2

I am sitting in one of the back corners of the library, my nose buried deep in a book about ancient magical artifacts.

Today is Friday, the day where there are always parties. I would go to these parties too, but Harry doesn't make it easy for me.

He hates parties, out of love for him I don't go.

Pansy, however, loves parties, which is why I usually spend the night alone in the library on Fridays, in peace.

The library is my refuge, a place where I can forget the noise and excitement of everyday school life.

Today I found a particularly exciting book that tells the story of a lost wand.

Suddenly I hear footsteps and the soft sound of books being placed on a table. Without looking up, I know who it was.

Mattheo Riddle.

I recognize him by his slow, but at the same time elegant lettering.

He is the only one who could sneak up on people so well, inconspicuous.

Something I hate about him. As much as I hate anything else about him. Tell me I am exaggerating as much as you want, but I'd rather rot in hell than ever tolerating him.

I don't even bother to look up at him. However, the footsteps become clearer and louder until a shadow stammers over me and the light dimmed.

I slowly raise my head. His ice-cold dark eyes piercing me directly and today even a small smile plays on his lips.

But not a nice one. Never a nice one.

»What do you want, Riddle?« I ask sharply, my eyes narrowing. It is not difficult to notice my contempt for him, I don't even try to hide it.

However, he did not react as I have imagined.

He raises a brow slightly and steps closer, he put his hands on the table, supporting himself, so that he towers a little above me.

The scent of his perfume struck me and envelopes me in a cloud of pure darkness.

»The good Potter. No parties, just reading in the library.« he sneers sarcastically, his slight smile never wavering from his lips.

His ice-cold eyes so dark, you think you might get lost in them. A touch of contempt in his voice as clear as the daylight.

I clench my teeth and force myself to stay calm.

Although I would like to scratch that smile off his visage.

»Fuck off, Riddle. I do not have time for your little games,« I hiss as I put my book aside.

My eyes are looking at him from top to bottom. My face twists a little into a disgusted facial expression, I am perfectly aware that I look like an arrogant bitch.

However, I don't give a damn, I hate this boy. I hate him from the bottom of my heart.

His gaze darkens, his grin widens, he leans down to me a little more.

I can't even explain what darkened eyes are, no one probably can, but trust me, if you'd see what I am seeing right now, you would absolutely know what I am talking about.

Now our eyes are fixed on each other. The only thing that can be heard are our quiet breaths. There is no human soul but us.

Everyone is spending the moment at the party. His gaze slowly slides down on me, to my swollen arm, which is still carrying damage from yesterday's hostility with Malfoy.

»Cautiously, Potter,« he says, perhaps, with a soft but clear threatening undertone. He leans a little closer, his presence as dangerous as an approaching thunderstorm.

»Your arrogance could cost you your life,« he whispers, withdrawing a little with a jerk.

I know he is superior to me. He masters the darkest spells with a lightness that makes me shiver every time.

I have seen how he pierces the thoughts of others with a single look, how he silences people with a finger pointing. It is as if he has the dark magic in his DNA, as if he himself were the embodiment of darkness.

But despite his superiority, I decide to stay strong. I will never behave like I am scared of Riddle. And even though I hate being a Slytherin, I'm not a Slytherin without a reason.

A small mischievous grin twitches at the corners of my mouth as I stood up and grab my book.

»Arrogance?« I reply mockingly as I push my chair into the table to leave everything neatly.

»Funny to hear that from your mouth. Did you learn that from your father?« I add. Risky. And I love it.

I already have a queasy feeling, but no matter how much I feel the danger he rotated, I just can't keep my mouth shut.

But now something changes. His eyes narrow and his grin disappears. He looks even more dangerous than he already looks either way.

Creepy.

Before I could walk past him, he steps in front of me and blocks the exit. His gaze fixed on me with an intensity that makes the blood freeze in my veins.

My heart begins to beat faster as I slowly look up at him. He is taller than me and no matter how much I try to ignore it, his presence is overwhelming.

Dangerous.

»Watch what you say, Sarah,« he says in a deep and yet so quiet tone. An unpleasant shiver runs down my spine. Goosebumps forming all over my body and spread.

He is dangerous, I know that all too well.

His proximity makes me nervous, but I am not allowed to show weakness. Not in front of him.

I lift my chin and force myself to look him straight in the eye. I want to show him that I am not afraid, even if my heart is racing.

»Or what, Riddle?« I provoke him further.

»Will you do something to me like your pathetic father did to my parents?« I hiss. My grin also disappears at my last part of the sentence.

Only the contempt remains. The hatred.

»I didn't know how similar you two were to each other.« I mock with a sarcastic tone.

I am well aware that this sentence would hit him, exactly what I want to achieve.

To hurt him.

Just like his family did with mine.

Go ahead, tell me I can't hold him accountable for the sins of his family—but he's no different.

He wields fear like a weapon, twisting it to serve his every whim.

He claims to loathe the shadow of his father, yet the blood on his hands—thick, sticky, unrelenting and far too much for someone our age—screams otherwise.

He may hate the comparison, but he's every bit the monster his father was.

Mattheo's gaze darkens completely, his eyes even darker and more narrowed than they already were, I feel my stomach turn.

In a lightning-fast moment, he grabs my wounded arm. A stabbing pain running through me and I clench my teeth so as not to scream.

His grip is so tight that I almost think he is going to cut off my blood.

My arm is already stened by the confrontation with Malfoy and now Mattheo seems determined to aggravate this pain.

I grab his arm that held mine and desperately try to push it away from me.

However, my eyes fall on his dark mark. My blood is freezing in my veins.

The snake twists and hisses, like a living one.

I stop fighting back.

Mattheo grins, his fucking arrogant grin.

