Chapter 37 Dormitory Reflection
The Hufflepuff dormitory was unusually quiet that night. Only the soft rustle of sheets and the occasional creak of the floorboards disturbed the peaceful stillness. Liora sat on the edge of her bed, her legs tucked beneath her, and stared down at her hands, twisting the hem of her nightgown between her fingers. The events of the evening—Mattheo’s smirk, the shared laughter, the small but significant touch during the potions class—played over in her mind like a looping charm she couldn’t break.
She bit her lip, a small blush spreading across her cheeks. This is… different, she thought. I shouldn’t feel this way. I barely know him.
And yet, she couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him. The way her chest had fluttered when their hands brushed over the cauldron, the subtle thrill in his rare soft words, and the teasing lilt in his voice that made her pulse race in a way that had nothing to do with magic.
Liora leaned back against her pillow and let out a quiet sigh. Hogwarts felt enormous at times, the castle walls echoing with centuries of stories and secrets. But in those fleeting moments with Mattheo, the world outside—the expectations, the fears, the rules—seemed to fade.
She thought of the moment in the dungeon, the way he had guided her hand over the phoenix feather elixir. His dark eyes had lingered on her for just a heartbeat too long, and she’d caught the faintest glimmer of something unspoken—trust, perhaps, or something more. She didn’t know, and that both thrilled and terrified her.
I’m probably imagining it, she told herself, but her heart didn’t agree.
Her dormmates were asleep, soft snores punctuating the quiet. Liora pulled her knees closer to her chest and hugged them, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the blankets. She replayed their conversations in her mind—the quiet confessions, the teasing remarks, the shared jokes. Each word, each glance, had carved a space in her thoughts that no one else could occupy.
Naive, she admitted to herself. Completely naive. I barely know him, and yet…
Her cheeks warmed again at the thought. She remembered the brief moment when he had admitted that working with the right partner made chaos productive. That sentence, simple and offhand, had settled into her heart like a charm she hadn’t expected. The right partner, she mused, and the words brought a small, shy smile to her lips.
She thought about all the stories she had heard about Slytherins—cunning, dangerous, ambitious. And yet, Mattheo wasn’t just those things. He was… complicated. Layered. Hard to read. But beneath the aloof exterior, there was a flicker of something she hadn’t seen before: a vulnerability that made him human, relatable, and frighteningly real.
I’m drawn to him, she admitted quietly, the words tasting foreign on her tongue. I shouldn’t be, but I am.
Her hand drifted to the window, tracing the cool glass as she stared out at the moonlit grounds. The castle gardens shimmered under the silvery light, and somewhere beyond the walls, the distant hoot of an owl echoed. She imagined walking those grounds with Mattheo, side by side, laughter spilling between them, the tension of unspoken thoughts hanging in the air.
Her mind wandered back to the earlier moments of the day—the playful teasing, the way he had guided her hand, the smirk that had made her pulse quicken. She could feel the warmth of that touch still lingering, subtle but undeniable. The memory sent a shiver down her spine, both exhilarating and terrifying.
I like him, she realized, the admission catching her off guard. I really like him.
The thought was both thrilling and frightening. Liora had never felt this way before. Her heart raced at the mere idea of being near him, her thoughts constantly drifting toward him even when she tried to focus elsewhere. She knew it was reckless, naive, and perhaps foolish—but she couldn’t stop herself.
Her mind replayed his expression when he had spoken quietly, when he had let his guard slip just enough for her to see. The vulnerability, the rare hint of honesty—it was intoxicating. She longed to know more, to understand the layers beneath the carefully constructed exterior, to reach the part of him that no one else had seen.
And yet, part of her hesitated. Mattheo Riddle was Slytherin. He carried the weight of his legacy, the expectations of his house, and the shadow of his family name. She had been warned about Slytherins, cautioned against trusting too easily, but her instincts rebelled against the warnings. There was something in him that felt… different. Something that made her heart leap despite the danger.
He’s complicated, she thought. And so am I.
A small laugh escaped her lips, soft and almost embarrassed. She hugged her knees tighter, feeling a warmth that wasn’t entirely from the fire. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, she allowed herself to feel something fully—unapologetically, without restraint.
Her thoughts drifted to the days ahead, to classes, to adventures through the castle, to moments yet to come. And amidst it all, she knew one thing with certainty: she wanted to be near him. To understand him. To share in the small victories, the fleeting laughter, and perhaps, in time, the deeper truths he kept hidden.
The moonlight caught her hair as she leaned back against the pillow, eyes closing briefly. She could almost see him there, in the quiet shadows, just out of reach but impossibly close.
I wonder if he thinks of me the same way, she whispered softly, a blush creeping across her cheeks.
The thought was thrilling, terrifying, and intoxicating all at once. Liora didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know what dangers or challenges awaited her, and yet she felt an undeniable certainty in her heart: she wanted to discover it all—with him.
As sleep began to tug at her eyelids, she let her thoughts drift, imagining the next day, the next adventure, the next shared moment. And for the first time in weeks, Liora Potter felt a spark of excitement that had nothing to do with magic, and everything to do with the boy who had captured her curiosity, her attention, and slowly, her heart.
