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wwweasleystan · 1 month ago

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the one with the runaway bride

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader

Word Count: 12.1k (damn)

Summary: Sometimes running away from a wedding leads you exactly where you're meant to be — preferably into the arms of a much better guy.

A/N: These fics just keep getting longer and longer. again lowkey kinda hate this and i feel like i made theo heavily ooc but it is what it is ig

Theo hated churches.

He wasn’t particularly religious—never cared much for the belief in some higher power watching over them all. After all, if someone like that did exist, his mother—a devout, gentle woman—wouldn’t have been ripped from the earth so soon. It should’ve been his father, not her. At least, that’s what he’d thought as a boy.

Still, despite his aversion to anything even remotely sacred, he found himself sitting alone in the pews of a quiet chapel. The sun streamed through stained glass, washing the room in warm, fractured color. He didn’t believe in prayer, but he came here anyway. This had been his mother’s favorite place before she died, and somehow, being here made him feel closer to her—like she might hear him, if only faintly.

“Mamma,” He murmured, voice low, “sometimes I truly wonder what my future was meant to look like.”

The war was over, but the silence it left behind was deafening. He spent a lot of time now, wondering about his place in the world. He and the rest of his mates—Berkshire, Riddle, Malfoy, and Zabini—had played a crucial role, working as double agents under Dumbledore’s orders. But because their involvement had remained classified, carefully buried under the Ministry’s politics, they were still seen as Slytherins first. As former sympathizers. As a threat. Pariahs.

It stung. He had done the right thing, when it mattered most. And yet, he wondered if this cold reception was all he’d ever receive.

A few years ago, he hadn't even expected to live this long. His younger self had been certain he’d never survive the war—that he’d be killed for his betrayal of Voldemort and reunited with his mother much sooner than expected. But he had survived. And now, once again, he was adrift.

That’s why he came back here—hoping for clarity, for a sign. But as always, the silence answered him back.

He sighed softly, rising to his feet and tucking his hands into his coat pockets, ready to leave. His shoes echoed against the marble floor as he turned toward the exit.

But before he could cross the threshold, the chapel doors burst open with a loud bang.

Theo blinked.

A vision in white stumbled inside.

Satin, lace, curls escaping from a veil. Breathless. Flushed. A wild gleam in her eye.

His heart paused mid-beat as he recognized the chaos incarnate now standing in the aisle, clutching the skirt of her wedding dress like she’d just escaped a dragon, veil askew, bouquet long gone, and cheeks flushed pink like she’d run from hell itself.

His mouth opened before he could stop it.

“(L/N)?” The name left his mouth before he could stop it, soft and shocked and just a little bit disbelieving.

You looked up, startled — like you hadn’t expected to see another soul inside — and your eyes widened in delight.

“Theodore Nott!” You beamed, chest still rising and falling in heavy breaths, curls frizzing at the edges, voice giddy and strange, “Fancy seeing you here! Gosh, I haven't seen you since Hogwarts! How are you? And the others—Riddle, Berkshire, and the lot? All good, I hope.”

Theo stared at you in complete bewilderment as you keeled over to catch your breath, tugging off your veil and fanning yourself with it like some kind of deranged society lady.

“Merlin’s sweaty balls,” You gasped, dramatic as ever, “It’s impossible to breathe in this damn corset.”

“They’re good,” Theo said slowly, brow furrowed, “I’m sorry, are you in a wedding dress?”

You nodded, breathless, laughing like the question itself was hilarious, “Unfortunately, yes. Bit of a pity I didn’t realize I didn’t want to marry the sorry bloke thirty minutes ago. Would’ve made my escape a lot easier if I wasn’t drowning in fifty pounds of satin.”

He blinked at you, still speechless, hands deep in his coat pockets.

“I mean—” You barreled on, eyes wide and shining, “there I was, standing at the altar, looking at my so-called fiancé, and it just hit me: I cannot wake up to his sorry mug for the rest of my life. To hell with my parents. And society. I don’t want to be a Bulstrode. That name sounds like the arse-end of a toad, don’t you think?”

You paused, eyes narrowing playfully, “(Y/N) (L/N) sounds so much nicer, doesn’t it?”

Theo arched an unimpressed brow, “You know you can get married without changing your last name, right?”

At that, you absolutely lost it—doubling over in wheezing laughter, slapping your knee like he’d just told the funniest joke in history.

“You always were such a crack-up, Theodore!” You gasped between giggles, “Where are my manners? What brings you here today? Certainly not for the wedding, I hope—because, well—” You gestured at yourself, still panting in the middle of the cathedral, “you can probably tell that’s not happening.”

Before Theodore could get a word in, the sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Your eyes went comically wide as you pressed yourself flat against the stone wall, wedged just behind the chapel door as it swung open with a bang.

In marched your father—red-faced, sweaty, and breathing like a charging Hippogriff. His eyes locked onto Theodore like he was a bloodhound catching a scent.

“Have you seen a girl in a wedding dress?” He barked.

Theo quirked a brow, gaze sliding—slowly, deliberately—to the right, where you were doing your best impression of a human statue. From where he stood, he could see you mouthing frantic no’s, shaking your head so violently he was almost certain you’d give yourself whiplash. Your hands were flying in wild, desperate gestures, pleading silently.

He turned back to your father, the picture of calm.

“No, sir.”

Your father squinted, suspicious—but apparently not enough to question it. “Well, if you do,” He huffed, already half-turning, “you tell her to march her sorry behind back into that hall and marry the boy, or she’ll be sorry.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

You clutched your chest like you’d just survived a curse, eyes squeezed shut as you slid bonelessly to the floor in your crumpled wedding dress.

“That,” You breathed, “was nerve-wracking.”

You peeked up at him with a grateful look, “You’re a good liar, Nott. Thank you.”

Theo looked down at the breathless, sweaty heap you’d become, still sprawled on the stone floor like a very distressed meringue. With an amused smirk, he cleared his throat, “Well… good luck with everything, (L/N). Let me know if you actually go through with becoming a Bulstrode. I’ll send a wedding gift.”

You gaped up at him in horror as he began to sidestep the tangled mass of satin and lace that was your gown, clearly preparing to leave the chapel and abandon you to your doom. Without thinking, you grabbed his calf—your perfectly manicured nails digging into his trousers, the massive engagement ring catching the light like a cursed artifact.

“What?! You can’t go now! You have to get me out of here!”

Theo arched a skeptical brow, “And why, exactly, would I do that?”

You pointed at him in outrage, still clutching his leg like a deranged bride octopus, “You just lied to my father! That makes you an accomplice. A—A conspirator! You're already implicated!”

Theo looked thoroughly unimpressed, “I could just tell him you were hiding behind the door like a terrified possum.”

You gasped, “You wouldn’t.”

He tilted his head, “Try me.”

Panic glittered in your eyes before you straightened your spine and went full Slytherin, “Fine. You want to play that game? I’ll tell everyone you’re my secret paramour. That you seduced me, took my virtue in the belfry, and that’s why I fled the altar.”

Theo’s mouth dropped open, scandalized, “I beg your pardon?”

You clasped your hands together, expression softening into exaggerated, pleading sweetness, “Please, Theodore. I’m not asking for your soul. Just… apparate me out of here. One quick jump and I’ll be out of your life forever.”

He stared at you. Then sighed.

“Merlin help me,” He muttered, “You’re even more unhinged than I remember.”

“So that’s a yes?”

He offered you a hand, “Only if you swear not to mention the word ‘virtue’ ever again.”

You grinned, already taking his hand, “Deal, my paramour.”

He groaned. Loudly.

Theo stepped closer, one hand sliding around your waist, tugging you flush against him. You blinked up at him, stunned into silence by the proximity. Up close, you finally understood why half the girls in your year had harbored crushes on him. He had that kind of face—the infuriatingly beautiful kind that made your stomach swoop before your brain could catch up.

Then—with a sharp crack—the world twisted out from under your feet.

You landed hard against him, fingers fisting the lapels of his jacket like your life depended on it. Which, to be fair, it had.

Warm sunlight spilled over your face, the bustling sounds of the street around you cutting through the fading disorientation. You blinked. Then smiled.

You were free.

Theo watched you quietly as your eyes danced over every detail—the streetlamp, the baker’s cart, a child chasing a butterfly. Everything ordinary now seemed extraordinary through your gaze. You looked like someone seeing the world for the first time.

“Are you good, (L/N)?” He asked, low and cautious.

You didn’t take your eyes off the street. “A new world’s waiting for me,” You said softly, “It’s… terrifying.”

He didn’t say anything, but his grip around your waist didn’t loosen.

You stood there, trembling fingers still tangled in the fabric of his coat, heart pounding like it was trying to sprint back to the cathedral.

Theodore’s sharp gaze softened as he took in your messy lipstick, sweat-dampened curls, and the way you clung to him like the world had just tipped sideways. You looked like a woman on the edge of disaster—or greatness. Maybe both.

"Where were you planning to go?" He asked quietly.

You blinked up at him, dumbly, your glassy eyes beginning to sting as the reality of what you’d just done crashed over you like cold water.

Oh Merlin.

What had you done?

You didn’t have a house. You didn’t have a job. You didn’t have money of your own. Your entire life had been orchestrated by your father—who’d been all too eager to sell you off to your so-called fiancé—and you’d just thrown a wrench in his perfect little plan.

"I... I hadn’t thought that far." You admitted, voice barely a whisper as your bottom lip began to tremble.

Theo sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, “Bloody hell.”

You started to stammer, trying to save face, “Look—I’ll figure it out. I just needed to get away. You don’t have to—”

“Don’t be dense,” He muttered, “Come on.”

You furrowed your brows, confused, “Come on where?”

“My home,” He said bluntly, “You’re clearly overwhelmed, and you need to breathe somewhere that isn’t a chapel or the middle of a bloody street. You can crash in the guest room. I’ll pour a cup of tea. Or Firewhisky, if you’re feeling rebellious.”

You stared at him, stunned silent, “You’d really do that for me?”

In all honesty, Theodore had no idea why he was doing this for you.

Maybe it was the way your eyes looked—raw and frightened—that struck something in him. He remembered that look. Back when his mother died. Back when he was stuck between two worlds, pretending to be loyal to the Death Eaters while secretly fighting for the other side. When the war ended, and he had no bloody idea who he was without it.

He knew helplessness like an old friend. And though he’d never admit it aloud, he also knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight if he walked away now—knowing you were out there, wandering the streets in a bloody wedding dress or dragged back to marry someone you didn’t love.

“Yeah,” He said finally, “I would.”

You exhaled shakily, blinking back tears, “Okay.”

“Okay.” He echoed.

He held your arm carefully—like you were a glass about to crack—and apparated you both away.

By the time your feet touched down again, you were standing in a warmly lit corridor outside a tall, modern-looking door. Theodore slid a key out of his coat pocket and unlocked it with a click.

“My flat.” He said simply, stepping aside to let you in.

You blinked, glancing around as you followed him, “Wait. Don’t you have a whole family manor somewhere?”

He raised a brow as he tossed his coat onto a sleek brass hook, “Not fancy enough for you, darling? Would you rather go to the five-star resort your family booked for your honeymoon instead?”

You gaped, then closed your mouth, then opened it again—only to come up short, “Touché.”

He chuckled, pushing open the door, “I live in a flat because the manor’s too bloody big for just me. I might move back in when I’m older, but right now? No one needs twenty-three bedrooms unless they’re running a boarding school.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping inside after him, “Just say you’re rich and move on,” you muttered.

You were mid-sigh when your eyes took in the space—and almost instantly, the tension in your shoulders loosened. His flat wasn’t enormous, but it was stunning. Dark hardwood floors, rich emerald and charcoal accents, and floor-to-ceiling windows framed the London skyline like a painting. The air smelled faintly of pine, leather, and something warm—like spice and magic.

Books lined custom-built shelves along one wall, and a record player quietly spun something soft and jazzy in the corner. A massive velvet sofa sat in the center of the open-plan living area, flanked by brass sconces and a few well-kept plants.

Theo disappeared into a side room, leaving you standing awkwardly in your crumpled wedding dress in the middle of his living room. When he returned, he had a folded stack of clothes in his hands.

“I grabbed whatever looked closest to your size,” He said, handing them over with a half-shrug, “Might still be a bit big—but it’s cozy, at least.”

You unfolded the hoodie and held it up. It fell nearly to your knees.

“You’re joking.”

“Or you could stay in your wedding dress. Very sexy.”

You let out a laugh, “You got me again.”

You eyed the clothes, then glanced back up at him, “You sure none of your… lady friends left something behind? Something a bit more...appropriate?”

Theo smirked, unfazed, “I don’t keep a lost and found bin, sweetheart. But nice try.”

You grinned despite yourself, clutching the clothes to your chest.

“Go on,” He added, gesturing toward the hallway, “First door on the right—bathroom’s there. Take your time. Come out when you’re ready. I’ll sort dinner.”

“You cook?”

He looked at you, mock-offended, “I’m Italian.”

“That’s not a yes.”

Theo placed a hand over his heart, feigning injury, “Wow. So little faith.”

You laughed—a real one this time—as you padded off toward the bathroom, the ridiculous rustle of your wedding dress trailing behind you. Hoodie and sweats in hand, feet aching, heart still thudding from everything you’d run from.

But somehow, in the warmth of this space, with the sound of jazz humming in the background and Theo cooking up dinner—you started to feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Safe.

Maybe, just maybe… you were going to be okay.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, the last remnants of your old life had gone swirling down the drain—hairspray, waterproof mascara, and everything else that once held you together. You felt… lighter. Your skin was clean, your hair damp, and the oversized hoodie you wore—Theo’s—smelled faintly of cedar and citrus. It hung down to your thighs like a dress, and the joggers were barely hanging onto your waist.

The scent hit you first—garlic, tomatoes, fresh herbs—and your stomach let out a traitorous growl.

Theo looked up from the stove, giving you a once-over before turning back to stir the pot. “Look at you,” He said with a lopsided smirk, “Didn’t think my clothes would suit you that well.”

You gave him a smirk and did a twirl to show off the outfit—just in time for the joggers to fall right to your ankles. You both burst into laughter.

“The elastic’s useless and the drawstring’s just for decoration.” You said, tossing the offending trousers over the back of a chair.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I charmed the pants off a woman.” Theo replied smoothly.

You snorted, shaking your head.

He slid a bowl across the island toward you—tagliatelle with a thick, rich Bolognese sauce, steam curling up like it had its own mind.

You took one bite, and your eyes fluttered shut. “Oh my god,” You groaned, “This is… this is unreal.”

He gave a small shrug, “I told you.”

You were already shoveling in another forkful, “I haven’t eaten something that didn’t taste like sadness in months.”

Theo leaned against the counter, watching with amusement, “Easy, love. You keep going at that pace, you’ll make those giant joggers fit.”

You swallowed and let out a dramatic sigh, “Wedding diet. I’ve been living off steamed vegetables and heartbreak.”

He laughed, deep and full, “Well, lucky you. There’s more where that came from. And gelato in the freezer.”

Your head snapped up, “You’re kidding.”

“‘Chi mangia bene, vive bene,’” He said with a smirk, “‘Those who eat well, live well.’ My mamma drilled that into me.”

You blinked, then smiled, “Incredibly smart woman.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, your smile didn’t feel like something you had to fake or force. You sat there, in someone else’s hoodie, with sauce on your cheek and your hair still damp, in a flat that smelled like warmth and comfort and garlic.

Theo reached across the table, brushing his thumb gently against the corner of your mouth, “You’ve got a bit of sauce—right there.”

You blinked, startled by the tenderness of the gesture. His hand lingered a second longer than necessary before he pulled back.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” He asked, quieter now.

You gave him a half-smile, soft but guarded, “Sick of me already?”

