look-who-s-inside-again

[look-who-s-inside-again]

My Mattheo Crack!Headcanon

I think we've all well established that Mattheo will beat the living daylights out of anyone who harms or makes his beloved feel say/down and out. Rather that be in a Mattheo x OC or in a Mattheo x Reader fic.

I would like to take this to his unnatural and most hilarious conclusion for this dumster fire of a headcanon.

Say someone made the Reader feel so sad that their crying their poor heart out for days. Mattheo wants to hurt the person who did this to his beloved but there's only one problem... he's the one who hurt the Reader's feelings.

What's he gonna do? Knock himself out?

I think you all know where I am going with this. Yes, in this dumpster fire of a headcanon, I am imagining Mattheo trying to beat himself up.

I kinda had a shitty day and this idea came to me while I was trying to distract myself from what I was upset about.

[look-who-s-inside-again]

ugh, LOVE a good old fashioned young parents plotline, just…*chef’s kiss*

but girl, I know you’re not running from this man after YOU TOLD YOUR CHILD HE WOULD COME SOMEDAY?? slow down and explain yourself babe, because I would be pissed as hell too if I were Mattheo trying to get some answers and you’re running from me. What was the plan?? Apparate away and hide for 4 more years for fun😭😭

The reader running her fingers through Aurora’s hair to feel closer to Mattheo is legitimately devastating and an idea I shant recover from I fear. All those nights thinking about each other…send him a letter babe WHO SAID THAT

AURORA. mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary ; in the aftermath of the second wizarding war, mattheo is sent to azkaban for his crimes. when released and faced with the harsh reality that you had, unbeknownst to him, had his child and had been raising her alone all these years, he falls apart. based on this lovely request right here!! @isntthatsweetiguessso words ; 4.6k warnings ; angst, mom!reader, dad!mattheo, swearing, sad but happy ending

navigation. masterlist. part two.

The world outside Azkaban had always felt like a distant memory to Mattheo. The walls, the cold, and the constant torment of his own mind had been his reality for six long years. But now, walking the streets of Diagon Alley as a free man, the memories felt sharper, more painful. He had imagined this moment so many times—stepping back into the life he'd left behind, finding you, and maybe, just maybe, picking up the pieces of what you two had.

But nothing could have prepared him for this.

It was supposed to be a simple walk—an aimless stroll to ground himself, to remind himself that he was no longer trapped in that hellhole. But as he turned the corner, there it was: Brews and Stews. The same café you both used to sneak away to when the world got too loud. His heart clenched at the sight, and before he knew it, his feet were pulling him closer, as if some invisible force was guiding him back to the past.

Then he saw you.

You were sitting at one of the outside tables, sunlight bathing you in a warm glow that made you look almost ethereal. His heart stuttered in his chest as he stood frozen on the cobblestone street, staring at you like a man starved. Six years, and you were still the same. Beautiful, captivating. You were reading a book, the furrow of your brow as mesmerizing as ever.

For a moment, he considered turning back. He didn’t belong here. Not anymore. You had probably moved on; you had to. Six years was a lifetime. But just as he was about to retreat, the small figure next to you caught his eye.

A little girl, her brown curls bouncing as she laughed, sitting beside you at the table. She was a blur of motion—happy, full of life.

"Mama, look!" the child giggled, holding up a small trinket, her voice full of excitement. "Isn't it pretty?"

You smiled, reaching over to stroke her hair, and that’s when Mattheo felt the world collapse around him. Mama. The word echoed in his head, ripping through his chest like a knife. His stomach twisted painfully as he watched the scene unfold before him.

You had a child.

For a split second, his mind couldn’t process it. A child. A little girl. With you.

His heart thundered in his chest, and his fists clenched at his sides. It wasn’t possible, was it? You had moved on. Of course you had. Six years was too long for anyone to wait, especially for someone like him—a man who had done unspeakable things, who had been imprisoned for it. Why would you wait for him? And yet, the thought of you with someone else, of you having a family, was enough to suffocate him.

He took a shaky step back, the weight of the realization crashing down on him. He wasn’t ready for this. He hadn’t prepared himself to see you like this. But just as he was about to turn away, you glanced up.

Your eyes locked with his, and the world seemed to stop.

"Mattheo?" Your voice was a breathless whisper, as if you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. The expression on your face shifted from shock to something else—something he couldn’t quite read.

His breath caught in his throat as he stood frozen, every muscle in his body tensing. You were staring at him, those eyes he had dreamed of every night in Azkaban now filled with confusion, and something else... regret, maybe?

But then the girl looked up too. She had your eyes, but the rest of her—the wild brown curls, the soft slope of her nose—it was like staring into a mirror. She had his features.

He couldn’t move. His gaze flicked between you and the girl, heart hammering in his chest as his mind screamed for answers. The question hung heavy on his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.

"Come on, Aurora," you said quickly, standing up and gathering your things. Your voice wavered, the panic evident as you scooped the girl into your arms. "We have to go."

You brushed past him without another word, holding the little girl tightly as you hurried away from the café. His body moved instinctively to follow, but his feet were rooted to the spot. He watched you walk away, the weight of the unanswered question heavy in the air.

Aurora looked back at him once, her big, curious eyes staring into his, and then she was gone, disappearing down the street with you.

He stood there for what felt like hours, his mind spinning. That girl—Aurora. She was his. He could see it now, clear as day. He could feel it. The brown curls, the shape of her face, the way her eyes had stared at him with that same intensity he’d seen in his own reflection.

His daughter.

The realization slammed into him, nearly knocking the wind out of his lungs. How could you not have told him?

With heavy steps, he set off down the street, following the path you had taken. His heart pounded in his chest, each step bringing him closer to the confrontation he had dreaded but needed. He wasn’t sure what he would say, wasn’t sure how you would react.

But one thing was clear: he wasn’t going to lose you again. And he wasn’t going to lose his daughter. Not after everything he had already lost.

Mattheo’s heart pounded in his chest as he strode through the narrow streets, the weight of what he’d just seen pressing down on him with every step. The world felt suffocating, spinning around him in a blur of emotions—anger, betrayal, heartbreak. His hands shook at his sides, clenched into fists as he tried to keep his mind focused on the only thing that mattered now: finding you.

You couldn’t have gone far.

Aurora. Our daughter, the thought kept repeating in his mind like a relentless drumbeat. His daughter—his little girl, and you had never told him. He hadn’t known, hadn’t been there for anything. The rage simmering inside him was barely contained as he searched the crowd, every face blurring together until he finally saw you, ducking into a quieter street with Aurora still in your arms.

His legs moved before he could think.

“Y/N!” His voice was a shout, desperate, raw. You didn’t stop. “Y/N, stop!”

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes wide with panic, but you didn’t slow down. Mattheo’s breath was ragged as he pushed through the crowd, forcing his way closer. He wasn’t letting you run from this. He wasn’t letting you run from him. Not again.

Finally, you reached a quiet alleyway, and Mattheo caught up to you just as you were fumbling with your wand, trying to Apparate. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

“Mattheo—” you started, but he cut you off, the fury burning in his chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” His voice boomed through the narrow alley, raw and loud. “Is this what I think it is, Y/N? Is that my goddamn kid?”

Aurora flinched at his raised voice, her small body shrinking into your arms. You immediately shifted her to your other hip, turning her face away from him.

“Mattheo, not here,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced down at your daughter. “Please.” And the first conversation you’re having after six years is going to be an argument.

“Not here?” he spat, eyes blazing with fury. “That—That’s my daughter,” he sputtered. “You fucking kept my daughter from me. Don’t tell me to calm down.”

You winced at the venom in his voice, but you didn’t move, your eyes pleading with him to lower his voice. “You don’t understand. Let’s just talk about this. I didn’t know how to—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he repeated, louder this time, his voice trembling with rage. “You didn’t know how? You knew damn well how to keep her from me! You didn’t even try, Y/N.”

“I…” You hesitated, the guilt written all over your face, but Mattheo wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” he forced out, the pain bleeding into his voice now. “I fucking rotted in Azkaban for six years, thinking I had nothing left. And all this time, you had her? I—I had a kid? ”

Aurora shifted again in your arms, and Mattheo’s heart wrenched as he saw her big, curious eyes peek out from beneath your hair. She didn’t know him. She had no idea who he was, and that realization broke something inside him.

“How could you?” His voice cracked, his eyes burning as he stared at you, searching for some explanation that would make any of this hurt less.

You closed your eyes, breathing deeply as if steadying yourself before meeting his gaze again. “I didn’t know what to do, Mattheo,” you said softly, the edge of panic still there but buried beneath layers of hurt. “You were in Azkaban. I didn’t think you’d ever get out.”

“That’s bullshit!” he snarled, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. “You could’ve written. You could’ve found a way! You could’ve let me fucking know I had a daughter!”

Tears welled in your eyes, your lips trembling as you looked away, the guilt eating at you. “I… I was scared,” you whispered, barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing. “I was scared she’d grow up without you. That she’d grow up knowing what you were forced to be… and I didn’t want that for her.”

Mattheo’s chest heaved with the weight of your words, but it only stoked the fire of his rage. “That’s not your decision to make, you had no right to keep her from me!”

You blinked, tears spilling down your cheeks as you clutched Aurora tighter. “I didn’t do it on purpose. You weren’t here. You literally couldn’t be here. I was trying to protect her—”

“From me?!” he shouted, the words scraping from his throat like broken glass.

Aurora’s tiny whimper cut through the air like a knife, and Mattheo’s heart shattered. He hadn’t meant to scare her, hadn’t meant to let his anger bleed into his voice, but it was too late now.

You stepped back, rocking Aurora gently in your arms, trying to soothe her as you looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Mattheo.”

“Then what the fuck were you trying to do?” he spat, his voice low now, hoarse with emotion. “Because it sure as hell feels like you didn’t give a shit about what I’d feel. I missed everything. Everything, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched, and the weight of his words settled over you like a blanket of regret. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whispered. “I didn’t know if I could. And by the time I thought about it, too much time had passed. I thought… I thought maybe it was better this way.”

Mattheo let out a bitter, hollow laugh, his eyes wild as he stared at you. “Better? Better?! How the fuck is this better? I lost all six years of her goddamn existence! Six years! I didn’t get to see her first steps, didn’t hear her first words, didn’t even know she existed. And you think that was better?”

You sobbed, clutching Aurora close to you as if the little girl could shield you from the onslaught of his anger. “I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Mattheo.”

But sorry wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to undo the years of pain, the years of loneliness and anguish he had endured in that cell, thinking he had lost you, lost everything.

He took a deep, shaky breath, forcing himself to look at the little girl—Aurora. His daughter. She was watching him now, her big eyes wide and confused, her small fingers gripping your shirt. She looked so much like him.

“Aurora,” he said, his voice a broken whisper.

She blinked at him, tilting her head slightly as if she didn’t understand why he was looking at her that way. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t know him. He was a stranger to her. And that hurt more than anything else.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Mattheo whispered, his voice barely audible now. “You kept her from me.” He shook his head, tears of his own threatening to spill over. “You took everything from me.”

You wiped at your eyes, shaking your head. "I didn’t want her to grow up around this—around what we were part of. I didn't want her to know the darkness.”

“But that darkness is a part of me, Y/N,” Mattheo snapped, his voice breaking. “It's who I am. I can’t escape it, no matter how much you want to pretend it’s not there. And you—you kept my baby from me because of it?”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of your decision hanging between you. “I made a mistake, Mattheo. I thought I was doing what was best for her.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time since you’d left the café, Mattheo’s anger began to ebb, replaced by something even more painful—regret.

Mattheo stood frozen, his chest heaving with the weight of all that had just transpired. His gaze shifted between you and Aurora, trying to piece together the shards of the life he thought he’d lost. His anger still simmered beneath the surface, but as he watched you, tears streaming down your face, and saw Aurora clinging to you with wide, confused eyes, something inside him softened.

But the more he looked at you, standing there with Aurora in your arms, the more the anger started to unravel into something deeper, something rawer.

Because it wasn't just about Aurora. It was about you. You, the woman he'd loved so fiercely before everything fell apart. The woman he had held onto in the darkest hours of Azkaban, when hope was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind.

He had missed you— fuck, he'd missed you— and now you were here, standing in front of him with his daughter. And as furious as he was, as shattered as he felt, that love hadn't gone anywhere.

He hadn't seen you in six years, but you still made his heart race in ways he couldn't control.

“Y/N,” he whispered, the anger in his voice beginning to crack, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

"I used to run my fingers through her hair every night," you whispered suddenly, your voice cracking as you glanced down at Aurora's curls. "Because she has your curls. And it made me feel closer to you."

Those words hit Mattheo like a punch to the gut, his chest tightening as the reality of it all began to sink in. You hadn't forgotten him. In all those years, despite everything, you had tried to keep a part of him with you-through Aurora.

He swallowed thickly, his throat constricting. "Why didn't you write me?" he asked, the question soft now, almost a plea. "I could've—hell, I don't know what I could've done, but I would've known. I would've been there in some way. Anything but this."

You sighed, wiping another tear from your cheek. "I didn't think you'd ever get out. I thought..." You took a deep breath, struggling with your words. "I thought it'd be easier if she didn't know. If you didn't know. And I was wrong. I see that now."

He falls silent for a while, his eyes trained on the beautiful girl in your arms.

“She’s really ours?” Mattheo asked, his voice softer now, though the tremor of rage still lurked. “That’s her name? Aurora?”

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks as you pressed a kiss to Aurora’s head. “Yes,” you whispered. “That’s her name.”

Mattheo let out a shaky breath, his heart clenching at the sound of it. Aurora. His daughter. Aurora’s wide eyes met his, so innocent, so big and full of wonder, but also a little shy, hiding in the safety of your arms. She didn’t know him. How could she?

His heart broke even more.

“Well, you do look like quite the princess,” he murmured, his voice soft and careful as if speaking any louder would scare her away.

