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redeemingvillains · 24 days ago

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dove - mattheo riddle

─✶⋆.˚ 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰, 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔰

summary: fed up with the way the slytherin boys create chaos without consequence, someone seeks to bring them down a notch by going after the one thing their strongest loves most: you.

warnings: this is relatively dark (for me anyway!) reader is attacked + kissed/touched against their will. mentions of blood, knives and violence.

word count: 6.6k 🫣

soundtrack: heathens - twenty one pilots

a/n: i promise this isn't deranged, there is ample flangst and a mattheo that would burn the world to the ground for you ♡

If you'd heard it once, you'd heard it a thousand times.

Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.

As if you weren't an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions, of reading people, of caring for your own heart.

On paper, you and Mattheo Riddle made no sense. You were quiet and calm, friendly and compassionate, quick with a warm smile and a hug. You were light and laughter and goodness.

By contrast, Mattheo was rough and edgy, quick to anger with a firecracker temper and a biting sarcasm like a venomous snake that kept everyone but his closest friends at an arm's length. But around you? He melted.

It was like you held the key that unlocked his defenses, allowing you to walk straight into the dark center of his heart. He would have mocked any guy who fell for a girl the way he fell for you: immediately, irrevocably and hard. And once he had his mind made up about you, there was little you could say in the matter (not that you were arguing).

He showered you with a depth of affection that was rare for anyone, let along the brooding bad boy of Hogwarts.

Suddenly, he was just there, beside you in class, next to you at meals, and keeping you company in the library as you studied. Before long you began to crave the feeling of his presence, of his warmth next to you, of the low rumble of his voice meant only for you to hear as he shared an inside joke or complimented you. He'd eagerly watch your face light up in return, the twinkle in your eyes, the lift of your lips and your happiness became a high for him that he wouldn't stop chasing; making you happy and keeping you happy became his mission, one that he succeeded at in every way.

Then late one night in the library you were huddled close together as a storm racked the castle outside, sending wind and rain against the large windows. Your heads were close together as you spoke in whispers. You looked at him and smiled and for just the breath of a second your eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips, and that was all the invitation he needed. He leaned in slowly, winding his hand to cup the side of your face as he pressed his lips to yours and he kissed you with tenderness and hunger, the combination of which pulled you out of your seat and onto his lap. And once he realized how bright you shined after he kissed you? He was a goner. And so were you.

There wasn't a thing anyone could say to you about Mattheo after that that you would have listened to, because he had you, heart and soul. He treated you like royalty, he protected you like treasure and he loved you with everything he had in him. What more could a girl possibly ask for?

You fell in step with Mattheo's long strides on your walk to breakfast, the early morning light beaming through the stained glass windows.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, right where he always wanted you, as close to him as possible. You nuzzled into his neck and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

As usual, the sea of students in the corridor dipped and dodged out of your way, leaving a wide berth for your group out of deference and intimidation. It was odd for you at first joining the group that held the rest of the school in such rapt fear because it was immediately obvious that they were just like everyone else, they just didn't care to show that side of themselves to the world; they were fun-loving, goofy, affable and caring and they quickly adopted you as one of their own.

You rounded the corner to the Great Hall and Mattheo went crashing into a figure that hadn't had the wherewithal to get out of his way. He tightened his grasp on you out of instinct and narrowed his eyes towards Seamus Finnegan who had dropped the entire stack of books he'd been holding and looked ready to argue about it until he saw who he was confronting. He bit his tongue instead, averted his eyes, and stepped out of your way.

Mattheo moved by him without a word, the slight already forgotten, but you glanced back with the smallest ounce of pity in your eyes as Seamus knelt to the floor to gather his books and a few Gryffindors came to help him.

"M'fuckin' sick of it" Seamus said quietly once you were out of earshot. "Him, them, walkin' around like they own the school" he shot a nasty glare in the direction of the Slytherin table.

"Good luck doing anything about it" Ron sighed, resigned. "Nasty temper, that one" he added, eyes shifting warily towards Mattheo like he might actually have the ability to hear him from the other side of the loud hall.

"It's cruel is what it is! Neville is still trying to recover from Nott hexing him. He claimed it was an 'accident', but we all know the truth. He should be expelled!" Hermione added hotly, her cheeks flushing at the idea of anyone breaking the rules and getting away with it.

