#muggleborn

            After all, it was your birthday. Your seventeenth to be precise.

            You weren’t expecting a lot, in all honesty. Just a day of happiness, spent with your closest friend… and even your boyfriend, Draco. Most of all, he had promised you—

            “I can’t believe I turn seventeen in a few days,” you whispered, more to yourself if anything as you burrowed into your beloved boyfriend’s chest, hiding away from the rest of the world… The tips of his fingernails slowly traced a line up your spine, creating a rather ticklish sensation, your quiet giggles sounding like the vocal music of the angels in Draco’s mind. He brought you closer (you didn’t think that had even been possible, not with how close you both already were) his arms wrapping tighter around your waist, his chin making a home in your many locks of hair.

            He had snuck you into his dorm. Since you were both in the same House, it was easier said than done—Theo and Blaise decided to attend class for once, so Draco took his chances.

            “Mhm,” a small smile touched his lips as he hummed, his grey eyes peering at you—he had always cherished how you fit so perfectly against him. Like he was made for you, and you him. “I bought you something, actually.” Though, as soon as those words left his lips, he immediately regretted saying them in the first place, seeing how you sat up within an instant, your wide, bright eyes meeting his.

            “What?—Why? You know I hate it when you buy me things,” you frowned, though it looked more of a pout in Draco’s eyes, his small smile widening into an amused grin.

            “And why is that? Am I not a good enough gift giver for you?” his teasing voice prompted you to roll your eyes, the heel of your hand colliding with his chest, almost like you were shoving him playfully.

            “No, you always buy really… expensive things—don’t your parents wonder where the money’s going?” you asked, your tone sounding a little more serious now. He hated how concerned you grew whenever it came to the people in his life—but, it was basically his fault. Sometimes, he thought about how it would’ve been better if he’d decided not to pursue this relationship with you.

            But, for once, he wanted to be more selfish than usual. Everyone that feared Draco seemed to conclude that he always got what he wanted, but that was not the case.

            He got lucky with you.

            “Don’t worry about my parents,” was all he said; his expression didn’t say much, but you could tell he didn’t want to continue this particular conversation. Initially, your heart dropped, worried that you had overstepped a boundary—though, the way his fingers intertwined with yours, the way his thumb rubbed the gentlest of circles across your skin… it caused your anxious feelings to dissipate.

            They never really go away. They just… stick to the surroundings. Hence why your inner voice used the term ‘dissipate’. Your mind always knew better than your soul, always two steps ahead…

            “Can you at least tell me what the gift is?” your question was much more softer this time, smiling because of how warm he made you feel—how warm his hand felt against yours. You wanted to ask another question; something that probed at your mind recently was how he always wore long sleeved shirts around you now. It wasn’t a problem entirely, it merely sparked worry inside you. In spite of that, you supposed that attempting to ask would only push him away.

            Draco was confusing in that sense. Your love for him, however, overpowered that.

            “Of course not, my heart,” murmured Draco, his grey eyes twinkling with his usual charm. Using that nickname that always made your soul melt like fresh honey. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

            “You’re the bloody worst,” you groaned, his deep chuckle flipping your organs inside out as you collapsed against him once again, snuggling into the cotton of his grey jumper.

            Tell me about it, was what he wanted to reply, but he stopped himself. It was a happy moment. A moment of peace for once in his fucked up life. He wouldn’t ruin it.

            Not with you, the only person who believed in him.

            —That was before you stumbled upon a conversation with Draco and his friends today. Being a Muggleborn sorted into the House of Slytherin was clearly a set up from bloody Merlin himself. Unsurprisingly, you had more friends outside of Slytherin; a lot of the Hufflepuffs, thankfully, were sympathetic to your situation. That afternoon of your birthday, you had walked out of the girls’ dorms, relieved that you had found your Transfiguration homework, heading straight towards the Common Room…

            And, that was when you heard it.

            Gregory Goyle saying your name.

            “What are you so hot and bothered about?” Crabbe nudged Goyle, seeing how visibly peeved the latter appeared to be after exiting the boys’ rooms. Draco wasn’t particularly interested in the conversation after his little… rendezvous at the Room of Requirement. He simply sat in an armchair, playing with his silver bracelet.

            It had a butterfly charm, actually. Your middle name, translated from Latin, meant ‘butterfly’. For your birthday, which was today, he had bought you a dragon charm since ‘Draco’ meant ‘dragon’ in Latin. However, you wore yours on a sterling chain around your neck, wanting it to be hidden—no one would believe that you could afford something like that.

            “Snape teared me a new one,” he grumbled, plopping himself down onto the velvety green sofas with a huff. Crabbe pulled a face.

            “You mean tore—”

            “—Shut up. Anyway, he saw how shitty my grades were and now he’s forcing me to get a tutor! Fucking unbelievable,” Goyle muttered under his breath, running a hand through his extremely thin curls, leaning his head back as Crabbe replied.

            “Nothin’ wrong with that. I’m being tutored too,” he shrugged, sitting beside him as he fiddled with his watch. Releasing an irritated ebb of air, Draco also leaned his head back, wondering how long he was going to endure this pointless discussion.

            “You’re not being tutored by that mudblood, [Y/L/N].”

            That was when you heard it. Standing under the doorway that led towards the Common Room. It was nothing new, being insulted with that term. Nevertheless, your eyes fell on Draco, seeing the way he picked his head up slightly at the mention of you.

            You waited. For a good few moments. Hoping. Praying that he would defend you.

            And, a few seconds later, he laughed, bearing his pearly whites and all.

            “Yeah, good luck with that. She’s a real fucking brown noser, that one.”

            By that point, your mind was blocking out every sound that followed Draco’s words—you made a run for it, not even bothering to look at your so-called boyfriend, dashing out of the Slytherin Dungeons before fleeing to the Astronomy Tower. You had tried to keep it in, your tears, your sorrow—it was all too much.

            To make matters worse, he had fucking followed you. As soon as he made sure that his lackeys couldn’t question him, he’d tried to catch up to you, but you were always the quicker one. If you weren’t so obsessed with academics, you’d make a real good Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch Team.

