#{matty}

サンリオキャラクターズ 70's

Part two of Five Minutes Summary: Mattheo tries to make things right, but one morning changes everything. Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating @adathequeen Hope you like it :)!

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A week after Y/N and Mattheo ended things, the news broke—not quietly, not discreetly—but with the force of a Howler in a silent room: he and Astoria Greengrass were officially together.

The Slytherin friend group had an unspoken rule to avoid the storm of gossip that followed. They didn’t need to discuss it; they all understood. But Hogwarts was a castle built for whispers, and whispers traveled faster than broomsticks. Everyone thought they knew the story. They didn’t. But that never stopped the assumptions from spreading like wildfire.

And Astoria didn’t help. She floated through the corridors like she’d just been crowned queen, her hand hooked possessively through Mattheo’s arm, the picture of smug victory. Her laugh was just a little too loud, her glances just a little too pointed. It wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t meant to be.

The questions started almost immediately—snide remarks thrown casually in the corridors, pointed looks in the common room, even blunt inquiries from those who thought they were entitled to the truth. The boys shut it down. Pansy shut it down. But Y/N… she was the one everyone turned to. The one they assumed had been humiliated. The one they assumed had been cheated on.

She didn’t give them the satisfaction.

Every morning for the next week, Y/N kept her gaze fixed anywhere but the far end of the Slytherin table where Mattheo and Astoria sat. Sometimes she’d catch a flicker of movement in her periphery—Mattheo’s hand resting on her knee, Astoria tilting her head back in exaggerated laughter, his eyes scanning the Great Hall just long enough to check if Y/N was watching. She never was.

The boys made it their mission to keep her distracted—Theo picking pointless debates, Draco shoving extra toast onto her plate, Blaise dropping dry one-liners until she had no choice but to smirk. Pansy leaned in close to whisper biting gossip about everyone except Mattheo and Astoria, her painted nails tapping on Y/N’s arm until the smile finally came. It was their way of saying: you’re not alone in this.

But even with their efforts, the truth lingered in the air between them—heavy, unspoken, undeniable. Hogwarts had already decided on its version of events. And Y/N was still learning how to live under its weight.

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Weeks passed. Mattheo didn’t expect the isolation to hit him this hard. At first, he convinced himself it was fine. He had Astoria, after all. But the truth gnawed at him in the quiet moments—he missed his friends. He missed the chaos. He missed laughing until his stomach hurt in the common room at 2 a.m., plotting stupid pranks, dodging detentions as a team.

Astoria’s company, while thrilling at first, began to grate on him. Her constant gossip about people he didn’t care about made his ears buzz. At least when Pansy gossiped, it was razor-sharp, accurate, and occasionally hilarious—especially when she was tipsy. Astoria’s chatter just made him feel… empty.

So, after a month, he cracked.

He didn’t go to the right person—not Y/N. Instead, one early morning, as the boys were getting ready to head down and meet the girls for breakfast, Mattheo blurted it out.

“Please, can we all just go back to being best mates?” His voice was quieter than usual, but the word “please” landed like a thunderclap.

Theo didn’t even try to hide his scoff. “You think we can just go back to being best friends after what you did to Y/N?” His tone was cold, but the glare in his eyes burned hotter than dragon fire.

Mattheo’s gaze darted between them, searching for someone—anyone—to back him up. Draco buttoned his robes in silence. Blaise leaned against his desk, unreadable. Lorenzo crossed his arms, unimpressed.

“You fucked up big time, mate,” Lorenzo finally said, voice level but firm. “And like we’ve said before, our loyalties are with Y/N. She’s been there for us—always. And right now, she’s the one who needs us.”

Nobody argued. They didn’t need to. The nods from Theo and Draco said enough.

Lorenzo opened the dorm door and walked out without a backward glance. Theo and Draco followed. Blaise lingered.

Mattheo sat heavily on the edge of his bed, dragging a hand through his curls until his scalp ached.

Blaise sighed and crossed the room, dropping onto the mattress beside him. “Look… what you did was unforgivable,” he said plainly. “I wish I could show you exactly how she was that night. She let out this sob—Merlin, it echoed. The pain she felt, we all felt. I almost cried with her, Mattheo.”