Seamus grimaced as he stared at your group, at the ease with which you had all carried on with your morning, laughing and joking, boisterous, without a care in the world because you knew you were all completely untouchable, above reproach or reprimand.

He knew there wasn't a thing he could do in retaliation without ending up in the infirmary or worse he thought solemly.

What I wouldn't give to take them down a notch his mind whirled, to make them feel something, to feel vulnerable, on edge, afraid like the rest of us.

His eyes narrowed.

Surely there was a weakness, a vulnerability he could find, something something to level the playing field. His eyes skated over Draco and Blaise, over Theo's large frame and Lorenzo's tall figure before they landed back on Mattheo, and finally on you.

You.

He watched the way Mattheo kept his arm around you, as he always did, keeping you close to his side like you were two parts of one whole and Seamus thought about the way he'd seen Mattheo pull you even closer when he'd run into him. He watched, really watched him turn to look at you when you talked and saw a surprising softness in his normally cold, dark eyes.

It was no secret that you two were together, Mattheo loved kissing you openly, unabashedly, anywhere and everywhere he pleased: in between classes, after quidditch matches, at meals, even in class from time to time with a complete disregard to anything the professors said about it.

If there was one thing anyone knew or had learned the hard way it was that you were one hundred percent off limits and to think otherwise was a death wish.

Seamus remembered the transfer student several months ago that had unknowingly asked you out, and how Mattheo had broken his nose over it. Twice. Never mind the time Mattheo happened to overhear a Ravenclaw compliment your outfit, and he ended up puking slugs for weeks.

Seamus shuddered.

Mattheo had an appetite for violence and a temper that never burned hotter than when it came to you, sending him into a fitful spiral.

She's his weakness he realized.

"I have an idea" he said to the group around him.

Weeks later, your feet carried you quickly down the winding stone staircase from Divination. You were first out the door, eager to spend every second of the short break you had between classes with Mattheo as you always did at this time in the neighboring stairwell of the North Tower.

You turned the corner to see him leaning against the wall, waiting for you and your face lit up as you strode toward him in the small, empty space. He stood up straighter as he took you in and he fidgeted with his hands in an unusually nervous way that had you laughing as you approached him and pressed into him, winding your arms around his neck.

"Hi handsome" you breathed against his lips before you kissed him.

But it was like kissing a statue.

His lips sat unmoving against yours, his hands awkwardly at his side.

"Matty?" you asked, pulling back to look at him to see the same look of genuine nerves on his face, his cheeks flushed.

You laughed again, totally confused at his reaction.

"Are you okay?—"

"—Y-yeah" he mumbled before running his hands slowly up your sides. "Yeah, m'so good" he confirmed before tugging you into him.

His lips met yours but something was still off, he was stiff and awkward. You moved to pull away from him again but his grip on you tightened, holding you in place until he swung you around and pushed you against the stone wall so quick and so hard your head knocked against the surface painfully.

Mattheo was a lot of things.

But careless with you was not one of them.

Your heart raced in your chest as your head throbbed. You pushed against him, but he was unwavering as he deepened his kiss aggressively, sloppily, despite your growing protests. And then he bit your bottom lip. Hard. And you tasted blood.

"Ah! Mattheo - what the fuck!" you said, shoving him hard this time as your hand flew to your bleeding lip.

He looked completely disheveled, flushed, his eyes glazed as he stared at you. Your stomach roiled.

And then you earnestly began to panic because for the first time in the year you'd been together you were keenly aware of how tall and how big he was, and how helpless you were in comparison.

Your heart began to race and your breaths came fast and shallow as you searched his face for any sign of the boy you loved and every cautionary word you'd been told came racing back to you: Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.

Those fears mixed with how fiercely you loved him in a cocktail of confusion that left tears burning in your eyes as you tried to hold back a sob.

At the sight of that he smirked and a chill ran down your spine.

You tried to run.

He grabbed you.

"C'mon dove" he said, caging you in with his arms against the wall despite how you squirmed. "I know you like it like this" he muttered as lips attached to your neck and he began to suck and bite you.

Dove?

He'd never once called you that.

You scraped against his chest. You tried to shout until he put a hand over your mouth and it was like he was intentionally trying to mark you, sucking your skin so hard you could feel the bruising as you pushed and punched him to no avail. He reached for the top of your shirt and yanked, tearing it as buttons flew off.

