Chapter 15 Shared Secret
The charm shimmered like a tear in reality—thin, silvery, pulsing gently where stone met shadow. Liora hadn’t meant to find it. Truly, she hadn’t meant to be anywhere near this part of the castle at all. She’d just been wandering after dinner, her mind full of Mattheo’s strange aloofness during Potions earlier that day.
She told herself she wasn’t thinking about him.
She told herself wrong.
The corridor was empty except for the faint torchlight licking across the stones. Something had tugged at her attention, a whisper of magic brushing the air. She’d turned in the direction of the sensation—and there it was. A charm, old yet faintly alive, as though someone had tugged it awake recently.
Her fingers hovered over the shimmering veil. It wasn’t normal magic. It felt… personal.
“Don’t touch it.”
Liora froze. That voice. Low, smooth, a bit too close.
She whirled around to see Mattheo leaning against the wall, half-shadowed, his arms crossed over his chest. His Slytherin tie hung loose as if he’d tugged at it impatiently on his way here. His dark eyes glinted, reflecting the charm’s silver glow in a way that made her breath hitch.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” Liora managed, though her voice betrayed a small tremor.
Mattheo stepped closer, not enough to invade her space—but enough to make her aware of every tiny shift in the air. “I wasn’t sneaking. You were… wandering. Again.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” he cut in. “And you’re standing in front of something you don’t understand.”
Liora’s gaze flicked from him to the charm. “What is it?”
Mattheo tilted his head slightly. “Something that shouldn’t be here anymore.”
Cryptic, as always.
Liora bristled. “That doesn’t answer anything.”
“It wasn’t meant to.” His eyes flickered to the shimmering tear. “But if you insist on poking ancient magic, the least I can do is keep you from being swallowed by it.”
Her heartbeat stuttered. “You… care? About that?”
“Let’s just say I’d rather not scrape you off the castle floor.”
She blinked. “I don’t think that’s a thing.”
“It could be,” he said, his tone dry.
Something in his expression softened then—barely, but enough to notice. A quiet acknowledgement that what he’d said wasn’t the whole truth.
Careful and deliberate, Mattheo stepped forward until he stood beside her, both of them staring at the ghostly shimmer on the wall. His warmth radiated in subtle waves, grounding her despite the strangeness in front of them.
Liora inhaled. “Can you tell me what it is now?”
Mattheo studied the charm, jaw tightening slightly. “It’s a concealment tear. Very old. Someone created it to hide something on the other side—a room, passageway, object—take your pick.”
“And I found it by accident?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “You attract strange things.”
She flushed. “I do not.”
“You do.” He leaned in just slightly, voice dropping. “I’ve had to save you twice already.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” she muttered, but the heat creeping into her cheeks betrayed her.
“You didn’t need to ask,” he replied simply.
Her breath caught.
Before she could respond, the charm flickered again—brighter this time—casting silver across both of their faces. Mattheo’s expression changed, a shadow of worry, a flicker of thoughtfulness.
“We shouldn’t leave it open,” he said.
Liora frowned. “It’s open?”
“Yes.” Mattheo raised his hand toward the charm, the air around his fingers humming with energy. “Like a curtain someone forgot to close.”
Liora hesitated, then asked softly, “Can I help?”
Mattheo paused, genuinely thrown off. He turned to her as though reevaluating her entirely.
“You want to?”
She nodded. “If something dangerous is inside… or if it’s unstable… I want to help fix it.”
He examined her for a moment. Not dismissive. Not mocking. Just… curious.
Finally, he nodded. “All right.”
He stepped closer to the charm, motioning her to stand beside him. When she complied, he lowered his voice.
“It reacts to focus,” he explained. “Old magic often does. You don’t need spells—just intention.”
“What kind of intention?” she asked.
“To close,” he murmured.
She nodded. “Okay.”
Together, they lifted their hands toward the charm. Mattheo’s fingertips stopped just an inch above hers—not touching, but close enough that a faint tingling sensation danced across her skin. The charm responded instantly, vibrating with soft energy.
Liora focused the way she’d been taught in her first lessons—steady breath, clear mind, visualizing a door shutting. She imagined the tear closing like a seam, sewing itself back into the stone.
The charm quivered. Brightened.
“Good,” Mattheo whispered. “You’re doing it.”
A warmth spread through her palms, humming through the air. The silver veil began to pull together, its fluttering edges drawing inward like fabric shrinking against a breeze. Liora pressed harder with her thoughts, picturing the magic folding gently into itself.
Mattheo glanced at her, expression unreadable yet almost impressed. “You have a knack for this.”
“For closing weird magical holes in walls?” she teased breathlessly.
“For magic in general.”
Liora’s cheeks warmed again, but she didn’t lose focus. Seconds later, the last sliver of the charm zipped shut with a soft snap, leaving nothing but the plain stone surface behind.
The hallway dimmed once more, the glow fading.
Mattheo lowered his hand first. “You did well.”
Liora smiled—small, unsure, but real. “We did it. Together.”
She thought he might deny it, say she’d been the help while he did the actual magic. But he didn’t.
Instead, he nodded once, almost reluctantly. “Yes. Together.”
A beat of silence passed between them. Not awkward—charged. Quiet. Warm.
Liora looked at the now-normal wall. “Do you think it will stay closed?”
“For a while,” Mattheo said. “But if it opens again—”
“I’ll tell someone,” she said quickly.
He shook his head, stepping a fraction closer. “You’ll tell me.”
Her breath stilled.
“I… why you?” she found herself asking.
His eyes met hers—dark, steady, honest in a way she wasn’t used to from him.
“Because now it’s our secret,” he said quietly. “And because you’re the only one who found it.”
Her chest tightened with something that felt too important for just a passing moment. “So we’re… sharing this, then?”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not cold. Not mocking. Just… soft.
“Yes, Liora,” he said. “We’re sharing this.”
No cliffhanger. No dramatic exit. Just that simple truth, sitting softly between them.
Mattheo turned first, walking back toward the Slytherin corridor, his steps quiet and measured. Liora watched him go, her heart warm, her thoughts buzzing.
She didn’t fully understand him.
She didn’t know why he helped her—not really.
But for the first time, she felt something unmistakably real forming in the space between them.
A secret.
A connection.
A beginning.
And Liora walked back to Hufflepuff with a small smile on her lips, the quiet certainty settling into her chest—
She wasn’t imagining the bond growing between them. It was real.
And it belonged to both of them.