            There Draco Malfoy stood, watching your hysteric sobs consume you, your head in your hands—he knew that you’d be upset; in fact, he knew you’d been listening the entire time. He noticed you before you had even become the topic of conversation.

            He always noticed you.

            And now, you had noticed him. Your gaze lifting momentarily, only for it to widen at the sight of your boyfriend standing there with the blankest of expressions. Sniffling to yourself, you stood up from your seat on the ground, your expression one of clear torment.

            Anger. Anger consuming you because you didn’t know why you were putting yourself through this. Dating one of the richest Purebloods a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. When you were only a measly Muggleborn. A Mudblood.

            Even so, the same weight of dissipated dejection weighed over you. Why did he ask you out? Why did he become friends with you in the first place if this was how he saw you? If this was how it was going to be? Him pretending to care about your blood status in front of his good-for-nothing friend group.

            Maybe, after all this time, it wasn’t a pretense. Perhaps this was a prank he’d instigated just to humiliate you.

            Numerous possibilities. Numerous outcomes. They all filled your head like snakes in a vat of thick, torturous tar.

            Your voice broke the silence.

            “I don’t understand you,” your first statement filled the atmosphere like a hot vapour, suffocating not just you, but the other person in the room—Draco. Your tears had stopped, cheeks still wet with your misery as you stared at him, not just with passionate feelings of indignation, but more so disbelief. And he couldn’t handle it.

            I should’ve done this earlier.

            “Really?” His voice was quiet. Almost noiseless, like he was calculating the best way for this to go. “I don’t think you’ve ever understood me, my heart.”

            That nickname. The nickname reserved for you and you only. There was once a time where it would make your insides all warm and fuzzy, where it would make your soul melt like honey. Now… now, it felt like molten; searing, dripping lava scorching your insides, burning you—destroying you from within.

            Those anxious feelings, the ones that dissipated. They came back.

            “Seriously?” you scoffed, blinking away the fresh saltwater that threatened to spill from the very crevices of your heart. “Was all of this just some cruel joke to you? Our friendship? Our relationship?”

            Silence.

            Silence, silence, SILENCE—

            “Oh, don’t go all quiet on me now,” you muttered with a breathless chuckle, stepping forward, only to shove him where it would hurt the most—slamming your heel against his chest, where his heart would feel its impact. He certainly did with the way he turned his head to the side, unable to look at you. “You planned this to embarrass me, didn’t you? You never loved me, all these stupid gifts—” you reached inside your shirt, only to rip the sterling chain from your neck, throwing it at him— “It was all fake?! It was for YOUR enjoyment, wasn’t it, Draco?”

            No.

            “Of course it fucking was,” he finally snapped, glaring at you with those grey eyes—you swore that they had been brighter once, that they had sparkled in the sunlight during those ever so secretive moments in his dorm. Regardless, it was now darkness that devoured those orbs you always pined after. Depravity. Hatred.

            All over a blood status.

            “You’re a mudblood, [Y/N], you’ll always be a fucking mudblood—why can’t you get that through your insipid brain of yours?” he was seething now, catching you completely off guard as he grabbed your shoulders, staring into those wide, dimmed eyes that used to glow every time you saw him.

            “Theodore gave me the idea, you know?” Lies, lies, lies. “Told me to mess with you a little since no one else would dare touch such… such scum,” he laughed—he was fucking laughing. Watching as more tears rolled down your cheeks, like it was automatic. Two natural waterfalls crashing into the warm chambers of your coveted core. “I mean, come on, love—I thought you were smarter than this,” his taunts overwhelmed you like a vice, his grip on your biceps tightening, wanting to hurt you as much as he could—needing to, so you could walk away.

            “You’re just as delusional as the rest of them,” scoffed Draco, his lips, the same lips that locked with yours in the early hours of the morning, holding a barely perceptible smirk, clearly proud at how broken you looked. How utterly devastated you appeared before him. Glass-like tears decorating the apples of your cheeks like diamonds on a dress, eyelashes wet with absolute desolation—the contentment that had embraced you like a blanket earlier today had vanished in less than seconds.

            All because of Draco Lucius Malfoy.

            “Probably shouldn’t have led you on for so long, huh?” he murmured gently, like he was complimenting you. Like this wasn’t eating you up completely; terrorising you. His calloused fingers cupped one of your delicate cheeks, his thumb swiping across your skin to wipe those tears away, the ones you had fought so hard, but had escaped your crevice anyway. A whimper of sheer melancholy was all you could respond with, crying to yourself—your entire life was a lie.

            “Fuck you, Malfoy,” you whispered, shaking your head from his almost-soothing grasp, stepping away once again, feeling rotten to the core. Your eyes met his for a final moment, your bottom lip quivering, as well as your entire body—like you were cold, frostbitten. Betrayed. “We’re done. I hope I never see you again.”

            With that, you shoved past him, your hushed weeps trailing after you as you fled the tower, leaving your ex-boyfriend alone in the tower. Leaving him with his deprecating thoughts.

            She wasn’t worth it.

            Father wouldn’t have approved.

            MUDBLOOD.

            Swallowing the painful lump that grew by the second in the confines of his throat, Draco’s eyes landed on the sterling chain at his feet—the one that he had gifted you only this morning. Holding the dragon charm. Holding him. He bent down to pick it up, seizing it like it was the most delicate thing he had ever felt; and it only held that title because it was purely yours. His heart was yours and yours only.

            “Don’t worry, my heart,” he murmured to himself, the ambient glow of his Dark Mark resonating through the rich cotton of his shirt. His thumb brushing over the silver scales of the charm with an utmost gentle manner.  “You won’t.”

The following Saturday morning, the entire Quidditch pitch had been unofficially reserved.

This immediately raised concerns throughout Hogwarts.

"Why are all eight Slytherins carrying broomsticks?"

"Is this a cult thing?"

"WHY IS MALFOY CARRYING FLOWERS?"

"Emotional support flowers," Draco corrected.

Everyone immediately assumed the worst.

"Oh Merlin."