Aurora’s brow furrowed, still unsure, but Mattheo could see the curiosity shining in her eyes. She stayed pressed against you, her small fingers clutching your shirt.

“Mama,” she whispered, looking up at you, her voice trembling. “Why are you crying?”

Your breath caught as you tried to answer, but words seemed to fail you. Instead, you simply stroked Aurora’s hair, trying to steady yourself. Mattheo watched, helpless, as Aurora’s small hand reached up to touch your cheek.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m just—just a little sad, baby.”

Mattheo could feel the weight of everything pressing down on you both. He had a million questions, a million things he wanted to yell, but none of it would make sense right now. Not with Aurora watching, her innocent eyes darting between the two of you, trying to make sense of something so much bigger than her little world had ever allowed.

“Who is that, Mama?”

"Remember when you asked me where your Daddy was and why he wasn't here?" you whispered to Aurora, your voice shaking as you cradled her close. "Remember how I told you your Daddy loved you, and that he'd find us one day?"

Aurora’s gaze flicked back to Mattheo, her little forehead creasing in confusion.

“That’s him, sweet girl,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “That’s your Daddy.”

Mattheo’s breath caught in his throat as those words hit him like a tidal wave. That’s your Daddy. For all these years, that’s all he should have been—her father, her protector, her everything—and instead, he was a stranger. He blinked back the sting in his eyes, trying to keep himself together for her sake.

Aurora’s little fingers clung tighter to your shirt as she processed what you’d said. She looked back at Mattheo, her eyes wide and uncertain.

Mattheo’s heart ached with the silence, with the lost years that could never be undone. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, but he knew he couldn’t—at least, not yet. She didn’t know him, and that hurt more than anything else.

You looked down at Aurora, gently prying her small hands from your shirt before setting her down on the ground. “It’s okay,” you whispered softly. “You can say hello.”

Aurora hesitated, her little body leaning toward you, and then slowly, cautiously, she moved to hide behind your legs. Mattheo’s heart squeezed painfully at the sight of her shy little face peeking out at him. His own daughter was scared of him.

He crouched down to her level, making himself as small as he could, hoping it would make him seem less intimidating. He had no idea how to be a father, no idea what to say to this little girl, but he had to try.

“Hey there, Aurora,” he murmured softly, trying to keep his voice gentle, steady. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She didn’t respond, just kept her wide eyes on him as she clung to the back of your leg. Mattheo’s heart shattered further, but he swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile.

But Aurora, as shy as she was, was still a child. And as she looked at him again, her small voice broke the silence. "Are you really my daddy?"

Mattheo's throat tightened, the words lodged there, unable to come out. He was scared—terrified, really— of what to say, of how she would react. But he nodded, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Yeah. That's me."

Aurora stared at him, her eyes big and full of questions, her small hands clutching onto your shirt as if grounding herself. But after a long, silent moment, she seemed to relax, her lips parting into the tiniest smile.

"I always wanted one," she said softly, her voice full of innocence. "All my friends at school have daddies. I wanted one too."

His chest ached. He was the stranger here, and yet, in her little mind, he was still the man she had been waiting for. The man you had told her would one day come for her. He could see it— the confusion, the shyness— but there was something else in her eyes too.

She'd been missing him. She just didn't know who he was.

Mattheo's chest ached, the guilt and sorrow clawing at him from the inside. "I wanted to be there," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I wanted to be with you, with both of you. I didn't know."

Aurora looked at him for a moment longer, and then, to Mattheo's shock, she smiled a little wider, still shy but no longer fearful. She reached out tentatively, her small hand gripping his for the first time. The warmth of her touch sent a wave of emotion crashing through him, and for the first time since seeing you again, something inside him shifted. Maybe this wasn't all lost. Maybe he hadn't missed everything.

Aurora giggled softly, her small hand still wrapped around his. She brought her other hand to his face, pressing her palm to his cheek. "You're my daddy," she said again, as if testing out the words.

Mattheo's throat tightened, tears stinging his eyes as he smiled-truly smiled-for the first time in what felt like years. "Yeah, princess," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm your daddy."

Aurora's little laugh was music to his ears, and when she finally released his hand, she took a step back, hiding behind your legs again but peeking out from around you with a shy grin.

“You know, when I look at you…” He trailed off, his throat tightening as he swallowed down the lump that had formed there. “I see so much of your mum in you. But I see me too.” He let out a soft, shaky laugh, blinking through the tears that threatened to spill. “You got my curls, huh?”

Aurora’s wide, curious eyes flicked between the two of you, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of your pants. Mattheo felt a surge of protectiveness, an instinct that told him to reach out, to hold her, to assure her that everything would be okay. But he hesitated, unsure if he even had the right to touch her after all this time. She had been a stranger to him just moments ago, and now… now she was his entire world.

Her small voice broke the silence again, tentative but filled with the kind of honesty only a child could muster. “Do you love my mama?”

Mattheo’s heart lurched at the question. His gaze snapped to you, meeting your teary eyes. The question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. You quickly glanced away, biting your lip as you tried to keep your composure.

Aurora blinked up at him, waiting for an answer. “All my friends’ parents love each other,” she continued, her voice soft, innocent. “They kiss and hold hands. Do you love her?”

Mattheo’s throat tightened, and he felt his pulse quicken. How could he even begin to explain the depth of what he felt? The years apart hadn’t dulled it—if anything, the ache had only grown sharper. You had been his world before Azkaban, and every lonely, torturous day behind bars had been filled with memories of you, of your laugh, your smile, the way you used to look at him as if he was the only person that mattered.

He had loved you then. He loved you still.

But now, standing before you, the mother of his child, the weight of everything left unsaid between you was crushing.

He swallowed hard, his gaze shifting back to Aurora. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I do.” Mattheo’s eyes softened as he glanced at you again, his heart aching with everything he wanted to say. “I’ve always loved her,” he admitted, his voice low but firm. “I’ve never stopped.”

You looked at him, your lips trembling as another tear slid down your cheek. You were trying so hard to be strong, but the years of separation had taken their toll on both of you. And now, with Aurora standing between you, the bond that had once been so unbreakable felt fragile, like it could snap at any moment.

Aurora, still holding onto your pants, tilted her head, watching the two of you with that same curiosity. “Mama,” she said softly, “why are you crying again?”

You let out a shaky breath, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I’m okay, baby,” you whispered, brushing a hand through her hair in a soothing gesture. “It’s just… a lot.”

Mattheo stood up slowly, running a hand through his curls, trying to compose himself. He felt a swell of love for you, something he had been suppressing in his anger. You had raised this beautiful little girl all on your own, carrying the burden of their absence in silence. You had done it for Aurora—for him. And even though he was furious that you had kept it all from him, a part of him understood. You were protecting her, protecting yourself.

He took a deep breath, his voice soft but unsteady as he spoke again. “I missed everything,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “Her birth, her first words, her first steps... all of it. I wasn’t there.”

You flinched, guilt flashing across your face. “Mattheo, I—”

“No,” he cut you off gently, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to blame you. I just… I missed it all. And I don’t know how to make that right.”

Aurora, sensing the tension, leaned into you, her arms wrapping around your leg. “Mama, is Daddy staying with us?”

Mattheo’s heart clenched at the word. Daddy. He had never thought he would hear it—never thought it was even possible. But now, hearing Aurora say it so casually, so innocently, it hit him all over again. This was his daughter. His family.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, crouching down again to her level, his voice gentle as he tried to meet her eyes. “I’m going to be here. I’m going to make it right, okay?”

Aurora blinked, processing his words, and then her lips curved into a small, shy smile. She still seemed a bit confused, but there was a trust forming, something fragile but real.

She looked up at you, her tiny voice full of hope. “Does Daddy love me too?”

You sucked in a breath, your eyes flicking to Mattheo, waiting for him to answer. His throat tightened, but he didn’t hesitate this time.

“More than anything,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he held her gaze. “I love you, Aurora. I loved you before I even knew you were here.”

© lushleona 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

so sorry to the person who requested this for taking so long :( i hope this is something like what you had in your head. its very long, and a fluffy part 2 is out now!

[look-who-s-inside-again]

“I have to get away.”

Baby, I can tell you what we’re NOT going to do. We’re NOT going to push away that adorable little Italian boy and the mutual lifeline you two share, nuh uh, I REFUSE

labyrinth

Theodore Nott x fem!reader

part of the midnights collection

                    February 22nd 1999

Dear Diary,                   

Everything is fucked.

Notice how I only write when somethings terribly wrong? Well, try not to be too surprised with this entry.

Up until a few days ago everything seemed to go fine- well as fine as it could, given everything going on.

We’ve been making progress, rescuing muggles and muggleborns, shutting down attacks, even the horcrux hunt seemed to be going well, it felt like we had reached the beginning of the end.

But we were so fucking wrong.

There was an attack last week, well two of them. One was a distraction and the other one…well two safe houses were compromised, most of the order members got out on time, but two died. A Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw, a year older than me. I never talked to them at school, but I knew them, I remember seeing them during breakfast and at hallways. And now… 

I kept thinking how it could have been me, and I hate myself for being this selfish, for not being the bigger picture. It’s survival instinct, I know, but I wish I could overcome it, ever since the war started I keep finding myself, wishing I was someone I’m not.

The only thing worse than dying in an attack, like that, would be, being the only one left. What if I survive and everyone I love dies, what’s the point of winning this- if there is nothing left, after. If the world ends up destroyed beyond repair, why keep fighting? For Harry, who claims the Light- Good will win?

Harry who could be a Horcrux? Yes, I know. Its unthinkable but Hermione and Moody think it’s true, it could be a possibility we shouldn’t ignore. It could explain so much that, almost everything that has happened all the years. His ability to speak with snakes, the nightmares, the visions. They could be tied to that. And if it is true, what then? 

I had

I slept with Theo on New Years, I… don’t know how to feel about it. It feels stupid even writing about it with the direction our world has taken.

It was weird at first, the next day, things felt different. It felt as if…the safety I feel when he is in my room, when we sleep next to eachother at night, it felt like that safety had spread everywhere, like it followed me around the next day.

I thought I would feel self-conscious around him, but I don’t, it feels as if he is the only thing left that makes sense. Maybe, it our way to cope, getting drunk isn’t practical and getting high…well I can’t do that everyday. Maybe having sex is our way to get through this war, sane? 

Although, it doesn’t feel like it’s that simple to me, it’s not just a coping mechanism, for me at least. But I won’t get into that, it’s selfish and wrong to think about that when there are bigger problems out there, tearing my sleeve as they beg for my attention.

Hermione has been doing a lot of research into Horxcruxes, Malfoy helps her a lot, he tells her everything he’d heard that summer- before 6th year. He, told Moody about his aunts vault, at Gringotts, how she had it checked every month, she was paranoid about it, that’s what he said. They think there is something important there. Bellatrix and her family, they have been nothing but loyal to Voldemort, all these years, it would make sense for her to be trusted with something as important as this. 

The Order, planned a mission tonight, a run-in at Gringotts, to at least inspect the vault, or find a way inside, and if they are lucky, find the Horxcrux.

They

You stare at the page in front of you, you can’t bare to continue writing, because what you are about to write, is the thing that’s been eating you alive all afternoon. You can’t explain how Theo was sent on this mission, how he could be recognized and then-

You don’t want to think about what could happen next, not if you want your breathing to remain even and your stomach settled. Instead, you charm your diary and conceal everything you’ve written, from the outside world, and then head downstairs, wait with the rest of the house.

“Any news?” You ask worried 

“No, not even a Patronus.” Hermione shrugs and hands you a cup of tea

You grip the hot mug with both hands, savoring the warmth in your skin, taking in the smell and focusing on the feeling it wakes inside of your chest. Ginger, lemon and honey. 

It reminds you of your childhood and the drinks your mother made you every time you got sick. Then, your family and summers with them, flash before your eyes. You would always miss Hogwarts in the summertime, all your friends would be either at the Burrow or at their homes, far away from your summer house. You’d complain about how isolated you felt then. It is almost ridiculous to think now. You would give anything for one more summer, taking walks at the beach- savoring the orange sky and the way it kissed the sea, how the color got lost in the water and danced on the waves. And then, as you think of the waves- you imagine the house Theo had told you about, that night. And how you would go there, once the war is over. And perhaps, this is the first time you’ve felt nostalgic about a place you’ve never visited before. 

You’ve clung to the hope of an after so hard, that this house- the one by the sea, with the perfect library and velvet loveseats, almost feels like home. You’ve painted a new picture of safety in your brain and the walls and colors of the house fit the drawing perfectly.

Then again, maybe, it isn’t the house that plants this hope inside you, but it’s the person that would join you. The one who would fill the house with laughter and stories, the one whose smell would float through each room and the one who’d make it a home. 

But that person isn’t here, and the frailty of his return shatters you. 

“They’ll come back. Moody is with them. They’ll be fine”

Your friend offers knowingly. As if your fears have spilled out of you and have turned into a cloud around the two of you, turning everything darker and colder.

You can only nod in response and ask about her progress and the boys, in hopes that her words will distract you. 

“You went flying yesterday.” She says with a smile “I haven’t seen you fly, since… Hogwarts.” Since Dumbledore died

“You’ve seen me fly on missions.”

“Yeah but that’s different, you looked free yesterday- it took me back to quidditch practice. Remember how I’d watch you three practice?” 

“Yeah; I remember you had a different book every single time. Ron always joked about that”

“I miss it” she says tear-eyed “And I miss the boys and-and” my parents you think to yourself and grab her hand tightly- anchoring her to you.

“I am so tired.” She finishes; and it hits you then how much this war has changed her. From the color of her face- to the spark in her eyes, everything now seems washed out.

