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lov3rsrck · 9 days ago

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COWBOY LIKE ME |

Chapter five: A Study In Jealousy

Mattheo Riddle × Hufflepuff!OC

Series trope: Fake Dating

Chapter Five summary: Mattheo experiences some unexpected feelings when he finds Cordelia talking to Cedric Diggory.

Warnings: some fluff, friendship/relationship building, inappropriate comment

Author's note: a longer chapter for yall! Sorry I haven't posted in so long, I've been flooded with work

Enjoy reading and feel free to give me helpful criticism :)

Overall masterlist | series masterlist | chapter six (coming soon)

THE COURTYARD WAS soaked in golden light, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the stone flagstones. Laughter echoed through the open space, drifting lazily from groups of students sprawled across benches or sun-warmed steps. It was all very picturesque.

Mattheo hated it.

He sat slouched on the fountain’s edge beside Draco and Pansy, arms folded, jaw clenched. They were mid-conversation about something inconsequential—Quidditch rankings, he thought—but he wasn’t listening.

His attention was elsewhere.

Across the courtyard, Cedric Diggory stood with her. Cordelia. Her hair shined golden brown in the sun, and she tilted her head with that infuriatingly curious expression, the one she always wore when she was pretending to be charmed. Cedric was smiling—of course he was—and leaning just a little too close for Mattheo’s liking.

Not that he cared, obviously. He was just observing. There were rules to this whole fake dating arrangement. Appearances to keep up. Boundaries to enforce.

It wouldn’t exactly sell the illusion if his “girlfriend” looked like she was five seconds from blushing at some golden boy with a tragic hero complex and a bottle of broom polish permanently fused to his skin.

“Diggory’s sniffing around your girl,” Pansy said casually, not even looking up.

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you say?”

Pansy glanced over at Cedric and Cordelia, then back at him, her lips twitching. “He seems interested in... what’s her name again? Cora?”

“It’s Cordelia,” Mattheo muttered. “And he’s not interested. They’re just in the same house.”

Cordelia tilted her head again, smiling at something Cedric said. It wasn’t flirtatious, not really—but it was friendly. Comfortable. That somehow made it worse.

Mattheo shifted, jaw tight. It’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? He didn’t care. He never cared.

Before he could fully convince himself, Cordelia glanced over, caught his eye, and started walking toward him and the others.

Her pace was unhurried, but deliberate. There was a faint smile on her lips—one that still hadn’t faded from whatever Cedric had said. Mattheo’s mood dropped a few notches lower.

“Hi,” she said lightly, stopping in front of him. “Ready to go?”

“Can’t wait.”

Pansy gave a very obvious, very theatrical scoff behind them.

They walked side by side down the corridor, their footsteps echoing faintly in the cool stone hallway. The silence between them was familiar, but heavier now—thicker with something unspoken.

Mattheo broke it first. “So…what’d Diggory want?”

Cordelia didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “The letter.”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Right.”

“He wanted to know if it was recent,” she said, brushing hair behind her ear. “If I still meant it.”

Mattheo’s voice was flat. “And?”

“I told him Hermione sent it without asking. Which… he didn’t believe at first.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well—it did sound a little desperate.”

She shot him a look. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered. “Just… a little unbelievable. That’s all.”

Cordelia looked ahead again, her voice lower now. “I wrote it when I was fourteen. I thought he was perfect. Turns out he's just…a boy.” She said it like it was an insult. “I don’t feel that way anymore. Haven’t in a long time.”

They turned a corner. The library came into view, its doors looming like a sanctuary. Students drifted past them, quiet and blurred, but Cordelia and Mattheo moved in their own insulated world.

She glanced sideways. “You’re not weird about it, are you? Your letter?”

Mattheo shrugged. “If I was, I probably wouldn’t be walking next to you right now.”

Cordelia studied him for a moment too long, then pushed open the library doors and stepped inside like nothing had happened.

They took their usual spot near the back—hidden from view, near the tall windows. Cordelia unpacked her materials with clockwork precision: parchment, books, quills. Everything in its proper place.

Mattheo didn’t even open his book. He was doodling aimlessly, head resting on one arm.

Cordelia peered at the drawing. “Mattheo, you’re supposed to be studying.”

He didn’t look up. “I am. It’s the anatomy of a dragon. See? Wings.”

She leaned closer, squinting. “...That’s a potato with legs.”

Mattheo gasped. “You wound me Del. This is fine art.”

“What did I say about nicknames?”

He leaned back in his chair, tipping dangerously. “It’s either that or a pet name. Pick your poison.”

Cordelia groaned, but her smile gave her away. “Will you focus if I bribe you with candy?”

He perked up. “Depends on the selection.”

She sighed, but answered anyway, “Front pocket.”

He reached into the bag without hesitation, fingers brushing against hers. Neither of them said anything about it. He pulled out a bag of gummy frogs and nudged her purse aside.

“Oh,” he added casually, digging into his pocket. “I have something for you.”

Cordelia looked up. He held out a green and black scarf, the number 7 embroidered neatly near the end.

“For the game tonight.”

She blinked. “What…do I do with it?”

“You wear it. Obviously. Gotta sell the illusion.”

Cordelia raised an eyebrow, but took the scarf anyway, running her fingers over the embroidery.

“Our deal was that I attend the game. Not that I become your personal cheerleader.”

Mattheo clutched his chest in mock agony. “You insult me. This is exclusive fan merch. Priceless.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t give it back.

THE STADIUM BUZZED with energy. The scent of buttered popcorn and damp grass filled the air. Cordelia sat high in the stands, the scarf wrapped snugly around her neck.

