Jenna

the ball was in full swing by the time you got there. grand chandeliers glittered above your head, the ceiling enchanted to look like the night sky. the room was packed with powerful, rich pureblood men and their wives, standing beside them, smiling politely, waiting to be spoken to.

this was what life was now, after the war. lord voldemort, mattheo's father, had ruthlessly crushed the wizarding world, moulding it into exactly what he had always dreamed of. society's elite stood in front of you, participating in their little events. balls, galas, charity events, dinners. all stuff you had never cared for.

"you say the word and we're leaving," mattheo murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as you stepped into the room beside him with a nod. his hand tightened on your waist as every eye turned to you two.

it was quite the spectacle: mattheo, the dark lord's heir, and his new, blushing, perfect pureblood wife. you had married a month and a week ago today, and mattheo had done everything in his power to keep you away from the spotlight. but there was only so much privacy you could have when you married the heir of the dark lord, really.

you remembered the newspapers erupting with the news that mattheo had finally taken his wife. he had been the last of his friends to take a wife, some believing he may never take one. after all, he was incredibly busy with all his ministry work.

he had done his best to hide you, especially given you had been together since before the war. that was six years ago.

"that's her, his wife-"

"-she's a pureblood, of course."

"-very pretty, lord riddle has always had good taste-"

mattheo moved you through the crowd, giving brief introductions and hellos, curt nods as he weaved you through, his hand never leaving your back. he hated these events with every ounce of his being, you knew that.

after all, he had done nothing but complain the last two days, face buried in the side of your neck, groaning about how boring they are, and how he hates everyone that goes. about how he wanted nothing more than to board up the manor with you and never leave.

"we haven't left in over a month, matt," you had said softly, laying down on the bed with him, brushing a curl away from his forehead as he pulled back to look at your face.

"not long enough."

but eventually, he did have to make his return to society. his job and responsibilities required it. he was now basically royalty in the wizarding world, for better or for worse, and the people wanted to see their new princess. you.

you knew he didn't like these galas, but as you looked at his face, he seemed unbothered, calm. you, on the other hand, were not. you could feel every stare, every whisper prickled against the hair on the nape of your neck.

their gazes traced every aspect of you, your hair, your face, your dress. your hands curled into his sleeve imperceptibly. you let out a shaky breath, doing the only thing that made sense for you. the one thing you knew this society desired: you bowed your head, eyes trailing to the ground as you stood by mattheo.

it was graceful, perfect. like a proper pureblood wife.

his eyes flickered to you immediately, noting your position. he hated it, you hated it, but it was the only thing that felt acceptable under the weight of their gazes. from your peripheral vision, you saw the way his jaw ticked, the way his mouth opened as he was about to tell you to stop.

but he didn't get the chance. it wasn't long before you were intercepted, as expected.

"lord riddle." mattheo's gaze snapped from you to the woman who stood in front of him now, giving a practiced curtsy only years of experience in this society could give, "what a pleasure. you've been sorely missed."

she stood from her curtsy, head still bowed slightly as she awaited mattheo's response. she held a sharp smile on her face, one that mattheo did not return, "have i?"

his tone was mild, in a way that made it clear he was completely uninterested and did not wish for an answer. the woman's eyes were quick to flicker to you, assessing, calculating. her gaze wasn't warm, but wasn't necessarily cold, either. just that signature detached look all powerful purebloods seemed to have.

"you must be the bride."

"a pleasure."

"yes," mattheo spoke, his hand that had lay gently on the small of your back tightening, "my wife."

he didn't introduce you the way he was supposed to: yes, this is my wife, or allow me to introduce-. just, my wife. final. he was lucky he could get away with that, his power allowing him to bypass some pleasantries he did not wish to give.

the woman noted it, immediately. her smile didn't falter, but something in her posture shifted, her gaze flickering back over to mattheo, "well, we were beginning to think you'd abandoned us, lord riddle. such a long...honeymoon."

this time, a smile broke out onto mattheo's face. a real flicker of amusement, something normally saved for your private moments, or with his friend. his gaze flickered down to you as he spoke, "some things are more important than balls."

your breath caught. a faint blush creeped up your neck as you bowed your head again, trying to hold the smile that begged to break out onto your lips at his words.

the woman excused herself not long after, but you weren't granted much respite. it turns out, that when someone as prominent a figure as mattheo drops off the face of the earth for a month, suddenly when he returns there is much to discuss.

lords, ladies, ministry officials. all smiles and pleasantries and carefully chosen words, assessing glances trying to figure out the union between him and his new bride, the power shift it represented. that it represented that he would eventually sire an heir and the riddle line would continue.

mattheo endured it. barely. his responses were clipped, efficient, clearly laced with a perfected mixture of disinterest and calculation that reminded everyone exactly who held power in that room, even when he had been gone.

every so often, his fingers would brush your arm, his hand would tighten at your waist, his gaze would soften when it landed on you on the few seconds you got between people who seemed to be lining up to be introduced to you.

the night passed somehow both agonisingly slow and incredibly fast, a weird warp of time, until music started to build for the final waltz. the last dance of the night.

his body went rigid beside you as he watched all couples begin to gravitate towards the dancefloor. his gaze flickered down to you, a small shake of his head, "we don't have to."

you gave him a soft smile back. because yes, technically you did not have to. but it was expected. you should do it. you knew that, he knew that. your voice was soft, "it's just a dance, matt."

his posture shifted just slightly, eyes warming once more as he took a small step forward, turning around. then, he offered his hand out to you, brown eyes catching yours as his lips quirked into a small, private smile.

you put your hand into his as he led you to the dance floor, letting out a soft breath as he turned around to face you, hand settling on your back, eyes focused on you.

the music began to play, and you moved in a practiced, flawless, fluid movement. the second the music started and you began moving, all the other noise faded, the feeling of their burning gazes, the whispers, all you could focus on was the way his eyes, your husband's eyes, warmed when he looked at you.

"stop looking at the floor," he said, and you knew he wasn't talking about now, not when you two had been staring at each other like the other had hung the moon. he meant before, when he was talking to those other lords and ladies.

"i thought that's what a good pureblood wife did," you responded softly, teasingly, as he spun you, before his hand settled back onto your back.

"i didn't marry a proper pureblood wife, i married you," he said, eyes never leaving yours as his hold on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, "and i want them all to see your face, see the beautiful face of my bride."

the music swelled and came to an end, murmurs filling the room as women curtsied to their partners. you held mattheo's gaze for a second more before a smile pulled onto your features, leading down to curtsy.

mattheo was quick to lead you off the dancefloor. the gazes and whispers returned, but this time, neither of you noticed. you were too busy focused on each other.

he leaned in, mouth brushing against your ear, voice low as his arm snaked around to the small of your back again, "come on, time to go."

the second the doors to his study shut behind you, the outside world ceased to exist once more. there were no whispers, no watching eyes, no expectations.

just him.

mattheo didn't even bother with decorum, he took his suit jacket off, throwing it on a heap on the floor and his hands were on you immediately, firm at your waist as he guided you backwards a step, then another until he found his desk chair, sitting down.

"merlin," he breathed, his eyes never leaving yours, "i thought that night would never end."

you barely had time to laugh before he pulled you onto him, your hands instinctively coming to his shoulders as you climbed onto his lap without a second thought, like it was second nature. because it was.

"well i think you handled yourself perfectly, lord riddle." the name was a tease, a joke, a breathless giggle escaping your lips.

he groaned at that, head tipping back dramatically against the chair.

"don't start," he muttered softly, though there was no heat to it, only exhaustion laced with relief. his hands slid down from your shoulders to your waist, to the small of your back, "i've heard enough of that title to last a lifetime."

"mm," you hummed with a smile, fingers brushing through the curls at the nape of his neck, "the ministry seem quite fond of it."

"the ministry," he started flatly, "can survive without me for the night."

your laughter bubbled out again, and this time he smiled, a real, proper smile, eyes softening as he looked up at you.

he looked so different like this. not the heir, the feared name whispered across the country. just your husband. your incredibly handsome husband.

his thumb traced absent circles against your side, gaze drifting over your face like he was memorising it all over again. his eyes were impossibly soft as he soaked in your every move, your small, even breaths, the way your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, "they wouldn't stop looking at you."

you tilted your head, "that's kind of the point, isn't it?"

his jaw ticked as he looked away for a fleeting second, before his gaze shot back to you, like he couldn't stand not having you in the centre of his sight, "i don't like it."

there was no teasing in his voice now. no edge, just something low and possessive; honest.

"jealous, are we?"

"violently."

that earned a giggle from you as he leaned down and captured your lips, kiss hungry as if the few hours he hadn't been able to had starved him. a rough hand came up to cradle the back of your head, not caring about messing up your flawlessly styled hair. his other hand stayed firm against your waist, your own hands coming up to trace the curve of his jaw.

"my beautiful wife," he murmured against your lips, saying his favourite words.

he captured your lips once more, this time softer, more gentle, like he was savouring the sensation. his hand moved to your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek gently as he pulled back, brown eyes serious as he looked at you.

"we aren't going to the next one."

"mattheo-"

"i mean it," he said against your lips again, stealing a kiss before he leaned his forehead on yours, "i didn't wait this long to have you just to have to share you with those people."

his lips met yours once more, his hands roaming, exploring your body. the kiss deepened, you leaning back, pulling his lips with you as your hands traced the way down to his trousers, lightly pulling at his belt.

mattheo pulled away, brown eyes flickering to yours as he spoke, "on your knees, baby."

you do as he commanded without a word, dropping to your knees softly, your dress' skirt pooling around you on the floor. with a soft clink, he opened his belt, unlooping it and unzipping his trousers, letting his cock spring free.

you took him in your hand, his hand reaching for your cheek, his head leaning back against his desk chair as he closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of your hands, warm, wrapped around him. he let out a breath, giving your head a gentle tug forward, letting you know what he wanted.

you didn't hesitate, your tongue poked from between your lips, licking a strip at his tip, the salty taste of his precum against your tongue. you pulled away, your breath fanning over him as you leaned down, your tongue licking from the base to his tip in an agonisingly slow movement.

his breath shuddered, his head moving back to heave a breath before looking back down at you, a breathless chuckle escaping him, "you drive me crazy, angel."

your tongue circled his head once more, taking your time, eyes focused on his face as you used one hand to pump his length and the other to steady yourself against his thigh. then, you took him in your mouth, sinking onto him as you curled your toes, taking him as deep as you could go.

"so good, so fucking good f'me, baby," he praised, hand in your hair as his thumb caressed your cheek.

you worked on him, sucking, swirling, your movements changing from fast to slow, lifting off him for air, circling his tip with your tongue before sinking back down, taking him all in your mouth. he praised you, words falling off his lips as he let out a light groan.

then, a sharp knock sounded against the door.

you halted your movements, looking up at mattheo. he looked down at you, then back at the door, before he shuffled the chair forward, forcing you into the space under his desk. you crouched your head down further, pulling your skirt to hide.

"come in," his voice morphed immediately, totally changed from how he'd spoken to you moments ago. colder, commanding, a voice that would send chills down anyone's spine, no doubt paired with that cold, dead stare that had people's knees shaking.

you couldn't see who it was, after all there was a wooden barrier hiding you from view, and you had your back to the door, mouth still wrapped around mattheo's cock.

"speak."

you tried to move back, to lift your mouth off mattheo's cock as the man who had entered, a worker of mattheo's no doubt, began to speak. mattheo did not say a word to you, did not look down, kerping his dead stare focused on the man in front of him.

but his hand, which had been in your hair, tensed as you pulled away, and it came down to immediately push you back on. you tried to swallow the gag that begged to echo through the room

"my lord, there's been some unrest in the wizengamot."

you stilled your mouth against mattheo, not moving. you couldn't, mattheo's hand was still at the back of your head, not moving either, not wanting to make any noise.

"the wizengamot?" mattheo repeated.

"yes, my lord. they're requesting authorisation to-"

mattheo's hand underneath the table pulled you further, your nose brushing against his pelvic bone as you tried not to gag around his entire length being pushed down your throat, taking him entirely. you heard the silent command: keep going.

mattheo did not let the man finish speaking, "handle it."

"han- handle it how, my lord?"

your tongue swirled around him as you sucked again, starting slower. at the sensation, mattheo's thumb stroked your cheek again, a silent praise of you continuing. your stomach clenched at the thought of your predicament: you hiding under the desk, secretly sucking your husband off as he handled business.

it was exhilarating.

"do you seriously need to ask me that?" mattheo asked from above the table, eyes narrowing. you quickened your movements, moving forwards and backwards again, tongue swirling, sucking. he didn't miss a beat, voice serious, void of the breathless it had held a mere minute ago, "make an example if you have to. what exactly is going on?"

"there is a few sympathisers-"

mattheo's thighs tensed around your shoulders, and you knew what that meant: he was close. you quickened your pace.

"there will be no sympathisers," mattheo cut him off again, "see to it."

"of course, my lord."

there was a brief silence between the two men, mattheo taking a short pause as he let out a breath. your mouth filled with his warmth, taking it all in your mouth as you swallowed, continuing to swirl your tongue up the underside of his dick.

"is that all?" mattheo asked.

"yes, my lord."

"go."

the man was quick to leave as he always was, shutting the door behind him. the second he was gone, mattheo pulled back, rolling his chair back and coming down to put large hands either side of your waist, pulling you up.

you stood in front of him, slightly out of breath as he leaned down, littering nipping kisses down the channel of your neck before turning you around.

"bend over," he commanded, and you were quick to listen to him. your cheek met the cold wood of his desk as you turned your head to the side. it was the perfect height for you to bend over, a design you were sure was not sheer luck.

his hands made quick work of trailing up your leg, bunching up the silk of your dress as his fingers pulled your panties off in a swift movement, fingers pressing against your folds.

"filthy girl all wet sucking me off secretely, hm?" mattheo spoke lowly, his fingers circling as you clenched in anticipation, thighs tensing as he moved his hand away.

you could hear him let out a breath, and then you felt his tip, hard again, ridiculously slow, pressing against your folds. he held it there, watching you bent over for him, the way you tried to back into him. a smirk rose to his face.

"matt, please-" you spoke breathlessly, hands curling against the wood.

he loved this, you knew he did. watching you writhe as he teased your entrance with his tip. the way your back arched subtly, the breathy sounds of your begs. it excited him, it thrilled him.

"only if you ask nicely, angel."

his voice held a tint of amusement, as it always did, as he pressed his tip in, then took it back out, going back to brushing it against your folds. your voice was shaky, breathless, "please, matt, i need you."

"mm," he hummed, watching you with a half-smirk, half-smile. he leaned down, pressing a kiss against your bare shoulder, voice low, "anything for my beautiful wife."

then, he thrusted in. he was not gentle, he didn't ease in by inch, no. he let you feel every bit of him, long, thick, stretching your walls. he didn't let you get used to his size either, no. he thrusted, setting a brutal pace, his hands on your hips as he drove into you.

your back arched against the desk, stomach still covered in the silk of your dress, pressing firmly into the wood. your nails scratched against the desk as you let out a moan. mattheo grunted from behind you, his fingers digging into your hips, making bruises you knew he'd kiss and caress tomorrow morning.

"my filthy girl," he groaned, hands moving to your stomach to pull you up slightly, pace still brutal, your back arching away from him. one hand stayed firm against your stomach, holding you in place, not giving you any escape from his brutal pace. the other made it's way up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and settled on your throat.

he squeezed it, peering around to look at the sight of his wedding ring, cool against the soft skin of your neck. it glinted faintly off the moonlight, the sight of the gold placed firmly around your neck riling him up more, his pace becoming more brutal.

because that ring, wrapped around your neck, was a sign of what you were. his wife. his.

"mine," he said, "all mine."

his pace faltered a little as your back arched more, both of you reaching your climaxes. he quickly pulled out, you whining at the removal, but he was swift in his movements, turning you around and driving back in.

he liked to look at your face when he made you cum.

and he did. even though his own climax, his eyes remained open, soaking in the sight of your face, lips slightly apart as you moaned, coming down from your high. pleasure he had gave you.

he slowed his movements to a halt after you both came, panting heavily. brown eyes followed your face, the way your chest heaved, and then to where he was still buried inside you, holding his cum inside of you.

with a swift movement, he lifted you up, keeping himself firmly buried inside and sat himself down on his desk chair, you on his lap.

your head came down to rest against his shoulder, eyes shut as you caught your breath. his touch was gentle as he pushed a piece of hair out your face, soaking in the sight of you like this.

Mattheo didn’t even glance up from his plate. “Didn’t ask for it, Hufflepuff.”

His voice was low, edged with that familiar bite. Sharp tongued as ever.

Around you, his friends, Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Pansy exchanged looks. Theo smirked into his pumpkin juice.

You shrugged, undeterred, and reached for some toast. “You didn’t have to. You skipped dinner yesterday. Figured you might be hungry.”

He finally looked at you then, dark eyes narrowing. “Stalking my eating habits now? Cute.” The sarcasm dripped like venom, but you just beamed at him, biting into your own toast.

Across the table, Pansy snorted. “Merlin, she’s at it again. Give it a rest, sweetheart. He’s not going to suddenly turn into Prince Charming because you bring him fruit.”

“I’m not expecting charming,” you replied lightly, defending yourself with a small laugh. “Just making sure he doesn’t starve while plotting world domination or whatever it is you lot do before Potions.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, amused despite himself. “Bold for a Puff. Most of your house would’ve run by now.”

You met his gaze steadily. “Most of my house doesn’t see the point in running from someone who hasn’t actually done anything to them.” Your eyes flicked back to Mattheo. “Besides, I like sitting here.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He took the apple though after a long pause and bit into it with more force than necessary.

You counted that as a win.

This had become routine. Weeks, maybe months now, of you orbiting him like a persistent moon.

Good mornings in the corridors, even when he responded with nothing but a grunt or a cutting remark about your “annoying cheerfulness.”

Little things: fixing the strap on his bag when it broke during Transfiguration, saving him a seat in the library (which he ignored and sat somewhere else, only for you to move anyway), defending him when some Gryffindor idiot muttered “Death Eater spawn” loud enough for the hall to hear.

His friends had started teasing you mercilessly at first.

“Another lap around the Riddle fan club?” Blaise had drawled one evening in the Slytherin common room after you’d somehow ended up there (Theo had dragged you along, claiming you were “funny” and “harmless”).

“Careful, love,” Pansy had added with a wicked grin. “He bites.”

You’d just shrugged and settled onto the couch like you belonged. “I’m not scared of teeth.”

Over time, the teasing softened. You laughed at their jokes, bantered back, helped Theo with Charms homework, and even managed to get Draco to admit your taste in Quidditch teams wasn’t completely abysmal.

You became part of the group, almost by accident. They got used to your presence. Mattheo… tolerated it.

Or at least, that’s what he showed.

Lunch was more of the same. You slipped into the seat beside him again, ignoring the way Lorenzo Berkshire raised his eyebrows across the table.

“Saved you the last treacle tart,” you whispered, sliding the plate over. “I know they’re your favorite.”

Mattheo exhaled sharply through his nose. “You keeping a bloody list or something?”

“Maybe.” You grinned, unbothered. “Someone has to notice these things.”

Theo kicked Mattheo under the table. “Mate, she’s literally handing you desserts on a silver platter and you’re acting like she hexed you.”

“Shut it, Nott.” Mattheo’s tone was flat, dangerous. But his hand closed around the fork anyway.

You chatted easily with the others, Pansy about the latest fashion disaster in the common room, Blaise about the upcoming match, Draco about some pureblood nonsense you mostly tuned out.

Every so often you’d glance at Mattheo, offering a comment or a small smile. He rarely responded with more than a grunt or a sarcastic jab.

He never spoke to you nicely. Not once.

Yet you kept showing up. After classes, in the corridors “How was Arithmancy?” even when he brushed past you with a muttered “Don’t you have badgers to hug?”

You sat with the Slytherins at dinner, laughing when they roasted each other, fitting in like a bright patch on dark fabric.

His friends noticed.

One evening in the Slytherin dungeons, after you’d left (having fixed a rip in Mattheo’s robes with a quick charm and a cheerful “See you tomorrow!”), Theo finally snapped.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Riddle.”

Mattheo leaned back in his chair by the fire, nursing a glass of firewhisky. “Problem?”

Blaise chuckled. “She does more for you in a day than half the girls throwing themselves at you ever have. Brings you food, defends your sorry arse, actually listens when you’re in one of your moods”

“I don’t have moods,” Mattheo cut in coldly.

Mattheo’s eyes darkened. “She’s just another girl hovering. They all do it eventually. Looking for the thrill of the ‘dark’ prince or whatever bollocks they tell themselves.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “She’s not looking for thrill, you dense git. She likes you. Properly. And she’s not scared off by your award winning personality.”

“She’s a Hufflepuff,” Mattheo said dismissively, though his grip on the glass tightened. “Too soft. Too… good. She’ll get tired of it.”

Theo laughed. “She’s been at it for months. Sat through your worst days. Defended you to McGonagall when you got detention for that stunt with the Gryffindors. And you still treat her like dirt.”

He was possessive by nature, territorial. But admitting she mattered? That was weakness. And Mattheo Riddle didn’t do weakness.

“She’s nothing,” he said finally, voice low and sharp. “Just background noise.”

His friends exchanged glances. They knew better. They saw the way his eyes followed her when she left the room, the subtle shift when she sat beside him. The hidden softness he buried under sarcasm and ice.

You, meanwhile, walked back toward the Hufflepuff basement with a small, satisfied smile. He’d eaten the tart. He’d let you sit there. Progress, in your book.

You weren’t naive. You knew he was cold, conflicted, carrying shadows most people couldn’t imagine. But you saw the good, buried, fighting to surface. You weren’t afraid. And you weren’t going anywhere.

Mattheo could pretend to tolerate you all he wanted.

You’d keep showing up until he couldn’t pretend anymore.

———

It was a rainy Thursday when things shifted, just a little.

You were waiting outside the Potions dungeon after class, two umbrellas tucked under your arm (one borrowed from the Hufflepuff common room because you knew he’d “forgotten” his again).

Students streamed past, giving you odd looks. A group of Ravenclaws whispered behind their hands.

Mattheo emerged last, collar up, expression stormy. His eyes landed on you and narrowed.

“Don’t,” he said before you could speak, brushing past.

You fell into step beside him anyway, unfurling one umbrella and holding it over both of you. “It’s pouring. You’ll catch a cold and then complain about it for a week.”