Mattheo blinked, startled. He’d never seen Y/N crumble. Not once. She’d taken his worst moods like a pro, standing her ground and calling him out when he needed it. She’d never been afraid of him. That strength was one of the reasons he’d fallen for her in the first place.

Blaise stood, heading for the door. “We miss you too,” he admitted, pausing in the doorway. “But Y/N is our priority. She’s our best friend. Give us time. Give her time. Maybe I’ll talk to her. But no promises.” He glanced back, eyes steady. “Because if it comes down to it, we’ll always pick her.”

The door shut behind him, and Mattheo was left alone, the words replaying in his head like a curse he couldn’t break.

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Three months later, the Slytherin common room was blaring with laughter and drinks.

It was late—far past curfew—but nobody cared. The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting shadows that danced across emerald walls. Y/N lounged on the couch between Draco and Pansy, her legs curled under her, a drink in hand. Theo and Blaise were sprawled out on the rug, trading jabs over who made the better poker face, while Lorenzo had claimed an entire loveseat, stretched out like he owned the place. Laughter spilled easily between them, warm and unguarded, and for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like herself again.

The past month had been a slow climb out of the wreckage Mattheo had left behind. Her heart was still healing, but the ache had dulled enough for her to laugh without it catching in her chest. She grinned at her friends—her chosen family—and thought, This is what peace feels like.

And yet… there was a space in their circle no one quite acknowledged. A missing piece of the puzzle.

Mattheo Riddle.

She hadn’t spoken to him in three months—not a single word. She’d needed the distance, the time to patch herself together. But now… now she was ready. Not to forgive, not yet. But to take the next step in moving forward.

Which was why, when she saw movement near the stairs that led to the boys' dorm, she didn’t flinch.

Mattheo stood there, half in shadow, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. He hovered behind Theo and Blaise, who sat cross-legged on the rug, drinks in hand. Slowly, the laughter in the room fizzled into silence.

Lorenzo’s head turned first. His easy sprawl stiffened into something sharper, his glare cutting across the room. Theo set down his glass, every inch of him coiled like he was one second away from throwing a punch—or worse.

Blaise, tipsy and flushed, only gave a crooked smile, lifting his drink lazily. “Well, look who crawled out of his dark and brooding cave.”

Pansy was less amused. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing to icy slits. “What are you doing here, Riddle?”

Mattheo’s lips curved into a rare, almost playful smile. “Missed you too, Parkinson.”

The tension spiked. Draco, sitting close beside Y/N, didn’t take his eyes off Mattheo. Without thinking, he slung an arm around her shoulders in a gesture that was equal parts protective and possessive. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Y/N couldn’t help it—she chuckled softly at the way they all closed ranks without hesitation. Setting her glass down, she stood, drawing every gaze in the room.

“Don’t worry,” she said, her voice steady. “I asked him to come.”

The reaction was instant.

“What?” they all shouted at once—well, Blaise’s was more of a drunken drawl, but the disbelief was unanimous.

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Earlier that day, Y/N had stumbled across a rare sight: Mattheo Riddle, completely alone in the Astronomy Tower. No Astoria clinging to his arm, no smug smile aimed at the world like she’d already won.

“I see we both had the same idea,” Y/N said casually, her voice breaking the quiet.

Mattheo jumped like he’d been hexed, whipping around to stare at her in shock. This was the first time she’d spoken to him since that night.

It took him a moment to recover, but when he did, his tone was almost careful. “Yeah… needed some fresh air.” He turned back toward the open expanse, watching the first rays of sunrise crawl over the horizon.

Y/N stepped forward, joining him at the ledge. The early morning sky bled from deep violet to gold, clouds blushing pink under the slow rise of the sun. The sight tugged at memories she hadn’t meant to revisit—those mornings when they’d sneak up here together, still rumpled from sleep, sharing stolen hours like they were the only two people in the world.

Silence settled over them, heavy but not unbearable, stretching long enough for the air between them to thicken. Neither seemed willing to make the first move.

Finally, Y/N broke it—with the kind of remark that was sharp enough to cut through the tension.

“I see your other half didn’t manage to glue herself to your side for once,” she said lightly, eyes still on the horizon. “Or did she get lost on the way up? It’s a long climb for someone who wears heels to breakfast.”