Voldemort and his followers have taken pieces of her, of Theo, Ron, Harry, one at a time, stealing memories and feelings, taking away their safety and friends, leaving behind nearly empty shells; that fight- fight back and desperately try to reverse everything. And you can’t help but think of why they-why you keep fighting back. You can’t possibly undo everything that’s has been done so far. You can’t bring people back to life, you can’t reverse stolen memories or forget new ones. You can’t chase away the demons that will hunt you at night. With or without Voldemort in this world, you struggle to decide if it is worth saving in the end. 

Defeat one evil just for the next one to appear? To bring more nightmares and fights? More death?

At last, it may be that you keep fighting- because if you stop now, after everything that’s happened, everything you’ve had to face, and do, ultimately it will all have been for nothing. And that; is a fate worse than Voldemort winning, worse than death.

“I know you are.” You reply and open your arms for her to hide in. Hide and then let everything out- every disappointment and regret. Cry and hide from the world just for a few minutes, because that’s the only thing you or anyone can give her, right now.

They haven’t returned yet.

You finish writing a few hours later, with the weight of the night sky settling on your shoulders; the constant thought of “they should have come back by now.”, sitting at the pit of your stomach.

You notice a few of Theo’s things around the room, a sweater on your chair, a couple of books on the floor by his side of the bed. You realize then, the pattern you two have fallen into, a life inside the one you already live in. Intimacy; the kind that scared you once, is now your only shelter: your refuge from reality. It’s because of that newfound intimacy, that your room now feels lived in, and isn’t a gray space for you to sleep in. Its because of another person, that you feel protection at night and warmth despite the blistering cold.

The chance of never feeling his warmth again- paralyzes you. And it shouldn’t, because the chance of him not making it back tonight- or after a mission- the possibility of him dying, is a reality you must come to terms with, if you want to keep fighting this war sane And you almost laugh at the irony of that thought

And it is a cliche, its something you’d normally condemn stupid and immature- but there is nothing normal about this, so you must act accordingly.

I shouldn’t have gotten this close you begin writing but you hear voices all of a sudden and the familiar creak of the floor outside your room.

The door opens and its him, no blood, no limping- a darkens under his eyes- sharper than the one you’ve seen before.

“Hi.” He whispers and his eyebrows soften almost instantly.

You shouldn’t have gotten this close you remember, but you can’t control your legs as they move towards him- and you can’t help the way your body molds to his.

“You’re back.” You breathe in his scent as you bury your face in his chest, your hands gripping his jacket tightly- keeping him as close as you can.

He doesn’t say anything back, he just lowers his head to your hear- breathing you in in return.

You’ll stay like that for a few seconds, before you ask how the mission went, if everyones alright… You’ll stay frozen for a little while, before you have to force yourself to stay away from him, before you reprogram your brain to learn to cope without the comfort of his touch, or the whispered words he speaks into your hair at night.

I have to get away, remind yourself as you kiss him goodnight.

I need to get away, you think again, as you watch him fast asleep in your bed.

How will I get away? you ask hopeless as you hear the beat of his heart and let his arms trap you.

a/n: am I happy with this chapter? no. Was it necessary for me to finish it so this story could get moving? yes

taglist: @avalynlestrange @spacecadet16 @lucywritess @aleviia @marina468 @annaisabookworm @liarajoah @notasadgirlipromise @pariseffer @unlikelysadgirl @ktz-bb @lizisthecoolest

btw free Palestine!

[look-who-s-inside-again]

Oh my god, I’m fucking OBSESSED with this. FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. BARKING ON ALL FOURS. CRYING WITH BOTH EYES.

“It depends.”, he says seriously 

“On what?”

“In your scenario, will you also have survived the war?”

THAT ALONE SHOULD ENTITLE ME TO FINANCIAL COMPENSATION😭😭

“Will you really take me to your lake house if we make it out alive?”, you ask half-jokingly

“It’s a beach house. And yes.”, he replies seriously 

“Then I will stay alive for that.”, you promise him.

Uhhhhh, Katniss and Peeta, anyone? It’s giving “I do. I need you.”

^^literally them. Also: FOR LUCK? BYE, THESE TWO ARE GAGGY AND I’M LIVINGGGGGGG

the great war

Theodore Nott xfem!reader

part of the midnights collection

December 31st, 1998

Dear Diary,

So much has happened, I don’t know where to start.

The past month has been eventful, to say the least. As far as the Horcrux hunt goes, the boys managed to destroy two of them, almost one month ago, and Hermione thinks they’ll be going to Hogwarts by the end of January. 

Hogwarts has been shut down, unofficially; classes have stopped and the only ones staying there are the teachers and the students who have nowhere else to go. Professor Lupin said that most of the muggleborns have fled the country with their families.

I worry about the boys going back there, especially now, it isn’t safe with Snape as Headmaster and the Carrows there. They shouldn’t be going there alone.

The attacks against muggleborns and muggles, are more frequent now than ever. There is a station on the radio, spreading news and updating the supporters of the Order.

From what we’ve been hearing, things aren’t going as well as we’d like them to. Moody says that, even if we destroy the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort, there will still be so many Death Eaters and werewolves left and they will try to continue his work.

Not to mention, the politicians who secretly support him. It just feels like no matter what we do, they will still keep appearing. So how will it ever end? 

You feel panic creeping up on you again, and you stop for a moment, laying your head on top of your desk, hoping that if you shut your eyes, you will forget everything for just a few seconds. But you don’t. Instead you decide to focus on something else and you continue writing.

Andromeda Black has been visiting us, her husband is also fighting and her daughter moved in with us. And, in case it wasn't clear, she is Dracos aunt. I think she wants to fix their relationship, Narcissa and Andromeda were close growing up and from the way she talks about her sister I can tell how much she misses her.

Draco is the only person tying her to her sister- and her old family. I am sure she is proud of him. Proud of all of them.

We, have also grown closer to them, it is ridiculous to think how every time I’d stumble across Pansy Parkinson at school, I would feel anxious over the things she would say to me, but now- now we laugh together almost every night.

We all sit together and talk about school and our past, but only about the good stuff. Pansy makes fun of Theo and Draco, and how difficult they were back at school. How Draco would constantly talk about Harry when they sat in their common room. 

She remembers how one time, Blaise invented a drinking game, where every time that Draco would mention Harry, they would take a shot of whatever alcohol they had. She woke up with a pounding headache the next morning next to Theo who looked sick and Blaise who had gone to the bathroom at least three times.

And worst of all, Draco was sober and kept on blabbering about quidditch and how unfair it was that “undisciplined-Potter” won almost at every game.

Pansy told us the other day that even if things go terribly and we all die, at least she made girl-friends and didn’t end up alone with a whiny Draco and a moody Theo- her words not mine.

Theo and I have also grown close this past month. After the last time I wrote you, he visited me in my room and asked if he could sleep here. I let him in and turned the rug by my bed into a mat. Anyway, he slept there that night, and the next one and everynight after that.

He says he doesn’t get nightmares anymore, he feels safe now; and he can fall sleep easier. And to be honest, I have also been sleeping better, ever since that night. It isn’t only easier for me to fall asleep, but when I wake up I feel safe, and I can calm down faster than when I am on my own. 

I didn’t realize how much I craved to be near someone until Theo started sleeping here, how easier it gets when you have someone by your side. 

He usually knocks on my door a few minutes before midnight, we lay in our beds and talk until one of us falls asleep. 

He is kind and funny, and if it weren’t for the War I could fall we could be more than housemates-who-can’t-sleep-by-themselves and-need-eachother. But, we could die at any moment and living in a fantasy will not help me; and neither will getting my hopes up over nothing. 

We spent Christmas morning together, we woke up very early, and those who were not on a mission were still asleep. He made us spiked-hot chocolate, and we exchanged Christmas stories, until the others woke up.

That morning he told me about his childhood and how he would spend Christmas with the Malfoys, because his father didn’t want him around.

He asked me about my childhood and I told him about visits at the Burrow, and that one year when I spent Christmas at Hogwarts; raiding the kitchen with the students who were also there; and then listening to Hagrid’s stories at night.

Last week, I think the day after Boxing Day, I heard him talking in his sleep. Usually, he is the one to wake me up, whenever I have a nightmare, but that day the opposite happened. 

He was thrashing in his sleep and mumbling words that I can’t remember, he told me once that he dreams of Blaises death. I woke him up and

You raise your head and look outside your window as you recall that night. 

You were on your knees next to him, desperately trying to wake him up. Tears were dropping on his cheek and he kept grunting as if he was in physical pain; you shook his shoulder hard enough that he woke with a deep sigh.

The look on his face haunts you to this day, it is something you never want to see again. You lightly grabbed his face and whispered “It was only a dream.”, but he didn’t seem to believe you. He looked at you in silence, and grabbed your wrist, willing you to stay there with him and not move.

After a few minutes, he let you go and whispered “I am sorry.”, you could have just gone back to your bed, he was fine, he had snapped out of it. But you felt something tugging at your chest, and you just couldn’t let go.

You grabbed your blanket from your bed and draped it over you, as you laid down at his makeshift bed. He was nervous at first, at how different this was, from your usual sleeping situation, but after a few seconds he laid next to you and guided you to rest your head on his shoulder, while he kept you close with his arms.

You slept in each others arms that night, but when the morning came you woke up alone with only his scent there to hug you.

You never spoke about that night, and you still pretend it never happened…

In a few hours it will be new years day. 1999. I feel numb, it almost doesn’t feel real. Time is moving and the world is changing, every day, but I feel stuck. I am stuck inside this house and in this war that no-one asked for.

I keep losing people and I can’t see how that is ever going to change. I just hope, wish, that the War ends this year, and the new millennia doesn’t start with violence and death. Is it selfish to also wish that I make it out alive, without losing anyone else that I love?

You hear a knock on your door and quickly hide your diary. “Come in.”, you say and the door opens to reveal Theo in his usual sweatshirt, holding his pillow with an apologetic smile.

It is the same look he has every night, he told you once that he feels awful for burdening you like this, and as he tried to leave your room you stopped him “I want you here, it helps me too.”, you explained and he laid back down.

“Hi.” You say softly and move to your bed. 

You both lay down, you on your bed and he in his; but you are both on your sides, facing eachother.

“Theo?”, you softly ask and he replies with a “mm”

“Do you think it will end?”

“The war or the world?”, he asks yawning

“Both?”

“Yes.” , he replies softly

“Which one?”

“Both.”, he says as he rests his head on his head and looks up at you “I just don’t know, which of the two, we’ll get to experience.”

“What will you do, if you survive the war?”, you ask, wanting to change the subject before a full blown existential crisis hits you, minutes before the new year.

“It depends.”, he says seriously 

“On what?”

“In your scenario, will you also have survived the war?”

“I hope so.”, you say with a laugh

“Well then, there is this house that I used to visit, with my parents, when my mother was still alive”, he quickly tells you “It is in the countryside and the healers said that it would be good for her health, to live away from the city.” 

“I would go there, and you should come with me.” He says and earns a surprised look form you

“You can see the stars from there, very clearly, because it is so far away from the city lights”, he begins describing in a way that tells you that, this house and perhaps the memories he has from there are significant to him.

“And it is by the coast, so you can sit by the beach and forget about anything that troubles you. And it has a huge library, with so many books, you would love it there.”, he finishes, and you can tell by his movements and the way his eyes stare into yours, that he is getting tired as each minute passes. 

“Mmm sounds nice.”, you reply slowly

“What about you?”, he asks then

“Hm, if I survive this war and you are still alive I’ll make you take me to that house, because now I am curious to see it.”, you say smiling, earning a smile back from him “You don’t go there anymore?” 

“No, my father couldn’t visit it; after my mother passed, it reminded him of her.”

“Do you remember her? Your mom?”, you wonder

“No, not really. I remember she was kind and quiet. Maybe it is better she died, I don’t think she would’ve survived this war.”, he says now with a hint of nostalgia in his words

“You never talk about your parents.”, he points out, not in an accusing manner, but curious.

“Yeah, I- miss them, too much. I- it hurts talking about them.”, you say and it is true.

Whenever you think of your parents questions are shot at you; Are they okay? Are they safe? Will I ever see them again? It is easier to try and forget about them; for now, until it is safe for them to be with you again.

“It is almost midnight.”, Theo says, snapping you out of your thoughts

“It is almost new year.”, you exclaim “Come here, for the countdown.”, you ask craving the feel of someone near you.

He lays on your bed, facing you still, and instinctively he grabs your hands in his as he looks at you; opening himself to you, letting his emotions and thoughts show. Letting you see them.

“Will you really take me to your lake house if we make it out alive?”, you ask half-jokingly

“It’s a beach house. And yes.”, he replies seriously 

“Then I will stay alive for that.”, you promise him. You will stay alive because the world is worth saving, you will stay alive because he gives you hope and something to look forward.

You will stay alive for yourself and the people you love, but also for him. The sound of fireworks snap you out of your thoughts.

The New Year has officially come. And the person you are spending this moment with is Theodore Nott, how could anyone ever prepare you for this moment?

What could they say to convince you that someday, you would lay in your bed with Theodore Nott, exchanging happy new year wishes and laying bare your souls to eachother. Exposing every dark thought and worry, opening your hands to receive the other persons concerns and fears.

“Happy new year.”, he tells you

“Happy new year.”, you wish back and look at his face more clearly now. You notice his eyes and how easily you can lose yourself in them, and you stare at his lips as if they are the medicine to cure your symptoms. Bring you back to life.

“Theo.”, you say; barely whispering 

“Yes.”, he replies in the same tone, now looking at you like he can read your thoughts. His eyes scan your face, expectantly, wanting. As if he is starved.

His look is enough for you to lean in and whisper to him, when your lips are a breath away “For good luck. For the New Year”

And with that you close the gap between you two. He slowly closes his eyes and grabs the back of your head carefully with his free hand, pulling you closer to him. You place your hand on his shoulder, resting your body on him.

The way his lips kiss yours feels like a drug. This alone, is worth fighting for. To be able to kiss him, like this. And it is solely because when you kiss eachother, it feels as if a weight is lifted off your chest, as if his hands help you carry the stone to top of the mountain.