His lips quirked, but his eyes stayed serious, “I just mean… are you sure you won’t regret this? People get cold feet. Panic at the altar. Happens all the time, or so I hear. And the longer you stay here—the more real this gets—the harder it’ll be to undo without fallout.”

You sat still for a moment, then set your fork down, appetite forgotten.

“It wasn’t cold feet,” You said, voice low, “I never wanted to get married.”

Theo didn’t interrupt. He just waited.

“My father did. Desperately. He’s been obsessed with bloodlines and alliances since before I could walk. Marrying into the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Like that still means anything in this world.” You let out a bitter laugh, “Somehow that old bastard managed to squirm his way out of Azkaban after the war. And now he’s back to doing what he does best—peddling blood purity and ruining my life.”

Theo’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing.

“I spent months shoving my feelings down, just trying to be the daughter he wanted. The obedient one. Because what choice did I have?” Your fingers curled around the fabric of his hoodie, “But when I was standing there—at the altar, staring down a future I didn’t choose—I realized something. Maybe I didn’t have choices before. But I could make one now.”

Silence stretched between you for a beat.

Then, softly, Theo said, “That was brave.”

You let out a watery laugh, swiping your sleeve beneath your eyes, “Please. Not like you, playing double agent for Dumbledore. Now that was brave.”

He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “That was reckless.”

“It was noble. Valiant,” You said, voice steadier now, “Really, the kind of madness only a true Slytherin could be ambitious enough to pull off.”

Theo arched a brow, “Flattery? From you?”

You gave him a crooked grin, “Don’t get used to it. Mine was just… selfish. Desperate.”

He looked at you, the warmth in his gaze soft but unwavering, “It’s good to be selfish sometimes.”

You held his gaze, breath catching slightly when his eyes didn’t waver. There was something weighty in the silence—something soft and unspoken stretching between you, tugging gently at the space that separated your bodies.

Theo’s fingers drummed once against the tabletop, then stilled. Neither of you moved.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears. He looked at you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your face, and for a second, just one second, you let yourself wonder what it would feel like to close the distance.

Then you blinked, cleared your throat, and reached for his plate. “Well. Since you think it’s good to be selfish,” You said, trying to sound casual, “I’m gonna eat the rest of your pasta.”

Theo let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh—or a sigh. Maybe both, “Oi—at least leave room for dessert.”

***

Loud, boisterous laughter was the first thing that dragged Theo out of a half-dream. He groaned, arm flinging over his eyes as the unmistakable sound of his front door swinging open—without ceremony—hit him like a freight train.

“What the—who the hell is making all that noise?” He muttered, voice hoarse as he blinked toward the ceiling.

The culprits were, predictably, already raiding his kitchen like starved hyenas: Draco, Lorenzo, Mattheo, and Blaise, helping themselves to his fresh bread and the groceries he’d actually gone out and picked himself—because unlike those degenerates, he cared about food quality.

He should’ve never given them spare keys.

“For emergencies,” He’d said. “Only if it’s important,” He’d said.

Idiotic. Clearly, their definition of ‘emergency’ included hungover brunches and unsolicited early morning gossip.

“Morning, sunshine,” Draco drawled with an infuriating smirk, already sprawled across Theo’s sofa, eating the hand-picked strawberries Theo had searched three markets to find, “You’re just in time for the morning news”

Theo groaned louder and face-planted into the cushions, “Could you shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep in our own damn flat.”

“Oh, come on,” Blaise said, smirking as he rifled through Theo’s cabinets, “You must’ve heard by now. (L/N). You remember her—Pansy's roommate. She left Bulstrode at the altar. Just ran right out.”

Lorenzo let out a low whistle, “Left Bulstrode standing there like an absolute mug. At the altar, mate. In front of everyone. Just turned and walked straight out mid-vows. I mean—iconic.”

Mattheo, chewing thoughtfully on a stolen slice of sourdough, shrugged, “Serves him right. No way Bulstrode was ever gonna bag a babe like (L/N). He’s got the charm of a wet napkin.”

“And get this,” Blaise said, lowering his voice into a tone of mock-conspiracy, eyes glinting, “Rumor is—she had a lover on the side. Secret romance, hidden rendezvous, the whole nine yards. Some bloke she’s apparently been in love with for ages. No one knows who, though.”

Theo, face still hidden by the couch cushions, flinched.

Blaise squinted at him, “You look... twitchy. Something you wanna share with the group?”

Before Theo could invent an excuse, a sound cut through the room—soft footsteps padding across the floorboards.

The guest bedroom door creaked open.

You stepped out, bleary-eyed, rubbing your face with the sleeve of Theo’s oversized hoodie—his hoodie that hung off your frame like it had been stitched for you. Your hair was tousled from sleep, legs bare, the joggers you’d worn the night before still draped over a chair in the corner, clearly forgotten.

Theo’s eyes flicked up to you for a moment—heart skipping a beat at the sight of your flushed cheeks and mussed hair—but he quickly masked the softness with a cool, unreadable glance.

Every sound in the room died on cue.

You blinked at the kitchen full of frozen Slytherins and offered a sheepish smile, “Um… morning?”

The silence that followed was nothing short of reverent.

Mattheo dropped his toast. Lorenzo’s jaw unhinged. Draco choked on a strawberry. Blaise turned—slowly, dramatically—to Theo with the grin of a man who had just unearthed a scandal.

And then—chaos.

“No bloody way,” Blaise said, pointing an accusatory finger, “You?! You’re the lover?!”

“No, no,” Theo said immediately, sitting up straighter, “She’s not—I mean, it’s not— It’s not like that.”

You nodded, “It’s really not what it looks like.”

“She’s not—” Theo added, standing abruptly.

“We’re not—” You said at the same time.

“Dating.” You both finished in unison.

The pause that followed was only broken by Blaise’s slow, disbelieving laugh, “You two seriously rehearsed that or something?”

Mattheo’s gaze flicked from you, to the hoodie, to Theo’s bedhead and thoroughly disheveled state, “You sly, secretive little bastard.”

“You’re blushing,” Lorenzo cackled, pointing at Theo.

“I’m not blushing.”

“You’re so red your freckles are blending in.”

“You lot need to leave,” Theo growled, yanking the mug out of Draco’s hand.

“Oh, we’ll leave,” Mattheo said, standing with an exaggerated sigh, “Just as soon as we finish processing the greatest plot twist since Dumbledore kicked it.”

“I don’t know,” Lorenzo mused, “This might top it. Runaway bride finds solace in former classmate’s bed—”

“Spare room!” You and Theo barked at once.

“Oh right,” Blaise said, lazily gesturing to you, “Because that totally explains the no-pants situation.”

You threw up your hands, “He doesn’t have any trousers that fit me!”

Mattheo let out a low whistle, “Stars above, I wish I had popcorn.”

Theo’s jaw clenched, “She needed a place to stay. I offered. That’s it.”

“And I accepted. Platonically.” You stressed.

“And Theodore isn’t some adulterous whore,” You added with a sigh, “He’s just an unfortunate bloke with terrible timing who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The way your voice softened at the end made something twist in Theo’s chest.

“Well, you did good,” Lorenzo said, grabbing another slice of bread, “Bulstrode’s an ugly git anyway.”

You shared a glance with Theo who gave you a soft, barely there smile that was meant to reassure you in a way that conveyed, 'See? What you did wasn't so bad.'

“So what’s the plan now?” Blaise asked, eyeing the two of you over his coffee, “You two just gonna keep playing house?”

“Oi, ease up,” Theo said, casting him a warning look, “Don’t overwhelm her.”

He glanced at you briefly, then added, “We talked last night.”

“Ooo, pillow talk.” Mattheo smirked—earning himself a slap to the back of the head.

Theo rolled his eyes, “We were talking, and I offered to let her stay here. As long as she needs.”

You caught Theo’s eye and saw a softness there that only came out when he looked at you. In that moment, the chaos of friends and gossip faded away, leaving just the quiet promise of safety and belonging between you two.

***

You sat cross-legged on the floor, the open suitcase in front of you spilling out clothes, books, and a few small trinkets you’d brought from your old life. The boxes stacked neatly nearby were still untouched—silent reminders that this was real, that you were here now.

Getting your things back from your home had been easier than expected. You’d slipped in while your father was at work, your heart racing as you moved quietly through the familiar halls. The moment your hand wrapped around your wand—left behind for safekeeping during the wedding—it felt like you could finally breathe again. You packed up your life swiftly, shrinking and sending each box to Theo’s flat before you could second-guess yourself.

“It feels weird seeing all my stuff here.” You murmured, running your fingers over your old Slytherin scarf. A soft smile tugged at your lips as memories from Hogsmeade weekends and late-night gossip sessions filled your head. Back in school, your dormmates used to call dibs on the boys in your year—Pansy obviously claimed Draco, Daphne was hell-bent on Mattheo (she had a thing for bad boys, she used to say). The others squabbled over Blaise and Lorenzo, leaving you with Theo by default. You’d taken it in stride, because Merlin forbid you end up with Crabbe or Goyle. If only sixth-year you knew you’d one day be living with Theo Nott after bolting from your own wedding.

“Like this is really happening.” You said softly.

Theo leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching you with a look you couldn’t quite place. You let your eyes rake over him—how he somehow made jeans and a simple black long-sleeved tee look sinfully good without even trying.

“Don’t you want to unpack?” He asked after a moment, voice casual, “Make it feel a bit more like yours?”

You shook your head, teeth tugging at your lower lip, “I don’t want to get too comfortable. I need to move out soon, find my own place. Can’t just settle in someone else’s flat.”

Your eyes drifted to the empty dresser and the bare walls, imagining them filled with your perfume bottles, your shoes lined up in the closet, your keepsakes resting in quiet corners of the room. It felt… indulgent. And dangerous.

Theo pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room with that quiet confidence that always made your stomach flip. He crouched beside you, fingers brushing yours as he gently pulled the scarf from your hands.

“Don’t be so pressured,” He said softly, “Take your time.”

Your breath caught at the tenderness in his voice, so at odds with the sarcasm he usually deflected with. His gaze held yours—warm, steady, unflinching.

“What kind of fake adulterous whore would I be,” he added, smirking just a little, “if I didn’t give you a comfortable place to stay while you figure things out?”

You let out a shaky laugh, swatting his arm as your cheeks flushed. The warmth in his eyes made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear. It felt... safe. For the first time in a long time.

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering just a second too long. Your breath hitched. Your heart thudded. And before you could stop yourself, your gaze flicked to his mouth.

The moment hung there—suspended and fragile—until it broke like glass.

Theo cleared his throat and pulled back. You dropped your gaze and fanned your burning cheeks, pretending not to notice the way your entire body buzzed with unspoken tension.

He stood, casting a quick glance around the room before his eyes landed on a box labeled “Bathroom.” With a quiet smile, he bent to pick it up.

“I’ll go put this over there.” He said, voice gentler now even though you both were well aware he could've used his magic to charm the objects in its place.

You watched him go, heart fluttering wildly in your chest, feeling strangely steady for the first time in days.

Strangely at home.

***

Watching Theo get ready for work every morning had become your newest, most humbling routine. In the quiet hours before he left—hair perfectly styled, cufflinks glinting faintly in the sunlight—you were struck with the growing realization that your life was a blank page. And not in the hopeful, inspiring way. No, it felt like staring at an overdue assignment you had no idea how to finish.

When he was home, everything felt a little easier—light conversation over breakfast, quiet companionship in the evenings, his effortless presence filling the flat with a calm you hadn’t realized you craved. But once he was out the door, you were left with hours that stretched out like an endless, silent ache. And with that ache came the inevitable realization: you weren’t here to play house with Theodore Nott. You needed to get your life in order.

Which was why, this morning, you were dressed. Not just dressed—put together. A soft, Chanel-inspired ensemble hugged your form, elegant and mature, polished right down to the glossy sheen of your lips.

Across the table, Theo sat in his usual tailored suit and tie, sipping his coffee while reading the newspaper.

He was a dream roommate—unbothered, polite, attentive without being invasive. He cooked most mornings and evenings, and you handled lunch and dishes out of principle more than anything else. And yet, no matter how well you split the duties, you still felt like a freeloader in silk pajamas. He never asked you to contribute, never brought up rent or groceries or anything at all.

Which, ironically, only made the guilt settle heavier in your chest.

It was unbearable. So this newfound spark of motivation—this desire to prove you could stand on your own two feet again—burned fast and hot.

He was fixing his watch by the mirror beside the door, running gelled fingers through his hair, smoothing it back with that practiced grace. You stepped over, holding his coat in one hand and yours in the other, and offered it to him with a quiet, “Here.”

He murmured a small thanks as he slipped into it, but you didn’t step back.

Instead, you reached up to adjust his tie, fingers deft as you corrected the slight tilt in the knot. “I know you’re just going to mess it up the second you get to the office,” you said, smiling softly, “but it’s driving me crazy.”

You smoothed the tie down gently, fingertips brushing the lapels of his coat. When your eyes lifted, you caught him staring—not at your eyes, but your lips, still slick with gloss from your post-breakfast touch-up, and suddenly it felt like a mistake to stand this close, in this kind of silence, with him looking at you like that.

You met his gaze. Your heart stuttered.

Was he leaning in?

Or were you imagining it—some cruel trick your body played when it got too used to his scent, his proximity, the low hum of affection that vibrated just beneath the surface?

Before you could answer, he inhaled sharply and stepped back, the moment snapping like a taut string.

“Busy day today?” He asked, voice neutral, composed.

You cleared your throat, recovering quickly.

“Yeah,” You said, grabbing your purse and your coat, avoiding his eyes, “I’m visiting Slughorn at Hogwarts. I was always good at potions, and he used to favor me—mostly because I always showed up to those ridiculous Slug Club meetings.” You gave a faint chuckle.

“I heard he’s still teaching and struggling to keep up with his personal research. I was kind of his unofficial assistant in seventh year, so… I’m hoping he’ll consider taking me on. As an apprentice or something.”

You kept your tone light, casual, even though your pulse thudded in your throat. You avoided his eyes as you adjusted the strap of your purse.

Theo held the door open for you, and your heart flipped in your chest like it always did when he did things like that without thinking—like it was natural. Like you belonged here.

“Good luck, (Y/N).” He said simply, his voice low but earnest.

You turned your head slightly, offering him a small smile. The way he was looking at you made your steps falter for just a second.

“Thank you.” You said, voice barely above a whisper.

And then you walked on, heels clicking softly on the marble floor, heart fluttering like mad against your ribs.

***

You practically skipped down the stone steps of Hogwarts, the weight of your nervous anticipation completely lifted from your shoulders. The crisp air smelled of old parchment and damp moss, and for once, you didn’t mind. Your cheeks were flushed, your hands clutching the letter Slughorn had scrawled in excitement after your meeting: an official offer to join him as his private research assistant, with the intent of training you to become a certified Potions Master.

Your heart was hammering by the time you reached Theo’s flat, and you didn’t even knock—just flung the door open and stepped inside, calling his name like a storm announcing itself.

“Theo!”

He appeared from the hallway, towel slung over his shoulder, clearly mid-way through drying his hair, shirt sleeves rolled up, “What? Are you okay?”

You beamed so brightly you could’ve lit the whole room with just the force of it, “I got it—I got the position! I’m going to train with Slughorn! He’s taking me on!”

For a second, Theo just blinked at you, frozen in place. Then your words seemed to register fully and he opened his mouth to say something—but before he could, you launched yourself at him.

Your arms flung around his neck, and he caught you with a startled grunt, stumbling back half a step before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, instinctively keeping you upright. You laughed, giddy and breathless against his shoulder, your legs kicking slightly off the ground.

“I knew you would.” He said against your temple, voice low and warm and slightly amused, though the hug he gave you was grounding, solid, and real.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes bright, “I’m going to be a Potions Master.”