A shadow passed over her seat.

“You look like you might freeze,” said a familiar voice.

Cedric Diggory slid into the space beside her, scarf askew, hair blowing from the wind.

“I’m fine,” Cordelia replied flatly. “Just watching the game.”

Cedric gave her a charming grin. “Enjoying it?”

She forced a polite smile. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

He leaned closer. “You know, I was serious. About what I said this morning.”

Cordelia turned her head slowly. “You said a lot of things earlier, Cedric…”

“I meant the part about liking the letter.” He dropped his voice, suddenly more intense. “That kind of thing—doesn’t just come from nowhere.”

“Cedric, I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah. You wrote it years ago. I’m just saying…” His voice dropped lower. “I wouldn’t complain if you still felt that way.”

Cordelia’s fingers clenched at the edge of Mattheo’s scarf. “Cedric, I’m… dating someone.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Riddle? Didn’t peg you for the brooding type. Then again… maybe you’ve got a thing for dark and dangerous.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Don’t.”

He smirked, leaning in. “Still, I bet he doesn’t make you laugh like I could. Or… well… other things.”

Cordelia blinked. “Excuse me?”

Cedric chuckled like it was a compliment. “Come on, Cordelia. You never wondered? All those years of crushing—you must’ve thought about it at least once.”

She stood abruptly, voice flat. “You know what? I think I’ll catch the rest of the game somewhere else.”

He blinked. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

But she was already gone, descending the stone steps two at a time, leaving the roar of the crowd behind.

She rounded a corner, nearly colliding with a figure in black and green robes.

“Watch it!” snapped the voice.

Cordelia stepped back. “Pansy?”

Pansy looked startled, then narrowed her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold.

“You alright?” Pansy asked, her voice oddly careful.

Cordelia blinked. “I’m fine.” Then, stiffly, “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Pansy snapped. Then sighed. “Well. Maybe I do. You look... off.”

Cordelia hesitated, glancing back toward the stadium. “Just… someone said something. It was gross. Not a big deal.”

Pansy tilted her head. “Who?”

Cordelia waved it off. “Cedric.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Figures. Hufflepuffs get away with everything just because they smile a lot.”

Cordelia let out a breath. “It’s fine. He’s not important.”

Pansy hesitated, then said, quieter, “Look… any friend of Mattheo’s is a friend of mine.”

Cordelia blinked. “Since when?”

“Since now,” Pansy said coolly. “I’m just saying… if you need help—or backup—I’m not completely useless.”

Cordelia gave her a long look, surprised.

Pansy added, softly now, “Mattheo doesn’t have a lot of people. And the ones who don’t like him? They’d use anything to get under his skin. Including you.”

Cordelia frowned. “You think Cedric—”

“I think you should just be careful.”

With that, Pansy turned on her heel and swept away, robes trailing dramatically behind her.

Cordelia stayed near the bottom of the field, half-hidden in the thinning crowd as the cheers carried across the pitch. She barely heard them. Her mind felt foggy, tangled with Pansy’s warning and Cedric’s words, until the final whistle finally blew.

Students began spilling toward the castle, voices bright with victory or heavy with complaint. Cordelia lingered, hugging her arms to her chest, waiting. The Slytherin team disappeared into the locker rooms, and minutes later they emerged again—laughing, shouting, still buzzing with the rush of the match.

Mattheo came last, broom slung over his shoulder, hair damp and mussed. His eyes swept the crowd until they landed on her. The grin he’d been wearing faded just slightly, replaced with something quieter as he stepped closer.

“Hey, Del.” His voice was warm, even as his gaze searched her face. “You look like you’ve been standing out here all day.”

Cordelia tried for a smile. “I was waiting.”

He tilted his head, a hint of concern flickering across his features, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nudged her arm lightly with his broom. “Brave of you to endure a Quidditch crowd just for me. That’s practically a love declaration.”

Her laugh came soft, almost reluctant, but it loosened some of the weight pressing on her chest. “Don’t get used to it.”

Mattheo smirked, falling into step beside her as they started toward the castle. The night air was cool, filled with the distant chatter of students heading in the same direction. He kept the conversation easy—teasing about the match, mocking his teammates’ dramatics, throwing in just enough ridiculous detail to coax a few more smiles out of her.

Cordelia listened, grateful for the way he didn’t demand an explanation, grateful for the steady calm of his presence.

When they reached the barrel-guarded entrance to the Hufflepuff dorms, Mattheo slowed.

“Well,” he said, shifting his broom from one shoulder to the other, “I’d say this is where I leave you. Unless you’re going to sneak me in, which I don’t recommend—your lot would probably hex me on sight.”

Cordelia shook her head, smiling despite herself. “They probably would.”

His eyes lingered on her a beat longer, softer now. “Get some rest, yeah?”

“I will.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “Thanks for walking me back.”

“Anytime.” Mattheo gave her a lopsided grin, turning to head toward his own common room. “Don’t miss me too much.”

She watched him go until he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, and only then slipped inside, heart still tangled but just a little lighter.

MATTHEO SLIPPED INTO the Slytherin common room, still damp from the shower, broom over his shoulder. The firelight was low and golden, throwing the familiar faces of Blaise, Draco, and Pansy into sharp relief. They were gathered on the couches like they always were, lounging as though they owned the place.

“Ah, our victorious Seeker returns,” Blaise drawled dramatically.

Mattheo gave him a half-smile and dropped his broom against the wall. He was about to head straight for the dorms when Pansy’s voice cut through.

“You know,” Pansy said, tapping one manicured nail against the armrest, “your little Hufflepuff might be growing on me.”