Normally, you would blame yourself for being weak; you should be able to handle things by yourself, you shouldn’t need others to survive, that is what your mind would normally tell you, and yes normally you would agree. But there is nothing normal about this life you are currently living.

So you keep kissing him and when his mouth travels south to your neck, causing you to let out a small sigh you don’t stop him.

“For good luck.” he repeats as he takes off your shirt and kisses your skin.

“For good luck.” you repeat as you pepper kisses along his jaw and neck, while he tugs at your hips to remove the rest of your clothing.

And, later when you lay together with your clothes discarded on the floor, with his arms around you; holding you impossibly close to him and his breath fanning rhythmically in your ear, tickling you softly, you try to convince yourself that it was in fact just for good luck.

A/N: feedback and criticism are appreciated and needed ⭐️🤍 This will be continued this has been poorly proofread so, I am deeply sorry for the mistakes 🫣

[look-who-s-inside-again]

me maladaptive daydreaming about the most recent ff i've read (i need psychological attention not an iphone)

[look-who-s-inside-again]

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

“yeah, I was”

”she just reminded me of someone for a second.”

YOU TAKE IT BACK

Cooking class | t.n x fem!reader

“Miss mcgonagall you cannot fail me!” You protested walking into her class which, unfortunately for you was full of students. “Oh, hi Hermione”

“Miss y/l/n maybe instead of interrupting my class you can come up to my desk and speak to me quietly” she sighed

“Sorry” you said walking up to her desk ignoring the eyes and laughs of the gryfindors and slytherins

“Right what have I failed you in?” She asked

“This one” you pointed to the subject called “clubs and activities”

“Miss y/l/n I’m not sure if you are aware but that’s not a subject more so an option”

“My fifth year report card is almost perfect I just need anything but an F in this” you said

“I see, well the first year cooking club is probably the only club accepting new members at the moment. If by the end of the month you show great effects in cooking club I’ll see what I can do” she smiled

“Thank you miss! This is why your my favourite” you said hugging her before making your way out the classroom and waving bye to Hermione.

“We’re sorry sir!” Draco said to a very angry mr flitwick

“You should of thought about that before you boys thought it would be funny to play a cruel prank on me!” The man replied angrily

“You’re not going to tell our parents right?” Blaise asked

“That is exactly what I’m going to do”

“Please sir, we won’t do it again my dad will kill me if you tell him” theodore begged

“I see” the teacher sighed

“How about you let us go with a warning?” Draco said with a smirk

“You’re pushing your luck mister malfoy… actually I have just the right punishment for you boys” flitwick said making the boys share a confused look

“Cooking club! My father will hear about this. Isn’t that for girls” Draco huffed as they walked towards the classroom they were told to be at.

“Believe it or not I’m a great chef” theodore laughed as they neared the door to the cooking club

“Well at least it’s only for three days” blaise sighed pushing open the door.

As they walked inside they noticed all the first years plus you looking up at them

“We thought you were the teacher” you said going back to writing on your hands

“Where is she anyway?” Draco asked annoyed

“It’s a He actually and i don’t know” you replied

“Well I guess it a free period” theodore said High fiving blaise

“why are you three here anway?” You asked them

“Punishment from flitwick” blaise replied

“Why are you here?” Draco asked

“Extra credit” Theodore answered for you “you should of seen the way she came into the room this morning” he laughed making you roll your eyes

“i didn’t know you spoke” you raised your eyebrows “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you even open your mouth”

“well you’ve caught me on a good day” he grinned

“Um excuse me” you looked next to you and saw a little girl tapping you “the teacher is terribly late and we’ve already wasted 20 minutes do you know if he’s coming?” She asked

“Oh um I’m not sure sorry”

“Oh” she looked down with sad eyes

“Oi theo didn’t you say you were a great cook?” Blaise asked

“No I didn’t” he lied

“Yes you did, if i remember correctly your exact words were, Believe it or not I’m a great chef” Blaise smirked

“Well y/n is a girl who probably should know how to cook why don’t you teach the class” Draco said

“would you do that?” The little girl said looking at you with her soft eyes

“come on l/n have a heart” draco smirked

you kissed your teeth before lifting yourself from your chair. You went to the teachers desk and read the recipe “banana bread muffins” before levitating the ingredients onto all the desks

“If you lot aren’t going to do anything move to the back” you said to the three boys who moved straight away

“Um I think your meant to partner up” you said watching all the kids go into pairs “okay so um first I think you add vanilla extract?” you questioned yourself aloud

“no you don’t” theodore said watching you with an amused expression on his face.

“oh you add the eggs”

“not yet” he said

“Okay um, you add apple?”

“That’s not even part of the ingredients” he laughed

“So help me?”

“Only because it’s pathetic seeing you try to cook” he sighed walking towards you

“First you add the bananas” he gave you a pointed look while putting an apron on

“Nice apron, pink is your colour” you said as Draco and blaise started laughing

“Shut up I’m helping you aren’t I?” He groaned

“Fine” you said throwing Draco and blaise aprons too

“This isn’t my job” Draco made a disgusted face

“If I’m doing it your doing it” Theodore said rolling up his sleeves as they complained.

“Okay next melt 1/3 cup of butter” theodore said melting it with his wand “and mix it together”

“I know what’s next!” You grinned “flour”

“Well done, you’re not that clueless then. You can measure 1 and a half cup flour for me then” he smirked

You grabbed the packet of flour and pulled both sides causing it to open everywhere covering you and theodore while all the children laughed

“I take back what I said why would you open flour like that” he said blowing flour off his arm

Once the mixture was made you, theodore and the rest of the pairs were putting it into cupcake cases. While you were filling your last case you noticed some flour on theodore’s shoulder, you reached out to wipe it. As your hand came in contact with him he stopped what he was doing for a minute

“You had flour” you said quietly pointing to his shoulder

“Oh Thank you”

“Your welcome theodore” you smiled

“theo”

“what?”

“call me theo… please”

“Okay”

The cupcakes were in the oven and everyone was sitting down waiting, “how comes you can actually cook” you asked breaking the silence between you and theo who were sitting on the floor with your backs against a cupboard

“My mother used to cook for me while i watched, I loved watching her cook so much it was probably the best part about my childhood” he said smiling.

“aww notts a mummys boy” you teased

“yeah i was” he laughed

“wh-"

*DING*

you both jumped at the sound

“that’s loud” you stood up

“um well take your cakes out of the oven now before they burn” you said awkwardly rolling on the balls on your feet.

Once the cakes were cooked down the kids stuffed them into their pockets, seeing as there weren’t any containers (that they could find)

“Well come back tomorrow” you sighed “hopefully the teacher will show up”

Once all the children left you grabbed your bag and walked towards the door before turning to the three boys at the back of the class

“thank you for helping me today” you smiled as nott stared at you. “i’ll see you tomorrow” you left.

“Are you okay theo?” blaise asked the boy who was still staring at where you were moments ago.

“yeah, yeah she just reminded me of someone for a second”

[look-who-s-inside-again]

genuine question, enz is our third or something, right?…RIGHT??

”resting your head on Enzo’s shoulder next to you. He gave your knee a light squeeze as he bit his lip to hold his laughter.”

RIGHT??!

“Enzo smiled down at you before yelping at you pinching his side. ‘Mean Enzie!’ You fought a giggle as you pushed his hand away from your hip where he tried to retaliate.”

REF, CAN THEY DO THAT???!!!!

“You turned on your side, Enzo running his fingers through your hair. You relished the feeling before responding to Pansy”

YOUR HONOR, HAPPY PRIDE, THIS IS POLYAMORY, RIGHT???!!!!! right?

manchild - mattheo riddle

summary: you love matty but sometimes he can be…a lot

warnings: none

an: a sab & micah yap brought to you live

You flopped down on to the sofa unceremoniously, letting out a slightly dramatic groan before resting your head on Enzo’s shoulder next to you. He gave your knee a light squeeze as he bit his lip to hold his laughter.

“Tough day?” Pansy asked from the chaise across from you. You nodded, slipping down from Enzo’s shoulder to lay your head in his lap and hang your legs off the arm of the sofa.

“Tough, frustrating. Potato, patato, right?” You waved your hand in the air before punching the bridge of your nose. “Matty’s just kind of putting me through the ringer today.”

Enzo tilted his head to the side, “What’d he do this time?”

You let out a long sigh, “It’s just- I love my boyfriend. I really do; he’s my lover boy. My baby, my sweet boy-”

“Gag,” Enzo’s bounced his legs up making your head lift and fall slightly.

You smacked his stomach, “Oh shut it…Like I was saying, I love him but sometimes he’s just kind of like..”

Theo smirked to himself, “Stupid?”

You smiled but shook your head, “No, Teddy, I was going to say-”

“Slow?” Pansy interjected.

You playfully glared in her direction, “No, not that either. It’s more so-”

“Useless?” Enzo smiled down at you before yelping at you pinching his side.

“Mean Enzie!” You fought a giggle as you pushed his hand away from your hip where he tried to retaliate.

“He’s kind of like a manchild,” you managed to get out between scolding Enzo and slapping his hands away. “I swear the type always comes running to me.”

Theo snorted, “Fanculo la tua vita, huh babe?”

You grinned at him, “Truly. Can’t let little ol’ innocent me be.” You threw your arm over your forehead on faux dramatics, “Before me, I swear he didn’t know anything about self-care. His curls were dying of thirst before I came along.”

“Yeah, without you half his brain isn’t there,” Enzo joked, laughing to himself.

You shook your head, “I just don’t understand how he can be so sexy one moment and the next he’s just so..”

“Dumb?” Theo finished, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.

You gave him the finger, but his smile only grew.

Pansy giggled at the interaction, “How has he survived the earth so long? I swear if you weren’t here half the things he needed to do wouldn’t get done.”

You turned on your side, Enzo running his fingers through your hair. You relished the feeling before responding to Pansy, “I choose to blame his mum.”

The other three nodded in unison.

“Blame who’s mum?” Mattheo walked over to where the lot of you sat, picking up only the tail end of the conversation.

He lifted your legs to sit on the sofa before lowering them on his lap. He looked between everyone, clearly still waiting on a response.

Enzo stumbled over his words slightly, “Oh, erm, Malfoy’s. Just saying she er-”

“Does everything for him,” Pansy finished.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, “You have no idea. I love Auntie Cissy but she really raised Draco to be kind of a manchild.”

The group couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

@musingsofahufflepuff 😌

[look-who-s-inside-again]

aw wait, this is so cute wtf

Health Threats

Summary: Mattheo likes to leave you letters that are definitely not love letters, according to him.

✷　✦　　✦　　☆　*　　•*.　•　*°　　　　　*　　✯　　　·　　　　

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when it began.

You nearly missed it. Just a crinkled bit of parchment wedged carelessly in the bottom of your bag, half-covered in chocolate frog foil and a tangle of quills. It wasn’t until the soft pulse of magic caught your eye—a faint golden glow curling along the torn edges—that you reached for it. Your heart stuttered. That charm—it was unmistakable. You’d seen Mattheo use it before, his long fingers flicking carelessly through the air, lazy and practiced. He never used it for classwork. Only for… other things. Private things. The kind of things not meant for prying eyes. When you unfolded the note, the edges stayed warm in your hands.

In that familiar, jagged scrawl you’d seen a hundred times across the margins of his essays—dark ink pressed a little too hard into the parchment, like even the act of writing it had been urgent. Messy, sharp, undeniably his. You could almost hear his voice behind the words, low and impatient, like he hadn’t meant for you to see it but couldn’t stop himself from writing it anyway.

“Skip lunch one more time and I swear I’ll carry you into the Great Hall and sit you down myself. Don’t make me worry more than I already do.”

You’d stared at the note for a long moment, lips twitching into a reluctant smile. The threat wasn’t empty — not coming from him. You’d sighed, tucked the parchment into your pocket like it meant something, and made your way to dinner before he could make a scene.

After that, it became a thing — the language only you and Mattheo spoke. Ink-stained scraps, glowing edges, veiled concern disguised as threats.

The notes started showing up everywhere — tucked into your Herbology book, slipped inside your mittens, once even transfigured into a paper rose left on your windowsill. They were never signed, never obvious, but always undeniably him. His magic lingered like smoke on the parchment — wild, electric, hard to define — and the messy, looping letters practically growled Riddle without ever needing to say it.

Some had the energy of a howler disguised as a love note — loud, dramatic, and vaguely threatening.

“Wrap up with your scarf, dumbass. It’s snowing. If you get sick, I’ll hex myself for dating someone this stupid.”

Some were affectionate in a way only Mattheo could manage: sharp, chaotic, and oddly endearing.

“Tell anyone what I’m about to say and I’ll deny it, but you looked fucking beautiful at breakfast. The jam on your nose didn’t even ruin it. Much.”

Then there were the notes that whispered, not shouted—like he was testing the waters with something important.

“Don’t pretend for me. I can tell when something’s off.”

You didn't mention the notes aloud, though they echoed in your mind. You figured if he wanted to talk about it, he would.

One day, after a draining morning and a class that felt endless, you were trudging down the corridor, chest tight with frustration. Your bag hung heavily off one shoulder, and when you reached inside to grab a quill, your fingers grazed something familiar—a scrap of parchment nestled deep within.

This one felt different. Folded carefully, every crease sharp and deliberate, like he’d actually slowed down just for you. Your heart picked up pace as you slipped into a quiet alcove by the courtyard and unfolded the note.

“Quiet as a shadow lately, and I bet you’re forgetting to eat again. If you don’t show up to dinner tonight, I swear to Merlin I’ll carry you there over my shoulder. Don’t think I won’t. Also—if anyone’s bothering you, tell me. I’ll make it stop. You don’t have to handle shit alone anymore, alright?”

