Chapter 28 First Real Dialogue
The noise of Hogsmeade faded behind them slowly, as if the village itself were reluctant to let Liora go. Laughter, chatter, the clink of mugs and the chime of shop bells softened into a distant hum as students began drifting back toward the castle gates. The sky was streaked with late-afternoon gold and violet, clouds curling like brushstrokes above the mountains.
Mattheo walked beside her now—not behind, not ahead. Just beside.
It felt deliberate.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm on the dirt path leading back to Hogwarts, crunching softly over fallen leaves. Liora kept sneaking glances at him, trying to read the mood etched into his sharp features. He looked calm again, guarded, the tension from the alley tucked neatly back behind his ribs. But she’d seen it. The concern. The flash of something dangerously close to fear.
She couldn’t unsee it.
“Mattheo?” she said finally.
He hummed in response, eyes still forward.
“Can I ask you something?”
He exhaled slowly, like someone bracing themselves. “You usually do anyway.”
She smiled faintly. “Fair.”
They walked a few more steps before she found the words. “Why does everyone act like Slytherin is… bad?”
He stopped.
Not abruptly—just enough that she noticed immediately. She turned, surprised, and found him watching her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t annoyance.
It was caution.
“That’s a loaded question,” he said.
“I know,” she replied softly. “But I want to understand.”
He studied her for a long moment, as if weighing the risk of honesty. Around them, the path thinned, bordered by tall grass that whispered in the breeze. The castle loomed closer now, stone towers catching the last light of day.
“Most people don’t ask that because they want an answer,” Mattheo said at last. “They ask because they want confirmation.”
“Confirmation of what?”
“That we’re all exactly what they expect us to be.”
Liora frowned. “And what is that?”
His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Ambitious. Manipulative. Dangerous.”
She shook her head. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” he agreed quietly. “It isn’t.”
They resumed walking.
“Slytherin isn’t evil,” Liora continued, gathering courage. “It’s just… different. Hufflepuff values loyalty. Gryffindor values bravery. Ravenclaw values knowledge. Slytherin values ambition. That’s not wrong.”
Mattheo glanced at her, something flickering in his eyes. “You’ve put thought into this.”
“I have,” she said. “Because people talk about your house like it’s a curse. And about you like you’re something to be wary of.”
His jaw tightened.
“Are they wrong?” she asked gently.
He stopped again.
This time, she didn’t look away.
“I won’t lie to you,” Mattheo said, voice low. “Some of them aren’t.”
Her breath caught.
“Slytherin attracts people who want power,” he continued. “Some of them don’t care who they hurt to get it. Some of them think fear is a shortcut to respect.”
“And you?” she asked.
He looked away toward the trees, shadows gathering between their roots. “I think power is unavoidable. The question is whether you let it own you.”
She swallowed. “Is that why people are watching you?”
His gaze snapped back to hers—sharp, assessing.
“You notice more than you let on.”
“I notice things,” she said simply. “Especially when people don’t want me to.”
A corner of his mouth lifted faintly. “That might be your most dangerous trait.”
She laughed softly, then sobered. “You didn’t answer.”
He sighed. “Yes. That’s why.”
“Because of your family?”
The word hung between them like a challenge.
Mattheo didn’t deny it.
“My name carries expectations,” he said. “Some people want me to fulfill them. Others want to stop me before I can.”
“And what do you want?” Liora asked.
He hesitated.
“For once,” he said quietly, “I don’t know.”
They reached the edge of the forest path where it widened again, students appearing ahead in clusters. The spell of privacy was thinning, but Liora wasn’t ready to let the conversation end.
“People say Slytherins can’t be trusted,” she said. “That they lie and manipulate and always have an angle.”
“And you believe that?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I think people lie when they’re afraid. Or when they’ve learned that honesty costs them too much.”
Mattheo stared at her.
It wasn’t the look he usually wore—the cool, distant one. This was raw. Unfiltered.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Because someone might take you seriously.”
“I hope you do,” she said.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them—the crunch of leaves, the low hum of magic in the air, the unspoken truth stretching tight between their words.
“I don’t trust easily,” Mattheo said. “And when I do, it’s… complicated.”
“I don’t need easy,” Liora replied. “I just need honest.”
His breath hitched slightly.
“That’s dangerous too,” he said.
She smiled. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
They reached the stone bridge leading into the castle grounds. The sun dipped lower, painting the water beneath them in molten gold. Students streamed past, oblivious to the quiet intensity walking beside them.
“Mattheo,” she said, stopping at the bridge’s center.
He turned to her.
“I know your house has a reputation,” she said. “And I know your name does too. But I don’t see a villain when I look at you. I see someone who’s trying very hard not to become what everyone expects.”
Silence.
Then, softly: “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes it harder,” he said.
“For you?”
“For me,” he echoed. “To keep my distance.”
Her heart fluttered painfully.
“Maybe you don’t need to,” she whispered.
His eyes darkened, a storm brewing beneath the surface.
“Liora,” he said quietly, “if I let myself get close to you… people will notice.”
“They already do.”
“Not like that,” he said. “Not in ways that matter.”
She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “I don’t care what they think.”
He searched her face, as if looking for doubt. Finding none.
“You trust too easily,” he murmured.
“Not everyone,” she replied. “Just you.”
That broke something.
Not visibly—but she felt it, like a shift in the air. Mattheo’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction. His guard slipped—not fully, but enough to reveal the boy beneath the reputation.
“You’re wrong about one thing,” he said.
“What?”
“Slytherins aren’t incapable of loyalty.”
His gaze held hers, intense and unwavering.
“We just choose it carefully.”
Her breath trembled.
“I think,” she said softly, “that makes it mean more.”
For a moment, he looked like he might say something else—something important.
But then voices called out nearby, and the moment dissolved like mist.
Mattheo straightened, mask sliding back into place.
“I’ll walk you to the entrance,” he said.