Mattheo stopped mid-step toward the dorms, turning just enough to eye her. “That so?” His voice was lazy, but his chest tightened. “Funny. You weren’t exactly singing her praises this morning.”

Pansy’s lips curled into a smug little smile. “Things change.”

Mattheo tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”

For a moment, Pansy only watched him, clearly enjoying the attention. Then she shrugged, as though it were hardly worth mentioning. “Oh, nothing really. Just… she’s had a rough day. And I suppose I respect the way she’s handling it. Even managed to keep her chin up after what she told me about Cedric.”

It was a throwaway comment, delivered lightly, but it landed in Mattheo’s chest like a punch.

“Cedric?” His voice betrayed nothing, but his knuckles tightened against the broom handle.

Pansy smirked, already turning her attention back to Draco. “Relax, Riddle. I’m not about to spill the poor girl’s secrets. You’ll have to ask her yourself—assuming she trusts you enough to tell you.”

Blaise chuckled under his breath, and Draco gave Mattheo a knowing look, but Mattheo forced himself to move, to stride toward the stairs as though none of it mattered.

Only when he was alone in his dorm, sitting on the edge of his bed with the firelight from the common room gone, did he let his mask slip. His jaw ached from how tightly he’d been clenching it.

Cordelia. Cedric. What the hell happened today?

| chapter 4 |

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lov3rsrck · 1 month ago

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you know what? hell yeah pinterest

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lov3rsrck · 2 months ago

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lov3rsrck · 2 months ago

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Please donate and or share to peters go fund me . Peter is a ten year old medically complex terminal little boy. He has previously been on a make a wish holiday with his family to florida were he got to stay in give kids the world . His mother is desperately fundraising to take him back to florida to see his star he got given when he stayed at five kids the world as he is getting worse every single day and nothing is making him better. His poor mother desperately wants to do this one last thing with him before his illness takes a turn for the worse

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lov3rsrck · 3 months ago

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FUCK DONALD TRUMP

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lov3rsrck · 5 months ago

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Help a Family in Need💔

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lov3rsrck · 5 months ago

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COWBOY LIKE ME |

Chapter four: Valentine’s Day

Mattheo Riddle × Hufflepuff!OC

Series trope: Fake Dating

Chapter three summary: Cordelia and Mattheo’s “relationship” is debuted when Mattheo asks her out in front of the whole school

Warnings: some fluff, friendship/relationship building

Author's note: chapter four is here! This was supposed to be out in time for Valentine’s Day, but I got really behind with writing

Enjoy reading and feel free to give me helpful criticism :)

Overall masterlist | series masterlist | chapter five

THE HALLWAYS BUZZED with excitement as Valentine's Day drew near. But Cordelia couldn’t relate to the giddy energy of her classmates. Her mind was elsewhere—specifically on Mattheo. He had been maddeningly vague yesterday about something he had planned for today, and Cordelia was determined to uncover it before he had the chance to spring it on her.

She hurried down the corridor, spotting Mattheo leaning casually against the wall beside Draco. Without slowing down, she marched up and cleared her throat to get his attention.

“Mattheo, we need to talk.”

Draco raised a curious brow, but Mattheo just waved him off and stepped aside with Cordelia.

“You need to tell me,” she demanded.

“Tell you what?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m talking about.” Cordelia crossed her arms, trying to appear stern. Mattheo only laughed.

“Relax. You don’t need to worry. Just... go with it when it happens.”

He turned to follow Draco, who had already started walking away, but Cordelia reached out and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him back around.

“That’s not how this works. We agreed—no surprises when it comes to anything related to our deal.”

Mattheo sighed. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell you what I’m planning... next time. Just not this one.”

“Mattheo,” she said, warning laced in her tone. He shrugged and slowly backed away.

“You’ll survive not knowing for once, I promise,” he said, flashing a grin before turning and disappearing down the hall with Draco.

Cordelia stood frozen, eyes wide as he walked away. “Mattheo!” she shouted, but didn’t move to follow him.

She always knew what was coming. Always. Whether it was paranoia or just her need for control, Cordelia relied on having a plan—a mental schedule that kept her world in order. And Mattheo keeping secrets? That threw everything off. Completely.

THE GREAT HALL was alive with chatter as lunchtime neared, students eagerly talking about their plans. Cordelia sat at the Hufflepuff table, tuning in to a conversation between two girls nearby discussing Valentine's Day. It had been the main topic of conversation all week, especially with the holiday looming the next day.

Cordelia couldn't help but feel a twinge of longing as she listened. She wished she had a date for Valentine's Day, but given her current situation—between the letters and her deal with Mattheo—she knew it was probably best to stay single.

Just then, as if someone had heard her thoughts, Cordelia felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Mattheo standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers. She raised an eyebrow, silently questioning his strange gesture.

He smiled at her and extended the flowers. "What are you doing?" Cordelia whispered, hesitantly taking them from him.

Mattheo met her gaze, his voice steady. "Cordelia Blythe, would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?" His glance shifted around, and Cordelia quickly realized this was part of their arrangement, judging by the curious looks of the surrounding students.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but after a brief moment of stunned silence, she nodded. "Uh, yeah. Yes, okay."

All eyes were on her the moment she said yes to a date with Mattheo Riddle. The Mattheo Riddle.

Cordelia stared down at the bouquet of daffodils in her hands—her favorite, bright and sunshiny, in sharp contrast to the chaos swirling in her head. Somehow, it had just become official: she and Mattheo were now fake dating.

Up until now, their interactions were limited to the occasional hallway conversation—casual, harmless. But now? Everyone in the Great Hall had witnessed Mattheo ask her out, loud and clear.