You blinked down at the note, your throat suddenly feeling tight and dry, like you’d swallowed a lump of stone. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gripped the parchment, heart pounding louder than the footsteps echoing in the hall.

It wasn’t only the words that caught you off guard—it was that, despite everything, Mattheo was trying. In his fucked up, violent, emotionally constipated way, Mattheo Riddle was writing you little love notes.

You brought the parchment gently to your lips, a soft smile curling there as warmth spread through your chest, thawing the chill around you.

Later that evening, when you finally made your way into the Slytherin common room, he was there—slouched back in his favorite chair by the fire, boots resting on the table, his tie undone. The moment he saw you, his gaze lifted slowly, like he’d been waiting.

“Still alive and kicking, huh? Congrats on that.” He let his fingers brush the back of your hand, quick and almost accidental, but meaningful all the same.

Arching an eyebrow, you shot back, “Funny, coming from the guy who leaves ‘death threats’ in my bag like some kind of charming serial killer.”

He gave you a slow blink, then reached out, his hand settling lightly on your hip as if drawn there by some magnetic force. "They're not death threats, they are health threats. There's a difference." His voice was thick with that slow, dangerous accent, curling down your spine like a dark promise you couldn’t ignore.

You leaned in and dropped the note in his lap, trying not to melt under the casual brush of his fingers against your waist like you always did.

He looked at the note, then back at you, mouth tilting in a reluctant grin. “Bit early for that one. Was gonna save it for when you looked worse.”

“I needed it. Not that I’m admitting you were right.” You nudged his knee, but he just smirked and reached for you, dragging you between his legs with easy, practiced hands. “I keep all of them,” you said, a little breathless as his fingertips ghosted up your thighs like it didn’t even register to him anymore—like he needed to touch you to think.

That caught him off guard. His jaw ticked once, shoulders shifting like he didn’t know where to put the sudden swell of emotion in his chest. He looked away, eyes flicking toward the fire as if it might burn the softness off of him. His fingers paused on your thigh, then resumed—slower now, more deliberate.

“You’re such a sap,” he muttered. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re the one writing me love notes disguised as threats.”

He scoffed. “They’re not love notes.” But there was a flush on his cheeks and a curl at the corner of his mouth he couldn’t quite hide.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Mm. Sure.”

His gaze met yours—steady, intense, just shy of gentle. “You’re mine,” he said quietly, like the words had been waiting in his chest. “I’ll threaten you, bribe you, hex the rest of the world if I have to. Of course, I’m going to worry. I don’t know how not to anymore.”

You smiled, small and certain, heart fluttering.

And when he found the note the next morning—tucked right next to his wand—he stared at it for a long time.

“You’re mine too. Keep sending me those ridiculous threats. I never want them to stop.”

He folded it carefully. Pocketed it like something sacred. And smiled like the world had finally tilted in his favor.

[look-who-s-inside-again]

oh, yeah, for sure, cool

Daddy’s Day

summary: I love you the mostest. You make soup when I’m sick and do the best voices. You are my hero. characters: teen dad! mattheo. toddler daughter. uncle theo. uncle enzo warnings: none! just fluff word count: 899

It started with a whisper.

A secret, crayon-stained idea whispered into Uncle Theo’s ear while Mattheo was in the other room, muttering about lost socks and brushing tangled hair.

“I wanna make Daddy a surprise,” she said seriously, tugging on Theo’s sleeve. “For the Daddy Day.”

Theo blinked, crouching to her level. “You mean Father’s Day?”

She nodded. “The Daddy Day. With cake. And sparkles. And glue.”

Theo, ever the agent of chaos, grinned. “I’m in.”

By Saturday morning, the plan was in full motion.

The moment Mattheo disappeared upstairs to shower, she launched into action-pajamas askew, wild curls bouncing, dragging her glitter-covered makeup case behind her like a suitcase of secrets. She stood on her tiptoes to open the front door when Theo arrived, his arms full of cake mix, mismatched baking supplies, and chaos in his grin.

“We’re making a sparkle cake,” Theo muttered as he stepped inside. “With blue icing, because apparently it needs to match his favorite color.”

Enzo showed up minutes later, sipping coffee and still half-asleep, only to be ambushed with hugs and a sticker on his forehead that read Best Grandma.

“I didn’t argue,” he said with a shrug, setting down a bag of sprinkles. “She seemed pretty sure.”

“She’s running the whole show,” Theo added, tying on a novelty apron that said Kiss the Cook, or Else.

And she was.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on her hips, directing them like a general preparing for battle. She assigned roles-Theo was in charge of the oven, Enzo would help decorate the card, and she, of course, would handle the mixing.

With a whisk twice the size of her arm, she stirred the batter with fierce concentration, occasionally licking the spoon and smearing flour onto Theo’s apron like war paint.

“No shells in Daddy’s cake!” she scolded when Theo cracked an egg too fast and sent bits flying into the bowl. “Only sparkles.”

“Yes, Chef,” he replied solemnly.

The kitchen descended into beautiful chaos. Glitter floated through the air like dust. A trail of frosting led from the fridge to the table. The batter made it into the pan-but also onto the floor, the counter, and the back of Enzo’s hoodie.

Meanwhile, the card came to life under her sticky hands. She drew a picture of her and Mattheo holding hands beneath a wobbly rainbow, stick-figure versions of them with huge smiles and stars all around. Above it, in bright purple marker (and with Enzo’s help on the spelling), she wrote:

“Happy Daddy Day. I love you the mostest. You make soup when I’m sick and do the best voices. You are my hero.”

She sealed it with a dinosaur sticker and a kiss on the corner.

Mattheo padded downstairs just as Theo pulled the cake from the oven. His curls were damp, sticking to his forehead, and he was toweling off the back of his neck when he paused in the doorway.

The scene before him looked like the kitchen had exploded-and it kind of had.

Flour-coated counters. Glitter in the air. A spatula stuck to the fridge. And in the middle of it all was his daughter, cheeks flushed pink, apron slipping off one shoulder, card clutched proudly in both hands.

“Surpriiiiiise!” she squealed.

Mattheo blinked. “What... is all this?”

She ran to him full force, throwing her arms around his legs. “It’s Daddy Day! We made you cake and a card and Uncle Theo only burned one thing!”

Theo held up two fingers behind her back.

Mattheo crouched, carefully accepting the card she handed him. He stared at the crayon drawing. The sparkles. The way the "Y" in "Daddy" was drawn like a heart. The lump in his throat grew thick and unmovable.

She looked up at him, eyes shining. “You’re my best friend.”

He pulled her into his arms, card pressed against her back. “You’re mine, too.”

“Even when I spill?” she whispered.

“Especially then.”

[look-who-s-inside-again]

LIVED for this, oh my god the queen is finally back!

Gotta love that punch first ask questions later mentality, god bless Mattheo. He went “YOU’RE scared”

The reader doing the whole don’t say the thing bit was so camp and I ADORED it! And Mattheo doubling down because he might as well make the most of his funeral procession before Theo kills him? ART

Also, I am obsessed with Theo as a sibling, I think he would legitimately be one of the greatest brothers in the hell hole that is his home. I can’t even imagine what these two have been through together sharing that father.

…what if I had an absolutely diabolical thought…thank god this wasn’t the case, but imagine if theo had also wanted mattheo only to find out mattheo’s in love with his sister who’s similar to him in so many ways (almost all but one😭)

WHO SAID THAT

fears & fantasies - mattheo riddle

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ summary - mattheo is your brother's best friend and your biggest crush so surely when he offers you comfort it's purely platonic...right?

word count: 3k

soundtrack: peace - taylor swift

a/n: requested by the lovely @darlingshecried - thank you love for this fun and adorable concept ♡ and special shoutout to @cipheress-to-k-pop's mattheo fic beauty and the beast which inspired theo's gf's name (#thevangeline forever).

Your bare feet padded quickly against the cold flagstone of the dungeon floor.

You held your arms around yourself, shivering as you tried to avert your eyes from the long shadows in the corners that looked like ghosts, like dementors, like your nightmare.

You focused on putting one foot in front of the other as you swiped the tears out of your eyes. It was just a dream, it wasn't real, it was just a dream you repeated in your head, a mantra. But what you knew to be true in your mind and how it made you feel were two completely different things, and you weren't able to shake the cold terror from your bones. No, at this point you knew there was only one solution, one thing that could make you feel better, your brother, Theo.

Your entire childhood he'd watched out for you and tried to shield you from the darkness that had swarmed your family. But he was barely a year older than you, he was just as much a child as you were, and he couldn't defend you from everything all by himself; you were left riddled with nightmares, something he consistently blamed himself for.

He could hear them come in the thin walls between your rooms, the way you'd mumble quietly and then louder, panicked and fearful and you lost count of the number of times you'd woken up, just before the very worst of them to his gentle whispers, as he held you.

"Stellina" he'd whisper quietly. Little star. "You're okay, it's okay." And it would be, instantly. As long as he was there.

You pushed open the door to his dormitory and padded quietly past the other four poster beds, careful not to wake the boys that dozed beside him.

But when you got to his bed, your stomach dropped in dread as you realized it was empty.

No, no, no you thought as you looked around like the shadows would reveal him instead of closing in on you as you tried unsuccessfully to catch your breath, your panic rising.

"YN?" a voice whispered and you turned quickly, nearly tripping over yourself in fear.

"Whoa, hey, hey you're alright."

Through the narrow slice of moonlight coming in through the window you could see Mattheo leaning out from under his covers, curls askew, eyes barely open as he peered at you.

And your heart continued to race for an entirely different reason.

You'd known Mattheo since first year, since he and Theo became inseparable, because in many ways you'd become inseparable too. But growing up alongside him as he went from a reckless boy to a troublesome teenager to the unbearably hot guy in front of you was it's own sort of torture, because you knew he never looked at you as anything more than his own little sister.

"T-Teddy?" you asked shakily.

"He's with Evangeline."

His girlfriend. You nodded quickly, understandingly, even as your heart sank and you wound your hands together nervously.

"Right, yeah" you said shaking your head as you tried to calm yourself.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked patiently.

You met his eyes and nodded slowly as you gnawed your bottom lip, trying to bite back your emotions, even as you realized he might be the only other person to really understand you, knowing he had terrible nightmares too.

"C'mere" he offered, waving you over to him before making room in his bed.

You hesitated.

He had never once intimated anything with you. But then you realized that while your mind was running rampant at the vision of him shirtless in his rumpled sheets inviting you to sleep with him, he was only doing what any good friend, any older brother would do. Surely he didn't see you any other way.

So you moved to his bedside and crawled beneath the thick, warm covers.

It's the right thing to do.

It's the friendly, brotherly thing to do.

Theo would have asked me to do it Mattheo thought.

But Theo would not have asked him to stare at the dips and curves of your figure in your barely-there pajama set nor to selfishly revel at the idea of you in his bed.

No, for as careful and intentional as Mattheo was around you, if Theo knew half the things Mattheo thought, he'd push him straight off the astronomy tower.

He knew he was tempting fate, tempting himself to have you next to him like this, but you were scared, you were vulnerable and there was no way he was going to leave you like that, shivering, teary eyed, and alone.

She just wants her brother. And I'm the next best thing.

You met Mattheo's dark brown eyes that glimmered in the dim light.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice gravelly with sleep.

You shook your head, gnawing at your lip again in a way that drew his attention there, that made him want to run his finger, his lips over it to get you to stop worrying.

"Do you want a hug?"

You paused only a moment before nodding.

He reached for you and gently pulled you into his arms as you wound yours around him, your head falling to his bare chest.

He held you gently but in a way that made you feel like nothing could touch you and it was like all of your shadows melted away as you let out a wobbly sigh.

He could feel you melt against him, could feel the way you physically relaxed in his arms, and he held his breath, overcome with the scent of your shampoo, at knowing that he was able to bring you peace.

His mind raced as he tried to think about anything other than the way he could distinctly feel every place your bodies touched, the way you always smiled at him big and wide and carefree, how you knew him better than nearly anyone else and still loved him unconditionally, the way you said his name with just the slightest hint of your Italian accent, the way the vowels rolled off your tongue in a way that let you taste every letter.

And subconsciously he squeezed you a little tighter as he reconciled those thoughts with the fact that even though he'd spent years pining for you, you were the only girl he could never have.

You were asleep instantly, exhausted by your emotions, and the way your fear was followed so quickly by the feeling of Mattheo's strong arms, the scent of his sheets, of him, evergreen and cedar, the smell so familiar and enticing it felt like home.

You dreamt of him, in shades of your own memories, of swimming together in the lake, of watching the stars on a summer night, of him giving you a piggyback ride, and handing you a messy bundle of wildflowers for your birthday. Theo was there too, of course, but he was blurry, faded in the background in a way that left just the two of you in focus.

Warm you thought, and smiled.

You were so warm and cozy and peacefully rested as you came to in a space tinged in shades of green from the curtains of the four poster bed around you.

And then you felt the pressure of a weighted blanket that you slowly realized was actually a very large arm around you and memories of the night before came flooding back.

You were tucked firmly in Mattheo's grasp, your back to his chest that you could feel rising and falling in time with his warm breath at your neck.

This is heaven you thought as you sighed, your eyelids fluttering, until you were surrounded by mumbled voices of the other boys waking up which in turn caused Mattheo to stir next to you. He slowly unwound his arm from you and you could have groaned at the loss of his touch as you turned to face him to see his cheeks pink.

"You alright?" he asked sleepily as he rubbed at his eye and yawned widely.

No, I think I am hopelessly in love with you you thought.

"Yeah" you mumbled. "Sorry about last night, I just–"

"–Don't apologize. I get it, trust me. The shit we've seen? Fucks with our heads" he said as he stared at the top of his four-poster before looking back at you with a resigned smile.

You smiled back as you heard the others shuffle out of the room, taking that as your window of opportunity to follow suit.

"Sooo, maybe we don't tell Theo about..." you started, gesturing between the two of you as you sat up to leave.

