The Riddle of Us *Mattheo x Reader*

Chapter 21 The Yule Ball

A/N: Listen to this at the second --- it'll just hit different I swear.

QoC:"I'm the love of your life?"

First, all the champions danced, their elegant steps gliding across the floor like something out of a storybook. The hall sparkled with golden light, enchanted snow drifting lazily from the ceiling, and soon the rest of the students were joining them, filling the space with laughter, colour, and motion.

Lucky for Y/n and Mattheo, they both knew how to dance and could refrain from stepping on one another's feet. They slipped easily into the rhythm, his hand warm at her waist, hers resting lightly against his shoulder. The music swelled around them, a gentle waltz that carried them across the polished floor with surprising grace.

"How did you become such a lovely dancer?" Y/n asked, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. "I knew you had some skill ever since the ball at my home—you know, when you turned up with Thickness of all people—but where did you actually learn?"

Mattheo's mouth curved into that familiar, infuriating smirk. "I've been to more balls than I care to remember. Started when I was about eight. Learned the proper way then... and just kept perfecting my moves ever since."

She raised a brow, teasing. "Perfecting them, have you? Sounds like someone thinks rather highly of himself."

"Someone has to," he shot back smoothly, his grin deepening as he spun her under his arm. When he drew her close again, his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Besides, I wasn't the one accusing you of being a lovely dancer, was I?"

She rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Alright, I'll give you that one. But you still enjoy showing off far too much."

"Maybe," he said casually, his voice low as though it were a secret meant only for her. "Or maybe I just enjoy showing off with you, princess."

Her cheeks warmed at the nickname, though she brushed it off with a laugh. "Merlin, you're unbearable sometimes."

He chuckled, leaning in ever so slightly. "And yet, here you are. Dancing with me. Voluntarily."

Y/n huffed, trying not to smile as their steps carried them smoothly across the floor. "Can you believe we're in our fourth year already?" she asked after a moment, her voice softer, more thoughtful.

"No," Mattheo admitted. "I can't believe we're even friends. Eleven-year-old me wouldn't have believed it."

"My eleven-year-old self," Y/n countered quickly, her eyes glinting with mischief, "would still be choking on your narcissistic aura."

"I was not narcissistic!" he said, feigning outrage so over-the-top that she laughed out loud.

"You absolutely were," she insisted, biting back another giggle. "Still are, in fact."

Before he could retort, the music swelled again, and without warning his grip tightened around her waist. In one swift, smooth motion, Mattheo lifted her clean off the ground and spun her in the air. Y/n squealed in surprise, clutching at his shoulders as her dress flared around her, glittering in the candlelight. The whole room seemed to blur, just for that moment, and all she could do was laugh as he twirled her.

When he finally set her back down, her feet finding the floor once more, she was breathless, her face aching from smiling so hard.

"Aren't you just so strong," she said cheekily, smoothing her dress as she caught her breath.

"Aren't you just so—" he began, eyes dancing.

"Gorgeous? Lovely? Funny? Sarcastic? The love of your life?" she interrupted, rattling them off with mock innocence, a giggle slipping out at the end.