"They're finally making the muggle-born fly."

Then they saw what was actually happening.

"Those monsters."

Mattheo was currently carrying you bridal style because you'd refused to walk onto the Quidditch pitch.

Theo had brought three books titled:

• Flying for Beginners

• Flying Safety

• Flying Safety for Nervous Witches and Wizards

Blaise had packed an entire picnic basket.

Pansy was braiding ribbons onto your broom because "it was ugly."

Astoria had charmed tiny stars onto your flying gloves.

Daphne was repeatedly asking if you wanted to stop.

Lorenzo was trying to convince you that flying was "basically sitting on a floating chair."

And Draco?

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?" one Gryffindor asked from the stands.

Draco had purchased what was probably the most expensive beginner's broomstick available because "if she's going to panic, she might as well panic comfortably."

"We're teaching our girlfriend how to fly," Mattheo answered as if it was obvious.

"Why are there flowers?"

"Because she's nervous."

"WHY ARE THERE SNACKS?"

"Because she's nervous."

"WHY ARE THERE EIGHT OF YOU?"

At this point, the entire school had gathered around the Quidditch pitch to witness what they assumed would be your immediate death.

"Because SHE'S NERVOUS!"

"This feels like public humiliation," you whispered.

"No, darling," Pansy corrected. "Public humiliation would be making you do this in front of the entire school without us threatening anyone who laughs."

The first lesson?

"THAT'S FAIR!"

Actually touching the broom.

"No."

"Reader."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"It's literally wood."

"THAT FLOATS!"

"THAT'S THE BEST PART!"

Twenty minutes later, you'd finally agreed to hold it.

"OH MY MERLIN IT'S REAL."

"It's a broomstick."

"IT'S FLOATING WOOD, THEO!"

"Technically speaking-"

"No."

The second lesson was getting on the broom.

Which somehow took longer than expected because you'd become convinced that broomsticks had opinions.

"What if it doesn't like me?"

"..."

"..."

"...Reader."

"Yes?"

"It's a broom."

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT FOR SURE!"

"IT LITERALLY IS A BROOM!"

Eventually, Mattheo sat down behind you on the broom.

"There. Problem solved."

"WHY ARE YOU ON THE BROOM TOO?!"

"Because if you panic and fall, I panic and fall."

"THAT'S VERY SWEET BUT ALSO INCREDIBLY STUPID!"

"Welcome to dating Slytherins."

The broom slowly lifted approximately five inches off the ground.

Silence.

"WE'RE FLYING!"

"Technically."

"WE'RE FLYING!"

"We're closer to hovering."

"I CAN SEE MY GRAVE FROM HERE!"

"Reader, we're shorter than Hagrid's boots."

The entire Quidditch pitch watched in amusement as the most feared group of Slytherins in Hogwarts spent the next three hours celebrating every tiny achievement.

"YOU MOVED TWO FEET!"

"THAT'S TWO MORE FEET THAN YESTERDAY!"

"SHE DIDN'T CRY THIS TIME!"

By the end of the afternoon, you'd managed to:

"THAT DESERVES CHOCOLATE!"

• hover approximately two feet off the ground,

• move forward without screaming,

• successfully land by yourself,

• understand roughly half of Quidditch.

And somehow...

You were smiling.

"Can we do this again next weekend?" you asked shyly.

The entire group immediately melted.

"Of course, darling."

"Really?"

"Reader," Blaise smiled softly, "you've spent months learning how to live in our world."

You tilted your head in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't grow up with magic," Astoria smiled. "Which means we get to show you all the things we've loved our entire lives."

The entire school had expected the Slytherin Gang to hate the muggle-born transfer student.

Instead, they got eight overprotective idiots who spent their Saturdays teaching their terrified girlfriend how to sit on a flying broomstick.

Needless to say...

When his cigarettes weren’t doing it anymore, Mattheo began drinking at thirteen. It wasn’t like his friends weren’t doing it – hell, Enzo was one of the heaviest drinkers of their entire friend group and Theo always had his lighter on him

Mattheo lost his virginity at thirteen to a seventh year girl

He continued this trend of smoking, drinking, and fucking all throughout the years. It became common for him and the rest of the Slytherins to sit in the back of the class, smoking or muttering annoyed comments. When they were younger, the professors would try to give them detention for it, but Draco would just make a remark about messaging his father or Theo would keep direct eye contact with the professor as he kept smoking. Needless to say, nothing changed. If they were actually issued detention (most likely by McGonagall) they just wouldn’t show up. (After McGonagall once cornered all of them in the Great Hall and levitated them out to serve their detention sentence, they all got a bit more respectful in her classroom. That didn’t stop them from doing it to the other teachers. Snape, for example, hardly batted an eye)

Somehow, this didn’t impact their Quidditch playing. Mattheo had joined the team in his third year as a Beater and he actually really enjoyed the game. Flying allowed him to leave his troubles on the ground and while pulling himself out of bed at the crack of dawn just because they wanted to stick it to Oliver Wood was unfortunate, he was a fucking good Beater

There was a couple of girls he would keep around every so often who didn’t mind being in his bed before being tossed away, but inevitably, Mattheo would get irritated by their claims that they were the one to tie down the son of the Dark Lord. That’s all it ever was, wasn’t it? He was the Heir of Slytherin, son of You-Know-Who, the next Riddle… never just Mattheo

He did enjoy Professor Lupin to an extent. The man never pushed him to do anything, which he was thankful for, especially because he knew what would come out of the closet if his Boggart was released. The professor even gave him some chocolate after that class

Of course, his life wasn't as miserable as one may make it out to seem. He had a good group of friends who he genuinely was close to, no matter the social expectations of their parents. They would all lounge around the Black Lake and Enzo would throw a Quaffle up and down in the air as Draco laid in Pansy’s lap and Blaise and Mattheo smoked. Daphne Greengrass would inevitably join them, complaining about some professor and Theo would somehow incorporate a lewd remark in her direction, smirking