Mattheo's brow furrowed. You never kept anything from your brother... Unless...there was something more here than he'd thought?

"Wouldn't want him to worry!" you clarified quickly. "You know how he gets."

"Right, right, yeah no, understood" Mattheo agreed.

But he saw the blush on your cheeks, the way you averted your eyes as the covers moved to reveal his bare chest, his boxers and he couldn't stop himself as he leaned forward after you as you stepped out of his bed.

"M'always here if you need me" he said, smiling at you in a way that was both boyish and devastating and you were at a complete loss for words as you nodded and shuffled out of his room.

It happened three more times that week.

You wanted to be angry at Theo, but you couldn't deny that you craved Mattheo's comfort and were getting all too used to sliding into his bed, to fitting yourself in his arms like they were meant for you. Each time got easier, each time got more familiar, each time your defenses dropped a little more and each time Mattheo was convinced he was right, that maybe maybe his forbidden crush was reciprocated.

He knew he couldn't ask you outright, you'd deny it out of principle. But he was determined to find another way to confirm his theory.

It started small.

When you crawled into bed last night he'd reached and tucked your hair behind your ear and let his fingers linger at your cheek and he'd felt the way you squeezed him just a little tighter.

Then it was drawing lazy circles on your back, languid and slow against the soft cotton fabric of your pajamas that tortured him and he felt you hum in appreciation, the soft sound enough to make him strain against his boxers in a way that was about to make his efforts not-so-subtle. And he smirked, because he was certain he knew exactly how you felt, now he just needed to figure out what to do about it.

But then the unexpected happened.

You had drifted off to sleep in his arms, your weight heavy against him, your soft breaths a melody that caused his own eyelids to flutter shut.

And then he had a nightmare.

Of you, scared, screaming for him, but he couldn't reach you despite how hard he tried, his strides stuck in quicksand. He called for you over and over but he couldn't get to you, couldn't have you.

A soft voice responded, calling his name, pulling him out of the vision to see you, awake and whole, leaning over him, your hair curtaining your face which was fixed in tender concern for him.

His heart raced and he struggled to catch his breath as you cupped his face. 'Hey, hey, bello, Mattheo, you're okay' you murmured sweetly and he reached to place his hand over yours, holding it there as he breathed heavily and met your gaze.

"You're okay" he repeated after a second, as much to himself as to you.

"I'm okay" you replied slowly, smiling in confusion.

He scrunched his face and swallowed, eyes closing as he tried to gather himself. "Sorry, you–you were in my dream. S'stupid" he muttered as he wiped a hand over his face. A pause. "I guess I was just...worried about you."

"So you're looking out for me even in your dreams now, huh?" you asked teasingly.

He smiled before letting out a breathy laugh, the sound reassuring you enough to lay back down next to him as he turned to face you.

At this distance you were close enough to see every detail of his face highlighted in the sapphire blue of the night, the smallest freckles on his nose, the curve of his lips and the twinkle in his eye as he reached and brushed his thumb over your cheek in a touch so delicate you sighed and leaned into it.

He just wanted to feel you, to know you were real, that this wasn't part of a dream where you'd disappear in his grasp but then your eyes fluttered to his lips, lingering there, like you were lost in thought as you rolled your bottom lip into your mouth, and that was his breaking point.

He leaned in slowly, closing the distance between you and pulled you towards him as he pressed his lips to yours.

And thank Merlin you didn't pull back or hesitate, no, you reached for him, pulling yourself further into his arms as you kissed him fervently in a way that had him muffling a groan against your lips as his hands wound into your hair.

He pulled himself on top of you as your legs and limbs tangled and you grasped for each other, submitting to every temptation you'd had for days, for years as you immersed yourself in him, rolling your tongue against his as he squeezed your side, his fingers finding the warm skin at your ribs under your shirt and his hips rolling against yours until you let out the quietest, sweetest sound that had him pulling back in panic.

"Fuck" he sighed, slamming his eyes closed and turning his head at the sight of you beneath him, breathless and flushed.

"Don't say it" you cautioned. "Don’t you dare say it."

He paused.

"Theo's going to fucking kill me."

"UGH!" you replied, moving to cover your face with your hands. "Why did you have to bring him up!?"

Mattheo pried one of your hands away as he peered at you and you frowned up at him.

"He's going to kill me either way" he said as he laughed, "at least let me make the most of it."

You pushed his chest playfully.

"I'm serious!" he said. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?"

You moved your other hand from your face as you looked at him.

"Fuck YN" he sighed, shaking his head.

And just the idea that Mattheo wanted you perhaps a fraction as badly as you'd wanted him made the thought of Theo's wrath fade into the background as you strained to press your lips to his. That will be a problem for tomorrow you thought as you lost yourself in him again.

Tomorrow came far too quickly for either of your liking.

You'd agreed that you needed to tell Theo; you didn't keep anything from him and Mattheo didn't either, so when Theo plopped into his seat beside you at breakfast Mattheo caught your eye nervously across the table.

"Stellina" Theo said by way of greeting, as he reached for his food.

"Ciao orsacchiotto" Big bear you said, falling into your childhood nicknames for each other.

But regardless of how many times Mattheo nodded encouragingly towards Theo and tangled his foot with yours under the table you simply couldn't find the words to tell him what you'd done.

"Hey, I made out...and then some… with Mattheo for over an hour last night three feet from your bed." "Hey, I want to date your best friend who you've blindly trusted with me for seven years." "Hey, let me give you a mental image you can never unsee."

Yeah...

There was no good way to say it.

And before long, breakfast was over and you and Mattheo were trailing after Theo on the way to class.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he whispered nervously.

"I wanted to, I'm just ... scared."

"YOU'RE scared?!" he hissed.

"You're his best friend, you tell him!"

"You're his sister!"

"What's up with you two?" Theo asked as he turned to look at you.

You looked up at Theo and then back to Mattheo and cleared your throat.

"Teddy... Orsacchiotto" you said sweetly, smiling at him as his eyes narrowed, knowing far too well when you were trying to butter him up.

"I-I've been sleeping with Mattheo—"

And the moment the words left your mouth, you knew they were the wrong ones.

"—Wait! I mean!—"

"—WHAT?!" His eyes flashed to Mattheo. "What the fuck is the matter with you!" he asked, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming him into the wall.

"No! Teddy! That's not what I—"

Crack.

Blood splattered as his fist connected with Mattheo's nose and you continued to shout, grabbing for Theo as Mattheo howled in pain, grabbing his nose.

"Teddy, stop!!!—"

"—She's my fucking sister!!—"

"—I didn't!! That's not!!—"

Theo tackled him to the ground.

Merda you thought. Shit.

You sat outside the infirmary between the two of them, one holding an icepack to his nose, the other to his knuckles, refusing to look at each other as you sighed and rubbed your temple.

"There wasn't any other phrase you could have used?" Mattheo asked, his voice muffled behind the bloodied ice pack as he looked down at you. He looked awful but he was smirking.

"I'm sorry, I just—"

He reached for your hand and winked at you, clearly teasing you as he wound his fingers in yours.

"I'm sitting right here" Theo mumbled in response to the gesture.

You moved to pull your hand away but Mattheo held onto it.

A few people walked by and you all quieted for a moment.

"My fucking sister, dude. Really?" Theo sighed as he carded his hand through his hair, still refusing to make eye contact with either of you.

Two minutes passed. Three.

"Look. If you hurt her—" he threatened.

And your face broke into a smile, giddy, knowing that that warning was the closest thing to a blessing either of you could hope for.

"—I would never" Mattheo said quickly, matter-of-factly, in a way you knew was true even before he'd said it as he pulled your hand to his lips and kissed it.

You glowed up at him, your cheeks pink with the anticipation of exactly what this would mean for the two of you before you turned and wrapped your arms around Theo's stiff shoulders.

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts

[look-who-s-inside-again]

Oh, right, cool

See, it’s actually DIABOLICAL to read about someone slowly breaking down the walls of someone who has trust issues knowing full well it’s all for the purpose of exploiting and betraying them.

Istg, the minute that man says “what if we ran away?”

Sorry wizarding world and the good of mankind or whatever, because idk who reader is, but I’M not fucking this up

PEACE🏃‍♀️

Of course I manipulated you X Mattheo riddle

MasterList

Harry Potter Universe Masterlist

The first time I truly saw Mattheo Riddle not just the face in the corridor or the name that hung like a curse around Slytherin’s neck he was cursing a seventh-year under his breath for borrowing a book and not returning it.

Not exactly dark magic, but it told me something. He didn’t like being crossed. He didn’t like being ignored. And he had a hell of a temper.

Perfect.

Because I had been sent to break him.

“You’re the only one clever enough to get close that he might trust.” Potter had said, his brow furrowed with worry that he tried to hide. “We need to know what he knows. What his weaknesses are. Who he’s loyal to. And more importantly what he’s willing to betray.”

“And what if he’s like his father?” I asked.

“Let’s pray he's not.”

I was a Ravenclaw, after all. Cool, collected. A girl of logic and careful observation. I could do this. I could fake friendship. Charm someone. Make them believe in a lie long enough for me to slip under their skin.

It wouldn’t be the first time. But it would be the most dangerous.

Mattheo Riddle was guarded. He moved like someone always listening for footsteps behind him. His eyes tracked every movement in a room, his wand always within reach. The son of the Dark Lord hidden in plain sight.

So I started small.

Late comments in class. Forced pairing in Potions. Sitting just a little closer in the library. Watching his walls inch back, one suspicious glance at a time.

He was wary at first. Of course he was. But I was patient.

I laughed at his sarcasm. Brushed off his biting remarks. Matched his intellect in debates and challenged his theories when no one else dared.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered once after I corrected his Latin translation in front of Slughorn.

“You’re welcome,” I replied sweetly.

But I caught the way his lip twitched.

He was amused.

He was cracking.

He started walking with me after class. Only halfway down the corridor, never too close. But it was something. I reported everything back to the Order, straight into the charmed parchment that would vanish once read.

He watches his left flank like he expects someone to attack him from it. He sleeps with his wand under his pillow. Keeps a silver ring on a chain around his neck. Don’t know what it means yet.

“Get him to trust you,” Lupin said one evening. “We don’t need a miracle, just enough to see what side he’ll take when the time comes.”

“And if I start to feel sorry for him?”

“You won’t. He’s his father’s son.”

I wish that had been true.

Because somewhere between the calculated conversations and the silent walks by the Black Lake… I stopped feeling like I was pretending.

It was in the way he asked, quietly, what my childhood was like. How he stared at me too long when he thought I wouldn’t notice. How his shoulders relaxed when I laughed, like it startled him every time.

And that night in the library, when he sat across from me and said, “You make it hard to hate you, you know that?”

Something inside me pulled. Tight and uninvited.

But I smiled coolly and said, “Good. That’s sort of the point.”

He smiled back. Not his usual smirk. A real smile.

I didn’t sleep that night.

The Order was thrilled.

He’s pulling away from the others, I wrote. Doesn’t attend the secret meetings anymore. I think he’s doubting them.

I never told them about the sketch he gave me. Just slipped it into my bag one day, a soft charcoal drawing of me in the courtyard, hair messy from the wind, lips curled like I’d just told a secret.

“You’re terrifying when you focus,” he said when I confronted him about it, cheeks faintly pink.

“I thought you didn’t like sentiment.”

“I don’t. But you make it… tolerable.”

My heart flipped.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

By spring, he started telling me things.

About his mother. About the way people stared at him, always expecting him to go dark, to explode. About the nightmares.

“I hate my name,” he confessed once, voice barely audible. “Riddle. It’s not even mine. Just a legacy of something I never asked for.”

And I said nothing. Just reached out and took his hand, letting the silence hold the weight for him.

I told myself I was doing my job.

I didn’t realise I’d started protecting him.

The last report I wrote was a lie.

Nothing new to note. His behaviour is consistent. No major developments.

But that same night, Mattheo kissed me.

We were in an empty corridor, moonlight spilling through the high windows. He’d just finished ranting about Slughorn’s blatant favouritism when I’d laughed too hard, bumped into him, and something in the air shifted.

He looked at me like he wasn’t sure if he should.

So I kissed him first.

And when he kissed me back, slow and reverent like he’d waited years, I knew I was in trouble.

Not the mission.

Me.

We didn’t speak of what we were. Not out loud. But everything in the way he looked at me said it for him.

He touched my hand like it was breakable. Waited for me outside Ravenclaw Tower like a secret he didn’t want to lose. He let me see him not just the hardened shell, but the boy inside it.

The one with questions. Regret. Hope.

I had no right to want him.

But I did.

And that was the beginning of the end.

The thing about lies is they get heavier the longer you carry them.

At first, it was easy. Just glimpses, whispers. A shared joke in class, a touch of his hand when no one was looking. I convinced myself I was only doing what the Order needed. That whatever I felt for Mattheo Riddle was irrelevant. Manageable.

But then he started trusting me.

Really trusting me.

And I couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter.

We were sitting beneath the astronomy tower one night, the sky ink-black above us, stars glittering in a way that made the world feel smaller. He leaned back on his elbows, gaze somewhere far beyond the castle walls.

“I used to have this dream,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “When I was a kid. That someone would take it all away. The name. The expectations. Everything. Just let me be… someone else.”

I didn’t say anything. Just let the silence stretch, waiting.

He turned to look at me.

“You don’t flinch when you say my name,” he said. “Most people do.”

“I don’t see your father when I look at you.”

“You should.”

Something cracked in his voice.

That’s when he told me.

“The plan is already in motion,” he said a week later, eyes dark and haunted. We were tucked away in the Restricted Section, our books long forgotten. “They’re going to kill Potter. Before the end of the term.”

My heart dropped.

The words seemed to freeze between us, dense and poisonous.

“What?” I whispered.

He nodded once, jaw tight. “They think it’ll send a message. Break the spirit of the ‘good side.’ That’s what he calls it. My father.”