Heart thudding, Cordelia slipped out of the Great Hall, avoiding the curious stares of her fellow Hufflepuffs. She couldn't deal with the whispers, the looks, the speculation.

She needed to talk to someone. Anyone. Because whatever this was with Mattheo—it was already spinning out of her control and it had just started.

That’s how she ended up sprawled out on the floor of Hermione’s dorm, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it might hold some answers.

“SO…IT WASN’T REAL?” Hermione asked from her bed, propped up against a stack of pillows.

Cordelia nodded slowly. “I mean, I knew it was real, but it didn’t feel real until now. And now that everyone’s seen it—it’s too late to back out.”

Hermione tilted her head. “So why not just… lean into it?”

Cordelia sat up, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Think about it,” Hermione said with a small shrug. “He gave you flowers, which are your favorite by the way, and he’s taking you on a date tomorrow. Why not enjoy it a little?”

Cordelia stared at her. “Enjoy it?”

Hermione shot her a look—half teasing, half serious. “Yeah. You basically get all the perks of having a boyfriend without the emotional chaos. That’s kind of a win, isn’t it?”

Cordelia flopped back down on the floor as she thought about what Hermione was telling her.

THE NEXT EVENING, Cordelia stood in the middle of Hermione’s dorm room, arms folded, a deep scowl on her face.

“This is stupid,” she muttered, eyeing the small pile of clothes Hermione had pulled out with something close to contempt. “It’s not even a real date.”

Hermione, on her knees in front of the trunk, didn’t even look up. “Fake or not, you're still going. And you’re going to look like you belong on the cover of Witch Weekly, so stop pouting.”

Cordelia flopped dramatically onto the edge of the bed, sighing into the ceiling. “But why? Why am I putting in this much effort for something that’s not real?”

Hermione finally turned to her, holding up a soft, cream-colored sweater with delicate stitching along the sleeves. “Because whether or not it’s real, people will see you. And more importantly—he will see you.”

Cordelia made a face. “It’s Mattheo. I couldn't care less if he saw me in a hoodie and fuzzy socks.”

“Yes, and yet he still gave you daffodils and asked you to Hogsmeade,” Hermione said, setting the sweater aside and pulling out a pleated skirt. “Which, by the way, is more effort than most boys put into real dates.”

Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Hermione grinned. “Maybe a little.”

With a resigned sigh, Cordelia slid off the bed and wandered toward the makeshift pile of options. “Okay, fine. But nothing too over-the-top. I don’t want him thinking I’m... I don’t know, trying.”

“Oh, of course not,” Hermione said, handing her the sweater and skirt combo. “We’ll go for effortless beauty. Casual charm. Like you just happened to look incredible without lifting a finger.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes but took the outfit anyway, holding it up in front of the mirror. It was cute—simple, but flattering. Soft. Safe. Not too much, not too little. Kind of... her.

“Alright,” she said under her breath. “Effortless beauty it is.”

Hermione smirked as she returned to rummaging. “And maybe—just maybe—you’ll have a little fun tomorrow.”

Cordelia gave her a look. “Don’t push it.”

But she didn’t argue.

THE AIR IN Hogsmeade was crisp, filled with the scent of butterbeer and the chatter of other students buzzing around in pairs and groups. Cordelia tugged her sleeves over her hands as she walked beside Mattheo, the hem of her skirt brushing her knees.

“So…” he said, glancing sideways at her. “You clean up alright, Hufflepuff.”

Cordelia gave him a look. “You asked me out, remember?”

“Fake asked,” he reminded, flashing her a grin. “Big difference.”

“Right,” she said, hugging her arms around herself. “Just two fake-dating people on a fake date, dressed like they actually care.”

Mattheo chuckled under his breath. “You do look like you care.”

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Are you fishing for a compliment?”

“Never,” he said, but the smirk on his face said otherwise.

They strolled down the cobbled path in silence for a moment, neither quite sure where to take the conversation next. Cordelia wasn’t used to being alone with Mattheo—not for this long, at least. He was always just… background noise in the halls. Attractive, chaotic background noise.

“You don’t talk much when it’s not about rules or schedule changes,” Mattheo finally said, glancing over again.She hesitated, then shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

Mattheo nodded, then added casually, “You can always hold my hand. Sell the illusion.”

Cordelia blinked at him. “I think we’ve sold enough for today.”

He just smirked. “Suit yourself.”

But he didn’t push it. Just walked beside her in the falling light, not too close, not too far. And even though it wasn’t real—not really—Cordelia felt her shoulders loosen for the first time all day.

Maybe this fake thing wouldn’t be so terrible after all. “I wasn’t sure you even knew how to go on a date.”

Cordelia scoffed. “I read a book about it.”

He burst out laughing. “Of course you did.”

They ended up at Honeydukes, mostly because it felt safe. Public. No pressure. Cordelia grabbed a handful of her favorite lemon sherbets while Mattheo hovered near the chocolate frogs, flipping one over to check the card inside.

“Let me guess,” she said, appearing beside him. “You’re hoping for the card with the dark wizard they had to pull from circulation.”

“You act like I am the dark wizard,” he replied without missing a beat.

She gave him a knowing look. “You wish you had that kind of mystique.”

He grinned at her, and for a moment, Cordelia forgot this wasn’t supposed to be real. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled—that was annoyingly genuine.

“You want anything else?” he asked, nodding toward the counter. “You’re not one of those ‘I'll just have a sip of yours’ kind of dates, right?”

Cordelia tilted her head. “We’re not really dating, so I’m not obligated to pretend I’m not ordering three things and eating them all myself.”