“I don’t complain.” His voice was clipped. “And I don’t need a bloody babysitter.”

“Too bad. I’m self appointed.” You smiled up at him, rain pattering loudly against the fabric. He didn’t take the umbrella from you, but he also didn’t speed up to leave you behind. Small victories.

Theo and Blaise caught up, grinning like idiots.

“Look at that,” Theo drawled. “Domestic already. Riddle, you gonna let her carry your books next?”

Mattheo shot him a withering glare. “Fuck off.”

You laughed softly. “I already did his Arithmancy notes last week when he was… occupied.” You didn’t mention the detention he’d earned for hexing a seventh year who’d called him a monster in the corridor. You’d simply copied the notes in your neatest handwriting and left them on his usual spot in the library.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “See? She’s useful. Unlike you when you’re brooding.”

Mattheo’s jaw flexed. He said nothing the rest of the walk.

Dinner that evening brought new company.

A tall Gryffindor boy, Cedric’s old friend, Marcus something, had wandered over to the Slytherin table, apparently on some inter house project nonsense. He stopped right beside you, flashing a bright, easy smile.

“Hey, I’ve seen you around. You’re the Hufflepuff who talks to this lot without running. Impressive.” His eyes lingered. “We’re having a study group in the library tomorrow. Potions theory. You seem like you know your stuff. Want to join?”

You felt Mattheo stiffen beside you before you even answered.

“That’s sweet,” you said politely, “but I usually study with these guys. Thanks though.”

Marcus didn’t take the hint immediately. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Less… intense.” He glanced at Mattheo meaningfully.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Mattheo beat you to it.

“She said no.” His voice was low, dangerous, laced with that dark charisma that made people listen. He didn’t even look up from his plate, but the temperature around the table seemed to drop. “Run along, Gryffindor.”

Marcus hesitated, then shrugged with a nervous laugh. “Alright, Riddle. Didn’t mean to step on toes.” He left.

Silence fell for half a second before Pansy cackled. “Territorial much?”

“I’m eating,” Mattheo muttered. “Don’t need distractions.”

You turned to him, heart doing a small flip at the possessiveness he’d just shown, even if it was wrapped in irritation. “You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve handled it.”

“Clearly.” His sarcasm was sharp. “You were about to agree.”

“I wasn’t.” You poked his arm lightly. He didn’t pull away. “I like sitting with you lot. Even when you’re grumpy.”

Draco snorted into his goblet. “Grumpy. That’s one word for it.”

The real crack appeared two days later.

It was late evening in the Slytherin common room. You’d been dragged there again, this time by Pansy, who wanted your opinion on a dress for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend.

You ended up staying, curled up on the couch with a book while the boys played a lazy game of Exploding Snap nearby.

Mattheo was in one of his moods. Silent, sharp edged, staring into the fire like it had personally offended him. You knew the signs by now something from his past, or a letter from home, or just the weight of his own name pressing down.

You stood up quietly and disappeared toward the dorms corridor (Pansy had shown you where the spare blankets were kept weeks ago). When you returned, you draped a slightly warmer one over his shoulders without a word.

He tensed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You looked cold.” You sat back down beside him, closer than usual. “And you always steal the good blanket when we’re down here.”

“I don’t steal…..” He stopped, exhaling through his nose. For once, he didn’t shrug the blanket off. His fingers curled into the fabric anyway.

Theo watched the exchange with open amusement. Later, when you stepped away to grab drinks for everyone, he leaned toward Mattheo.

“You know she’s in love with you, right? Properly. Not the silly crush shit.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked toward your retreating figure. “She’s delusional.”

“Or you’re blind,” Blaise added quietly. “She defends you to teachers, to randoms in the hall, even to her own housemates who think she’s lost her mind. Brings you food, fixes your shit, sits with you even when you’re a complete bastard to her. And you still act like she’s nothing.”

“Because she is nothing,” Mattheo snapped, voice low and venomous. But his eyes betrayed him,they followed you as you laughed at something Pansy said across the room.

“She’ll wise up eventually. Get tired of playing saint to the villain.”

Draco shook his head. “You keep telling yourself that, mate. But the way you nearly hexed that Gryffindor for just talking to her? That wasn’t nothing.”

Mattheo didn’t reply. Inside, the conflict raged. You made things easier, yes. Mornings were less bleak with your stupid cheerful “good morning” and perfectly ripe apples. His robes didn’t fall apart. He hadn’t missed meals. And the way you looked at him… like he was worth saving… it terrified him. Because if he let you in, if he admitted how much he’d come to expect your presence, then you became leverage.

A weakness.

And people like him didn’t get to keep soft, bright things without breaking them.

He was possessive. The thought of you smiling at someone else like you smiled at him made magic crackle at his fingertips. Territorial. He wanted you close but he refused to give you anything back. It wasn’t fair. He knew that. He just didn’t care.

Or so he told himself.

The next morning you were there again, sliding into your usual seat with a bright, “Good morning, Mattheo,” and placing a small vial beside his plate.

“Pepperup Potion,” you explained before he could sneer. “Just in case. You sounded a bit off last night.”

He stared at the vial, then at you. Something in his chest twisted uncomfortably, warm, annoying.

“You’re exhausting,” he said flatly. But he took the vial. Tucked it into his robe pocket like it was nothing.

You just grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Across the table, his friends shared knowing looks. They were done watching him self destruct in slow motion.

One of these days, Mattheo Riddle was going to have to face the fact that the persistent Hufflepuff had already wormed her way past every wall he’d built.

And when that happened… well. Even he wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore.

———

Slytherin party,

The common room pulsed with music and low green light, the party in full swing after Slytherin’s narrow win over Ravenclaw.

Music thrummed from enchanted speakers, firewhisky flowed freely, and clusters of students laughed too loudly, danced too close, and forgot for one night about OWLs, NEWTs, and the shadows hanging over the wizarding world.

You’d shown up with Pansy, who had insisted on you wearing a simple but flattering black dress she’d “borrowed” from somewhere.

“Blend in for once, Puff,” she’d teased. You’d laughed and gone along with it. By now, no one batted an eye when you appeared in Slytherin territory. You were one of them. Sort of.

Mattheo sat in his usual spot on the large leather couch near the fireplace, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest.

A glass of firewhisky dangled from his fingers. His expression was the same half bored, half dangerous mask he wore most days.

You had claimed the spot beside him earlier, but the crowd had shifted. Now a Slytherin girl, sixth year, long dark hair, sharp cheekbones and sharper ambition had taken your place.

Literally. She was practically in his lap, one hand trailing down his chest, laughing breathily at something he hadn’t even said.

“Mattheo,” she purred, loud enough for you to hear over the music, “you really are the most interesting one here. All that mystery… I bet I could make you smile if you let me try.”

She leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear.

Mattheo didn’t push her away. He also didn’t pull her closer. He simply took a slow sip of his drink, eyes distant, like she was background noise. No smirk, no flirtation, no interest. Just cold tolerance.

You stood a few feet away, watching for a moment. A small sigh escaped you, not dramatic, not heartbroken, just… tired.

You knew this game. Girls threw themselves at him constantly. The dark aura, the dangerous reputation, the undeniable charisma, he attracted them like moths to a cursed flame. And he usually let them hover until they got bored.

You turned away and spotted Theo leaning against a stone pillar, nursing his own drink and watching the scene with clear amusement.

“Hey, Theo,” you said brightly, walking over and bumping his shoulder. “Think we’ll see another Exploding Snap disaster tonight, or has Lorenzo learned his lesson?”

Theo grinned down at you, glad for the distraction. “Doubt it. He’s already three drinks in and eyeing that pack of cards like an idiot. You good?” His eyes flicked meaningfully toward the couch.

You shrugged, leaning beside him. “I’m fine. She’s bold, I’ll give her that. Think she’ll last longer than the last one who tried?”

Theo chuckled. “Nah. He’s not even pretending tonight. Look at his face, pure ice. Poor girl doesn’t realize she’s talking to a statue.”

You laughed softly, genuine and light. Talking with Theo was easy. He had become a real friend over the past weeks, someone who actually listened when you rambled about Herbology or the latest book you’d read.

“I was going to ask Mattheo if he wanted to dance later, but… maybe not. He looks like he’d rather hex the music.”

Theo raised an eyebrow, studying you. “You’re really not bothered by that?” He nodded toward the girl, who was now tracing patterns on Mattheo’s arm while he stared into the fire.

You took a sip of your butterbeer. “Bothered? A little. But I’m not going to compete by climbing all over him. That’s not me.” Your voice stayed calm, sweet but honest. “He knows I’m here. If he wants me to leave, he can say it. He never does.”

Theo shook his head, half laughing. “You’re something else, you know that? Most girls would be over there hexing her by now. Or crying in the corner.”

You smiled, eyes drifting back to Mattheo despite yourself. “I’m not scared of him, or of this.” You gestured vaguely at the party. “Besides, I like talking to you lot. Even when he’s being… himself.”

Mattheo’s gaze had found you.

Even from across the room, even while the dark-haired girl whispered something in his ear, his eyes locked onto you and Theo. His jaw tightened. The girl’s hand slid higher on his thigh and he shifted away just slightly but didn’t stop her. His fingers flexed around his glass until his knuckles paled.

He didn’t like it.

Not the girl. Her touch felt like nothing, irrelevant, annoying. But you standing there, laughing with Theo, looking perfectly at ease in his common room, in his world… that twisted something ugly and possessive in his chest.

You were supposed to be orbiting him. Not chatting and smiling at Nott like it was the most natural thing.

Yet he said nothing. Did nothing. Just watched, brooding.

Later, the girl finally gave up with a dramatic huff and stalked off to find easier prey. Mattheo didn’t even watch her leave.

You eventually wandered back, sliding onto the couch beside him now that the seat was free. Your shoulder brushed his.

“Enjoying the party?” you asked lightly, offering him a fresh drink you’d grabbed on the way.

Mattheo took it without thanks, setting his empty one aside. “It’s loud,” he said flatly. His eyes flicked to you, scanning your face like he was searching for cracks. “You and Nott seemed cozy.”

There it was the sharp edge. Not quite jealousy admitted, but close.

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Theo’s funny. We were just talking about how terrible Lorenzo is at cards.” You paused, then added, “You could’ve joined us. Or told that girl to give you space if she was bothering you.”

He scoffed, leaning back. “Didn’t need to. Not interested.” His voice dropped, sarcastic and low. “Unlike some people, I don’t need constant attention to feel important, Hufflepuff.”

You didn’t flinch. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on giving her any competition.” You reached over and straightened his already loose tie with gentle fingers, a small habitual gesture.

“You looked bored. Thought maybe you’d want actual company instead of… whatever that was.”

Mattheo stared at your hands on his tie, then at your face. The conflict raged behind his eyes, wanting to snap at you, push you away, and simultaneously wanting to pull you closer so no one else could even look at you the wrong way. He settled for his usual defense.

“You’re too much,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away from your touch.

———

Weekend ends, and the new week already started badly for Mattheo.

A letter from his father’s old circle had arrived that morning cryptic, demanding, laced with expectations he wanted nothing to do with but couldn’t fully escape. Combined with a brutal detention from Snape and losing a Quidditch strategy argument to Draco, his mood was blacker than the dungeons.

The kind of day where the shadows around him felt heavier, and everyone with sense stayed out of his way.

Everyone except you.

You had noticed immediately during breakfast. His shoulders were tense, jaw locked, eyes darker than usual.

Still, you slid into your usual seat beside him with a gentle smile, placing a steaming cup of his favorite black coffee (extra strong) in front of him.

“Morning, Mattheo,” you said softly. “Rough night? I brought you….”

“Enough.”

His voice cracked like a whip. Louder and sharper than he’d ever been with you. The entire Slytherin table went quiet.

You blinked, hand still hovering near the cup. “I just thought….”

Mattheo turned to you fully, eyes blazing with barely contained fury and exhaustion. “You thought what? That your pathetic little acts of kindness would fix anything? That I want you here every single fucking day breathing down my neck like some lovesick puppy?”

The words cut deep. His friends froze.

“Mattheo…” Theo started quietly.

“No.” Mattheo didn’t even look at him. His gaze stayed locked on you, cold and unrelenting.

“I’m done with this. Done with you hovering, done with the apples and the notes and the stupid blankets and the defending me like I’m some broken charity case. Leave me and my group alone. Go back to your Hufflepuff flowers and mind your own business for once.”

The silence was suffocating.

You stared at him for a long second, heart twisting painfully in your chest. Your eyes stung, but you refused to cry in front of them. Not here. Instead, you swallowed hard and stood up slowly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, voice small but steady. “I’ll leave.”

You turned and walked away without another word, head high even as your hands trembled at your sides. The Great Hall felt endless. A few people whispered, but you didn’t look back.

Mattheo didn’t watch you go. He gripped his fork until it bent, then shoved his plate away and stormed out. His friends exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing to him. Not yet.

Three days passed.

You kept your word. No more good mornings in the corridor. No more saving seats. No more sitting at the Slytherin table.

You ate with your housemates, smiled politely when people asked what happened, and threw yourself into Herbology and helping in the kitchens, anything to stay busy.

You missed them. You missed him. But you respected his wishes. If he wanted space, you’d give it to him, even if it hurt.

The Slytherin group felt the absence immediately.

Lunch on day one was too quiet. No one to laugh at Lorenzo’s terrible jokes or argue Quidditch with Draco. No soft voice reminding them about upcoming assignments.

By day two, Pansy was scowling at everything. “This is ridiculous. The table feels empty.”

Theo kept glancing toward the Hufflepuff table where you sat, surrounded by your housemates but somehow looking… dimmer. Less bright.

Day three, Blaise finally said it out loud in the common room: “She’s makes this lot tolerable. Can we bring her back”

Mattheo was there, slouched in his usual chair by the fire, pretending not to listen.

He hadn’t spoken much in three days. His mood hadn’t improved, in fact, it had soured further. The little things you used to handle were piling up. His bag strap had broken again. He’d missed dinner once because no one reminded him. The common room felt colder without your occasional presence.

He told himself it was better this way. Cleaner. No weaknesses.

His friends disagreed.

On the evening of the fourth day, the group made their move.

Pansy and Theo cornered you after Charms class, blocking your path to the Hufflepuff basement with determined expressions.

“You’re coming with us,” Pansy declared, linking her arm through yours.

You blinked in surprise. “Pansy, I can’t. He said…”

“He’s an idiot,” Theo cut in. “A miserable idiot. The common room has been dead without you. Draco’s even more unbearable. Lorenzo keeps losing at cards because no one’s betting against him properly. Come on. Just for a bit.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I don’t want to make things worse.”

Blaise appeared behind them, smirking. “Too late for that. Mattheo’s been brooding like the Dark Lord himself since you left. We miss you, love. Properly.”

After a few more minutes of gentle insistence (and Pansy threatening to drag you), you gave in. You let them lead you down to the Slytherin dungeons, heart hammering the entire way.

And there, in his usual spot by the fireplace, sat Mattheo.

He looked up when the portrait hole opened. His eyes landed on you immediately, widening for half a second before the guarded mask slammed back into place. He said nothing.

The others moved casually, like this was normal. Pansy pulled you toward the couch. Theo dropped into the seat across from Mattheo with a pointed look.

“Look who we found,” Theo announced lightly. “Our favorite Hufflepuff.”

You stood awkwardly for a moment, offering a small, uncertain smile to the group. “Hi.”

Draco nodded at you, almost relieved. “About time. The silence was getting pathetic.”

You sat down carefully, not beside Mattheo this time, but on the opposite end of the large couch, giving him the space he’d demanded. Your hands twisted in your lap. You didn’t look directly at him, but you could feel his stare burning into the side of your face.

The conversation started slowly, Pansy complaining about homework, Blaise teasing Lorenzo, but it gradually warmed up. You laughed softly at one of Theo’s jokes, the sound familiar and bright again. For the first time in days, the common room felt alive.

Mattheo remained silent, watching you from the shadows of his seat. His jaw was tight, fingers drumming restlessly on the armrest. The conflict was clear in his eyes, the same storm you’d always seen, only sharper now. He’d told you to leave. You had. And now that you were back (because of them), the relief mixing with his anger and possessiveness was making his chest feel too tight.

He still didn’t speak to you.

Laughter echoed off the stone walls as Lorenzo dramatically retold his latest failed attempt at asking out a Ravenclaw, complete with sound effects.

Pansy was curled up beside you on the couch, showing you fabric swatches for some upcoming event, while Theo kept sliding in clever quips that made everyone groan or laugh.

You smiled and participated. You really did. You complimented Pansy’s choices, teased Lorenzo right back, and even debated Quidditch tactics with Draco when he dragged you into it. It felt good to be back among them.

They had become real friends, and their obvious relief at having you there eased some of the ache in your chest.

But with Mattheo… it was different now.

You stayed on the far end of the couch. You didn’t slide closer like you used to. You didn’t offer him the fresh drink Blaise had passed around. You didn’t reach over to fix the cuff of his sleeve when it rode up.

Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you gave a small, polite nod and looked away again. Careful. Guarded. Not cold, you couldn’t quite manage that but no longer shining that bright, effortless warmth directly at him.

Mattheo noticed.

He sat in his usual chair, legs stretched out, nursing the same glass of firewhisky he’d barely touched. His dark eyes followed your every movement. The way you laughed freely with Theo. The way you leaned into Pansy’s side comfortably. The way you existed in his space without orbiting him like before.

It irritated him more than he wanted to admit.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Pansy murmured to you at one point, low enough that only you could hear. Her eyes flicked toward Mattheo. “Still sore about what the idiot said?”

You shrugged lightly, tracing a pattern on the couch leather with your finger. “I’m here for you guys. Not… not to push anything. He made it pretty clear he doesn’t want the extra stuff from me. I’m respecting that.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “He’s a dramatic prick. He didn’t mean half of it.”

“Maybe.” You offered her a small smile. “But I’m not risking it again. Not right now.”

Mattheo’s grip tightened on his glass. He’d heard enough.

When Theo stood up to grab more drinks and you naturally followed to help him carry them back, Mattheo’s voice cut through the air sharp, sarcastic, aimed straight at you.

“Careful, Hufflepuff. Wouldn’t want you overexerting yourself playing servant again.”

You paused, holding two glasses steadily. The group quieted a little. You met his gaze evenly this time, no flinch, but no smile either.

“I’m just helping a friend, Mattheo,” you said softly. Calm. Not defensive. “No big gestures. No hovering.”

You set the drinks down and returned to your spot without another word. No apple. No blanket. No gentle check in about his clearly still terrible mood.

The silence stretched for a beat too long.

Theo cleared his throat. “Smooth, mate. Really winning her back with that one.”

“Shut up, Nott.” Mattheo’s tone was flat, but his eyes stayed on you. That possessive streak was flaring hot under his skin. You were here, in his common room, surrounded by his friends, yet you were keeping him at arm’s length. It felt wrong.

The next few days followed the same careful pattern.

You sat with the group at meals again, but not directly beside Mattheo. You chose seats between Pansy and Blaise, or across from Theo.

You still defended the group when outsiders made snide comments, your Hufflepuff loyalty ran deep but you no longer singled Mattheo out.

No more personal good mornings whispered just to him. No more saving his favorite desserts. You were warm with everyone else, bright and kind like always.

With him, you were… polite.

“Pass the salt, please?” you’d asked at dinner the next evening, voice neutral when your eyes met his.

He’d slid it over without a word, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

Later in the common room, when you’d laughed at one of Draco’s rare jokes and bumped knees with Theo accidentally, Mattheo had snapped at Lorenzo over nothing, magic crackling faintly at his fingertips.

His friends saw it all.

“You’re an absolute bellend,” Blaise told him bluntly one night after you’d left for curfew (earlier than usual, another new habit). “She’s giving you exactly what you asked for and you look like you want to burn the castle down.”

Mattheo leaned back, staring at the dying fire. “She’s acting like I’m a stranger.”

Draco snorted. “You told her to leave you alone. Loudly. In front of the entire hall. What did you expect? Eternal devotion on command?”

“I expected….” Mattheo stopped himself, running a hand through his messy curls.

He didn’t know what he expected. He’d wanted space, wanted the annoying persistence gone. But now the absence of her specific light left everything feeling flat. The little comforts he’d pretended not to notice were glaringly missing. And worse, seeing her still smiling, still caring, but redirecting all of it away from him… it stirred something ugly and jealous and needy he refused to name.

He was emotionally conflicted on the best of days. This was torture.

A few nights later, the group was studying (or pretending to) in the common room. You were helping Pansy with her Transfiguration essay, heads bent together, your neat handwriting filling the page. Mattheo sat nearby, book open but unread.

You felt his stare again. Heavy. Burning.

When Pansy got up to fetch another book, leaving the two of you momentarily semi-alone, you glanced up. His eyes didn’t waver.

You offered a small, cautious smile. “Need help with anything? The essay’s brutal this week.”

Mattheo’s response was instinct sharp-tongued and defensive. “Don’t start that again.”

You closed your ink bottle slowly, expression softening but staying reserved. “I’m not starting anything. Just offering as a friend. Like I do for the others.”

The distinction stung more than he cared to admit.

He wanted to snap again. Push harder. But the words caught in his throat when he saw the careful walls behind your eyes the way you were protecting yourself now, even while sitting in his world.

You waited a beat longer, then turned back to your own work when he stayed silent.

Mattheo Riddle watched you, the same storm raging behind his guarded expression. He was possessive. Territorial. And right now, the girl who had always chosen him was choosing distance, even while staying close to everyone else.

It was driving him mad.

The common room was quieter tonight, the fire crackling softly as most students had retreated to dorms or the library for last minute revisions. Only the core group remained scattered across the couches and armchairs, Pansy flipping through a magazine, Theo and Blaise arguing over chess moves, Draco reading with a bored expression, and Lorenzo half asleep.

You had been sitting with Pansy again, but something had shifted in you. You’d watched Mattheo. Really watched him. The way his eyes tracked you when he thought no one noticed.

The tighter set of his jaw whenever you laughed with the others. The restless tapping of his fingers. He was regretting it. You could see it, the conflict, the stubborn pride warring with whatever softer thing lived under all that armor. He wanted you close again. He just didn’t know how to say it.

Time to test the theory.

You stood up casually, stretching, and moved across the room. Instead of your careful distance, you dropped down on the couch right beside Mattheo, close enough that your thigh pressed lightly against his. The same spot you used to claim every night before the blow up.