“And what do you think?”

Mattheo’s eyes met mine. They weren’t cold. They were scared.

“I think… I don’t know. I think I hate him. But I can’t stop what’s coming. I’m not strong enough.”

“You are.”

“You don’t know what he’s capable of”

“I do,” I said, sharper than I meant to. “More than you think.”

His gaze narrowed. “Then why are you still here?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Because I care about you.”

And I did.

God help me, I really did.

But the moment he said Harry’s name, I knew.

I had to report it.

The Order had been waiting for this kind of intel for months. Plans were vague, guesses and half-truths. This was real. Concrete. And I had to be the one to hand it over.

Even if it meant handing Mattheo over with it.

Especially if it meant that.

I wrote it down with shaking hands, the ink smudged by a tear I didn’t realise had fallen.

Mattheo told me tonight Voldemort plans to kill Harry before the term ends. He says the plan is already underway.

He begged me not to tell anyone.

I folded the parchment, charmed it to vanish, and sat there staring at the empty space where it had been.

He trusted me.

He trusted me.

Mattheo met me the next night in the courtyard. No one was around. He looked different tense, searching.

“I had a nightmare,” he admitted. “You were gone. Just… vanished. And I didn’t know if it was real or not.”

“It wasn’t,” I whispered. “I’m still here.”

He came closer, his hands brushing mine.

“If I asked you to run away with me, would you?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Leave all this. Him. The war. Everything. We could go. Disappear.”

My chest ached.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. And don’t lie to me, Y/N I know something’s changed. You’ve been quiet. Distant.”

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“About betraying me?”

His voice cracked.

I looked up.

His eyes burning, wet, terrified were already begging for an answer.

And I didn’t give one.

I found him in the library three nights later. He was waiting.

He’d already found out.

He stood when I entered, a folded letter in his hand parchment, my handwriting, one of the earlier reports I’d written but failed to destroy completely.

He must’ve gone looking.

“Tell me it’s not true,” he said, his voice low and shaking.

I said nothing.

He held the letter like it was poison. “Tell me you didn’t lie to me.”

I forced myself to stand still. “Mattheo”

“Tell me you weren’t just some clever Ravenclaw mission girl sent to spy on me.”

I looked away.

That was enough.

He laughed bitterly, dropping the paper to the floor.

“Of course,” he said. “Of course I was stupid enough to believe someone like you could care.”

And then I did it.

I delivered the final blow.

My voice went cold, detached.

“Of course I was manipulating you.”

His breath caught. His eyes went glassy.

I wanted to scream. To take it back. To tell him that somewhere along the way, everything had become real and I didn’t know when the pretending stopped.

But I couldn’t.

I was the hero. The spy. The loyal Order girl.

I had to protect everyone else.

Even if it meant shattering the boy who never asked to be his father’s son.

Mattheo took a step back, his voice suddenly quiet.

“Don’t do that. Don’t… pretend you didn’t mean any of it.”

I swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter what I meant.”

He stared at me for a long time, like he was trying to find the girl who used to laugh with him by the lake. The one who kissed him like she wanted forever.

But she was gone.

And he turned without another word.

Leaving me alone in a war I’d helped win… but lost him in the process.

The battlefield was chaos.

Smoke curled around shattered stones. Spells split through the air like lightning. Screams rang out some in pain, others in fury. Somewhere behind me, someone yelled my name, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

Because he was there.

Mattheo.

Across the courtyard. Standing with the other side. His wand drawn. His face sharp with fire and fury. But when he saw me really saw me he froze.

I did too.

It had been months since the night I shattered him with the words I didn't mean. Months since I’d watched him walk away with the pieces of what we almost had.

And now we were standing on opposite ends of a war neither of us wanted to fight.

I didn’t move.

He didn’t either.

Then everything happened at once.

A blur of movement to my left. One of our own a Gryffindor, I think, driven by rage more than reason raised their wand, spell on their lips.

Aimed right at him.

“Avada...”

“NO!”

I lunged in front of Mattheo before I even realised I was moving, throwing up a shield so fast it cracked with the force of the curse.

The spell slammed into it, sparking green before fizzling out. My knees nearly gave from the impact.

There was a gasp behind me.

The caster faltered. “Y/N, what?”

But I didn’t answer.

I turned around to face Mattheo.

He was still standing where he had been, eyes wide, stunned. The shock was clear on his face. I’d protected him. Me.

The girl who betrayed him.

The girl who lied.

And yet, I was the one who just risked her life for him.

We stared at each other, unmoving, while the world burned around us.

In that moment, it was like there was nothing else.

Just us.

Then like he could hear the pounding of my heart from across the stone he gave a single, silent nod.

I understood immediately.

We slipped away from the fight, dodging spells and smoke and people who wouldn’t understand. We didn’t run we couldn’t draw attention but somehow, we found each other through it all.

There was a broken corridor on the edge of the battleground, half-collapsed, hidden from the chaos. He ducked through it first. I followed, lungs tight, blood roaring in my ears.

The moment we were safe from view, he turned to me, breathing hard.

“You protected me.”

“Yes.”

“After everything?”

I didn’t know what to say. My throat felt thick.

He stepped closer, eyes searching mine.

“I don’t understand.”

I swallowed. “Neither do I.”

Silence.

Then, quieter: “Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know. I just when I saw him aim at you, I didn’t think. I just… moved.”

His jaw clenched. “And now?”

“I’d do it again.”

He blinked. “Even if I still hate you?”

“Even if you kill me.”

“Don’t say that.”

His voice broke.

I looked away.

He reached out but stopped just short of touching me.

“I hated you,” he said. “I tried to hate you.”

“I tried too,” I whispered.

He laughed bitterly. “You did a better job.”

“No, Mattheo. I just did what I was told.”

“And you regret it?”

“I regret hurting you.”

The words hung between us like ash in the air.

His expression twisted. Torn.

“Do you still believe in your side?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But I needed to see you again. Just once. In case…”

“In case I die?”

“In case I do.”

A long pause.

Then, carefully, he reached forward, his hand brushing against mine.

His fingers were warm. Familiar.

And trembling.

“Do you still love me?” he asked.

I blinked.

“I don’t know if I ever stopped.”

He inhaled sharply, like the words hit him physically. His grip tightened on my hand.

“I hate that I still love you,” he admitted.

“I know.”

Another silence. One that didn’t feel like the end.

Finally, I asked, “What happens now?”

He looked toward the battlefield beyond the crumbled wall.

Then back at me.

“I don’t know. But I don’t want to fight you.”

“Then don’t.”

“Then come with me.”

My breath caught.

“Where?”

“Anywhere that isn’t here.”

For one insane, beautiful second, I considered it. Running away. Starting over. Escaping the war that had twisted us into weapons.

But I couldn’t.

“You know I can’t.”

His jaw tightened.

“I have to go back,” I said. “They need me.”

“They’re using you.”

“And your side isn’t using you?”

He didn’t answer that.

Instead, he stepped closer, leaned his forehead against mine.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured.

“Same.”

Then, without a word, he kissed me.

Not like it was goodbye.

But like it was the last time he’d ever be brave enough to love me.

And when we pulled apart, he was already walking away.

Back into the war.

Back into the fire.

And I stood there, hand still tingling from his touch, knowing that even if we survived this battle…

The war between us was far from over.

The Dark Lord was dead.

I don’t know how long I stood there, frozen amidst the rubble and ruin, watching as the last curse green and blazing collided with his own. The sound was deafening. Like the very earth had split in two.

And then silence.

Just… silence.

No more screams. No more flashes of light. No more cries of grief or fury or revenge. The war was over.

The war was over.

Bodies were scattered across the grounds of Hogwarts. Smoke still curled lazily from the stones. I couldn’t feel my hands, even though they were clutching my wand so tightly it trembled.

But none of that mattered.

Because across the field, through the clearing dust and glowing dawn light, I saw him.

Mattheo.

Still alive.

Standing.

Looking around like he didn’t know what to do, where to go, what this all meant.

His eyes found mine.

And suddenly I was running.

I didn’t think I didn’t care if someone saw. If someone tried to stop me. My legs moved before my mind did, tearing through the grass and dirt, stumbling over cracked stone and fallen spells.

I ran until my lungs burned.

And then he was running too.

Toward me.

And the moment we crashed into each other, it was like the whole world aligned again. His arms wrapped around me so tightly I could barely breathe. My fingers clutched the back of his robe like he might vanish if I let go.

We said nothing at first.

Just held on.

Clinging to something real in the ruins of what had been.

When we finally pulled back, his eyes were shining. Not with tears. Not with fear. But with hope.

"Is it true?" he asked. "Is he really gone?"

I nodded, breathless. "Gone. It's over."

He exhaled like he'd been holding it for years. "I didn't think I'd live to see it."

"Neither did I."

"I thought I'd lost you."

"You didn’t."

He cupped my face, eyes roaming over every inch of me like he was memorising it. "They’re not going to come for me, are they? For who my father was?"

I shook my head. “You weren’t him. You never were. I won't let them.”

His lip quirked. “He would’ve hated that.”

“Good.”

He let out a laugh, hoarse and cracked, and leaned in so our foreheads touched.

"Do we get to have something now?" he whispered. "A life. Without sides. Without secrets."

"Yes."

"And you're sure?"

"Only about you."

That was all it took.

He kissed me again gentle at first, like he still couldn’t believe this was allowed. That this was real. Then deeper. Fiercer. Like the promise of a new beginning lived in my mouth.

I felt the war fall away.

The lies. The betrayal. The pain.

It was all gone.

He pulled back, his voice low. "You saved me.”

"You saved me."

"I don’t know what comes next."

I smiled. "We’ll figure it out."

"Together?"

"Always."

And in the quiet that followed the storm, Mattheo Riddle took my hand not as a weapon of war, not as a soldier, not as the son of the Dark Lord

But as a boy who had chosen love.

And I walked beside him, not as a spy, not as a Ravenclaw, not as a girl who once betrayed him

But as the one who would never leave his side again.

Not now.

Not ever.

[look-who-s-inside-again]

“I’ll never smoke again. I-I won’t steal your pumpkin juice without asking, I swear—”

PACK IT UP

Just breathe - Theo Nott x reader.

Word count: 2k

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Description: The castle was in pieces. The war ended only moments ago, but for Theodore, nothing matters except finding you in the wreckage. You were supposed to make it. You had to make it.

Warnings: War trauma, blood, near-death experience, swearing, emotional distress, depictions of death (non-graphic), mild dark themes, swearing, unedited

Reblogs, comments, and likes are extremely appreciated. <3

...

The castle was still burning.

The air was so warm.

Though all Theodore felt was the cold cement below him.

He tasted the thick metallic blood that was slowly reaching the back of his throat, desperately trying to rack his mind over what had just happened.

He smelled smoke so close it was as if he was inhaling it just as he would his cigarette.

'oh fuck, I'm absolutely dying' he thought to himself, or had he said it out loud?

His closed eyes winced, remembering the flashes of green, had someone killed him, or even tried to? Was he dead? At the hand of someone he knew, or maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t even meant for him. That's the thing with war, it didn’t have to mean anything to kill you, it just does.

Most of his body stiffened numb. His mind racing, where was his wand? He couldn't feel it between his fingers; he could hardly feel anything.

Where was he? Holy shit. Where are you.

With that, he jolted up, like a force against nature. As he sat up he took a gasp of air so heavy like a newborn's first breath, his hands wild from the rocking floor to his hair.

His first instinct was to get on his feet. His unsteady balance rocked as he paced to find you.

'where are you, no seriously where the fuck are you' he thought as he searched the faces of those around him

"You better be fucking alive" he said out loud, Theodore became so determined to reach you he paid no attention to the wreck around him, not to the blood stains that painted over every second step he took nor the cries he heard from what was once the great hall.

He looked up for a brief moment, he saw the mother and fathers, friends and peers weep over their losses. Bodies laying cold so close together, so many. So he only allowed himself a brief moment, he wouldn't go in, why would he, you aren't in there waiting to be mourned. Keep walking, he told himself as he walked past, not through the great hall.

His stride turned manic.

The constant ringing in his ear became a stopwatch, as if he was running out of time before he would find you.

Until he stopped in his tracks.

All that blood he tasted in his mouth, he was about to throw it up.

There you were.

His heart didn’t stop; it slammed.

“No—no, no—” he roared

He fell to his knees when he reached you, if you could even call it that, it was a pathetic attempt get to you, to grip your shoulders, to shake you up, he has fallen his chest colliding with ground next to you, the ground giving way like it wants to swallow him whole.

When his hand gripped your cold hand, he dipped his head into your chest, desperate to feel the rise and fall of breath.

“Don’t do this,” he rasps, his voice barely there. “Don’t fucking do this to me.”

He presses harder against your chest with the flat of his hand, then curls it into a fist and lets it hover, useless. Like he could beat your heart back to life. Like he would, if that’s what it took.

“I’m right here,” he chokes, his forehead pressed to yours now, the dirt between you be damned. “You hear me? I’m right fucking here.”

He couldn't feel anything, maybe that was because he was losing all control of his senses at the sight of you like this.

You don’t react. You don’t move. You don’t even twitch.

And that’s what makes the panic crawl up his throat, because if you were hurting, you’d scream. If you were okay, you’d speak.

But you don’t do either.

You just lie there. Limp. Quiet. Unbreathing.

He dragged you onto his lap, he cradled your face with his dirty hands.

“Wake up. Please. Just get up.”

“I swear to Merlin, I’ll never smoke again. I-I won’t steal your pumpkin juice without asking, I swear—”

His hand skated from your cheek, to your neck, to your chest.

Why weren’t you breathing?

“Breathe,” he begged. “The fuck, breathe—”

He shook you. Gentle at first. Then harder.

“Breathe for me”

He clutched your shoulders and hauled you upright, holding you tight against his chest like his ribs could do what your lungs wouldn’t.