Mattheo held a hand to his chest, mock impressed. “That’s the spirit. Terrifying and beautiful.”

They left Honeydukes with too many bags and not enough shame. As they walked back toward the carriages, Cordelia noticed people glancing their way—some surprised, some whispering. It made her stomach twist.

He must have noticed too, because he leaned down slightly and said under his breath, “You okay with the attention?”

She hesitated, then shrugged, “I’ll survive.”

Mattheo nodded, then added casually, “You can always hold my hand. Sell the illusion.”

Cordelia blinked at him. “I think we’ve sold enough for today.”

He just smirked. “Suit yourself.”

Maybe this fake dating thing wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

| Chapter 3 |

#fanfiction #harry potter #story #writing #fanfic #for you #hogwarts fanfiction #hogwarts oc #hogwarts houses #imagines #mattheo riddle x oc #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle

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lov3rsrck · 6 months ago

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COWBOY LIKE ME |

Chapter three: Quidditch Chaos

Mattheo Riddle × Hufflepuff!OC

Series trope: Fake Dating

Chapter three summary: Cordelia should’ve known things were going to get awkward when she causes drama and confrontation at the quidditch game.

Warnings: bullying(?)

Author's note: Finally writing another chapter for this! Sorry it's been taking so long, idk if anyones reading this anyways :(

Enjoy reading and feel free to give me helpful criticism :)

Overall masterlist | series masterlist | chapter four (coming soon)

THREE LETTERS. THATS how many Cordelia wrote. She stood in line, waiting to get into the stands as she racked her brain. Who else did she write a letter to?

She knew Mattheo obviously got one, and she had seen Cedric's letter in his hand. But who else did she have a crush on?

The line slowly withered down, merging into small groups of students. She searched them for Hermione, and when she finally laid eyes on her, she laid eyes on someone else, too. Someone who was walking right towards her. That's when she remembered.

Back in second year, Cordelia, like most of the other girls at Hogwarts, had a crush on the one and only Harry Potter. He was the chosen one, who wouldn’t like him?

Of course, Cordelia’s crush ran much deeper than the other girls (all of her crushes did, hence the sappy love letters)

It didn’t last long, but Harry Potter was her first crush, meaning his letter was the oldest and the weirdest out of all of them. If any of those letters should’ve been burned, it would have been that one.

Harry was pushing his way through the other members of his quidditch team, headed straight for cordelia. And she now knew exactly why.

She could not deal with this right now. It was too embarrassing, too weird. Harry had become one of her best friends, not to mention he was basically dating Ginny weasley. So a love letter from second year? Nightmare fuel.

Cordelia made a beeline for the bathroom.

She pushed open the door, breathing out when she found it empty. She went into the first stall she saw, throwing herself down onto the toilet. She took a few deep breaths, holding her head in her hands. How was she going to get out of this? Her last two years at Hogwarts were going to be ruined. Everyones gonna think she's some kind of stalker.

As Cordelia harbored a minor panic attack in the stall, the bathroom door swung open, and she heard a group of girls walk in. her head shot up as one of them entered the stall next to hers. She didn't recognize the voices, so she assumed they were upperclassmen.

“Did you see those letters?” The girl in the stall asked.

Cordelia’s heart stopped. No no, please no.

“What letters?”

“Those love letters…you really haven't heard about them?” The toilet flushed, and she stepped out of the stall.

“That girl,” Cordelia held her breath, trying to be silent as she listened in.

“I think her name was camila? No wait, it's Caroline!”

“You idiot! Her name is Cordelia. That weird girl from hufflepuff.”

Cordelia wanted to flush herself down the toilet. She wanted to sink into it and drown forever. She knew the letter was weird, but she never expected Cedric to spread it around for anyone to see. How many other people have read it?

“Whatever,” Cordelia could practically hear the eye roll in the girl’s voice, and she swallowed the lump in her throat as they talked.

“What was she even trying to do with that letter? Did she think it’d get his attention or something?” There was a collective laughter, and the water from the sink stopped running. The voices soon trailed off as they walked out of the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind them.

Cordelia peaked her head out, and when she noticed that the coast was clear, she exited the stall. It was official, her reputation would be totally ruined. By the next morning, everyone would be talking about her and her dumb letters.

Cordelia pushed open the bathroom door, but when she walked right into someone.

No, not just anyone, it was Harry who she walked into.

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, as she choked out his name.

“Can we talk?” He asked. She couldn't find the right words to answer him. She was good friends with Harry, and now she could say goodbye to that.

“Look, Hermione already told me about what happened, im–im not weirded out or anything, i just thought maybe you wanted to talk about it?” He explained.

“You’re not?” He shook his head.

“Look, it was back in second year, I mean, we weren't even friends yet at this point. It didn't mean anything now, I was so young back then.” The two of them began to walk as Cordelia spoke.

“Did you read all of it?” She cringed inside as she thought about what might possibly be written in the letter.

He let out a light laugh, “I stopped after you said that I was the best thing to ever happen at Hogwarts.”

“Oh my god,” Cordelia ran a hand over her face, thoroughly embarrassed by her younger self.

“I wish I could just burn these stupid things.” The comment was more for herself, but Harry heard it nonetheless.

His hand extended out to her, the letter held between his fingers, “here, take it.”

She looked at Harry, stunned.

“Really?”

He nodded. “It’s your letter, you should have it back.”

Cordelia took the letter from Harry’s hand, stuffing it in her pocket, “Thank you.”

“So we’re good?” She asked. Harry nodded again. Cordelia let out a breath of relief, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

overall masterlist | series masterlist | chapter two

#fanfiction #harry potter #story #writing #fanfic #mattheo riddle x oc #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle

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lov3rsrck · 6 months ago

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New chapter coming soon!