Chapter 38 — Gryffindor Rivalry
The Great Hall buzzed with activity as students gathered for breakfast, the morning sunlight streaming through the enchanted windows, painting the tables in shades of gold and crimson. Liora navigated the crowded space with her tray, careful not to spill the steaming pumpkin juice she’d poured. The chatter of excited students and clinking cutlery made her feel both alive and slightly uneasy, the contrast of noise and movement reminding her of how new she still was to Hogwarts.
She made her way toward her usual spot at the Hufflepuff table, only to be intercepted by a group of Gryffindors lounging near the middle aisle. Their leader, a tall boy with tousled hair and a self-satisfied smirk, blocked her path.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Liora Potter,” he drawled, eyes flicking mischievously toward the Slytherin table across the hall. “Spending a lot of time in the company of the green-and-silver crowd, are we?”
Liora paused, gripping the edge of her tray. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered, forcing a polite smile.
“Oh, come now,” another Gryffindor girl chimed in, leaning in with a teasing grin. “We saw you yesterday in the dungeons… with Riddle.” Her words carried a mixture of curiosity and mockery. “Careful, Potter. Slytherins aren’t exactly known for—what’s the word—friendliness.”
Liora felt heat rise to her cheeks. She had anticipated this reaction, but the teasing still hit harder than she expected. “We were just… working on a potion,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. “That’s all.”
The tall boy laughed, a loud, mocking sound that drew the attention of a few nearby students. “Working on a potion? Sure, that’s believable. You’ve got quite the knack for… fraternizing with the enemy, don’t you?”
A knot of anxiety settled in Liora’s stomach. She knew that Slytherins had a reputation, that friendships across houses were unusual, but she didn’t want her curiosity, her desire to understand Mattheo, to become a point of contention. Still, she could feel the eyes of her peers on her, curious and judgmental.
“I’m not… not friends with him,” she said firmly, though her voice quivered slightly. “We just—help each other in class. That’s all.”
The tall boy leaned in closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Just remember, Potter, some reputations are… sticky. Don’t get burned.”
Liora opened her mouth to respond, but another voice cut in—a softer, but no less teasing tone. “And don’t think we didn’t notice how he looks at you,” the girl added, eyes glinting with mischief.
Liora’s ears burned. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said quickly, glancing toward the Slytherin table. Sure enough, Mattheo was seated with a few of his housemates, his attention ostensibly on his breakfast, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was aware of the whispers and the stares directed at her.
The Gryffindors snickered, clearly delighted at her discomfort. “Careful, Potter,” the tall boy said, stepping back with a sly grin. “He’s… complicated. And you might find yourself in over your head.”
Liora took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. She had expected teasing—Hogwarts was full of it—but the intensity of it, paired with the insinuations about Mattheo, made her feel more vulnerable than she cared to admit.
She glanced toward the Slytherin table again, hoping for some reassurance, and met Mattheo’s eyes. The briefest flicker of his gaze—calm, measured, and just slightly protective—made her heart skip a beat. There was no overt intervention, no dramatic gesture, just the quiet presence that always seemed to follow her in subtle ways.
He’s watching, she thought, comforted by the fact that, despite the Gryffindor teasing, he seemed aware and perhaps even unconcerned about the gossip.
“I… I need to get to class,” she said finally, voice steadying as she moved past the group, ignoring the muttered comments behind her. Her cheeks still burned, but a small spark of determination ignited within her. She wasn’t going to let their teasing dictate how she acted or whom she spoke to.
As she walked, she felt the familiar pull of curiosity that had driven her closer to Mattheo in the first place. His presence was never far, even from a distance, and the thought that he might be aware of her discomfort without needing her to speak reassured her. She realized that part of what drew her to him wasn’t just intrigue or fascination—it was the quiet strength he exuded, the sense that he could handle the world’s whispers without flinching.
By the time she reached the entrance to the Charms classroom, her pulse had slowed, and her thoughts had settled into a steady rhythm. The Gryffindor teasing had rattled her, but it hadn’t broken her. Instead, it had reminded her that Hogwarts was a place of challenges, both magical and social, and that navigating them required courage, even in the face of subtle hostility.
As she entered the classroom, she noticed Mattheo already seated near the back, his dark eyes briefly meeting hers before returning to his parchment. She felt a mix of relief and anticipation. Despite the Gryffindor whispers and the scrutiny of her peers, she wasn’t alone. He was there, present, and perhaps, in his quiet way, protective.
Liora found a seat near him, careful to keep her tray and books in order, and let herself exhale. She could feel the tension from the encounter ebbing away, replaced by the excitement of the day ahead. The morning’s breakfast drama was a small storm, and she realized she was more resilient than she had thought.
Mattheo glanced at her again, just for a moment, and offered the faintest smirk—subtle, knowing, and entirely unspoken. It was enough to remind her that their connection, fragile as it might be, had its own quiet strength, one that even the teasing of others could not easily shake.
And for Liora, that small acknowledgment was all she needed to carry her through the rest of the day, her heart lightened and her curiosity renewed. She had survived the whispers, navigated the scrutiny, and learned that some bonds were worth standing firm for—no matter what house, no matter what reputation, no matter what rumours floated through the castle.