Mattheo turned his head toward her, a chuckle escaping before he could stop it. Of course, she’d start there. “I never bring her with me,” he said simply.

She only hummed in reply, the sound almost dismissive, though her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile.

He kept looking at her. The sunrise painted her features in soft gold, making her eyes catch the light just so. And then he noticed—really noticed—what she was wearing.

Those pajama shorts. The ones that always rode up just enough when she walked to flash a dangerous sliver of skin. And over them, a hoodie that… wasn’t his.

Still, something about it nagged at him. He’d seen it before, he was sure of it. The faded print on the sleeve, the way the fabric hung just a little too big on her frame—it was familiar in a way that made his chest tighten. He couldn’t place it, and the not knowing irritated him more than he wanted to admit.

It was slipping off one shoulder now, revealing the delicate white lace of her bralette. He tore his eyes away, jaw tight.

Merlin, he’d missed her. Not just the way she looked, but the way she filled the air without even trying. Around Astoria, he always felt… smothered. Suffocated under her constant touch, her relentless chatter, the way she demanded all the oxygen in the room.

But here—standing next to Y/N with the world still quiet and half-asleep—he could breathe again.

“The boys miss you,” Y/N said at last, glancing over her shoulder at him. She leaned lazily against the railing, the sunrise bathing her skin in gold. “I can tell… the way they drop some half-baked innuendo and pause, like they’re waiting for you to pop out of thin air and top it with something so filthy they regret asking. You’ve left them tragically underwhelmed.”

She rolled her eyes, though the tiniest curve tugged at her lips.

Mattheo’s answering smile was small, almost hesitant. “I miss them too.”

Her gaze met his—sharp, steady—and for the first time since that night, her pulse stayed even. No skipped beats, no pang in her chest. She breathed out slowly, eyes closing for a second before drifting back to the horizon.

Mattheo, however, felt the opposite. The second her eyes locked on his, something in him lurched—heart hammering like it had just remembered how to work. His hands flexed against the cold stone railing, knuckles whitening, fighting the urge to reach for her. He couldn’t stop looking—at the way the wind teased a strand of hair across her cheek, at the hoodie slipping lower on her shoulder, at the faint curve of her smirk. He took a breath, and it felt like the first real one in months.

Y/N straightened, stepping toward the tower’s stairs. She paused with her back to him.

“The boys, Pansy, and I are having drinks tonight in the common room,” she said, voice light but carrying a deliberate edge. “Just the six of us. You can come—” she glanced over her shoulder, a sly smirk ghosting her lips— “but leave your shadow behind. We’re not serving champagne and tiaras.”

And then she was gone, the sound of her footsteps fading down the stairs, leaving Mattheo rooted in place, pulse still thundering, her voice echoing in his head like a dare he knew he couldn’t ignore.

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The seven Slytherins kept drinking, the air growing warmer, looser, and just a bit hazy. After a while—even if no one admitted it—the boys started to relax around Mattheo again. Maybe it was the firelight, maybe the alcohol, or maybe it was just easier to forget grudges when you were tipsy and laughing over old stories.

“I missed you, mate,” Blaise slurred, throwing an arm around Mattheo’s shoulders like they’d never been apart. “I mean, who the hell pranks Potter and gets away with it while McGonagall’s standing right there? Legendary.”

Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head at Blaise’s dramatics. He sat wedged between Theo and Blaise, trying to match their easy laughter, but every so often his gaze drifted to the couch across the room. Draco, Y/N, and Pansy were deep in conversation, but it was Draco’s arm still draped casually over the back of Y/N’s shoulders that made something unpleasant twist in Mattheo’s chest.

Enzo, sprawled in his chair, rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure Blaise just missed his scapegoat.”

Theo snorted. “Yeah, Zabini tried to hex some poor Puff in the hallway and got caught instantly. By McGonagall.”

Mattheo smirked, glancing at Blaise.

“And it wasn’t like he could pin it on one of us,” Theo went on, clearly enjoying himself. “One—she literally saw him throw the hex. Two—you weren’t there to take the blame, since you’re usually the one causing chaos and dragging us all down with you.”

“Oi, shut your trap, Nott,” Blaise shot back, pointing at Theo with his drink. “You act like you didn’t miss your lung-cancer buddy over here.”

Theo raised a brow. “What—”

“This one practically begged Enzo and me to take a smoke with him once!” Blaise announced proudly, as if it were some deep betrayal.

Enzo shuddered dramatically. “Yeah, I almost caved, until Draco threatened to kick all three of us out of the common room if we didn’t stop arguing about it.”

Mattheo’s laughter trailed off as his gaze drifted back to Y/N yet again. She was still tucked comfortably beside Draco, her head tipped back in laughter at something Pansy had said. Draco’s hand was still resting on the back of the couch behind her, fingers brushing her shoulder every now and then like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mattheo’s jaw tightened. He told himself it was the firelight making him feel too warm.

Theo noticed first. He followed Mattheo’s line of sight, smirk curving slow and sharp. “Careful, Riddle. You keep staring like that, and people might think you’re brooding over Y/N instead of your beloved Astoria.”

Blaise, drunk enough to ignore tact, barked a laugh. “Merlin, imagine Astoria’s face if she saw this. She’d probably throw herself off the Astronomy Tower just to make it your problem.”

Enzo snorted into his drink. “Nah, she’d just throw Y/N instead.”

Theo leaned back on his elbows, still watching Mattheo. “What’s the matter? Not enough air up there in the Greengrass penthouse? Or is the crown getting too heavy?”

Mattheo forced a chuckle, but his grip tightened around his glass. “You lot talk too much.”

“Maybe,” Theo said lightly, “but at least we don’t look like we’re planning a murder every time Draco puts his arm around her.”

Mattheo didn’t answer—just took another long drink, the firelight flickering in his eyes.

From across the room, Y/N glanced over, and for the briefest second, their eyes met. Hers held his for just long enough to make his pulse stumble… and then she looked away, smiling at something Draco said, leaving Mattheo with that same twisting ache in his chest.

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The next morning, the Slytherin table looked like a crime scene.

Most of them were slouched over their plates, pumpkin juice in hand like it was a life-saving potion. The clatter of cutlery from the other tables felt like someone had cast an Amplifying Charm straight into their skulls.

“Never,” Theo muttered, clutching his head, “and I mean never, let me drink with Zabini again.”

“You say that every time,” Enzo grumbled, face buried in his folded arms.

Pansy, looking suspiciously put-together for someone who’d been matching Blaise shot for shot, sniffed. “Some of us are built for endurance.”

“That’s because some of us,” Blaise mumbled into his toast, “aren’t already three drinks deep before the party starts.”

Mattheo sat at the far end of the bench, nursing his coffee, his mind on anything but the conversation. He’d been holding something in since morning, and with everyone moving slow, he figured now was as good a time as any.

“I broke up with Astoria,” he said suddenly.

The reaction wasn’t shock—just a ripple of satisfied looks and raised brows. “About time,” Theo said, spearing a sausage with his fork. “She was about as fun as a History of Magic lecture.”

“Yeah,” Enzo added, “and at least now you can stop looking like a Niffler trapped in a jewelry shop every time Y/N walks into the room.”

Mattheo hesitated, then leaned forward. “That’s… actually why I—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I want Y/N ba—”

“Stop.”

Pansy’s voice cut clean through the table chatter. She set her teacup down with deliberate precision, eyes locking on him with cool finality.

“You’re history, Riddle,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You had your chance, and you blew it. And whether you’ve noticed or not, she’s been happy without you.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, the Great Hall doors swung open.

Draco walked in, that signature smirk firmly in place. But it wasn’t his expression that hit Mattheo like a Bludger—it was the hoodie he was wearing. The same oversized one Y/N had been in at the Astronomy Tower. The same one Mattheo had spent hours trying to place. Now he knew.

Y/N followed a step behind, hand brushing Draco’s arm as they approached. Her smile was easy, genuine.

Draco reached their group and dropped into a seat beside Theo. “Figured I’d save you all the guessing,” he drawled. “Y/N and I made it official last night.”

Around Mattheo, there were knowing smiles and casual congratulations.

Theo clapped Draco’s shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

Blaise raised his goblet lazily. “Knew it was coming the second she started laughing at your horrible jokes.”

Enzo side hugged Y/N, smiling at her, "I'm happy for you, love."

Pansy just smirked, taking another sip of tea. “Told you,” she murmured, “history.”