Chapter 35 Quiet Conversation
The Hufflepuff common room was quieter than usual that evening. Most students had drifted off to their dormitories, leaving only the faint crackle of the fireplace and the soft, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. The golden light reflected off the polished wood floors, warming the room in a way that made Liora feel both comforted and unusually exposed.
She had chosen a low armchair by the window, where the moonlight fell like silver water across the cushions. Her notebook rested on her lap, but she hadn’t written a single word. Instead, she was thinking—about the events of the past few days, about the strange and intense pull she felt toward a certain Slytherin boy, about the way her heart seemed to skip when he was near.
And tonight, for reasons she couldn’t explain, Mattheo Riddle was sitting across from her.
They hadn’t spoken much since Hogsmeade, a deliberate quiet that somehow felt louder than conversation. Yet his presence wasn’t intimidating. Not exactly. He seemed…contained, thoughtful, as though he’d folded some of the world’s weight neatly inside him and could choose, at any moment, whether to let it spill.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Liora said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “It’s late.”
Mattheo leaned back, one arm resting along the back of the couch. His eyes, usually so dark and unreadable, seemed almost reflective under the warm glow of the fire. “You come here often?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “I like the quiet. Makes it easier to think… or not think.”
He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what are you thinking about now?”
Liora hesitated, unsure if she wanted to reveal the truth. “About… a lot of things,” she said vaguely. She traced the edge of her notebook with her finger, not daring to look directly at him. “About… Hogwarts. About… people. About… you.”
Mattheo’s eyebrow arched slightly at the last part, though he didn’t comment immediately. Instead, he studied the fire, letting the flickering flames reflect in his dark eyes. “About me?” he repeated slowly, almost as if tasting the words.
“Yes,” she whispered. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the notebook. “I… I don’t understand you sometimes. But I want to.”
He was quiet for a long moment, the only sound in the room the occasional pop of the fireplace. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice lower than usual, almost confiding. “It’s not easy to understand. Even for me.”
Liora looked up, intrigued. “You mean… your house? Or… you personally?”
Mattheo’s gaze shifted, briefly locking with hers, and she noticed a vulnerability there that hadn’t been visible before. “Both,” he admitted. “Slytherin shapes us. The world shapes us. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself.”
The confession made Liora’s chest tighten. She hadn’t expected honesty like that—not from him, not so early, not so openly. The intensity of it made her heart race, and she realized she had been holding her breath.
“I don’t think I’d want to recognize myself either,” she said softly. “Not if I felt like the world expected me to be something I’m not.”
Mattheo’s eyes flickered toward her, sharp and assessing. “You… think differently than most people,” he said. There was a pause, a moment heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts. “You see more than they do.”
“Maybe I just pay attention,” Liora said. She smiled faintly, her nerves easing slightly with his focus on her rather than the walls of the room. “Or maybe I just trust more than I should.”
He chuckled quietly, a sound so rare it made her ears perk up. “Trust is… complicated. Especially where I’m concerned.”
“I know,” she said, and her words were gentle, not accusatory. “And yet… here I am. Talking to you.”
Mattheo leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. His expression softened just enough that she could see the human beneath the reputation, the boy beneath the Slytherin. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured. “Talking to me like this. It’s… dangerous.”
“Why?” she asked, curious, her head tilting. “Because you’re complicated?”
“Because,” he said slowly, “I am. And you… make it worse.” He paused, a shadow crossing his face. “Not in a bad way. In a way I… don’t understand.”
Liora’s heart skipped. “Worse?” she repeated, unsure if she wanted clarification.
He let out a short, almost rueful laugh. “Worse,” he said simply. “You… make me notice things. About myself. About other people. About… choices. Things I usually ignore. You make it… harder to hide.”
She blinked, absorbing his words. “That’s… not a bad thing,” she said softly. “That’s… brave.”
Mattheo looked at her, his dark eyes searching hers. “Brave?” he echoed. “I’m not brave. I just… deal with things my way. I’ve been dealing alone for a long time.”
“And now?” Liora asked, leaning slightly forward, curiosity overcoming her usual hesitation. “Do you still deal alone?”
He hesitated, glancing away for a fraction of a second before meeting her gaze again. “Mostly,” he admitted. “But… I’m learning it doesn’t have to be that way all the time.”
Liora’s chest warmed at the admission. It was so small, so subtle, and yet it revealed something real—something human. The boy she had been curious about for weeks, the Slytherin with the dark reputation, was showing her a fragment of himself. And she realized she felt honoured, even if it frightened her.
“I’m glad you’re not alone,” she said quietly, the words almost a whisper.
Mattheo’s expression softened further. “Neither am I,” he said, and the way he said it made the space between them feel charged with meaning.
They sat together in silence for a while, the fire crackling, the world outside fading. Liora thought about how rare this moment felt—simple, unhurried, and completely honest. She was beginning to see him in a way few others ever would: complex, conflicted, yet capable of moments of tenderness he didn’t often show.
And as she looked at him, the boy beneath the reputation, she realized that trust wasn’t just something she offered. It was something he was beginning to accept, however cautiously.
For the first time since she’d arrived at Hogwarts, Liora felt the faint stirrings of understanding—the fragile beginnings of a connection built on more than curiosity, more than intrigue. She felt the weight of his presence, the depth behind his words, and the possibility that maybe, just maybe, they were starting to understand each other.
And for tonight, that was enough.