Theo’s hands stayed on your waist, his lips twitching into a rare, open smile, “You’re going to be brilliant.”

You didn’t know what possessed you then—maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the way he was still holding you like you were something precious—but you leaned in without thinking and pressed a kiss to his cheek, quick and full of warmth.

Theo blinked, stunned.

You blinked, too, realizing what you just did.

He slowly set you down on your feet, clearing his throat, but the faintest shade of pink had crept up his neck.

"Thank you, Theo." You whispered, looking up at him like he hung the moon in the sky, "For everything."

***

You were halfway through folding the laundry while Theo showered when the door flew open with no warning, the sharp click of heels on hardwood echoing like the cue for a dramatic entrance.

“Surprise, darling!” Pansy announced grandly, stepping into the apartment with a flourish, a pastry box in one hand and designer sunglasses in the other, “I brought macarons from that place you liked in Paris—Theo, you better be decent!”

She strutted into the living room expecting to find her best friend brooding over black coffee, muttering about case files or the Ministry’s latest idiocy.

Instead, she found you.

Her heel halted mid-click. Her eyes went wide, lips parting in stunned recognition.

“(Y/N)?”

You blinked, holding a half-folded jumper, “Hi—?”

The pastry box slipped from her fingers, forgotten as she gasped.

“(Y/N)!”

Before you could react, she barreled across the room, arms wide, heels thudding across the floor. She crashed into you with a hug that nearly knocked you into the couch, her perfume wrapping around you like a familiar blanket as she squeezed you breathless.

You laughed, arms wrapping around her just as tightly, “Oh God, I’m so sorry I didn’t make it to the wedding! I couldn’t get a Portkey in time—I felt awful. I’ve missed you so much!”

Pansy pulled back to get a proper look at you, holding you at arm’s length like she needed to confirm you were real, “Oh, how’s newlywed life treating you? How’s your husband—” she started brightly, then trailed off.

Her eyes scanned your outfit—comfy shorts and an old Quidditch tee—and then flicked to the half-folded laundry scattered across the coffee table.

And that was precisely the moment Theo stepped out of the bathroom.

Shirtless. Damp. Joggers slung low on his hips. A towel around his neck, his hair still dripping.

Pansy blinked. You blinked. Theo froze like a deer in headlights.

Her eyes snapped between you and Theo. Once. Twice.

Her jaw dropped.

“No. Bloody. Way.”

You swallowed hard, “I, uh... I ran from the altar. I’ve been living here for a month. Surprise?”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“You absolute plonkers!” Pansy shouted, whirling around like a furious peacock as the front door opened again and the rest of the boys filtered in—Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, Enzo—all pausing mid-step at the scene.

Theo grimaced.

Pansy turned on Draco with fury, “You ranted to me for an hour last night about Potter’s work ethic, but you didn’t think to mention that one of my closest friends from school ran out of her own wedding and moved in with Theo?”

Draco’s eyes widened, “I thought you knew!”

“You lot are unbelievable.” She huffed, throwing her hands up.

Draco looked caught somewhere between amusement and panic. Blaise choked on a laugh. Mattheo raised his hands in mock innocence.

Pansy, eyes glittering with mischief, turned back to you with an exasperated scoff, “We’re getting drinks tonight. You and I are going to unpack every bloody bit of this madness. And if there’s any scandal you’re hiding from me, I swear to Merlin—”

You gave her a sheepish smile, heart fluttering with the kind of warmth that only old friendships could bring.

“I wish. But I can’t tonight. I’m working with Slughorn now—officially—and I’ve got my first full day tomorrow. Still need to study up a bit. I really don’t want to get fired before I even make it to lunch.”

Pansy’s features softened instantly. She stepped forward, cupping your cheeks with warm hands and smoothing your hair in a way that made your eyes sting.

“Slughorn?” She breathed, proud and a little misty, “You’re working with Slughorn? That’s incredible. I’m so proud of you.”

Your throat tightened, “Thanks, Pansy. God, I missed you. Let’s do a proper catch-up this weekend, yeah? I don’t want to keep you from your homecoming party—you should go have fun.”

She nodded and pulled you into one last tight hug. “This weekend,” she warned playfully, “or I swear I’ll come kidnap you from this flat myself.”

You laughed, hugging her back, “Deal.”

Just then, Theo reappeared in the living room, now fully dressed and slipping his watch onto his wrist. He reached for his coat, but you were already there, stepping behind him to help him shrug it on.

“Don’t you have to be up early tomorrow?” You asked gently, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve.

From behind you, Blaise gave a low whistle.

“Ooooh, listen to that,” Mattheo drawled with a teasing grin, “Wifey’s making sure the hubby gets to bed on time.”

Theo rolled his eyes, already used to these jokes and glanced down at you, a quiet smile pulling at his lips, “It’s just one drink.”

You sighed, half amused, half resigned, “Okay. Just… don’t come home completely smashed.”

“No promises.” He said with a wink, and the door shut behind them seconds later.

***

The bar buzzed with the low hum of chatter, clinking glasses, and a jazz cover of a Weird Sisters song playing over the speakers. The group had claimed a corner booth, drinks in hand, laughter spilling over every few minutes.

Theo nursed a firewhisky, sitting back with his usual composed expression which caught the attention of Mattheo, “Oh, don’t drink that too fast, Teddy boy. You don’t want to go back absolutely hammered to the missus.”

“You lot are ridiculous,” Theo muttered, though a hint of fondness softened his tone.

“Oh, come off it,” Blaise grinned, swirling his drink, “You like it. You’re practically glowing these days. It’s very unnerving.”

“Very domestic of you, Theo,” Enzo added, smirking, “Sharing a flat, cooking her breakfast, letting her steal your clothes—”

“She doesn’t steal my clothes.”

Mattheo grinned, “Mate, I saw her wearing your Chudley Cannons jumper yesterday.”

Theo looked away, clearly caught.

Pansy took a slow sip of her cocktail, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Honestly, I’m shocked you let her stay with you. You’re usually so…” She waved a perfectly manicured hand, “emotionally unavailable. Allergic to company, really.”

Blaise leaned in, eyes gleaming, “I mean hardly a surprise considering how badly gone he was for her back in school.”

Pansy froze mid-sip.

“Wait—what? Who was gone for who?!” she gasped, nearly slamming her glass on the table, voice sharp with disbelief.

The boys blinked in surprise.

“You didn’t know?” Draco asked, brows raised.

“You’re kidding,” Blaise said, laughing, “You always shoved them into group projects and made them sit together during dinners — we thought you were matchmaking!”

“I was!” Pansy snapped, whipping around to glare at Draco, “Because I wanted to go with you, and the other cows in our dorm had already called dibs on Enzo, Mattheo, and Blaise. Theo was just—left!”

She turned back to the table, eyes wide with the horror of missed opportunity, “Don’t you think if I’d known he fancied her, I would’ve shoved them into a broom cupboard and locked the door?”

Mattheo cackled, “That’s so on-brand for you.”

Pansy groaned, dramatically dropping her head onto Draco’s shoulder, “You absolute wankers. If one of you had opened your mouth years ago, that wedding she had a month ago? Could’ve been yours, Theo.”

Theo sipped his firewhisky quietly, hidden behind the rim of his glass. Flashes of you in a wedding dress and veil flickered behind his eyes, a soft blush spreading across his neck. None of them missed it.

Blaise nudged Mattheo, “He’s thinking about it now.”

“Oh, he’s been thinking about it.”

Theo threw his head back, downing the rest of his firewhiskey in one go, “I need another drink.”

***

The door flew open with a crash, nearly coming off its hinges.

“We have arrived!” Lorenzo declared, clearly drunk, arms wide, as if expecting applause.

Theo stumbled in between Blaise and Mattheo, arms slung over their shoulders like a war hero being carried off the battlefield. His shirt was half-untucked, hair a mess, and his eyes—when he managed to open them—were glassy and unfocused.

You poked your head out from the kitchen, arms crossed, “What happened to ‘just one drink’?”

“He drank.” Blaise said simply.

“Like a fish.” Mattheo added.

“Like a moron.” Draco corrected as he strolled in behind them, tossing Theo’s coat over a chair, “He’s your problem now.”

Theo blinked at the sound of your voice and perked up immediately. “Tesoro!” He slurred, trying to walk toward you but very nearly face-planting into the floor. You caught him under the arm just in time.

“Hi, Theo,” You said softly, “Oh gosh you smell like bad decisions.”

“You need to eat,” You added, “Something starchy. Or you’re going to feel like roadkill tomorrow.”

“He never eats when he’s like this,” Blaise said from where he was sprawled over a kitchen chair, “We’ve tried. It’s hopeless.”

“Chi mangia bene, vive bene, remember?” You said softly, probably butchering his mother's saying as you guided Theo toward the table.

That stopped him. His gaze sharpened just enough to find your eyes.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours with a quiet breath, “E chi ha te… ha tutto.”

Your heart skipped even though you hadn't a clue what he just said.

Mattheo made an exaggerated gagging noise, “Okay, Casanova, wrap it up.”

Draco, grinning, gave you a mock bow, “He’s all yours. Good luck with drunk Shakespeare.”

As the door shut behind them, Theo was still leaning on you, breathing you in like he needed your scent to stay upright.

“You smell like a distillery.” You said, amused.

“You smell like home.” He mumbled.

Your cheeks warmed, and you pushed the plate gently into his lap, “Eat your toast, Romeo.”

***

The bar was warm and golden, tucked away on a cobbled side street with velvet booths and enchanted candles flickering lazily overhead. You and Pansy had claimed a prime table by the window, cocktails already half-finished and a bowl of enchanted peanuts floating between you, occasionally popping like popcorn.

“I swear,” Pansy said, leaning in conspiratorially, “if Draco mentions his new wand polish one more time, I will hex him bald.”

You snorted into your drink, eyes gleaming, “You wouldn’t. You like running your hands through his hair too much.”

She grinned, “Touché. But I’d still threaten it. Keeps him humble.”

It was the first proper girls’ night out you’d had in what felt like forever, and Pansy — ever the scene-stealing, chaos-bringing goddess she was — made it feel like the war, the heartbreak, and everything in between had never happened.

“So,” She drawled, resting her chin on her palm with a wicked glint in her eye, “Tell me everything. Are you dating? Shagging? Secretly married? Come on, give me the details.”

You laughed, swirling the pink liquid in your glass — some fruity, glittering cocktail you hadn’t tasted since your Hogwarts days. It cooled your fingers while your cheeks burned hotter by the second.

You rolled your eyes, trying to bite back your smile, “It’s not like that, Pans. We’re just good friends. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have made it this far without him.”

“Oh darling,” She said with mock pity, “it’s always ‘not like that’ until you’re wearing his jumpers and catching feelings.”

You opened your mouth to object—but the words caught in your throat. You had worn his jumper. You were catching feelings.

Pansy’s eyes widened. She gasped, clutching her chest with dramatic flair, “No. No way. You like him.”

“I didn’t say that." You muttered.

“You didn’t have to!” She squealed, grabbing your hands across the table, “Oh, you poor lovesick thing. I knew it. I knew it!”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, “You are insufferable.”

“I’m right, though,” She sang smugly, taking another sip of her drink, “And I actually happen to know that our dear Teddy has been—”

“(Y/N).”

The voice cut through the air like a curse.

You froze.

Pansy’s glass paused halfway to her lips. Her smile vanished.

Your blood ran cold. You didn’t have to look to know who it was — that voice had once lived in your dreams. Now it only haunted your nightmares.

Slowly, you turned in your seat.

And saw your ex-fiancé standing at the edge of your table.

You stared up at him, heart thudding so hard it felt like it might crack your ribs. He looked mostly the same — slicked-back hair that tried too hard to look effortless, a coat more expensive than it was tasteful, and that same smirk he always wore like armor. His jaw was tighter now, clenched like he hadn’t unclenched it in months. His eyes were cold, sunken a little, and mean in a way they didn’t even bother to hide.

“I didn’t expect to find you here.” He said, voice low, razor-edged.

Pansy was on her feet before you could speak, stepping in front of you like a drawn wand. “And yet here you are,” She said, all sugar and venom, “Funny how you manage to show up where no one wants you.”

He didn’t even glance at her. His eyes stayed locked on you, “We need to talk.”

“No, we really don’t,” Pansy snapped, “Back off before I hex your bits so far inward you’ll need a St. Mungo’s specialist to find them.”

“Pansy,” you murmured, brushing your fingers against her sleeve. Your hand was shaking.

He took a step closer, “Just five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You rose slowly, pushing your chair back, jaw tight, “Fine. Five minutes. Nothing more.”

“Absolutely not—” Pansy began, but you shook your head.

“I’m okay.”

You weren’t. Not even remotely. But you needed this to end. To really end.

The night air was sharp against your skin, the hum of the city muffled as you stepped into the alley behind the bar. You folded your arms, more out of defense than cold.

“So this is what it takes to find you now?” He said, voice curling with disdain, “Are you selling yourself like a whore on street corners now?”

You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your voice steady, “What do you want?”

He took a step forward, “I heard the rumors. People talk, you know. Especially when a bride vanishes in silk and ends up playing house with that filthy blood traitor Theodore Nott.”

Your lips parted in disbelief.

“I should’ve known,” he sneered, “You always acted so self-righteous. But look at you now — just another slag hopping into the next man’s bed. Must be nice not needing vows to spread your legs, yeah?”

The words hit like a slap, your stomach twisting with fury and disbelief.

“I’m done listening to this.”

You turned—and before you could even brace yourself, he yanked you sharply by the collar and slammed you hard against the brick wall. The air whooshed out of your lungs as your back hit the cold surface, the impact jarring your entire body.

His hands tightened suddenly around your throat, fingers digging into your skin in a cruel grip. You gasped for air, panic surging as darkness edged your vision.

“Don’t you dare think you can just walk away from me.” He hissed through clenched teeth, eyes wild and merciless.

You clawed at his hands, desperate to break free, but his strength was overwhelming, pressing down harder, choking the breath from you.

"Reducto!"

The spell hit him square in the chest, blasting him off you with bone-jarring force. He flew backward, crashing into the far wall of the alley with a sickening thud before collapsing in a heap, gasping and stunned.

Pansy didn’t hesitate.

She stormed toward him like a vengeful shadow, wand leveled between his eyes as he groaned and tried to sit up. Her voice was shaking—but only with rage.

“You filthy little coward,” she spat, every word laced with venom, “Touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

He growled, trying to rise—Pansy kicked him flat in the chest, knocking him back to the ground with her heel, “Stay. Down.”

Your knees buckled, the sudden rush of oxygen burning your throat as you slid down the wall, coughing and trembling.

“Whoa—hey.” Pansy caught you, strong and certain, one arm steadying you as the other clutched her wand, “I’ve got you, love. You’re okay. We’re going home.”

And this time, you let her carry the weight.

***

The world spun sharply as Pansy apparated, the crack of displaced air still echoing in your ears. The warmth of her body vanished the moment your feet hit solid ground—wood floors, familiar scents. You were in Theo’s flat.

Laughter and chatter from the living room fell to a jarring halt.

Five pairs of eyes turned in unison: Theo, Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, and Enzo—all frozen mid-conversation, drinks in hand. The moment they saw you, everything dropped.

“(Y/N)?”

Your name left Theo like a punch to the gut.

You were trembling, arms wrapped tight around your middle as if they could hold your ribs together. Pansy still held onto you, as if she wasn’t entirely sure you wouldn’t collapse, and even she looked rattled under the scrutiny of the room.

“That fucker,” She said through gritted teeth, “Grabbed her outside the bar. Slammed her into a wall. Tried to—” her voice faltered, thick with fury, “She couldn’t breathe.”

Theo moved.

Fast.

He crossed the room in three strides, gently brushing Pansy aside like she was made of smoke. Then he was in front of you, hands hovering for a split second before he cupped your face, cradling you like you were something fragile and sacred.

His eyes roamed over your features—your split lip, your glassy eyes, the bruising fingerprints beginning to bloom like violets around your throat—and something in him shattered.

His jaw clenched, fury crashing through him like a tidal wave. He looked like he could tear the world apart.

“I’m fine.” You rasped, voice barely more than a whisper.

You tried to smile—a brittle, curling thing, “I know that probably doesn’t help my case, but… trust me, I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that,” Theo said softly, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, his voice hoarse and tight, “Don’t lie to me right now.”

Your breath hitched.

Draco hovered beside Pansy now, brushing her hair behind her ear as he muttered something only she could hear. She nodded once, giving her boyfriend a soft smile before turning her gaze back to you, eyes gleaming with steel.

Theo gently tugged you forward into his chest.

You didn’t resist.

You couldn’t.

Your limbs had surrendered somewhere between the alley and the flat, and he was warm, steady—home. Before you could stop it, a sob cracked loose from your chest, raw and shaking. Your hands fisted into his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to earth.

He held you tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, voice trembling beneath the quiet, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

The flat was eerily quiet now. One by one, the boys filtered out, their faces grim with the weight of what had just happened.

Mattheo lingered just long enough to press a firm, reassuring hand to your shoulder. His voice was low, steady, almost a promise, “You’re safe now. We’ll take care of everything from here.”

Blaise didn’t say a word. Instead, he gave a slow, deliberate nod to Theo, then to you, his expression taut with barely restrained anger and resolve.

Enzo’s jaw clenched as he glanced at you one last time. “He’s a dead man,” he muttered under his breath before turning away and joining the others.

You barely noticed them leaving. Your world had shrunk to the steady rhythm of Theo’s heartbeat humming against your ear, the comforting warmth of his hand pressing into your back, and the ache lodged deep in your chest — a raw, stubborn pain that refused to fade.

“I want him arrested. Tonight.” Pansy’s voice cut through the silence like ice, cold and deadly calm but laced with a fury that made the room vibrate, “Draco, I’m serious. He attacked her in public. Slammed her against a wall. Choked her until she could barely breathe.”

Draco’s tone was clipped, measured, but the sharp edge of anger was unmistakable, “You have a name?”

“Graham Bulstrode.” Pansy replied without hesitation, her voice razor-sharp and unyielding.

Draco’s jaw tightened, “Consider it done, my love.”

Every word settled into your foggy mind — distant but painfully clear. The tremble in your hands hadn’t stopped, but Theo’s arms wrapped around you only tightened, as if willing to keep the danger at bay. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your head, a quiet vow whispered without words.

When the door finally clicked shut behind the last of the others, the tension finally broke. The tears you had been holding back surged forward, hot and fierce, tumbling freely down your cheeks. You clung to him, the safety of his presence grounding you as the storm inside began to settle.

You buried your face in Theo’s chest, shoulders trembling as the sobs broke free, wracking your entire body with every breath. He held you through it, solid and steady, one hand gently combing through your hair like he could smooth away the terror still clinging to your skin.

“I’m so stupid,” You gasped, the words catching in your throat, “I’ve—I’ve thought about that moment for the past month. What I’d say. How I’d stand up for myself. I imagined throwing that stupid ring back in his smug face, saying something cutting, something final—but when it actually happened…”

Your voice cracked, guilt burning behind your ribs.

“I couldn’t even speak. I just froze. I have a wand but I couldn't cast a single spell. I let him say all that shit about me—about you—and I... I didn’t even defend you, Theo. I’m so sorry. I'm so useless.”

He didn’t answer right away.

He just held you tighter, like your apology hurt more than anything else that had happened. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet—gentle, but resolute.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His words rumbled in his chest, warm against your cheek.

“I don’t give a damn about what you said or didn’t say to him. You don’t owe me a defense—not ever.”

You looked up at him, blinking through the tears. His eyes found yours, fierce and heartbreakingly soft, like you were something sacred—something he’d never let break.

“And you’re not stupid, (Y/N), or useless,” He said, voice thick with emotion, “You’re incredible. Brave. Stronger than you even realize. And I’m so fucking proud of you.”

His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead—gentle, grounding, safe.

“He’s not going to get away with this,” Theo whispered, “I promise you.”

You sighed, sinking deeper into him, like you could finally let go of everything you’d been holding in. His arms wrapped around you again, warm and sure.

“Come on,” he murmured, “Let’s treat that bruise. Get you something to eat.”

But you shook your head, face pressed tight against his chest.

“Don’t let me go.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore—it was tender, healing. You curled into him like you could disappear there, into the rhythm of his breathing and the thrum of his heart.

“I’m never going to let you go.”

And you believed him.

His heartbeat echoed beneath your ear, strong and unwavering. With every beat, the weight in your chest began to lift—slowly, steadily.

Safe. Loved. Finally, home.

***

A couple weeks later it was raining softly outside, the kind of slow, constant drizzle that blurred the windows and made the world feel far away. You and Theo were curled up on the couch, legs tangled, a blanket lazily thrown across your laps. A half-empty mug sat abandoned on the coffee table beside a crumpled takeout bag. The telly hummed faintly in the background, long forgotten.

“So then she goes, ‘I forgot to run the control,’” You said, exasperated, “and I swear to Merlin, I have never seen Slughorn that mad in his life.”

Theo snorted, one arm draped across your shoulders, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, “Serves her right for always nicking your freshly ground moonstone.”

“Right? And of course, the one day I’m not there to supervise her, she completely tanks it. It’s not like I was goofing off—I was at the Ministry signing off the paperwork for Bulstrode's trial.” You sighed, “Slughorn knew, so I didn’t get in trouble, but I still have to repeat all her damn trials for the next few weeks. As if I don’t already have enough on my plate.”

“What’s keeping you so busy, Bella?” Theo asked, smiling as he gently unraveled the curl and let it spring back into place, “Maybe I can help.”

“Well, I’ve been needing to check out some apartments. Can’t really leave that to you, now can I?” You yawned, “But if you want, we could go together?”

Theo stilled.

He pulled back just slightly, brows furrowed as he studied your face, “Apartment hunting?”

You blinked, “Yeah… I’ve been looking at places closer to work. Just something small. I mean, I don’t make much yet.”

There was a beat of silence, then, “Wait—(Y/N), are you planning to move out?”

You nodded slowly, suddenly self-conscious, “I mean—I’ve been here for a while now and I love it, obviously, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. I figured—”

“You think you’re overstaying?” His voice cut gently but sharply through your words.

You faltered, “Well, I just—”

“You’re not,” Theo said, a little breathless now, like the words had been sitting on the edge of his tongue for too long, “You’re not overstaying. I want you here.”

Your breath hitched.

“I want to come home to you. Every day. Not to an empty flat. Not to a world where you’re somewhere else.”

His hand found yours, threading your fingers together like a lifeline. His voice dropped lower, steadier.

“Stay. Please.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and sure, “I want to come home knowing the woman I love is safe. Here. With me.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, the world narrowing to his hand in yours, the soft thunder of rain against the windows, the warmth of his words blooming in your chest like magic.

“What do you mean, the woman you love?”

Theo let out a quiet laugh, a little stunned you hadn’t realized it already. His smile turned lopsided, eyes shining.

“Are you daft, (Y/N)?” He said, voice thick, “I’m in love with you. I’ve been taken with you since we were kids, and I’m still—” He broke off for a breath, like the truth was catching up to him all at once. “Still completely gone for you.”

Your heart did something unsteady in your chest.

“Say it again.” You whispered.

He cupped your cheek with one hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your heart stuttered. The words lingered in the air between you, delicate and heavy all at once—like the hush after a spell’s been cast.

You didn’t look away.

You couldn’t.

“I’ve loved you for a long time too, Theo,” You whispered, the confession trembling on your tongue, “I don’t even know when it started—when I began falling for you—but I did. And I fell hard. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

You smiled through the softness in your voice, “You’re the kindest, most patient man I’ve ever met… and I’m thanking my lucky stars that I met you on the day of my wedding.”

That pulled a laugh from him—warm, full, and brimming with disbelief. He tilted his head back slightly, grinning like you’d just handed him the entire sky.

You leaned in just a fraction, voice softer now, “I want to stay. Not just in the flat. In your life. With you.”

That did it.

Theo closed the distance, his hands cradling your face as his lips found yours in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was fierce and tender all at once—like a dam breaking, like every moment of yearning pouring out of him in one breathless, burning exhale.

You melted into him, arms winding around his neck, your body pressed close as the kiss deepened—hungry now, desperate. His fingers tangled in your hair, yours fisting in his shirt, both of you trying to memorize the moment, to feel every inch of it like it could make up for all the waiting.

Weeks—months—of unspoken words, of lingering touches and stolen glances, of intimate moments that always ended with breathless silences and aching restraint—crashed into a single breath.

Theo kissed you like you were his lifeline—like he’d been holding back a storm and had finally been given permission to let it break.

You gasped as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, your throat—reverent, hungry, like he was rediscovering you with every breath. “Tell me to stop,” He murmured, voice hoarse with restraint, “Say the word, and I will.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you tugged him closer, heart pounding under his palm as your fingers slid into his hair, voice trembling with a dangerous sort of affection, “If you stop, Theodore Nott, I’m sleeping at Pansy’s tonight.”

He let out a low, incredulous laugh—half-choked and fully wrecked—then kissed you again, deeper this time. Certain. Claiming. The rain tapped gently against the windows, forgotten behind the haze of fogged glass and the thrum of two hearts finally letting go.

And when he lifted you off the couch, carrying you down the hall with all the tenderness in the world and not an ounce of hesitation, the only thing either of you could think was:

About bloody time.

***

It was barely 9 a.m. when the front door to Theo’s flat creaked open—again, without so much as a knock.

Mattheo’s voice cut through the quiet, “I swear, if this idiot didn’t do the groceries and we hiked all the way here for his strawberries for nothing, I’m setting the place on fire.”

“I brought croissants.” Lorenzo offered brightly.

“You brought them from my kitchen,” Draco said flatly, “You literally stole them from my counter.”

Theo stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Do none of you understand the concept of boundaries?”

He was mid-scowl when Blaise’s voice drifted in from the hallway, “Don't you imbeciles think it's too early to—”

And then they all fell silent.

You had just stepped out of the bedroom—the master bedroom this time, not the guest room—bleary-eyed and yawning, wearing nothing but Theo’s hoodie. Again. Hair a little messy, legs bare, looking entirely at home.

Draco blinked, “Déjà vu.”

Mattheo let out a dramatic sigh, “Alright, but like… why is it always the hoodie and no pants? Not that I’m complaining—it’s just, you know what, never mind.”

Blaise leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, “So what’s the excuse this time? Sleepwalking? Laundry explosion? Sudden amnesia about how trousers work?”

You didn’t even flinch.

“We’re dating,” You said flatly, tugging the sleeve of Theo’s hoodie over your hand as you rubbed your eye, “And I’m not wearing pants because I had sex with your friend. Good morning.”

Silence.

Four pairs of stunned eyes stared at you.

Lorenzo made a choked noise, “I—okay.”

Mattheo sputtered, hands flailing, “You can’t just say that without warning!”

“You asked.” You replied dryly.

Draco took a long sip of coffee, muttering behind the rim of his mug, “I owe Pansy ten Galleons.”

***

Bonus:

Your heart pounded as you stared at the closed doors, the soft strains of the wedding march beginning to drift through the wood. Your palms were sweaty around the bouquet you carried, nerves and excitement swirling in your chest.

Then, the doors swung open, revealing you in a stunning white dress, your smile bright and genuine as you began your walk down the aisle. The hush of the ceremony wrapped around you like a warm embrace, the aisle stretching ahead lined with friends and family.

A memory flickered through your mind—just a couple of years ago, you had run away from a different wedding down the hall, only to find refuge in this very chapel. It was here that you met your to-be husband, the love of your life.

Your eyes locked onto the man standing across the room, looking impossibly handsome in his tailored suit. His gaze locked onto you immediately, and for a moment, all the noise and bustle melted away. It was just you and him.

Only a few feet separated you now, but something in your heart couldn’t wait. Before you realized what you were doing, you broke into a gentle run—this time towards the groom.

Theo’s face broke into a gentle smile—the kind reserved only for you—as he reached for you. Before you could even think twice, his arms closed around you, catching you effortlessly. Your feet lifted from the floor as he spun you gently, twirling you in a slow, perfect circle.

The world blurred—lights, faces, music—all faded into a whirl of warmth and happiness.

He pressed his forehead to yours, a slow smile curling on his lips as he whispered, "You just can't wait to marry me, can you?"

You laughed softly, breath warm against his skin, "I couldn’t run away—tried it before. Too much work."

His eyes sparkled with amusement and love as he pulled you closer, the world around you fading into nothing but this perfect, shared moment.

***

EXTRA BONUS BECAUSE I CAN HEHEHE:

Hogwarts, Year 6:

You glanced across the potions table, scanning the clutter of ingredients before turning slightly toward the Slytherin bench.

“Theodore?” You said cautiously, holding your crushed lacewing flies with gloved fingers, “Could I borrow the asphodel? Just for a sec.”

He looked up from his cauldron like you’d just asked for his wand. There was a pause. Not rude, not angry—just... blank. Then, wordlessly, he slid the jar toward you across the table. His fingers brushed yours for the briefest moment when you took it. Cold skin. A little spark. His hand recoiled like he’d been burned.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” You murmured, blinking.

He just gave a short nod, already turning away, jaw tight as he went back to slicing his valerian root like it had offended him personally.

You blinked again, confused, then padded back over to your side of the room where Pansy was lounging against the workbench like it was a chaise lounge in the Slytherin common room.

She quirked an eyebrow, “What was that?”

You shrugged, a slight pout forming on your lips, “I don’t know. I guess he just really doesn’t like me.”

Pansy snorted, “Please. If Theo really didn’t like you, you’d know.”

Meanwhile, across the room, Theo was absolutely not concentrating on his potion anymore. He was staring blankly into the cauldron, stirring too fast, ears tinged pink.

Your hands just touched.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

@paankhaleyaaar

Harry Potter Taglist:

@downbad4reid

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wwweasleystan · 1 month ago

Text

theodore nott

masterlist • slytherin boys • 03/27/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs two

theodore nott one

𑣲 voodoo doll I @moonpascal

theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him.

𑣲 you’re the closest to heaven i’ll ever be I @amiableness

Reader is getting hit on and Theo is not a fan.

𑣲 only me I @/amiableness

Desperate to get a persistent girl off his back, Enzo and reader kiss. But when the kiss unexpectedly turns heated, Theo loses it.

𑣲 peonies part 2 part 3 I @/amiableness

Reader is devastated when Mattheo gets a girlfriend and asks Theo to help her get over him.

𑣲 withdrawal I @writingsbychlo

theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn’t realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.

𑣲 the best love stories I @/writingsbychlo

theo is in love and doesn’t want to have to hide it.

𑣲 through the wringer I @dramaticals

theo tries to get your attention by spoiling you with gifts. you pretend not to notice the shift just to mess with him.

𑣲 untimely revelations I @/dramaticals

you and theo are at a slug club party and theo has an unfortunate revelation (he likes you).

𑣲 daisy chains I @/dramaticals

daisy chains mean a lot to you, and theo makes you one to tell you how he feels.

𑣲 jealously’s game I @raekensluver

plotting to make your ex jealous at a party, you pick the last person anyone could expect.

𑣲 stalker!theo I @nottsangel

𑣲 drug dealer!theo I @/nottsangel

𑣲 cockwarming!theo I @/nottsangel

𑣲 that’s what i said I @slytherinslut0

your boyfriend was telling you about his day, when he began speaking fluent Italian, knowing damn well you only knew select words. when you asked him to repeat it, he had you come sit on his lap and ended up doing a little more than just repeating it

𑣲 size kink I @/slytherinslut0

there’s a rumor going around that theodore nott has a big dick….why not see it for yourself?

𑣲 lonely I @evergone

The reader has no friends until destiny (in the form of a boy named Theodore Nott) does everything to make her feel like she belongs.

𑣲 devil eyes I @theostrophywife

𑣲 theo surprises you in the prefect bathroom I @motherearthlovesus

𑣲 buried in books I @strangled-slytherin

Theo finds you asleep on your books in the library after a long night of studying and insists on taking care of you.

𑣲 whoopsie I @bunny-1111

You can't help your clumsiness, but when you land with a bruise on your face, you're reminded that your boyfriend Theo really hates to see you hurt.

𑣲 thin ice I @mommynott

Your friends drag you to a hockey game, but halfway through you lock eyes with Theo. You can’t help but feel a strong pull toward him. Deciding to shoot your shot with the player.

𑣲 hot tub I @lov3notts

Theo can't keep his hands off you after seeing you in a swim suit, but lack the privacy to really show you how much craves you, I guess the the hot tub will do for now

𑣲 theo dozing off I @illbegottenfaith

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wwweasleystan · 2 months ago

Text

𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓸 𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓵𝓮 ♡

⟶ 𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓈

⋆ ☾⋆ cold comfort

summary: mattheo has one rule: any girl can share his bed (and there's been plenty) but none can stay the night. when the unexpected happens, and you're begging to be the first, you find out why he had the rule in the first place.

⋆ ☾⋆ riddle's girl

summary: mattheo has...feelings about you wearing his quidditch jersey.

⋆ ☾⋆ the playlist

summary: enzo overhears something about you he shouldn't have and when he tells his friends, all hell breaks loose. ⋆ ☾⋆ veritaserum

summary: when mattheo drinks veritaserum on a bet, he's confident he doesn't have anything to hide… until you show up.

⋆ ☾⋆ obliviate

summary: when voldemort finds out about you and mattheo, he devises the perfect way to keep you apart.

⋆ ☾⋆ the black lake

summary: mattheo is hogwarts' triwizard tournament champion, and he's proven that he can crush the competition. but when the stakes are raised, and you're involved, nothing will get in his way.

⋆ ☾⋆ the new girl (pt.1)

summary: despite their best and most ardent efforts, each of the slytherin boys gets rejected by you, and can't figure out why, not knowing that one of them holds a secret that explains it all.

⋆ ☾⋆ the new girl (pt.2)

summary: you come to find that keeping your situationship with mattheo a secret is harder than you anticipated.

⋆ ☾⋆ tea leaves on christmas eve

summary: you and mattheo agree to have your tea leaves read as a joke, not expecting the surprising message they'd reveal.

⋆ ☾⋆ the apothecary's rebel

summary: hogwarts’ bad boy can’t seem to find a way to stay out of the infirmary where you’re working to become a healer, but as the stakes get higher, you struggle to understand if you’re simply a means to an end, or something much more.

⋆ ☾⋆ of magic and mayhem

summary: the strongest wizard of your age also happens to be hogwarts' playboy, and when he sets his sights on you, you realize neither of you have a choice in the matter. ˋ°•*⁀➷ epilogue

⋆ ☾⋆ three words eight letters

summary: you confessed your feelings to mattheo months ago, and his unwillingness to do the same might be the very thing that breaks you apart for good.

⋆ ☾⋆ ps i love you

summary: mattheo plans an unexpected valentine's day surprise for you

⋆ ☾⋆ dove

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.

⟶ 𝒶𝓊𝓈

coming soon!

⟶ 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈

afternoon nap

sending mattheo innocent pics over winter break

how mattheo uses his magic around you

⟶ 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

mattheo wears a gold chain...

how mattheo would love you in every love language

overprotective & possessive boyfriend!mattheo

how mattheo drives

the type of music mattheo listens to

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wwweasleystan · 2 months ago

Text

welcome to my master list ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!

🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡ free to send requests and asks

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

full fics

mattheo!reader “something softer”

summary: you’re not really friends with mattheo riddle. more like acquaintances who share a few mutuals and the occasional eye contact. he’s known for breaking rules and hearts, not for being helpful. so when he offers to teach you guitar after a passing comment, you don’t question it. but sitting on his bed, fingers tangled in frets and tension, you realize this might not be the casual hang you thought it’d be.

readers & mini fics

...introducing babydoll!reader ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

╰┈➤ mattheo getting babydoll!reader ready for bed

╰┈➤ babydoll!reader cries and mattheo comes running

╰┈➤ babydoll!reader has a nightmare

texting drabbles

╰┈➤ slytherin boys!reader pov: he accidentally texts you how he feels

╰┈➤ slytherin boys!reader pov: he sees u walk in to a slytherin party

╰┈➤ slytherin boys!reader pov: you weren’t in class today

╰┈➤ slytherin boys!reader pov: he misses you after a fight

╰┈➤ mattheo!reader pov: you try the “i’m so hungry i could eat…” trend

that's all for now...with love, chichi ⋆. 𐙚 ˚❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠲⠶⣤⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⡿⠛⠿⡴⠾⠛⢻⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⢀⣿⠐⡿⣿⠿⣶⣤⣤⣷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢯⣡⣿⣿⣀⣸⣿⣦⢓⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠹⣍⣭⣾⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⣀⣸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣷⣤⡀ ⠈⠉⠹⣏⡁⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠆⠀⢀⣸⣇⣀⠀ ⠀⠐⠋⢻⣅⣄⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠯⠽⠂⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⣤⣿⠀⠉⠀ ⠀⠀⠴⠛⠙⣳⠋⠉⠉⠙⣆⠀⠀⢰⡟⠉⠈⠙⢷⠟⠉⠙⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣄⣠⣤⣴⠟⠛⠛⠛⢧⣤⣤⣀⡾

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wwweasleystan · 2 months ago

Text

When I bleed, its not blood but devotion

Pairing: poly!Mattheodore x f!Reader

Summary: You get into a fight and end up in the hospital wing, as is expected. The fight isn’t the problem, it's explaining the reason you decked that moron in the first place to one disappointed Theodore Nott and a gleefully smug Mattheo Riddle.

Warnings: mentions of a fight, description of injuries (not too detailed), cursing, threats of murder and violence, threats of torture, a few sexual innuendos here and there, things get a bit spicy in the last part but nothing much

Content: established poly relationship, Reader is sassy, Theodore being the brain and responsible person in the relationship, Theodore also resorting to Italian because his lovers are dumbasses, Mattheo being am endorser of violence, flustered Theo, fluffy humour, dramatic MattyReader duo

WC: 3.72k

Translations: Bella - beautiful | caro - dear | Porca miseria, perché è sempre così con voi pagliacci? - Holy shit, why is it always like this with you clowns? | stronzi - fuckers | Smettila di iniziare litigi - stop starting fights

AN: took a bit to get this done because its my first time writing a poly relationship but i cant stop thinking about Mattheodore with their girl, lmk what you think 🤍

The hospital wing is quiet, save for the whirring of enchanted apparatuses and Madame Pomfrey’s quiet murmuring. It’s not so bad, you think yourself, having the whole place to yourself. The bed you’re assigned to is right across the window, so you get to watch first years fall off their brooms with glee. Really, you struck gold with being here; everyone else is stuck in their respective classes or studying in the library, enduring the stifling heat and moisture, while you get to laze about in here with the cooling spells keeping the oncoming spring heat out. It’s of course totally irrelevant to mention that you can barely move without the dull thumping of pain in your sides restricting your movements, or breathe without struggling because of your busted nose.

A small price to pay for the luxurious skipping opportunity, you decide, and you already plan what kind of excuses you’ll throw around when you sneak to your table later at dinner. You’d rather not be subjected to your friends’ fussing, or worse, your boyfriends’ lectures and worrisome nature. They simply can’t find out you got into a fight and ended up in the hospital wing, you decide grimly, already scheming who to threaten and silence, lest rumours about your little altercation reach their ears.

Much to your dismay however, your little peaceful hideout is rudely infiltrated by the slam of the big double doors, half startling you off the bed. At the open doors, you spot the disheveled form of Mattheo Riddle, his messy hair half sticking to his sweaty forehead as he frantically surveys the room in search of something, or rather someone. Behind him, you can make out Theodore’s figure running down the hall, presumably in an attempt to catch up to him, and you can almost imagine his frustrated huff when Mattheo spots you and immediately darts off to your bed.

You brace yourself for the inevitable collision with the speed at which Mattheo is running towards you, squeezing your eyes tightly so you at least won’t futilely attempt to escape, but the impact never hits. A strangled noise catches your attention and so you crack one eye open, gasping at the comical sight. Theodore somehow managed to catch up to Mattheo, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, much like a mother kitten would with its rowdy children, and is now holding him back while he kicks and swats to be freed.

The sight truly is amusing, a flurry of giggles escaping you as you watch Mattheo struggle in his boyfriend’s grasp, kicking and cursing to be let go. The action however, brings you immediate pain and regret, the potions Poppy pumped you full with still not in enough effect to numb the pain.

Your pained whimper immediately has your two boys alarmed, and in his worry, Theo releases Mattheo. The latter is by your side in seconds, his brows furrowed and his pretty brown eyes darkened by the anxiety your state must be causing him.

“What happened?” He asks, hands hovering unsurely by your side. It must take a lot of restraint for him to touch you, because Mattheo never passes up an opportunity to cling to you, whether for his own pleasure or to comfort you. Theo sighs, ruffling the other boy’s hair before yanking him away from you.

“Give her some space,” he quips dryly, completely ignoring Mattheo’s protests. He’s more composed than his other third, and if you didn’t know him so well, he could’ve almost fooled you into thinking he didn’t really care about the whole ordeal. But there are those little telltale signs, like the way his robes are crooked, very obviously haphazardly thrown over, or the way his ears are ever so slightly red from worry. His hands continually twitch with the need for action by his side, and his blue eyes never once leave your injured form on the bed, taking in every single gush and bandage, cataloging them away for when he would help you take care of them, whether you wanted to or not.

He rounds the bed, settling on the other side before gently placing his hand on your knee, his thumb tracing soothing circles in the skin.

“What trouble did you get into now, bella?” He muses exasperated. Mattheo makes a half offended noise, taking his wand out and muttering a spell that has your bed extending to accommodate three people on one bed. Immediately, he props himself on your left side, his fingers ghosting over your forehead. He traces along the uninjured spots of your face, his touch lighter than a feather, dutifully keeping from any places that might hurt. Countless fights have rendered him somewhat a professional in understanding pain, the knowledge now handy in pouring his affection as carefully as possible.

Their sudden appearance is a bit overwhelming, the intensity of their gaze, blue and brown eyes that never stray from your face, rendering you speechless. Even if you wanted to explain the situation —which you really don’t want too—, you couldn’t. The words get stuck in your throat, leaving you to open and close your mouth like a desperate fish out of the water.

Still, they wait with never ending patience, their hands offering soothing comfort as they silently coax you into talking to them, drawing you out of your defensive shell with not a speck of accusation or judgment.

“I got into a fight,” you finally manage to mumble, a failed attempt at sounding casual. It isn’t a big deal, at least to you, but the two of them clearly don’t share the sentiment. Mattheo's posture immediately stiffens, his jaw tensing with hot red anger. “Names,” he almost barks, “give me names right fucking now.” His reaction is dramatic, too much and you turn to the responsible one between you three, hoping Theo might be able to help you talk Mattheo into calming down. Your hopes are cruelly crushed into nothing, because Theo radiates pure bloodlust, on par with Mattheo’s rage, his hand grasping the bed sheets so tightly you can barely tell his knuckles from the white fabric apart.

“It’s no big deal,” you huff, leaning forward to flick the both of them on the forehead. The action seems to snap them out of their murderous thoughts, the both of them throwing you offended looks as they rub the sore spot. “Seriously, Poppy said it looks worse than it actually is.”

On cue, the matron of the ward steps out of her office, her eyes furrowing disapprovingly at the sight of the three of you huddled on the bed, but she is used to this by now from all the times you stuck around when either one of you got hurt. She lets it go ever so graciously, stepping closer and performs spell-work over you that engulfs your body in a silver shimmer. Theodore watches with utmost attention, as if attempting to read the matron’s mind and willing the magic to heal you faster. Mattheo watches you instead, intensely observing any indicators of pain and only relaxes when the magic leaves you visibly more relaxed than before.

“She should be all good to go in a few hours,” Poppy declares, “some bruising and swelling, a busted nose that will heal quickly and two cracked ribs that we fixed earlier.” With a quiet accio she instantly has three vials floating near her, all which she hands to Theodore with such naturalness, not sparing you a second glance, it kind of leaves you baffled.

“Have her take this three times a day,” she points to the vial with acid green liquid, “and apply those on the areas that hurt.” Theodore stows the vials in his pockets, nodding because this isn’t his first rodeo as the caretaker in charge.

With one last disapproving glance, she turns on her heel and disappears back into her office, not before sparing you a theatrical warning. “Behave yourselves and don’t cause a ruckus,” she scolds, the door shutting behind her with a soft clack.

You slump into the bed, pulling your lovers down and manoeuvre your limbs in a way that won’t cause any prolonged numbness. The three of you are experts by now at this, having had adequate time since practically second year, to learn which positions were best for injured cuddles. The knowledge only ran deeper after your tumultuous fifth year, which you spent the better part of the year dating on and off in every combination known to mankind until you came to the conclusion that you could simply just all date each other without having to choose.

With practiced ease, Theo wraps his arms around you, carefully avoiding the injured and bandaged areas. His legs tangle with yours, joined by Mattheo's long limbs as the latter reaches across your stomach to intertwine his fingers with Theo’s. His face nuzzles into your neck, pressing kisses into your skin as he mumbles gibberish strings of sentences you can barley make out, but you're fairly certain it's a detailed rundown of how he plans to torture everyone who contributed to your pain. The warmth of their bodies is comforting and familiar, like coming home after an exhausting day and wrapping yourself in a warm blanket.

Theo is tracing your waist when he finally speaks up, his face schooled into a neutral expression.

“So,” he says casually, “care to explain the details of your adventure?”

You've dreaded this question long before he asked it, probably as soon as you'd actually gotten into the fight. But it's inevitable, and you know there's no escaping Theo, even if you wanted too. If you don't fess up now, he will find a way to get it out of someone else. And Merlin help you and every poor bloke involved in this should Theo actually have to resort to getting his information on his own.

As if equipped with some high grade legilimency, Mattheo nudges you with his face gently. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, princess,” he warns jokingly, though the both of you know what it really means. Being friends with Theodore Nott for seven years and dating him for two of those has unfortunately subjected the both of you to his incredibly stubborn and merciless nature —in a variety of settings, some more well liked than others, if you catch the drift— which unfortunately also means that you know you're not leaving this bed until he gets a satisfactory answer, or until he tortures you enough to get his fill.

Besides, it's hard to deny him anything when his fingers are tracing idle shapes on your skin, the touch both maddening and soothing at once. And it's especially hard to resist becoming putty in his hands when he stares at you with those big blue eyes, dark like the deepest corner of the ocean and filled with unwavering devotion that knows no bounds.

You resign to yourself to your fate, making yourself more comfortable by tangling one hand into Mattheo’s hair for the sake of nervous fidgeting and lean more into Theodore as you begin to explain.

“I was going from my Potions class to Herbeology, minding my own business,” Mattheo snorts, as if the notion of you minding your own business is of great amusement before Theo digs his nails into his palm, giving him a stern look that roughly translates into Shut the fuck up and let her talk.

“As I was saying,” you continue with a huff, “I was minding my own business like I would on any perfectly normal Tuesday, when I came to the belief that my ears must deceive me! In the courtyard, a bunch of Gryffinidiots were huddled together, lounging about as if they owned the world, loudly complaining and boasting about shit no one cares about.”

You hope this would be enough of an explanation, not in the mood to elaborate on the actual reason you fought one of the morons in the courtyard, but alas, Theo does not give in. He stares at you with furrowed eyebrows, clearly attempting to piece together what would warrant a fight just because a few Gryffindor were being annoying. Silently, he beckons you to continue and you groan with a bit more theatrics than needed, giving Mattheo’s curls a few tugs that cause a few noises of bliss.

“Anyways, I was going to ignore them, especially because the moment they saw me they started making comments trying to rile me up,” you stare at Theo, batting your eyes at him innocently when he very clearly questions your bull. “Honest! I was trying to be peaceful because I know you can’t stand it when Matty and I start fights,” you added, choosing to dignify Mattheo’s snort with a jab into his ribs.

A short moment of silence stretches between you, with you trying to think your next words over carefully in order to minimise the lecture potential that will absolutely follow suit. After deciding that really, theres no way to put this without receiving at least a heavy disappointed stare, you sigh and finally confess.

“The whole ignoring thing was going pretty well too, until one of the loud mouths had the absolute audacity to insult Mattheo, calling him a psychotic piece of shit with a filthy soul” the stunned silence lasts for exactly three seconds before Mattheo sits up like he was struck by lightning, the look of bewilderment on his face slowly morphing into a shit eating grin.

“Oh my god,” he says, his voice sounding just a bit maniacal as he speaks. “You got into a fight to defend me?” By the way he says it, you might’ve as well proposed to him, it probably would’ve elicited the same reaction. Theo groans at the his boyfriends display of drama, reaching over to swat his arms.

“Don’t encourage her, caro,” he warns, but Mattheo doesn’t give two shits. He jumps up from the bed, pacing around like a caged animal and turns to look at you with a grin from ear to ear.

“Oh my god I’m so proud of you princess.”

“Don’t be proud of her, this isn't the time to encourage getting into fights for fucks sake!”

“First of all, I’m always proud of our girl,” Mattheo replies, winking at you, “second of all my love, I’ll always encourage getting into fights, that’s sort of my whole thing, no?” You try to stifle your giggles, you really do, but Theo looks like he aged 20 years just by listening to Mattheo talk and really, how can you resist when the boy breaks into an italian tangent about god knows what.

“Porca miseria, perché è sempre così con voi pagliacci?*” he curses, sitting up to run his hands over his face. You’re not exactly sure what he just said, but you think he might be either confessing his love or cursing the both of you.

Mattheo snorts, rounding the bed to stand in front of Theo and cradles his face in his hands with a smirk. “It’s always this way with us because we are, as you stated, clowns,” the words register in your mind and your offence is immediate. You pull yourself to sit up, noting that the pain has lessened from a sharp ache into just a dull echo, and hit Theo’s shoulder with a scandalised gasp.

“Theodore Niccolo Nott , I am not a clown, how dare you?” He glances at you, expression flat save for the twitch in the corner of his mouth and the fucker shrugs, like the insult is a universal fact he stands by.

You and Mattheo exchange looks, an entire conversation between your eyes before you begin to lament your shared woes in sync.

“Oh woe is me, my own boyfriend thinks I’m a clown,” you cry out, clutching your chest like you’d just been stabbed and shot.

“Woe is me indeed,” Mattheo adds, one of his hands to his forehead while the other squished Theo’s face tightly. The Italian tries to swat away Mattheo’s hand, but it doesn’t hold any real vigour. He leans into the touch more than anything, a small content smile on his face that he most definitely will deny should you point it out.

“Well how is it my fault if you two stronzi* are always going around beim morons? Smettila di iniziare litigi,* for fucks sake!”

Mattheo and you make eye contact, the both of you biting your lips as Theodore goes on and on in a mixture between Italian and English, lecturing you for your idiocies and your behaviour. At a certain point, he even stands up and pushes Mattheo to sit beside you, pacing back and forth as he gestures wildly with his hands.

Mattheo and you nod solemnly, not catching a single word he says and instead focusing on how absolutely hot he sounds scolding you like that. Ten minutes into his lecture, he finally realises the both of you aren't pay in attention, too busy staring at his lips and face with a star struck expression.

“Oh, mio dio*, you didn't hear a single thing I said, did you?” He asks, crossing his arms while staring at you like two children that just got caught stealing cookies from a jar. You and Mattheo avoid his gaze expertly, mumbling half assed excuses he definitely won’t believe, before risking a glance in his direction. To your absolute dismay, you’re confronted with his disappointed look, his mouth pressed into a thin line, worry lines deeply etched into his handsome face and eyes darkened by the sheer volume of disappointment.

“Don’t look at me like this,” Mattheo defends weakly, “I’m not the one that landed myself a trip to the hospital wing!” It’ truly marvellous what a man will do when facing the disappointment of his boyfriend, going as far as to sell out his girlfriend to save his own skin like a coward. You shove Mattheo roughly, hissing strings of curses about his betrayal under your breath.

“Yeah, but you’re condoning it and just as bad,” Theo quips back, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the two of you fighting. Immediately, you cease all movement and sit calmly, unable to bear the guilt that washes over you.

“You talk as if you wouldn’t do the same,” you mumble, gaining some confidence in your stance when Mattheo nods eagerly.

“Yeah,” he joins in, “you’d never let it slide if someone talked shit about me or her!”

Theo looks at the two of you like you’re really, really stupid and he can’t decide if he wants to slap you, kiss you or fuck you. You’d take all three, any day any time, in that very order, but that’s beside the point.

“Yeah, but have you ever seen me get in a fight?” He waits for an answer he knows won’t come, because Theodore Nott is above petty fights. Oh no, he doesn’t do barbaric altercations. He schemes in the dark, orchestrates quietly in the shadows to plan a swift and miserable death in every category, be it social, mental, physical or elsewhere.

If Mattheo resorts to violence, you to words and magic, then Theo resorts to dirty schemes that will leave people questioning their actions for the rest of their lives. He wasn’t one for temporary consequences, he likes to leave a mark, in more ways than one.

“Next time, you’ll be more careful, capice*?” He asks, letting out a long and weary sigh at the sight of you taking the scolding with no more protests. You nod dutifully, fully knowing that you will in fact not be more careful if it means you can defend your boys from slander. Theo seems to read your mind, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression, which instantly evaporates when Mattheo pulls him down to his level to press a kiss onto his mouth.

The kiss is sudden and takes both you and Theo by surprise, but unlike him, you instantly acclimate to the display and smirk gleefully when you watch his expression shift as soon as Mattheo pulls away from him. His face is red, eyes blown wide and his lips are slightly bruised from the impact and the rough way he’s handled; just like Mattheo likes him.

Mattheo turns to you, a cheeky grin on his face that spells his intentions clear as day. Still, you’re quick to jump into action, pulling him to you and joining your lips into a fervent kiss. His hands hold the side of your face with such gentleness; a stark contrast to how he bites and nibs at your lips roughly. You meet his passion with an intensity of your own, holding the back of his neck firmly as your other hands tugs and pulls on his hair. Each time, he lets out sounds of pure pleasure that you swallow with your own mouth, taking the chance to slide your tongue into his mouth.

With too much reluctance, you part away, faces flushed and lips swollen. Theodore watches intensely, mouth slightly apart like always when he watches you kiss and touch.

He clears his throat, adjusting his stance as his eyes darts between the two of you and the exit of the hospital wing.

“I’ll go ask Poppy if you can go,” he presses, all but sprinting to the matrons office, leaving you and Mattheo to giggle about the whole ordeal. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, fondly nuzzling against his side and revelling in the soft and careful touches as the quiet conversation from Poppy’s office drifts to the both of you. You close your eyes with a smile, just for a moment, and you think it might not be so bad to bleed, if only those two stick by your side every time.

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wwweasleystan · 2 months ago

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𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ִֶָ ⊹𓂃

Thanks to everyone who's participated!! Also please let me know if I've missed anyone 🩷

𝘞𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘖𝘯𝘦 ♡ 𝘔𝘢𝘺 1 - 8

THE LIBRARY by @moons-and-mobility-aids (remus lupin x f!reader)

BROTHERS BSF/ROOMMATE!MATTHEO by @aur0ral1ghts (mattheo riddle x f!reader)

ETHICALLY by @obsessedwithceleste (mattheo riddle x theodore nott)

BEST OF BOTH WORLDS by @riddlesrizzler (mattheo riddle x f!reader)

ANGEL ON THE COURT by @ur-local-wizard (mattheo riddle x reader)

SPEED DATING by @pizzaapeteer (mattheo riddle x f!reader)

BURN WITH ME by @foolexby (james potter x f!reader)

WINNING GAMES (james potter x f!reader) | DINNER AND DESSERT* (mattheo riddle x f!reader) | DEDICATED TO MY LOVE (sirius black x f!reader) | THE OTHER BROTHER (fred weasley x f!reader) ON BREAK TREATS* (theodore nott x f!reader) | COLD CUDDLES (james potter x f!reader) | SWEET TASTES* (enzo berkshire xf!reader) by @etclouie

𝘞𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘛𝘸𝘰 ♡ 𝘔𝘢𝘺 9 - 16

coming soon.

𝘞𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 ♡ 𝘔𝘢𝘺 17 - 23

coming soon.

𝘞𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘍𝘰𝘶𝘳 ♡ 𝘔𝘢𝘺 24 - 31

coming soon.

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wwweasleystan · 2 months ago

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౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ MATTHEO RIDDLE MASTERLIST

FLUFF

untouchable / unbreakable / unforgettable ➵ meet cute w matt

tuned for tension ➵ boyfriend matt (banter)

midnight revelations ➵ secret crush watt

hearts reclaimed ➵ boyfriend matt (comfort)

the missing piece ➵ boyfriend matt (comfort)

cradled in comfort ➵ boyfriend matt (comfort)

flirt and flirtation ➵ best friend matt (flirting)

wickedly yours ➵ boyfriend matt

all it took / backstage seranade ➵ meet cute w matt (band!au)

ink and intentions ➵ meet cute w matt (tattoo artist!au)

after hours ➵ husband matt (ceo!au)

ANGST

echoes of betrayal ➵ ex boyfriend matt

brewing hope ➵ ex boyfriend matt

unspoken promises ➵ boyfriend matt

riddled by anxiety ➵ boyfriend matt

after the storm ➵ boyfriend matt

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wwweasleystan · 2 months ago

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the guard dog couple M.R

His head cracks like a whip, keen ears alert picking up the smallest mention of your name leaving some unworthy bastards disgusting lips. And he’s on the move without logic, rolling his sleeves up, storming with heighten adrenaline like a ragging bull. His eyes narrowed with dark slits of primal power, “keep my gf’s name out your goddamn mouth-“ but before he can even throw an amped up punch, he’s tugged back by an disciplining force with a strangled grunt, his airway cut off by the strangling tie.

The grip on his tie still tight, that he has to take control of your hand just to get some wiggle room to breathe, and then he’s met with a searing hot kiss, a distraction so good his energy channels. His hands curving around your waist with a tight grip, like he can’t get enough of you, his thoughts of rage evaporating into something more carnal. pulling back you whisper, “why go over there when I’m right here.” With lips so plump and luscious from the onslaught of the assault, and he rolls his eyes but cracks a grin, responding, “god forbid a man defends his women.”

your head whips at the audacity the girl has to try and steal your man; your already on the move walking towards her like an electric live wire. “The fuck-“ before you can even spit out the most venomous curse at her a hand clamps down over your lips and your pulled back agaisnt a hard chest. “Baby hey, relax.” Your eyes stay narrowed, shooting icy glares at the girl, only making Mattheo laugh at your intimidation tactic - though it’s clearly working on the victim as she staggers back. “so feisty when your protective, but let’s put that to better use” he presses a kiss to your temple before he’s sweeping you up over his shoulder and carrying you away, with a playful smack to your ass, as you stubbornly protest how you had it under control.

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wwweasleystan · 2 months ago

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MATTHEO RIDDLE ౨ৎ.ᐟ

• drabbles

I NEED MY PAMPERING ౨ৎ mattheo is completely obsessed with you and your high-maintenance ways. he loves spoiling you, but the moment you stop pampering him, he turns into the neediest boyfriend alive. today, you're just trying to do your makeup, but mattheo has other plans—mainly, being the center of your attention

THIRD WHEELING ౨ৎ you and mattheo go out for a nice date, but theo shows up and won’t stop ranting about quidditch. what starts as a quiet night quickly turns into a battle for mattheo’s attention, with you and theo trading insults about your boyfriend’s annoying habits. mattheo’s just left confused and caught in the middle

KINDA WANNA CUDDLE ౨ৎ mattheo looks unfairly soft in the morning, all messy curls and slow breaths, and you can’t help but stare. the moment is perfect—until theo rips open the curtains, groaning about how much he hates couples

PAINT MY SOUL TO BE WITH YOU ౨ৎ mattheo paints a portrait of you, something he’s never shown anyone before. when you see it, he’s nervous, but you love it—and him—more than anything

I LOVE THE WAY YOU CALL ME 'LOVE' ౨ৎ you pass mattheo a book, barely looking up as you say, “here you go, love.” simple. casual. nothing to dwell on. except mattheo is sitting there, ears burning, heart stuttering, already spiraling. what does this mean? do you call everyone that? were you always something? is he imagining things? what were you guys now? merlin, he’s doomed

• oneshots

YOU'RE MY IDIOT ౨ৎ you told mattheo to branch out and make new friends, but now that he has, you can’t shake the ugly feeling in your chest. you know you shouldn’t be jealous, but the thought of him with someone else is driving you insane

YOU LIKE ME? I LIKE YOU ౨ৎ ever since you met mattheo, you've sworn he was the most oblivious idiot alive. but when nearly headless nick’s deathday party brings jealousy, stolen glances, and one too many lingering touches, you start to wonder—maybe you’re just as clueless as he is

• prompt based

STAY IN THE LAVENDER SHAMPOO HAZE ౨ৎ ever since you started dating mattheo, he’s been obsessed with the way you smell, always nuzzling into your hair like a love-drunk puppy. but when you run out of your shampoo, he grieves—all pouty lips and big doe eyes, clinging to you like it’s the end of the world, demanding extra kisses to to help him get through this trying time

YOUR RESIDENT GUARD DOG ౨ৎ ever since you met mattheo, you knew he had a temper. but when some creep at a party gets too close to you, he completely snaps. now you're in his dorm, everyone yelling, but all you can think about is how pretty he looks when he's angry

PULL ME IN AND DON'T LET ME GO ౨ৎ ever since mattheo realized how perfectly you fit in his arms, he’s made it his life’s mission to keep you there—chin on your shoulder, arms snug around your waist, trailing soft kisses up your neck like it’s his favorite thing to do. and really, it is

• au list

mattheo riddle x potter!reader

• headcannons

soft!mattheo riddle

❪ LINKS.ᐟ❫ — main masterlist ☆ navigation ☆ cameos ☆ au list ☆ guidelines

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wwweasleystan · 3 months ago

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𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

miscellaneous - ☆ | fluff - ☏ | angst - ❆ | smut - 🂡

𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔 𝕽𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊 ✍︎

DRABBLES: -2K WC

☆ 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭

☏ 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨

☏ 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

☏ 𝐎𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

☏ 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞™ (𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲-𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥)

ONE SHOTS: +2K WC

🂡 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠….

🂡 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝

☆ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬: 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

☆ 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐬 𝐐𝐮𝐨

☆ 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐈𝐭

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖙 ✍︎

DRABBLES:

ONE SHOTS:

☆ 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞… 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭?

🂡 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲

𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖟𝖔 𝕭𝖊𝖗𝖐𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊 ✍︎

COMING SOON…

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wwweasleystan · 3 months ago

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Only You

Images ltr: Pinterest here, Pinterest by Elif here, Pinterest by olislcve here | Dividers by @saradika-graphics here

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word count: 6.7k +

Summary: Against all odds, you and Mattheo are falling hard for each other. However, reminders of your past might have something to say about that.

Warnings/be aware: Gryffindor!Quidditch Player!reader, Muggleborn!reader, fem!reader, hurt/comfort, Mattheo Riddle being so soft for reader, and also so obsessed with her lol, reader is mentioned as wearing makeup, kissing, nicknames, use of Y/N, mention of reader being laughed at/embarrassed in the past, no blood purity ideologies mentioned, images don’t represent the reader

A/N: And the story comes full circle! This is part 3 of my Desperation mini-series, please read parts one and two before this one for important context xoxo.

The warm breath tickling your ear would’ve been alarming if you hadn’t known exactly who it belonged to.

You sat up from your hunched-over position at a table in the Gryffindor common room, fire crackling beside you as you etched your thoughts on parchment with a quill and onyx-dark ink. A little smile snuck across your features as you glanced up, reaching your hand out to give the head that was resting next to your shoulder a gentle push.

“Mind yours, Riddle,” you teased, knowing that he was taking a glance at the parchment to see what you were writing. Your eyes traveled upwards to see him grinning down at you mischievously. He took the chance to grab your hand in both of his, playing with your fingers as his dark eyes sparkled in the firelight. “How’d you get in here, anyway?” Gryffindor Tower was usually pretty stringent about security. At the moment, though, it was scarcely occupied – the first snow of winter had just fallen, and most students were outside, making snowmen and waging snowball wars.

A little chuckle escaped his lips as he smirked. “You let me in last week, remember?” He winked cheekily and you felt your cheeks heat up. You had let him in the previous week. He’d come to you after Transfiguration and whispered in your ear that he couldn’t keep his hands off you for a second longer, and you’d snuck up to Gryffindor Tower with him while the rest of your classmates were in Potions. You’d spent the afternoon sitting on his lap in an armchair and letting him snog you until your lips were swollen and you were breathless, and even if Hermione had shot you a disapproving look at dinner, it had been much better than spending it in Potions.

“I didn’t think you would remember the password, to be honest.” Your eyes narrowed playfully as you gazed up at him. He was looking good in his uniform, emerald tie loose and ajar as always, his fitted sweater highlighting his well-muscled chest and arms. The feeling of his strong hands wrapped around yours made you more distracted than you’d care to admit.

“Rude. It’s like a steel trap up here.” He tapped his forehead with his pointer finger.

You giggled. “I’ll remember that the next time you’re begging me to help you study for Runes.”

He pulled a face, scrunching his nose at you and making you laugh even harder. “What are you even doing?”

“Writing my parents.” You glanced back down at the parchment. “My dad’s dog has just had puppies, so I want to see how they’re doing, and I need them to send me a couple of old books I’ve left at home.” Professor Lupin had just assigned a project on banshees in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and you wanted to reference the notes you’d left in a few of your earlier Defense textbooks.

“Haven’t you got enough of those?” He shot you a teasing grin. “Between you and Granger, I can’t believe your dormitory isn’t overrun by all your books.”

“Ah, see, but these have all of my old notes in the margins, so they’re better.”

“You write in –” For a moment, he gave you a baffled look before shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. I’m out of my depth.” He turned and hopped up so that he was sitting atop the table, facing you. “Wanna go out with me on Saturday?”

A grin spread across your face. “And do what?” you teased.

“Oh, take a walk to Honeydukes’, stop in at the Three Broomsticks for some hot cocoa, I’ll buy whatever you want at Tomes and Scrolls…”

“Mattheo Riddle, you really know how to charm a girl.” You squeezed his knee playfully. “Yes. Now hop off here, I need to finish this.”

“But I’m bored.”

You laughed. “Go bother Nott, then. I’m sure he’s neglecting his studies.”

“He’s with that girl from Potions,” he whined.

“You know, you could really stand to learn her name.” You rolled your eyes gently. “They’ve been on, like, three dates. Nott knew my name by then.”

Mattheo chuckled. “Everyone knows who you are, princess.”

“Ooh, tell me more.” Giving your hair a playful flip, you made him laugh in earnest.

Eventually, the two of you found yourselves cuddled up on the couch, your legs slung across his thighs as you finished up the last of your letter. He played with the edge of your school sweater as you worked, his fingers occasionally brushing against the bare skin of your back and sending delicious tingles up your spine. Though you chewed your lip in concentration, your mind seemed determined to wander to other topics – namely, the boy next to you.

“Stop that,” you protested lightly, giggling at his touch.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows, trying to feign innocence.

“Distracting me.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

Leaning back against the couch, he trapped your gaze in his dark one. “You’re distracting.”

With a little scoff, you rolled your eyes, though you felt your cheeks heat up at the comment. “You’re not even doing anything.”

“Because you’re too distracting.”

You poked him in the chest playfully. “I bet you say that to all the pretty girls.”

“Princess, you’re the prettiest girl here and it’s not close.” He pulled you fully onto his lap as your face grew hot. You couldn’t help the little grin that tugged at your lips.

“Mattyyyyy.” Normally it was easy for you to accept compliments. But for some reason, Mattheo had the ability to turn you into a flustered mess every time, and you didn’t know what to do, so you just buried your head in the crook of his neck as your stomach filled with butterflies.

“Here.” You felt the parchment beneath your fingers and the textbook it was resting on being pulled out of your hands, and you couldn’t even resist. There was an audible thud as he deposited them on the end table beside you along with your quill. “That’s better.” You looked up to see him smirking at you.

His darkening gaze made a heat pool in your stomach. You knew what it meant. “Matty, we’re in public,” you protested, a bashful smile on your lips.

“Baby, there’s no one in here.” His eyes flashed with a hint of smugness as he leaned back fully, shamelessly drinking in your form while his hands came to rest on your hips. “Besides,” he continued, his voice lowering, “you can’t call me that unless you want me to do something about it.”

The deep timbre of his voice made your stomach flip. “What?” You gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Matty?”

You bit your bottom lip in anticipation as he groaned softly. “Get over here.” He pulled your thigh across his lap until you were straddling him and you couldn’t hold back the little gasp that escaped from you. His thumbs dug deliciously into your hips as you twined your fingers in his curls.

The moment that your lips connected, everything else ceased to exist.

You didn’t finish your letter to your parents until the evening. Finally, you sent it off with your owl, Mattheo walking in step with you to the owlery to keep you company.

It was two days later when the mail finally arrived – your owl deposited a letter next to your breakfast plate along with a large stack of books and a few photos on Muggle film. She chattered her beak, expecting a treat, and you fed her a small section of toast instead with the hope that it would suffice. Though she looked mildly irritated, she accepted the toast and flew away.

“Ooh, what’s that?” Lavender asked, her voice clear despite the morning chatter. Some days you wished you could be as much of a morning person as she was – no matter how late she’d stayed out the night before, she was always bright-eyed by six a.m. Parvati, Ginny, and Hermione also looked on with interest, though Harry and Ron were paying no attention, having some sort of half-asleep conversation across the table.

“Letter from my parents,” you began, holding up the envelope, “textbooks, and…puppy photos.” Your friends’ faces brightened at your words and soon you were passing the photos around to a chorus of awwws.

Once the chatter died down, you turned your attention to your parents’ letter. They informed you that the puppies were doing well, and they’d decided to name them after characters from Jane Austen novels (yesterday, Lady Catherine had stolen an entire chicken leg from the kitchen counter). They filled you in on some additional news from your countryside hometown, including your neighbor Nancy’s new tulips and the very loud car recently purchased by Dan down the street. Finally, they wished you a good week at school, told you they loved you, and reminded you to please write your older sister when you got the chance. You smiled fondly as you read, thinking about how you were looking forward to seeing them over Christmas break.

Then you turned your attention to the books. There was some information in these books that you really needed for your essay on banshees, you just weren’t sure where. The old lessons where you’d used these tomes were nothing more than faded memories now. Heaving a sigh, you figured you ought to get to it and began flipping through the volumes.

“Hermione,” you began as you cracked open one of the texts, “you wouldn’t happen to know which one of these books has the most information on banshees, would you?”

Beside you, Hermione also had her nose in a rather large book. “I think you’ve got the one.” Her eyes flicked towards you briefly. “Just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll take a look.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Glancing at her, you observed with sympathy that she was trying to work her way through some rather complicated Arithmancy. “I’ll find it soon enough.” As you turned the page, you saw your loopy Third-Year handwriting in the margins of the text. Hinkypunks – disguise themselves as helpful. Grindylows – sometimes kept as pets by mermaids. You hoped that your past self had left you some help.

“Oh, is that for Lupin’s essay?” Parvati asked. “Merlin, I’ve scarcely started. I’ve been so busy tutoring for Divination…”

“Are you free tonight?” She nodded and you glanced around the table. “We should all work on it together in the library, we’ll finish up soon enough.”

Ron, who apparently at some point had started listening, raised an eyebrow. “You sure your boyfriend won’t get lonely? He seems very attached.”

Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny glanced at you with intrigue as you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. “Hush, Ronald. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just seeing each other.”

“Well, I’m tired of seeing you snogging on my favorite couch.” He narrowed his eyes at you and you grimaced. Harry and Ginny struggled to conceal their laughter. Traitors.

“Ron, you are so unromantic,” Lavender declared, and you couldn’t help but laugh as she huffed in her ex’s direction. You were glad they were on good terms so you could enjoy both of their dramatics. Their banter faded into the background as you turned your focus back towards the textbook in front of you. You’d finally reached the section on werewolves, which meant that hopefully banshees were nearby. Your younger self’s cursive noted that werewolves completely lose control during the full moon and retain no memory of their actions while they are transformed.

“Wait, Y/N, that’s not the book I was thinking of,” Hermione suddenly interrupted, tapping gently on the page you were reading with her pointer finger. “Here.” She tugged another text from the middle of the pile. “Try this one.”

“Right, thanks.” You hastily flipped to the front of the book you were currently reading. However, before you could close it, something caught your eye. The title page of the book was, strangely, full of your handwriting too. Turning back to it, you wondered if you’d left some notes there. The words that greeted you, though, weren’t Defense notes.

Scrawled across the page dozens of times over was one name: Mattheo Riddle. In big letters, small letters, cursive, print, bubbled text, vertical, horizontal, upside down, surrounded by little hearts…his name was written across your pages.

You inhaled sharply. You’d completely forgotten about the little habit you’d picked up in third-year Defense. When you finished your work early, you’d gaze across the classroom, eyes always drawn to the boy that you dreamed would one day notice you. Then your quill began to trace his name until it was habit, sometimes on random textbook pages, but often here at the front of the book. The memories came flooding back – the way you’d cover the book with your arm to hide the words from prying eyes, the gentle rhythm of Professor Lupin’s voice in the background, the clench in your chest as you watched Mattheo smirking at Enzo or laughing with Theo. You could almost feel the tug of the pink hair clips you’d perpetually worn in your hair and the pinch of your old ballet flats. Almost involuntarily, you slammed the book closed and stood up.

“Are you alright?”

You turned to see Ginny looking at you from across the table with a crease of confusion between her brows. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” It felt as though you were trying to convince yourself. “I just, um…” You glanced down at the books in front of you. “I need to bring these up to the dormitory. I can’t exactly lug them around all day.”

By her expression, you could tell she was skeptical, but she didn’t pry. “I’ll see you at lunch, okay? Have a good day.” She gave your hand a squeeze and you felt a pang of guilt at the worry behind her eyes.

“You too, Gin.” Scooping the books up into your arms, you hurried out of the Great Hall.

When you reached Gryffindor tower, you slammed the door to the portrait hole behind you, chest heaving with panicked breaths. You closed your eyes in the empty common room, struggling to center yourself.

You’re not her, you told yourself firmly. You’re seventeen, not thirteen, and you are never going to be that little girl again. But it was difficult to believe yourself when you thought about Mattheo and your stomach immediately fluttered, a heat rising to the surface of your skin at the memory of him in your common room. Somehow, four years had passed and you were further gone for him than ever.

Steadying yourself, you walked up the stairs to your dormitory. When you stepped through the doors, you threw the books down onto your bed, releasing a heavy exhale. Almost involuntarily, you abandoned the books by your bedside and stepped toward your trunk. Unlatching the top, you balanced it against the foot of your bed and began to root through its compartments. Beneath your large book collection and the warm-weather clothing you’d stowed away when the wind began to bite at your nose sat an array of tri-folded papers that your fingers knew by heart. They were Lauren’s letters, accumulated over your seven years at Hogwarts. The very oldest ones were from your first year, when you still couldn’t believe that you were on your own at boarding school instead of following her to Muggle secondary school. Atop the thick pile, the most recent was from October. You’d both been busy, her with her new job in London and you with NEWT studies, and you hadn’t kept up with your correspondence the way you would have liked.

Your fingers wrapped around a folded piece of parchment that sat somewhere in the middle, closer to the oldest rather than the newest. It was dated February 12th, from nearly four years ago. Pulling it from the collection, you closed your trunk and sat atop the lid as you unfolded it.

Hey, sis,

First of all, let me say that I’m so, so sorry to hear about what happened. I’ve met some terrible boys, but this Riddle bloke seems like a real piece of work. You deserve so much better.

I know it’s hard, but I hope you can start seeing him for who he is – an arrogant, immature git who doesn’t deserve a second thought from you. He sounds like he’s got a lot of his own insecurities to work through. I know his type: him and his friends get whatever they want at school and they walk around the halls like they own the place. Those sort of guys are the worst, especially at your age. They have no perspective on life and no understanding that when they get older, people won’t worship the ground they walk on just because they were popular in school. It’ll be good for him to learn that if he wants a girl’s attention, he has to work for it.

You are everything. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you are. When my friends come over, they’re always talking about how smart you are. Even though I can’t tell them the truth about who you are and what you’re capable of, they can tell that you’re special. I saw the way other kids were looking at you when we went to Diagonally last time – they can see it too. I hope that you can start seeing yourself the way that I see you. You are going to make our family so proud someday, I know it. You have everything you need to live the life you’ve imagined. Keep your head up now and things will only get better from here. Meanwhile, the lives of arrogant guys like Mattheo Riddle have nowhere to go but downhill.

I know what it feels like to have to force yourself to get over a guy (remember Tyler??) and it seems like you’re drowning at first. But I promise you that every day, the water will get less and less deep until one day, you realize that you can stand up. Then it goes down to your shoulders, then your waist, and then before you know it, you’re on the beach. You can make it to the beach, I know you can.

I love you so much, little sister. I can’t wait to see you this summer. Until then, remember that I’m just a letter away.

Also, I went back to that Diagonally place a couple of days ago – the people at the Leaky Cauldron helped me get in once I told them that you were a student at Hogwarts. I went back to the bookshop and asked them for something interesting that would help you out in your classes, and they recommended this one. I’ve no idea what Ancient Runes are, but it looks cool.

All love,

Lauren

You smiled softly at the final paragraph. Though Lauren was a bit confused about certain aspects of magic (like how to spell Diagon Alley), she’d always cared about the wizarding world because she cared about you. That book on Ancient Runes sat on your shelf even now, read through a hundred times, highlighted, underlined, dog-eared, and thoroughly well-loved.

When you were younger, you’d dreamed of being as pretty and confident as Lauren, who’d been popular and fashionable for as long as you could remember. You’d see her friends filling your parents’ house during her birthday parties and hangouts and wonder if you would be as cool as she was in secondary school. It had always seemed like a dream that would never come true. But when you’d read this letter for the first time, you actually believed that you could become that girl you wanted to be. Now, it felt like you were two steps forward and two steps back. You’d grown so much, just as Lauren had predicted. But those memories from the past kept sneaking back like ghosts, haunting you. They reminded you just how vulnerable you were in Mattheo’s arms. He’d broken you before and he could again.

As you glanced up from the parchment, setting it down on the foot of your bed, you realized a few things at once. First of all, your eyes were welling up with tears, and you blinked furiously in an attempt to avoid a full-on cry at eight thirty in the morning. Secondly, you were late for class.

Muscles tensing, you hurried to the mirror and tried to banish the redness and puffiness from your eyes as best as you could. You dabbed the tears from your waterline, mascara transferring to your fingers from your bottom lashes but thankfully, not smudging beneath your eyes. Hurriedly, you smoothed your hair and your skirt, then reapplied your lip gloss. Taking a breath, you steeled yourself. You’re fine. Calm down, everything is fine. You couldn’t quite make yourself believe it, but you picked up your school bag and strode out the doors of your dormitory nonetheless.

One of the most underrated parts of being an excellent student was all the goodwill you’d built up with your professors. Ordinarily, you didn’t really think about it. But on a day like today, when your mind felt full of TV static and it was all you could do to keep it together in public, you were tremendously grateful for it.

When you hurried into Professor Vector’s classroom ten minutes late, your classmates turned around at the disturbance, staring. You expected the reprimand she would give any other student for tardiness, but she merely cleared her throat, redirecting everyone’s attention to the front of the room. After you sat down in your usual seat next to Hermione, the professor shot you a gentle, sympathetic smile before continuing on with the lesson.

“Are you alright?” Hermione whispered softly as she took notes.

“Just feeling a little off,” you replied.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick similarly let you be, looking in other directions for responses to the questions that you typically volunteered to answer. The only professor who seemed irritated at your inability to find mental clarity was Professor Snape. You were the first student that he called on during his lesson, and his lip curled in displeasure when you struggled to tell him the properties of Sopophorous Bean.

“Not now, Miss Granger,” he drawled when she raised her hand in hopes of bailing you out, his dark glare squarely focused on you.

“Sopophorous Bean induces memory loss, and when combined with other ingredients, it can create deep sleep, euphoria, and…and…” You shook your head, grimacing as you struggled. “Sorry…”

“Mediocrity will not be tolerated, Miss Y/L/N.” He was practically snarling at you, and you could feel the tears that you’d managed to suppress all day building up in your eyes.

“Um…” You tried to take deep breaths as you grew more and more panicked. “It also induces…”

“A coma-like state according to some ancient texts.”

A breath of surprise caught in your throat as you recognized the voice that had just cut in. Turning, you saw Mattheo eyeing Professor Snape unapologetically from the back row of the classroom.

“Correct, Mister Riddle, although I do ask that you summon an ounce of this enthusiasm to answer questions when you are called on.” He pressed his lips together as he glared in Mattheo’s direction, though he said nothing more.

You barely heard a word that Professor Snape said for the rest of class, Mattheo’s interjection on your behalf just adding to the tumult of thoughts swirling around in your brain. His protectiveness evoked a frighteningly powerful feeling within you, something warm and tingling that made your head go empty and your heart pound. You glanced down at your textbook as you tried to take notes, your mind devoid of words besides Mattheo Riddle, and you were filled with the sudden urge to etch the letters in the margins of the pages again, like you were just a little girl with a crush.

When Professor Snape finally dismissed you, you rushed out of the classroom, avoiding the concerned glances of your friends.

As your heels clicked against the stone of the dungeon corridors, you felt your chest tightening. You couldn’t get back up to your dormitory fast enough, though you weren’t quite certain what you were going to do once you got there. Maybe you were going to write Mattheo’s name in your textbook a thousand times and maybe you were going to break down crying. Maybe you would reread Lauren’s letter and maybe you would burn it, pushing away memories you’d rather forget. You felt like you were going mad. What’s wrong with me? Dating Roger had never felt like this – like your mind was fixed on him and there was no cure.

You heard footsteps echoing behind you, growing closer. Bracing yourself, you prepared to face Harry, Ron, or Hermione, who would wonder what was wrong. How could you explain it when you yourself didn’t even understand?

“Alright, princess?”

The voice behind you and the gentle touch on your shoulder told you that the figure behind you was neither Harry, Ron, nor Hermione.

“Yeah.” You struggled to keep your voice from breaking, not knowing how Mattheo would react. “I’m just feeling a little off, I’m going to go back to my room.”

“I’ll walk you there.”

Mattheo fell into step with you, taking your books from your arms and intertwining your fingers with his. You couldn’t summon the words to protest, so you accepted the help even as your thoughts swirled and your throat tightened. The feeling of your hand wrapped in his large one made your heart pound even harder, and you tried to steady yourself with a quiet breath.

“Um…thank you for bailing me out during class.” Your voice was quiet as you struggled to meet his gaze.

“No problem.” He squeezed your hand gently. “I’ve no idea what Snape was on about today.”

You gave a weak shrug. “He’s never really liked me.”

Mattheo gave a little chuckle. “Oh, angel, it’s impossible not to like you.”

You swallowed thickly. The words from Lauren’s letter burned in your brain. I hope you can start seeing him for who he is – an arrogant, immature git who doesn’t deserve a second thought from you. Her description was so far from the boy standing before you, carrying your books, murmuring sweet words in your ear to make you feel better after you’d had a bad day. He’d promised you that he’d changed when he’d first asked you out, and that he would prove it to you, and he had. Mattheo had passed every test with flying colors, so why, why, did you still feel so terrified?

“Princess?”

His soft voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you realized that you hadn’t said anything to him in what was probably quite a long time.

“Um, yeah, sorry. Just not feeling great.”

Though his brows furrowed with concern, he said nothing. Instead, he released your hand and rubbed your back gently.

After an abundance of stairs, the two of you reached Gryffindor tower. He gave the password so that you wouldn’t have to, and you realized suddenly that he’d gone completely out of his way to walk you here – the Slytherin common room was all the way back in the dungeons.

“Thank you, Matty,” you murmured, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry I made you walk all the way here.”

Wrapping his free arm around your shoulders, he pulled you close to him, pressing a kiss into your hair. “You didn’t make me do anything. I’m happy to take care of you.”

You had to blink furiously to banish the tears that were in your eyes, and you couldn’t even explain why. Your stomach was full of butterflies at his words, but at the same time, it felt as though you were going to be sick. “Thank you,” you managed to repeat.

“Here, let’s get you up to bed.”

Shooting him a confused look, you frowned. “You can’t go up there. The stairs will kick you out, remember?”

He gave a low chuckle. “You live with Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender. Do you really think one of them hasn’t sorted that out by now?”

True to his word, Mattheo was able to follow you all the way up the stairs and into your dormitory, though the staircase did give an anxiety-inducing squeak of protest at his presence. He set your books down on your bedside table, grinning at your decorations as he glanced around the room. You leaned against your dresser, releasing a heavy sigh. Your eyes stared listlessly into space, exhausted from the emotional weight you’d been carrying around all day.

“You and Granger have got even more books than I thought.” He gave a playful nod toward the shared bookshelf in the room. It was indeed overflowing, with several stacks of books sitting on the floor. “I know you love them, but I don’t think sharing a bed with them would be very comfortable.”

You suddenly remembered the old books sitting on your bed as he picked them up, setting them down in a pile atop your trunk. Then he took a piece of parchment that was sitting atop your covers in between his fingers, cleaning quickly.

“Sorry it’s such a mess.” You winced with embarrassment as you realized that it was his first time seeing your room and it was kind of a disaster.

“What’s this?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you recognized Lauren’s letter in his hands.

“Oh, that’s just an old letter from my sister, just – ” Your voice sped up with panic and you hurried towards him, resting a hand on his forearm in the hopes of separating him from the parchment, but he was already reading.

There was a moment of silence as his eyes moved, his brows gradually creasing as his face fell.

“Mattheo?” Shakily, you lowered his arm.

Finally, he looked up at you, dark eyes unreadable. Your eyes connected for an agonizing moment, your stomach churning.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Your chest tightened painfully at the sound of his hollow voice. “No,” you replied, shaking your head firmly. “No, no, Mattheo, that letter is old, really old. She said those things back when we were kids, if she knew you now, she would never –”

“Then why were you reading it now?” His eyes narrowed, the pain behind them clear. “Is this why you were so upset today?”

You shook your head, legs feeling weak. Retreating, you sat down on your bed. “Please just forget about that. I’m sorry I was reading it.”

“That’s going to be kind of hard to forget.”

The sharpness in his voice sent a pain through your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, your voice breaking.

His lips pressed together and you saw him let out a deep breath, eyes shifting in contemplation. For a moment, you wondered if this was how it would happen. He was going to shatter your heart all over again. He set the letter down at the foot of your bed.

“What’s going on?”

His voice was so unexpectedly tender, his eyes so worried that you just broke. Eyes welling up with tears, you couldn’t hold back your emotions any longer. You held his gaze, though you felt ashamed.

“I’m scared, Matty.”

The weight of the words settled over the room. There was a moment of silence before he stepped towards you, then sat down next to you on the bed. The first tears began to trickle down your face as he looked at you.

“What happened?”

You sniffed, covering your face with your hands. “It’s so stupid,” you groaned. “Like, it’s literally the dumbest thing ever and I have no idea why I’m being like this. You’re going to laugh at me.”

You felt him wrap an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. “If it’s making you this upset, there’s no way that it’s stupid.”

“It’s really embarrassing.”

“Hey.” He squeezed your shoulder and you glanced up at him. “I think the world of you, you know that? My friends make fun of me for how often I stare at you from across the Great Hall.” A soft pink blush settled on his cheeks as he grinned sheepishly, and you giggled despite yourself. “And there’s nothing that you could tell me right now that would change that.”

The words warmed your heart. Reluctantly, you let out a sigh. “Go look in that book, inside the front cover.” You pointed to the one on the top of the stack.

His brows raised with curiosity but he followed your instructions, standing and walking over to the trunk. Taking the book in his hands, he opened it as your heart raced.

“Wow.” His eyes traced across the pages while he moved to sit back down. “Oh…oh, wow.” A little smile tugged at the edges of his lips and you hid your face back in your hands, letting out a huge groan.

“I told you it was embarrassing.”

“Aw, princess, hey.” He kissed the top of your head as he gently pulled your hands away from your face, setting the book down at the foot of your bed. You reluctantly faced him. There was a sweet little grin on his face, though, that calmed the churning in your stomach. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s cute.” Fondly, he tucked a section of your hair behind your ear. “What about that got you so upset?”

Chewing your lip nervously, you looked up at him. “I don’t know exactly,” you confessed. “I’d totally forgotten about it. And then it was just there, and I remembered sitting in Defense, doing all of that. I remembered being that scared kid who just wanted you to notice me, and for a second, it felt like I was her. I felt so small.” You swallowed hard, glancing down at your bedspread. “You make me so nervous, Matty. I – I feel things when I’m around you that no other guy has made me feel, and I’m scared. Seeing all of that in my old textbook – I don’t know, it reminded me of how much power you used to have over me. How much you still do.” Around you, your voice rang out, quiet and hollow. “I guess I went back to Lauren’s letter because…I wanted to remind myself that there was a version of me who survived getting my heart broken by you.”

You could feel the intensity of his gaze even as you stared down at your thighs. “And do you think I’m going to break your heart again?”

“I don’t know.” You lifted your head and felt a stab of guilt at the pain you saw in his eyes. “You’re different from the person you were. That guy that Lauren was talking about…that’s not you. But there’s still a little voice in my head telling me that the other shoe’s gonna drop.” He looked confused, almost worried. “It’s not your fault. It’s just that – I felt so in control with other guys. Not controlling, but I was never scared they were going to leave. I knew I had Roger wrapped around my finger, and I almost didn’t care. But with you…I like you so much,” you confessed. “I know you could break me. You’re the only one who ever could.”

“Princess.” His hands slipped around your waist, and before you knew what was happening, he pulled you onto his lap. Your legs slipped apart, resting on either side of his thighs. He leaned back against your headboard, looking you squarely in the eye. “If you had him wrapped around your finger, you have me wrapped around your pinkie.”

The words hit you like a wave of warmth in the freezing winter. Every terrified thought slipped from your mind at once. Your lips parted softly as your heart began to beat faster. “Really?”

A smile grew on his lips as he nodded. “All I want from you is to stay around for as long as you’ll have me.” He glanced down for a moment, his expression growing serious. “I know it must be scary for you. I knew how much I was asking from you when I asked you to trust me again. But you took that chance on me, and I’ll spend every day making it worth your while.”

“Oh, Matty.” The nickname slipped from your lips softly as his words seeped beneath your skin, warming your whole body. Then, you paused, recalling another moment from the morning. “Um…can I ask you something?”

“Anything, pretty girl.”

Might as well get it over with. “Am – am I your girlfriend?”

He chuckled softly, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in an attractive little smirk. “You’re my everything.”

Your heart thundered in your ears. You weren’t sure what to say in response, so you opted to take ahold of his shirt collar and pull him in for a searing kiss instead. He groaned happily into your mouth, pulling you impossibly closer as his hands twined in your hair.

Eventually, the emotional exhaustion of the day caught up with you and you slumped down into the bed, your head resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. When you laid down, your eyes caught sight of the parchment still sitting at the foot of your bed and you felt guilt stirring in your stomach.

“I’m so sorry about that letter,” you whispered. “I’ll burn it if you want.”

“No,” he replied, his voice soft but firm. “She was right.”

“That’s not –”

“You are everything,” he murmured, his breath tickling your cheek. “She and I can agree on that.”

A little smile spread across your face as you burrowed deeper into his chest, your legs tangling with his. Then a thought struck you, and you giggled suddenly. “I wonder what she’ll say when I tell her that we’re together now.”

Glancing up, you saw Mattheo grimace. “I’ll brace myself for that one.” You laughed at his comical face as he shook his head.

“It’ll be fine,” you assured him. “She’ll only glare at you for, like, fifteen minutes. After that her contacts will dry out.” At that, he let out a little breath of laughter.

Sitting up, you moved to clean off the bed, tossing Lauren’s letter onto the top of the trunk and then picking up your old textbook. You moved to set it back on top of the book pile, but Mattheo interrupted you.

“Don’t put that away.” You turned around to see him pouting. “I like that one.”

Rolling your eyes playfully and letting out a dramatic sigh, you handed it to him and snuggled back into his side. He immediately opened it back up to the front cover, eyes tracing over the loops of your handwriting as he read iterations upon iterations of his own name.

“I hope you know that if someone told thirteen-year-old me that you would ever see this, I would’ve died of embarrassment.” Even now, your cheeks heated slightly at the sight of him taking it in. “Deceased. Curtains.” You drew a line across your throat with your finger for emphasis.

“I’ll get your name tattooed on me, would that make you feel better?” He raised his eyebrows and you giggled.

“You wouldn’t.”

He fixed you with an unwavering gaze, grinning. “Try me.”

You laughed lightly, though a heat pooled in your stomach at his words. His free hand began to skim across your thighs, sending tingles across your skin. Chewing your lip, you glanced up at him.

“What’s this?” A wide grin spread across his face, and you turned your head back towards the book to see him pointing to a line with his thumb. You squinted. The letters were small, so small that your eyes had skimmed right over them that morning.

Y/N Riddle.

“Oh, Merlin.” Your whole face grew hot as you buried it in his chest.

“Y/N Riddle,” he repeated. You could hear his voice lilting with amusement as he toyed with the edge of your skirt. “I like the sound of that.”

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