Mattheo tensed instantly, dark eyes snapping to you.

You didn’t look at him right away. You simply leaned forward, grabbing a spare quill from the low table and twirling it between your fingers like nothing had changed. “Theo, pass me that book on curses? I want to check something for Pansy’s essay.”

Theo raised an eyebrow but tossed it over with a knowing smirk.

As you settled back, your shoulder brushed Mattheo’s. You felt the sharp inhale he tried to hide.

He lasted maybe thirty seconds.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The words came out harsher than he probably intended, laced with that unwilling venom. “Decided to test how much shit I’ll take before I snap again, Hufflepuff?”

You turned your head slowly, meeting his gaze. There was no flinch in your eyes, only quiet understanding.

You saw it: the regret flickering behind the ice, the way his hand twitched like he wanted to reach out but refused to let himself.

“I’m just sitting here,” you said softly, voice even and sweet. “Like I used to. You haven’t told me to move.”

Mattheo’s jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle jump. He tried again, the meanness spilling out despite himself, like a defense mechanism he couldn’t turn off.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have to. Thought I made it clear you’re exhausting. Always there, always fixing things no one asked you to fix. Find someone else to play hero for.”

The words stung, but you saw straight through them. His eyes betrayed him, lingering on the way your hair fell over your shoulder, on your hand resting near his leg. He wasn’t pushing you away physically. He wasn’t standing up.

He was just… lashing out, the same way a wounded animal snaps at the hand trying to help.

You smiled. Small. Knowing. “You don’t mean that.”

He scoffed, looking away into the fire. “Don’t tell me what I mean.”

But he still didn’t move.

Emboldened, you shifted even closer, tucking your legs under you so your knee rested against his thigh. You reached over and gently tugged the loose thread on his sleeve that had been bothering you for days, something you would’ve fixed without thinking weeks ago. He froze under your touch but didn’t pull back.

“Mattheo,” you murmured, low enough that the others pretended not to hear, “you can keep saying mean things if it makes you feel better. I’m not leaving this time unless you really want me to. And I don’t think you do.”

His breathing hitched. For a moment, the guarded mask cracked completely. Something raw and conflicted flashed across his face, possessiveness, relief, anger at himself, that hidden softness he buried so deep.

His hand lifted halfway, like he might touch your arm, then dropped back down.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Then louder, sharper, still failing at kindness “You’re going to regret sticking around when I inevitably ruin whatever this is.”

You leaned your head lightly against his shoulder for just a second, testing, pushing, offering. “Maybe. But I’m still here.”

He didn’t shrug you off. Didn’t stand up. Didn’t tell the group to kick you out.

Instead, after a long, heavy silence, his body relaxed, just a fraction, against yours. His arm stayed draped along the back of the couch, fingers inches from your shoulder. Territorial. Close. Accepting.

Pansy caught your eye across the room and hid a triumphant grin behind her magazine. Theo didn’t even bother hiding his smirk as he moved a chess piece.

Mattheo still hadn’t spoken to you nicely. Not really.

But he wasn’t pushing you away anymore.

Your theory had been right. He regretted it. He wanted you back in his orbit closer than before, even if his sharp tongue hadn’t caught up to that truth yet.

You’d rest your head against his shoulder for a moment here, brush his hand while passing a drink there. He tolerated it all with his usual gruff silence and occasional sharp remark, but the tension rolling off him was palpable.

His friends had had enough.

Pansy caught Theo’s eye across the room and gave the tiniest nod. The plan they made that morning was in motion.

“Truth or Dare,” Pansy announced suddenly, clapping her hands. “I’m bored out of my mind and someone needs to entertain me.”

Lorenzo perked up immediately. Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. Blaise smirked like he already knew where this was going.

Mattheo narrowed his eyes but said nothing, he rarely backed down from a challenge, even a stupid one.

You smiled softly. “I’m in.”

The game started innocently enough. Lorenzo admitted to stealing Pansy’s favourite lipstick.

Draco chose dare and had to charm his eyebrows pink for the next ten minutes.

Theo got asked about his latest failed hookup and laughed it off.

Then Pansy turned her sharp gaze on you.

“Truth or Dare, darling?”

You felt the shift in the air. Mattheo’s posture stiffened beside you.

“Dare,” you said, because backing down in front of this group had never been your style.

Pansy’s smile turned wicked. “I dare you to kiss Theo. Proper kiss. Ten seconds.”

The room went still.

Theo raised an eyebrow, clearly in on it, but kept his expression playful. “Only if she wants to. I’m not above being used for a good cause.”

You glanced sideways at Mattheo. His hand had curled into a fist on the armrest, knuckles white. His jaw was locked so tightly it looked painful. Dark eyes burned holes into Theo, then flicked to you, possessive, stormy, conflicted.

Your theory had been right. He was cracking.

You leaned forward slowly, giving Mattheo every chance to say something. He didn’t. He just watched, breathing shallow.

You turned to Theo, cupped his cheek lightly, and pressed your lips to his. It was soft, brief, exactly ten seconds. Theo kissed back gently, more performative than anything, and pulled away with a dramatic sigh.

“Not bad, Puff,” he teased, winking.

You sat back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, heart racing for an entirely different reason. You didn’t look at Mattheo immediately.

The crack appeared.

Mattheo let out a low, dangerous sound, almost a growl. Magic crackled faintly around him, making the fire flare for a second.

“Enough,” he said sharply, voice dripping with venom. “This game is fucking stupid.”

Pansy feigned innocence. “Jealous, Riddle?”

“I’m not jealous of Nott getting pity kisses,” he snapped, the words unwilling and too quick.

His eyes finally met yours raw, territorial, and something deeper. “She can kiss whoever the hell she wants.”

But he looked like he wanted to hex Theo into next week.

You saw the tiny fracture in his restraint. The way his hand twitched like he wanted to pull you into his lap and erase what just happened. The hidden softness bleeding through the anger. He cared. Deeply. He just wouldn’t admit it yet.

The game continued awkwardly for a few more rounds before dying out.

As people started heading to bed or pretending to study, the group quietly regrouped near the fireplace once you’d stepped away to grab water.

“Close,” Theo muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Did you see his face? He nearly lost it.”

“Not enough,” Draco said. “He’s still too stubborn. One little kiss isn’t cracking that reinforced concrete he calls emotional walls.”

Pansy crossed her arms. “New plan then. We need to push harder. Something that forces him to choose publicly. Maybe Hogsmeade this weekend. We get her to ‘casually’ flirt with someone else. Or we set up a situation where she has to be alone with one of us and see how long it takes before he drags her back.”

Blaise chuckled darkly. “Or we make him think she’s actually moving on. He’s possessive as hell. If he believes he might lose her for real…”

Theo glanced over at Mattheo, who was now staring into the fire like it had personally betrayed him. “He’s already regretting everything. We just need one more push and that restraint of his is dead.”

They all looked toward you as you walked back, none the wiser to their scheming.

Mattheo’s eyes followed you the entire way, dark and intense. The crack was there. Now they just had to widen it until he had no choice but to admit what everyone else already knew.

———

The Hogsmeade weekend arrived under a crisp, clear sky the first proper snow dusting the rooftops like powdered sugar.

Students poured out of the castle gates in excited clusters, scarves wrapped high and pockets jingling with allowance money.

The Slytherin group had claimed their usual spot near the Shrieking Shack path for pre butterbeer strategy, but today their energy was sharper, purposeful.

The new plan was simple and ruthless : push Mattheo until his restraint shattered completely.

Pansy had looped her arm through yours as you all walked down the snowy path. “Stick close to me at first,” she whispered, lips barely moving. “Then ‘accidentally’ wander off with Theo or Blaise when we reach the village. We’ll make it look natural.”

You glanced at her, then at Mattheo walking a few steps ahead, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable. “You’re really doing this?”

Theo fell into step beside you, grinning. “He needs it. The kiss barely made him twitch. Time to light a proper fire under his arse.”

You exhaled, a mix of nerves and reluctant amusement fluttering in your chest.

Part of you still felt the sting from his harsh words days ago, but another part, the one that saw every hidden crack in his armor, wanted him to finally admit what was so obvious to everyone else.

“Just… don’t go too far. I don’t actually want to hurt him.”

“Too late for that,” Blaise murmured from behind. “He’s been hurting himself plenty.”

Mattheo slowed slightly, eyes flicking back toward you. You offered him a small, neutral smile the same careful one you’d been giving him since returning to the group. He didn’t return it, but his gaze lingered.

The village was bustling. Honeydukes was packed, Zonko’s even louder. The group moved as one at first, weaving through the crowd.

You stayed near Mattheo out of habit, your shoulder occasionally brushing his in the narrow street. He didn’t pull away.

Inside the Three Broomsticks, you all claimed a large corner booth. Firewhisky for the boys, butterbeers for everyone. Conversation flowed easily until Pansy executed the first move.

“I need to check out that new robe shop,” she announced, standing up. “Come with me, Draco? I want a second opinion.”

Draco sighed but followed, shooting the rest of you a knowing look. Lorenzo tagged along “for snacks.” That left you, Mattheo, Theo, and Blaise.

You took a slow sip of butterbeer, then turned to Theo with a bright, deliberate smile. “Theo, didn’t you say there’s a new shipment of cursed artifacts at Dervish and Banges? I’ve been wanting to see that silver dagger you mentioned last week.”

Theo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Absolutely. Let’s go before the good stuff disappears.” He stood and offered you his hand.

You took it without hesitation, letting him help you out of the booth. Your fingers lingered in his just a second longer than necessary. “Mattheo, Blaise, we’ll be back soon,” you said casually, like it was nothing.

Mattheo’s entire body went rigid. His glass hit the table harder than needed. “Since when do you give a fuck about cursed artifacts?”

You shrugged, still holding Theo’s hand. “Since Theo told me they’re fascinating. You know I like shiny, dangerous things.” Your tone was light, playful the same sweetness you used to direct only at him.

Theo tugged you gently toward the door. “We won’t be long, mate.”

Blaise stayed behind, nursing his drink and watching Mattheo like a hawk.

The snow crunched under your boots as you and Theo walked down the high street.

You didn’t go straight to Dervish and Banges. Instead, Theo led you on a slow, meandering route stopping at a stall selling enchanted jewelry, laughing loudly at your jokes, standing a little too close when showing you a necklace with a tiny snake charm.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” you muttered, cheeks pink from the cold and the performance.

Theo grinned down at you. “It’s for the greater good. Look behind us, don’t turn too obviously.”

You risked a glance. Mattheo was stalking after you both, coat flapping open, expression thunderous. Blaise was a few paces behind him, failing to hide his amusement.

Your heart skipped. The plan was working.

Theo leaned in closer, pretending to examine the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushing your collarbone. “Smile at me like you mean it,” he whispered.

You did, soft, warm, the kind of smile that used to be reserved for Mattheo’s rare good moments. Theo laughed like you’d said something brilliant.

That was when Mattheo snapped.

“Having fun?” His voice cut through the snowy street like a blade. He stopped right beside you, eyes locked on where Theo’s hand still rested near your shoulder. The possessiveness rolled off him in waves, dark and electric. “Didn’t realize you two were suddenly so fucking cozy.”

Theo raised an innocent eyebrow. “Just showing her the artifacts, like she asked. Problem?”

Mattheo’s jaw worked. He looked at you, really looked.

There was that storm again : jealousy burning hot, restraint fraying at the edges, the unwilling mean streak fighting against something deeper.

“You’re really doing this?” he said to you, voice low and sharp. “Parading around with Nott after everything? Thought you were supposed to be the one who saw ‘good’ in people. Not throwing yourself at the first idiot who smiles at you.”

The words stung, but you saw right through them again. His hands were clenched. He was one breath away from dragging you away from Theo. The crack from the truth or dare game had widened significantly.

You stepped just a little closer to Theo, testing. “I’m not throwing myself at anyone, Mattheo. I’m just… spending time with friends. Like you told me to do. Remember? Stop hovering. Stop fixing things for you.”

Mattheo’s eyes darkened dangerously. For a second you thought he might actually hex Theo. Instead, he grabbed your wrist not painfully, but firm enough to feel possessive.

“We’re going back to the group,” he growled. “Now.”

Theo smirked. “Whatever you say, Riddle.”

You let Mattheo pull you along, his grip staying locked around your wrist the entire walk back to the Three Broomsticks.

He didn’t let go even when you reached the booth. He sat down and tugged you into the seat directly beside him closer than you’d been in weeks. His thigh pressed against yours. His arm draped along the back of the booth, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder like a silent claim.

He was still being an arse, muttering sarcastic comments under his breath and shooting Theo lethal glares, but he wasn’t pushing you away.

The plan had started. And it was already cracking him open.

Pansy and the others returned shortly after, taking in the scene with barely concealed triumph. Mattheo didn’t speak to you nicely. Not yet.

But the territorial hold on your wrist, the way his body angled toward yours like a shield, and the raw, conflicted heat in his eyes said more than his sharp tongue ever could.

The restraint was dying.

The rest of the Hogsmeade afternoon passed in a charged haze.

Mattheo didn’t release your wrist for a long time. Even after you all returned to the Three Broomsticks, his arm stayed slung possessively behind you on the booth, fingers occasionally brushing the back of your neck like a silent warning to everyone else.

He was still sharp tongued, snapping at Lorenzo for talking too loud, throwing barbed comments at Theo, but he kept you glued to his side.

The group wasn’t done yet.

As the sun began to dip and snow started falling heavier, they all gathered outside, Pansy with a calculated sigh “It’s getting late. We should head back, but some of us still need to pick up things from Honeydukes. Theo, you mentioned wanting more of that fizzing whizzbees?”

Theo caught on instantly. “Yeah, and I could use help carrying stuff.” He looked straight at you. “Come with me? You’ve got better taste in sweets than these lot.”

You felt Mattheo’s body coil like a spring beside you.

Before you could answer, you turned to him with that same soft, testing smile you’d been using. “Do you mind? I’ll be quick.”

His dark eyes flashed. The crack was widening dangerously. “Yes, I fucking mind,” he bit out, the words escaping before he could stop them. “You’re not going anywhere with him.”

They went quiet. Even Draco raised an eyebrow.

You tilted your head, pushing just a little more. “Why not? You’ve made it very clear I’m exhausting. That I should stop hovering around you. I’m just hanging out with friends, Mattheo. Like you wanted.”

That struck hard. Mattheo’s hand slid from the to your waist, gripping firmly. Territorial. Needy in a way he’d never allowed himself to show.

“You know that’s not ” He stopped, jaw clenching. The internal war was visible, the mean, guarded part of him fighting the part that had grown addicted to your presence, your care, your unwavering light.

Theo slowly, offering his hand again with an exaggerated grin. “Ready when you are, love.”

Pushing further Theo says “It’s just sweets, mate. Unless you’ve got a problem with that?”

Mattheo’s eyes darkened. He pulled you flush against him in one sharp movement, right there on the snowy street in front of everyone. No grand speech. No soft vulnerability. Just raw, irritated truth wrapped in his usual barbed tone.

“Yeah. I’ve got a fucking problem with it.” He glared at Theo, then looked down at you, jaw tight. “You win, alright? Happy now?”

You tilted your head, staying close but testing him one last time. “Win what?”

Mattheo let out a sharp, sarcastic breath, his breath visible in the cold air.

“This. You. The constant hovering and fixing and defending my sorry arse like I’m worth the effort.” His grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it became more territorial.

“I told you to fuck off because it was easier. Because you make shit… simpler. And I hate how much I’ve gotten used to it.”

He glanced at the group, who were all watching with barely hidden smirks, then back at you. His next words came out gruff, almost annoyed at himself for saying them.

“I don’t want you orbiting anyone else. Not Theo. Not some Gryffindor prick. No one. You’re annoying as hell and far too soft for someone like me, but I want you next to me. Where you’ve been. Stop with the careful polite bullshit you’ve been doing since I snapped at you. Just… be there again. Like before.”

It wasn’t flowery. It wasn’t sweet. It was Mattheo, reluctant, possessive, laced with sarcasm and that dark charisma.

He leaned in closer, voice dropping so only you could hear the rest. “And if Nott tries to hold your hand again, I’ll break his fingers. Clear enough for you, Hufflepuff?”

You smiled softly, reaching up to fix the collar of his coat like you used to. He didn’t stop you.

“Crystal clear,” you murmured.

Mattheo huffed, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he slung his arm firmly over your shoulders and started walking back toward the castle, keeping you tucked tightly against his side. The others fell in behind you, Pansy looking victorious and Theo chuckling quietly.

“Fucking finally,” Blaise muttered.

Mattheo shot them all a sharp look. “Say another word and I’ll hex every single one of you.”

But his hand stayed on your shoulder the entire walk back. No more pushing you away. No more pretending he didn’t care. He still wasn’t nice, not really, but the walls had come down in the only way Mattheo Riddle knew how.

And you were right where he wanted you.

———

The castle was quiet by the time you slipped through the Slytherin dungeons, heart hammering against your ribs.

It had been a long evening after Hogsmeade. Mattheo had kept you close the entire way back, but he hadn’t said much more after his gruff admission. The weight of everything still felt new and fragile.

You were nervous. Actually nervous, for the first time in months around him. Your fingers tightened around the rolled up essay you’d finished copying for him (Arithmancy, due tomorrow).

It was a small thing, an old habit, but it gave you an excuse to see him before bed.

You knocked softly on the door to his dorm. Theo and the others were still downstairs, giving the two of you space.

Mattheo opened it in a loose black shirt and trousers, hair messy like he’d already been running his hands through it. His dark eyes softened a fraction when they landed on you.

“Essay,” you mumbled, holding it out. “I know you hate this topic, so I made notes on the side.”

He took it without a word, stepping back to let you in.

The room smelled faintly of him, smoke, cedar, and that sharp edge of magic that always clung to him.

You lingered for half a second too long, then leaned in quickly, pressing a soft, shy kiss to his cheek before immediately turning to leave.

“Sorry, goodnight,” you whispered, cheeks burning as you tried to rush back out.

A flick of his wrist and the door slammed shut, locking with a sharp click.

You froze, back to him. “Mattheo, I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to push, I just”

He was on you in two strides.

His hands came up on either side of your head, caging you against the door with his body. The wood was cool behind your back; he was burning hot in front.

That stern, smug look was fixed on his face, dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction, one corner of his mouth curved in that dangerous half smirk.

“Do it again,” he ordered, voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, still flustered. “I… what?”

“Kiss me again,” he repeated, leaning closer until his breath brushed your lips. “Properly this time. Don’t run.”

Your heart stuttered. The nervousness melted under the intensity of his gaze. You rose onto your toes and kissed his cheek once more, slower this time.

Then, gathering your courage, you turned your head and brushed your lips softly against his.

Mattheo made a low sound in his throat, half satisfaction, half relief. One hand left the door to slide into your hair, tilting your head as he deepened the kiss, claiming your mouth like he’d been waiting weeks to do it. Possessive. Hungry. But there was something almost gentle underneath the fire.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. The smug look had softened into something warmer, more private.

“You’re still an idiot for thinking I’d let you run after that,” he muttered, sharp tongued as ever, but his thumb stroked your cheek. “Told you earlier, you’re mine. That means you don’t get to kiss me and bolt, Hufflepuff.”

You laughed breathlessly, the last of the nerves dissolving. “I was scared you’d regret it tomorrow morning.”

Mattheo huffed, pulling you away from the door and toward his bed. He sat down and tugged you into his lap, arms wrapping around you like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

“I regret a lot of things,” he admitted gruffly. “But not this. Not you.” He pressed another kiss to your temple, almost absentmindedly. “You make my life easier. Better. Even when I’m a moody bastard. So stay.”

You nestled into his chest, tracing lazy patterns on his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” His voice dropped, that dark charisma curling around the words. “Because I’m territorial as hell, and I’ve decided you’re stuck with me now.”

From outside the door, you both heard Theo’s muffled voice “Finally! Can we come in yet or are you two still snogging?”

Mattheo didn’t even look up. “Fuck off, Nott!” he called back, but there was no real heat in it.

You giggled against his neck. He squeezed you tighter, a rare, quiet chuckle rumbling through his chest.

For the first time in a long time, Mattheo Riddle looked… content.

Still guarded, still sarcastic, still carrying shadows, but with you curled in his arms, the weight seemed lighter.

You had seen the good in him from the start. Now he was finally letting himself believe it too.

With his big brown eyes and wildly curly dark hair that once his father matched during one late night when you’d caught him up, with Mattheo, raiding your cookie stash that you’d hidden from Mattheo as he’d tried to eat 10 in one sitting.

You remembered flicking on the light, catching the lord and the then 3-year-old Mattheo mid cookie swipe, both of them with their curls untamed, matching eyes wide as you stood in the doorway, unimpressed.

Tom was the first to book it, over the years—he’d grown too used to you to be so stiff and professional all the time, and Mattheo began crying at his father for abandoning him in this time of need.

“I said, two cookies, at most, sweet boy,” you said, picking the toddler up as he wandered over to you—arms up with demands to be held and comforted. You put away the cookies, somewhere else this time, and turned, speaking aloud. “You’re not off the hook either! He shouldn’t have too much sugar!” you yelled down the hall, where Tom’s bedroom door closed quickly and locked.

You snorted.

Things were comfortable now.

Just as they should be.

=

“It’s been almost three years, Tom. Have you already given up on finding a suitable wife?” Abraxas asked Tom over brunch one day, the two sitting in the back gardens of the Malfoy estate—their sons playing down below with their mothers watching them.

Tom huffed, rolling his eyes. “May I remind you, the wife thing was your idea, not mine.” Tom snarked, sipping at his ice tea, his dark eyes floating over to (y/n) and Mattheo as Mattheo carefully fed the swans that floated in the Malfoy garden pond.

Abraxas glanced with him, a smile growing as he saw his son and wife playing in the patch of daisies that nearly buried Lucius as he lay down with his mother.

He turned his gaze back to (y/n) and Mattheo, the four-year-old trying to take a dip in the pond, (y/n) tugging him back into her lap, tickling him—the sound of Mattheo’s laughter tugging a smile to Tom’s lips. “How long has it been since your last vacation?”

Abraxas randomly asked, and Tom shrugged. “Never,” Tom said, taking a bite of his strawberry croissant. Abraxas raised his brows. “Never?” Abraxas scoffed, and Tom shrugged again. He never found reason or time to take time off.