You were crying hard now as you fought his hands when suddenly voices echoed in a nearby corridor and he pulled away from you.

His grip loosened and his eyes flashed with fear, and then he left, taking off down the corridor without a word.

You sunk to the floor in disbelief, gasping to catch your breath as cries ripped from you and you wrapped your arms around yourself, your brain a mottled mess as you tried to comprehend what the fuck had happened to your boyfriend.

As soon as you could steady yourself, you grasped your torn shirt with shaking hands and made your way as quickly as you could to the common room through a series of passageways and abandoned corridors to avoid running into anyone.

You snuck into the dungeons, head down, desperate to get to your room, when you heard your friends' voices.

"There she is. Hey! YN!" Blaise shouted.

Shit.

You tried to ignore him, to act like you didn't hear anything.

"YN!" Theo called after you, louder. "Hang on, I'll get her" he said, standing to come after you.

You tried to walk faster, doubling your pace.

"Hey, hey!" Theo said, catching up with you easily with his long strides. "Have you seen Mattheo? He—"

He reached for you and you pulled out of his grasp, turning to face him and he stopped in his tracks, the words dying on his lips as his eyes widened and the color drained from his face.

"YN" he said quietly, intently. "What the fuck happened to you? Holy shit."

He reached for your face, taking your chin in his warm hand, his touch so soft and gentle, so completely opposite of everything you'd just experienced that you immediately began to cry.

"Bella, your lip" he said, panic slipping into his tone both at your reaction and the sight of the blood there. "Who the fuck did this?"

You closed your eyes and shook your head and he slowly wrapped his arms around you. Your head fell to his chest as you grasped him, soaking his jumper with your tears.

By now, Draco, Lorenzo and Blaise had come over and were muttering softly.

"Bloody hell."

"This is fucking mental, mate."

"Matty is going to kill them."

And at just the mention of his name, you pushed further into Theo's chest, burrowing there like you could hide from the world.

"Bella, you're going to have to tell him, you can't protect whoever did this" he said, misreading your reaction.

"Well, we'll have to find him first. He'd better hear this from us" Blaise said.

Find him?

"W-what do you mean find him?" you muttered against Theo's chest.

"Haven't seen him since breakfast. Wasn't in class this morning and didn't come for our smoke" Draco replied.

Your head ached as much from your tears as it did from where he'd pushed you into the wall as you tried to process that. What had he been doing all day? And what the hell had gotten into him?

A burst of laughter, shouts and a loud wolf whistle echoed from behind you and pulled the group's attention to the door. You peeked from the comfort of Theo's arms to see Mattheo walking in... in his underwear.

"Thank you, thank you" he smirked, bowing cockily to the group of onlookers who cheered and gawked at his half-naked body, moving to make his way towards his room until he saw your group.

"There you fuckers are" he said as he approached. "I have had a fucking day - someone's getting their face rearranged—" but he stopped midsentence when he got close enough to see you in Theo's arms.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" he asked, stepping towards you immediately.

Theo moved to let you go but you gripped him tighter, hiding yourself, refusing to move.

Mattheo stopped, startled by your reaction like he'd run into a brick wall. He stood at a distance from you, completely unmoored by the sight of you grasping onto someone else for comfort. His heart began to thump heavily and angrily in his chest and his cheeks flushed in irritation and embarrassment.

He let out a steadying breath, his jaw clenched as his eyes slid to Theo, the decided object of the brewing anger he felt.

"What. The fuck. Is going on?" he asked again, his fury palpable.

"It's not—I don't—" Theo stumbled.

"—She hasn't said anything, mate" Enzo clarified.

You could feel yourself begin to shake and a dam of pressure welled up behind your eyes at how angry Mattheo was, at how afraid you were to be near him, at what he might do or say next and yet at the same time, how much you craved his comfort, how you knew he was the only person who could truly make you feel better.

Your tears came hot and wet down your cheeks as you cried into Theo's chest and Mattheo felt something crack inside of him. He'd never once seen you like this and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, sick over how upset you were, sick that you were in pain, sick that you didn't seem to want him or to be anywhere near him, sick that he didn't know what to do or how to help.

"B-baby, please?" he said, nearly begging as he tried to move closer.

The tone in his voice and the affectionate nickname tugged at your heart.