It was one day like that when you entered his life. Mattheo was lighting another cigarette. It was dangling from his lips and his hand was curled around his lighter, trying to get it to spark. His eyes were downcast, focused lazily on the light, when he heard a scoff. Theo’s snicker reached his ears just as his gaze flicked up. You were walking past with a gaggle of your friends, looking down at him from where he was seated. Disgust laced your stare

Mattheo had already been having an unlucky day. Maybe he would’ve let it go on a good day, but he had gotten up late so there wasn’t any coffee left in the Great Hall, Flitwick had then called him out in front of the class, he had noticed a tear in his Quidditch robes, and now his lighter wasn’t working. “Oi! L/n,” he called out, motioned to Theo for his lighter. “What’s with the pissy face? It doesn’t suit you.” He caught Theo’s lighter and flicked it open, sucking in a cloud of nicotine

Your friend grabbed your arm, but you were not known to back down when it came to your opinions. “My problem, Riddle?” you asked, turning around on him. “Is that we’re here in this magical world, practically a utopia, and you’re fucking it up with your smoking.”

Everyone around you stilled.

Oh, shit. Mattheo couldn’t help the wicked grin that curled onto his lips. He slowly stood up, cracking his back as he did so. “Is that it?” he asked, still smirking. Blaise tried to cover his laughter at how terrified your friends looked

Mattheo didn’t know if the reason you weren’t terrified like your friends was because you were dumb or a mudblood. He thought that all muggleborns should have been told about his lineage. Maybe you had missed the memo or didn’t realise the gravity that came with the Riddle name

“Yeah, that’s it,” you replied, placing a hand on your hip. “Smoking’s really bad for you, you know that, right? This has been known for years now.”

Mattheo scoffed and took another drag of his cigarette. “Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. “Newsflash, sweetheart, I’m not worried about lung cancer. Kinda the last of my concerns right now.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be infecting the rest of us,” you argued. 

When Pansy whispered over to Daphne, “who does she think she is?” your eyes finally flicked to the rest of his group and how they were all staring at you, either entertained or thoroughly unimpressed. You got the feeling like you were an animal behind bars they were peering at. You had stepped out of your place and were going to come to regret it if nothing happened soon. It was the feeling all teenagers had at some point and one you would remember well. When your friend tugged at your arm once more, you gave in and let her pull you away

You could still feel Mattheo’s eyes burning into you as you walked away

There were only so many students in a Year at Hogwarts. With the joined classes, it wasn’t uncommon for social circles to mix and wider groups of friends to be created. It was normal for everyone to know everyone. That being said, Mattheo made a point of not socialising outside of his friend group. No one wanted him anyway, so what did it matter?

He knew what your general manner and vibe was. You cared more about school than he ever would and he doubted you had ever taken a shot, much less smoked weed. You weren’t as stuck up as Granger was — he had at least seen you laughing and joking with your friends sometimes — but you weren’t someone he associated with

Mattheo began to keep an eye out for you during fourth year. It was almost unconscious, like a new character had been unlocked in a video game and he began noticing you around. But he didn’t do anything about it

At the Yule Ball (which Mattheo was reluctant to attend), he had been forced into a black suit and dress shirt by Draco. He stepped outside with Theo, unbuttoning the jacket and first couple of buttons, to take a much needed smoke break. He could see Snape breaking up couples on the other side of the grounds, but it was a hushed argument close by that got his attention

He was so close to ignoring it when he heard your name. Maybe it was his nosiness that got the better of him. He jerked a head to Theo who followed after him as Mattheo investigated

“I swear, Pieter, just leave me alone. I’m not even your date,” you were saying when Mattheo rounded the corner

No, Mattheo’s expression didn’t change when he saw a Durmstrang student coming onto you, but an unexpected chill ran through him. He didn’t like how close that boy was to you. He didn’t like how you were turning from the boy, trying to get away. “Oi,” he spoke before he could think

The Durmstrang student glanced over. Even if he didn’t know Mattheo was the son of Voldemort, the general darkness that followed Mattheo around was enough to frighten anyone, especially when Mattheo was staring at the Durmstrang student with the barely controlled anger that got him into so many fights

 “What’s going on,” Mattheo said. Behind him, Theo stared at the Durmstrang boy. The two Slytherins didn’t need to even look angry – it was just their aura that frightened anyone

“Is this your girl?” the Durmstrang boy asked, glancing over at you. You were looking between the two, confusion written over your face, but still coiled up, ready to do what you needed to stay safe. You wanted to believe that Mattheo wouldn’t hurt you, but if push came to shove, you were willing to do whatever it took to stay safe

Mattheo shrugged, dropping his cigarette on the ground and stubbing it out with his dress shoe. “Does it matter?” he drawled. “Seems like she doesn’t wanna be with you.”

For once that night, the Durmstrang boy made the right decision. Maybe it was the scarred over knuckles on Mattheo or the way Theo was looking at him that got him to back down. “Alright,” he muttered, shuffling away

Mattheo’s attention turned to you when the boy disappeared. There was a long moment of silence between the two of you, both of you waiting for the other to say something to break the tension. “You’re welcome,” Mattheo finally said, expectant

You scoffed and crossed your arms. “I had it handled. I don’t need a ‘big, strong man’ to come and save me.”

A flicker of a smirk flashed across his face. “So you think I’m big and strong?” After you scoffed again and rolled your eyes, Mattheo asked, “but seriously, where’s your wand?”