#fanfiction #harry potter #story #writing #fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle #mattheo fluff #mattheo riddle x oc

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lov3rsrck · 8 months ago

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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ the way i loved you | harry potter

₊ ⊹ summary: after the tri-wizard tournament, you really don't think your best friend, harry, could've possibly survived it. but he always amazes you—especially after your little reunion, when harry realizes he really doesn't waste any time anymore.

₊ ⊹ warnings: best friends to lovers, first times but not sex, kissing, dry humping, mutual pining, getting caught after but not during, readers not a gryffindor but it's not even a plot point so don't worry

₊ ⊹ a/n: first fic kinda nervy... not proofread it's 3:25 am sorry but i'm barely posting this i kinda hate it like a lot

"...Has anyone seen Harry?" You find yourself saying as you try and apologize your way through the crowds of people in the area, finally landing eyes on Ron and Hermione.

Surely they'd know. And know they did, as Hermione turns to you and says, "Harry's still in there. Haven't gotten eyes on them though."

God, you're sure your heart was nearly beating out of its chest, and it didn't help that you were heating up just from running around in the middle of June in the swarming heat.

Hermione's hand on your back is all you can focus on as you try to convince yourself Harry Potter is not dead. He couldn't be. Injured, at most—

"Y/N?" You hear your name, and by god you've never felt more relief in your life over your name.

The familiar sight of round glasses askew and messy brown hair grounds you as you rush past Hermione and Ron admittedly quickly before halting at the sight—Cedric Diggory unmoving beside him.

"By god, tell me that's your blood on your face." You breathe out, a bit frazzled at the situation, moving to kneel beside him, thumb moving to wipe the deeply wounded scratch on his jaw.

He nods, and at your relief, he snickers, "never took you to be relieved over me being wounded."

"You know what I mean, god, you're so stupid—" your first instinct is to scold, to tell him he shouldn't have gotten hurt. That he shouldn't have been so reckless.

That he shouldn't have given you such a scare.

"Shh, shh," he sighs, still a bit breathless from it all, "save that for later when I'm not so... Winded."

Letting out a defeated sigh in return, you apologize, "I'm sorry. You just really fucking scared us, y'know that? God, I thought you'd died—" you pull him into a tight, desperate hug.

He just takes the hug, the warm touches, greeting Hermione and Ron as they make their way up to the scene as well, particularly engrossed in the solemn sight of the boy unconscious feet away.

Dumbledore finally makes his way up, students naturally clearing a path as he treads up the steps to the scene as well, face unreadable.

"Harry, you best... Clean yourself up, visit the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey can handle those for you, surely." Dumbledore proposes, more of an order than an offer, to which Harry complies with a subtle nod.

Leaning on you for support, he slowly but surely gets up, the other two allowing you to handle it. Hermione's soft nudge as you walk past them tells you all you need to know, really. She's in on it.

Hermione's always been the one to go to for anything, really. As much as she's enveloped in her studies, she seems to be a good multitasker in the sense she'll retain any information you give her as she's studying.

That's how your late night rambles began in your dorm, in the library, all of it. You talking about classes, family, boys, you name it—she knew.

As the Yule Ball approached that year, you'd began the talk of boys, and she was surprisingly interested. Talking about her own interests, particularly of Ron, though. How he treated her like some last choice...

And you, with your best friend, Harry. Though, you two went as friends, it felt particularly good having a multitude of people not know that. Thinking you two were one anothers dates. Especially during The Champions Waltz.

Either way, ever since then, Hermione knew when to leave you two to your endeavors, and to make Ron mind his business.

So when Ron seems to start to follow down the path after you and Harry, it's no surprise Hermione moves to grip his wrist gently to stop him.

"You're easily gonna need some kind of cast, unless you're trying to drink that god-awful bone growth potion again." Your arm is holding him up gently, and the touch has your stomach in knots.

"Don't even remind me, I'll never stop tasting that." He groans, leaning further into you, glancing over and up at you, "say, was Cedric... Was he alright?"

"I don't know." You admit, "I bet he'll be in the infirmary sooner or later. Surely."

Harry takes that as an answer, thankfully, and you two finally make your way into the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey front and center as she ushers Harry in and to one of the many open beds.

It's a while that you two are sat waiting as Madam Pomfrey puts random disinfectant items and healing gels on his wounds before sighing and wrapping up her procedure by wrapping a piece of cloth around his neck to alleviate some stress on his arm, slouching it like a makeshift sling.

"Well, dearie, there's not much else I can do. Magic can't heal it any further. Keep this on as much as you can, alright? Now head up to your dorm, I bet you'll be seeing a visit from Dumbledore soon." She rambles, "now go on."

It's a lot of information, but Harry nods, adjusting to the feeling of it elevated before moving to get off the bed, walking fine now, thankfully.

"Can we go to the dorms now?" Harry asks, looking over at you as you two walk out of the hospital wing.

"The Gryffindor dorms? I can take you, yeah." You reply, not quite taking it as an invitation, but rather a request.

"No, no, with me." He shakes his head, "please?"

It's weird, hearing him nearly plead, but quite frankly you aren't against it one bit.

"Why? And, well, there's no way your roommates aren't in there too." Your eyebrows furrow, confused by the proposition despite wanting to agree without a worry in the world.

"They wouldn't tell, if they're even there." Harry shakes his head, "I just... Don't really wanna be alone after all that."

You can't say no to that. And it's true, Ron, Dean, Seamus, or Neville would never tell a single soul.