You swallowed and turned your head to look at him, gently, tentatively letting Theo go.

Mattheo's eyes met yours before they wandered over your face.

His face fell.

And he stopped breathing.

A cold sensation like the ooze of a cracked egg ran down his body as he looked at you.

Your mascara was smeared, caught in the tears that were running down your face. Your cheeks were red and flushed and your lip was swollen and bleeding. He catalogued the bruises down your neck and marks that looked an awful lot like bites there too that led to your ripped and tattered shirt.

Mattheo had been angry plenty of times in his life, and for good reason. But this was the first time he felt it. He could have told you where and how quickly the rage pulsed in his veins, blooming hot in his chest, pumping into his arms, into his hands that curled into fists and ached to hit something, into his stomach, his legs that wanted to run, to cause chaos and destruction until he fixed this.

But he didn't expect the next emotion that hit him like a dark wave in a stormy ocean, all consuming, nearly bowling him over: deep and overwhelming sadness.

"N-no, no no no who-who did this? Baby" his voice ached with pain as he moved to step towards you again, desperate to hold you, to make it better as quickly as he could.

You took a small, hesitant step back and looked at him with confusion, with trepidation.

And you said the next words so quietly he was certain he'd heard you wrong.

"You" you whispered.

His face scrunched in confusion.

"It was you" you said louder and all the boys turned to look at you and then back to Mattheo.

"In the stairwell? Our spot?" you said pointedly, trying to get him to remember.

"You were there, waiting for me, but you were... off. Different. And then y-you..." you gestured to yourself as you tried to keep from coming undone again at the memory.

Theo took a protective step closer to you.

Mattheo carded his hands through his hair in exasperation where they rested atop his head as he paced a step back and forth before stopping in front of you. It was taking his entire willpower not to lose his composure, and not to launch at his best friend.

"I got jumped this morning" he said patiently, evenly, though his underlying anger was still very much there. "I woke up in a broom closet ten minutes ago with no fucking clothes."

"B-broom closet?" you muttered, confused.

"Yeah, it was maddening, had to break the door down and— look, that doesn't matter. Please please tell me you believe me."

Your mind was reeling. You opened your mouth hesitantly to reply, but you couldn't find your words, your emotions, your fear, everything you felt far too raw.

He let out another deep breath and then crouched in front of you, making himself smaller, less threatening as he met your gaze directly.

"You are the most important person in my world. You know that, right? You are everything to me. Everything that is precious and perfect and right. And I would never ever hurt you."

You met his dark brown eyes that were shining intently up at you, unflinching in their truth and you nodded despite your tears and sniffles. Of course you knew that, which was why everything that happened this morning was so fucked up.

He slowly extended his hand to you, palm up, wordlessly asking you to believe him, to trust him.

"You're okay now, you're safe. No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here, okay?"

And gods you'd needed to hear that. You nodded again, more strongly now.

"We're going to figure this out. And I'm going to fix this, I can promise you I will fix this. Hey, can you look at me?"

Your eyes met his and more hot tears fell down your cheeks at the gentleness and patience in his expression, the way he was nearly on his knees begging for you to trust him, to believe that the boy in front of you in no way could have been the boy from this morning and you pursed your lips.

"I love you" he whispered.

And those words alone healed a significant part of your hurt.

You slowly placed your shaking hand in his and it was like your body immediately registered the difference in his touch, how he tenderly ran a thumb over your knuckles as he continued to speak softly to you as he stood up.

"I've got you, you're going to be okay. It's me, I'm here" he said as he slowly pulled you toward him.

You took one step, and then another, and then you curled yourself against his warm chest and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding as you grasped him. He held you tightly to him, squeezing hard, and his hand held the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your temple.

You sniffed and let out a few more shaky breaths, letting him consume you, trying to replace every memory from this morning with his touch like it could pull the fear from you as you listened to his heartbeat and took in his familiar smell.

Theo cleared his throat as politely as possible.

"Really hate to break up the moment, but if you spent the morning in a broom closet, then how the fuck were you also walking around the North Tower?—"

"—Polyjuice potion" Draco said, without missing a beat, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's the only logical explanation, would also explain why they had to take your clothes" he gestured to Mattheo's half-naked body.

"What?!" Blaise exhaled in disbelief.