A sort of shocked, maybe even terrified look came across your face. “I… I forgot,” you muttered. “I- I didn’t even– oh, god, I’m so stupid.” You ran a hand over your face. “You’d think that after four years of magic, I wouldn’t freeze up like an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Mattheo chuckled. Theo muttered something about mudbloods from behind them and Mattheo glanced back at his friend. For once, he hesitated. “Just don’t do it again,” he remarked gruffly, his light smirk vanishing

Later that year, after the Triwizard Tournament, when everyone was skirting around him and rumours were spreading, you didn’t look at him with hatred. No, it was more concern that flooded through you, like you were worried for him, not about him. Mattheo brushed it aside as his mind playing tricks on him

At the beginning of fifth year, Mattheo returned to Hogwarts with the Dark Mark emblazoned on his forearm

Whispers followed him wherever he went, but Mattheo had lived his whole life keeping his shields up. He walked down the halls, shoulders back and cigarette dangling from his lips, a dangerous nonchalance emanating from him. When Enzo and Draco began acting up or Mattheo rested his feet up on his desk, the teachers didn’t dare to comment

He kept on drinking and smoking his cares away, but one stubborn part of his brain kept thinking of you. It was brief and fleeting at first and he couldn't understand it for the life of him. He wanted to ask Pansy about it, but knew that she might blab to Draco who would inevitable tell the whole group

He had bigger things to think about, anyway. Umbridge was taking over the castle and even though Draco and Pansy were in her idiotic little group, Mattheo and the rest of his friends refused to be associated with her. It was one thing that united a majority of the students. Now, he didn’t go far enough to join Potter’s stupid Dumbledore’s Army play group (of course he knew about it), but he wouldn’t rat them out either

He knew the stigma Slytherin house got from everyone else and honestly, he was tired of it. He knew he definitely fit that stigma, but there were a couple of younger students who had been put in the house simply because they were ambitious and cunning. There were even some muggleborns in Slytherin and one of them made a goddamn decent Chaser on the Quidditch team

Even though the pink witch was terrorising the castle, Mattheo still was a teenage boy. He couldn’t help the jealousy that overcame him when he saw you getting closer to the Weasley twins. While he hated the Weasley twins and the rest of their clan, he couldn’t help but admit that some of their pranks were decent (like terrorising Draco with reminders of his weasel days)

Mattheo didn’t know why you were getting closer to them and it irked him like no other. He was coming out of detention one day, blood drying on the back of his hand with the stupid scars of one of Umbridge’s vague insults. He saw you in a corner with one of the twins standing over you. Immediately, he stiffened. What were you doing so close to that ginger abomination? Why was he touching you and talking quietly? Mattheo’s jaw clenched tightly when he noticed that the twin was examining your hand. Oh. You must’ve had detention before Mattheo did and now the Weasley twin was tending to your wounds

Conflicting emotions ran through the son of the Dark Lord. His hatred for both Umbridge and the Weasley twin grew tenfold. That pink witch shouldn’t have laid a finger on you. Hell, Mattheo was pretty sure that you had never even gotten detention before. What on earth could you have done to warrant such a harsh punishment? Then, to top it all off, his counterpart on the Quidditch field was comforting you when it could’ve been Mattheo

Of course, would Mattheo have been a good person to comfort you? As much as he hated to admit it, he doubted he would have been able to give you the comfort you needed, though a weird part of him wanted to try

As he passed by, you caught his eye and gave a deprecating little laugh as you lifted your hand in explanation. Mattheo nodded once and then raised his own hand. The Weasley twin squared his shoulders, glaring at Mattheo, but when the Slytherin continued walking, the ginger shifted back. Mattheo could hear the twin whisper to you and Mattheo practically preened when he heard your quiet voice say, “he got hurt too. It’s Umbridge to be furious at, not him.”

It was in sixth year during one of Slughorn’s weirdass potion classes that things were clarified. Amortentia was not on his list of potions he wanted to brew, but goddamn if the smell of your bodywash didn’t fill up the classroom. He didn’t even recognise some of the scents he was smelling, but it was undoubtedly you. Slughorn waddled over to the Slytherins and asked Blaise, Pansy, and then Mattheo. As Mattheo’s nostrils flared and he glared at his professor, Slughorn took a step back. “Ah, well, some things are better left unsaid, hmm, Mr. Riddle?”

Of course, Theo and then Enzo and then all of his friends wanted to know what he smelled. He refused to tell them

Mattheo found you in the library one day. It was growing colder and so you were bundled up in a sweater of your house colours. He had made sure not to smoke that morning because he knew you hated the smell. For once, the son of the Dark Lord was nervous. He had never been anxious around girls before

He stood in front of your table until you glanced up and noticed him. “Hey,” he greeted in a mutter. You repeated the word and invited him to sit. He shook his head and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Nah, it’s okay. Uh, I actually… Well, I wanted to thank you, I guess.” The last time he had thanked someone was when Blaise let him borrow his quill. “For- for treating me like- uh, well, like another student.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Like normal, you know?”

“I didn’t realise I was doing anything different,” you told him. This was not a conversation you were expecting to have today

He nodded and cleared his throat. “Well, you did. So… thanks.” He pressed his lips together and stood there awkwardly. After a beat, he cleared his throat again. “I’m gonna go.”

Mattheo had never felt such relief when, as he turned on his heel, you asked if he wanted to stay

You didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Why the hell was Mattheo Riddle suddenly acting all nice? He could be next to literally any other girl right now, ones that were probably prettier or smarter, but no. He was sitting next to you. Part of you thought it was a bet or he was drugged or something, but by the end of your study session (you were studying, he wasn’t), you couldn’t help but trust him just a little bit. Maybe that was why you said yes when he asked you out on a date

You only told your closest friends what was happening. If your roommates found out, you were sure the entire castle would know by breakfast. You didn’t wanna put that on you or Mattheo. That exact reason was why he didn’t take you to Hogsmeade or somewhere public

Your first date was in the Room of Requirement. Mattheo had turned the place into a comfy little room with a sheet draped over one wall to act as a projector screen for the movie he had chosen. It was oddly charming, especially knowing he could’ve made an actual projector screen appear with fancy movie theatre chairs, but nope. Instead, there was a bundle of blankets and pillows which were constructed into the comfiest seating arrangement ever. It was not what you had expected from the boy who had millions to his name

It was not the Mattheo you had seen snog a girl at a party before, hands groping along her chest. It was the Mattheo who was nervous and seemed to actually care about you that showed up on your date. Instead of flowers he got you all the snacks and candy you could wish for

He couldn't figure out for the life of him how to work the muggle projector

You had to take over and show him. You made a playful comment about how muggleborns weren’t all useless and he muttered a sorry for his past words

He was in awe of muggle movies. He had seen a couple once or twice, but was still enraptured. It also didn’t help that he had chosen an animated film, so the entire time he was just staring up at the screen, eyes wide

At the end of the date, Mattheo revealed that it was the first date he had ever taken a girl on. “I’ve just always skipped that part, you know?” he grinned before adding, “not to sound crass or anything. Please don’t dump me.”