It's a long walk up the dizzyingly confusing, moving stairs you can never quite get an understanding for, and down corridors you swear weren't there before. Surely enough, you find yourselves in front of the portrait of The Fat Lady, who lights up at the sight of a new face.

"Oh, who in the world is this now, Harry Potter? A girl from another house?" She nearly scolds.

"Balderdash," Harry tries to ignore her words that'll without a doubt sprout into a lesson.

"Harry Potter!" The portrait attempts to scold him for a second time.

"I know. Balderdash." He repeats, prompting the portrait to swing open, as he hears her continue while he brings you inside until you're in the Gryffindor common room.

"It's awfully quiet." You hum, "and... Empty."

"Maybe they all went back to classes for today." Harry sighs, readjusting his sling, "I'll show you to our years dorm." He changes the subject.

You comply easily, trailing behind him across the room to find a staircase, many offshoots, but you don't get a chance to look too much before he's opening the room to reveal five beds, each with a respective end table and chest, appropriately decorated and left lived in by the others before he finds his own and lies down with a small groan.

Stood a bit hesitantly in the entrance, you take in the empty room, before glancing back at Harry to see him gesturing for you to come over.

You move to sit beside him on the bed, despite the tight fit. He finally speaks up.

"Y'know how you said you thought I died?" He sighs, reminding you of your earlier words.

You don't understand it's importance, but nod.

"Well, for what it's worth, I thought I did too." His messy brown hair splays against the pillow as he lies his head down finally to get comfortable, "and it was... Kind of terrifying. And I've fought a basilisk." He lightens the mood. Or, tries to.

"Yeah?" The low hum of your voice fills the room, nodding as you listen, wondering where this is going.

"I kinda just..." He shifts in the bed, ending up a little closer than before to you, "I didn't realize people were serious when they said your life flashes before your eyes."

That seems to have your heart growing heavy.

"It was that bad? What even happened?" You ask, before realizing... Maybe that's not the best question right now, "er... Just, it was that bad?"

"It was like... I realized how much stuff I regretted not doing. And like... I could die at any time. It was really weird." Harry rambles, "like, there's so many things I realized I should be doing and haven't."

"Like what?" You hum, glancing back over at him despite him looking right up at the top of the canopy of his bed.

"...I didn't get to tell Ron or Hermione I loved them, since I guess I've never been the type to say that stuff even if I mean it. I haven't stopped Voldemort. I haven't proven the Dursleys wrong, haven't avenged my parents..."

"Haven't told you a lot of things I should've by now." He trails off, adding, finally looking over to gauge your reaction. You blink a few times at the bluntness.

"Like what?" You ask all too quickly, shifting.

"...You know I like you, Y/N, don't you?" He murmurs, looking away and back up at the canopy, "and that... That I was gonna ask you to the Yule Ball but totally chickened out." He also admits, vulnerably.

It's kind of a lot to process since he only continues to add fact after fact, each more daunting than the last.

"And that one time I went to your dorm for the night, snuck in, hid under the blankets so your roommates didn't know, I really wanted to do that over and over again. I tried to come by again one day, but the entry was seriously impossible." He goes on, "I just really like being with you, y'know?"

"Shh," you shush him, gently, when you two finally get to make eye contact, trying to sit with the thoughts so you could get a word in.

The way he looks up at you as if you're his entire world has you weak, quite frankly, and you're debating whether to handle this with your brain or heart.

...You opt for heart.

In a few secomds time, your hand moves down to cup his jaw before leaning down to comfortably kiss him, praying he reciprocates.

Thankfully, a few seconds after, he complies, spare hand moving to find your waist gently, the other arm still against the sling as his lips press back to yours.

"I just really don't wanna regret never telling you. Or getting to do any of this stuff that I've always wanted to. Especially when it feels like we could die any day." He murmurs against your lips, forehead pressed to yours as he catches a breath.

"Yeah?" You murmur back, "we'll make sure it happens." The reassurance of your voice is enough to relax him in his position beside you.

You're a bit more aware of your position, halfway hovering over him as he lies down. Surely, if he weren't wounded, it'd be the other way around. Maybe. Probably. It wasn't everyday you got him in bed with you.

"...I don't wanna rush, but I also don't wanna wait anymore. Does that make sense?" Harry asks, hand finding your waist and gently ghosting it.

"I understand, I think." You agree and breathe out, "but we better make a decision quick because we're getting way too comfortable with the idea that they won't come back anytime soon."

He tries to move before soon remembering his sore arm, wincing before watching you opt to move for him, "where d'you want me?"

The sharp breath he sucks in at that doesn't go unnoticed before asking, "in my lap, please?"

Complying, you move to sit on his lap, looking down at him. His free hand finds your thigh.

"Are we seriously doing this?" You ask him.

"Don't have to. Just... Really want to." He says honestly, "you're really, really bloody pretty, y'know that?"

The way he acts and talks is almost cautious, as if you being on his lap was the signal to take initiative right now. Well damn.

"...Thanks," you hum, a bit out of it. You're about to have sex with your best friend, aren't you?

Eyes closing for a moment, he has to take in another sharp yet shaky inhale as he takes in the sight of you on top of him. At least you know you have an effect on him.

Kissing was oddly the safest option in this situation, a thought you never thought you'd have. But here you were, leaning down to trap him in your arms as you lock your lips again, careful of his arm beside him before your chest are nearly against one anothers.

He doesn't speak, kissing you like you're a necessity for life, if not life itself.

Admittedly, you feel him harden against you, bur you can't blame him. You're fully pressed down in his lap, kissing him, shifting to get comfortable here and there.

That doesn't mean it's not surprising, though.