"So you mean to say someone planned all of this? Went through all of this effort just to get to her?" Theo asked, and you could hear the fury rising with his tone.

Mattheo's arms squeezed around you, a subconscious reaction to the thought.

"What kind of sick fuck?—"

"—I'm going to kill them" Mattheo said flatly.

And it wasn't a turn of phrase.

He'd said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly that you nearly believed him and hugged him back a little tighter.

"Do you have any idea who it was?" Lorenzo asked.

"No you dipshit, don't you think if she knew it wasn't him this wouldn't have happened?" Draco replied, smacking him in the back of the head.

Theo and Blaise chimed in, arguing the point with one another.

"He did say something weird" you mused quietly, silencing them all as they turned to look at you. "He called me dove" you said, shaking your head at the memory, like you could make yourself forget it.

Mattheo held you that night in a way that made you wonder if he'd ever let you go again. Every minute you spent back with the real him seemed to stitch you together again, to heal and comfort you as you snuggled further into his arms.

He'd apologized no less than a thousand times by now, the guilt steadily eating away at him, even though he had nothing to be sorry for, which you continually reminded him.

"You're a fucking angel" he sighed, unable to stop thinking about it as he traced a thumb over your cheek, his expression sorrowful and raw. "Someone did this to you because of me."

"Matty, that's not—"

"—I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been there."

"It's okay, it's not your fault. I'm okay now" you said, smiling, feeling the words as you said them, tracing a finger down the bridge of his nose.

You tried to reassure him the rest of the night, managing to coax a few smiles out of him, but his eyes never left you, like he feared looking away for a single blink would leave you in danger. And although a spell had mended your lip and healed your bruises, he continued to trace his fingers over where each mark on your skin had been, like he was reminding himself, committing them to memory.

Nothing could have prepared you for the tension of the days that followed.

The whole group was on edge, like a pack of rabid dogs, ready to snap at anyone that got too close to you. One if not all of them walked you to every class, to every meal, to every event, to Hogsmeade and back again; Mattheo even insisted on showering with you and sleeping with you every night, much to you sincere enjoyment.

The boys spent their days eyeing everyone with suspicion and their nights trying to plot out who might have attacked you. Five guys were walking around the castle with black eyes, but no one had come clean and it was slowly driving them mad; the lack of answers was taking the situation from a serious problem to a personal vendetta.

Two weeks passed. And though the tension remained, you were settling into the heightened level of protection, finding a sense of calm in the way the boys surrounded you like a security blanket. You had every confidence that they would figure this out and until then all you could do was seek a return to normalcy, to focus on the present.

You grounded yourself with the task at hand, potting bundles of dittany during Herbology class shoulder to shoulder with your friends at a long table in the warm greenhouse, the boys acting as a veritable wall between you and the Gryffindors.

Your eyes caught Mattheo's across the narrow table from you and you watched the way the spring sun caught his dark locks. He sent you one of his signature smirks and a quick wink that made you blush and smile.

Your classmates chattered back and forth quietly until a phrase wafted down the table as Seamus Finnegan leaned over to Hermione Granger.

"C'mon dove, help me out?"

And it was like someone sucked the air out of the room. The warmth in the greenhouse suddenly felt stiflingly hot and you could hear the blood rushing to your head as it whooshed in your ears.

Time slowed to seconds like the tick of a broken time-turner.

Five.

Your eyes lifted and met Mattheo's whose had lost all warmth and peace in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. They were devoid of color, clouded, jet black. His jaw ticked as he looked at you, asking you wordlessly to confirm what he'd just heard.

The trill of Finnegan's voice, the accent was all too familiar, it was undeniable and it sent you spiraling back to that morning in the stairwell in a way that had you woozy on your feet. You nodded, small and quick back to him.

Confirming what you'd thought so many times before, that there was an inexplicable bond that linked the boys together, four sets of eyes wordlessly confirmed the same.

And then chaos erupted.

Four.

Lorenzo ran for Finnegan and Theo dropped the plant in his hands, sending shattered pottery and dirt flying in his rage, hot on Enzo's heels.

Three.

Your eyes followed them both but fell to Draco who had started moving in the opposite direction, frantically pushing past classmates who were looking around in panic as he tried to reach Mattheo.

Two.

You glanced at your boyfriend.

He hadn't moved.

He wasn't making a scene, but he'd pulled out his wand, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember a time when he'd favored his magic over his fists.