You rewarded his efforts with another date

Mattheo was slow to let you in. Things were very secretive when it came to Mattheo Riddle. He didn’t tell any of his friends he was dating you (to be fair, neither did you) and he did his best to not interact much outside of the dates. He was his cocky, cool, and arrogant self in class, but when evening came and he met you a couple paces from the door to your common room to take you to the Room of Requirement (that’s where most dates took place), he would whisper a compliment about how good you looked

It was clear neither of you completely trusted the other at first, but that was expected. The first couple of months were, as mentioned above, very slow going, but eventually, you two began to let the other in. You would lean against him during movie nights and he would wrap an arm around your shoulders. When the Room of Requirement became a restaurant, he would offer you his fork of pasta to try. His voice would soften as he told you about his childhood when you two were at the Astronomy Tower, looking up at the stars. You would crack jokes about how horrible he was at mini-golf when you insisted that’s what the Room of Requirement became. He would make a point of adjusting your form when you tried out pool (even if you didn’t need help at all)

As you dated Mattheo and he slowly let you into his life, you realised there was a whole part of the wizarding world you didn’t know existed. There were hierarchies and rules everyone had to follow, especially when they came from the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the rigid pureblood community. You felt so bewildered when he first mentioned this to you

Mattheo had clearly grown up in a very structured world with parents that didn’t care if he lived or died. It was one thing to grow up like Draco Malfoy where you were protected at every turn, but still attended galas and dances; it was something entirely different to be Mattheo Riddle who was passed around from obscure relative to relative as his mother rotted in Azkaban and his father still held power from beyond the grave over all of the homes Mattheo visited. He had never really fit in anywhere because everyone he stayed with had been a follower of Voldemort, so it was like there was a power imbalance between this kid who held the Riddle name and whatever adults he was staying with. It led to none of the adults really lecturing him or teaching him what was wrong or right. The places he stayed were never a home, they were just a house he slept in. He had finally moved in with the Malfoys when he was seven and had been introduced to his half-brother, Lorenzo, who he hadn’t even known existed

The Malfoys finally gave him some structure, but they still clearly favoured Draco over any of the boys. Lucius was pissed that Bellatrix had basically just dumped her kids onto him (this isn’t what he had signed up for when he married Narcissa), though did feel as if it was an honour to raise the son of his late Master, whereas his wife was a bit more accommodating

That was where Mattheo mostly learned about the expected way he was supposed to act and the true gravity of his father’s name. Lucius Malfoy loved to lord Mattheo’s lineage over the young boy and whip him into shape

You learned that yes, Voldemort was back, and it was the summer between your fourth and fifth year that Mattheo had finally met his dad for the first time in his life

It was clear by the way Mattheo would shut down and his voice would lower when he talked about Voldemort that it was a touchy subject. He didn’t get into much detail, especially at the beginning of your relationship, but you could tell that he had been through much more than any teenager should have

You knew that Mattheo stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas and hardly got any presents (except a few snuck in by Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore because there’s obviously a plan in place for students with rough home lives like Mattheo). You also knew that he detested summers, much like a friend of yours, Harry Potter, did

Mattheo Riddle would tell you all of this, and then pretend not to know you during classes. At first, you didn’t mind and would do the same, but eventually, as months passed, you couldn't help the sting that followed when Mattheo would only glance at you with that dead-eyed stare in the halls. That’s what led him to make your relationship public

You had revealed to him your feelings one day after another movie night in the Room of Requirement. You were laying between his legs and he had begun to knead your thighs when you tensed up. It led to an awkward conversation, but one that needed to happen

There was no over-exaggeration of your relationship to make it public. Mattheo simply began hanging around your desk before and after classes, draping an arm over your shoulder, and spending more time with you – all things he had wanted to do when your relationship was private. Of course there were some mutterings around the castle, but his friends weren’t the most perceptive

The signs were there in front of them: he had stopped smoking as much, was spending less time around them, and seemed overall happier. But it wasn’t until one day, when they were all in the common room that they figured it out. Mattheo checked the clock and pushed himself off of the couch. “Alright, I’m gonna go,” he said

“Your entire social life is in this room. Where’re you going?” Draco asked as he took a sip of butterbeer

Mattheo shrugged and said, “out with Y/n. She’s gonna teach me muggle games.”

Four heads whipped towards him and Pansy and Daphne nodded before continuing their conversation. “L/n?!” Draco asked as Theo demanded, “when have you been hanging out with her?” At the same time, Enzo exclaimed, “out? Are you dating?!” and Blaise scoffed, “you’re kidding, right?”

Mattheo, who was shrugging a light jacket on (because the castle got cold in February), turned back towards his friends, an eyebrow raised. “Uh, yeah? Y/n? We’ve been dating for like, four months now.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us?!” Theo gasped out

“I haven’t fucking hid it,” Mattheo said. He waved a hand at Pansy and Daphne. “They knew!”

The rest of the Slytherin boys rounded on the two girls. “You knew?!” Draco’s voice only kept getting higher

“Duh,” Pansy rolled her eyes. “It’s pretty obvious.”