“What about (y/n)? has she taken any vacation time yet?” Tom paused, she had her days off—well, when she’d first started, and Tom would have to take care of Mattheo because he hated everyone else. Now Mattheo would pout if Tom tried, so (y/n) hadn’t had a day off in three years now. Tom pursed his lips, and Abraxas laughed.

“Take some weeks off, all three of you, go to the sea-side and enjoy the waves. We both know she’ll never have a proper vacation until Mattheo’s grown up a little more, but let the woman have a solace of freedom,” Abraxas teased, and Tom sighed.

“Who’d cover for me at work? I have far too much to do,” Tom asked and Abraxas gestured to himself, Tom glared, and then sighed. “Fine, I’ll book a place,” he grumbled.

Abraxas nodded, sharing a look with his wife, who nodded back—already planning to ask (y/n) to go summer shopping and find her a swimsuit that would drive Tom wild, and perhaps ignite some jealousy.

Phase two was a go.

=

Tom glared at the gloomy sky—the sun still shining through the clouds. A chair was tucked under his arm, bag hanging off his shoulder as Mattheo steamrolled ahead. You were close behind, wearing a flowing short dress overtop your swimsuit. Tom’s eyes were lingering on your legs as the three of you walked across the sand towards the shore.

“Don’t run off, Mattheo!” you called out to him as he grabbed his sand buckets and raced to the water. He pouted, a sight that almost made you fold, but you shook your head, gesturing him back over to you.

Mattheo groaned and tumbled back over, closing his eyes as you applied another layer of sun protection, and put a life vest on him. “I'll be with you in a second, just wait,” you told Mattheo who stamped his foot, watching with a pout as you helped Tom set up the beach spot before Mattheo grabbed the sun protection—handing it to Tom.

Tom rose his brow at his son, eyes hidden behind a pair of sun-glasses, one of the few solid muggle inventions. “What?” Tom asked, Mattheo had already been lathered in sun protection. But Mattheo pointed at you, sticking the umbrella into the sand and setting it up.

“Help mama put it on!” Mattheo said and Tom froze for a split second while you sat up. “I’m fine Mattheo, I already put it on,” You said, but Mattheo shook his head.

“No no! Daddy has to help you!” Mattheo outright demanded, and you could see the tantrum from a mile away—why over something as simple as this? You didn’t know, but you sighed, getting up, Tom still frozen in place as his son shoved the sun protection into his hand and made sure he had all his toys ready while you awkwardly sat beside Tom where he was sitting in a low beach chair.

You gave an awkward smile, Tom was glad for his sunglasses—hiding his wide eyes. “Where do I have to put it?” He eventually asked, thanking Merlin for the lack of voice break.

“On mama’s back! Hard to reach!” Mattheo demanded, recalling watching Uncle Abraxas apply lotion to his wife's back during a lunch playdate. Tom swallowed, and you sighed, shifting off your beach dress, and Tom’s eyes went right down to your chest, the swimsuit fabric pushing your breasts together, and he had to shift quickly, clearing his throat as you turned—exposing your back and shoulder blades.

Tom swallowed again, pouring the sun protection onto his hands, pausing as Mattheo stumbled up—offering his own hands, and he poured a bit into those tiny palms. Mattheo then went to your front and went up on his toes a teeny bit to copy what you’d done for his face, smearing sun protection all over—making you laugh.

Tom’s eyes were glued to your back, and he hesitated for a moment before reaching out, smoothing the sun protection onto your back and up your neck, rubbing his thumbs into the nape of your neck as Mattheo chaotically rubbed it onto your face.

“Done!” Mattheo cheered and Tom took his hands off you at the same time, his ears burning as the feeling of your skin lingered on his fingers and palms. “Thank you darling,” you cooed to Mattheo and Tom quickly held his tongue from responding, cheeks turning pink as he settled back into the beach chair, watching as you took Mattheo’s hand and went out to the water with him.

Tom picked his book up, but he barely read it—dark eyes flickering between the pages and you, standing in the shallow waves as Mattheo dug his sand buckets into the wet sand—trying to find sand crabs.

Tom’s hands tightened on his book as over the next mere seven minutes, several men came up to you and blatantly flirted—and you were just friendly enough to make them linger when they weren’t wanted, but eventually you’d straight up decline any sort’ve date offer and return your full attention to Mattheo.

By the 10th man in just 15 minutes, Tom stood. He didn’t know why—didn’t understand why, but he couldn’t bear watching this anymore. Tom emerged from the safety of the umbrella and headed towards the water. Mattheo beamed when he saw his dad coming towards them and waved enthusiastically. “Daddy!” Mattheo cheered, and you looked up, hair catching in the wind that made Tom nearly stumble.

The man standing far too close to you backed off, apologizing to Tom in particular—before leaving. You frowned, huffing a little as Tom waded into the water to stand beside you, Mattheo taking his hand. “Why did he apologize?” you wondered aloud, unaware of what Devin—the mans name—had assumed of you and Tom.

Tom shrugged, resting his other hand on the inside of your arm as Mattheo showed him all the seashells he’d found.

Tom lingered around you for the rest of the time on the beach—never straying too far because the moment he did—some man assumed you were up for grabs and for some reason; Tom couldn’t stand that thought.

Why? He wasn’t sure, but the burning in his chest demanded he keep close enough to ward off any stupid men.

=

Tom stilled as the three of you stepped into the beach house Tom had rented out. Mattheo was asleep against your shoulder—completely conked out and would be out and down for hours. You stepped inside, admiring the space—setting down the beach bag as Tom walked further inside.

It looked fine, up to his standards, but Tom thought it was quite small to have four bedrooms. He quickly walked through the house, finding a child bedroom, for Mattheo, and one master bedroom.

Tom sighed, running his hand down his face. Only three beds in the whole house. ‘Sleeps four’, the advertisement had said. Must’ve meant two children and two adults, assuming the two adults were together.

He checked the couch, but it didn’t pull out, and there was no extra bed in the whole beach house, minus the 2nd child bed, but Tom did not feel like bothering with magic after such a long day in the sun. You were already putting Mattheo in the bath, and Tom was starving.

You’d packed a lunch, but that was hours ago. Tom sighed, rubbing his face and looking over the notes he made earlier that day while going through the town,  having marked town the several restaurants he’d seen for later.

He took a quick shower and changed, heading back out to get dinner.

-

Mattheo was sound asleep by the time you found Tom in the dining room of the beach house with two bags full of Italian food. “Smells good,” you murmured, adjusting the shoulder of your baggy shirt you’d changed into. Tom hummed, eyes glued to you for a moment before continuing to take out the take-out boxes.

Dinner was quiet, sitting besides each other at the small dining table. Tom eventually spoke. “There's only two bedrooms,” he said, awkwardly, staring at the garlic bread in his hand. “Mattheo’s room, and the master bedroom—and it only has a single bed.”

You paused, taking a moment to process what he’d just said—a day at the beach had really tired you out. “Oh,” you finally said, and Tom slowly nodded. “…I can sleep on the couch,” you said after another few moments, and Tom frowned—glancing at the couch.

It looked comfortable to sit on at most, not wide enough to sleep on. “unnecessary; you will share the bed with me, it is big enough.” He paused for a moment. “This is a vacation for all three of us, I will not have you lose sleep.” Tom said sternly, and you were too tired to question the passion behind that answer, and so you nodded.

A mere hour later, after you’d had showered and changed, the two of you lay in the bed—it was a king sized bed, Tom took the side facing the door, you slept beneath the window—the sound of the ocean faintly drifting through the air.

Tom stared at you, you’d already fallen asleep, curled up with your hands tucked beneath your chin. He didn’t know why, but he reached out—gently brushing his knuckle against your cheek—feeling the softness.

He pulled back as the door creaked open, and Mattheo stared at him from the door. Tom sighed, lifting the blanket, and Mattheo quickly stumbled inside, Tom helping him up onto the bed and watching his son snuggle himself right in between you and Tom.

Mattheo looked content, each hand reached out to hold onto both of his parents. Tom sighed lightly, holding Mattheo’s little hand and closing his eyes.

Ignoring how right this felt.

-end of p11! More vacation cuteness to come!-

thank you all so much for reading~ goodness theres so many of you know, and as always--ill happy take suggestions/ideas for scenarios for these three to get into until Tom finally realizes his feelings lmao

taglist!

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @lynbubble @a-little-funny

@cinderellawithashoe @loveaholic31 @jannie-belaerys @queenanababy @antriimx @littlerabbitwithwings @dinoplantsghost

@helloamalien @tul1preads @wakdjenwowj @noukis @alpacainolover1

@burpmaster200 @fingingjoysblog @yingthebunny @gorangegarrot @whimsybabyy @starmansirius @ithinkaboutyouuu @gxpsywitch19 @mile3na @mewolinsbeard

Her name was Emilia Rosier, a cousin of one of his followers, distant but still related enough to keep the family name. She’d gone to Beauxbatons, had top grades, was head girl, and was extremely skilled in potions.

 And very, very, materialistic.

You noted as Emilia’s several house elves shaded her, fanned her with giant leaves, and kept her stocked with iced tea as they all sat out by the pool on a warm June day, too warm to stay inside the house and melt. She was in some sort of fancy ass swim suit, one clearly meant to entice men and make others stare.

Tom was doing the opposite.

Tom sat on the chair beside Emilia, dark eyes locked onto a book—he was pale even under the shade of a patio umbrella, but had been inclined to sit outside by Emilia, but had been overall persuaded by Mattheo—demanding his father go outside with him and watch him swim with ‘mama’.

“Mama! look!” Mattheo squealed, standing in the shallow end of the pool. You looked up at him, smiling. “Look at you, little lord,” you cooed, holding your arms out, and Mattheo crouched, making the cutest face in concentration, and then jumped towards you—splashing in the water as he swam towards you. You cheered him on.

“Good job,” You cooed, kissing his rosy cheek that was pasty with sunblock potions, making Mattheo giggle. Emilia’s lip curled lightly, Tom stared over the edge of his book, his gaze trailing down the curve of your shoulder, you were wearing a modest swimsuit, but it still exposed more skin than he was used to from you.

Emilia glanced at Tom and worked her jaw a little. She’d told herself that she didn’t mind the nanny, but that was before she’d realized just how much Tom looked at the nanny, and not her. “Perhaps you should bring Mattheo inside, it’s not good for little ones to be in the sun for so long, even with sun protection on,” Emilia said softly, and you glanced back at her.

It had barely been 30 minutes, but you had a feeling perhaps wanted one-on-one time with the lord, though you didn’t appreciate her telling you—the nanny—how to take care of Mattheo.

But, You understood her want to be alone with the lord, they were courting and she was a possibility for his bride, so you scooped Mattheo up and waded out of the pool—grabbing a towel and heading back inside. Tom’s eyes followed you, frowning.

“Mattheo was fine, (y/n) knows what she’s doing, she’s been his nanny for years,” Tom said, and Emilia pursed her lips, looking back down at her magazine—and then her eyes went wide as Tom got up and went inside after you and Mattheo, taking his book with him.

Emilia huffed, grabbing her iced tea, grumpily continuing to read her magazine.

Two weeks later, and you abruptly realized you hadn’t seen Emilia around recently, in fact, you hadn’t seen her since the day at the pool. You were hesitant to ask the lord about her, considering whoever he was courting wasn’t really your business, but…you were curious.

So you asked, and—

“She was trying to tell you how to take care of Mattheo. Anyone who feels they have authority over you and Mattheo has no business as a potential bride,” Tom said shortly, reviewing paperwork as you blinked.

…well then.

“Understood,” You said faintly, while not fully understanding why that had bothered him. Tom looked up at you, waiting to see if you had anything else to say, but you just excused yourself, going off to make lunch for Mattheo.

Tom flipped his pen between his fingers, his gaze lingering on the doorway before looking back down at his paperwork.

Abraxas had made him host the spring gala, much to Tom’s chagrin, there was a reason he’d deflected hosting so often, he liked his privacy and ability to go home; now he had to wait till everyone left to finally decompress.

But…Tom’s eyes lifted from the rim of his glass, catching onto (y/n)’s figure as she walked after Mattheo, who was toddling around the room, his curls wild mess but looking very dapper in his tiny suit.

(y/n), was in a sleek gown, her leg just barely visible through a short slit in the side. Her high heels clicking against the floor. “quite the woman you’ve got, Riddle,” Rozzvir said as he approached Tom, his eyes dark with more than just appreciation as he watched (y/n) scoop Mattheo up and away from the refreshment table.

“Her? she’s just the nanny,” Abraxas said, and Tom didn’t like the tone of his voice, that scheming one that always got Tom in trouble. Tom narrowed his eyes at his oldest friend as Rozzvir, some fellow ministry worker—below Tom but not poor in the slightest, smirked, handing off his drink.

“You wouldn’t mind then, would you, Riddle?” Rozzvir asked, and Tom could barely comprehend what he meant before Rozzvir bee-lined to (y/n) and began flirting.

(y/n) blinked, holding Mattheo a little closer as she stared at Rozzvir, working her jaw as she glanced around as Rozzvir leaned even closer.

“What did you do that for?” Tom asked Abraxas, glaring lightly, keeping an eye on (y/n) and Rozzvir, who kept leaning in closer, a stupid grin on his ugly face.

“Do what? Our dear nanny is quite single, and she can't be a nanny forever,” Abraxas said, hiding a smirk behind his mug as Tom’s blood began to burn, a flicker of images flying through his mind. He downed his wine and glided over to (y/n), taking her waist.

She squeaked a little, and Mattheo made a happy noise, reaching towards his father. “Mattheo should be heading to bed for his nap; all this excitement is making him cranky,” Tom said, glaring at Rozzvir, who held his hands up in surrender—quickly getting the nonverbal warning to back off.

(y/n) glanced down at Mattheo, who wasn’t cranky in the slightest but allowed Tom to steer her down the hall towards the nursery, where it was far quieter—and Mattheo did begin to slump with sleepiness, his little eyes fluttering shut as you changed him and set him into his crib.

You turned, noticing Tom hadn’t left the room quite yet, lingering in the doorway. “What did Rozzvir want?” Tom asked, and all you could do was shrug.

“I wasn’t listening to him,” you said, having only been thinking of ways to escape him, and quite thankfully—Tom had done that for you. Tom slowly nodded, catching your arm as you made to leave the nursery, your eyes meeting his.

He held your gaze for a long moment before sighing—thinking for a moment of what to say. “If anyone else makes you uncomfortable like that…don’t be afraid to stay by my side,” Tom murmured, and you slowly nodded.

His hand slid down your arm, fingers catching the curve of your wrist before he pulled away, the two of you rejoining the party.

Abraxas smirked behind his glass.

Phase one, complete.

-end of p10!-

Short but sweet! Idk but I want more…shenanigans before Tom really realizes his feelings, but enjoy! And I will very much appreciate more ideas from you guys!

taglist!

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @death-b4decaf @lynbubble

@chimchoom @lanalanalanasworld @undecided-simp @a-little-funny

@sterngvker @rysology @cinderellawithashoe @loveaholic31

@princesspeach0-0 @jannie-belaerys @queenanababy @antriimx

@littlerabbitwithwings @dinoplantsghost @finelyyyyyyyy @sux2by

@helloamalien @tul1preads @wakdjenwowj @noukis

@alpacinolover1 @burpmaster200 @findingjoysblog @yingthebunny

“You’re gonna be walking any day now, little one,” you cooed, smiling at Mattheo as he stood up next to a table, legs wobbly—one hand gripping the coffee table as the other held his favorite stuffed toy, dark eyes wide as he looked at you. “Come on, come on, sweet boy, you can do it.”

You cooed, gesturing Mattheo forward, he stared…and plopped right back down onto his butt. You laughed, shaking your head. “Not today, then?” You sighed, getting up and scooping up the little lord, heading for the kitchen to make him a snack.

Later that day, as you were sitting in the living room, enjoying the sound of the rain outside and Mattheo’s toddler babbles as he played. The front door slowly opened, the weary figure of the lord entering the manor after too long being away.

Tom sighed, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on the coat hanger beside the door, not even bothering to be proper and taking his shoes off at the door, his shoulders relaxing at the warmth of the manor.

“Dadaaa!” A squeal came from the carpet area, and Tom looked up—blinking wide as he saw Mattheo come tumbling towards him, on two feet, arms out stretched with a gummy smile. “dada!”

You covered your mouth with your hands, eyes wide with delight as Tom stared, before crouching, holding his hands out to Mattheo. “C’mon,” he whispered, voice carefully quiet, unable to help the smile that cracked on his face as Mattheo stumbled right into his hands, smiling.

“Dada!” Mattheo squealed, making grabby hands at his father's face, and Tom let out a low sigh, more tension easing from his shoulders as he stood—pulling Mattheo close, who snuggled right up to his father.

“Those were his first steps,” You said quietly, and Tom froze, looking down at Mattheo, who was tucking his head into Tom’s shoulder.

His son’s first steps, and he was here for them…and was the reason for them. He held Mattheo a little tighter, swallowing hard. “Good.” Tom said, clearing his throat as his voice wavered a little. “he’s developing well,”

You nodded with a smile, and Tom, hesitating for a moment, joined you in front of the fireplace, setting Mattheo back down, who handed Tom a toy and demanded some playtime.

Tom—had no clue how to play, he’d never done it before.

He looked to you for help and you just shrugged. “just, move the toy around, make noises,” You said, and Tom stuck his tongue into his bottom lip, before awkwardly playing with Mattheo, who smiled and made a lot of noises that Tom assumed meant good things.

Tom put Mattheo to bed that night, you smiled, closing the door of your connected room.

Tom stared at his oldest and most trusted friend with a look he’d never worn at him before. Frustration.

“I am not. Doing that.” Tom seethed, setting down his quill, leaning back into his chair, and crossing his arms stubbornly. Abraxas sighed from where he sat in the cushy chair across from Tom’s desk.

“People are beginning to talk, Tom, and routinely, a ministry official with a wife and child usually ascends in the ministry much faster,” Abraxas said. “You remember Beifong, he was perfect for minister, but because he had no wife, or child, people didn’t trust him, and that coon Peiv’te won instead.”

Tom rolled his eyes, glaring at his papers.

“I don’t care if people care if my son has an ‘official’ mother or not, or if I have a wife or not. I’m not getting married just to please some stuffy old wizards,” Tom sneered. “Besides, it’s not like I’m running for minster, or do you forget the plan?” Tom drawled, and Abraxas shook his head with a sigh.

“I don’t, but it’ll be perhaps the easier way, and you’ll gain more trust with honey than acid.” Abraxas said wisely, and Tom huffed again, puffing his cheeks.

“Are you staying you don’t want me to overthrow the ministry to instate a new rule that would benefit us and preserve wizard kind?” Tom drawled, and Abraxas raised his hands in surrender.

“I never said that, I just mean, perhaps; you’ll find less fight in the people if you do it the legal way, and many pureblood lords, while you do have many followers amongst us, will find more respect in you if you marry a respectable woman. It’s a sign of stability and trust.” Abraxas said cooly, and Tom groaned, running his hand down his face.

“Even if I did want to get married, there aren't many who would be okay with me already having a child, and having a live-in nanny. Of whom, the child calls his mother.” Tom drawled, pinching his nose. Abraxas had to agree, Tom had him there.

“You have a point, I’ll admit,” Abraxas sighed, turning his head as he heard the squealing laughter of his son Lucius playing with Mattheo. “But just think about it, Tom. Having a wife could help you out in many areas.” Abraxas said, standing, slipping his cloak on.

“What other areas, other than gaining pureblood sympathy,” Tom drawled, rolling his eyes. Abraxas smirked.

“Like getting laid and finally getting your wand out of your ass,” Abraxas said and then quickly ran away as Tom’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide, before he scrambled up and began chasing after Abraxas.

-

You glanced up from watching Lucius and Mattheo playing, blinking as Abraxas laughed and scooped Lucius up as he bolted by, the lord on his heels.

“Uh,” you murmured, squealing a little as the lord ran right into you. But he picked you up and set you aside at the last second, all while continuing to run after Abraxas, who cackled as he ran out of the manor, the lord cursing after him.

You looked down at Mattheo, who was also watching the strange scene, before he looked up at you and babbled out your title ‘mama’, sighing softly; you crouched down and scooped him up, waving your wand to clean up the toys and heading back to the nursery now that Mattheo’s play date was over.

Much later, you were cleaning up the kitchen after some late night comfort baking, humming to yourself. Mattheo was asleep, the house was quiet. You turned, jolting back at the shadow in the doorway, your wand went flying, and the lord caught it as it flung at his face. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, hands held to your lips—eyes wide.

The lord let out an…amused? Huff, flipping your wand around in his fingers, striding over, and handing it back to you. “Don’t, I did not mean to frighten you,” The lord murmured, and you took your wand back, slipping it up your sleeve.

“It’s okay sir, I frighten easily,” you joke it off, waving your hand dismissively, and the lord hums, taking in the kitchen and then the warm, chocolaty smell coming from the oven.

“What are you making?” He asked, almost awkwardly. The two of you didn’t talk much outside of Mattheo.

“Cookies, chocolate chip.” It went quiet after that, the lord resting against the counter as you finished cleaning up.

“Abraxas thinks I should take on a wife,” He finally says, and you raise your brow, looking at him curiously, and a little appalled. “That was my reaction as well,” The lord huffs, running his hand through his hair. “I do not have a need for one, personally. You are here to care for Mattheo as his…mother, I cannot deny that anymore,”

You nod slowly, turning off the sink. He continued; “And I do not have a need to take a wife for any personal reasons, but he thinks I should take one to further my goals within the ministry, that I might gain favor amongst the purebloods and more traditional wizards of the ministry,”

He lets out a long sigh. “And, why are you telling me?” You ask, and the lord shrugs.

“You are involved in my life, in my son's life, bringing a wife into the home will not only affect me, but Mattheo and you. If I were to marry, I’d have to find someone not only okay with me already having a son, but someone who’d be fine with Mattheo seeing someone else as his mother, a nanny at that.” You slowly nodded, okay, you saw his logic there.

“Oookay,” you murmured, twisting your lips to one side.

His gaze dropped to them without his realization before they flicked back up, the moment passed by without pause.

“I would request your help in helping me…find a wife,” the lord ground out slowly, pinching his nose. You couldn’t help the snort, and he gave you a withering look, and you turned your head, holding back a smile.

“Asking the nanny to help you find a wife? What would the old-fashioned wizards say?” You couldn’t help but tease, and he rolled his eyes, stepping back as the oven timer rang, and you took the cookies out of the oven.

Eventually, you spoke again as he hadn’t left the kitchen. “Okay, I’ll…help, if I can. Someone who is fine with you already having a son, and a nanny who is your son's mother figure, shouldn’t be…too hard?” you said, not sounding confident.

The lord let out a scoff, stealing a cookie, smirking as you gave him a look like you would Mattheo. “Yes, not hard at all,” He muttered, taking his leave, and you sighed.

This would be fun.

It took another month and Abraxas needling Tom to finally start putting out adverts, which you thought was funny, putting out a marriage advert as if just looking for a nanny or cab driver. Women of all types arrived in droves, many of them were very nice, lots of them were fine with Mattheo, some even okay with you, but the lord sent them on their way anyway.

“They weren’t a good fit,” He’d say when Abraxas gave him another exasperated look. He’d also arrived to help Tom find a wife. There were, of course, the women who Tom could tell just wanted status, money, and power; with cruel intentions behind their eyes, some of them hid it behind a smile, some were upfront.

One had the audacity to order you to ‘shut the boy up’ when Mattheo was babbling away, and you personally hexed her out of the house.

Tom hid a smirk behind his teacup as you huffed, slamming the door. “Bitch,” you muttered beneath your breath, and Tom inhaled his tea—coughing as it went down the wrong pipe. Abraxas snorted, patting Tom’s back as he cleared his airways, and you returned to your spot with Mattheo on the couch, handing him back his toy.

“This is hopeless, Abraxas, this—interview bullshi—“ he stopped himself from cursing as you gave him a short glare, he cleared his throat, continuing as Abraxas smirked. He got the same look from his wife when almost cursing around Lucius.

 “— is not going to work, only the money power hungry ones are going to end up in here, and if they’re not that, they’re not pleasant to (y/n) or Mattheo.” Tom grunted, and Abraxas sighed, brushing his platinum blonde hair back.

“I have to agree Tom, perhaps a more, personal route would bear more fruit,” Abraxas said, and Tom gave him an annoyed look. “Im. Not. Dating.” Tom practically hissed, and Abraxas only shrugged.

“Then I suppose you can say goodbye to being minister for magic,” Abraxas sighed dramatically, and Tom groaned, pressing his hand into his eyes as you excused yourself, leaving the room.

Abraxas smirked as Tom’s gaze followed you.

“And perhaps, your future wife is closer than you think?” Abraxas teased, but Tom only glanced, no hint of understanding in his eyes, and Abraxas had to hold back a sigh.

Slow burn it was.

-End!-

Pleeease! Give me ideas for silly things for these two to get into!! Or else Abraxas is just gonna shove them in a closet until Tom finally realizes his feelings…that or the order attacks the manor and it goes up in flames and (y/n) has a near death that has Tom confessing/realizing his feelings, idk vibes, but ideas! Please!

Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!

taglist!

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @death-b4decaf @lynbubble

@chimchoom @lanalanalanasworld @undecided-simp @a-little-funny

@sterngvker @rysology @cinderellawithashoe @loveaholic31

@princesspeach0-0 @jannie-belaerys @queenanababy @antriimx

@littlerabbitwithwings @dinoplantsghost

And now, you had a little baby to nurture that love of Christmas into. You’d been back at the Riddle manor for a little over two months now, and it had been like nothing had changed, except Mattheo freely called you ‘mama’ now, not that you or the lord could do anything about that.

You were mama, and that was that.

You hummed lightly, decorating your room with Christmas touches here and there, Mattheo having tummy time on the floor, babbling away as he played with some soft blocks. You flared out the Christmas quilt-one handed down by your grandmother to you, a precious item-and pressed away the creases, smiling as you stepped back and admired it all.

It was a cozy Christmas, reds and golds and greens, with snow men and reindeer, with holly and wreaths. You smiled to yourself, satisfied with the décor, looking down at Mattheo, who was now looking at it all in awe. “Like it?” you asked, crouching and scooping the toddler up.

“Yes, Mama,” Mattheo said in a soft voice, he was speaking more and more every day, you smiled, squeezing him a little as he wrapped his arms around your neck and you went back into the nursery; where his crib had been replaced with a short railed cot, low to the ground. His room was all christmasy as well, filled with greens and reds, mostly green.

Mattheo loved it, since last year you hadn’t done anything for Christmas-being so new to the family and unsure how the lord felt about Christmas. But now that you were pretty solidly apart of Mattheo’s life, merlin forbid you ever left again, you decided some Christmas cheer was allowed.

“Ready to go decorate the tree?” you excitedly asked Mattheo and he nodded, his binkie now in his mouth as he held it in his little fist. You went down the wreath-decorated stairs to the living room, which was also decorated. The tree was 10 feet tall to match the enormous size of the living room, sitting prettily in the corner.  

You set Mattheo down and he began crawling around, which you didn’t stop him, there was a magical barrier around the area to keep him contained and near you.(since last time…he’d snuck into the lord’s meeting room during a meeting, luckily, nothing bad happened; in fact, he spent the meeting on the lords lap while you stood anxiously outside.)

You began opening ornament boxes and drew your wand across the branches to place the gentle twinkling lights all around the tree. “Here darling,” you whispered, scooping Mattheo up, helping him put a little glass baby snake ornament on the tree, specifically bought to represent Mattheo, a larger snake ornament curled just next to it on the branch above, symbolizing the lord.

Mattheo made a contented noise and you gently set him back down to let him crawl around as you put up more ornaments by hand. Most of them were very classic glass ornaments, green, red, and gold, with a few special ornaments, like some that you valued greatly from when you were young and celebrated Christmas. You hid those around the back, since yes, while you were the nanny and ‘mama’, you felt you shouldn’t put your personal ornaments in the front of the tree.

“What is this?” You let out a quiet, startled squeak and whirled around, glass ornament in hand, seeing the lord almost, glaring at all the decorations. He wasn’t, he’d just grown used to the cold décor of the manor, so seeing red’s, gold’s, and warm green’s instead of black, silver, and cold green threw him off.

“Uhm, Christmas decorations?” you said with an almost awkward shrug, hoping he didn’t mind. The lord looked at the lights and ornaments on the large tree, and then at Mattheo, who was staring at the tree with a look of quiet awe. “is this okay?” you asked, hoping you hadn’t overstepped. The lord closed his eyes, and let out a quiet sigh.

“This is fine. I was coerced into hosting a Christmas party this year anyways, so this will do.” the lord muttered, leaning down to pick up Mattheo-who was pointing at the tree; walking around with the young toddler, who grasped one of your ornaments and then put it in view at the front of the tree. You blinked.

How did Mattheo even know to do that? And just manipulated his father into doing so. Like father, like son you supposed. “Continue, but my office and meeting room go untouched.” The lord said, setting Mattheo down gently again, and you nodded slowly, watching him walk away before continuing to decorate the tree.

-

Three days later, the manor was full of people, acquaintances of the lord, some closer than others, most of whom you’d heard their voices before but never saw their faces due to always being hidden by silver masks.

You wore a Christmas dress, Mattheo on your hip, also dressed in his best with a cute little green bowtie-his curly hair a wild mess on his head that added to his charm. Every woman at the party simply adored Mattheo, many of which asked you if you were his mother, and while Mattheo seemed to enjoy you being called that. Mama, being babbled in your ear every time; you assured them, you were just the nanny that Mattheo had gotten VERY attached to.

“Mama mama,” Mattheo babbled in your ear, his eyes on everything and everyone as you walked through the party guests towards the kitchen to get Mattheo some milk.

“I hear you darling,” you murmured, rubbing his leg-passing through the kitchen doorway, just as the lord was coming through the other way. “Sorry m’lord,” you said to excuse yourself, when you heard the whoop of cheers aimed towards you. the lord was confused as well, raising his brow before looking up when one of his guests pointed above both of you.

You froze, looking up.

Mistletoe.

“Fu-fudge.” You nearly cursed, face growing hot as the lord closed his eyes as if agitated. Wizard kind was very superstitious, and walking away from mistletoe without a kiss just spelled bad luck.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” you heard from the crowd of guests, and you knew you must’ve been as red as a Poinsettia. Mattheo clapped his hands in your arms, smiling at the two of you. The lord took a long look at Mattheo, who giggled and clapped again.

Just as the lord began to grab your chin and lean in-you got an idea. Mattheo was also under the mistletoe. You quickly lifted the toddler between the two of you, and the lord couldn’t help but smirk, a brilliant idea.

You both kissed Mattheo’s cheeks, and he giggled, wiggling in your arms as you were met with a mixture of boos and cheers. “Oh come on, give us a real kiss Tom!” Abraxas Malfoy yelled, drunk already, swaying against his wife, who rolled her eyes.

You simply disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of milk from the house elves and some mashed potatoes.

The party went on uneventfully for the rest of the night, until the very end.

-

Tom hadn’t wanted this party, but Abraxas had forced it on him. ‘you never host them! I always do, it’s your turn, just this once. Besides, you can show off your son and his nanny.’ It wasn’t a good reason to host the party, but it was a reason.

And…he had to admit, you had done well with all the décor. It was warm, inviting, it reminded him of Hogwarts during the holidays; so everything was taken in fondly.

Though his face didn’t show it.

He nearly got caught in several mistletoe mishaps by several woman who were attempting to court him, but he manage to avoid it, until he’d gotten caught under it with you. He felt a spark of agitation, he knew you weren’t the one to put these blasted plants up, there was no reason to. He blamed Abraxas.

Then you held up Mattheo between you and he nearly laughed, quick thinking on your part. He leaned in, kissing Mattheo’s opposite cheek from you and disappearing back into the crowd as you went into the kitchen.

And then at the end of the night-you’d put Mattheo down for bed and were helping clean up and say goodbye to the guests, when somehow. “Ah, too bad, neither of you could escape it forever,” Abraxas said with a snicker, his cheeks flushed, a mistletoe hanging above you and Tom.

There were only a handful of people left, maybe 12 at most, but they were all staring, cheering-egging them on to kiss. Tom scrunched his face, but then paused to himself.

Why did the idea of kissing you, not sound…bad? He’d always thought of it as an unnecessary and even gross action, he’d avoided kissing games and anything to do with romance for years, the closest he’d got was when he made Mattheo with her mother, and they did that through magic, not through sex.

By all logic, he was technically still a virgin; never even kissed before. But he looked down at you and your flushed face, and grabbed your chin-you gasped, he leaned in, and pressed his lips to yours. It was quick, no longer than half a second, but his guests cheered and finally left, and he bid you goodnight, clenching his hand as he walked away.

-

Christmas morning was calm and quiet, a fire in the fireplace, cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven, and Mattheo ripping into presents like a tiny maniac. Tom sat in a chair near the fire, watching his son open presents. Mattheo let out a very loud happy sound when he ripped open a gift to find a giant stuffed snake, gifted by you.

You smiled as Mattheo hugged the giant snake, Nagini giving a jealous hiss from below Tom’s chair. “It’s just a toy Nagini,” Tom murmured with a small chuckle, sipping at hot apple cider.

Mattheo crawled back towards the tree-grabbing at gifts, his little lips pouting as he looked at the tag he couldn’t read. “That’s for your dada,” you whispered to Mattheo, who turned, holding the gift towards Tom.

“Dada,” Mattheo said, Tom frowned, he got a gift? He leaned forward, thanking Mattheo and taking the gift, twisting it in his hands as Mattheo found another gift for himself.

It was a small long box, possibly a pen. He slipped off the bow and ripped off the wrapping. It was a fine glass ink dip pen, hand crafted with silver and green glass. He met your eyes and you looked away, watching as Mattheo ripped open another gift.

Tom twisted the pen in his hand, humming to himself.

You’d gotten him a gift.

-end of p8-

Merry Christmas! And happy holidays to everyone else who celebrates whatever else!

taglist!

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @death-be4decaf @lynbubble

@chimchoom @lanalanalanasworld @undecided-simp @a-little-funny @sterngvker @rysology @cinderellawithashoe @loveaholic31

So even if this made Mattheo resent him later in life, it was necessary, Mattheo didn’t need a mother, and Voldemort didn’t want someone with that title in his life, uneased by the implications of it.

He looked at Mattheo’s new nanny/governess, his face stern. “Get settled in,” he ordered, turning away as the older woman nodded, taking the still crying Mattheo to the nursery.

Two weeks later, Voldemort hired a new nanny, the governess couldn’t handle him-Mattheo’s magic unstable and blowing out in bursts, to the point of injuring the woman and she left. The new nanny was around his age, thankfully did not make moves at him but she also was replaced three weeks later, Mattheo hated her-refused to eat, sleep, or sit still-Voldemort had to take over because Mattheo began to drop weight and only slightly behaved for his father, if at all.

The first month he hired two nannies, both didn’t last, the second month he hired three, none of them lasted past the first week, the third month he went through six nannies, not one of them could get Mattheo to calm down, and half of them tried to get into his pants.

He was getting frustrated, having to take more and more time off to take care of Mattheo since none of the nannies he hired worked out-Mattheo hated every single one, he cried every day, refused meals half the time and his magic burst out in waves-Voldemort had to have the house elves pack half the house away due to the destruction Mattheo wrought.

Through the three months so far, Mattheo only said one word. Mama. And there was only one woman that Mattheo thought of like that-(y/n). at this point he was starting to reconsider the idea of never letting Mattheo see her again. He was exhausted, tired, and just about ready to give into Mattheo’s demands, but he wasn’t going to-not yet.

He contacted a nanny business…and ended up going through their entire stock, all of them were older women; none tried to flirt thank merlin but none of them Mattheo liked and one even tried to hit him! Voldemort nearly killed her but instead sent her straight off, and then he was out of luck-he’d gone through every single nanny or governess in London, not a single one had worked out.

Mattheo would only let two people care for him, his father, and his ‘mama.’

Voldemort let out a long, low, sigh; pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been four months. He had hit his limit, Mattheo refused to settle, and wanted one person back-one person who made the house run smoothly and not only took care of Mattheo, but of Voldemort too-he never realized she left those good cups of tea on his desk that got him through the long days.

He picked up a blank piece of paper, and grabbed a pen.

-

When a week passed and he didn’t get a response, he brushed it off-perhaps she was mulling it over or had gotten a new nanny job and had no time to respond.

The second week passed and he got oddly…concerned. All past letters with (y/n) had been quick responses, no later than a day, two weeks was strange. He sent another owl but it returned the same day with the letter still in its beak-that set alarm bells off in his head, Owls only returned with letters if they couldn’t find their recipient.

Voldemort had to calm himself, there was no reason he should feel panicked about this-but the less logical side about him-the side that cared about his son so deeply; told him that Mattheo’s ‘mama’ was in danger, and he needed to send someone to her apartment right away.

He ignored that feeling for only an hour before grabbing his cloak himself, and following his owl to (y/n)’s apartment. Something felt off as soon as he arrived, slowly walking up the steps, rounding the corner. The lock was open, the door just slightly ajar.

He pushed open the door-it swung open with too much ease, he drew his wand, creeping into the apartment. It was dark-the curtains drawn and the apartment was a mess. Not a normal mess either, but like something had happened mess-décor was on the floor, the couch was blasted with a spell-still smelling of burnt fabric-things were knocked over.

There had been a struggle, and Voldemort swallowed harshly. “Lumos,” he muttered, the tip of his wand illuminating the space around him. He quickly found blood on the floor, mud tracks on the floor from boots that (y/n) did not have.

Someone took her, he found the letter he sent her two weeks back on her counter, crumbled. She was clean, (y/n) didn’t just toss letters away, no-and clearly she’d gotten his letter, and someone else had seen it too-perhaps someone against him.

He could only think of one someone who would take his sons nanny, Dumbledore.

-two weeks earlier-

You stared down at the letter from Mattheo’s father, your knee bouncing as you read it over and over again. He wanted you to come back, to be Mattheo’s nanny again-because Mattheo was throwing the biggest tantruam the world had ever seen and the lord had decided Mattheo’s welfare was worth more than him not having his ‘mama’.

You sighed, biting your lip. You did want to go back, it was a good stable job with a kid you did adore.

…You stood, going to grab some paper and a pen when you heard your door click open-you were instantly on alert, pulling your wand out, a stunning spell already on your lips. “Stupefy!” you bellowed-the red blast hitting the cloaked figure that entered your apartment right in the chest, sending them back-two more figures entered-shields up as you tried to defend yourself.

Your chest was tight with panic, stumbling back towards the table, hand landing on the surface to regain balance-crumpling the letter under your palm. “Get out of my apartment!” you yelled, sending a curse-one figure dodged it while the other sent a curse right back. You ducked, flinging your wand in a sideways curve-sending everything loose in your apartment towards the two figures-knocking one down but the other twisted his wrist and sent them back at you.

It happened too quick and a cup shattered against your head, sending you crumbling to the floor, groaning as you tried to keep awake-only to be spelled asleep as the figures approached you. “no,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut as you were grabbed and slung over a shoulder-apartment left behind in the dark as they shut the lights off.

-present time-

Two weeks, that was your best guess for how long it's been since you’d been taken. You blinked, slow, the taste of blood in your mouth hung heavy, and your limbs felt like lead, twinging with pain every few seconds. Your head spun, and you couldn’t swallow without wincing.

You weren’t completely sure who had taken you, but they had something against your ex-boss, constantly asking you questions about him and his ‘plans’ which you had absolutely no idea of-the only thing you could gather was those meetings he had with the people in dark cloaks and masks were more than just fancy parties.

Your eyes fluttered open as light flooded the room once more, looking up to see a figure walking towards you, silhouetted by the light from the door. “Now, you’ve had plenty of time to think this over, and we really don’t want to be doing this.” The figure, a man, said, sitting in front of you, face not visible due to the blinding light in your eyes. “What are the dark lord's plans? What do you know? Where is his base? Who are his followers?” The man asked, his wand flipping between his fingers.

“I don’t…” You croaked out, shaking your head. “I don’t know I was….just the nanny…” You murmured, truthfully, but the man in front of you didn’t seem to believe you.

“I find that hard to believe,” he murmured, sighing. “I’ll ask you one last time. What do you know? Tell us, and you’ll go free.” You only shook your head again, you knew nothing about-whatever his plans were, you were only Mattheo’s nanny.

“I was his son's nanny, that’s it,” you muttered, practically begging, taking a deep shaky inhale. “I was fired three months ago because his son got too close to me, please-just-let me go, I don’t know anything.” You pleaded, a tear streaking down your cheek. The man before you sighed, shaking his head, standing.

He left and the room was thrown into pure darkness again, you let out a low sob-letting your head hang between your shoulders. “I don’t know anything,” you whispered.

It felt like hours passed before the door opened again, you’d passed out-head hanging low. Footsteps were slow at first before they rushed towards you-cold hands cupping your face.

“(y/n)? (y/n), wake up. Wake up now.” The man, voice familiar but new in the panicked tone. “Shit-(y/n) come on, Mattheo needs you, he’s been going insane without you.” he whispered, taking his wand, cutting the binding spell that tired your arms and legs to the wooden chair. You slumped forward, he caught you.

His hand felt for your pulse and let out a sigh of relief when he felt it-it was still strong. You were alive, a bit beaten up but alive. “im taking you back to the manor,” he murmured, carefully picking you up, cradling you against his chest, an action that was stiff and unfamiliar, but he carried you out-passing by death eaters as they rummaged through the orders safe house.

He could only be thankful he had a mole within Dumbledore’s side, and once he’d called for a search-you’d been found within the hour, and now you were in his arms, unconscious and hurt but alive, ready to go back to Mattheo.

-

Light penetrated the darkness of your eyes, and you let out a small groan-you were sore-head pounding and mouth too dry. You slowly turned your head away from the sunlight, planting a hand down to try and sit up-then realized you could do so-you weren’t bound to a chair anymore. You opened your eyes, looking around.

You were in the manor, in the room that you lived in for a year that connected to Mattheo’s nursery. Faintly you could hear the cry of a toddler, Mattheo-bawling about something. You sat up more, rubbing your face, exhausted, thirsty, and terribly hungry.

You slipped out of bed, carefully planting your feet on the ground, looking down at yourself. Your bruises were covered in bruise paste to help them heal quicker, and you had bandages around your arm. You wore a nightgown that went down to your knees-someone must’ve gone back to your apartment to grab your clothes.

You went into the nursery, the sound of Mattheo’s crying growing louder and clear, he was being held by the lord, who kept trying to shush him, walking around the nursery with him. “Sir?” you asked, voice raspy and he turned quickly-Mattheo saw you and practically tried to launch himself towards you.

“Mama!!” he cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks with renewed vigor. You met the toddler halfway, taking him into your arms. His cries quieted but were still strong, tears of relief and happiness.

You looked at the lord, who had collapsed into the rocking chair next to Mattheo’s crib, taking a long deep breath-his hair was a mess and he was paler than what you remembered. “would you be willing to be his nanny again?” he asked, the first thing he said to you in three and a half months. You blinked, looking down at Mattheo who had snuggled up as tight as he could-arms tight around you as possible, having quickly calmed right into sleep.

You went to respond but he was already talking again, exhausted clear in his tone. “He never sleeps anymore, I can barely get him to eat-I went through twelve nannies, twelve-and a full staff of a private nanny business!” he said, exasperated, standing to pace the room, the most animated you’d ever seen him. He continued to ramble, pacing back and forth while you just tracked him with your eyes, holding Mattheo close. “he refuses to behave for anyone, his magic is becoming unstable due to his emotional state-he constantly cries for you and-“ he took a deep breath, rubbing his face.

“i believed sending you away would do Mattheo good, I did not want him a mother-I did not want the implications of it and I wanted him raised in my image, but-he’s struggling. I’m struggling-the whole manor is struggling because I fired you, so…please.” He finally looked at you, his hands dropping to his sides. “Will you be his…” He hesitated for only a moment. “Nanny, mother-mama-whatever. He needs you.”

You waited for a moment to see if he would keep talking before you nodded, smiling softly. “Yes sir, I’d be happy to come back and be his nanny again,” you murmured and he let out a massive sigh of relief, rubbing his hands on his face again.

“Thank, Merlin. He’s been driving me insane, this is the first he’s actually sleep in a week.” he muttered, running his hands through his messy hair and you cooed lightly, looking at Mattheo who was fast asleep against you. “ill double your pay,” The lord said, looking at you and you just nodded, you weren’t going to say no to that.

He stared at you for a long moment, then nodded, clearing his throat. “I’ll have the house elves bring you something to eat and drink, and inform you of his current routine.” With that he left, closing the nursery door behind him as you sighed, looking down at Mattheo-smiling softly.

It felt good to hold him again.

-end of Part 7-

thank you so much for waiting and reading~ yes, the angst only lasted one part but i didn't want to elongate it for no reason, so everything's okay again and Mattheo has his mama back, now for the slow burn half~ if i can, yay~

taglist!

The only respite was hearing his son’s laughter through the halls, he was walking now all on his own-the sound of his feet skittering across the floor almost made Voldemort abandon his desk to go see what his son was getting up to, only to hear (y/n) trailing after him, laughing and asking where the ‘little lord’ was going.

As of now, it was quiet, Mattheo was down for his mid-morning nap and (y/n) had plans to take him out for the afternoon, to the magi-zoo, socialization and regulation and all that, he’d approved of course, there being no reason he shouldn’t.

He glanced up as his office door was knocked on and he sighed, sitting back in his thankfully comfortable chair. “Enter,” he commanded and (y/n) slipped inside, smoothing down the skirt of her outfit.

“Good morning, sir, just wanted to remind you that I’m taking Mattheo to the magi-zoo this afternoon, do you need me for anything before we leave?” she asked, and Voldemort shook his head. “No, just make sure he doesn’t bring any live animals home.” He murmured and (y/n) let out a short laugh, nodding.

“Yes sir, we’ll be back before his afternoon nap, have a good morning.” (y/n) said, bowing out, and soon it was quiet in the manor, Mattheo and his nanny leaving for the magi-zoo. He had half a thought to join them but he was busy and had no time to take a break longer than 10 minutes.

He returned his attention to his frustrating boring paperwork for his ministry job, he couldn’t wait to quit it once he gained further power over the wizarding world, and dove in. he wasn’t sure how much time passed but when he snapped out of his intense focus-his stomach hurt from hunger and the sound of the nanny’s footsteps echoed just outside his office door.

He stood, making his way across his office and opening the door, spotting (y/n) cradling Mattheo, who was fighting sleep, his sweet brown eyes fluttering closed every other second, a large horned serpent plush in his small hands. “Good day?” Voldemort said, his voice raspy from underuse and (y/n) turned, her eyes catching his.

She nodded. “Very good, he really liked the reptile exhibit, there was a horned serpent he tried talking to for nearly an hour,” she murmured quietly, since Mattheo was moments from sleep. Voldemort nodded, pleased.

“Good.” he said and (y/n) waited for another moment to see if he had anything more to say before nodding back and heading to the nursery, laying Mattheo down for his nap-his new plush snake gripped tight in his arms, Nagini looking a bit jealous. “Don’t worry, you’re still his favorite serpent,” (y/n) chuckled down at Nagini as she hard-stared at the serpent plush.

Nagini hissed, slithering to curl under Mattheo’s crib.

-

You turned, stepping away from Mattheo’s crib, going to take a shower while you could and make dinner, pausing as you saw the lord in the doorway. “How was he today?” he asked, stepping back so you could leave the nursery.

“Good, as I said before, loved the reptile exhibit, thankfully only tried to run off once.” You said softly, with a short chuckle at the end. The lord hummed and nodded, his gaze returning to the crib.

“How is he otherwise, day to day?” he asked and you hummed, crossing your arms. “Good, really good. He’s walking all on his own, balancing really well, his magic is showing as well, and he’s speaking better. Nagini has gone from Nana to Nagi, which she seems to like better.” You said softly, Nagini hissing as if to confirm, making the lord smirk a bit-as he was able to understand her, and you relied on context clues to guess what she meant by each hiss.

The lord nodded, satisfied. “And he’s developing well?” He asked and you nodded. “Very well sir, I won't be surprised if he’s the most powerful and smartest wizard of his generation,” you said, pride in your voice and the lord was very pleased to hear that.

“Very good. As you were.” He said, turning on his heel, heading back to his office and you went to the dining room after casting a charm to keep an eye on the sleeping Mattheo.

-

It was Mattheo’s first birthday, a big milestone-the sweet son of the upcoming dark lord was turning one, and you had gone all out to make it special. Frosting coated your fingers as you carefully spun the cake on the elevated turntable. The cake was vanilla, the frosting a whipped cream style so it wasn’t too sweet or too thick, just right for the one-year-old to smash and eat to his hearts content and not suffer from a major sugar rush/crash.

Now Mattheo’s cake was a small two-tier cake, with simple silver and green color frosting with the letter ONE in frosting on the top, easy but cute for the birthday boy. You’d also made a second cake for you and the lord, he didn’t want to do a big party for Mattheo who wouldn’t even remember it, so you just made two cakes-one for Mattheo to smash and then one for you and the lord to eat, it was vanilla, also with whipped vanilla frosting.

Mattheo was in his highchair across the counter, watching your work with heavily intrigued eyes, completely focused on the cake and the piping bag as you worked on his cake. You smiled at him, putting a little bit of the frosting onto a spoon of his, giving it to him to taste, and it looked as if he tasted heaven; his eyes growing wide and he stared hard at the piping bag.

“Later, little lord, you’ll get a whole cakes worth of frosting to yourself soon.” You chuckled, catching the bowl of frosting as he narrowed his eyes at it, using his magic to drag it closer to him-crying when you stopped his plan. “no,” you said sternly yet softly, smirking as Mattheo pouted at you.

“I’m sorry little lord, but you’ll have to wait,” You whispered, leaning over to kiss his forehead and he made a noise-followed by ‘mama’. You sighed, with all you tried to do, Mattheo refused to call you anything BUT mama, thankfully not in front of his father yet, but when he needed you, Mama was the first thing out of his mouth. “No, ‘Nana’, I’m Nana,” you said softly, trying to get his attention-brushing his curls away from his forehead but Mattheo just reached towards the frosting.

“Mamaaaa,” He whined and you sighed, shaking your head, pushing the bowl away from him again, finishing up frosting the cakes and putting them in the fridge until they were ready to be eaten later that day. “Nana,” you said, trying to get him to repeat it, since he was calling Nagini ‘Nagi’ now, you wanted to get him to call you Nana instead.

“Mama,” Mattheo said, smacking his hands on his highchair table and you sighed again, shaking your head. Making him call you anything but mama was going to be impossible, you just had to hope he wouldn’t call you that in front of his father.

“Nana,” you said again anyway, scooping him up to take him back to the nursery.  “Mama,” Said Mattheo stubbornly, resting his head on your shoulder.

-

Mattheo eyed the flame of the candle with wide eyes, the lord pulling his wand away from it. “I think you sired a pyromaniac,” you muttered jokingly as you moved the cake around-Mattheo’s eyes locked onto the fire like he was a niffler and it was gold.

The lord snorted, smirking. “you say that as if it’s a bad thing,” he joked, and you let out an undignified snort that had the lord’s smirk growing. You set the cake back down-making sure Mattheo couldn’t grab the flame.

“Okay little lord, ready? Make a wish,” you said softly, bringing the cake close enough for him to blow out the single candle. Mattheo puffed his cheeks-and blew a raspberry at it, you blew at the same time-the flame going out. You clapped as you stood, Mattheo looking up at you and his father with pride, the lord smiling-softly.

You took the candle off the cake and pushed it close to Mattheo-who instantly began to destroy it, getting frosting and cake all over himself. “well, that’s why I made two,” you chuckled, slicing into the cake and handing a piece to the lord, who nodded in thanks and dug in, nodding to himself.

“This is good, not too sweet,” He murmured, and you nodded, stabbing into the soft vanilla cake. “That’s how I like them too, plus I didn’t want to give Mattheo a sugar crash.” You said, taking a bite and humming, it was good cake, a job well done.

It was a sweet silence for a moment, watching Mattheo destroy his cake while you and the lord ate your slices, then Mattheo said it-looking right up at you and smiling, hands up towards you. “Mama!” you froze-heart skipping a beat as the lord froze as well, then slowly looked at you, while Mattheo said ‘Mama’ again.

“Why did he call you that.” He asks, his voice the coldest you’d ever heard since becoming Mattheo’s nanny. You swallowed, setting down the now empty plate-the ceramic clacking on the counter.

“W-well, I am his primary caretaker, sir, and-i-I have attempted to redirect what he calls me, but he seems…firm in calling me that.” You stuttered out, not looking him in the eye. Mattheo’s face fell-able to sense the tension in the room-but unsure why.

“Mama,” Mattheo said, softly, reaching out towards you. you didn’t move.

“I see.” The lord muttered, setting down the plate, staring at Mattheo-who stared at you. “How soon can you move out of the manor.” He asked, coldly, and you closed your eyes, this was why you tried to make Mattheo call you by an appropriate name, you knew Mattheo having this deep of a connection to you would not be seen as ‘good’ in his fathers eyes.

You were just supposed to be the nanny, not his mother.

“Within the week sir, I’ll help look for replacements,” You whispered, and he nodded, not looking at you. he took his wand, charming Mattheo clean and picking him up.

“That will be appreciated,” he said, and then left-carrying Mattheo, who began to cry, reaching back towards you.

“Mama!”

You didn’t look, your heart throbbing painfully in your chest.

-

By Saturday, just under a week since Mattheo’s birthday, you had an apartment ready to go, your things all packed, and the new nanny hired-it was an older woman, more of a governess, a stern woman. Someone who wouldn’t flirt with the lord but still respect him, and someone who wouldn’t allow Mattheo to get too close-but still be comfortable with.

Mattheo hated it, screaming his head off as you passed him off to the new nanny, who took him with a calm expression.

“His favorite toy is the horned serpent plush he has in his crib and his favorite book is babbity rabbity, he hates peas and loves potatoes and carrots, the lord works from 6am till 5pm and does not like to be disturbed during those times unless it’s an emergency, otherwise let a house elf know to tell him whatever needs to be said.” You rattled off to the new nanny who nodded.

“Thank you miss,” She said, holding Mattheo against her hip, the poor boy reaching towards you, crying.

“Mama!!!” he sobbed, trying to grab you, but you stepped back, giving him a watery smile. “Goodbye Mattheo, be good to your father and your new nanny,” you whispered, grabbing your luggage, and leaving; Mattheo crying out for you the whole time-his cries echoing even after you disapparated.

You arrived at your apartment, slotting your keys into the door, stepping inside.

It was quiet…too quiet.

You sighed softly, closing the door behind you, locking it.

Time to look for a new job, thankfully, you had saved up a lot due to not really spending…anything while being Mattheo’s nanny, but if you didn’t want to squander it all-you had to start looking.

It was time to close that chapter and start anew.

-end of Part 6-

i regret nothing, yes this was the plan all along, yes it will get better, but for now! angst!

taglist!

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @death-be4-decaf

@lynbubble @chimchoom @lanalanalanasworld

@undecided-simp @a-little-funny @sterngvker

He mimicked your applause-clapping his hands together, and then plopped back down again-a determined look on his sweet face. Once he started something, he did it again and again till perfection, so much like his father. “Again? Boy, within the hour you’re gonna be a pro at standing up.” You chuckled, holding out your hands again as he made grabby hands at you-demanding your help.

“You’ll be walking in no time at all,” you chuckled softly, smiling as Mattheo stood up again, pushing his weight on your hands as he pulled himself up.

You looked to the left as the door open, snorting softly as Nagini, the lords faithful familiar, slumped into the room, having used her body to open the door. “Nana!” Mattheo said, his binkie dropping into your lap as he turned to look at Nagini, who slithered into the room towards Mattheo, the magical snake affectionately bumping her head against Mattheo’s cheek.

When you first started, Nagini had scared the life out of you-one morning just being under Mattheo’s crib and you had screamed. It took both the house elves and the lord to explain that Nagini wasn’t going to eat Mattheo, and that she was very intelligent and was the lords Familiar.

It still took you about a month to get comfortable with the giant snake. “Look at him, Nagini, pulling himself up all on his own, at this rate we’ll be trying to stop him from taking over the world,” you joked and Nagini let out a small hiss that had Mattheo giggling, his tiny hand reaching for her face and she gently bumped her nose into his palm-making him squeal with laughter again. “nana!” Mattheo said again, looking at you and pointing at Nagini, and you nodded, smiling.

“That’s right, that’s Nagini,” you said softly, encouraging him to keep speaking, he was only 10 months but he was hitting every milestone perfectly, and had already assigned easy names to everyone he saw frequently. Nagini was Nana, his father was dada, of course, and so far-he had yet to give you a name, half the time just making a very happy noise and making clear gestures towards you.

You smiled as Mattheo reached out, his little hands tracing the shape of your face and then he attempted to grab your hair. “Nope, no hair.” You said gently, pushing his hands away and holding them, looking down at your watch. “and it’s time for your appointment,” you murmured, scooping Mattheo up and putting him on your hip, packing up a day bag with his diapers and anything you’d need before heading out-passing by the lords office.

“I’ll be taking Mattheo to his ten-month check-up, do you need me to pick anything up while I’m out?” you asked the lord who only hummed, waving you off with a distracted wave of his hand. You nodded, heading down the hall to one of the sitting rooms-grabbing the floo powder. “Saint Mungo’s; pediatrics wing,” you said aloud and clearly, green flames quickly taking you to the pediatrics wing of the wizarding hospital.

You adjusted Mattheo on your hip, heading straight to the receptionist's desk, Mattheo’s sweet brown eyes locked onto the toys on the colorful carpet. “Hello, I’m here for Mattheo Riddle’s appointment at 10 am?” you told the receptionist, who checked you in and you went to go sit down, Mattheo in your lap as you waited to be called in.

Soon you were called in and carried Mattheo into the room, setting him down on the medical bed, holding his back to help him stay still as you waited for the doctor-who soon arrived after that, this doctor wasn’t Mattheo’s usual one, but she quickly informed you that Mattheo’s usual pediatrician was on vacation and would be back by the next appointment. “I’m doctor Amy Stein, and you must be Mattheo’s mother?” Amy asked, holding out her hand in greeting and you took it, but shook your head.

“No, i'm his nanny,” you said with a soft chuckle and Amy nodded, getting right to work on Mattheo’s 10-month check-up. Doctor Amy went through the usual check list, his gross motor skills, fine motor skills, language development, and his social development. “Do you have any pictures of who he has names for?” Doctor Amy asked and you nodded, taking out a picture of his father and Nagini. Amy blinked in shock at the snake but didn’t ask questions, holding them up to Mattheo.

“Who is this?” she asked, pointing to the picture of his father. Mattheo smiled-reaching up with his little hands. “Dada!” Mattheo cooed, Amy smiled and nodded, pointing to Nagini. “Perfect, and who is this?” “Nana!” Mattheo said, clapping his hands, Amy looked to you for confirmation and you nodded.

“Very good, and who is this?” she asked, pointing at you and Mattheo made a happy squealing noise, making Amy raise her brow. You let out a soft chuckle.

“He doesn’t really know what to call me, we don’t really use the words ‘mama’ in the house, since his mother isn’t in the picture, hence, me. And I never really tried to make him call me anything.” You said with a shrug, and Amy slowly nodded, the two of you looking at Mattheo as he suddenly said; “Mama!” He squealed, reaching towards you, and you blanched.

Uh-oh.

“No no, not mama, nanny,” you said, quickly trying to divert his new name for you. You weren’t mama, you were his nanny, and it had to stay that way. Mattheo just squealed again, reaching towards you as you got closer.

“Mama!” He said again, laughing, making you wince, your jaw clenched.

“He picked up that name quick if that was his first time hearing it,” Amy murmured, and you sighed, nodding in confirmation.

“I've never even said it in front of him before,” you said, dropping your head between your shoulders as Mattheo clapped and giggled, grabbing your hair to get your attention. He continued to babble ‘mama’ again and again while Amy finished the check-up, giving him necessary vaccines and testing his motor functions.

“There we go, all done,” Doctor Amy said, tossing out the needles used for the vaccines, putting a band-aid on Mattheo’s pudgy leg, who was pouting from the pain, whimpering. “I’m sorry sweet boy, you’re going home now,” Amy cooed and you scooped Mattheo up as he began to hiccup, clinging to you like a little koala.

“C’mon little lord,” you murmured, wincing again as he babbled out ‘mama’ again. You had to get that corrected quickly, you didn’t even what to know what the lord would do if he heard Mattheo calling you that, you were just the nanny, nothing more.

You returned home, Mattheo getting fussy as his leg got sore and developed a small fever from his vaccine shots. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay little lord,” you murmured, gently rocking Mattheo as he cried, not happy at all with his leg sore and the heat in his body. You grabbed a cloth and charmed it with a heating charm, gently pressing it to Mattheo’s thigh and he calmed slightly, hiccupping as he looked up at you. “See? All better,” you said softly, still rocking Mattheo back and forth.

“Mama,” he hiccupped, reaching up towards you and you sighed, closing your eyes, shaking your head. “Not mama, nanny,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Mattheo didn’t understand, of course he didn’t-for all he knew, you were his mother, the woman who was raising him and loving him as her own.

-

Even with the warm cloth and gently rocking him, Mattheo took a long time to settle down, crying for nearly the whole afternoon, thankfully still eating-but struggling to calm down, you knew why he was crying, his leg must’ve been so sore from the shots.

“Is everything okay? He’s been crying for nearly the whole day?” You jolted a bit as you heard the lord's voice from behind you, and there he was, in the doorway-watching Mattheo with sharp eyes as he continued to cry.

“He had his check up today, got a few shots, his legs sore and he’s having a hard time calming down,” you said softly, bouncing Mattheo gently as he hiccupped and sobbed. The lord hummed, his brow furrowing.

“Perhaps a warm bath?” he asked and you slowly nodded. Not a terrible idea, “See to it then,” the lord murmured, leaving the room, and you went straight into the bathroom attached to your room, drawing a warm bath for Mattheo-just deep enough for his sore leg to be submerged.

It helped quite a lot and soon you were laying Mattheo down for his nap-after so many hours of him fighting it due to his sore leg. “there you go little lord, all better,” you murmured, taking a seat in the rocking chair, not wanting to clean up in case it woke him back up, finding a book to read in the mean time.

Now to figure out how to get Mattheo to stop calling you mama.

-end of part 5-

taglist! thank you all for reading and waiting! please comment/give me any ideas you might have for cute in-between scenes for Mattheo and (y/n)! :D

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @death-be4-decaf

@lynbubble @chimchoom @lanalanalanasworld

@undecided-simp @a-little-funny @sterngvker

The lord let out a low hum, eyes locked onto his sick son. “I got sick a lot as a kid,” he suddenly mentioned, his grip tight on his sleeves-his arms crossed. “That normal?”

“Back then, yeah, living conditions weren’t the best. But it’s also cold season right now and babies have lower immune systems, but he has a clean house and is well taken care of, he won’t get sick constantly.” You answered, rambling still-only half listening, giving Mattheo his medicine, he whined about it but swallowed-soon falling asleep. “There we go,” you murmured, setting the sweet boy down into his crib. “sleep will help,”

The lord slowly nodded, his gaze locked onto Mattheo. “he’ll be okay?” he asked, sternly, looking at you now. You nodded, casting a detection charm so you could go clean up without hovering over Mattheo.

“After some rest, and time; he’ll be just fine, let him sleep.” You said in a hushed tone, the lord leaving the room ahead of you, glancing over his shoulder back at the crib.  “he’ll be okay,” you whispered one more time, smiling softly. He stared at you for a very long moment before nodding, leaving the nursery.

“Notify me of any changes,” The lord ordered and you nodded, watching him walk down the hall before getting back to work, sanitizing Mattheo’s room and washing his clothes, sheets, bedding, and toys-making sure none of the germs that got him sick were lingering

-

“Poor thing, just cant get comfortable can you?” you murmured, gently bouncing the still sick Mattheo as he cried softly in your arms, his fever was running pretty hot right now, making it difficult for the little lord to sleep, or even want to eat-making him uncomfortable and hungry-the worst combo for any baby.

“Is something wrong?” you turned, seeing the lord in the doorway of the nursery, half dressed for bed, his usual robes gone-wearing a dark black shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, his feet bare against the floor.

“He can't get to sleep, too hot,” you said softly, turning to him, Mattheo still crying, clutching tightly to your sleep shirt. The lord frowned, stepping closer, he reached out towards Mattheo-his cold hands connecting with Mattheo’s face and Mattheo stopped crying for a moment, a clear sense of relief falling over him. You smiled softly, transferring Mattheo over to his father-who sputtered. “You’re cold, he likes that,” you said softly and the lord swallowed, taking Mattheo and holding him close-his natural low body temperature providing comfort for his son, who soon was able to fall asleep finally.

“There we go,” you whispered, taking your wand, casting some cooling charms on Mattheo’s bedding-wanting him to be comfortable but still be able to sweat out the rest of his cold. You turned, ready to put Mattheo to bed but the lord was still holding him close, having moved to sit in a nearby rocking chair, watching his son with soft eyes.

You smiled, nodding back towards your room that was connected to the nursery. “I’ll be in my room if you need me sir, goodnight,” you whispered and he waved you off with a simple nod, his thumb brushing over Mattheo’s flushed cheek.

He watched his son sleep in his arms. The little thing was a perfect carbon copy of him, from his dark hair to his eyes, to the small beauty marks on Mattheo’s cheeks and chin. “a perfect heir,” Voldemort whispered, brushing his fingers against Mattheo’s chin-the 5 month old curling up further against his father, who couldn’t help but smile a bit, making sure he was comfortable in his arm, the idea of putting Mattheo in his crib to sleep drifting away for a short while.

-

Mattheo was taking a nap-having used up his morning burst of energy babbling and throwing toys around, leaving you to do chores to keep the space both you and Mattheo used clean. You passed by the lords office, the door cracked open, just barely spotting him bent over his desk, hand buried in his hair, looking quite frustrated and exhausted.

You paused for a moment, biting your lip before moving on quickly, heading into the kitchen. You prepared Mattheo’s cereal snacks, the boy now eating solids more often, and then, after a moment of hesitation, made a cup of tea for the lord. You remembered he liked milk and sugar in his tea, from your days at Hogwarts-just one of the things you noticed from the corner of your eye.

You grabbed the small plastic cup with Mattheo’s snacks and the cup of tea, walking up the stairs and down the hall-pausing at the lords office, where he was still pouring himself over several stacks of papers; what for you didn’t know, but he looked like he needed a pick me up. You knocked softly to alert him of your presence and he just muttered, waving his hand-assuming you were a house elf. “just put it on my desk,” he muttered.

You stepped inside, setting the tea gently in a free space that was out of the way but within reach, leaving the room quietly.

Voldemort reached for the cup of tea, taking a sip without bothering to look at it-then pausing, swallowing slowly. It was…really good. He looked at the tea, recognizing the milky color to it, his house elves never put the milk and sugar in on their own-he always did it himself. He glanced up, seeing the tail end of your heel as you left his office, closing the door behind you.

He blinked, letting out a small huff, taking another sip-savoring it this time and taking a slow breath. Just what he needed.

-

“Aaaaand off he goes,” you muttered fondly as Mattheo, now 7 months old, army crawls off to another spot in his room. By this point, you’d baby proofed anything that Mattheo could reach-sticking charms  worked wonders over the muggle contraptions that Mattheo somehow knew to open with a firm tug.

“Come back here you little bug,” you chuckled, setting down a pair of clean baby overalls, walking over to the boy who was already in front of the cracked open door that led out into the hall-scooping him up, smiling as he let out a happy squeal.

You glance up at the same time a figure passes by the door-too short to be the lord, too tall to be a house elf. You blink-you didn’t know Voldemort was expecting anyone today. You open the door to the nursery, looking down the hallway. There are several figures, all cloaked in black, heading down the hall towards the dining room that the lord used as a meeting room.

You back into the nursery, closing the door. “let’s stay in here for a little bit,” you said softly to Mattheo, setting the growing boy back on the ground-the hard wood floors of his room covered with soft rugs and blankets so he didn’t hurt his hands and knees from crawling.

Mattheo made a sweet silly sound, crawling off to another corner as you returned to folding his clothes and putting them away. After a few minutes you heard the door open and quickly turned-blinking rapidly as Mattheo crawled out the room.

You stood stunned for a few moments before rushing after him-easily catching up. “Now, hooow?” you scooped up Mattheo, who giggled and squealed. “did you do that little lord?”  Somehow Mattheo had opened the door all on his own-must’ve been his magic, even at only 7 months old he was showing strong signs of magic and when Mattheo really wanted something, his magic poured out for him.

You let out a sigh as Mattheo babbled, his eyes down the hall. You knew what he wanted, to go see his father. “not now little lord, your fathers busy,” you said softly, stepping back into the nursery, waving your wand to finish the laundry and grabbing a book to entertain Mattheo, sitting down in the rocking chair next to his crib and resting him in your lap-cracking open the picture book. “Okay, time for babbity rabbity,” you murmured as Mattheo curled up against you, eyes on the book-hand clutching your shirt, binkie in mouth.

…

Your eyes fluttered as a weight you’d gotten far too familiar with lifted from your chest and you jolted up-eyes going wide, wand quickly drawn. “It’s just me,” the lords quiet voice rasped from above you, holding the still sleeping Mattheo to his chest. It was dark in the room, only the light from the soft ceiling string lights illuminating it.

“I fell asleep-I’m so sorry,” you breathed out, quickly standing. He just shook his head, turning to lay Mattheo down, tucking the soft blanket around him. “You don’t have to…” You murmured but again, the lord shook his head.

“I’m his father, and while you are his nanny, i…don’t mind doing my job as well,” the lord murmured, the two of you staring at each other for a short minute before you looked away. “Get some sleep,” he ordered, stepping away from the crib. “You need it, you can have tomorrow off,”

You furrowed your brows, about to argue-you and the lord still hadn’t found anyone that could take care of Mattheo in your absence but he just held his hand up to silence you. “I’ll watch over him, I don’t mind, I have nothing to do tomorrow anyway.” He said, his voice softer than the mobile that was charmed to make music as it slowly rotated above Mattheo’s head.

You sighed and nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thanks,” you whispered, and he nodded, stepping aside to allow you a straight path to your connected room. “Goodnight sir,”

“Goodnight, (y/n).” he murmured back, the door closing behind you-his gaze returning to Mattheo, who was still asleep-looking content, his little fists up near his face-a soft green blanket tucked around him.

He smiled softly, casting a detection charm and returning to his room.

-end of p4-

Taglist! omg already so many of you! i did want this to be like-a LONG slow burn but i have NO clue how to really write those because im awful at writing inbetweens without it being boring to me, so no romance yet-just planting seeds rn :D

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @death-be4-decaf

@lynbubble @chimchoom @lanalanalanasworld

@undecided-simp @a-little-funny @sterngvker

You sighed softly as Mattheo kept staring at you, looking at the clock-just about time for dinner. “Okay bud, let's go get you fed.” You murmured, turning on your heel to get his bottle. Mattheo rested his head on your shoulder as you worked, watching intently with his fist in his mouth while you fixed up a bottle and then capped it.

“There we go,” you mumbled softly, positioning him correctly and giving him the bottle-Mattheo quite happy to be fed, and he settled quickly, nearly falling asleep as he ate.

“Why does he make a fuss every time you attempt to leave him with another?” you jolted as you heard the lord's voice from behind-turning to see him lingering in the doorway of the nursery. You cleared your throat, looking back at Mattheo, who was very content now, his eyelids slowly lowering as he ate.

“I suppose babies can be picky with their people, I’m the longest nanny he’s had, correct?” you said, half asking the lord even though you knew you were right. He nodded, staring at you intently. “It makes sense he’s a bit, attached then, as I’m the person who's stuck around him the longest. Babies will usually cling to something or someone constant, familiar. It’s not irregular for them to pick someone above the rest.” You explained and the lord slowly nodded, his eyes flickering between you and his son.

“Perhaps it would be helpful for those who take care of him on your days off to visit more often,” The lord drawled slowly, not a terrible suggestion but for some reason it made you…feel possessive of the sweet boy in your arms, whose eyes had fluttered closed by now, finished eating his meal.

“I suppose that would be helpful for my days off, so he’s not fighting the temps,” you murmured softly, adjusting Mattheo so he was against your shoulder, his head heavy against your neck as you set the bottle down and tapped your wand on it, letting it clean itself.

The lord hummed, his eyes on you again before he slowly nodded. “I’ll see to it they’re here more frequently, possibly allow you more days off as well-weekends maybe.” The lord muttered before he turned on his heel-his cloak billowing behind him as he went back to his office just down the hallway.

You sighed softly, pushing your tongue into your cheek.

Mattheo was gonna hate this.

-

Mattheo did indeed hate that the temp nannies that usually only came in every other Tuesday were now coming every few days-he hated it hated it. Almost as soon as he saw them, he’d start crying and cling to your shirt, his sweet face turning red as he protested about anyone other than his favorite person taking care of him.

“Kid, please,” you groaned lowly, trying to get him to let go of your hair but he was holding tightly-screaming his head off as one of the temp nannies tried to gently pry him from you. “this isn’t gonna work,” you said with a groan and the nanny agreed with a wince, allowing Mattheo to cling back onto you and his cries went quiet, save for a few sniffles and hiccups.

“What is all this noise?” The lord drawled, his face set into a stern glare as he entered the nursery.

“The young lord hates us, my lord,” The two nannies who’d been training to take care of Mattheo more often bowed their heads. “he cries every time we attempt to take him from Ms. (y/n).” he turned to you, raising his brow and you nodded with a tired sigh, Mattheo clinging tight to your shirt and hair-refusing to let go.

The lord furrowed his brow, stepping forward, his day cloak flowing behind him. He reached out and you allowed him to take his son. Mattheo tried to hold onto your hair; but the lord, gently, pried the baby's fist free from your hair. Mattheo frowned up at his father but didn’t scream, unhappy being taken from his favorite person but accepting his fathers hold.

The lord turned, handing Mattheo to one of the temp nannies and he instantly began screaming. The lord frowned, bringing Mattheo back to him, and then attempted to hand him to the other nanny. Mattheo cried again.

“How odd.” The lord murmured, his eyes sparking with curiosity, intrigue. He turned again, handing Mattheo back to you and the baby boy instantly began to snuggle up to you, happiest in your arms. “You two are dismissed for the day. Return tomorrow,” The lord ordered and the two temp nannies nodded and bowed out, leaving you and the lord alone with Mattheo.

“He is curiously attached to you, he didn’t even like his first nanny this much.” The lord murmured, sitting down in the rocking chair next to the crib, his scarlet-brown eyes locked onto Mattheo, who was snug in your arms.

You shrugged, almost helplessly. “I really don’t know why, I mean-kids, especially babies, do tend to latch onto a particular person, especially someone they see the most. But usually those his age don’t have such a…strong reaction.” You murmured, looking down at Mattheo, who was staring right back. He gave a gummy smile-and cooed-his little hand gripping your hair again.

The lord watched the interaction intently, his eyes narrowing in thought. He didn’t speak, leaving you unsure of what he was thinking, he was just…watching you and Mattheo-who was now trying to eat your hair. “oh no,” you murmured, gently prying it out of his slobbery grip and mouth. “hair isn’t for eating little lord.”

The lord stood. “You’ll take the week off, a paid vacation, Mattheo will learn to deal with the other nannies taking care of him.” He said and honestly you couldn’t argue, Mattheo did need to learn that he couldn’t get his way by throwing a tantrum whenever you weren’t the one taking care of him. It was unfair to you and the spare nannies.

“Yes sir,” you said with a nod, looking down at Mattheo-who had no idea what was coming up for him. He was going to hate it. “When would you like me to start?”

“Saturday, you’ll return the next, and resume caring for my son on Sunday.” The lord said and you nodded, bowing to him as he left the nursery.

That left enough time to plan a vacation, maybe you’d visit your parents, or siblings, or perhaps enjoy the countryside. In the meantime, you still had a job to do.

-

Mattheo was already screaming his little head off when you handed him off to the first spare nanny of the week, she winced as she took him-listening to him scream. “Have a good week miss,” The nanny, Sarah, said with a strained smile-you gave her one back, wishing her luck for the two days of her shift, Mary would be the next one and then Emmalie.

“You too, good luck with him.” You said, grabbing your trunk, reaching out to gently take Mattheo’s chubby hand as he reached towards you, crocodile tears running down his pudgy cheeks. “you be good little lord, the quicker you stop fighting this the sooner I can come back,” you said but being only 4ish months old, Mattheo didn’t understand and tried to transfer himself back to you. you smiled softly and stepped back before he could; leaving the property and apparating to the hotel you had gotten for your vacation.

You checked in and went to your room, setting your luggage on the large bed, looking around and nodding. Yes, this would do quite nicely.

-

 Your week was spent eating out at cozy restaurants, enjoying the room service the hotel provided, swimming in the hotel pool, sleeping in every morning and staying up late every night, not having to worry about taking care of anyone else but yourself, and being paid for it!

But all vacations had to come to an end, so Saturday you checked out of the hotel and went straight back to the manor, quietly stepping inside-not announcing your presence so Mattheo didn’t start screaming, just in case.

“Nanny (y/n) you are backs,” the head house elf, Minnie, said, looking up at you with her big grey/brown eyes as she popped in front of you. You nodded, thanking the house elf as she took your luggage.

“I am, how’s the house been?” you asked and Minnie grimaced, hiding the expression quickly. You winced. “That bad?”

“The young masters has been…fightings the other nannies, and the master has been temperamental’s. Mattheo’s will be’s happy to see you’s nanny (y/n).” Minnie said and you sighed, running your hand over your neck, heading straight for the nursery. You weren’t supposed to get back to work till tomorrow but Mattheo was probably on a hunger strike right now.

Only 4 months old and already protesting.

You opened the door and instantly you were met by crying from Mattheo, an exhausted and exasperated nanny trying to hush the baby boy. “Please young master, your father will be extremely upset if he hears you again!” the nanny, Emmalie, said, trying to soothe Mattheo who looked upset in more than one way.

You sighed, stepping forward, arms out. “Hand him over Emmalie,” you murmured and she sagged with relief as she turned-quickly transferring Mattheo to your arms and he continued to cry for a few seconds, then opened his eyes-seeing you, and buried his face in your upper chest, crying more. “…I’m never going to get another vacation, am i?” you sighed and Emmalie gave a weary smile.

She gave you the run-down of what happened and Mattheo, through the whole week, had refused to settle, and half the time refused to eat, to the point where the lord kept having to get involved because he was the only other one Mattheo would listen to-the nannies had run themselves dry trying to calm the young lord.

Yet now, he was calming, still crying but calming down-clinging to you like you were his lifeline. “Has he eaten today?” you asked-furrowing your brows as Emmalie shook her head. “Okay, I’ll feed him, you go report to the lord and go home, you look like you need a nap.” You said softly, and Emmalie didn’t even bother to argue, heading straight off to go see the lord.

You sighed, looking down at Mattheo-he was a mess, snot and tears staining his face, looking very hungry and upset. “Let’s get you fed little lord.” You murmured, kissing his forehead and getting to work.

After a while, you and Mattheo were graced with the presence of the lord, who stepped into the nursery with a look of confusion and a bit of concern, then he relaxed seeing you holding Mattheo-who was falling asleep after eating and getting bathed and fed. “ah, that’s why the wailing stopped.” The lord drawled, crossing his arms as you let out a soft huff of amusement, settling Mattheo into his crib.

“Yes, I apologize that he’s been so…rough while I was gone,” you said with a bow of your head and the lord let out a low sigh, looking tired. “It is not your fault, I underestimated how…attached he is.” He muttered, stepping closer to the crib to look down at Mattheo beside you. you slowly nodded, your hands resting on the edge of the crib, watching Mattheo fall asleep. “did you enjoy your week off?”

The lord suddenly asked and you nodded. “I did, very much sir, thank you.” you said softly and the lord nodded, stepping back.

“Good. We’ll have to figure out another solution to this problem, it doesn’t bode well that he refuses to let anyone but you and I care for him.” You slowly nodded, agreeing. “In the meantime, you’ll be his sole caretaker, until I can find someone he accepts.” The lord said, staring down at Mattheo again before stepping back. “You’ll help me interview, starting next week. Goodnight, (y/n).” The lord said and you returned his words, watching him leave the nursery before looking back down at Mattheo.

“You better behave little lord, I’m your nanny, not your mom.” You whispered, brushing your finger over his chubby cheek. Though deep down, you denied the wish that he was yours.

-end of p3-

taglist! sorry for taking so long!

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @death-be4-decaf

@lynbubble @chimchoom @lanalanalanasworld

Currently, Mattheo was taking his 100th nap of the day as you cleaned up around his nursery, picking up the toys from the floor and changing out the trash bag from the diaper trash along with tossing his dirty clothes into the laundry shoot that was just above the main dresser with all his clothes and diapers.

You wiped your hands on your skirt and turned as you heard a noise from the crib and walked over, smiling softly as you looked down at the baby boy moving around a bit, making noises as you scooped him out of the crib, his eyes peeling open as he whined a bit.

“Good afternoon little one, ready for dinner?” you asked Mattheo-not expecting a response as he stared at you, a nice spit bubble forming on his lips which you popped and wiped away with a spit rag you kept on your shoulder. As if on cue, the clock chimed for 4 pm, his dinner time, and Mattheo began showing signs of being hungry as you began to make his bottle.

“Hang on, hang on,” you said softly, tapping the bottle with your wand and then grabbing another rag as the bottle of formula began to make itself, and you tested it on your wrist before sitting down and twisting Mattheo around to rest in the crook of your arm, giving him the bottle as he began to fuss-grabbing onto the bottle with greedy little hands, his deep brown eyes staring up at you intensely.

You stared back with a small chuckle, rocking a bit in the chair you were sitting in as he ate his dinner. “Something tells me you’re going to be a bit of a troublemaker when you grow up.” You muttered quietly to the three-week-old baby, not because he was being easy now, but because his eyes had a sort of…chaos to them, you couldn’t tell why-but they did.

After Mattheo finished eating you burped him, thankfully he didn’t spit up, and then changed him after the food went right through him, as was the life of babies his age.

After that, you took Mattheo and a bouncy seat for him to lay in and went into the kitchen to make something for dinner, as while you didn’t mind the house elves making dinner for you-nothing beat dinner made by hand.

And as if right on cue, the lord of the manor came walking down the hall, noticing you taking Mattheo into the kitchen and setting him in the bouncy seat on the floor, keeping him in eyesight as you went about making dinner.

“I trust things are going well?” He suddenly asked and you nearly jumped out of your skin at his voice that you weren’t expecting, putting your hand to your chest and taking a deep breath-missing the small smirk at the corner of his lip at accidentally scaring you.

“Sorry-yes-it’s going well, he just ate dinner and I’m making mine-then he’ll be going to bed right after a bath.” You said to the lord, and he nodded, gazing at Mattheo for a long moment, who was just staring at you with a binkie in his mouth.

He then nodded again, looking back at you-his gaze even and blank. “I’ll leave you to it then,” And with that he was gone, probably heading back to his office.

You took a deep breath and wrung your hand across the back of your neck, looking down at Mattheo who was still staring at you. “This is gonna be interesting,” you muttered to yourself, turning back to the stove to continue making your dinner.

Mattheo proceeded to audibly make a mess in his diaper.

“…Thanks bud.”

-

Soon enough Mattheo was a month old, and you made yourself busy taking care of him as he developed and grew, going to one of many wizarding markets to buy new clothes for the growing boy, bringing him along with you in a stroller.

And currently, the month-old Mattheo had his eyes locked onto a snake toy that sat in a window across the market street of a toy store, and you know you couldn’t deny him the toy-so you made the quick trip inside the store with Mattheo on your hip, buying the toy and handing it to him, smiling as he wrapped both arms around it and let his binkie fall out to mouth at it.

“Does it meet your liking young master?” you said with a grin as Mattheo happily mouthed at his new toy, continuing to do so as you laid him back down in the stroller bed.

He was a really cute kid, you had to admit.

“Awe how adorable, how old is he?” you looked up to see some elderly witches cooing down at Mattheo, the one dressed in violet looking back up at you.

“He’s one month old as of yesterday,” you said with a grin and the witches all cooed again. One asked if he was yours and you shook your head, still smiling. “No, I'm just his nanny, but thank you.” You said politely, the witches thankfully not reacting much to that, grabbing the stroller handle again and making way for the main grocery market, needing some things for your meals for the next week.

As you grabbed some tomatoes and parsley, you heard a familiar voice coming from your right and then you were wrapped up in a hug, letting out a strong short laugh as you were lifted off your feet by your friend Desiree, one of your childhood friends from Hogwarts.

“Gooood afternoon lovely~” Desiree sang, swinging your hands back and forth as she beamed at you. You rolled your eyes fondly and pulled her into a strong side hug.

“Afternoon Desi, good to see you,” you said with a grin, and she pinched your cheek, cooing as she noticed the brown eyes staring at her now, almost looking offended that she had stolen your attention from him. “And who is this?? Hi, cutie~”

“This is Mattheo, I’ve been his nanny for two weeks now,” you said, slightly prideful of your role. Desi cooed again, wiggling her fingers at him and he grabbed her finger, not letting go as she laughed. “He’s Tom Riddle’s son.” At this Desi gasped, looking up at you.

“The Tom Riddle? As in heartthrob of Hogwarts Tom Riddle?” you nodded at her…colorful description of Tom, who you referred to as ‘lord’ or ‘sir’, considering he was your boss, and he didn’t go by Tom Riddle as much anymore.

“Yep.” You said at her disbelieving expression as if she couldn’t believe Tom had a kid. “From what I know, from the gossiping house elves at his manor-which I live in-he got together with someone just for the sake of having an heir, and that’s Mattheo. I got hired as his nanny when he was two weeks old, apparently, the nanny before me tried to make a move on Tom, and he…did not respond well.” You said and Desi hung on to every word, grasping your wrist tightly.

“Well, I’m not surprised, every girl at school wanted to jump his bones, I can only imagine how he looks now,” Desi said with a huff, walking with you as you continued to shop, Mattheo still staring at her-his brow furrowed a bit. When Desi looked at you for confirmation, you only closed your eyes and made a very ‘damn.fucking.fine’ gesture with your hand and she laughed, making Mattheo frown at her more which made you giggle a bit-which somehow made Mattheo frown ease up.

“I think he likes you,” Desi commented on Mattheo’s behavior, and you shrugged. “He’s supposed to; I’m his nanny. You, however, are the loud random woman stealing my attention,” you said with a snort, and Desi just grinned.

Desi continued to follow you and Mattheo around as you shopped for the week, chattering away as you nodded along, and eventually, you began chattering as she nodded-it had always been like that between the two of you, one would talk and the other would listen.

“Bye cutie~,” Desi sang to Mattheo as you prepared to head back to the manor and he just stared at her, suckling on his binkie. Desi laughed and gave you one last hug before she went off to do her own thing.

It was a bit of a chore to get Mattheo, all the groceries, and his stroller into the house before you remembered you had magic and with a wave of your wand-everything floated inside and the kitchen items put themselves away as you carried Mattheo up the stairs, the one-month-old squirming a bit in your arms-since it was time for him to eat.

“Okay okay, one-second little one,” you murmured softly, getting his bottle ready as you held him on your hip, one of his little fists holding your shirt as the other held the snake stuffie. After checking the temperature of the milk, you took the binkie from his mouth and he happily attached to the bottle, staring up at you as you rocked him a bit as he fed.

As he ate-you thought back on the last two weeks of being Mattheo’s nanny.

It had been quite easy, you cleaned up when Mattheo took naps, fed him, changed him, bathed him, made your own food, made sure things were clean in the space you occupied, and stayed out of the lord’s way.

So easy you had to wonder if things would get difficult at some point.

They probably would, but you would deal with that once it came to that point, for now, you would happily look after Mattheo who thankfully had taken a shine to you.

-

“Well…you’re gonna be a handful,” you muttered as you walked in from your connected room into the nursery, seeing Mattheo still lying in his crib, with several objects floating above him, his little face scrunched in little baby concentration as the snake plush dropped into his arms and he instantly wrapped his arms around it; the other toys also dropping to the floor-almost making a loud noise if it wasn’t for your quick thinking and spell casting-preventing the crash of the toys.

You sighed softly, rubbing your head, putting the toys back where they belonged with a wave of your wand, going over to the crib and leaning over it, looking down at Mattheo who looked oh so innocently back up at you, his brown eyes like the dawn in the morning sun.

“You, are going to be a troublemaker, aren’t you?” you sighed with a soft grin, chuckling as Mattheo lifted one of his little hands at you and you scooped him up, taking the snake plush with him, and getting him ready for the morning, changing him, feeding him, changing him again, and then taking him to the backyard for some fresh air.

-end of part 2-

look wow! part two in less than a month!!! taglist!

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @death-be4-decaf

-

“And what would be the living arrangements? And payment?” you had said to the phone, twirling your wand between your fingers as you looked down at your notepad filled with the information about the potential job.

“you’d be living at the manor in a guest bedroom with a full bath, food and toiletries included in pay, salary is six hundred galleons a year.” The woman on the other side of the call replied.

You dropped your wand, eyes going wide-well who in their right mind would pass that up!? Unless this was a scam.

“That sounds….wonderful-erm, may I ask who I'd be working for if I took the job?” you asked, looking at the address that you had written down on the notepad.

“The hire information here says the father of the child is one, Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

The phone slipped out of your hands.

-

After agreeing to an interview, you grabbed your resume and reference numbers, put on a modest pencil skirt with a flowing white blouse, finishing it up with a snake necklace, the chain hidden under the collar. Slipping your wand into your skirt pocket you took a deep breath and disapparated to the apparition point just a few feet away from the gates of the manor.

“Woah,”  you muttered, looking across the impressive manor, the gates were black iron with the symbol of a snake decorating the center of the double iron gates-the gardens were massive, along with the manor itself-it looked like a bloody castle, with beautiful white stone walls and blue roofing.

Honestly, did you even need to interview? You should’ve just said ‘yes please’ to the hire inquiry call.

But still, it was proper to have an interview with the parent of the child you might be caring for before starting a job.

You looked down as a house elf appeared behind the gates, looking up at you with big eyes. “What is you heres for?” the house elf asked.

“I’m here to interview for the live-in nanny position?” you said softly, and the elf nodded, snapping their fingers and the gates opened inward, allowing you into the grounds. You nodded in thanks to the little elf, and she nodded, popping away as you made your way up the gravel path, admiring the pristine manor as you walked up to the main doors, knocking on the large mahogany doors.

After a few moments, they opened, another house elf escorting you inside and leading you upstairs to the office. “Master, the live-in nanny interviewee is here.” the house elf said, and the door unlocked and swung open on its own. I took a deep breath, stepping through the opened door, and closing it behind me, looking at the familiar pair of eyes as the chair behind the desk swung around, revealing Tom Riddle himself, a boy I had known in school.

Or as he was better known now-adays, Voldemort.

“Sit,” Tom-Voldemort said, gesturing to the plush black leather seat in front of his desk and you obeyed, flattening your skirt under you as you sat down and crossed your legs at the ankles. “So Ms…” his eyes flickered up to you and you finished his clear inquiry.

“(y/n), (y/n) (l/n),” You answered softly yet confidently, and a flicker of recognition flashed in his reddish-brown eyes. He nodded, holding out his hand and you handed him your file that had your necessary personal information, resume, and references from past childcare jobs.

He flipped open the file and read every paper within, resting his head on his hand. You sat there in the chair across from him, hands laid in your lap nervously, your heart racing in your chest. “Quite the impressive work history,” To-Voldemort muttered, lacing his fingers, and gazing at you as he rested his elbows on his desk. You nodded in response, unsure of what to say.

He looked back down at the paperwork and flipped through it again. “I assume you’ve worked with magical children regularly?” he asked, and you nodded again. “Yes…sir,” you said slowly, unsure of what to call him but settling on the professional moniker. “Wizarding children are my main client base.” Voldemort nodded, humming a bit-low in his throat before looking back up at you again.

“And what is the youngest you have worked with?” He asked and you quickly thought back.

“The youngest would be newborn, working with postpartum mothers and such,” He nodded again, looking…pleased so far, at least you thought he did, his expression was quite blank, which wasn’t new, he’d always been very…calm since you had first seen him at 11 years old.

“Have you dealt with any…difficult children so far?” He asked, threading his fingers together, gazing at you just over his steepled fingers. You thought back to your past clients and remembered a few difficult ones, though half the time they were only difficult thanks to their parents letting them get away with whatever.

“A few, though their behavior never lasted long, I’ve found I have a knack for getting…difficult children to follow my rules.” You said confidently, saying one thing but meaning another. The way you usually got difficult kids to calm down and listen was to gain their trust; because half the time the reason for them acting out was because they weren't getting the attention they needed, and you provided that attention.

To-Voldemort nodded, looking pleased. “Very good.”

The interview went on for another hour before you were dismissed, and he told you he’d owl you within the week. You sighed as you apparated back home and took a nice long bath.

The very next day, you got a letter by owl, you had barely woken up and were drinking some coffee, blearily looking down at the elegant scrawl of your name on the front of the letter. You grabbed your letter opener and slicked open the top, drawing the letter out and sitting down to read.

‘Dear Ms. (y/n), after careful consideration and several other interviews, I have decided you are the best fit for my son and his needs. When is the earliest you can start and move in?

Regards- L.V.’

Well…that settled it then.

You grabbed a paper and an envelope and quickly wrote a letter back.

‘Dear L.V, I happily accept the offer, and I can start this upcoming Monday the 12th, I can move in sooner than that.

Thank you, (F.L)’

You sealed the envelope with the letter inside and sent the owl back to its master, and four days later, your apartment was all packed up-thank merlin for extension charms and shrinking charms-and you were moving into the manor.

Your room was…wow, like wow wow. Tall ceilings, a balcony, a king-sized bed with fancy comfortable sheets, a walk-in closet, a vanity, a full bathroom, double doors to enter the room, and a door that connected to the nursery.

“…I think I’m gonna like it here,” you said with a grin, hands placed on your hips after you put your suitcase by the bed.

Mattheo, the two-week-old you were now officially charged with, was at a checkup with his current nanny-who had already moved out of the manor. According to a gossiping house elf, she had made…moves on the lord of the manor and he hadn’t responded well-which made sense, a nanny was meant to care for the children, not to get into the handsome lord’s pants.

But in a few hours, you’d officially begin your probably multi-year job-and take care of the baby.

Honestly…you were excited, it had been a while since you were employed like this, your last couple jobs were maybe only a few months long, the shortest being two weeks-and that had been because you quit once the man of the house began trying to seduce you and you quit on the spot-hexed him, told the mother of the children you had been caring for, helped her move out to her parents’ home, and hexed the man once more for good measure.

But that was in the past, now, you had some exploring to do…within reason as certain areas of the manor were off limits, such as the lords personal library, his living quarters, and the main dining room where he hosted meetings with his coworkers, as the house elf had told you. With the exception that if there was an emergency of course.

As such, you began to walk through the elegant halls of the manor, admiring the portraits and magical items that decorated the hallway, including enchanted suits of armor that reminded you of the armors at Hogwarts that helped patrol the halls after curfew.

The manor was nothing short of beautiful, and you were hardly regretting the choice to take the job. As you explored, a house elf appeared before you. “Oh, hello.” you murmured, stepping back as the little house elf looked up at you. “The ex-nannies has returns with the young master, the lord wishes you to begin work right away.” The house elf said and then popped away after bowing. With that, you went to the main foyer and met the ex-nanny, who gave you a bit of a stink eye as you walked down the stairs.

“Here is his schedule, feeding, baths, the like. Good luck.” The woman said shortly, clearly done with the job and everything that came with it, handing over the basket in her hand that carried the sleeping two-week-old Mattheo and then she left. You looked down at the baby, smiling a bit, he was a cutie, with round pink cheeks and a head of curly black hair.

“You’re definitely going to be the spitting image of your father,” you muttered to the sleeping baby and then you went upstairs to the nursery, opened the door that connected to your room, and got to work. you changed Mattheo carefully and set him down in his crib to finish his nap and then read his schedule, it was not as packed as you’d expect it to be, as babies his age did mostly just sleep, eat, and poop.

For now, this would be easy.

-end of p1/prologue-

im...finally back into the groove i think!!! I'm back!!! im free from C.ai!!!!

taglist! thank you all for waiting!

@helendeath @bunny24sstuff @death-be4-decaf

He looks back at you over his shoulder, a smirk on his handsome face. “Oh I’m more than sure, baby. Just trust me.”

You smile, your lower lip trapped between your teeth.

Finding his private spot, Tom slides the door open, pulling you inside and placing you on the cars seat before sliding the door closed.

You stand behind him, hands fiddling with each other as you wait on Tom to make his move.

He turns, his darkened over eyes finding yours. Your eyes flit down to his lips, tracking the movement of his tongue swiping slowly across the bottom one.

“Tom-”

Your words are cut off, a small whimper coming out instead when Tom grabs your face, his lips pressing harshly against yours.

Keeping his lips on yours, he spins the two of you around, taking a seat on the compartments bench seat, pulling you down into his lap as he does.

Your legs straddle him, one on each side of him, hands gripping his shoulders tightly as the two of you move your mouths together in quick succession. Tom pushes his tongue into your mouth, brushing it against yours, fighting for dominance before he bites down on your lower lip.

You moan into his mouth, his hands sliding down your sides and gripping your ass through your uniform skirt.

Using his grip on your ass, Tom presses you harder into him, the feel of his hardening cock now pressing firmly against your very sensitive cunt.

“Kissing you is like a fucking drug.” Tom groans, slowing down the pace of his kisses.

You grind down against him, rubbing your pussy over the length of his covered cock, your clit pulsing with every slow grind of your hips against him.

“Tom, please.” you moan, dry humping him, desperately needing to feel him.

Breaking his lips from yours, Tom rests his forehead against yours, his eyes boring into yours. “Not here, my love, but later.”

Your lip juts out into a pout, wanting nothing more than to feel Tom inside you, but understanding why he said not here. This alone was risky, anyone could walk in on the two of you.

You press your lips back against Tom’s continuing to grind against him, loving the groans and whimpers you were pulling from him as you did. Tom’s dick twitches beneath you, his lips quickly moving against yours, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.

Pressing into him harder, you rock your hips back and forth, pushing Tom closer to the edge.

He hisses in a breath, breathily mumbling against your lips. “Please, you’re going to make me- fuck, you’re going to make me cum.”

You smile against his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “That’s the point.”

Tom groans as you kiss him again, your tongue brushing against his, your hips grinding faster against him. His fingers tightly grip your ass, a low groan escaping him as his legs tighten, his jaw tensing as he comes undone, a wet spot growing on his pants.

Biting your bottom lip, you smile. “That was so hot.”

Tom groans, lifting you up off his lap and placing you on the bench beside him. His eyes flit down to the very noticeable wet spot on his khakis. “Well this isn’t embarrassing at all,” his lips twitch at the sides, a small smile growing as he looks over at you, noting the smile on your lips. “I promise you’ll be paying for this later.”

Tom Riddle and (Y/N) have an interesting relationship. Many don’t know what to call it exactly. Some would say she's simply a pet and too dumb to fight back as Head Girl. Others say she finally wore him down and he pretends he hates her to keep up his reputation as a boy with no weakness. There are even whispers that they're not dating and Tom just lets (Y/N) get away with saying anything for underhanded favours.

In reality, very few caught a glimpse of the nature of their relationship. And that number increased by one very recently.

It had started before defence against the dark arts, the pair's final class of the day. Before entering the classroom, Tom inspected the head girl: her tie was tight, her cloak fully buttoned up, hair neatly plaited, but her emerald necklace was slightly poking out of her collar.

“Fix that immediately.” He fiercely hushed her and pointed at the necklace. (Y/N) tried to look down and brought a hand to where he was pointing, feeling the cold silver exposed and mouthing a quick ‘oh’ before tucking it further. She quickly apologised as Tom rolled his eyes.

As they entered the classroom, Tom had instructed, as always, that (Y/N) sit at the front next to him to ensure her wits remained to his expected level. He had also commanded she only look at him or her parchment so that she may actually learn something in their class. After all, he reminded, there was no point in him keeping her around if she was just dead weight. (Y/N) promised.

True to her word, she remained studious with her quill and parchment or looking to Tom whenever he offered one of the sly corrections to their professor’s teaching that he seemed to always have. Most of their professors knew better than to question the pair. Their system worked and the two always scored highest in their exams. So, when class had ended and (Y/N) complimented Tom's teaching as he insulted the curriculum, he gave her one last order: To fetch some instructions in her dorm and complete research on his next project. He had evaluated her research skills long before she became Head Girl. She was faster than all her peers and quick at deciphering ancient runes from centuries ago. Delegating background research saved him hours. (Y/N) complained saying it would cut into her group study sessions and she'd been looking forward to quiz day and pummelling the Ravenclaw students again, but Tom wasn't going to be swayed. Regardless of the fact that her little quiz session would run less than one hour and her research would only take her two, leaving her well within the strict time limit of meeting at seven, Tom refused to have her focus on anything but his work. After his stern commands, (Y/N) agreed, saying he owed her a favour, something Tom always paid back.

(Y/N) had spent a good thirty minutes in the library reviewing every possible book Tom instructed her to and was currently on ‘Famously Expurgated Wizard Feats’. It wasn’t long after that one of her friends, an unlikely Hufflepuff from her quiz group who thought very little of Tom, had come over. (Y/N) waved to her and quickly apologised.

“Sorry about no-showing for the Herbology quiz session.” (Y/N) said and bowed. Her friend only looked at what was in her hands, a bunch of parchment she was concealing and a thick dusty book. She knew immediately what was going on.

“Riddle sent you on another one of his fetch and find errands?” She asked, annoyance lacing her tone. (Y/N) quickly came up with a half-truth.

“Sort of…” She trailed off. “It’s more prefect related stuff.” Her friend saw straight through the longing gaze (Y/N) held upon the ‘Prefect’.

“When was the last time he did some of your prefect work?” Her friend chided as (Y/N) raised an eyebrow to this.

“He doesn’t need to.” (Y/N) said as she tried to follow up, “But-” Her friend had already cut her off.

“Exactly.” (Y/N)’s friend shook her head. “Just because he’s been Head Boy for longer doesn’t mean you need to listen to everything he says.” She said, exasperated. “You’re head girl! You’re supposed to be equal!” (Y/N) shook her head.

“It’s not like that-” (Y/N) was quickly cut off.

“Oh? Then why does he control where you sit?” (Y/N) huffed at the accusation framed as a question.

“He has me sit next to him, so I remain top of the class.” (Y/N)’s friend rolled her eyes.

“You were top of the class before that!” (Y/N) folded her arms.

“He makes sure I remain at the top.” (Y/N)’s friend pointed to her.

“He tells you who you can spend time with.” (Y/N) shook her head.

“No, he doesn’t?” She refuted her friend’s point, but was more curious where that had come from.

“I mean he’s telling you to skip your own study group.” (Y/N)’s friend explained more clearly. (Y/N) shook her head.

“This project is important.” (Y/N) paused before giving one last counterpoint. “Besides, quiz happens every week. I’ll be there next week.” (Y/N) assured as her friend looked completely unconvinced, trying one last time.

“(Y/N).” Her friend said sternly. “He’s always sending you on these-” she used air quotes for her next word, “assignments-” she brought her hands down, “why do you think that is?” Her friend tried to lead her to the answer she was worried (Y/N) didn’t want to face.

“Because he trusts me.” (Y/N) answered as her friend scoffed.

“Trusts you?” (Y/N) nodded.

“Then why can’t he trust you with going to a study group?” (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head.

“It’s not about that; this project is clearly important.” (Y/N)’s friend had reached her breaking point.

“How the hell does ‘Famously Expurgated Wizard Feats’ have anything to do with prefect business?!” (Y/N) had to form another lie quickly.

“It’s for Slughorn’s class next year.” (Y/N) said confidently, shaking her head. “Tom suggested we get ahead.” Her Hufflepuff friend groaned.

“Even if I believe that, all you ever do is listen to him!” Her friend nearly yelled. “He knows he can get away with asking you for these things because you never say no.” (Y/N) squinted her eyes at this.

“Isn’t that more of your house’s trait?” Her friend was taken aback with shock.

“Look, I’m just worried about you.” (Y/N) shook her head, trying to ease the Hufflepuff.

“You don’t need to be, I’m fine.” (Y/N) confirmed, before she sighed again, “And if it makes you feel any better…” (Y/N) trailed off before continuing, “I like doing these things for him. I like helping people. It’s how I got Head Girl in the first place.” She softly smiled despite seeing the unamused face of her friend. She tilted her head to one side as she spoke, “And besides, not only do I get smarter,” She tilted her head to the other side, “but I get in his good books too.” She then shrugged and had a Cheshire grin. “And besides, I know he likes me.” (Y/N)’s friend scoffed, muttering to herself as she left.

“Does he? Or does he know you’ll always come back?” (Y/N)’s friend waved her off to her supposed vices. She clearly wouldn’t listen to an outsider’s perspective, not while she was carrying out a task directly for Tom. Mr Dark, Charming, and Mysterious Tom, the Hufflepuff rolled her eyes as she thought and walked off in a huff. But still, she couldn’t help but worry about his intentions toward her friend.  (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the final remark and was reminded why she kept Hufflepuffs at arm’s length. She then realised she’d wasted at least ten minutes and only had 107 minutes to research. She knew Tom would be quick to chastise this. She went straight back to her books and didn’t let a single person break her concentration.

***

It was late at night. The castle halls were empty as McGonagall was making her way to the Slytherin Common room. Of course, the Slytherin Professor was nowhere to be found, and perhaps, she thought, it was for the better as the urgent task at hand required a softer touch. The only noise besides her own restless footsteps was the rhythmic clacking of her boots. Upon facing the Slytherin entrance, she spoke the password and watched the serpent slither across the wall, revealing its doorway. She took a deep breath as she descended the stairs, looking for one student in particular: Tom Riddle.

It wasn’t difficult to find him, he was seated at the main desk in the common room, not engaging with the few remaining students by the fire. He seemed agitated, fidgeting with his ivory bone wand. She cleared her throat to get his attention, Tom looking up, then standing straight, hands behind his back as he bowed.

"Professor McGonagall, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked politely, no sign of his previous annoyance.

"Riddle..." McGonagall trailed off, trying to find the right words. "... It's (Y/N)." McGonagall hesitated for a moment to let her words reach her intended target, nervous to what they might mean to him. “I don’t know how to explain this, but…” She stopped to try and find the right words, worried with how her pauses may bring more concern to the Head Boy, but he still didn’t seem to flinch. “I know clearly from my classes how close the two of you were…” His eyebrow arched at that word. That was the only word that seemed to get a reaction. McGonagall steeled herself for her next words. “She’s in the hospital wing.” McGonagall expected him to look more shocked, maybe arch his brow just a bit further, but Tom didn’t react. So, she continued with the worst news. “We’re not sure what caused it. Madam Pomfrey is investigating her now." Once she had finally finished giving the poor news, she waited for something, anything from the boy. But the boy in front of her seemed no different to the one she’d taught in third year. All Tom did was take a breath and nod towards her. “Given this grave news, I must remand you to take control of your house and there is to be another mandatory curfew tonight, Riddle.”

"Take me to her,” Tom said. Whilst she wasn’t sure what tone he took with her, how could she deny the young boy? McGonagall solemnly nodded and ushered him to the hospital wing. The walk was quiet, but hurried, neither speaking a word to each other. McGonagall wondered what could be going through the boy’s head; Was he concerned for her? Was he annoyed by the disruption? Was he already planning a replacement for her? Nothing on Tom’s face would give away what he was thinking.

Upon arriving at the hospital wing, McGonagall left Tom to see Madam Pomfrey. Her expression said enough—grim. Tom was guided to (Y/N)'s side as her body was limp, eyes softly shut as if she were sleeping, her skin matching the cold paleness of his own.

"We're still determining a cause, but I’ve never seen anything like it before." Pomfrey said. "Once we have a line, we can start a cure." Tom continued to stare at (Y/N). This scenario had crossed his mind when they first worked together, and again when she was paired as his head girl, and then consistently once they had made their… arrangement. He had already made precautions to prevent this; he just never expected it to be used so soon. And yet, the emerald necklace that she wore slightly glimmered, concrete proof as the only tether that she was still there.

"Did she have anything on her?" Tom asked, still not turning to face Madam Pomfrey. She nodded, gesturing to the book bag on the table.

"Yes, a few research papers. I've put them in her bag for now." Tom nodded and reached for the bag, breaking his eye contact with (Y/N)'s body.

"I'll take them." Before Madam Pomfrey could even object, Tom had quickly opened the bag and retrieved the papers. He gave them a quick scan before folding them and placing them in his back pocket before looking back at (Y/N).

"When do the nurses from St Mungo's arrive?" Tom asked. He'd known that for tasks far too great for a local healer, elitists from neighbouring towns were enlisted. He intended to make sure this was no different.

"I have sent word," Pomfrey confirmed. Riddle's eyes did not move from (Y/N). "They should be here in ten minutes." Silence filled the wing again as Tom continued to stare at (Y/N) and Pomfrey at Tom. Madam Pomfrey bit her cheeks and sighed, "I'll leave you two. I'll be back once the nurses from St Mungo’s arrive." Tom was brought back to his surroundings for a second.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” That was all he said as she left, still refusing to turn his gaze from (Y/N).

For the second time in his life, Tom didn't know what to do. He, as much as he refused to admit it, didn't have an immediate solution. There was no lead to what could have caused this, she was, after all, simply researching in the library. The Basilisk was still tucked away after feasting on its two most recent victims and her ailments didn't match the previous coroner reports. Sabotage could be a possibility, but who would've dared cross not just the most powerful witch in Hogwarts, but the most powerful wizard? All he could think of were dead ends.

So, without a solution, Tom sat on the chair next to (Y/N) and took her hand. If he couldn't find an immediate answer, he could give what fleeting life left in her body some comfort she'd be nagging him for. A little voice of hers in the back of his mind taunted him, just as she'd done before she left, I knew you liked me~ she joked. And Tom scoffed, just as every time he'd done before with her ridiculous romanticism.

Madam Pomfrey had quietly snuck back in to let Tom know the nurses would be arriving in five ticks, but she kept quiet as she saw a glimpse into their relationship. She had expected Tom, the bright gentlemanly boy who dared not get close to anyone for his tragic upbringing. She’d have expected him still there, standing, his uniform immaculate like stone, the cold steely glaze of that fierce intellect students and teachers all knew him for pouring into the problem before him.

But no.