Oh no you thought as you began to move towards him yourself.

One.

Mattheo stood straight and tall, brandishing his wand with unflinching confidence and surety as he pointed it directly at Finnegan's head.

"AVADA KE—" his voice boomed.

"—Not like this, mate!!" Draco shouted, grabbing his arm at the last possible second.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Mattheo roared, the contact breaking him out of his stupor as he thrashed in Draco's arms.

By now the others had wrangled Finnegan whose face was as green as the detail on their robes; he knew he was utterly and hopelessly fucked, and if you weren't sure before you were certain now that it had been him, the guilt so clear on his face it might as well have been written on his forehead. Your skin crawled.

The rest of your classmates were running and screaming, tearing by you to flee the room as your feet kept you cemented to the floor.

"You're dead! You're fucking dead!" Mattheo's voice echoed, as he screamed and thrashed in Draco's arms.

"You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it, Finnegan! How dare you, how fucking dare you!!!"

Draco was barely holding onto him as they all walked quickly towards the back of the greenhouse.

You moved to follow until Blaise came up beside you and gently reached for you, pulling you into the throng of people fleeing.

"C'mon" he said, softly but firmly guiding you the other way, back towards the castle. "They've got this, you don't need to be here for this—"

"—But this is because of me, Blaise" you urged, pulling back, frantically looking between him and the disappearing figures of Mattheo and your friends, his raging threats echoing off the glass walls in a way that amplified them.

"No, this is because of Finnegan" he said coldly, following your gaze. "And he'll get what's coming to him."

Blaise guided you quickly back to the castle, back to the common room and he tried his best to keep you company, to keep you occupied, though neither of you could properly focus on anything else.

"It'll be alright, right?" you asked quietly, for the hundredth time.

He nodded steadily. "It'll be alright, YN" he reassured you.

You sighed.

"This is just... a lot" you admitted.

"Babe, if you wanted someone to be level-headed and normal about you, you're with the wrong guy" he said in attempt to make you smile.

You smiled weakly and toyed with the fringe of the blanket that you pulled into your lap.

An hour passed.

And then four more.

You skipped dinner and sat in the secluded corner of the common room with Blaise until it emptied and the embers in the fireplace burned low, nearly out. You had sat quietly together now for hours. You were exhausted of conversation and exhausted from the wash of emotions from the day, a mix of relief, of pain in reliving the memories upon hearing Finnegan's voice, of worry about what exactly was going on.

You'd never seen Mattheo like that; he had been completely unhinged and you recalled his words the day it all happened. "I'm going to kill them" spoken like a vow, an oath.

It was beyond late before the door snicked open quietly and the four boys walked in without a sound. You and Blaise stood and they met Blaise's eyes first, nodding at one another before your friends departed, leaving you with somber smiles to be with Mattheo.

You navigated around the couches to him, your footsteps quickening to close the distance and you pulled him into your arms. His body was stiff with tension, but you felt it begin to melt away the second you touched him; he nuzzled into you and you could feel the tired on him, mixed with a burdened sense of relief.

"Come on" you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

He sat down on the corner of the bed in the dim light and let out a sigh like he was trying to unload the weight he'd been carrying, his shoulders slumped as he ran his fingers through his hair. You stepped between his legs and reached for his hands the way you always did, ready to tend to them.

"They're fine" he croaked, his voice hoarse as he met your gaze, smiling softly at you, taking you in. You could tell he was trying to distract you and when he rested his hands on your hips and moved to pull you into him, he almost succeeded.

You pressed a quick, searing kiss to his lips and then reached to pull his hands off of your hips and he relented, sighing again.

His knuckles were badly bruised and bloodied, at least two of them looked to be broken from what you could tell and a frown crested your lips to know that the same hands that were so gentle with you could be capable of such violence.

But it was the crimson blood that stained his palms, that gathered under each fingernail that made you pause. That was new.

"Mattheo" you whispered, the question lingering in the air unspoken. What did you do?

"He's gonna be gone for awhile" he said plainly in response before his eyes met yours straight on, intense.

"And he is never, ever going to touch you again."

You pursed your lips and nodded, acknowledging that this was his way of apologizing, of making things right, of balancing the scales of justice as judge, jury and executioner.

He brought his bloody hands to your face, cupped it gently and kissed you.