“Breathe in me, breathe with me, just fucking breathe.”

It came out like a sob. He didn’t care, he was angry at you now, get up.

...

Somewhere far off, there was a sound. Ash. Stone. Burnt magic. Blood. You couldn’t tell if it was yours. Couldn’t tell if it mattered.

Everything felt heavy. Your ears rang. Your knees were scraped raw. Something was pressing down on you. Or maybe your body was caving in from the inside.

It’s over. That’s what it's saying.

But it doesn’t feel over. Not when your ears are ringing again. Not when your knees are scraped raw. Not when the only thing you can feel is the ache in your lungs.

Focus.

You could hear someone.

There it was again.

Saying your name like a prayer.

You knew that voice.

Theo.

“Please. Look at me.”

You tried.

You really tried.

Your limbs wouldn’t move.

“No—no, come on,” he sobbed. “Breathe. Please. Please”

You wanted to. You wanted to more than anything.

But your chest wouldn’t lift.

You were so fucking tired.

And he’s sobbing now, arms pulling you up into him, holding you against his heartbeat like he’s trying to give it to you. Like he’ll give you anything if you’ll just stay.

“I don’t care. Breathe for me. Breathe in me. Breathe with me. Just fucking breathe.”

You feel it. That crackle, like lightning in your ribs. The sharp sting of return.

And then air.

A gasp.

Yours.

...

The feeling was so faint, he thought he imagined it. But then again, there it was. A breath. A real one. A shallow, wheezing drag of air against his collarbone.

He jerks back, his face flinches. Stares. His eyes are wide, wild. Red.

And there you finally were, eyes opening, he felt your chest inhale and exhale.

“You stupid, stubborn girl. You scared the shit out of me.”

You tried to smile. It barely reached your lips, but he could tell

You felt so exhausted you closed your eyes again, Theo felt panic surge in his chest.

“Baby, look at me, eyes open, OK?”

“I’m tired.”

“I don’t care. You’re not dying in my arms, alright? You’re not doing that to me,” he began to shake you, to keep you awake, to keep you alive

You nod so gently that Theo lets out a groan.

He watched you nod, it was so polite, it shattered him.

Your eyes opened a little wider with each blink. You shifted, just enough to pull back slightly, glancing around in a daze.

Theo’s hand went to your heart. He had to check again. Just to make sure.

Still beating. Still real.

When your breathing evened out, slow and full, Theodore let himself fall back, his body collapsing next to you.

He let out a scream of agony at the idea of you dying, at the sight of finding your unmoving body just moments ago, each time he blinked, exhaustion, everything

“You scared the shit out of me,” he panted, rubbing his face.

You turned your head toward him.

“You scream like a girl.” Your sympathetic eyes meet his

He barked a what he could make of a laugh. It wasn’t pretty, but it was real. A sound that shouldn’t exist in a place like this, and yet here it was.

He wiped a hand down his face, smearing blood, trying to get a grip on himself, on you, on the fact that you were still here.

“I hate you,” he breathed, the kind of thing you only say to someone you love so much.

You think you laughed, too, or maybe it was just an exhale.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged weakly. “You weren’t fucking breathing.”

“I am now,” you whispered.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. The ruins of the battle echoed around you in silence.

And then

“Are they okay?” you asked. “The others — Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Mattheo, Lorenzo...?

He blinked. Looked around. “We all got separated. But I think I- I hope”

“Theo?”

It was Draco’s voice, his footsteps crunching under rubble.

Then Blaise.

Then Lorenzo’s wild laugh of relief.

Then Pansy sobbed. Mattheo’s yelling.

It was like fate was finally on your side there you all were, bloody, bruised, broken but fucking alive.

Everyone was talking at once, some yelling, some crying. You grabbed Pansy. Mattheo grabbed Theo. Blaise was hugging you even before you could protest.

Theo pulled you back into him, arms around your waist again. “We’re going home,” he murmured into your hair.

You blinked up

“We are home.”

“Look around, not anymore.”

You turned. “Then where?”

“My place,” he interrupted. “Ours, if you want.”

There was a long pause. Then he looked at the others.

"All of us" Theo stated. Pansy gave a low, agreeing nod

Draco scoffed, trying to mask the trembling in his hands. “Everyone will think we’re cowards for leaving.”

Mattheo spun on him. “We’re not running,” he snapped. “We’re surviving. Do you realise most of these people hate us? Hate our families?”

Silence.

No one argues.

They all know he’s right.

"They’ll look at our faces and see everything they lost. Everything they'll blame. You think they’ll thank us for bleeding beside them?” he continues

No one speaks.

“They’ll tolerate us. At best. And at worst?” Mattheo swallows hard. “They’ll destroy us, just like they wanted to destroy them.”

"We'll Apparate now, the house is hidden, it's not on records, it's perfect" Theo suggests

You all nod in agreement, holding out your hands, taking a deep breath, the air you could finally breathe was once again yours.

..........

Reblogs, comments, and likes are extremely appreciated. <3

ALSO THIS IS UNEDITED AND NOT REREAD SO IM TAKING A LEAP OF FAITH THAT IS MAKES SENSE ITS PAST 3AM AND I DONT HAVE THE ENEGRY TO READ IT BACK

all my love xx

B.

[look-who-s-inside-again]

stop this madness

‘All I wanted was for you to love me’- Mattheo Riddle Headcannons!! (Sad & Soft)

• He had known that he wanted to be with you since 3rd year. It has always been that way, and it always will. When he saw you for the first time sitting at the great hall, talking and laughing, he knew he was in love.

• He had a very low self esteem, causing him to bottle up his problems about himself and fall into an episode due to these thoughts he has about himself. He’ll doubt himself every waking moment- finding something wrong with him if you even seem slightly out of place.

• He’s always hates his natural, curly hair. Always wetting it in the morning and throughout the day, but one time when he was sick and wasn’t able to constantly wet his hair, you saw it for the first time and thought it was the cutest thing. Ever since that one day, he has fallen in love with his natural hair.

• He surprisingly likes it when you lightly trace his scars with your nails or fingers. He likes the feeling of your nails gently scratching at his bare back, feeling your fingers go over and touch his scars.

• Mattheo has already made up his mind, once he graduates, he is running away with you to start a new life, a new chapter. He wants to start a family with you, give you his last name, call you His, and you call him Yours.

• He’ll never say it out loud but, when he sometimes wakes up before you do, he likes to look at you and just realize how lucky he is. He is thankful that he has you- and he’ll remind you that every single day.

• His hugs are some of the greatest things out there. He likes to give full body, strong, long and warm hugs. There isn’t a small, quick hug when it comes to you. He’ll hold you and hold you, he never pulls away first. Not even after an argument.

A knock is what woke him up from his light slumber. Without you by his side during the night, he couldn’t sleep well, he would wake up every few minutes. All he could do was toss and turn before falling asleep again, but once he saw you standing at his dorm door with your eyes slightly pink from all the crying that you did, your lashes wet from your tears, and your cheeks and nose tinted pink, he knew everything was gonna be alright. You had ran into his arms, clinging onto him- clutching your hands to his shirt, holding onto it as if he would disappear if you didn’t. He just held onto you, wrapping one arm around the back of your neck, bringing your body closer, and using his other hand to rake his fingers though your hair. You knew you were gonna be just fine.

• Smells like oak wood and vanilla- if you really smell him closely, you can smell the cigarette brand that he smokes on his hoodie.

[look-who-s-inside-again]

MILDRED?????

[look-who-s-inside-again]

Got reminded again of my old coworker who was a massive misogynist but also trans inclusive. Told me he believed trans women are indeed women because "only women would be stupid enough to want to be women"

I wonder what he's doing now

[look-who-s-inside-again]

I’m so disgustingly obsessed with this series that it’s criminal…literally what a cute way for these two to start off!

Love a man who will only tolerate his gf helping him, because it isn’t condescending or insulting, it’s just a safe space to be wrong or different😭

I think about this series once a day fr, like I have headcanons for them (please sedate me). Like, the reader would for sure take him to rage rooms because she knows the psychological damage pent up anger can cause. She would for sure read up on quidditch rules she didn’t know before to be a supportive gf and then like bake the boys cookies when they win a match. If these two ever had to duel in class? Mattheo’s casting protego, at MOST, because yeah, no, his near perfect DADA marks can stand to suffer a little if that’s the alternative.

I just—

I stay thinking about them

His Soft Spot (Prologue) - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: A lovely anon asked how Mattheo and reader started out, so here is their backstory. I hope you enjoy!

-

You weren’t the type to fall for Slytherins.

As a Ravenclaw, you had your nose buried in dusty books, spent your weekends organizing enchanted study notes, and found comfort in the quiet hum of the library. You weren’t antisocial — in fact, many people found your presence captivating. You were kind, witty, effortlessly graceful in a way that made people pause.

But he was something else entirely.

Mattheo Riddle had a reputation that was even darker than the Black Lake. He was tall, sharp-jawed, dark-eyed danger personified. His smirk was the stuff of whispered dorm gossip. Son of Voldemort, future heir of the Dark Lord, some claimed — though no one dared say it to his face. Professors tolerated him because he was brilliant. Students tiptoed around him because he was terrifying.

But you? You didn’t seem impressed. And that’s what started it all.

———

Your first encounter happened during a shared O.W.L Potions class. You arrived early, as always, settling at your usual table with your notes already out and organized. The seat beside you was always vacant—no one dared sit there because you were known to correct your seat partner’s technique if they so much as stirred it clockwise instead of counter-clockwise.

But that day, Mattheo Riddle strolled in late, sleeves rolled, eyes heavy-lidded with arrogance—and dropped his bag right next to you.

You barely glanced at him.

“Just so you know,” you said without looking up, “you over-grind your lacewing flies. You’re destroying the compound.”

He raised a brow, amused. “That so?”

“I saw your Amortentia yesterday. Smelled like gunpowder and blood. Classic overgrind. Rookie mistake.”

He blinked.

Most girls would be fawning over him by now. But you had already gone back to annotating your textbook, like he was no more interesting than a cauldron manual.

It bothered him.

No one talked to him like that. Certainly no one corrected him. And definitely not someone as annoyingly beautiful as you.

He watched you out of the corner of his eye the entire lesson.

———

After that class, he started showing up wherever you were.

He’d pass behind your desk in the library and flick the ends of your parchment. He’d steal your quill and replace it with an obnoxiously large green feathered one. Sometimes he’d lean on the library shelves right where you were looking and say things like:

“Careful, love. You keep looking at me like that, and I’ll think you’re in love.”

You always rolled your eyes. “I’m trying to look past you.”

And yet… your heart beat just a little faster.

———

What he didn’t expect was that you saw him.

Not the version of himself that he projected: the Riddle name, the cold eyes, the untouchable snark. No — you saw when his hand trembled during Dueling Club. You saw how he lingered after class, sometimes staring at nothing. You noticed the circles under his eyes, the way his jaw clenched during mentions of “family.” You even caught him once in the library — reading Muggle poetry. Hidden inside a copy of Magical Theory and Practice, but still. Poetry.

“Byron?” you’d asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

He’d gone completely still.

“I won’t tell,” you promised, voice gentle. “I like Byron too.”

That was the moment. You felt it — a shift. A hesitation. A choice.

Instead of walking away, he stayed. Instead of shutting you out, he let the conversation continue.

“You always like the broken ones?” he’d asked that day, tone teasing but eyes dark with something real.

You shrugged. “Only the ones who try to rebuild.”

———

Weeks passed.

You became… a thing. No official labels. No public declarations. But you knew. Everyone knew. If someone even looked at you sideways in the corridor, Mattheo was there—silent, glaring, dangerous.

He never held your hand in the open. But he waited for you outside the library. He’d leave you enchanted paper cranes with notes like:

“Stop looking so pretty when I’m trying to focus in class. – M.”

He once punched a fourth-year Slytherin for calling you a “bookish tease.” You didn’t ask him to. He didn’t tell you he did. You just knew.

Then came the Astronomy Tower incident.

It was late. You’d both been working on your projects, and for once, you were exhausted. You leaned your head against his shoulder — and instead of pulling away or making a joke, he let you rest there.

And then, quietly, he whispered:

“I don’t like anyone. You know that, right?”

You nodded sleepily. “I know.”

“But I like you.”

You smiled, eyes still closed. “I know.”

———

You didn’t need a dramatic kiss or a grand gesture. You didn’t even need him to ask. It happened naturally — one day, he reached for your hand in the corridor, not caring who saw. The whispers spread like Fiendfyre.

“Ravenclaw girl? Mattheo Riddle’s girlfriend?”

But no one dared say a word to your face.

Because Mattheo wasn’t the cold-hearted monster they thought. Not with you.

He carried your bag when you hurt your wrist in Charms. He memorized your favorite tea order. He’d pull you onto his lap during study nights in the Slytherin common room and press kisses to your temple when no one was watching.

You got away with everything.

Once, you fell asleep in the restricted section of the library after a long night of research. Instead of waking you, Mattheo sat beside you for three hours, hexed anyone who came too close, and carried you back to your dorm when dawn broke.

Professor Snape caught him once and said, “Mr. Riddle, you know you’re not allowed in Ravenclaw Tower.”

To which Mattheo simply smirked and replied, “Then I suggest you give her a passcode to my room instead.”

———

Now?

He still scares people.

Still has that coiled, dark energy that promises ruin to anyone who crosses him.

But with you?

He softens. He folds. You’re the only one who can touch his heart without getting burned.

And he still can’t believe it.

Every time you sit in his lap, cup his jaw with your gentle hands, or tell him he’s not like his father — you remind him that maybe, just maybe, he’s worthy of something good.

And you?

You never expected to fall for the most dangerous boy in Hogwarts.

But here you are — adored, protected, chosen.

By Mattheo Riddle.

Taglist: @hisonlyobsession

[look-who-s-inside-again]

Sinners (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler