aligned-starz

[aligned-starz]

[aligned-starz]

i biblically need this man.

[aligned-starz]

♯ HIS LOVE’S CREATIVE HEART ; mattheo riddle

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! the love of his life was a creative soul and who was he to deny your nature? (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing, crafty reader, muggleborn reader, lovesick mattheo

NOTES! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

YOU'VE ALWAYS LOVED THE ACTIVITIES OF CREATIVITY. From a young age, you found joy in the simple act of making something with your own hands. Crocheting, with its interesting patterns and soothing repetition, was one of your earliest passions. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a ball of yarn transform into a cozy blanket or a delicate sweater under your fingers. Each loop, each stitch is a small act of creation. The rhythmic movement of the hook, the texture of the yarn slipping through your fingers, and the memories of your Grandmama were too cherished by you to forget them.

Baking, too, became a beloved creative outlet you shared with the sweet old woman. The kitchen was your laboratory, a place where you could freely experiment. You relished the process of measuring and mixing, the way simple ingredients like flour, sugar, and eggs could be transformed into a mix of flavors and textures. The smell of freshly baked bread or cookies wafting through the house was a comforting reminder of the magic you could create by your own hands. The process is both strict and freeing; one must follow certain rules, yet there is always room for imagination. A pinch of spice here, a dash of flavor there, and suddenly, a simple recipe becomes his personal favorite.

Painting, on the other hand, offered you a different kind of creative fulfillment. With a blank canvas before you and a palette of colors at your disposal, you felt a sense of freedom that was really exciting for your young heart. Each brushstroke was a gift of your inner world, a glimpse into your thoughts and emotions. Whether you were capturing the vibrant hues of a sunset or the delicate details of a flower, painting allowed you to see the world through new eyes and share your unique perspective with others.

In all these activities, you discovered not just hobbies, but a way of life. Creativity became a pair of sunglasses through which you viewed the world.

Your grandmama always believed in the magic of your creativity. From the time you were old enough to hold a crochet hook, she supported your talents with a guiding hand. Together, you spent countless afternoons creating intricate patterns and baking delicious treats in her warm home. Her kitchen became your comfort place, the rhythmic hum of the oven and the soft clinking of your crochet needles made you unbelievably happy. She celebrated each finished piece, every golden-brown loaf of bread, and every delicate painting as if they were masterpieces. 

When your Hogwarts letter arrived, the old woman was overjoyed. As a muggleborn, you were stepping into a world she could only imagine. "Think of all the magical things you will create," she had said, her eyes sparkling with pride. Though the idea of leaving her was haunting you, her open love made the thought easier. She promised to write often, and you did your best to send her letters filled with detailed descriptions of your magical adventures and the new wonders you were creating with your wand.

But letters could only do so much, and as the years went by, you missed the simple joy of her daily encouragement and the warmth of her presence.

Six years passed in a blur of potions, spells, and problem making. Your creative spirit never died, but the absence of your grandmama's physical presence was a constant ache that seemed to linger in the depths of your heart. It was around this time that Mattheo Riddle entered your life. He saw the passion in your eyes, the same spark your grandmama had always seen. At first, he was fascinated by your creativity, watching with awe as you seamlessly blended magic with your muggleborn talents.

01 - CROCHETING

The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the flickering light from the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls. The warmth of the fire created a comforting atmosphere, slushing off the chill of the evening. You and Mattheo were nestled on a plush, overstuffed couch, its worn fabric bearing the marks of countless cozy evenings like this one. The air was filled with the soothing crackle of burning wood and the occasional 'pop' of a log as it settled deeper into the flames. Evenings like these were your favorite. 

You sat cross-legged at one end of the couch, your crochet hook moving rhythmically through a skein of deep blue yarn. Each loop and stitch seemed to flow effortlessly from your fingers, years of practice and the love poured into the new project. Your eyes were focused, yet relaxed, as you followed the intricate pattern in your mind, your hands working almost of their own accord.

Mattheo sat at the other end, his body turned toward you, one arm resting along the back of the couch. His gaze was soft but concentrated, his dark eyes following the movements of your hands with a mixture of admiration and fascination. He loved watching you create; there was something almost magical about the way you transformed simple yarn into beautiful designs. It was a side of you that he cherished deeply, a glimpse into your soul that he was privileged to witness.

The common room was quiet, save for the sounds of the fire and the occasional rustle of yarn. Mattheo shifted slightly, leaning closer to you. "What are you making this time?" he asked, his voice low and warm, filled with genuine curiosity as his irises never left your movements. 

You glanced up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's a blanket," you replied, holding up the growing fabric for him to see. "For my dorm. I thought it could use a bit more color and warmth."

Mattheo reached out, his long fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric. "It's beautiful," he murmured lowly, his eyes meeting yours. "Just like everything you make." 

Heat crept up your cheeks at his words, and you looked back down at your work, your smile widening. "Thank you." 

As you continued to crochet, Mattheo's gaze never wavered. He was captivated by the way your fingers moved, the delicate dance of the hook and yarn. He loved these quiet moments with you, where time seemed to slow down, and the outside world faded away. Everything was okay for once again. 

After a while, Mattheo shifted again, moving closer until his knee brushed against yours. He reached out and gently took one of your hands, his touch warm and reassuring. "Can I help?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed softly, the sound a sweet melody that mingled with the crackling fire. "I don't know," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "Have you ever done this before?" You knew the answer, but you wanted to mess with him a little bit.

His lips stretched into a grin at your words and his hand squeezed yours lightly. "I think I can manage. Just show me what to do."

You shifted closer to him, the blanket pooling in your and his lap. "Alright," you said, holding out the hook and yarn toward him. "First, you need to make a slip knot." You demonstrated the simple loop, your fingers deftly moving with practiced ease. Mattheo watched intently, his brows furrowed in concentration as he mimicked your movements.

"Like this?" he asked, showing you his attempt. It was a bit loose, but it held.

"Perfect," you praised the Slytherin boy, eyes sparkling with encouragement. "Now, hold the yarn like this and make a chain stitch." You showed him how to wrap the yarn around the hook and pull it through the loop. He followed your instructions carefully, his movements tentative but eager.

With each new step, you guided him, your hands occasionally covering his to correct his grip or adjust the tension. "You're doing great," you said, watching as he completed a row of chain stitches. "Now, let's try a single crochet."

Mattheo's initial awkwardness gradually gave way to a steady rhythm and his confidence grew with each stitch. He glanced up at you, a mixture of pride and joy in his eyes. "This isn't so bad," he admitted, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Although his side of the blanket was a little more messy than yours, it was adorable to see him trying out your activities. 

You laughed, the sound filling his chest with warmth. "See? I told you. And it's even more fun when you get the hang of it."

The two of you continued working together, your hands moving in sync as you crocheted side by side. As the night wore on, you and Mattheo fell into a comfortable silence, the rhythm of your work and the steady crackle of the fire lulling you into a peaceful state of mind.

02 - BAKING 

It was well past curfew, and the usual bustle of Hogwarts had given way to a hushed stillness.

 You and Mattheo crept through the hallways, stifling giggles and casting glances around to make sure you remained unseen. Finally, you reached the entrance to the kitchens, a place where the house elves bustled about during the day and night, cooking and baking the delicious meals that filled the Great Hall every day. 

You tickled the pear in the portrait, and the entrance swung open to reveal the warm, inviting space of the Hogwarts kitchens. The room was a hive of activity by day, but now, in the late hours, it was quiet in here. The house-elves, always so helpful and friendly, had agreed to let you use their space for your baking adventures. Their big eyes (they were the size of a tennis ball!) and cheerful smiles greeted you as you entered, and a few of the elves lingered to offer assistance if needed, but most retreated to give you privacy, seeing you had arrived with your boyfriend, hand in hand.

The kitchen was vast, filled with long wooden tables, towering shelves stocked with every ingredient imaginable, and gleaming copper pots and pans hanging from hooks on the walls. The scent of spices and baked goods from the diner lingered in the air. The hearth, usually roaring with flames, was now a gentle glow, casting a warm light that added to the cozy atmosphere.

You and Mattheo set to work. "Alright, Chef Riddle," you said with a teasing grin on your face, helping him to tie an apron around his waist, "let's see if you can keep up."

He shook his head at you and offered you an arrogant smirk, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Just try to keep up with me," he retorted, grabbing a flour sack with a dramatic flourish.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you began gathering the ingredients for your chosen recipes. Tonight, you had decided to bake a variety of treats: cookies and pastries that had been on your mind for weeks. The house-elves had thoughtfully provided fresh ingredients, and the counters were soon laden with bowls of flour, sugar, butter, and eggs.

The first task was to prepare the dough for the cookies. You measured out the ingredients, your movements practiced and efficient, while Mattheo attempted to follow along, his competitive nature driving him to match your pace. 

"Don't forget the vanilla," you reminded him, adding a splash to your own bowl.

He nodded, carefully measuring out the extract. "Got it. How do you know so much about baking anyway?" he asked, his tone curious but impressed.

You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. "Years of practice with my grandmama. She taught me everything I know."

As you mixed the dough, the rich, sweet aroma filled the kitchen, mingling with the lingering scents of past meals. You stole a glance at Mattheo, who was diligently working beside you, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, usually so busy with his wand, were now covered in flour and sugar, a sight that made you giggle.

"What's so funny?" he asked, feigning offense but unable to hide his smile. There was no way he could. Your smile brought out the best in him. 

"You," you replied, leaning over to swipe a bit of flour onto his nose. "You're a natural baker."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Just don't expect me to start wearing one of those frilly pink aprons."

With the cookie dough prepared, you moved on to the pastries. Rolling out the dough, you instructed Mattheo on how to fold in the butter to create flaky layers. He listened intently, his usual loud temperament now tempered by a genuine desire to learn by your side. You worked side by side, your hands brushing occasionally as you passed ingredients and tools back and forth.  The house-elves had left a pot of hot cocoa on the stove, and you poured two mugs, the rich, velvety liquid a perfect complement to the cozy atmosphere.

"Cheers," Mattheo said, raising his mug to meet yours with a wink. 

"Cheers," you replied, clinking your mug against his. The cocoa was rich and creamy, warming you from the inside out.

As you wiped your hands on a towel, Mattheo’s deep gaze lingered on your face. "You’ve got a bit of flour . . ." he said softly, leaning in. His fingers brushed against your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. 

His hand lingered there for a moment longer, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. The playful atmosphere shifted, and the well-known tension filled the space between the two of you. Time seemed to slow as he moved even closer, his breath mingling with yours. Before you could fully process the moment, his lips were on yours, soft and warm, tasting faintly of cocoa and the sweetness of the evening.

You responded instinctively, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. He deepened the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, pulling you even closer than you were. The kiss was both gentle and urgent, warming your soul and mind. 

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. The kitchen, with its warmth and golden light, felt like a different world, one where only the two of you existed. Mattheo’s dark eyes searched yours, a mixture of vulnerability and affection hidden in his irises.

"That was..." he began, but you silenced him with another quick kiss, smiling against his lips as your fingers gripped the hair at the back of his nape. 

"Perfect," you finished for him, your heart full to bursting.

In that quiet, golden-lit room, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the comforting presence of your sweet boyfriend, you knew you had found something truly special. The baking, the laughter, the stolen kiss – it all came together to create a moment of pure magic, one you would cherish forever.

03 - PAINTING 

The art room at Hogwarts was a hidden gem, tucked away in a lesser-known corner of the castle not so many students knew about. It was a spacious, high-ceilinged room filled with the scents of paint and canvas, the walls adorned with student artwork from years past. The large windows let in the afternoon sunlight, casting a warm glow over the space. Easels stood ready with blank canvases, and tables were laden with paints, brushes, and palettes.

You and Mattheo had decided to spend the afternoon here, taking a break from the usual hustle of school life.

"Alright," you said, setting up your easel and arranging your paints. "Remember, every five minutes, we switch."

Mattheo nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Got it. But don’t expect anything too impressive from me. I can barely draw a straight line."

You laughed, squeezing a bit of blue paint onto your palette. "That’s the fun of it. Just go with the flow."

With everything ready, you both took your places in front of your easels. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft rustle of brushes on canvas and the occasional clink of paint jars. You started with broad strokes, laying down a wash of color to form the background. Your movements were confident and sure, years of practice guiding your hand.

Mattheo, on the other hand, approached his canvas with a bit more trepidation. He dipped his brush into the paint and made his first tentative strokes, glancing over at you occasionally for inspiration. You smiled reassuringly, giving him a thumbs-up. Despite his self-professed lack of skill, there was something endearing about the way he threw himself into the task, determined to make the best of it.

The first five minutes flew by, and soon it was time to switch. You moved to Mattheo’s easel, examining his work with a thoughtful smile. He had started with a simple landscape, a few rolling hills under a blue sky. It was basic, but it had potential. You picked up a brush and began to add your own touches, blending colors and adding a bit of story to the scene.

Mattheo moved to your canvas, eyes widening at the intricate swirls of color you had already laid down. "Wow," he murmured, "how am I supposed to add to this?"

"Just do your best," you replied, a playful challenge in your voice.

The next five minutes passed in a blur of color and creativity. You found yourself getting lost in the process, enjoying the way your styles melded together. When it was time to switch again, you couldn’t help but laugh at the changes Mattheo had made to your painting. The Slytherin had added a few playful touches, turning a serene sky into a playful scene with cartoonish clouds.

"Nice touch," you said, grinning at him as you moved back to your easel.

He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. "I figured it needed a bit of character."

As the afternoon wore on, Mattheo grew increasingly confident. With each switch, he added bolder strokes and more imaginative elements to the paintings. His hesitation gave way to a sense of pride and enthusiasm that was too difficult to not return. You found yourself enjoying the challenge of working with his unpredictable thoughts, the paintings slowly turning into mosaics of your combined efforts.

By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the art room, you both stepped back to admire your work. The canvases were a glimpse of color and creativity, showing the teamwork you put into it. The landscape Mattheo had started was now a dreamlike scene, with white clouds and pretty flowers woven into the hills and sky. The painting you had begun was equally transformed, full of charm and ideas. 

Your boyfriend crossed his arms, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad for a guy who can’t paint, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not bad at all. I’m impressed."

He tilted his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe I’m more talented than I thought. Perhaps I missed my calling as an artist." 

"Don’t get too full of yourself, Riddle. But I have to admit, you did better than I expected," you rolled your eyes playfully at him. That was your man, after all. 

"Better than expected?" he repeated, brows furrowed as he brought a hand to his heart. "I think you mean I was brilliant."

You reached up to brush a stray bit of paint from his cheek, your fingers lingering for a moment. "Alright, Picasso. I’ll give you that. You were brilliant."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer. "Thanks for teaching me. I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. "We should do it again."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. "Definitely."

[aligned-starz]

Little Dragon | t.n.

Theodore Nott x Female!Reader

Summary: You are not a fan of one of his admirers and he thinks you are a pretty idiot.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Jealousy, Fluff, mentions of snow lol, a hint suggestive at the end if you squint

A/N: I haven't written in a while. This is just a fun little thing, an hors d'œuvre if you will.

Abigail was nothing if not brazen. It had taken you years to be comfortable in the presence of Slytherin's most exclusive group. For a while you didn't even realize Pansy Parkinson had considered you anything more than a suitemate let alone a friend until she hexed Lacy Cressilda for calling you bitch. And Draco Malfoy barely dignified you with anything more than a smirk until one night he was trashed out of his mind and proclaimed that he would help you hide a body should you ever need. You assured him you wouldn't.

It was only by 6th year did you feel fully welcomed into the friend group. Now instead of getting wary glances when you sat with them at dinner, you were getting indignant glances when you joined other friends of yours for a change of pace.

But seeing Abigail seat herself comfortably between Draco and Theo, smiling easily and joining into the conversation seamlessly made you falter. Abigail Thorn had never really interacted with your friends. Though she was a sixth year Slytherin, her group of friends never really crossed paths with yours. At least, not until last term when Abigail started sitting closer by in the great hall, tugging along unwilling friends, or switching seats with annoyed Hufflepuffs to sit next to one of you in Potions. And now, relaxing in the common room when mostly everyone else had slinked up to bed, she had found her way into the conversation, her friends long since retired. 

You watched her from your seat on the opposing couch. The fireplace was dousing the room in a dancing orange glow, illuminating smiling faces and slouched forms. Someone had tossed a cinnamon stick directly onto the firewood so the room smelled of autumn spices and smoke. Mattheo made a crude joke from his spot laying on the green-woven rug on the floor in front of the hearth and Abigail let out a laugh, leaned forward, and rested her hand on Theo's knee.

A swirling green monster crawled up your throat and wrapped its tendrils around your neck. Your eyes zeroed in on her hand, fingers flexing on the dark material of his pants, and imagined shooting out a nasty stinging hex. You glanced up to see Theo's dark eyes swoop down to the hand on his leg. He eye'ed it, eye'ed her, then slowly, delicately in the soft-quiet way he does most things, moved her hand back to her lap. You wanted to feel pleased at that action, pleased that he didn't want her touching him but she moved again, her lips moving around words you weren't paying attention to as your eyes stared at her hand creeping through his arm to lock it with hers. And then with a smile, she rested her cheek on the curve of his shoulder.

You felt like you were on fire. Heat flared up your spine, flushing your cheeks and the back of your neck. The forest-green turtle neck you were wearing was suddenly choking you and you felt like if you didn't get up in that very moment then you would self-destruct.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you muttered softly to Pansy who gave you a nod while keeping her attention on one of Mattheo's long-winded stories.

You headed straight for the common room door. It was after curfew but you didn't care if one of the prefects saw you walking around. You just needed fresh air. You needed to freeze out all the raging fire in your lungs, squash it into a piteous puff of smoke. You shot out of the nearest door and found yourself in one of the stone courtyards. The ground was blanketed in a sweep of fresh snow clear and untouched. A few stray snowflakes fluttered in the air, glittering in the firelight of scattered torches, replacing the lack of stars in the dark milky sky. You took a deep breath and welcomed the icy air that cut through your chest. It sizzled your anger until only a pile of ashy shame was left.

Theodore Nott was no one to you but a friend. You had no possessive claim to him like your body seemed to think. He could touch whoever he wanted, be touched by whoever he wanted. And you had no right to get so upset at the thought. But you were. You hated even the briefest moment seeing him with another girl. If the thought of him linking arms with a girl was enough to make you want to hex her you could only imagine the nightmare you'd be when he actually got a girlfriend.

You felt like you could be sick. You took another deep breath and then another. Closing your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest as if to shut out all of your buzzing thoughts. A swirl of wind sent a dusting of snow across your stocking-clad legs, your skirt giving you little protection but you welcomed it, hoped it would help distract you so that when you found the courage to go back inside you were less of a raging psychopath.

"Are you alright?"

His voice cut through the still of the night and sent a shock down your back. Your eyes shot open and you turned to see Theo slowly walking up to you, hands in his pockets, shiny leather shoes crunching on compact snow.

"Yeah. Fine. Just–" you breathed out slightly, hot air puffing into the cold night, arms tightening across your sternum, "hot."

His eyes were dark and gleaming under the night sky. You couldn't help but squirm whenever they stayed on you for too long as if your body physically couldn't handle their intensity. They trailed down your crossed arms, over your fluttering green-plaid skirt, and down your legs, goosebumps barely concealed through the sheer tights. Then his eyes, dark and deep and heavy, found yours again.

"You look cold," he concluded.

"I'm– Well, now . . . yes," you stumbled on your words and hoped that he thought the pink creeping across your cheeks was because of the frigid air and not your scrambled nerves, "but it's . . . good."

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"It's good?" He echoed, eyebrows raising and smirk pulling up the corners of his lips. "You're shaking."

You didn't notice until he said it but you did feel a tremble in your body.

"I like it," you replied. Half true, half lie. You liked it enough to distract you but your legs were starting to feel numb and your teeth were starting to thrum together in a quiet symphony.

"You like it," he echoed again and you knew he could smell your fibs like food. Theo was a bloodhound for lies.

"I just–," your eyes flickered to his and then back to the courtyard when you couldn't hold his stare any longer, "–needed some air."

You heard him step closer, snow crunching underneath his footsteps. He was quiet for a few moments, looking out at the empty courtyard with you, watching the snow flurries and taking in the icy air.

"You're angry," he stated, breaking up the quiet. His voice was soft and low but it sent a shockwave down your spine.

"I'm not," you deflected before you could think. You could feel his gaze fall to the side of your face but knew if you met those keen eyes your facade would crack and splinter.

"You are," he assured. You wanted to argue, spit back a retort and stroke the burning anger that apparently you weren't hiding well enough.

"And how would you know that?" You replied, words as tight as the arms crossed over your chest.

"Because you're brooding," he said and you felt yourself bristle. This time your eyes met his and you frowned, narrowing them at his crinkling in the corners as his smile tugged up.

"I'm not," you tried to think of something to defend yourself, or something clever so his attention would be diverted, but all you could settle on was, "I do not brood."

"No?" He let out a hum, hand reaching into the depths of his pocket to pull out a beat-up pack of cigarettes. He slid one out, tapping it seemingly unconsciously against the side of the cardboard as he picked through the thoughts in his head. You watched as his thumb and pointer finger pinched the rim and ignited a small flame enough for it to start smoking. You'd seen him do it before but felt just as breathless seeing it again, Theo and his wand-less tricks.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours again and your heart felt like it was getting vacuumed into your stomach at their heaviness, at their weight. His eyes, dark and shining, enticing enough that they seemed to weave their own spells. You felt rooted to the spot, powerless to tear your gaze away. He brought the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling, holding the breath, then exhaling a swirling cloud of smoke into the night, his eyes keeping yours captive.

"If I look hard enough I might be able to see smoke coming out of your ears," he commented. His smirk grew at your flushed cheeks.

Finally, finally you were able to rip your eyes away, glaring at one of the weeping angel statues of the fountain nestled in the middle of the courtyard. You were silent, pushing through scrambled thoughts, trying to find a placating excuse. Enough so that he wouldn't make you admit how pathetic you were being.

"Come on, my little dragon. Tell me what's wrong and I'll make it better," he drawled, taking another inhale of his cigarette.

Your insides burned at the nick-name.

"Is–" You bit the inside of your cheek, debating, deciding, before relenting, eyes shutting tight as you forced the next few words out of your mouth, "Are you and Abigail close?"

He was quiet for a moment. You counted to ten, then ten again before daring to open your eyes and cast a wary look at him. All teasing amusement was gone.

"Abigail?" He finally said. He looked surprised, brows tugging in at the center of his face like he was trying to decipher a riddle. "I hardly know her."

The words stroked your blazing core, calming it slightly. You mulled them over in your mind but stabbing images of her arm in his, her hand on his knee had the inner flame in your chest roaring. Theo was watching you carefully, as if only now seeing your real ire.

"Right," you muttered, feeling guilt and jealously and anger and shame weave together in your gut.

"Did she," he took a careful step closer so you could smell the aroma of his cigarette intertwining with his cologne that hung on him like shadows. Dark and woodsy and spiced. "Did she say something to you?"

His tone was soft but you could hear the twinge of sharpness. The silent assurance that if she had he would be stalking off to her in retaliation. And though the thought of lying and releasing Theo's acid anger on her pleased you, you knew it wouldn't be fair. Realistically, she had been nothing but kind to you. If only she had been unpleasant. Then you'd at least feel less guilty turning Theo against her.

But you weren't that evil. At least not tonight.

"No," you admitted, keeping your hard glare facing the dark sky. He waited for you to continue, to give voice to the cacophony of thoughts he could see buzzing behind your stormy eyes. You debated waiting him out, testing his patience until he sighed and relented and decided he was going back inside. But if you were a master of the long game, Theo was the creator.

"She was just . . . being very friendly towards you. And I wasn't sure–I didn't know if you knew her like that–" you let out a frustrated huff, welcoming the icy sting of the winter air as you sucked in another breath, "I just think that if, maybe, you got a girlfriend or something you'd tell us or something or–" you huffed again, "Or you'd warn me–Us. I mean–" you cut yourself off.

"Girlfriend?" He seemed well and truly shocked now. He let out a chocked laugh, staring at you with wide eyes. "You think she's my girlfriend?"

You felt like a fool. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and you wanted to launch yourself off the edge of the courtyard and swan dive into the depths of the Black Lake, never to be heard from again.

"She was all over you. She was laying on you–" you bristled again, invisible wings flaring. You met his gaze and glared at him but he only laughed again, a rich smooth laugh that had your nerves zapping your insides.

"You're jealous," he finally said, eyes bright and blazing as he regarded you.

"I'm–" you couldn't even bring yourself to deny it. You had said far too much. You should've stalked off to the bathroom like you had said. Then maybe you could've drowned yourself in the toilet instead of being here, facing up to this.

"You're an idiot." His words felt like a slap. You opened your mouth to respond with an equally cutting remark but he spoke first.

"Her? Really? You're daft. And blind," he took a step closer until the tip of his leather shoe nudged your own and you had to crane your neck up to glare at him, "And–"

"If you keep insulting me I'm going to hex you," you threatened.

He reached out a hand and cupped the back of your neck. His fingers pressed into the skin, circling and massaging the muscle until you felt yourself deflate.

"Aren't you supposed to be smart? How could you possibly think it would be her?" He was so close now that every breath smelled of him and his cologne.

"Theo," your voice turned pleading.

His hand moved slowly from your neck up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into the silky strands.

"This has to be a cruel game that you're playing," he murmured, face inching ever closer. His eyes were piercing yours and you felt helpless to move, helpless to even speak. "You have to know what I feel for you."

Your lungs felt like they had been filled with ice. Your mouth opened but no words came out. He was so close to you and his eyes were suffocating you and you felt like you might well and truly burn up from the inside out.

His free hand, cigarette lost to the frozen ground, curved around the plush of your cheek. His thumb swiped the velvet skin under your eye and you didn't think you were breathing anymore.

"I only want your skin to touch mine," he finally said. His voice was so low, so soft, it caressed your burning cheeks. Your hands, numb from the cold, found their way to his chest, clutching at the wool of his dark sweater. He hummed in satisfaction.

"Only you are allowed to touch me," he breathed, eyes skimming your face, darting between your eyes. "Understand?"

You nodded mutely and he hummed again. Then his lips were touching yours. Warm and velvet lips caressing your own frost kissed ones. He exhaled into the kiss, his breath tickling your face. Your hands clutched at him, tugging him ever closer as you sunk into the kiss. Your body melted, relaxing into him, a rush of relief soaking down your spine and extinguishing the flames that had been coiling up your back. His kisses turned deeper, more desperate. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip then his lips soothed the sting. The hand at your cheek pulled away and you were close to whining before he was wrapping it around your waist, hoisting you higher, closer, chests pressing together so he could deepen his kisses and steal the air from your burning lungs.

It was a while before he pulled away. He admired your flushed cheeks and starry eyes that blinked up at him. His fingers woven in your hair tightened, gripping. You couldn't ignore the flash of pleasure that erupted in your stomach.

"Next time you decide to have a tantrum, at least come get me first," he murmured, words rumbling through kiss-bitten lips. You would've glared if you could think straight. But your mind was hazy and your lips were tingling and all you could think about was kissing him again.

[aligned-starz]

♯ DEALER ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!ravenclaw!reader

SYNOPSIS! smoking had never interested you before but when the local dealer catches your eye, you might get the experience of a professional

WORD COUNT! 2.9k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! smoking, theo is hogwarts’ dealer, reader is inexperienced in the area of smoking, theo teaches reader how to smoke, kissing

NOTES! i do NOT promote smoking / dealing in this, it’s simply a work of fiction!

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

CIGARETTES, SLENDER CYLINDERS OF FINELY CUT TOBACCO WRAPPED IN PAPER, HAVE LONG HELD A FASCINATION FOR MANY. Each drag brings a mix of sensations: the initial spark and crackle as the flame meets the tip, the first inhalation that fills the lungs with a warm, almost soothing burn, and the exhalation that releases a plume of smoke, curling and dissipating into the air like whispers. The nicotine within offers a swift release, a rush that calms the nerves and sharpens the focus, although temporarily.

In the heart of Hogwarts, where the whispers of ancient stories mingled with the soft rustle of parchment, existed a sacred place of knowledge known to all as the library. To the ordinary eye, it was just a place of shelves filled with dusty books and boring atmosphere. But to those who knew where to look, was a hidden secret only some had the privilege of knowing. It was here, that Theodore Nott found his sweet spot.

Theodore Nott moved with a smooth, practiced ease. He blended in perfectly, among the towering shelves and the scent of old books. To most, he was just another student, perhaps a bit more mysterious than others. But to those who sought him out, he was a source of comfort, someone who could give them relief from the intense pressures of their magical education. A dealer.

Theo's operations were known to be like a well-choreographed dance. A subtle nod here, a quiet exchange there, all under the watchful yet unsuspecting eyes of Madam Pince. The library was the perfect place for his discreet business. It offered the privacy and anonymity that his clients needed - students from various houses looking for a way to escape their stresses.

Cigarettes, slender and neatly wrapped, were his main product to sell. Easily accessible and easily sold. Each one was more than just a tobacco roll; it was an object of escape. Theo understood the draw of that first spark, the way the flame flickered before lighting a moment of calm. He saw it in their eyes - the relief as the smoke filled their lungs and the world's worries seemed to disappear, even if just for a moment. He wasn't just selling cigarettes; he was providing a brief moment of peace.

But the Slytherin's trade wasn't limited to tobacco. For those in deeper need, he offered small vials of potions, each carefully brewed and discreetly hidden. These elixirs could calm stressed nerves or boost a tired mind, depending on what was needed. Theo got everything you could dream of.

His reputation spread quietly through whispers in common rooms and soft murmurs in the Great Hall. To some, he was a lifeline; to others, a tempting distraction. And through it all, Theodore Nott remained a mystery, a figure covered in secrecy, walking the fine line between the pursuit of knowledge and the lure of the forbidden.

He was intelligent, cunning, and unbelievably handsome. No one would suspect him for a dealer.

That boy got your interest.

You stood hidden behind a tall shelf in the back corner of the library, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you peered through the gap between two dusty volumes of Hogwarts: History. The library was quiet, the usual hum of activity reduced to a soft whisper. You were careful to keep yourself concealed, not wanting anyone to notice your presence, least of all the Slytherin boy.

Your eyes were fixed on Theo, who was standing in a quiet corner of the library, partially hidden by the towering bookshelves. His movements were smooth and calculated as he reached into his cloak and pulled out a small vial filled with a bright blue potion. The vial shimmered under the soft light, casting an ethereal glow that caught the eye of the Hufflepuff girl standing nervously before him.

Theo handed the potion over with a calm, practiced ease, his expression unreadable. The Hufflepuff quickly slipped a handful of coins into Theo's hand, their fingers brushing briefly before the girl tucked the potion into her robes and hurried away nervously. You watched as Theo carefully counted the money,

Good to know you won't be first to approach him with those feelings.

You stepped out from the safety of your hidden place, your heart racing as you made your way towards Theo. The decision had been made in your mind - you needed those cigarettes, even though you had never smoked a single one in your entire life. The Slytherin interested you, and what was better than the idea of approaching him with a business offer?

Theo's eyes flickered up as you approached and a flicker of surprise appeared on his face before he quickly masked it by his usual calm demeanor. He had noticed you before, the pretty Ravenclaw with the fierce personality, always absorbed in your studies. You were the exact opposite of his usual clientele, and that piqued his interest. What was the Ravenclaw's good girl doing here, with him?

He watched you with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, noting the determined set of your jaw and the way your fingers clenched around the strap of your bag that clung to your shoulder. You were nervous, that much was clear, but there was also a resolve in your eyes that he couldn't ignore.

As you came to a stop before him, the faint scent of old books and parchment lingering in the air between the two of you, Theo tilted his head slightly. "[Last name]," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. This would be interesting. "What brings you here?"

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. "I need some cigarettes," you said, the tome of your voice firm despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Theo's eyes narrowed slightly, appraising you. He had seen many students come to him for relief, but your request was something he wasn't expecting in the slightest. Still, he had watched you from afar, intrigued by your quiet determination and the air of mystery that surrounded you. Could you blame him though? You were pretty, smart, and had a flicker of fire in you.

Just Theo's type.

Your request hung in the air, tension crackling between you like static electricity. Theo's gaze softened, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding as he considered your plea. Sure, he was a dealer, but he wasn't heartless.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he began cautiously, his silver eyes flickering over your determined expression. "You've never smoked before, have you?"

Well, that was surprising. How did he know that? You shook your head. "No, but I need something, anything."

Theo paused, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. He knew the risks of smoking, the addictive grip it could have on a person's life. Merlin, he smoked almost every single day, of course he knew. Yet, as he studied you, he couldn't not notice the desperation in your eyes - the same desperation that had driven countless others to seek him out.

But you  wanted him for something entirely different.

Finally, with a sigh, he relented, his hand reaching out to offer you the pack of cigarettes in his hold. "I'll give them to you, but only if I can share one with you," he proposed, his voice soft yet firm, insisting on it. He wouldn't take a no for an answer in this. "And I'll teach you properly how to smoke. It's not something to take lightly."

Your eyes widened in surprise, gratitude flooding your features. Your plan worked. “Thank you, Theo," you breathed out a sigh of relief. "That means a lot."

The Slytherin nodded and a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Consider it a lesson in the art of stress relief," he said with a hint of amusement in his tone. "And the pack of cigarettes? It's on the house."

Decisions are the threads that weave the fabric of our lives, guiding us along paths both familiar and unknown. Good decisions illuminate our journey of life, leading us towards fulfillment and growth. They are born from careful consideration, informed by wisdom and experience, and guided by values and aspirations. In contrast, bad decisions cast shadows upon our path, obscuring our vision and stirring doubt and regret within us. They arise from impulsivity, fear, or ignorance, leading us astray and causing pain and disappointment. Yet even in the bad decisions, there lies the potential for growth and resilience, as we learn from our mistakes and strive to make wiser choices in the future.

You wondered if asking Theo for the cigarettes was a good idea.

You stepped into the cool night air of the Astronomy Tower, the darkness enveloped you like a familiar shadow. Above, the sky stretched out, filled with millions of flicker kisses stars. The moon, a delicate crescent hanging low on the horizon, cast a gentle glow over the landscape.

You tilted your head back, your gaze drawn upward to the constellations that adorned the heavens. To your left, the recognizable figure of Orion stood out, its three bright stars forming the distinct shape of the Hunter's Belt. Nearby, the sprawling form of the Great Bear dominated the northern sky, its outline marked by the gleaming North Star. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you identified the graceful curves of Cassiopeia, the Queen of Ethiopia, her celestial throne outlined by a delicate arrangement of stars. Nearby, the Pleiades cluster sparkled like a cluster of diamonds, its seven luminous stars casting a soft glow against the night sky.

The sinuous shape of Draco, the Dragon, snaked its way across the firmament, its serpentine form twisting and turning amidst the sea of stars. You through of the person whose name matched, and hung out around Theodore Nott every day since the beginning of your years at Hogwarts.

Theodore Nott. Of course your mind would run to him.

You found yourself leaning against the worn wooden railing of the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, the cool metal digging into your forearms as you stared down at the pack of cigarettes you had received from Theodore nestled in your hand. With a heavy sigh, you traced the embossed design on the pack with your fingertips, your thoughts drifting like wisps of smoke on the night breeze again.

You had never imagined yourself in this position, a cigarette pack in hand, contemplating the choices that had brought you to this moment. Funny how decisions were full of consequences.

Theo - the quiet boy from Slytherin who had caught your eye despite the whispers that surrounded him. He was the one who seemed to exist on the fringes of Hogwarts' social circles, yet commanded a silent respect from those who sought him out for his promised offerings.

You couldn't deny the curiosity he stirred within you, the way his piercing silver eyes seemed to hold secrets untold, and his cold presence beckoned you like a moth to a flame. Despite the stark differences between the two of you - you, the respected Ravenclaw, he, the mysterious dealer from Slytherin - there was an undeniable pull between you, a magnetic force that defied logic and reason of the question: why?

Opposites attract, they say, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was truth to the saying.

Before you could react any further, Theodore Nott appeared beside you, his presence as silent and mysterious as ever. The faint scent of tobacco and earthy cologne trailed behind him. He smelled nice.

Without a word, he materialized a slender cigarette from his pocket, the tip ready to glow with a soft ember by the time he placed it in the corner of his mouth. He held the cigarette between his fingers and without breaking eye contact, he spoke in a low, calm voice, guiding you through the new experience with a patience you hadn't expected.

"First, hold it like this," Theo instructed, gently placing the cigarette between your fingers, positioning it just right. His touch was light, almost fleeting, but enough to send a spark of fire through you. You mimicked his hold, feeling the slightly rough texture of the cigarette paper against your skin. Theo's fingers lingered briefly over yours, adjusting your grip until he was satisfied.

"Now, bring it to your lips."

You felt a nervous tremor in your chest as you positioned the cigarette between your lips, its unfamiliar weight resting delicately. The cool night air brushed against your skin, but all you could focus on was Theo, standing close enough that you could see the slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, never left yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. How could a man be this beautiful?

Theo raised his wand, the tip glowing softly. "Hold still," he murmured, his voice low and steady. You complied, your breath hitching in the back of your throat as the wand's flame drew nearer.

He leaned in, his fingers brushing your cheek as he steadied the cigarette. The moment stretched out, and with a flick of his wand, the tip of the cigarette ignited, the flame casting a warm, flickering light over your face. It felt oddly comforting.

"Now, take a slow, deep inhale," Theo instructed, his eyes never wavering from yours. The flame's glow highlighted the depths of his gaze, making the moment feel both surreal and intimate.

You did as he said, drawing the smoke into your mouth. The initial harshness made your eyes water, but Theo's unwavering gaze kept you grounded.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice a soothing sound to your nerves. "You're doing fine."

As you exhaled, your shoulders relaxed as well, the initial discomfort easing into something more manageable. Theo's proximity made the experience less daunting.

"Again," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. "Slow and steady."

You gave him a nod, your eyes still locked onto his as you took another drag, this time more controlled, more assured. The smoke filled your lungs, and as you exhaled, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Theo's lips curved into a small, approving smile, a silent acknowledgment of your progress and your heart skipped a beat.

Just as you started to feel more confident in your actions, Theo reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the cigarette from your hand.

With a deft movement, he placed it between his own lips, a smirk playing on his face. Your breath hitched as you watched him, your eyes drawn to the way his lips curved around the cigarette. The pink lipgloss you had carefully applied earlier left a delicate mark on the paper, and now Theo's lips were tasting the gloss.

His eyes glinted with amusement as he took a slow, deliberate drag, inhaling deeply. The ember flared briefly, casting a warm glow over his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, making him look like an angel. As he exhaled, the smoke curled and twisted in the air between the two of you, dissipating into the night.

He removed the cigarette and examined it, his thumb tracing the faint outline of your lipgloss. The smirk on his lips grew more pronounced, a blend of amusement and something deeper, something almost appreciative. He turned his gaze back to you, the intensity of his stare making your pulse quicken.

"Interesting choice," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the words punctuated by a cloud of smoke. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to the cigarette, the smirk never leaving his face. "Pink suits you."

Without fully understanding what compelled you in the moment, you felt yourself drawn towards Theo, the world around you fading into a blur. You leaned in, the distance between you closing in a heartbeat. The night air seemed to hold its breath as you moved, your focus entirely on Theo's face, his smirk fading into a look of surprise.

Your lips met his with a gentle urgency, capturing the soft, teasing smile that had been playing on his mouth like it was nothing. The cigarette fell from his fingers, forgotten as his hands moved to cup your face, the coolness of his skin contrasting with the warmth of your own.

The kiss deepened, and you felt the soft flutter of his eyelashes at the apples of your cheeks.

When the two of you finally broke apart, breathless and wide-eyed, the night air seemed to rush back in, filling the space between you. Your heart raced, your mind reeling from what you had just done. You searched Theo's eyes for a reaction, finding a mix of surprise and something that looked remarkably like admiration.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence stretching out, filled with unasked questions and unspoken answers. Theo's smirk returned, softer this time, as he ran a thumb over your cheek, brushing away a stray lock of hair.

"Well, that was unexpected."

You nodded, your own lips curving into a shy smile. "I don't know what came over me," admitting, your voice barely held the tone of a whisper.

Theo's gaze softened, his fingers lingering on your soft lips. "I'm glad you did it," he said quietly, the words hanging in the air between you.

Tonight had changed everything, and you couldn't wait to see where this path would lead. After all, the consequences of your actions didn't disappoint and you would be a fool to let the aftermath of it go.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[aligned-starz]

Romance Languages

Middle image from mewwons on Pinterest here, others mine

Theodore Nott x Reader

Word count: approx. 4.5k

Summary: You and Theodore Nott have a little weekly ritual that you’ve always enjoyed. There’s definitely not any meaning to it, no matter what Pansy Parkinson says.

Warnings/be aware: she/her reader, Ravenclaw reader, Italian!Theo, google translate Italian, use of Y/N, slight time skip, fluff fluff fluffiest fluff

A/N: This is so cheesy and fun, I had an amazing time writing it.

There are some places where I didn't translate the Italian for the sake of not spoiling the story, but all will be clear in good time :)

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There was a sort of rhythm to your Fridays at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that you’d become quite fond of as a sixth-year.

            First, you had Transfiguration, one of the most difficult classes on your schedule (rivaled only by Ancient Runes), but also one of the most rewarding. Then you had Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, another course you enjoyed. You loved being able to get outside during the day and interact with the creatures of the forest while learning more about them. After lunch was your final class of the day and your absolute favorite, double Charms. Professor Flitwick was your Head of House and one of the kindest people you knew. The two of you had bonded during your first year when you’d been bullied by some third-years and he’d been a mentor to you ever since. You'd also grown to become a strong student of the subject itself. At the end of the previous year, you’d scored an O on your Charms OWL and when you’d returned to the class for your NEWT level, he’d quietly let you know that you’d earned one of the highest scores in your year. The Charms classroom was your comfort zone, your favorite place to retreat to after a long day.

            You also enjoyed your last class of the day because many of your friends had decided to take NEWT Charms as well. Each day, you sat next to your best friend, Padma Patil, and in front of two Slytherin girls who were quickly growing on you, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass. Though the Slytherins usually kept to themselves, you and Pansy had bonded after being named Potions partners the previous year and remained friends, sharing notes for your classes and the occasional tidbits about Hogwarts romances and parties. Pansy's approval had been enough to persuade Daphne of your likeability, and you'd made another friend.

            After greeting Professor Flitwick and setting your books down near Padma, Pansy, and Daphne, you came to the next part of your Friday routine. Theo Nott, a dark-haired popular boy with an angular face and mischievous eyes, approached your desk as usual. He was the dream guy of half the Hogwarts population, and you could see why. Though you’d never admit it, his attention definitely made you a little flustered.

            “Buon pomeriggio, belissima.” He wore a confident little smirk as you giggled, your afternoon ritual familiar.

            “Hi, Theo.” You smiled at him and he winked before returning to his seat near the back of the classroom with the other boys from Slytherin. Before every Charms class since the end of the previous year, Theo Nott had greeted you by saying something random in Italian. You had no clue what any of it meant or how it had started, but you weren’t complaining. The first time you’d encountered Theo outside of sharing classes with the Slytherins was when you and Pansy had started hanging out together. The two of you had a few conversations about Quidditch and music, and you were able to detect his southern European accent, but you’d never known that he could speak Italian until one random day in fifth-year Charms when he’d approached you before class.

            “Vorresti venire a cena con me?” Theo murmured. His eyes were oddly soft – he looked more gentle than you’d ever seen him.

            You laughed. “What the heck does that mean?” His subtle expression quickly became a smirk, his eyes sparkling.

            “That’s for me to know, and you to, well…” He strode back over to the other side of the classroom, as elusive as ever.

            It became a pattern between the two of you, him greeting you with some random phrase in a language you didn’t understand and you laughing it off, saying hello to him in English. You’d wondered if he would stop after the end of your fifth year, but when he’d spotted you in NEWT Charms, he’d immediately resumed the ritual. You were glad, and not just because he was paying attention to you. It felt like you could see another side of him when he spoke his first language, like he was letting you in on a different part of himself.

             As you sat down after your brief conversation with Theo, Padma raised her eyebrows at you playfully.

            “Oh, hush.” You laughed, shoving her playfully as you rolled her eyes. You knew what she was going to say before she said it.

            “You’ve got to jump on that, are you kidding?” She shook her head, her thick ebony ponytail swishing back and forth behind her. “He’s so hot and you have an opening!”

            “I do not ‘have an opening,’ Padma.” You grinned exasperatedly. “Besides, you need to be quiet. You’ll only inflate his ego if he hears you.”

            “If only I had your self-restraint. If Theo Nott talked to me…”

            “If he came up to you and said a bunch of random words to you in a language you don’t understand, I’m sure you’d be just as confused as I am.”

            “What does it matter what language he’s speaking?” She threw her hands up in the air dramatically. “He’s attractive in all of them.” You sighed, laughing softly to yourself. As much as you loved Padma, she had no idea what she was talking about. Theo could have any girl he wanted, you definitely weren’t going to ‘have an opening’ with him anytime soon.

            Professor Flitwick began the lesson and you attentively followed his demonstration as he walked the class through drills of the Extinguishing Spell. You soon mastered the technique and Flitwick instructed you to walk around the classroom and help others as they sought to extinguish the fire that he’d conjured. As you finished correcting Dean Thomas’s aim, you glanced around the room and saw that Hermione had also been employed to help, along with Theo. Your eyes locked with his as he turned in your direction and you felt your face flush as you looked away quickly.

            “Impressive, bella.” He raised his eyebrows as his path crossed yours. You rolled your eyes playfully at his need to throw in a little Italian for good measure.

            “Thanks,” you replied politely. You smiled at him, though you found yourself unable to meet his eyes. Internally shaking your head at your own easily flustered nature, you walked away quickly.

            After Megan Jones’s spell backfired and her flame got a bit out of hand, Professor Flitwick brought the drills to an end and began the second half of class, a lecture on nonverbal spells theory. You and Padma split a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans as the two of you took notes. The lecture was fascinating and you scarcely noticed time passing until you ran out of Every Flavor Beans. It wasn’t long before Flitwick called the class to a close and you packed up your things. As you and Padma left the classroom, the two of you fell into conversation with Pansy and Daphne, discussing the all-too public snog that Daphne had witnessed between Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown in the Astronomy corridor the evening before.

            “I didn’t even know they were seeing each other!” Padma remarked in surprise. “I feel sorry for her, honestly. Weasley’s a bore.”

            “Well, there were a lot of words for what they were doing, but ‘boring’ certainly wasn’t one of them,” Daphne drawled, grimacing. “It was so – “

            “Ciao, bella ragazza,” a deep voice interrupted. You turned to see Theo smirking at you and throwing you a nod as he walked past, keeping pace with Mattheo Riddle and Blaise Zabini next to him.

            “Bye, Theo.” You shook your head, grinning slightly as you waved to him. Turning back to the girls, you chuckled softly to yourself. “He’s ridiculous.”

            “Haven’t you ever wondered what he’s saying?” Pansy asked suddenly. You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

            “I guess. I don’t know, he’s just saying random stuff, right?” You shrugged. “Besides, I’m not sure I could figure it out if I tried. ‘Ciao’ is literally the only word I know, and Hogwarts doesn’t exactly keep a strong collection of Italian-to-English dictionaries.”

            “But Tomes and Scrolls has a languages collection,” Pansy countered. Daphne suddenly glanced at her, shooting her a look that you couldn’t decipher, and Pansy shook her head. “Tomorrow’s a Hogsmeade trip. You should take a look.” You furrowed your eyebrows.

            “Okay, I guess I will.” You wondered why she was so insistent about it – she’d never indicated that Theo’s assorted ramblings might be of importance before. But with your curiosity sparked, you resolved to stop by Tomes and Scrolls the next day.

            The next week, with a few books on Italian language safely tucked inside your trunk in Ravenclaw Tower, you listened carefully to the words coming from Theo’s mouth as Charms class began.

            “Tutti gli oceani del mondo non potrebbero rivaleggiare con la tua bellezza.” He shot you the same confident look as usual and you smiled back, repeating the phrase to yourself in your mind.

            “Good to see you too, Theo.” As soon as he returned to the back of the classroom, you hastily wrote everything you could remember in the margins of your parchment to reference later. Then you did your best to put it all out of your mind so that you could focus on the Charms lesson. Though you were sure that whatever the sentence meant would disappoint Pansy’s curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel a slightly intrigued as well.

            “Did you manage to get it down?” Padma hissed, glancing at your parchment as you labeled it for note-taking. You nodded.

            “Don’t get your hopes up, though.” You leaned over to whisper in your best friend’s ear. “It’s probably nothing interesting.” You paused, studying the foreign words. “If it turns out he’s been insulting me all this time, I’m gonna flip.”

            After Charms concluded, you returned to your dormitory and retrieved your new purchases from Tomes and Scrolls. Locating a particularly secluded section of the Ravenclaw common room, you sat down and began to flip through the books until you found a section with direct word translations. Painstakingly, you started with the first word and began to hunt for its meaning.

            “Tutti gli oceani del mondo – all the oceans of the world.” Your whispers to yourself cut through the silence as you studied the words. Why on Earth was Theo talking about oceans? Maybe the books were wrong. Nonetheless, you continued, trying to trust the process.

“Tutti gli oceani del mondo non potrebbero rivaleggiare con – all the oceans of the world could not rival.” What? You must’ve written something down wrong, you figured, because the words still didn’t make any sense together. Either that or you’d been right all along and Theo had just been talking nonsense for the heck of it. Maybe he thought it was funny. Out of curiosity, you searched for the last three words you’d written down.

La tua – together, they meant something like “your,” but didn’t help make the sentence any more coherent. What could oceans not rival you in? Doing magic? Eating popcorn? Rolling your eyes, you searched for the next word.

Bellezza – beauty. Huh.

“All the oceans of the world could not rival your beauty.” You stared at the sentence that had appeared on your parchment with wide eyes. It wasn’t an insult – far from it. It was actually one of the most lovely and poetic compliments you’d ever received, and you couldn’t help but let the sound of his voice echo in your head as he said them. Your lips parted in silent surprise.

            Your mind raced. Was this right? Were you even reading correctly? Was this some kind of joke or did he really mean…but how could he? He was one of the most handsome, popular guys in your year, there was no way he wouldn’t just ask you out if he really thought those things. Rejection wasn't exactly something he needed to worry about.

            Closing the book in front of you, you realized that there was only one person who could answer all your questions. As you stood, you took your piece of parchment in your hand and resolved to go find Pansy.

            Thankfully, locating Pansy didn’t require much searching. You found her sitting in the library, leaned back and filing her nails while Daphne studied across from her and Draco mumbled about something or other, his lip curled in distaste. She turned slowly at the sound of your approach, but the moment she saw your expression she sat up, interrupting Draco with haste.

            “Get, Malfoy.” She waved her hand in a shooing motion. Though Draco frowned, glancing at the two of you in confusion, he gathered up his books and stepped away from the table.

            “He didn’t have to leave.” You guiltily watched Draco sit down at another table by himself.

            “He did if we’re going to talk about what I think we’re going to talk about,” Pansy declared. “Can’t keep a secret to save his life.” She focused in on you, her expression intense. “Did you do your research?”

            “Did you know what he was saying all this time?”

            “I had my suspicions.” She paused as you pulled out a chair and sat down in Draco’s former spot. “What was this one, exactly?” Your cheeks turned pink as you handed her the parchment and her eyebrows shot up. Her curiosity piqued, Daphne sat down her quill and leaned over to look also.

            “Wow, Nott’s got more game than I thought,” Daphne said with a grin. She looked you up and down playfully. “You’re a lucky girl.”

            “But there’s no way he actually means that, right?” Both Pansy and Daphne met you with skeptical glances. “I mean, if he felt that way why wouldn’t he just ask me out?” Pansy laughed under her breath, shaking her head slightly before leaning towards you over the table.

            “Look.” Her focused expression held your attention. “What you have to understand is that Nott being popular is basically an accidental byproduct of him being really good at Quidditch and really hot. Objectively, of course. That’s not my arena.” She cleared her throat and you laughed softly. “He’s learned how to talk the talk when he wants to look cool – mostly thanks to Riddle’s terrible influence – but he’s actually kind of quiet. Reads a lot. He doesn’t really know how to put himself out there, and with the way that girls throw themselves at him, he’s never really had to.  That is, until...” She nodded in your direction.

            “Theo…Theo likes me?”

            “He hasn’t told me anything, but the way he looks at you?” She let out a breathy little chuckle, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “He’s down bad.” Your whole face turned warm.

            “Pans!” Daphne gave her friend a light smack on the arm. “And you call Draco a blabbermouth.”

            “What? If I don’t get this ball rolling, no one will. He was hitting on her in a language she doesn’t even understand!”

            “What should I do, though?” you interrupted. “I mean, I can’t just pretend that I still have no clue what he’s getting at.”

            "Then don't." Pansy looked you up and down frankly. "You've got all those language books now. Use your resources."

            You arrived to Charms the next Friday with a nervous flutter in your stomach, repeating unfamiliar words in your head. As you entered the classroom, you glanced around, nearly forgetting to wave to Professor Flitwick before you sat down. Theo hadn’t arrived yet, and neither had Daphne or Pansy. However, Padma was waiting for you, eyeing you excitedly. You’d filled her in on your discoveries after talking to Pansy, and she was thrilled (if not a little smug that she had, in fact, told you so).

            “Hello, gorgeous!” Your best friend greeted you, beaming as she pulled her knee up to her chest. “See, I’m doing my best Nott impression.” You shook your head lovingly.

            “Hi, Padma. I do believe you’d have to learn Italian to accomplish that effect.” You sat down, letting your bag fall to your side with a loud smack. “Merlin, Transfiguration was difficult today.”

            “Glad I dropped it!” she replied cheerfully. “Divination was cake.”

            “That’s because all you lot do in that class is stare into crystal balls and spout nonsense.”

            “That’s all Transfiguration is too!” Padma protested. “Except you actually have to remember the nonsense, and occasionally the nonsense comes back into play when you have to turn a porcupine into a pincushion.”

            “Well that’s – “ You were about to launch into your defense of Transfiguration when a deep voice interrupted you.

            “È una bellissima giornata ora che sei qui, dolcezza.” Theo Nott stepped into your field of vision, a textbook in hand, grinning down at you. Once again, you had no idea what he was saying, but you were prepared this time. Well, here goes nothing.

            “Puoi semplicemente flirtare con me in inglese, lo sai.” You smirked back at him, trying to give off an air of confidence even though you weren’t entirely sure that the words coming out of your mouth were correct. (You can flirt with me in English, you know)

            The book in his hands hit the floor with a resounding smack.

            He stared at you for what felt like an eternity. A wave of nerves began to overtake you – what if your translation was wrong? Had you accidentally said something embarrassing? Was Pansy completely wrong about the way that he felt about you? As you looked back at him, you saw that his cheeks were completely flushed. He swallowed hard, then hurried away to the back of the classroom.

            “Well, that could’ve gone better,” you whispered indirectly at Padma. You turned in hopes of having an emergency conference with Pansy and Daphne, but Professor Flitwick quickly interrupted you as he cleared his throat, signaling the start of class.

            “Good afternoon, everyone, today we’ll be continuing on with nonverbal spells theory, then spending the end of class on review.” He stepped forward and the stray book at the front of the room caught his eye. With a frown, he waved his wand and sent it flying toward its owner. You turned around reflexively and saw Theo staring in your direction as he placed his book back on his desk, still looking shaken. Hastily, you whipped back around. “Do try to keep your textbook at your own seat, Mr. Nott.” You heard a few students laugh as you withdrew your parchment and your quill from your bag.

            That day might’ve been the only day you’d ever been eager for a Charms class to end. With your thoughts an endless swirl in your mind and your stomach turning with anxiety, you could hardly concentrate on the lesson. You felt guilty, as though you were betraying your favorite professor, when you realized that you’d been utterly distracted for nearly fifteen minutes and completely lost track of the lecture. Resolving to take detailed notes to keep yourself attentive, you began to write determinedly. But even the words written by your own hand began to make little sense to you as worry consumed your focus.

            “Miss Y/L/N, can you remind us of the effect produced by the Reductor Curse?”

            You snapped back to reality at the sound of Professor Flitwick calling on you. “Um, pardon?” He frowned.

            “The Reductor Curse, Miss Y/L/N.”

            “Oh, Reducto.”

            “Right,” Professor Flitwick said slowly. “That is the incantation, but what is the effect?”

            “Oh, um, destroys solid objects.”

            “That’s correct.” He gave you one last troubled look before turning to the other side of the classroom. “And who can tell me, what is the color of the spell?” You raised your hand, hoping to assure him of your attentiveness, but he didn’t even look in your direction as he called on Lorenzo Berkshire instead.

            Finally, class concluded. You were ready to hurry out the door with the hopes of catching Theo – you needed to apologize for whatever you’d done. However, as you packed your things, you lifted your head to see Professor Flitwick standing before you.

            “Miss Y/L/N, could I speak to you for a moment?” Your stomach dropped.

            “Of course, Professor,” you replied quickly, following him to a quiet corner of the classroom as your friends left.

            “I couldn’t help but notice that you were a bit distracted in class today.” His voice was gentle and respectful, but that made you feel even guiltier to have let him down.

            “Yes, Professor. I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again.”

            “I know that it won’t, Miss Y/L/N, I know you.” He nodded solemnly. “I did not ask you to stay after class so that I could scold you. As your Head of House, I simply want to make sure that you are alright. I know that you faced some challenges in your earlier days at Hogwarts.”

            “I’m okay.” You let out a heavy breath.

            “Are you sure, Miss Y/L/N? No one trying to make your life difficult?” You shook your head.

            “No, nothing like that. Just…something didn’t go the way I planned, that’s all.”

            “Ah.” His eyes grew distant. “Yes, the best-laid plans of mice and men do often go awry, as the Muggles say. Oddly, I've found that some of my most errant plans have had the best outcomes." The warm smile on his face brought you a slight reassurance. "Do let me know if you need someone to speak with.”

            “Of course,” you affirmed with a polite smile. “Thank you, Professor.”

            “You’re very welcome. Now, best get going. I do believe that you have a friend waiting for you.” He gestured toward the back of the classroom and you turned to see Theo standing in the doorway. You froze, your heart dropping in your chest.

            “Um, right.” Smoothing your uniform skirt, you quickly attempted to regain your composure. “Great talking to you.”

            “And you as well. Have a lovely evening.”

            “You too!”

            Your heart thundered as you scooped up your school bag and walked towards the door – and Theo.

            “Um, hi.” You bit your lip worriedly as you looked up at him. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

            “Of course, bella.” He froze, seeming to catch himself in the habit. “I…did not realize that you were familiar with the Italian language.”

            You shook your head hesitantly. “Actually, that one sentence is really all I’ve got.” You saw him relax slightly. He stepped away from the doorway and you followed him out of the classroom.

            “Where’d you learn that?” His grey eyes flashed with intrigue as he looked down at you.

            “Oh, that? That was the power of Pansy Parkinson and an English-to-Italian dictionary.”

            Theo grimaced. “Parkinson! I’m going to…” He trailed off, letting out a sigh. “Meddler.”

            “I meant what I said earlier,” you began softly. “Or at least what I thought I said, anyway. You can flirt with me in English.” You glanced up at him hesitantly. “I don’t mind.”

            “English is not a very romantic language.” You blushed as he gave you a playful grin. “I apologize if I frightened you, bella.” His voice grew sincere. “It was not my best moment.”

            “I was going to say the same thing,” you admitted. “I’m sorry if I scared you, or if it was all too sudden, or – “ He interrupted you, shaking his head adamantly.

            “No, dolcezza.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “It was time. I should have…I should have told you long ago.”

            “Told me what?” Your eyes connected with his, stopping him in his tracks.

            “Well, if you know now, what I’ve been saying – surely you must have figured, the way I feel about you.” You froze, surprised at his candid admission.

“Well, to be honest, I still don’t understand most of it.” Theo let out a little laugh. “But the parts I figured out…Theo, that’s some of the sweetest stuff anyone has ever said to me.” You gave him a little smile and your stomach fluttered when you realized that his cheeks were turning pink. It was adorable. “Why wouldn’t you want me to know?”

“It’s so embarrassing.” He chuckled bashfully, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the ground.

            “Hey, my attempts at mastering the Italian language were pretty embarrassing.”

            “You did well, bella.” His voice was so strained that you nearly laughed out loud. You raised your eyebrows skeptically. “Okay, so that is not how you say the words. At all.” You burst into laughter and he did the same, in spite of himself. He had a beautiful laugh, deep and clear and joyful, and when it was gone you longed for more.

            “It’s okay,” you said with a giggle. “You can tell me it was bad.”

            “It was…well, it was very cute.” He looked down at you with hesitant eyes and you blushed, grinning softly. “Even though you are not so good yet.”

            “Well, maybe I’ll learn better if you tell me more about what you’ve been saying all this time.” You smiled back, nervousness fluttering in your chest.

            He let out a sigh, leaning his head back in resignation before looking back at you. “I suppose so.” He ran a hand through his hair again and you observed with amusement how his curls immediately flopped back in his face. “Well…you see, Mattheo and Blaise, they have a very unfortunate sense of humor. Last year, they decided it would be really funny to…to dare me to ask you out.”

            You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. “So – this was a dare?”

            Theo’s eyes widened. “No! I mean, yes,” he corrected, “But they dared me because…well, they could see how I felt about you. That you made me nervous. They thought it was really funny.” Your stomach flipped as your eyes met his. “I thought for a few days that I would just do it, but then I saw you, and – “ He shook his head. “So I asked you out in Italian.”

            “So that’s what you said the first time?” He nodded sheepishly. “Theo, that’s really sweet.” His eyes brightened and you realized just how close he was to you as your words got caught in your throat. “Theo?”

            “Hmm?”

            “You could always…ask me again.” You looked at him hopefully and his face split into an adorable grin as he took your hands in his. “I’m sure it would help with the language acquisition skills, after all,” you teased. He chuckled.

            “Merlin knows you need it.” Your mouth fell open in mock surprise and you shook your head playfully.

            “So rude.”

            His eyes softened as he watched you, and your heart thundered inside your chest as he ran his thumb over your knuckles, making your skin tingle as his grey gaze held you captive.

            “Vorresti venire a cena con me?” The smooth sound of his voice washed over you as you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. (Will you go out to dinner with me?)

            “Si.”

[aligned-starz]

😓

[aligned-starz]

so many people write mattheo to be a cold-hearted, womanizing bastard and while i absolutely love reading that mattheo (🙈), i am a firm believer that he’d be the biggest sweetheart when you’re dating him.

don’t get me wrong, he would absolutely be a cold hearted womanizing bastard… at first. after meeting you, he’d still be reserved, arrogant, rude. but somehow, you manage to sneak past the steel barriers he has surrounding his heart.

and when he realizes this, he’d push you away in every way possible. you offer him your notes when he misses class? “fuck off, i don’t need them. trust me, i’ve got a hundred other lap dogs doing that shit for me.”

and his heart would break a little when he’d see your confused frown, but he’d push the guilt down. love is vulnerability. vulnerability is weakness. that’s what he was taught and that’s what he lived by.

but oh, you’re just too perfect. your pretty little face, your sweet voice, the way your eyes light up when you’re talking about muggle studies or baby rabbits, the way you refuse to leave your dorm without your lucky jewlery. it melted the ice around his heart. he never stood a chance.

so he’d give into your affections at some point. and yes, he’d be the scary, possessive boyfriend everyone expects. he’d throw a punch at anyone who dared to touch you wrong or even look at you wrong. but that’s just the mattheo everyone knows. the mattheo you know is a sweetheart. never allowing you to open your own door or pull out your own chair, braiding your hair for you or helping you put it up at night, spoiling you with every candy, piece of clothing, and stuffed animal you want, tying your shoelaces for you, calling you princess.

and let me tell you, this man is the biggest whore for cuddles. he tells you that sleeping in your presence keeps the nightmares at bay and while that’s true, the real reason why he won’t sleep without cuddles is because he simply needs to feel you as close as possible. he needs your hands playing with his hair or your nails scratching his back. and you can’t even try stopping the movements of your hands because trust me, he is an incredibly annoying whiner. “babyyyy keep going.”

skin-to-skin cuddling is even better. he’ll take his shirt off and force you to do the same, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back into his chest. it’s not sexual; he just needs to feel you as close to him as possible, and your bare skin against his just happens to be the closest thing he has to crawling inside your skin and living there.

my point here is basically that mattheo riddle is a soft boy when he’s in love and i will die on this hill!

masterlist

[aligned-starz]

love notes in music

pairing: drummer!theodore nott x rich girl!reader

genre: fluff, modern au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: you always got what you wanted and the extremely hot drummer was no exception.

warnings: none

a/n: i am here to push forward the drummer theo agenda because yes yes and yes

Trouble was coming. You could feel it in your bones. Maybe it was the extra shot of espresso you had today or the wild predictions in your horoscope, but you definitely sensed something brewing. It didn’t help that Enzo had interrupted your lunch and dragged you back to campus for god knows what reason.

"Enzo if this is another one of your tricks to get me to dance with you it's not going to work. Remember what happened last time?" 

You dug your heels into the grass as your best friend continued to drag you across the field. The campus auditorium came into view and you frowned. There was no reason for you to even be there today so why was Enzo tugging you along like bait?

“Yes Y/n I remember what happened last time.”

"I fractured my ankle and I do not want to wear a cast ever again. I couldn't match the darn thing with any of my clothes." You huffed out a breath at the memory of the ugly accessory that the doctors had insisted on your wearing despite your protests. 

Admittedly you were a bit of a spoiled brat but at least you knew that you were. Going to a normal university was one of your father’s choices. You would have never gone somewhere so shabby on a daily basis. Truth be told on the first day, you were actually planning to ditch and go grab a chai latte. Then you bumped into Enzo accidentally and the two of you seemed to click. 

It was a good friendship. He’d always be able to tell you when you were being a tad bit annoying because of your rich girl behaviour and you’d be able to join him in his multiple activities. One which led to the infamous ankle incident. 

“Don’t worry Y/n, you’ll still be able to wear that Gucci jacket-”

“It was an Armani jacket.”

“Yeah yeah.” Enzo pushed open the door to the auditorium, and you were immediately greeted by the sound of drums pounding heavily. The amplified sound hurt your ears. “Welcome to the band.” 

“Um...Enzo, do I need to remind you of the time when I broke a guitar?” You nervously watched the live band on stage. Technically it wasn’t your fault that the guitar broke. Enzo never did tell you how to properly use it. “And when did you join a band?”

“Please don’t remind me Y/n also I didn’t actually join the band I’m more of a-”

“Hey Enzo!” 

The music stopped. Your head whipped around and your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the absolute hunk that had just shouted. His dark hair seemed to glow under the spotlight making him look like some sort of angel. Your mouth ran dry when he waved a drumstick at you. His fingers looked as if they’d been carved out of stone. And his biceps. God his biceps. The guy was ripped. He was a drummer as well. What was more sexy than a drummer?! 

“Hey Theo!” Enzo, your backstabbing friend who knew your weakness for hot boys with dark hair that played the drums, embraced him in a tight hug. “The practice is going well.”

“I know!” 

Good god, his eyes were like beautiful whirlpools of love. The two boys started talking animatedly about something to do with music. There were a few words thrown here and there that you recognised but other than that you stood watching wide-eyed at the conversation in front of you. 

“Who’s the pretty lady?”

Theo turned to face you and seeing his face up close only made you want to kiss him more. He really was gorgeous. You cleared your throat, straightening your skirt. “I’m Y/n, Enzo’s best friend, and you are?”

“Theo.” He offered you his hand, which you shook. Wow, his hands were soft. You were almost jealous. Time to buy new hand cream. “Hey, I’ve heard of you. You’re that girl who nearly broke her foot when dancing.”

Your cheeks flushed. Was this your legacy now? The girl that nearly broke her foot while dancing? How horrible. You would much rather be known for your stunning looks or incredible fashion sense. 

“Actually I twisted my ankle but who’s keeping track?” 

“Y/n isn’t the best dancer or guitarist.” Enzo chimed in. “She’s really good at maths though, she’s my second brain.” He said it as if you were simply another organ in his body, but you let it slide, trying to make a good impression on the drummer boy.

Theo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, it's good to know Enzo has a brain to rely on."

You giggled at his remark, feeling the tension ease a bit. "Yeah, he needs all the help he can get."

"Hey!" Enzo protested, a small pout forming. "I'll have you know I'm quite capable on my own."

"Sure you are." You teased, nudging him playfully. Then, turning back to Theo, you asked, "So, what kind of music do you guys play?"

Theo's face lit up with enthusiasm. "We're a rock band, mostly. Some original stuff, a few covers. We're actually looking for a new guitarist. Interested?" He winked, clearly joking.

You shook your head, laughing. "After what happened last time? I think I'll pass. I'm more of an appreciator of talent than a participant. But I might be persuaded to attend a private concert."

Theo laughed, a rich, warm sound that made your heart flutter. "A private concert, huh? I think we can arrange that."

Enzo rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, here we go."

Ignoring Enzo, you leaned a bit closer to Theo, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. "So, Theo, do you always look this good while playing the drums, or is today a special occasion?"

Theo raised an eyebrow, his smile turning into a smirk. "I guess you'll have to come to more practices to find out."

You gave him a once-over, pretending to think it over. "Maybe. I do have a very busy schedule, you know.”

“Sounds like a yes to me. We’ve got a gig this weekend, free up some space in that glamorous life of yours and come.

You tried your best to conceal your excitement at the fact you had just scored yourself a date with a very hot drummer. Forget about trouble today was definitely the best day of your life. 

"Alright, I'll be there." You agreed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "But only if you promise me a private drum lesson afterward."

"It's a deal. I'll make sure you get the VIP treatment." Theo’s grin only widened and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. He really was handsome and if you didn’t know how he was single but that was good news for you.

“I’ve got some studying to catch up on but I’ll hold you to that.” You offered him a wave goodbye as you made your way out of the auditorium with Enzo. Theo simply smiled, reciprocating your action. 

A giddy feeling overtook your body as the sun shone down on you. There were millions and millions of butterflies soaring in your stomach and you could only squeal at the idea of seeing Theo in the next few days. Before your best friend could say anything you spun on your heels, this time dragging him along with you.

“We need to go shopping right now, I need a new outfit for the weekend.” 

Enzo could only groan as his feet automatically moved. It was going to be a long day.

[aligned-starz]

we'll be alright

summary : in which they fight but there's no doubt that they'll end up alright.

pairing : sherlock holmes x reader

warnings : slight spoiler for enola holmes 2, ooc!sherlock, slight angst

author's note : so, hi!! i love you, thank you for sticking around, i love you!! <3

tagged : @0oolookitsme

masterlist

navigation

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“sherlock?” 

“enola. what are you doing here?” sherlock questioned, swaying as he tried to focus on his sister. “it’s not safe. there are scary people about”

“yes, let me know when you meet one,” enola sighed, walking towards him and standing close in case he fell over. “brother, are you quite yourself?”

“i’m fine, it was just a disagreement over a glass of wine and whose wine it was,” sherlock waved her off, looking around. “there was another disagreement that i had, not here, no. at home. it quite upset me. very much, in fact.”

“you fought with y/n?” enola asked, her eyebrows raising. she absolutely adored y/n and to hear that her brother and her sister-in-law were fighting was a shock considering they were totally smitten with each other.

“i find after wine, it’s very difficult to make your arms and legs move,” sherlock completely ignored her question, swaying dangerously. enola rushed to support, a wince escaping her as sherlock leaned on her for support. “i don’t usually imbibe but i’m not a case, you see. it’s proven rather tricky”

“cab,” enola called for a carriage, walking while supporting her brother’s weight, losing her footing every once in a while during their very short walk to the side of the road.

“hello,” both the holmes’ siblings greeted the driver, moving to sit inside.

“where are we going?” sherlock asked, looking at enola for answers.

“221 baker street,” enola replied, helping him get in the cab.

the ride to 221 baker street was filled with silence, with enola occasionally trying to ask about y/n and sherlock mindless chatter about his latest case.

the pair of siblings exited the cab, paying the driver and walked to the front door. after opening it, enola stood with sherlock in front of 221a and stopped, looking at her brother for any sort of indication that he was going to open it.

“that’s a and i’m b,” sherlock mumbled, his eyes unfocused as he first pointed at the door in front of them and then at the stairs going to the upper level.

enola sighed, rolling her eyes slightly as she moved over to the staircase. she looked at the number of stairs they’d have to climb before looking at her drunk brother.

“i didn’t know you had steps,” enola mentioned, wanting nothing more than to just sleep and wake up in a week or so.

“one should always have steps to avoid people stepping on you,” sherlock said, his words slurring together as he stood there. “that’s a tip, you should probably write that down.”

“alright,” enola started as she let go of him slightly and helped him lean against the wall, “how about i go upstairs and get y/n and she can help me get you upstairs?”

“y/n?” sherlock’s attention shifted to enola, his head leaning on the wall. “i don’t know if she’ll be here.”

“why not?” enola asked, worry growing in the pit of her stomach. had the fight really been that bad?

“she was quite upset with me,” sherlock spoke, his words stringing together to a somewhat coherent sentence. “i wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to go and stay with her sister for the time being.”

“we’re not at all done with this conversation as i’m very eager to know just how you’ve messed it up with the most loving and caring woman but we do need to get you upstairs,” enola said, her tone of voice sharp as she supported sherlock and guided him towards the first step. “all right, lift your left leg.”

“enola?” a voice questioned from the top of the stairs, making both the siblings look up. “and sherlock? what happened?”

“y/n!” enola exclaimed with relief in her voice, excited to see her sister-in-law and to get some help. “could you please help me in getting your drunk husband in the apartment?”

“y/n, love,” sherlock called out but his voice was ignored by both the ladies, leaving him with a frown on his face.

“oh my, i’m so sorry,” y/n rushed down the stairs, her dress flailing behind her as she went to sherlock’s other side and supported him. “did you get him here all by yourself?”

“had to,” enola informed, climbing up one step at a time. “he was drunk and got thrown out of an establishment.”

“god,” y/n mumbled, ignoring sherlock’s attempts to talk to her. it was obvious that she was angry with him. “i’m sorry you had to see him like this, enola.”

“it’s alright,” enola replied in her cheerful voice, the one that made y/n smile at the girl. the company of three finally reached the top of the stairs and y/n opened the door. “i can hold this incident over his head for years to come. at least, until he does something else.”

“i got him from here,” y/n assured the girl, her hands going over her husband’s shoulders as she supported him. “you go, get freshened up."

“alright,” with that enola went off in the direction of the bathroom, leaving sherlock and y/n alone.

“you should sit down, sherlock,” y/n said to her husband, leading him to the couch in the corner of the room. 

“you’re right,” sherlock mumbled, tripping as he moved across the carpet. “of course you are, darling.”

sherlock sat on the couch with a grunt falling from his lips, y/n’s hand automatically going to his shoulder while the other cupped his cheek, making him look at her. when she realised what she was doing, she quickly withdrew her hands and folded them in front of her, trying to ignore the confused look on her husband's face.

“are you okay?” she questioned, keeping in mind to keep her voice low.

“yes, i’ll be up and running in no time,” sherlock assured, reaching for her hands but stopped when she made no move to take his.

“i was worried when you stormed out and didn’t come back before nightfall,” y/n admitted, her fidgeting with the numerous rings she wore, a nervous habit she had; something sherlock always picked on.

“i apologise,” sherlock whispered, burying his head in his hands, the light from the lamps making his head hurt. “for worrying you. and for other things.”

“that’s alright,” y/n replied, chuckling lightly, though it was weak and she sounded tired. “i think i'll always be worrying when it comes to you. i’ve made my peace with it.”

"you're not mad?" sherlock asked, his voice muffled.

"we'll talk later, sherlock," y/n spoke, her voice sharp as she took a deep breath. "you make it hard to be mad at you, when you're in this stage."

“i suppose i don't make it any easier," sherlock asked, a small smile on his lips though y/n couldn't see it. "being me."

"you don't," y/n looked away, choosing to look at the portraits on the wall. "but that's okay."

sherlock was about to say something else when enola's voice sounded from their bathroom.

"i better go and see what she wants," y/n spoke though she made no move to leave. a moment passed between the couple before y/n moved towards him and pushed him to lay on the couch by his shoulders. "you, rest. please."

"if i must," sherlock said, leaning into her touch and craved it when it was gone. he settled and closed his eyes. "is she to stay the night?"

"yes," y/n spoke sternly, leaving no room for argument making sherlock grumble but he didn't object; knowing it would be fruitless.

y/n moved through the living room, making her way to the bathroom and knocked twice before waiting for enola to open the door.

"a moment," enola called from the inside and half a minute later, the door was thrown open and y/n was pulled inside.

"is everything alright?" y/n questioned, looking at the teenager whose hair were down, strands falling in her face.

"could you do my hair, please?" enola questioned, a pink tint on her face. "i usually just throw them in a bun and that does the trick but i love how you do your hair and since i'm here and you're here, maybe you could do my hair?"

"of course i will!" y/n exclaimed as she pushed enola's hair out of her face. "you shouldn't ask, enola. you're like my sister. i basically raised you."

"still, i felt the need to ask," enola shrugged, handing her the brush that was on the counter and turning around.

"you shouldn't," y/n reassured her, brushing her hair softly. "i'd never refuse."

"i'm glad to hear that," enola smiled at her, looking through the mirror in front of her. "is sherlock okay?"

"he's resting," y/n mentioned, starting to braid small braids. "at least, i hope so."

"did you two have a fight?" enola questioned, no longer being able to control her curiosity.

"he told you about it?" y/n asked, mild surprise on her face but still, she smiled at the girl.

"he wasn't sure if you'd be home when we reached here," enola spoke, wincing slightly as her hair got caught in one of the many rings y/n wore, the latter apologising profusely as she untangled them. "said you might've chosen to go to your sister's house. and he also mentioned something about a disagreement at home when i first saw him outside the bar."

"oh, um, we did have a fight," y/n admitted, a small frown on her face as she recalled the harsh words that were thrown around. "but i'd never just leave."

"did he apologise?" enola questioned, admiring the braid y/n had finished. "please tell me he did."

"he did," y/n assured the younger girl. "i wouldn't be here any longer if he didn't."

"that's good," enola smiled, her fingers twirling around the braid. "you're both good then?"

"i don't think it works like that, darling," y/n spoke slowly, her eyes trained on her hair, a sad smile on her face as she refused to look at her in the mirror. "it's not just a simple 'sorry' and then everything is fine."

enola stayed silent as she thought about what y/n and finally after a couple moments, spoke. "what do you mean?"

"i mean, you can't just hurt someone and then realise that what you did was wrong. you can't apologise and expect everything to be okay, that's not how it is," y/n spoke, her voice calm and controlled but her mind was filled with the words that sherlock and her had spoken—yelled at eachother. "the person you hurt, they're not just going to forget and forgive you."

"then, what are we supposed to do?" enola spoke, her voice a whisper as she watched y/n finish off the last braid and tuck it neatly with the others. "if we apologise but they don't accept it, then what? we're supposed to keep on telling them?"

"we need to show them," y/n corrected her, turning her around to she could pin up the strands that kept getting in her eyes. "with actions, not just words. with what we do, with gestures. they need to know that we cherish them, that we're thankful that they're here, with us, they need to know that we love them and that we're sorry."

"sherlock does that?" enola asked, her eyes on her sister in law.

"he does," y/n whispered, looking down as she felt the familiar burning in her eyes and the floor became a mosaic. "he really does."

"then why are you both not okay?" enola asked, comforting y/n as she rubbed her arms.

"because i'm so worried," y/n started, her breathing heavier and her voice choked up. "i'm so worried, enola. it's starting to affect me physically. he's taking on dangerous cases everyday, the next one more dangerous than the last and he goes out without any sort of protection and i'm so scared that he's not going to come back home to me."

"he's always going to come back to you," enola spoke, her hearting hurting when she heard y/n sniffle. "he's sherlock and you're y/n. you'll always find eachother."

"last night, he didn't come home until midnight and i had stay up waiting for him because i hate it when he comes back and there's no one greeting him and he had a cut on his upper arm and i freaked out," y/n rambled, her hands clutching enola's, the latter not letting go even for a second, "and we had a small argument about him coming this late and coming home hurt when i've told him many times to take someone from scotland yard with him but it ended in a big fight and we both went to bed angry, it was the worst. in the morning, i brought it up again and he just—yelled at me and i yelled at him and he just stormed out."

"i—i don't know what to say," enola breathed out, her hands still onto y/n's. "except, let me go out there and smack some sense into him."

y/n let out a shaky laugh, letting go of enola's hand to wipe her eyes.

"letting all of that out felt good," y/n admitted, sniffling slightly, twirling enola as she looked over her hair. "i needed this, thank you, enola."

"of course, y/n," enola smiled, her eyes sparkling under the lamp in the corner of the bathroom. "thank you, for doing my hair."

"don't mention it, love," y/n waved her off, her heart feeling lighter. "the guest room is neat and clean, you should get some sleep."

"ah, yes," enola spoke, looking at herself in the mirror before smiling at y/n. "i'll see you in the morning."

"of course," y/n smiled back tiredly, her head hurting.

"good night," enola called as she walked away from the bathroom and towards the guest room, her voice drifting as the door closed.

"good night," y/n whispered, knowing that there was no way she heard her. she looked at herself in the mirror, taking note of the year stained cheeks and how anyone could tell that she had been crying. her hair was a mess, flicks restricting her view.

she sighed, before opening the faucet and washing her face, cursing at herself for not doing it earlier as it already made her head feel less heavy.

after drying her face with a cloth, she made her way to the living and spotted sherlock in the same position in which she had left him. he seemed to have fallen asleep, with how even and deep his breathing was and how he was still and peaceful. there was no furrow of his eyebrows, y/n noted as she admired him.

"sherlock?" y/n called as he leaned over him, her voice barely audible as she didn't want to startle him. "we should head to bed."

sherlock groaned as his hands covered his face, moving slightly but he made no indication of sitting up.

"sherlock, please," y/n spoke, her hand on his shoulder. "let us go to bed."

"hm?" sherlock hummed, opening his eyes a fraction before closing them.

"sit up," y/n ordered, her voice still light. sherlock pushed himself up, looking up at her with tired eyes and y/n had to resist the urge to kiss his forehead.

“come on, let’s get you in bed,” y/n spoke softly, holding onto sherlock's shoulder as he stood up. she lead him to their bedroom, his body swaying slightly at the movement, making y/n grip onto him a bit tighter.

“that sounds nice,” sherlock mumbled, his hands holding her waist as he walked into their bedroom with her support.

“it does, doesn’t it?” y/n sat him on the bed, removing his coat, tie and vest. “have some water before you fall asleep. here.”

“i’m not going to fall asleep,” sherlock huffed before drinking the water y/n from the glass on the bedside table with a small ‘thank you’, “i’m not tired.”

“sure you aren’t, love,” y/n muttered, helping him get under the covers and adjusting the pillow under his head. “do you need anything else?"

"huh?" sherlock asked, his head falling against the pillow. "no, i suppose."

"alright," y/n moved towards the dressing room to change into her night gown. "i'll be back in a minute."

y/n only got a hum from him in reply as she made her way into the small attached dressing room and changing as fast as she could into her night gown. folding the dress as neatly as she could, she opened the door to find sherlock sitting up with his back to the headboard.

"sherlock?" y/n asked, confusing evident in her voice as she made way towards him. she sat on the edge of the bed, her worries increasing as sherlock stayed silent for the better part of a minute.

"i'm sorry," sherlock spoke, his voice small as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "for yelling, for storming out, for worrying you, everything. all of it."

"it's okay, love," y/n didn't even notice the term of endearment fall from her lips. "we can talk in the morning. you need to rest."

"no, it can't wait," sherlock argued, opening his eyes and looking at her with utmost seriousness. his hands clasped hers, holding them with a firm grip. "i have only just realised how much worry i cause you."

"sher—"

"if you were out there, i don't know what i would do," sherlock continued speaking, the words falling from his lips effortlessly. "and i realise that i have been selfish, worrying my wife about my well being, coming home late and sometimes even injured."

"darling—"

"i'll work on that," sherlock nodded, not noticing y/n trying and failing to speak. "i'll talk to lestrade about getting a constable with me on dangerous cases."

"love—"

"we already went to bed angry at eachother yesterday," sherlock spoke tiredly, his eyes dropping and his grip on her hands going lax. "i didn't want you to be mad at me tonight. i love you and i'm sorry, y/n."

"i love you and i'm not mad, not anymore," y/n shook her head, smiling as she leaned over and kissed his forehead, stroking his face with her thumb. "i just worry about you, a lot."

"and from now on, i won't give you a reason to," sherlock promised, leaning into her touch.

"good," y/n dropped another kiss to his forehead, smiling when he looked up at her and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. she smiled as she met him halfway.

the kiss was messy, with y/n leaning over him and sherlock's hand supporting her. y/n's hand found the front of his shirt, pulling him even more closer while sherlock's hand circled her waist, tracing small circles on her hips as he kissed her back with fervour.

they broke apart, their breathing heavy as they smiled at eachother, hearts beating fast.

"you need to sleep, mr. holmes," y/n reminded him, pulling away from him and moving towards her side of the bed. "you're tired."

"no," sherlock denied, watching her as she got in under the cover. "maybe, yes. god, am i tired."

"told you," y/n smiled at him with satisfaction. "sleep."

sherlock watched as she leaned over her bedside table and turned off the lamp settled comfortably, shifting slightly. he waited until she was fully settled in before moving close to her.

he laid his head in the crook of her neck, his nose touching her collarbone as his breath hit the exposed part of her neck, making her shiver. her hands automatically went to his hair, running her fingers through it.

minutes passed as y/n laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and running her fingers through her husband's hair.

"sherlock?" y/n asked, her voice barely a whisper.

after hearing no answers from him, she shifted lightly to get a good look on his face and smiled as she noticed that he was fast asleep. his mouth was parted slightly and each exhale of breath made y/n shiver and get goosebumps. his grip on her was relaxed and the look on his face was so peaceful that it made y/n feel at peace.

kissing the top of head, y/n inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and sending a prayer to whatever force that made him hers.

sure, they had their disagreements, both big and small. their difference of opinion cause a rift every now and then but still, there was no doubt.

we'll be alright, she thought before falling asleep with the love of her life.

----------

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[aligned-starz]

# SWEET LITTLE LIES

❛ tell me sweet little lies ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! mattheo riddle expects to be met with familiar scents of parchment and rain. instead, he's stunned to recognize the fragrance of (name)

WORD COUNT! 2.2k

WARNINGS! none, maybe ooc mattheo since it’s my first time writing for him

NOTES! best read in the true blue mode

H.P. MASTERLIST!

THE DIMLY LIT CLASSROOM OF POTIONS BUZZED WITH THE SUBDUED MURMURS OF STUDENTS AS THEY TOOK THEIR SEATS, THE SOUND ECHOING OFF THE COLD, STONE WALLS. The weather outside stormed wildly, the winter snow freezing the windows of the castle and covering the land with a white blanket. It was a clear sign that Christmas was coming soon. Maybe even sooner than expected. Flickering torches cast dancing shadows, adding to the room's eerie ambiance. The long, wooden tables were neatly arranged in rows, each one equipped with cauldrons and an assortment of ingredients that glistened in the low light.

The scent of musty parchment and various potions' ingredients lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of damp stone. Professor Slughorn, with his rotund figure and genial demeanor, bustled about the room, his jovial laughter cutting through the tension as he waited for the students to take their seats. His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles as he greeted each student personally with a huge amount of enthusiasm.

As you settled into your seat, you could feel the cool air from the dungeon's depths and outside's snow, a stark contrast to the warm, humid air that rose from the simmering cauldrons. The anticipation was palpable, each student eager yet apprehensive about the complex potion they were about to brew. No potion was easy, after all, and the one before Christmas break was the actual opposite of easy.

Mattheo Riddle slipped into a seat near the back, his expression as inscrutable as ever. You caught his eye for a fleeting moment before looking away, a shiver running down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. The atmosphere was thick with concentration and a hint of tension, as everyone prepared to prove their skills in the demanding environment of the Potions dungeon.

Professor Slughorn clasped his hands together, a gleam of excitement in his eyes, as he addressed the class once everyone was ready to begin with the lesson. "Good afternoon, my dear students! Today, we have a particularly enchanting potion in our hands. We'll be brewing Amortentia! Anybody knows what Amortentia is?"

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room as students exchanged curious glances. Hermione Granger's hand shot up eagerly, and Professor Slughorn nodded in her direction. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

The girl straightened in her seat, her voice confident as she replied, "Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence, sir. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession in the drinker. However, it's not truly love, but rather an intense and temporary obsession."

Professor Slughorn beamed at her response, pleased with her as always. "Excellent, Miss Granger! Five points to Gryffindor for your impeccable knowledge. Indeed, Amortentia is a potion that has been the subject of many cautionary tales throughout history. But fear not, today we shall handle it with the utmost care and respect for its potency."

As Professor Slughorn's cheerful voice echoed through the dungeon, assigning partners for the upcoming project, you listened with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Names were called, pairs formed, until finally, he reached the one that made your heart skip a beat.

"And for Miss [Last name]," Professor Slughorn announced, scanning the room with a thoughtful expression, "I think it's only fitting to pair you with Mr. Riddle."

A hush fell over the room as all eyes turned towards you and Mattheo. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. Of course they'd stare, he was the Dark Lord's son. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you exchanged a brief, uncertain glance with Mattheo, his expression unreadable as always.

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together, breaking the tension with his trademark joviality. "There we have it, ladies and gentlemen! Partners assigned, let the festivities begin!"

When the class dissolved into activity, you couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness that clouded your mind. Being partnered with Mattheo Riddle for a project meant spending more time in his presence, meaning being surrounded by the rumors that circled around him like bees circled flowers. Once people talked, no one could stop it.

And Mattheo Riddle had a reputation of his own to own.

Said Riddle approached your desk with a measured stride, his expression guarded yet polite, never actually showing what was on his mind. He took the seat beside you, and a light scent of cinnamon greeted your senses as you acknowledged each other with a nod.

Clearing his throat, the Slytherin turned towards you, his voice carefully neutral. "[Last name]," he began, his eyes never once breaking the eye contact he held from the start, "do you happen to know what ingredients we need for the Amortentia potion?"

You glanced up from the parchment which contained the names of the ingredients you'd need for the potion, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah," you replied softly, your tone gentle yet confident. "We'll need powdered moonstone, a sprig of peppermint, Ashwinder egg, rose thorns and petals, and some of the pearl dust."

Mattheo's eyebrows lifted, clearly being impressed when you named the ingredients without even having to look at the parchment. "Let's gather the ingredients and get started then, shall we?"

And with that, you began to brew the potion, your movements synchronized as you both worked side by side, each lost in your own thoughts yet connected by the shared task of the potion brewing before you two.

The ambient noise of the dungeon—a blend of bubbling cauldrons and hushed conversations—created a cocoon of privacy around your shared workspace.

You reached for the powdered moonstone, your fingers brushing Mattheo's briefly as he handed you the jar. A quick glance passed between you, and you'd been surprised at how this even happened. You know Mattheo is careful enough to not touch anyone, unless absolutely necessary (doesn't apply to his friends and people he's got a problem with). Carefully, you measured the moonstone and added it to the cauldron, watching as the shimmering powder dissolved into the bubbling liquid.

Next came the peppermint. Mattheo's hands were steady as he delicately placed the sprig into the cauldron, the potion emitting a soft, iridescent glow. His focus was intense, his usual guarded expression softened by the concentration and when his brows furrowed, creating frown lines between them, you couldn't help but admit to yourself he's rather breathtaking when he's not throwing daggers with his glare.

"Just a bit of rose petals left," you said in concentration, eyes following the Slytherin's movements. Mattheo nodded, holding the small vial with care. As he added the final ingredient, the potion swirled, releasing a heady aroma that made your heart race. You expected to smell the familiar scents of home - fresh pine, baked goods, and the flowery smell of fields. Yet, you inhaled a completely different mix of scents, confusing you to the roots. Cigarettes, jasmine, and the strong cologne Mattheo was wearing, along with cinnamon.

You turned to him with a frown etched on your face while your eyes searched his. "Did you try to drown yourself in your cologne today?"

The boy next to you blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the sudden accusation. "What? No," he replied while leaning closer to you. "I barely used any."

"They why do you reek of it?"

Mattheo's brown irises flickered to the potion, then back to you. "I could ask you the same thing. Your perfume can be smelled in the whole classroom."

The cogs in his head started to whirl as the thought about it and for better reassurance, Mattheo leaned above the bubbling cauldron and inhaled deeply, his eyes widening slightly as he recognized a scent that clearly resonated with what he just said. He glanced at you, a mixture of surprise and something deeper flickering in his eyes. For a brief moment, the walls he had carefully built around himself seemed to crumble, revealing a vulnerability that caught you off guard to see.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence he created without any intention. "Looks like we brewed it right," he exclaimed, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something unspoken. You nodded, feeling a similar mix of emotions as you looked into the softly glowing pink potion.

Professor Slughorn, who had been making his rounds through the classroom, examining potions and asking students to describe the scents they perceived, finally approached your table. His joyful demeanor brightened further as he peered into your cauldron, a look of pleased surprise spreading across his face as he clapped his hands at the sight.

"Ah, splendid work, you two! This is the best brew I've seen yet," he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with approval. "Such a perfect example of Amortentia! Now, tell me, Mr. Riddle, what scents do you detect?"

Mattheo hesitated, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he focused on the potion again. He took a deep breath, the familiar and intoxicating aroma washing over him. "I smell parchment," he began, his voice steady, "and fresh rain... and—" He paused, his gaze meeting yours, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. "And a hint of wildflowers, like the ones near the edge of the Forbidden Forest."

Slughorn's eyebrows lifted in delight. "Marvelous! Wildflowers, you say? Such an evocative scent, isn't it?" He turned his attention to you, clearly curious. "And you, my dear? What do you smell?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks under the intensity of both Slughorn's and Mattheo's gazes. "I... I smell the smoke of cigarettes," you said, concentrating on the whirl of scents, "and something soft, like... jasmine, and a hint of something spicy. Cinnamon, perhaps.”

Slughorn clapped his hands together, beaming. "Excellent, both of you! You've captured the essence of Amortentia beautifully. Your potion reflects a deep, personal connection to the scents you hold." He nodded approvingly and moved on to the next table, leaving you and Mattheo in a charged silence.

As the professor's attention shifted elsewhere, you found yourself staring into the cauldron, the shimmering potion a reminder of the truths it had revealed rather than a simple love potion. Mattheo's description lingered in your mind - wildflowers, fresh rain -scents unmistakably tied to you.

Mattheo cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, wildflowers, huh?" he said, attempting a half-smirk but unable to mask the underlying tension.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice barely a whisper. "Jasmine and spices... it's not exactly subtle, is it?"

He shook his head, the faint smirk fading as he looked at you, his expression earnest. "No, it's not."

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. The potion had done more than just showcase your brewing skills; it had unveiled the undeniable bond between you neither of you were aware of.

As the class drew to a close, the potion's shimmering surface still held your gaze. Professor Slughorn's praise echoed in your mind, but it was Mattheo's words that truly resonated. The students began to pack up their things, the room filled with the sounds of clattering glassware and murmured conversations.

Finally, as the last of the students filed out, leaving the dungeon quieter and more intimate, Mattheo turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "[Last name]," he began, a smirk playing on his lips, "It's all confusing to me but you can't deny it. The Amortentia—it's not just a potion, you know what it does and what it did."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the flutter of emotions with a playful smile. "Is that so, Riddle? Took a love potion for you to figure out what you feel for me? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one."

Mattheo chuckled, leaning in slightly. "Well, Granger can't be the only one showing off in class. Besides, it's hard to be clever when someone's making it difficult to think straight."

You rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. "So, what do we do now? Have a dramatic confession in front of everyone or keep exchanging sarcastic remarks and piss everyone off?"

"I vote for sarcastic remarks," Mattheo replied with a grin. "They're more fun. Plus, I wouldn't want you to think I'm going soft."

"Perish the thought," you said with a mock gasp. "Imagine the scandal."

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine for the first time you've heard him laugh. It was a new, yet heartwarming sound. "But seriously, [Last name], let's take it one step at a time. No need to rush."

You nodded, content with the idea. "Agreed. Just promise me one thing, Riddle."

"Anything," he said, his tone suddenly sincere.

"Don't drown yourself in cologne again. It's really distracting."

The smirk he spotted before returned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Only if you promise not to spend all your time in the Forbidden Forest looking for wildflowers. It'd be a shame if you got lost."

"Deal," you said, unable to suppress a laugh.

Together, you left the dungeon, the lingering scent of Amortentia left behind you. As you walked side by side, trading jabs and teasing comments, Mattheo's fingers brushed against yours in a silent invitation before he enveloped your palm with his.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[aligned-starz]

i love him so much i need to be shot in the head i need him so bad someone put me down please sam i would die for you please

[aligned-starz]

Lorenzo Zurzolo in EO, 2022

[aligned-starz]

moonstruck

— short oneshot/scenario

synopsis: late night talk with Luke Castellan

“You’re awake too, aren’t you?” He shifted in his bed to face you.

“Can’t hide anything from you, can i?” You did the same.

“How’d you know?” Despite the darkness, your eyes can still find his. Your cheeks burned as you gazed at his face. He looked drowsy—in a pretty way. Thank the Gods the darkness hid your stupid, uncontrollable grin

“I didn’t hear snoring.”

You scoffed. “I do not–!” You cover your mouth after realizing how loud your voice was, which caused the boy beside you to snicker. Your poor cabin mates.

“I do not snore.” You finished, this time as a whisper. You glared at him through furrowed brows and he copied the face you made; that was until you both burst out in giggles. Your pillow went over your head to avoid waking up others. You couldn’t stay mad at him, can you?

As your laughter died down and the only sound was the night birds waking, you both settled into a comfortable silence. Your eyes never left each other.

It's no secret you like Luke Castellan, at least to others. He hasn’t realized yet, you think. You met him at camp 2 years ago. You always kind of knew you were going to like him, ever since the day you met. Maybe it was the way he smiled at you, or how his curls sat atop his face. Maybe it was just him, in all his.. glory? Or maybe your deadbeat godly parent actually passed you the gift of prophecy.

“Percy and Annabeth sent me an iris message earlier.” His voice interrupted the comfortable silence you both soaked in. “Yeah? What’d they say?” Your interest piqued.

“They acted like an old married couple, I’m not kidding.” You couldn’t help but giggle at that, while Luke kept silent, simply staring at you as you did. With unblinking eyes, he watched as your eyes crinkle and how your lips extended into a smile. It looked good on you: pure, unadulterated joy.

“I told you something was going to happen. I felt it in my bones.” You clapped your hands in triumph, very softly as to not wake the others.

He raised an eyebrow. “You felt it in your bones?”

“Yeah!”

“Didn’t know you were an aphrodite kid.” He said while letting out a chaste laugh.

“Oh gods, I hope not.” In response, he hummed questionably. He slightly furrowed his brows as well.

“I’m not saying aphrodite kids are bad, okay!” You quietly told off. “It's just that…” You pursed you lips, trying to find the words. “That would mean she knew about me the whole time, she just chose not to claim me. I don't know, probably ‘cause I’m like, ugly or something..”

Luke hated it when you said things like that. How could you be so blind to your own beauty? He says your name softly, in a way that consoles you.

“No, I don’t think it's that.”

[aligned-starz]

test my luck ꢾ꣒ mattheo riddle. - UPDATED!

summary: enemy to lovers! Mattheo and y/n have been each other's biggest haters since year 1, they're in their final year at Hogwarts. Mattheo finally pushes y/n to the edge, with his venomous words and guilt tactics.

pairing: enemy! mattheo x fem ravenclaw! reader

warnings: not for the faint of heart! mature themes/language. mentions of abuse. slow burn? bullying angst!! oh my god angst, but ends with some bittersweet fluff I promise! attempted suicide sorry (after reading this back, i dont mean it to be manipulation or to glorify or romanticize but! shit!! for a plot?)

note: i haven't written anything in literal years, the pov is going to shift a lot so bear with me. i honestly just lost any sense of motivation. but something in me just bloomed. you wont see any hp things on this blog it is my journal and i feel like sharing! maybe a part 2 in the making. if this gets enough response.

word count: 6,828

(slightly not really proofread or fan fact checked? if that's a thing ha)

playlist: should i create..? you know damn well the smiths would be in it! like Bigmouth Strikes Again?? that is mattheo!

reblogs & comments are so appreciated! i hope you enjoy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was the start of your last year of Hogwarts, it was an okay time. You personally didn’t get into too much trouble, you liked to stick by yourself for the most part. You studied hard because your muggle parents were still confused about you being a witch, and what you would get out of it. It was hard to process that information, it was a thing of fairy tales. You had to prove yourself in this new world. That…that was hard when you were constantly looking over your shoulder for Mattheo Riddle.

“What’s a whore doing in my seat?” Speak of the damn devil. 

You turned to look at him with a sarcastic smile, “Well hello to you too Mattheo.” You nod at the three other boys that were with him, each of their arms crossed. “Draco. Blaise. Theodore.” You return to look at Mattheo, “you know last time I checked… there are no assigned seats in Potions.” You looked around and the class was still fairly empty.

“Think again and think hard.” Mattheo spoke to you in a cold shallow tone, he barely looked at you. He circled around the table you were at, your eyes following him. He suddenly stopped right behind your chair, yanking it back. There was a loud scrape, the few students that were in the room turned to look at the scene unfolding. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. Mattheo slammed his hand on the side of the table, making you flinch. You hated that you reacted that way. He grabbed the back of your ponytail, forcing your head forward where his hand was, “Look.” M. Riddle. D. Malfoy. B. Zabini. T. Nott. Their names were carved into the side. You grabbed Mattheo’s hand, the one that was still holding onto your ponytail, you tried to pry his icy cold fingers off. It only made him tighten his grip, he bent down to get close to your face, “I suggest you move unless you want me to carve my name onto your face as well.” he spat and finally let go. 

“Whatever,” you gathered your books, “this seat sucks anyways. I’ll go hang out with Professor Snape up front.” You rolled your eyes as Draco lit up a cigarette, handing the pack to the boys to share. If you’re going to try and get away with smoking, yeah do it in the back of the class I guess.

“You really like being a teacher’s pet don’t you? That’s why you’ve always got your nose up Snape’s ass.” 

“Seriously fuck off! Go continue to lose brain cells with your sorry excuse of friends.” You push the seat back and let it topple over. You mentally slapped yourself, you shouldn’t be feeding into his remarks.

“That’s cute sunshine, I’ll bet you have a hard time standing up for yourself in every aspect of your pathetic life. Do better.” Mattheo smugly said, smoking the cigarette that was in his hand.

You opened your mouth to speak but decided against it, you ended up just flipping him off. He did the same, giving you an annoyed look. You took the seat next to Hermione in the front of the class. Ugh! That Mattheo. “Are you okay?!” She asked, shooting daggers at the group, turning to you again “How can you put up with that? We have to tell someone..” you shook my head and whispered, “it’ll only make things worse. I don’t want to be a snitch. It’s already been six years anyways… how can one more year really change things.”

Blaise laughed, “you like that don’t you mattheo? Isn’t she so cute when she’s angry, you like feisty girls, yeah?”

Draco chuckles, “oh he definitely does, too bad she’s a stupid bitch.” The group laughs together.

You could hear them hollering from the back. You tried to calm yourself down and pay attention to the different measurements of the potions you were being taught. Maybe I could switch this class to a different time. You thought, focusing back to the lesson when Professor Snape mentioned something about needing to be in groups of three for an upcoming project.

Before Snape could assign anyone, Mattheo spoke up, “Sir I’d like to work with Theodore, if that’s permitted.” Snape looked annoyed by his interjection but answered, “No, Theodore will be with Y/N and Draco. Nothing will change. I already made the groups, they will be posted near the storeroom.” He gave Mattheo a dirty look.

You could hear Draco scoff but he didn't say anything. Yet. He kept to himself and his buddies while they continued to smoke and do other things to piss Professor Snape off before the class was finally dismissed. I guess I didn’t need to worry about being in a pair with Mattheo. You still wanted to protest against the group choice, but nothing would come of it. You knew better than to go against Snape’s final word. Theodore wasn’t such a horrible person, he actually can be pretty smart and helpful, if you got him alone. Otherwise when he was with even just one of his buddies, he was just like them - a jerk. It was Draco you won’t be able to stand.

“Don't do anything stupid, Y/L/N, and we might actually do okay in this project.” That was Draco himself, walking over with Theodore.

You ignored his comment, “where should we meet and when?”

“We can use one of the abandoned classrooms. Before the lunch break?” Theodore suggested, handing a note with directions.

“Okay. See you.” You said as bluntly as possible, gathering your book. You went to grab the ingredients your group might need. 

“Teachers pet!” Draco yelled after.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Of course you were the first to the abandoned classroom, you had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes before either of them showed. When they did, they didn’t bother to apologize, though you didn’t expect them to. Even with smart comments from both boys, you finished discussing the project and the presentation at a decent hour. It was quiet as you started to collect your things, Draco excused himself earlier to collect a package.

“Y/N, why is it that you hate Mattheo so much?” Theodore broke the silence, carefully watching you wrap the vials carefully. You paused, taken back. “He’s been trying to get a rise out of you since day 1, why?” He continued nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

You quickly grab them out of his hand and put it in your own breast pocket, “don’t smoke around me.” 

This made him annoyed, “Hey! I need those! They keep me calm!” 

“No you don't, you've been fine this entire time without them. I’m not trying to raise your blood pressure right now. You’re fine.” You give him a good look, maybe he was playing dumb. How could he not know? Theodore and Mattheo were best friends; they must have already talked about this, “I only hate Mattheo because he hates me. It’s all there's to it…” I think.

He lingers for a moment after you answered him, there is something else you haven’t said, “tell me what you think. There’s always some deeper reason for this sort of stuff” He rested his chin on his hand. See this is why I favored Theodore from the rest of his group, but should I still trust him? He could use this information against me. I took the chance.

“Over the years I suspected it was just plainly because I was a mudblood and not some perfect pure-bred like you folk.” You continued to wrap the vials carefully. 

Theodore rolled his eyes, “He does have a thing against people with different backgrounds than his own. He thinks everyone in this school should be from a wizarding family. But that’s not the case with you.” He grabbed a vial too, helping me wrap them, “He’s never said anything about your parents or how they’re muggles.” Mattheo would talk about me when I wasn’t around? Why would he do that? You looked into his eyes searching for some joke or underlying lie. There was none I could detect.

You recall the moment aloud when you first laid your eyes on Mattheo, “It was at the train station. Our first year. I remember hugging and kissing my parents goodbye, not wanting to let go of them. I turned around to go on the train and there was a much much smaller Mattheo staring at me with wide beady little eyes that were glossed over with tears. He was cute in that split second - ” You couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Theodore watched you carefully. You straightened your lips, continuing, “ - before he stuck a solid wad of gum in my hair.”

Theodore bellowed, nearly falling backwards in his chair, “Yeah that sounds like him, that’s a classic stunt he’d pull off. There was this one time in year 5 when he stuck gum on the chair of one of the professors before class…I never saw her so mad after she sat down and got up, her chair nearly followed her around!” He tried to settle himself down, “Mattheo always had a thing for doing stuff to people and acting as if it’s all a joke.”

“It’s not a joke when you have to cut your hair super short in order to remove the gum. I felt so naked without my long hair, it was so beautiful! And he made it worse when he made a point to show how ugly I was to everyone in the Great Hall. I even remember you laughing just like you are now.” You pushed his shoulder.

Theodore smirked, “yeah we all laughed, how couldn’t we?! You looked ridiculous before you grew it back out. We used to call you Baldy McEgg-head. You’d get so mad, only making us laugh harder.” At least someone cherished the memory. You rolled your eyes.

It grew quiet again, “have you ever met Mattheo’s parents? Has he ever talked to you about them?”

“No. I’ve never met them. He’s never really talked about his parents or his life outside Hogwarts. I don’t think he’s on great terms with his dad. He always stayed with them during the breaks, and wasn't ever allowed to spend it with us or here at hogwarts. He missed out on a lot of important hang outs. I wished he was there for them” Theodore explained, he sounded disappointed and angry.

“Do…do you think he’s jealous of my home life? The affection I was receiving in front of him at the train station…” 

He thinks for a moment, “I suppose it could be a possibility…hard to tell. He doesn’t allow himself to show too much emotion, again, probably has to do with the way he must have been raised.”

You wanted to do more research into Mattheo’s family…but how? “Thanks for this Teddy. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” You finished packing everything into your bag. Before you left you tossed him back his pack of cigarettes, “see you later.”

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You let out a sigh of relief, to be alone once again. Mettheo Riddle, what secrets do you hide? You made your way to the library instead of the Great Hall. After a few hours of searching around the library, you finally find a section of massive thick old leather bound books. You blew on the covers, these books contained a record of all the wizards and witches that had attended Hogwarts. Kind of like a yearbook, but it told you what came of them. Who married who, what did they end up doing after Hogwarts, etc. a rare but quite the gem of a find. “R… R.. R” you whispered, touching the book ends. You look at the bottom of the bookshelf finding the one that contained the last names that began with R. You found it, and you began to look through for the name “Riddle.”

Just as you got to the last name, you felt a wave of shame. You were snooping into somebody’s life. Their history. This is wrong. If Mattheo wanted to talk about his home life, surely he would have. He was hiding something. There were heavy slow footsteps coming around the corner of the aisle. You snapped the book shut holding it behind you and you looked at the section opposite of where you just were. Mattheo, they were his steps, you could tell. 

“Of course you’d be in the library doing nerd stuff.” He doesn’t sound happy, but also when is he truly ever?

You looked at him then around yourself, “who me? A nerd for being in the library?” I mean he wasn’t wrong but ..yeah. You still point at him, “Where are you then? Because it seems to be you’re also in the library with…” you fake gasp, “...Me! Making you a nerd too!” You hoped that confused him, you shifted the leather book behind your back. It was getting heavy by the second.

“I’m ditching classes to smoke,” He takes a rip of a cigarette that was nearly at its end, he blows the smoke in your face. “Nerd.”

“Whoop-dee-doo what a stellar insult Mettheo. I’m a ravenclaw. What did you expect? I’d rather be a nerd than a-” You took a step closer to him squinting then widening your eyes in horror, “oh my god Mattheo did you lose a tooth from all that smoking?” He quickly shoved his pinky into his mouth feeling his teeth in a panic. If there was one thing he cared more about than cigarettes it was keeping up with his good looks. Uh did I just describe him as good looking?

He actually laughed once he finished counting his teeth, “They’re perfectly fine. I care about taking care of myself, unlike you. How often do you wash yourself? I doubt you even brush your hair. I did you a favor when you had to cut it off. You have no sense of style, even with a selection of uniforms! Why do you dress like it’s winter all year? You dress like a peasant from the 1820’s”

Okay ouch, that kinda hurt. You’ve been insecure with your body, you always struggled with that. Dressing in sweaters helped hide it. You didn’t know how to respond, maybe he's right. You couldn’t stand up for yourself to save your life. You just shoved his shoulder with your own and walked past him. 

Matthew continues to follow you, “did you just shove me you twat?” He snatched the book out of my arms holding it a ways away from you, “If you’re going to do sneaky shit, don’t do it so obviously. Is this a diary or something?” Your eyes widened trying to take it back, but he held it up high above his head easily with one hand.

“Yes! It’s my diary, it’s where I gush about the god almighty perfect Mattheo!” I sarcastically said, still hoping he wouldn’t look at the title of the book. “No stupid! I dont have one, I just got done working on the potions project with your buddies. Hand me back the book.”

“Oh I bet you three had lots of fun. Did you talk about me while you were there? Did you talk about how you can’t take your eyes and mind off of me? You’re clearly obsessed, following me around like a love sick puppy. You pop up wherever I happen to be.” 

“Ew no never.” You fought your expression back, did Theodore tell him something? Fuck. “Draco left, it was just Teddy and I. we spent it kissing the whole time. Super carefree. His lips surprisingly didn't taste like cigarettes, they were pretty sweet.”

Mattheo’s smug smirk fades even before you finish your sentence. He hated how you used a nickname for his friend. He despised the thought of you kissing anyone, especially his mates, “fucking liar. THEODORE, not TEDDY, doesn’t like you. He just tolerates you because he has to. He wouldn’t be caught dead kissing you. You’re disgusting and I pity anyone who has the displeasure of touching you in any way other than to harm you. 

You hold your hands up, “woah woah woah, whatever makes you sleep peacefully at night. Why else did Teddy take me to an abandoned classroom, it was our chance to get away together especially after Draco conveniently left.” You couldn’t believe you were lying through your teeth, this would forsure come back and bite you in the ass even harder. You haven’t even had your first kiss yet. You haven't even been romantically linked with anyone before. 

“Stop fucking calling him Teddy, it’s Theodore!”

“Can you guys get a room or SHUT UP! For Merlin’s Sake” A random student yelled out at us. Slamming their hand on the table. You were embarrassed because you took pride in keeping the library a sacred place to study or relax.

“Piss off. Go find a room of your own instead of listening to us talking. You must be a first year, if you’re still so sensitive to other’s voices in the library.” He continued to raise his voice, “We’ve been like this for years! Blah blah blah!!”

“Stop it Mattheo.” You shove him again, mouthing to the student, I'm very sorry. With the distraction you go and grab the book in Mattheo’s hand but he quickly readjusts his grip.

“You don’t have to apologize for me, sunshine. You should apologize to him for your existence, do everyone a favor will you?” He finally looked down at the title of the book, Who Were They and Where They Now?: Hogwarts. He carefully used a single finger to pry it open to where the fabric bookmark was, immediately seeing his own surname. He gives a manic laugh looking up at your face and slamming the book down to the floor, “you stalker. You are obsessed with me.” 

He lunged at you. You took a step back, you hit the shelving. Your heart was beating so fast you thought you would pass out from the red handed guilt. 

“What kind of information were you looking to find huh?” He pointed a finger at me, his eyes ice cold. Looking to murder. Your head suddenly hurt, there was a high pitched ringing that wouldn't stop. You went to cover your ears to find some relief but Mattheo grabbed you and shook hard, “what the FUCK did you think you would find? Tell me. Tell me NOW!” You didn’t know what to say he just stared hard at you, his nails digging into your arms. You winced. He began to speak fast and harshly as if he knew, as if you had said something. 

“Did you really expect you would find out that I had a happy home? Do you think I’m happy being born in some dingy hovel? Do you think I'm overjoyed to be related to and be abused by my father? He beat me black and blue and hated my existence. My mother just sat there silently watching. She doesn’t care. Would YOU be thrilled knowing that you came from a long line of dark wizards who’ve caused pain and suffering to people for centuries.” 

You began to cry, “Mattheo..”

“You honestly think I would be so proud of that to tell everyone?” He scoffed.

“Mattheo you’re hurting me…”

“I. Don’t. Care.” His deep brown eyes didn’t leave yours, “you should have minded your own business. Stupid girl prying into my history. What do you care? Did you think I'd be less of a jerk to you if I had a perfect loving family like yours? ”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry! I .. I.”

“Shut up. You don't get to speak. I don't need you feeling sorry for me, I can handle myself. This is probably the worst you’ll ever experience.”

“Y-You’re right. I’m.. I’m grateful I never had to e-endure that” You were one stuttering mess. 

He moves one hand to cup your mouth to shut you up again, “what did i say. I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth.” He rose the other up threateningly. 

You closed your eyes. Do it Mattheo. Please. I deserve it. I’m sorry I tried to pry. Do it. He was surprised by your offer and looked at you in confusion, his expression didn’t change though. “What kind of sick request is that?” You open your eyes again to meet his. Both of you were in disbelief, did he just-? “Why would you want me to beat you? Because you feel bad for me? I don’t want nor need your sympathy. Trying to act like a saint that's willing to be my punching bag whenever I want.” he scoffed, letting your mouth free, taking a single step back away from you.

“Then why are you so mean to me? Tell me that. When I first laid eyes on you during our first year at the train platform, I thought we would be friends.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing where his fingers had dug into you.

“You’re a prissy annoying know-it-all goody two shoes that thinks she’s better than everyone. You can’t help but chime in whenever you have the chance and show off.”

“So it’s just my existence then huh, nothing else to it?” You felt your own anger finally rise, you wiped your tears off your cheek trying to regain composure.

“Pretty much. You’re unbearable. You are the most unexciting thing I’ve ever encountered.”

“Let me fix that for you.” Your eyes betrayed you and let the gates open, the flood starting to spill once more. Before Mattheo could get another hold of you you quickly shuffled off, dropping your things. Already feeling limp. Just hoping your legs would carry you a bit more.

Mattheo rolls his eyes, “tsk so stupid.” He stood there staring at the place you once were. Thinking about what occurred when he processed what you said, “Y/N! Hey I-..” He began to follow in the direction you went off to.

Your shuffle turned into a run, you just needed privacy. Anything. Your dorm was too far away, so you went into the nearest girls bathroom and into the furthest stall to sob.

Mattheo reaches the hallway, looking to his left and right. Fuck where did she go? He closes his eyes to listen closely. He heard something faint and went with his gut.

You sat down beside the toilet, hitting your head with your fist. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” You heard a familiar giggle, “go away Myrtle. Now’s especially not the time.” 

Bathroom, you had to be in the bathroom. He went inside not caring if another girl would see him, “Y/N? You’re in here, I know you are. Look, just come out will you?” Instead Moaning Myrtle came forth.

“Are you looking for me?” she bit her finger looking him up and down, “we don't get that many cute boys in here.” She sighed, still admiring him, “Nevertheless, shame on you. How could someone as delicious as you treat someone so horribly.” She laughed in his face.

“Shut up. I don't need to be lectured by some depressed ghost. Why are you even here. Go away.” He went further inside the bathroom pushing doors in, “actually have you seen a girl come in, Y/N?”

“Yes!” She said excitedly pointing to the last stall, “She’s coming with me and we’ll get to haunt together. It’ll be so fun to not be alone anymore” She broke into another high pitched laugh, clapping her hands with joy. 

“What the hell is she on about?” That’s when he noticed broken glass from a mirror. His heart drops, “you’ve got to be kidding me…” He rushed over pushing the final door in, but this one wouldn’t budge. “Y/N. It’s Mattheo..” his heart drops and he pales when he notices blood start to seep out from under the door, you’ve hurt yourself. “Y/N!” He says again louder, “open the door! Open it right fucking now! Y/N!!”

You didn’t want him to see you like this, no one should have to see this. You try to hold the door closed but you were losing your strength to do anything. The blood made it slippery so your hand slid down, “M-m-mattheo haven’t..you said enough?”

Myrtle pointed to the glass, “look how eager she was! Damaging school property to break free” She did a couple spins in the air, “any minute now!”

“That’s it. I’ve had enough.” Mattheo raised his wand and shot a blast at the lock, it broke open and he flung the door open to reveal you laying on the floor. His heart seemed to stop completely. “Shit! Dammit! Y/N!” 

The blast frightened you, “No. Mattheo. No.” You could only make out his dark curly haired head. You tried to swat him away before losing consciousness due to blood loss. 

Professor Snape rushed in after hearing a blast, “what the bloody hell is going on in here, Mr. Riddle.”

Mattheo looked at him with an angry and panicked expression, “I need her in the infirmary right now.” He said through gritted teeth. He leans over you, grabbing a large bunch of toilet paper and quickly kneels next to you. Applying pressure on your bleeding left wrist.

Snape understood immediately, “Keep the pressure on the wrist, Riddle.” He was able to pick you up easily, but he was not enthusiastic about having your blood staining his robes, “with HASTE Riddle! Follow me!” And off they went to the infirmary. Once there Snape quickly laid you on a bed gently before Madame Pomfrey took over. 

She was able to stop and clean the bleeding, while she examined the cut striation she asked both Snape and Mattheo what blood type they were, “The girls lost too much blood, she needs a transfusion.” She began to stitch the wrist, the cut was near vertical to the veins. 

Mattheo in a less than a split second looked at Pomfrey, “Am I able to donate for her.” He didn’t say it as a question, he wanted it to be a command. 

“As long as you share the same blood type then yes, sweetheart. Please, fresh blood is much better. We can’t wait more time, Ms. Y/L/N is so terribly pale. She can have a seizure any minute if we dont get more blood to her brain” still carefully pulling at threads. His hand was still holding yours. 

He nods impatiently, less talking, more action. “I’m AB-” he gulped. One of the rarest blood types in the world, “what type is she?” he began to roll up his sleeve even before Pomfrey was able to respond.

“Goodheavens! Thank Merlin. She’s AB- as well!” She sighs looking up at the ceiling for a split second, calling for a nurse to help set up the transfusion. He took a seat on your left, watching the nurse insert a needle into each of your arms. He didn’t flinch, but he gave her a threatening look when she inserted a needle into your arm, thinking she would bring more pain to you. 

Madame Pomfrey stood up, finished. “If it was with a straight razor and not a glass shard, I don’t think i would have been able to-” she let her voice die down after seeing how pale Mattheo began to look too, she shut her mouth as to not worry him more with what the other alternative was. He couldn’t hide his guilt. His eyes were alternating between your face and his blood that was slowly running into your body through a single tubing. He desperately needed it to go faster. 

“Is there a chance she would wake up with problems with her veins or her nerves?” He asked.

Pomfrey patted the boy's shoulders, “Let’s hope not, let’s hope they hold. With the basics in place, there’s nothing a little magic can’t help.” This eased him, “Ms. Y/L/N wont wake for a couple of hours. She needs to be watched to make sure she doesn’t rip my stitching job or we will go back to square one my boy. Can I trust you?”

“Is that really a necessary question?” He bit his tongue, “Sorry, yes I will watch over her. I need to be here when she wakes up.”

“Best she gets a psychiatrist too, but that's a later issue to address. We’ll focus on physical healing for now.” Pomfrey looked at Mattheo curiously, isn’t this one of the trouble-making slytherin boys? She shook her head and walked out to attend to another student.

“Y/N i’m here.” He studies your face, deep with regret and guilt. He holds your right hand tightly, he whispers softly, “it’s okay, you’re going to be alright..”

“Riddle.” Snape was still watching everything from the shadows of the room, “What happened to my best student, why is he in this condition?”

“It’s my fault, Professor…I was making a fool out of myself. I was treating her like hell… it went too far. She must have had a breakdown and she-” he couldn’t bear to describe your condition out loud.

Snape held a hand up to silence him from saying more, “rather than giving you detention for the rest of your time here at Hogwarts. I will need you to attend all the girl’s classes she will be missing in her recovery. She must not fall behind.”

“Yes sir, I understand. I’ll do it.” 

Snape turned to leave but came back toward the boy and yanked the cigarette box from his uniform pocket, “none of these for you either, especially as you are sharing blood with Y/N. She never liked you smoking.” and off he turned around to change his own robes from the blood.

“Anything for you.” he whispered towards you, “please wake up soon.”

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You began to stir, your eyes fluttering open. You looked around in a panic. You were incredibly sore, especially your left wrist. It stung badly. Mattheo had fallen asleep in the chair when he jolted awake to the sound of your movements, “Calm down, relax, you’re in the infirmary. You’re safe.” He couldn’t help but feel like he just lied about it being safe, if he was the cause of this.

“M…m..Mattheo” You began to cry again, “I’m so sorry.” You went to reach out and hug him but flinched. You followed the red transfusion line to him, “oh Mattheo.”

He sat up to lean towards you. He shushes you and wipes your tears with the back of his hand, ‘you need to calm down and take it easy, princess. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you're still weak. This is just to bring your levels up, you’ll start to feel better soon.”

You stared at his beautiful eyes, ones that had held so much hate but there seemed to be no trace of it now. You felt guilty, I acted like a coward. “Myrtle said it was going to be quick and painless. I’m so stupid I couldn’t even do it right.” You felt another wave of tears coming but  you tried to choke them down.

“No youre not, you’re not at fault.” He couldn’t help but chuckle cautiously as what he was about to say, “you might be a know-it-all but you just need to have more control with your thoughts. Don’t listen to Moaning Myrtle. Don’t be hard on yourself, you're not stupid. You did nothing wrong.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor.” you were so exhausted. But you needed to get this out before you lost consciousness again. With your good arm you help his hand tightly, looking him in the eyes again to emphasize the point you were going to make, “Mattheo, I really am idiotic. I Am. I did think you had a perfect life, it didn’t cross my mind that you had it any other way. You were always carefree and just let's be honest, acting like you're’ better than everyone else. It was wrong of me to have assumed that.”

He frowns. “Don’t apologize. There’s no way to tell what someone is going through ultimately. I..cope in my own way.” He softly strokes your cheek with this thumb.

If it wasn’t for the pain, you would have thought you were asleep. Dead. Or in purgatory. A realm between realms. No way the mattheo I’ve known my whole life is sitting beside me looking..lovingly at me? You felt horrible. Did I just manipulate him into caring about me? Just hours ago he was mocking and saying nasty things as usual. 

Mattheo could see the look of disbelief in your eyes from the way he was behaving, “Y/N. I’m caring for you. No you’re not dreaming or in some other realm. You’re here, with me, thank Merlin. You didn’t manipulate me, you woke me up.”

You sat up too quickly for your own good, your head feeling light “How are you doing that?” 

He shook his head, “Another time. I’m really sorry for how I treated you. You think I’m just some asshole, but I'm more than that really. I want to be more than that. No one else has gotten to see the real me.”

“Mattheo, I see you.” Despite your pain, you reach out to cup his face between your hands. For a second, you saw the boy you first laid your eyes on that first year at the train station. The same sad eyes, “I see you.”

He sighed into your touch, it was a soft and innocent gesture he was not used to. He chuckled softly, and gently placed his hands over yours, keeping them there. He didn’t want to lose the touch, “I know you do, and that’s exactly why I'm afraid.”

You couldn’t help but imagine - how different our lives could have been for the last 6 years, if he would have just introduced himself to me. Explained why he looked so pained when I was with my family. “My parents would have welcomed you as their own” you explained your thoughts to him. “I could have protected you. You could have visited me during the holiday breaks. I know saying it will not change the past and what has happened to you. But I see you Matty.”

“yeah..it’s too late to change the past, I should’ve but I didn’t think you’d understand. It doesn’t excuse the way I treated you all these years, Y/N.” His voice got shaky, his eyes starting to water. He was a mess.

“No, don't you start Mattheo please, baby.” You brought him into a hug, again ignoring your throbbing wrist. “Easy now.” you soothed the curls that were behind his neck. They felt so soft.

Mattheo rested his head on your shoulder and held you tightly, softly crying into you. He wrapped his arms around you and held onto your shirt like he was afraid to let go. He couldn’t remember the last time someone treated him like this, it felt so new and overwhelming.

You kissed the top of his head, inhaling - cigarettes. You hated that he smoked but at this moment the smalle was comforting. He let out a deep sigh. You broke the hug only because you scooted over on the bed, and tugged him to lay beside you. We watched you, he looked so tired. He nodded in agreement with a small smile, he carefully laid beside you, making sure to be careful of your condition.

You gave him a reassuring look that wasn’t hurting you. I’m okay. You looked at your arms touching side by side, still connected by the tubing. You couldn't help but laugh, “Matty isn’t it ironic? All this pure-blood and mudblood talk and look” you carefully lifted the tube, “we’re still one and the same foundation.” You smiled at him, helping wipe his tear stained cheeks now. “Thanks for your donation to me.”

He too couldn't help but grin back at you. He couldn’t believe you weren’t pushing him away for how he treated you, or for how vulnerable he was at the moment, “any time, but please actually don’t do that ever again. You made me worried to death..”

“No I won’t. Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky for him to take. 

He took it in his own nodding, “good, you’re stuck with me now.”

With our pinkies still woven, you  looked at the size difference. You turned toward his Bambi like eyes, “let's start this over on the right foot. Better late than never? Hi i’m Y/N, [insert some fun facts about yourself].”

Mattheo smiled more widely, blushing his pinky did make yours look kiddish. It was adorable. He gave you a playful look, smirking at you like he usually would, “Nice to meet you there, Y/N. I’m Mattheo, the sexiest guy you’ll meet in Hogwarts.”

There’s my Mattheo. “And you promise to…?” you coaxed him.

He gave your pinky another squeeze, “to try to be nice and kind to you, and avoid bullying you….as well as to not smoke in your presence…you happy?”

You kind of nodded, holding in your laugh, “aaaand…?”

He looked at you, trying to read what you wanted him to say. He gave your pinky another, slightly rougher, squeeze. “And I promise not to throw a wad of gum into your beautiful hair?”

“Bingo. Mr. Riddle, that’s what I was ultimately looking for.” You let go of his pinky, “but it is nice to know the other stuff too.” you waved your hand like it was nothing, but it was my everything. He gave you a sarcastic scoff, he liked that you were still acting like your old self too. 

You kissed his cheek and his face went redder than a cherry, you acted shocked “woah did I just make Mattheo, the sexiest guy in Hogwarts BLUSH?!” You slapped your hands against your cheeks in play disbelief, slightly regretting the pain it brought to your arms. He quickly shook his head and blushed even more than originally thought possible, he tried to hide his face away from you, “S-shut up! That’s a lie! I was not blushing, it’s just your imagination.”

You laughed at his reaction, taking his hand in mine once more comparing the hand sizes. You put my head against his shoulder, before dropping your jester attitude. Making him form another pinky promise with you. “Mattheo, I promise to be there for you. I want to protect you. You shouldn’t live in the shadow of your home life, especially not alone. Just as much as I’m stuck with you. You’re stuck with me. That’s my promise to you.”

His heart beat fast, it nearly melted his heart to hear your promise. He let out a deep, shaky breath. He couldn't stop the small tear that rolled down his cheek, he didn’t bother wiping it. He just leaned his head down to rest on your own, “deal…”

There was a pause, before you spoke up again.“I know we just started the year but please, come back home with me this Christmas holiday when it rolls around.” You blinked up at him. You started to feel really sleepy, that was to be your last request and plea for the moment, “I’ll show you how muggles get down to holiday business.”

Mattheo looked down at you and smiled softly, as your eyes were struggling to stay open, “yea sure, i’ll spend the holidays with you” he wasn’t sure how he would, but he would worry about that later.

Many promises were made this day, and you intended to keep each and every single one of them. In many ways, you knew this would still be the same Mattheo you had always known, but it would all be so different now. You managed to break through his extremely guarded shell, the hardest way possible. But it needed to desperately be broken.

You turned Mattheo’s head to look at you, he met your gaze. The corner of his lip curled up as he knew what you were about to do. He let you take the lead, closing his eyes. You kissed his lips slowly, cherishing how it felt. You wanted more of him, but your body was pleading for rest. You hugged his arm and surrendered.

He couldn’t help but touch his lips afterwards with his fingertips. He watched as you gave in to exhaustion, he followed your lead and let out a deep sigh before closing his eyes, “Goodnight princess.” Mattheo fell asleep to the sounds of you breathing and the sound of your heartbeat, they would surely become one of the most blissful lullabies to be heard by him. He intertwined his fingers with yours, he wouldn’t ever let go.

[aligned-starz]

♯ TOO SWEET ; mattheo riddle

❛ i take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at 3, you’re too sweet for me ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! in which mattheo recalled the two times you were too sweet for him (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! consummation of alcohol, lovesick mattheo, fluff, angst, a lot of my hcs for mattheo’s past (i wrote him the way i see him), lmk if i missed smth !!

NOTES! this is purely my view on mattheo’s character bc the hc i wrote suit him sm 😿😿 reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

ONCE A MAN FALLS IN LOVE, he finds himself drawn to not just the physical beauty of his muse, but for the essence of who the person truly is - their quirks, intelligence, kindness, and their unique way of seeing the world. Every interaction, every shared experience, every memory he brings, adds another layer to his adoration towards the love of his life.

His love for them is evident in the little things - the way he watches them when they aren't looking, the small gestures of thoughtfulness, the silent support during their dark moments of life. It's in the way he listens, truly listens, to the hopes and dreams, fears and frustrations, always eager to offer his thoughts and ideas. This love manifests in his desire to be their anchor in times of storm, their cheerleader in moments of triumph, and their person in all the in-betweens. It is a love that values their independence and individuality, recognizing that they are their own person with their own journey, and yet, he longs to be a part of that journey, to walk alongside them and share in their joys and sorrows of life.

Mattheo Riddle was no different.