»What's the matter, darling? You look like you've seen a ghost.« He sneers in a sarcastic tone.

»Let go of me, Riddle! For Merlin's sake, you will regret it otherwise!« I almost scream, my voice trembling with anger and pain.

But he doesn't let go.

No, on the contrary, he just stares down at me, in contempt and with a grin on his lips.

The grin widens, I just know he could literally feel my shock.

»You should know when you have to keep your mouth shut,« he growls and the pressure on my arm intensifies.

Desperate because of the terrible pain that is coming over me, I try to push him away from me again, or to kick him. But nothing works.

No, nothing at all.

He leans down a little to me until his head is next to mine.

»Do you know what happens to girls who can't curb their tongues ... or don't want to listen at all?« He asks softly, his warm breath on my ear and his lips brush my ear very lightly.

The goosebumps are forming again.

I hold my breath and I am feeling him loosening his grip on my arm a little.

I swallow hard, it feels like I have a block in my throat.

I don't answer. But shortly after, he lets me know that this was a wrong decision. Very clearly.

In a jerk, he pulls away from my ear and grabs my arm even tighter than before.

Before I can react, I hear a disgusting crack and a glaring pain twitches through my body. A scream escapes me and tears welled in my eyes.

He just...broke my arm..?

From the moment I heard the disgusting cracking, panic comes over me and I start beating around myself wildly. My fists form and start drumming desperately against his chest.

»I hate you!« I scream in tears as I continue to hit his chest with both arms, even with the broken one.

With each blow my arm hurts more, but I don't care. I only feel the huge anger and pain that comes over me.

The pain is unbearable, but I wouldn't calm down yet.

»I hate you, I hate you so fucking much! You're just like you're goddamn father! I do absolutely nothing, and yet you're determined to destroy me! I mean, I understand why I hate you—your father gave me every reason to! But why do you act like I've done something to you!« I repeat over and over again, my voice trembling and quivering with pain and anger.

I punch and kick, fighting desperately against him, but Riddle remains unyielding.

Then, he grabs me brutally with one arm and presses me tightly against the edge of the table until I stop fighting back. With his other hand he grabs my chin and forces me to look into his eyes.

»Look at me, Potter,« he orders sharply.

I cry uncontrollably and I hate myself for the weakness. My weakness.

The tears flow down my face as the pain pulsates in my arm. My breathing is intermittent, and I feel like I am trapped in a nightmare from which there was no awakening.

»I'll just say it one more time—« He pauses his sentence for a moment.

»—Look. At. Me.« he repeats himself, his fingers digging painfully into my chin.

Reluctantly, I look up at him and look into his cold eyes. His expression is full of contempt and his eyes sparkle dangerously. I am sobbing, my breathing fast.

»Your emotions are the reason why I will always be superior to you. You don't have it under control, and,—«he says softly, leaning closer to me.

»— that's your weakness, Sarah.«

I hate him. Everything about him.

Quiet sobs escape my lips as I squeeze my eyes tightly shut to hold back the tears.

He finally lets go of me and I slowly sink to the ground, pressing my broken arm against me protectively.

He squats down very slowly and ungently grabs my jaw, forcing me to look at him again, but I refuse to open my eyes again. I refuse to meet that icily look in my weak condition.

»Look at me, Potter,« he murmurs softly. His tone is cold and yet so calm.

I hate him. I hate him. I don't want to look into his arrogant face.

But I have to, that bastard is still superior to me. I slowly open my eyes. My breath is fast and shallow and hot, salty tears are running down my cheeks.

There he is now, just a few centimeters away from me, with a dirty self-satisfied smile on his lips.

His eyes sparkle with sheer malice.

He holds out his hand, his hand resting on my cheek. His hand rough but surprisingly soft.

How ironic.

His thumb slides down my cheek, wiping away the tears.

At the moment I feel a hatred that is so strong that it is almost overwhelming me.

It is not only the pain he has inflicted on me, but also the memory of what his family had done to me, to my family.

My heart is pounding in my chest and I swear to myself that I, Sarah Potter, will avenge my family.

»Oh and by the way, that's what happens to girls like you, girls who just don't want to listen, my dear.« he whispers again before getting up and slowly making his way to the door of the library.

But just before he walks out the door, he stops. »Oh yeah, not that I forget—« he says and turns to me.

»If anyone asks, you tripped.« he growls, leaving the library without further ado. He leaves me crying on the floor with a broken arm.

I stare at the door where he was just standing. The pain is unbearable.

At that moment I realize that our hatred for each other is like an insurmountable abyss, deep and dark.

Mattheo Riddle is my enemy and every encounter with him reminds me of what I had lost and what was at stake.

I will never forget who he is and what he represents.

𓆗

I am sitting alone in our room, the light muffled, while Pansy is still at the party.

My gaze rests on my broken arm, which in the darkness seems like a gloomy symbol of my vulnerability.

Anger, pain and grief struggle within me as I try to control the emotions that threatens to overwhelm me.

But at some point it is enough for me.

I could no longer let the darkness and the pain control me. With a decision that sprouts in me, I wipe the tears from my cheeks and force myself to stand up.

I wouldn't sit here idly and give myself to my fate.

Determined, I make my way to the herbology greenhouse. Once there, I look for the ingredients I need and start making my own healing bandage.

My hand working skillfully while I carefully put the herbs and ribbons together.

However, only Harry is buzzing through my head. He would go crazy. Just like Pansy and everyone else. The hatred between me and Riddle was huge, it just causes tension.

Malfoy and I can't cope either, but I still wouldn't call it hate.

Don't get me wrong, I know damn well that the tension between me and Malfoy yesterday seemed as if we hate each other, but that wasn't the case.

We are just...complicated?