Seamus didn't come back until well after spring solstice, weeks later.

Despite the rampant rumors and speculation, he didn't say a single word about what happened, like the boys had taken his very voice from him.

His face was still mottled with multicolored bruises, one eye swollen shut, evidence that even magic couldn't heal the extent of the damage they'd caused.

But even despite that, something you'd learned about your friends is that they were not quick to forgive and they never, ever forgot...

You were lounging by the Black Lake on an unusually warm afternoon, sprawled on a large blanket with your friends, your shoes and socks forgone and your skirt and shirtsleeves rolled up in an effort to catch a tan.

Mattheo himself was shirtless beside you, his eyes closed against the warm rays as you rested your head on his bicep. Theo, Enzo and Draco were sitting next to you playing exploding snap while Blaise flipped through a book, and you sighed, reveling in the rare moment of peace, which didn't last longer than fifteen minutes.

"Bit warm for a jumper, isn't if Finnegan?" Draco shouted.

Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head to see a group of Gryffindors nearby.

Sure enough, the group was dressed like you, short sleeves, bare feet, but for Finnegan who was covered head to toe and was visibly dripping sweat. His faced flushed even redder at the comment as he averted his eyes, immediately shrinking in pure terror.

"Should take it off, mate" Lorenzo chimed in cheekily. "Enjoy the sun, no?"

Seamus swallowed but wouldn't meet their eyes.

You turned to look at Mattheo but he hadn't moved. His eyes remained closed though you could see a muscle tic in his clenched jaw.

"C'mon then" Theo said, sitting up like he meant to move. "Need our help? We'll come lend a hand."

Seamus looked like he was about to cry as his face crumpled.

You didn't know what they were playing at, but you could tell it was torturing him, and for the briefest moment you pitied him, until your memories came wading back, threatening to overwhelm you with the feeling of sickening fear and betrayal.

And it was like Mattheo could sense it, his eyes fluttering open to look at you as he tried to tug you back into his arms.

"Just ignore them" he said, his voice still scratchy.

But you saw Seamus pull his sweater over his head out of the corner of your eye and as it came away from his body you noticed the crimson lines covering his arms. Even at your distance you could feel the sickness of them, the curse of dark magic in the air and several people gasped and scrambled away from him.

You sat up and stared closer as you realized the lines spelled something.

On his left arm, MUDBLOOD in deep angry jagged letters, in wounds carved into his skin.

On his right, RAPIST.

He took one fateful look at your group and then got up and nearly tripped over himself as he ran back to the castle.

"Aww, was it something I said?" Draco cried after him.

"Bye!" Lorenzo waved cheerfully.

Blaise blew him a kiss.

And Theo watched his every move under dark lidded eyes.

But Mattheo was looking solely at you, trying to gauge your reaction, your understanding. He reached for your hand and twined his fingers in yours, pulling you back to lay down with him as he looked at you with vulnerability and caressed your cheek. Now you knew the truth. You knew just how dangerous he could be, just what lengths he would go to for you.

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest and your mind raced and for a moment it occurred to you to be scared.

Be careful. He's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.

You thought about broken knuckles and black eyes, of blood-stained palms and the lingering feeling of dark magic in the air. You heard his voice rattling the panes of the greenhouse with his rage, 'You're going to wish for death, you're going to beg me for it!'

And then that same voice, from the same boy, sweetly, softly ‘No one can hurt you, no one can fucking touch you when I'm here, when we're all here. I love you, YN.'

And you thought about the caress of his lips against yours on a stormy night, of his warm arms around you, of the feeling of his calloused hands on your bare skin, and the rumble of his voice in his chest as your head lay on his heart.

"It'll never heal" he said quietly, bringing you back to the present moment. "No magic can fix it. He'll wear that reminder on his skin for the rest of his life."

His chocolate eyes warmed as they looked at you, asking you, one more time, to trust him, to tell him that you understood.

You smiled softly, and traced a finger over his lips and a calm comfort settled over you, a reassurance that no matter what life threw your way, this boy would be standing by your side, that he might burn the world to the ground but would never let a flame touch you, that this was simply how he loved: deep, sincere, serious and unrelenting.

“I love you” you whispered in reassurance before leaning in to press the sweetest kiss to his lips that melted his heart and proved to him that every sin he committed along the way would always be worth it, for you.

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