He marvels at your kindness, your sweetness, and the light you bring into his life. You are his muse, his inspiration, a spark of the goodness that stands in stark contrast to his own perceived flaws and insecurities he feels deep inside himself. He sees you as an angel, a pure and radiant being who somehow chose to share your life with him, despite his own imperfections and inner demons.

He sees you as an angel in a human form, who chose to live among the devils, just so he could feel the heavenly touch for the first and last time in all eternity.

He often wonders how he, with all his rough edges, hidden scars, and a past life without a happy memory, could be worthy of your love. He feels like a monster, haunted by past mistakes and burdened by the weight of his own fears and failings. You, on the other hand, are everything he aspires to be - kind, compassionate, and endlessly forgiving. Your presence in his life is a constant reminder of the beauty and grace that he lacks, and yet, your love makes him strive to be better, to rise above his darkness and become someone worthy of your affection.

In his heart, he knows that your love is transforming him, helping him to heal and grow. Your existence is a light that dispels his inner darkness, a reminder for him to cherish that even monsters like him can be loved. He clings to this, that your love is making him a better man, one day at a time.

01. THE PARTY

The Slytherin common room was full of shadows and flickering lights, transformed into a wild moment of freedom for the night. The music, a thundering beat that echoed off the stone walls, could be heard from miles away, yet no professor or ghost visited the common room to cancel the party. It was as if the ancient castle itself had granted this one night of freedom to its most cunning and ambitious students. The rhythmic thrum of bass notes and the infectious melody of the latest wizarding hits filled the air, blending with the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses.

Bodies moved in a hypnotic dance, swaying in sync with the music. The students had discarded their usual aloof demeanors and uniforms, lost in the euphoria and joy of the moment. Green and silver decorations adorned every surface, shimmering under the enchanted lights that hung from the ceiling like glowing jewels. Laughter rang out, high and clear, mingling with the deep, resonant hum of conversation.

In one corner, a group of seventh years huddled together, their heads bent close in a whisper, before erupting into loud laughter. Nearby, a couple twirled around each other, their bodies intertwining like dark waves, eyes locked in their private world amidst the chaos around them. The fireplace, usually a place of quiet contemplation, was now surrounded by students perched on its stone ledge, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the night and alcohol.

Long tables filled with food and drink stretched along one wall, bearing the weight of a feast other students could be jealous of. Platters of magical meals, charmed to stay warm, smelled of aromas that mingled with the scent of butterbeer and stronger beverages. Bottles of firewhisky and elf-made wine were passed from hand to hand, each sip fueling the atmosphere more and more as drunken the students got. The alcohol flowed freely, loosening tongues, transforming even the shyest students into party animals of the night.

The Slytherin common room had never felt so alive. Tonight, they were not just the students of Hogwarts; they were a family, united by their house and their understanding of what it meant to be a Slytherin.

Mattheo Riddle was one of those students who were enjoying themselves tonight. His breathing features were illuminated by the green lights as he leaned casually against a stone wall, a cup of firewhisky filled to the brim in his hand. The amber liquid sloshed perilously close to the edge with each of his slowed gestures, but Mattheo seemed unconcerned, clearly lost in the haze of alcohol. His dark curls, usually styled in the way that made uncountable amount of girls fall on their knees, now fell loose around his face as you watched from a close distance.

He was engaged in a drunken conversation with Theodore Nott, whose tall, lanky frame was the opposite to Mattheo's more athletic build. Theo's typically serious demeanor had softened, his features relaxed into a rare, genuine smile as he listened to Mattheo's ramblings with a giggle threatening to spill out from his lips. The two of them, often seen together, now looked like true brothers. It was almost scary how much they resembled family when they were drunk.

Mattheo's voice, rich and slightly slurred, carried over the music as he recounted a particularly outrageous story from his recent fight. Theodore threw his head back and laughed. It was clear to anyone how close those two boys were, drunk or sober.

"Can you believe he actually thought I was serious?" Mattheo snickered with a big grin stretching across his face, taking a swig from his cup, the whiskey burning a warm path down his throat. "I mean, I barely managed to keep a straight face!"

Theodore laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're a menace, Riddle. One of these days, you're going to get expelled."

"Ah, but tonight isn't that night, mate," Mattheo replied with a slow wink, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To living dangerously and laughing in the face of consequences!"

They clinked their cups together, the sound barely audible over the throbbing beat of the music and you thought now was the best time to approach your boyfriend. 

Mattheo's brown irises scanned the crowd, catching a look of you as you pushed your way through the crowd of dancing bodies. The sight of you instantly brightened his expression and a genuine smile spread across his face. He felt a rush of emotions that the whiskey in his hand only intensified, each beat of his heart echoing with the certainty that what he held for you was pure love. The Slytherin straightened up, his posture shifting from the casual slouch of a carefree boy to the attentive stance of a man. Theodore noticed the change and a knowing smirk made its appearance on his lips as he stepped aside, giving the two of you a moment of privacy. 

"[Name]," your boyfriend called out, his voice full of warmth. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you came closer. "There you are, love."

You beamed up at him, your eyes reflecting the party's enchanted lights, making them look like twin stars. "Having fun, are we?" you teased and the tone of your voice carried a playful match that always managed to make his heart skip a beat. 

"Only now that you're here," he replied. The world around you seemed to blur as he gazed down at you, all the noise and chaos fading into the background. "You make everything better."

Drunk on both the whiskey and his overwhelming affection, the boy's usual reservations melted away. He held you close, his hands resting on your waist as if anchoring himself to your presence. When he was sober or feeling down at heart, his love for you was often hidden beneath layers of stoicism and insecurity, but now, in this moment of happy drunkenness, it shone through. 

He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips, enjoying the sweetness of the contact. "I'm so lucky to have you," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve you, but I'm going to spend every day trying to be worthy of your love."

 “You have no idea what you mean to me. I look at you and . . . it’s like you’re the sun and I’m just a planet orbiting around you, soaking up your light,” he continued without a break. The boy wanted to get every one of his words out as fast as humanly possible. To show you his hidden feelings he wasn't able to tell you before. “You’re my everything, [Name]. I don’t know how I got so lucky. You’re so kind, so . . . good. And me? I’m just . . . I’m a mess, you know? A monster sometimes.” 

You shook your head lightly and took his hands into your own, enveloping him with your warmth. He was starting to get emotional, and you didn't need to have your boyfriend drunkenly mopping around. His mood changed like weather when alcohol got involved. “You’re not a monster, Mattheo. You’re human. We all have our demons.”

“But you,” he didn't allow you to finish your sentence before he spoke up again, his voice raw with sincerity, “you make me want to be better. For you. I see you, and I just want to be the man you deserve. I’m not always good at it, but I try. I try because you’re worth it.” 

You could see the glazed look in his eyes as he swayed slightly on the spot. He was rough around the edges, you couldn't deny the truth, but he was the sweetest boy when he managed to fall in love. Which wasn't exactly difficult, Mattheo fell in love easily. But when he did, it was worth everything. Mattheo was your sweet boy. “Love,” you said softly to him, your voice filled with gentle concern to the brim, “you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Maybe it’s time to slow down a little, okay?”

Mattheo blinked, giving you a lopsided grin, his expression a mix of boyish charm and pure happiness. “But I’m fine, [nickname]. I feel great. Better than great, actually. With you here, everything’s perfect.”

“I know you’re having a good time, but I don’t want you to feel terrible tomorrow. Let’s take a break from the firewhisky for now, alright?”

He pouted slightly, his shoulders slumping as he realized you were actually serious. “You’re probably right,” he admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “But only because you’re asking me.” You chuckled softly at his behavior, threading your fingers through his and gently leading him away from the dancing crowd. You navigated through the common room, moving towards a quieter corner of the space where a plush couch sat, inviting you both in with open arms. The room’s enchantments cast soft shadows on the walls, the flickering lights creating a soothing atmosphere.

“Here, sit down,” you instructed as you guided him to sit on the couch. Mattheo obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a contented sigh. You sat beside him, your hand never leaving his. You took the half-empty cup of whiskey from his hold, reaching for a glass of water on the table nearby instead and handing it to him. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Mattheo took the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. He took a long sip, the cool water a welcome relief from the heat of the alcohol he consumed. “You really do take good care of me, don’t you?” he murmured, his head resting against the back of the couch as he looked at you with a mixture of admiration and exhaustion.

“Someone has to,” you replied playfully, brushing a stray curl of hair from his forehead. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the job.”

As the night wore on, Mattheo felt a warmth spreading through him that was only partly due to the whiskey. It was the warmth of belonging, of being surrounded by friends who understood and accepted him, flaws and all. Despite his often rough exterior, he was deeply grateful for these moments, these stolen hours of joy in the corners of the Slytherin common room.

02 - THE MARK

The past has a profound power to shape a man, especially when that past is influenced by suffering at the hands of a father. 

For Mattheo Riddle, his family history was the darkest shadow of all the shadows that clung to him, a reminder of the pain and fear that had molded his entire life. Raised in a home devoid of warmth, where love was a foreign concept and cruelty was a daily reality, Mattheo had learned to build tall and thick walls around his heart. A shield to protect him from more hurt that would come his way. 

The orphanage was a harsh place, stripped of the luxuries the boy had unknowingly been born into. It was a world of strict discipline and a poor form of affection. The caretakers, overwhelmed and underfunded, had little patience for a child with such a notorious legacy. Mattheo grew up under the weight of whispers and sideways glances, the infamous name "Riddle" ensuring he was never just another child. The women of the orphanage knew his father, having taken care of him when he was around the same age as his son. What a wicked child Tom was. Mattheo was different because of that, marked, and this awareness shaped his formative years in ways he could barely comprehend.

As he grew older, the whispers about his family name became more pronounced. The children at the orphanage were cruel. “Monster,” they called him, creating the very fears that nested within his own heart. He began to internalize these taunts, seeing himself through the lens of his father's sins. The idea that he could be worthy of love seemed more and more distant, more of a fantasy that had no place in his reality. But the same idea of letting someone see past his defenses, of allowing someone to love him despite his flaws, seemed not only impossible but dangerous. For how could anyone love a monster, especially one crafted by his own father?

Despite this, Mattheo yearned for something more. He longed for the kind of love he had never known, a love that was gentle and kind, that saw past his scars and accepted him for who he was. But every time he felt himself getting close to someone, the fear surged up, a wave of doubt and self-loathing washed over him and forced him to retreat behind his walls again. It was a never-ending cycle.

Hogwarts had saved him. 

Mattheo Riddle’s first steps into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were met with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and apprehension. For the other students, he was a figure of whispered rumors, his infamous last name carrying with it a weight of fear and fascination. They had heard the stories of his father’s dark acts, of the legacy that haunted the halls of the castle like a ghost. But for Mattheo himself, Hogwarts represented a new beginning, a chance to escape the personal hell he called the orphanage and create his own path. The boy was no longer just another orphan. Here, he could be anything he wanted to be.

He wasn't deaf. The young boy could feel the weight of his father’s name bearing down on him like an invisible burden. And he wasn't blind either. He saw the way the other students looked at him, their eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and suspicion. They didn’t openly taunt him as the children in the orphanage had done, but he could sense the whispers and the wary glances that followed him wherever he went. For Mattheo, however, their fear was a source of power. He reveled in the attention, in the way his presence commanded respect, even if it was tinged with fear. He was finally someone. 

He excelled in his classes, his natural talent and restless ambition setting him apart from his peers. But it was on the Quidditch pitch that Mattheo truly came into his own. Flying high above the castle grounds, he felt a sense of freedom unlike anything he had ever known. With every twist and turn of his broomstick, he left behind the weight of his past and embraced the thrill of the present, making him feel like a bird. 

Six years had passed since Mattheo Riddle first walked through the grand doors of Hogwarts, a hopeful and determined young wizard with dreams of greatness he was so sure he'd achieve. But now, as he entered his sixth year at the renowned school of magic, the world around him had shifted irrevocably. The return of Lord Voldemort two years prior had plunged the wizarding world into chaos, and with it, Mattheo’s life had been destroyed once again.

Even among his fellow Slytherins, Mattheo felt like an outsider, a traitor to his own house and everything it stood for. He had once prided himself on his ambition and cunning, on his unwavering determination to succeed at any cost. But it didn't matter anymore. 

Mattheo sat alone in the quiet atmosphere of the Astronomy Tower, his gaze fixed on the night sky that sparkled with millions of stars. Each twinkling light seemed to mock him, making fun of the darkness that now stained his soul even more than before. His fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket tightly, as if seeking some comfort in the fabric, but finding none.  

 On his left forearm, the Dark Mark burned like a brand upon his skin. It was a mark of shame, of betrayal, and every time he looked upon it, he felt a sickening sense of disgust and self-loathing. He had thought that by aligning himself with the Dark Lord, his father, he would finally be able to escape the shadows of his past, to prove himself worthy of the name Riddle and his father's presence. But now, he realized that he had only succeeded in plunging himself deeper into the deep hole. Even the orphanage was better than this. 

The footsteps behind him shattered the sweet silence, echoing off the stone walls of the tower. Mattheo tensed, his heart racing as he turned to face the intruder, steeling himself for whatever judgment or punishment awaited him. But as he turned, he was met not with the accusing glare of Filch or the triumphant sneer of a rival, but with the concerned gaze of a familiar face. It was you, with your eyes filled with worry as you approached him slowly, as if he'd disappear if you were a bit louder. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Are you alright?”

No, he wasn't alright. But he would be caught dead sooner than having you worry about him like that and more. 

He forced a tight-lipped smile, attempting to mask the emotions raging within him. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining the facade. “Just . . . thinking.”

You stepped closer, taking a seat on the ground beside him. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Mattheo. I know something’s been troubling you lately. You can talk to me.”

You were his angel, full of that purity and light he adored about you in a world darkened by his own sins. He longed to confide in you, to unburden himself of the guilt and shame that had consumed him since he had received the Dark Mark. But the fear of your rejection, of you seeing him for the monster he believed himself to be, held him back. It would shatter his heart, to see the pained expression on your face. 

“I . . .” he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the words, "there's something I need to show you." With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Mattheo finally mustered the courage to reveal the truth to you. For months, he had carried the burden of the dark secret alone, pushing you out and shutting you down in an attempt to shield and protect you from the darkness that was his father. But now, as he sat before you, his heart and his soul laid bare, he knew that he could no longer hide from the truth. The boy reached for the sleeve of his jacket, his fingers fumbling as he pushed the fabric up to reveal the twisted lines of the Dark Mark etched upon his skin. The sight of it made him recoil, a wave of shame washing over him as he exposed his deepest, darkest secret to the one person he had sworn to protect.

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in the mark, your palm flying to your mouth in disbelief. For a long moment, there was silence between the two of you, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing and the distant hum of the night owls. 

“I received this a few weeks ago," Mattheo confessed, his eyes avoiding yours. "When he decided I was good enough for him."

He felt your gaze on him, eyes searching his face for answers. He could see the confusion and concern written in your expression, but beneath it all, he saw something else - a flicker of understanding and acceptance that filled him with both hope and fear. How can someone be so good to someone like him? "I've been living with the Malfoys ever since," he continued, the words tumbling out in a rush as he struggled to explain himself. "But it's not what you think, [Name]. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a part of his plans, to be branded as one of his followers. But I had no choice. He made me do it."   

Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke, and he felt a desperate plea for forgiveness in his chest. He needed you to understand, to see past the mistakes that consumed him and into the depths of his soul where his love for you burned bright and true. The thought of losing you hurt him more than the Cruciatus curse ever could. 

“Forgive me. For shutting you out, for pushing you away. I was scared, I was ashamed . . . but I can't bear to keep this secret from you any longer. You deserve to know the truth, even if it means losing you forever." 

Your heart swelled with a bittersweet mixture of sorrow as you gazed upon Mattheo, your sweet boy, sitting there before you with tears in his eyes and the weight of the world upon his shoulders. In that moment, all you wanted was to wrap him in your arms and shield him from the pain and darkness that threatened to consume him. With shaky hands, you reached out to him, fingers brushing against the mark of his father's followers etched upon his skin. The sight of it filled you with a fit of fierce anger, but beneath it all, you saw the boy you so dearly loved - a boy who had been shaped by his past but who was so much more than the picture of his scars. 

"Love," you whispered into the dark, taking his face into your hands and wiping away those tears that managed to escape his control, "there's nothing to forgive. Nothing in this world could ever tear us apart, not even your father or that mark."

In that moment, Mattheo knew that he would do anything for you, that he would move heaven and earth to ensure your happiness and safety. You were his light in the darkness, his angel in a world filled with demons, and he would cherish that for the time being his heart swelled at the thought of you. You were simply too sweet for him and you knew that Mattheo’s struggles were far from over, but for tonight, that was enough.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

[aligned-starz]

BARK BARK BARK BARK

Shakespeare

[Mattheo riddle × reader]

Summary:Your obsession with Shakespeare is driving mattheo insane. And now he found himself jealous of fictional characters and a long-dead playwright.

Words:0.5k

Sitting in the Slytherin common room, the fire crackling in the hearth, I watched as a couple of students began to argue near the portrait of Salazar Slytherin. As their voices rose, I felt Mattheo's arm tighten around my shoulders. He always had a protective streak, especially when tensions flared.

Suddenly, I couldn't help myself. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," I quoted, my voice cutting through the noise. The room fell silent for a moment, and all eyes turned to me.

Mattheo chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Another Shakespeare quote, darling?"

I grinned up at him, unable to resist. "What can I say? He just knew how to capture the essence of human nature."

"Great, another Shakespearean monologue. Can't you save that for class?" Pansy said.

“I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes but there was a hint of amusement in them. "You know, sometimes I think you're more in love with Shakespeare than with me."

I leaned closer, my lips brushing his ear. "You jealous of a dead playwright, Mattheo?"

He smirked, his hand slipping down to my waist. "Only when you quote him more than you kiss me."

A few days later, we were in the library, studying for our Potions exam. As usual, the silence was only broken by the rustling of pages and the occasional whisper. I was immersed in "Hamlet" when a scuffle broke out between two Ravenclaws over a disputed study spot.

 “Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.” I couldn't resist quoting, earning a few chuckles from nearby students.

Mattheo groaned, pulling my book down. "Really? Again with the Shakespeare?"

I giggled. "What? It's fitting."

He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "You know what else is fitting? My cock inside you."

My cheeks flushed, looking around to make sure nobody heard. "Mattheo, we're in the library."

He grinned wickedly. "Doesn't mean I can't make you wet just by talking."

The rest of the day was a blur as we were now lying on the couch in the dark empty Slytherin common room, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin. I had "Romeo and Juliet" open on my lap, reading aloud one of my favorite passages.

"Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun."

Mattheo's eyes darkened with something primal. "You know, I don't like you quoting other men, even if they're fictional."

I laughed softly. "You're jealous of Romeo now?"

He kissed my neck, nipping lightly. "I don't want to share you with anyone, even if they're just words on a page."

I closed the book and turned to straddle him, feeling his growing hardness beneath me. "You have nothing to worry about, Mattheo. You're my Romeo."

His hands gripped my hips, pulling me down to grind against him. "Damn right I am. Now, why don't you show me how much you love me, Juliet?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