Chapter 55 Laughter Between Shadows
The tension from earlier still clung to the edges of Liora’s thoughts as she followed Mattheo across the grounds, but it was loosening—slowly, like fog lifting under the morning sun. The sky was bright, the grass still damp with dew, and students milled about in clusters, their voices blending into a soft hum of normalcy.
Normal. That was the word she clung to.
“You’re unusually quiet,” Mattheo observed, hands tucked into his robe pockets, gaze fixed ahead.
“I’m thinking,” Liora replied.
“That’s rarely harmless,” he said dryly.
She snorted before she could stop herself.
Mattheo paused mid-step and glanced at her, one eyebrow lifting. “Was that… a snort?”
“I do not snort,” she protested, mortified. “I laughed.”
“That,” he said solemnly, “was not laughter.”
Her embarrassment melted into laughter this time—real, unguarded, echoing across the path. “I just got verbally defended by the most intimidating Slytherin in the castle. I think I’ve earned one undignified sound.”
“The most intimidating?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I work very hard to maintain that reputation.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” she said, grinning. “Do you practice in the mirror?”
He shot her a look. “Only on days ending in ‘y.’”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” he replied smoothly, “here you are.”
They reached the edge of the Black Lake, the surface shimmering faintly as the giant squid drifted lazily beneath. Mattheo stopped near the water, leaning against a tree as if he had all the time in the world. Liora sat on a nearby rock, hugging her knees, feeling lighter than she had in days.
“You know,” she said, glancing at him, “for someone with such a dark reputation, you’re surprisingly… funny.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “I’ve cultivated an image.”
“Well, it’s slipping.”
He smirked. “Only with you.”
The words settled warmly between them.
Liora picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the lake, watching the ripples spread. “Earlier,” she said carefully, “when you stepped in… you didn’t have to do that the way you did.”
“You’ve already said that,” he replied.
“I know. I just—” she hesitated, then smiled faintly. “You didn’t make it about you. Or about me being weak.”
His gaze softened. “You aren’t weak.”
“I know,” she said. “But most people don’t see that right away.”
“I do.”
The certainty in his voice made her chest tighten. To keep from staring at him too long, she reached into her bag and pulled out a Chocolate Frog she’d forgotten was there.
“Peace offering?” she asked, holding it out.
He eyed it sceptically. “Is that… expired?”
“Rude,” she said. “And no. I think.”
He took it anyway, breaking off a piece. The frog leapt once, then stilled.
They watched it in silence for a moment.
“I feel like that frog,” Liora said suddenly.
Mattheo blinked. “Elaborate.”
“Everyone expects it to jump dramatically,” she explained, gesturing. “But sometimes it just… doesn’t. And people are disappointed.”
He studied the frog thoughtfully. “I think that frog has excellent timing.”
She looked at him. “You’re just saying that.”
“No,” he said. “I mean it. People underestimate patience. Stillness. The choice not to leap when everyone expects you to.”
Her smile softened, something sincere and grateful settling into her expression.
“You’re very philosophical today,” she teased.
“You bring it out in me,” he replied dryly.
She laughed, then gasped suddenly as the frog card popped out of the wrapper and fluttered away in the breeze.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. “Come back!”
Mattheo watched her chase the enchanted card across the grass, skirts swishing, hair coming loose from its braid. Without thinking, he flicked his wand.
“Accio Frog Card.”
The card shot back—straight into Liora’s face.
“Oof!” she yelped, stumbling backward.
Mattheo froze. Then—
He laughed.
Not a smirk. Not a huff of amusement.
A real laugh.
Liora stared at him, stunned. “Did you just laugh at me?”
“Yes,” he admitted, still clearly trying—and failing—to suppress it. “Yes, I did.”
“You’re horrible,” she said, but she was smiling too.
He stepped closer, plucking the card from her hair. “You’re unharmed. Mostly.”
She crossed her arms. “I can’t believe this.”
“Oh, I can,” he said lightly. “You have an impressive talent for turning simple moments into chaos.”
“And yet you keep helping me.”
“Against my better judgment.”
She rolled her eyes, then hesitated. “You don’t regret it, do you?”
The humour faded from his expression, replaced by something quiet and sincere.
“No,” he said. “I don’t.”
They stood there, close again, the laughter lingering in the air like the echo of a spell. The attraction between them felt different now—less sharp, less tense. Still strong, but warmer. Easier.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For earlier. And for… this.”
“This?” he asked.
“For reminding me Hogwarts doesn’t have to be so serious all the time.”
He studied her face, the sunlight catching in her eyes. “With you,” he said slowly, “it rarely is.”
Her heart skipped.
They walked back toward the castle together, shoulders brushing occasionally, laughter still bubbling up in small, shared moments. Students passed them, some whispering, some staring—but for once, Liora didn’t notice.
Because beside her, Mattheo felt… real. Not a shadow. Not a threat. Just a boy who could laugh, tease, and choose to stay.
And as they climbed the steps back into Hogwarts, both of them knew something had shifted.
The tension hadn’t disappeared.
It had softened—settled into something deeper.
Something that felt dangerously like comfort.