"You already hard?" You murmur against his lips, pulling away enough to talk with him, one hand brushing the hair from his eyes and fixing his glasses.

He nods back, looking up at you, a little breathless.

Well fuck. You're having sex with the guy you've been in love with since your first year. The guy where your puppy love for him turned one random day into admittedly raunchy thoughts you found yourself thinking of late at night.

That wasn't the point right now.

He lets out a soft groan out of seemingly nowhere, head falling back against the pillow as his eyes shut tight, mumbling repeatedly, "do that again..."

"Do what?" You ask, not torturously, but rather confusingly.

"Uhm—just... That." He sheepishly moves a hand to your rear to try and press you down against him once again. Oh. Okay.

So this seemed more realistic right now. Kissing and grinding. Clothes on, all that. You didn't feel as timid now, knowing what was going on.

"I can do that." You hum back, assessing your situation before moving your hands to rest on either side of his head on the bed, hovering over him.

"But bare with me. I've never..." You decide to let him finish that sentence for you, and he quickly picks up on it thankfully.

"Me neither. It's fine. Anything you do feels good, really." He decides to admit in hopes of assuring you.

You nod softly, the high expectations you originally had for yourself lowering thankfully as you seem to feel the pressure lift from your shoulders.

Hips grinding, you press back down into his lap, your own hips stuttering at the feeling as you let out a shaky exhale.

Admittedly, he was in his usual uniform pants, and you your skirt, where this basically had you grinding your panties against him given the position. Any sensatations were heightened and your immediate shudders had him groaning.

"...Keep doing that, please." He pleads a little weakly. You didn't know whether he was always such a taker or if the daunting event had him needing to get taken care of for once.

You weren't not going to, either, though.

"I won't stop, don't worry," you hum, hips gliding over his, feeling him press up against you as you let out your own caught off guard whimper.

"You're so pretty," he repeats, hand finding your waist like before, before moving to move your hair out of your way, "thank god you like me—fuck."

"Yeah? Thank god I like you?" You let out a breathy laugh, before faltering to let out a small gasp, hips stuttering at a particularly good movement that you find yourself repeating for a few moments.

He nods, repeatedly, neck arching against the pillow, "fuck, oh," he bucks his hips, hand steadying yours, "bloody hell..."

You decide not to let up, wondering if that was what he'd need to get off, trying to think of what you'd want in his situation, and he reels.

"Hah, ah, Y/N," his hips buck once more, "need you to cum, too." He pleads.

It's not that you didn't love this, because you loved every second of it, but you weren't close. Not as close as him, anyway.

"Can't, 's okay." You shake your head, "not about me today. Next time."

He snakes his open hand down to your thigh before trying to get your skirt up with one hand and find your panties with the same one. You give in and hold your skirt up for him, wondering where he was going with this.

"Show me where to touch," he looks up, letting you move your own hand to guide his, right to your clothed clit over your panties, hips twitching.

He runs repeated circles over that spot, trying to find the right pace.

"Little faster," you hum, hand now on his thighs behind you, the other letting the skirt fall as you secure yourself on his lap, leaned back, hips experimentally grinding forward again.

"Now do smaller circles," your nods spur him on, and he's seemingly keen on figuring this out right here, right now.

He finally gets it, thumb on your clit, circling at the perfect speed, as you rolled your hips against his clothed cock, watching him twitch at your touch.

Not only that, but he seems to be trying to get you to cum first. His thumb persistent, trying not to get too horny from the sight and feeling of a pretty girls hips rolling against his.

"Harry? Harry, I'm close," you hum, moving back to hover more closely over him, "think you can cum with me?" You hum. You doubt it, simply since he seems so pent up, so sensitive.

"Cum with you? Oh, fuck," he rolls his hips up desperately, making you whine, and him orgasm, totally moaning out as he relaxes against the bed. He bucks his hips repeatedly, long, thorough thrusts against you.

"Harry, *please*," you whine. You don't orgasm at the same time, but during his, as he comes down. He simply keens at your reaction.

"I'm, fuck, I'm..." You roll your hips down, struggling, feeling him shakily move your hips with his hand as he continues to sensitively grind up against you, pants admittedly wet.

Your panties were no better, and you knew that, so you weren't one to talk.

You come crashing down with his meticulous movements he'd learned only minutes ago, whimpering before whining softly as your hips stutter and he guides you through it.

"You got it." He murmurs, reassuringly, rubbing your hips gently as you come down.

Quite frankly, you didn't even feel present after that. Here you were, in Harry's bed, limp in his lap, legs shaky with your head pressed to his chest.

"...We're dating, right?" You breathe out.

"Just let me ask you properly, like you deserve." He sighs with a soft nod, "later. When I can actually... Think. And breathe. And... All of that."

You like the sound of that. And he doesn't seem as stressed as he was earlier about all that... Existential, the world is ending stuff.

"What in the—oh, god, you two—" a loud voice makes you both tense, and Harry grip your waist a little tighter. Ron.

"Get out—!" Harry instinctively calls back out, "10 more minutes, I swear!" He sighs.

"...Did you two—" Ron tries to ask again.

"10 minutes, Ron." Harry huffs. That seems to get Ron to comply, thankfully, and the door closes behind him as he rushed down the stairs.

"...He's gonna tell Hermione." Harry huffs, sheepishly.

"She won't be surprised." You admit. There was no way she didn't see this coming with the things you'd tell her about your crush on him.

"What?" Harry blinks a few times before sighing, "y'know what? I... I don't wanna know. Just lie back down."

He sighs, bringing your head back to his chest and running a hand through your hair, and really, all you were thinking about were his words:

"Let me ask you properly. Like you deserve."

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