Daphne nodded along, painting her nails. “We haven’t met her yet, though. Riddle’s very protective over his lady,” she sang out. “We could meet her today,” she suggested with a sly grin. As all of the Slytherin boys voiced their agreement, Mattheo glared at Daphne

That’s how you ended up teaching the majority of the sixth-year Slytherins how to play Uno

Mattheo was highly disgruntled by the entire thing and kept muttering to himself. He only shut up when you kissed his cheek. Theo and Draco were in constant argument over the rules, since you had taught them “street rules” and were too busy explaining to Enzo how the reverse rule worked to mitigate their argument. Daphne and Pansy had teamed up to try and Blaise was weirdly good at it

They didn’t even seem to mind that you were a muggleborn

As all people are, Mattheo Riddle was a nuanced person. He was sarcastic, witty, and hot-headed, but also touch-starved, flirtatious, and confident. He had his ups and downs like anyone and the two of you managed all of your combined emotions together

People definitely noticed the changes in Mattheo. Whereas he used to slouch in the back of the classroom, staring daggers at anyone who dared interrupt him, he instead made more jokes with his friends and it wasn’t uncommon for his sharp smile to lift his lips

He grew more cocky and he attributed it to the fact that you were on his arm. He loved to flirt with you, even though you were already dating. He would make cheeky little comments and provocative jokes that had him waggling his eyebrows at you

You once made a comment about how you thought he looked very sexy in his uniform and ever since then he had put a bit more effort into his appearance. He would put a bit of mousse in his hair and make sure his tie was knotted correctly. Quidditch kept him fit and it paid off, especially when the two of you were making out and you ran your hands over his biceps or dug your nails into his hair

Mattheo loved showing you off. He was big on PDA. Once you two had had your first kiss, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. His arm would be around your waist, a hand resting on your hip as you walked through the corridors. If it was a weekend and you didn’t need to wear your uniform, he would slip his hand into your back pocket. He adored the thrill of dragging you to a secluded little corner and snogging, even if you warned him that someone could find you 

He had broken off all of his past flings early in sixth year, before the two of you even started dating and if any one of them made a snarky remark about how he had downgraded, he was quick to storm up to them and start a shouting match (he would never hit a girl, but he would track down their boyfriends if they had them and beat them to a pulp)

Yes, Mattheo still did get into fights even though you two were dating. He had gotten really sullen after the first time it had happened while the two of you were together, like he was expecting you to break up with him, but when you had simply nodded along to Madame Pomfery’s instructions on how to apply to healing cream she had given him, he relaxed. Now, it was common for him to go to your dorm instead of the hospital wing

His tendency for fighting had decreased, mostly because he didn’t go looking for them anymore, but he would still square up if anyone said anything. He tried not fight in front of you, though

His biggest turn on was when you wore his Quidditch jersey with his last name on your back

He liked to listen to The Smiths and really connected with their music

Mattheo also liked to draw. He was oddly good at it and would draw hazy scenes from your relationship where one couldn’t tell who the people were, but you could recognise the Astronomy Tower from your dates

He kept one of your hair ties around his wrist. It was a silent reminder to everyone that he was taken and he liked to play with it during classes

He was obviously incredibly wealthy. All of Bellatrix’s money went to him while she was in Azkaban and the Blacks were one of the most affluent wizarding families. That, combined with the money Voldemort had amassed when he was in power was enough to last Mattheo generations. He also had many properties to his name all over Britain, but wouldn’t get ahold of them until either his parents died, or he turned of age

Mattheo really liked the slow moments with you. He loved to lay his head in your lap or lay on top of you and have you trace the scars on his body. It made him feel better about the scars he had gotten from fighting or his father, now that Voldemort was back. He would never ask for it, but he would always look up at you a bit expectantly whenever he wanted it. However, he would never let you touch his forearm where the Dark Mark was. It was clear he was ashamed of it and didn’t want you to think of him in that way

As sixth year winded down, Mattheo got more and more on edge. He was in the tower when Dumbledore died and he was eager to get onto the train back to Platform 9 and 3/4 when the year was done. He hated the idea of going back to Malfoy Manor where both of his parents now were. You wanted him to spend the entire summer with you, but he knew his parents would never allow that. Instead, he got Blaise to say Mattheo was staying with him and his family for three weeks, when in reality, Mattheo was with you. Blaise’s mother had no ties to Voldemort, so she was fine with her son’s lie

The weeks Mattheo spent with you were heaven in his eyes. The world seemed brighter and later, he would tell you they were the only weeks of the summer he allowed himself to remember

You showed him all around the muggle world and it was glorious. Mattheo could leave his last name behind, especially because your family didn’t have a clue what the Riddle name meant. You had told your parents that Mattheo had a difficult home life and they were more than accommodating

He got to sleep in your bed which was the highlight of his time (not because of the sex – though that did happen — but because of the proximity to you)

On the day before he had to go back to Malfoy Manor, Mattheo took you aside and quickly pleaded with you not to attend Hogwarts for your seventh year. “Y/n, I can’t fucking put you in that position,” he muttered, gripping your hand. “I- I can’t save you from everything that will happen.”

Yet, he understood why you had to go. Mattheo attended with you and you saw a different side of your boyfriend. You saw the side that grew up with the hierarchies and Sacred Twenty-Eight

Hogwarts was hell. You and Dumbledore’s Army tried your best to help every underclassman you could, but many of them were scared of you because they saw you hanging out with Mattheo

Mattheo, meanwhile, was like royalty. The Death Eater teachers gave him special attention and the best grades. By proxy, you were also treated as such. Mattheo made clear from the very start that whoever touched you would face direct consequences from him. He was given the position of Head Boy and you would sleep in his private dorm every night so he could ensure you were okay

He, along with some other Slytherins, were called away every once in a while by Voldemort and that’s when you felt most exposed. The dementors seemed to gravitate towards you, as if they could feel your fear, and you even went so far as to lock yourself in Mattheo’s dorm during weekends

Things reached a boiling point towards the end of the year. The Battle of Hogwarts was inevitable. Mattheo and his friends hadn’t been in class for a week now and when the Death Eaters came marching up to the school, you could pick out your boyfriend from just the way he walked

McGonagall gave you a look when Harry Potter showed up, but you only stared back. Love would not get in the way of doing what was right

The moment the battle started, Mattheo made it his mission to find you. He dropped his Death Eater’s cloak and raced around the castle. Dodging curses and jinxes wasn’t the thing that got his heart-rate up – it was the idea that he might turn a corner and your dead eyes would be staring back at him

He found you telling off Colin Creevey for sticking around for the battle. You were near the Room of Requirement and were trying to get the young boy to Aberforth when you spotted Mattheo. The two of you collided in a hug that spoke more than you could ever say. “Oh, thank god, thank god,” you whispered over and over. Meanwhile, Mattheo was pressing kisses to your forehead, chest heaving

He nearly growled when Colin Creevey took a picture of you two

(He later got the picture from him)

You ushered Colin out to safety before turning back to Mattheo. “I’m getting you out of here,” he declared sharply. You knew better to argue

As you were running through the halls, the two of you practically crashed into the Golden Trio. You locked eyes with Hermione 

Mattheo had always had a complicated relationship with Harry Potter. He couldn't deny the jealousy he felt of Harry. Even though they were both in very similar positions and thrust into a life neither of them asked for, at least Harry had an adult support system and people who genuinely loved him. Mattheo had you, of course, but there was a father and mother figure hole in his heart he could never truly fix

After a moment of charged indecision, Mattheo stepped to the side. The Golden Trio nodded in thanks and went on their way

You squeezed Mattheo’s hand, pride flowing through you

The two of you found your way to the Great Hall. It was there that he locked eyes with his mother. Bellatrix’s eyes flitted over to you. She cast a dangerous red spell across the room and then stepped over dead bodies and rubble to get to you, slowly. “So you’re the girl that has captured my son,” she breathed out and Mattheo stepped in front of you. “Oh, come now, Matty,” she cooed. “Let me admire her.”

“Not happening,” Mattheo snapped.

“Imagine my surprise,” Bellatrix continued, “when I find out that my son is sending letters over summer to a mudblood,” she spit out. You tensed behind her and gripped Mattheo’s hand

“Mum,” Mattheo said harshly, a reminder. Bellatrix raised her wand faster than you could comprehend and shot a curse at you. Mattheo shoved you out of the way and it singed your shoulder. Before you knew it, mother and son were in an intense duel. The Great Hall parted, doing nothing but watching, as the two forces clashed. Spells lit up the room. You wanted to intervene, but couldn’t risk Mattheo’s concentration being broken

Bellatrix was a powerful witch, but Mattheo had both her blood and the blood of Voldemort running through his veins

He had no qualms when it came to killing her

The Great Hall seemed to hold its breath as Mattheo stared at the place where his mother used to stand. Slowly, his head turned to stare at you. You were quick to race over and Mattheo was eager for the comfort of your arms

During the brief break in the battle, Mattheo refused the burning of the Dark Mark. He knew his father wouldn’t hesitate to kill him due to his treachery. Instead, he sat with you as you held him close. You tried to cool the intense pain in his forearm with some spells, but it turned out that numbing the area with ice worked best. You ran your hand through his hair softly, letting him begin to process the emotions working throughout him

You said in the castle with him as Harry duelled his father. Mattheo didn’t want to see himself be made an orphan. He held no regret over what was about to happen and when his Dark Mark finally faded, both of you knew it was over

It took months to get back to normal. Mattheo didn’t want anything to do with the Wizarding World. He knew his name would follow him until his dying days. He took you to one of his properties in a far off corner of England – not to hide away in, but to recentre himself. Eventually, in the back of the garden, he erected two tombstones for his parents

Mattheo Riddle proposed to you on your fourth anniversary when you both were twenty. Your wedding was a small affair, but he couldn’t help but admit he loved to see all of his old friends again. There was a weight off of everyone’s shoulders that made it more light-hearted

He hired Colin Creevey to be your photographer

Mattheo took your last name but kept Riddle as a middle name. He couldn’t completely part from it

His favourite part of your wedding (apart from the wedding night) was having the first dance with you as husband and wife

After a couple more years, you two moved back into the Wizarding World. You bought a house on the outskirts of a small wizarding community where the war had hardly touched. It was a lovely place for friends to stop by and was very homey

Mattheo spent his time loving you. Mornings were slow and calm and both of you needed that time to unwind and be young again

He would come up behind you in the kitchen and weave his arms around you

Mattheo liked to slow dance with you in the living room

He also gained a greater appreciation for muggle things and liked to incorporate them into your house

He liked to work with his hands, even though he could easily use magic. He built a storage shed in the backyard

Mattheo also joined his friends weekly to play Quidditch just for fun. It got him out of the house and really did help his mental state

Theo and Enzo were the people most likely to drop by randomly and you were all too happy when Daphne and Pansy tagged along

When Draco had Scorpius and you went over with food and to meet the baby, Mattheo was terrified to hold the kid. Seeing you hold the kid however… ooh you had a fun night when you got back home

His proudest achievement was definitely being your husband

Mattheo began writing letters to Harry Potter and the pair met up every once in a while in Diagon Alley

Hermione, now Minister of Magic, pardoned Mattheo soon after she came into office and spoke highly of him to the press. Neither you or Mattheo attended the ceremony, but you did send Hermione your thanks and love

War had aged Mattheo and you. Trauma was a complicated thing that waned in its healing. Nightmares plagued him more than they did you and while he knew they would never go away, things had gotten much better as time went on

They were surprised to find out you were from the UK. Well, one was. The other smiled and said Jacob had mentioned he’d hired a baker from his homelands. 

Jacob was with his wife, Queenie, who you’d only had the pleasure of meeting twice. Once on the day of your interview – she helped you nail it. And once when Mr Kowalski had worked late and even you had struggled to kick him out of the kitchen. 

You served them their pastries with a smile and told them, if they could wait a couple minutes, you could use the phone in the back and call Mr Kowalski. They had agreed and thanked you. 

However, just as you finally got through to Mr Kowalski’s home and managed to mention the names ‘Newt’ and ‘Theseus’, he shouted down the phone in excitement, called for his wife and then hung up. 

“He said he’ll be here within ten minutes-” 

Your sentence had fallen through when you walked back into the shop front and felt an intense atmosphere settle into your bones. Newt and Theseus were slowly standing from the small waiting counter, making their movements as quiet as they could. 

Meanwhile, there were three customers seemingly looking around the bakery. They set you on edge a little, but rather than rush the moment, you tried to act as normal as possible. 

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

The three men looked towards you and, unlike the smiles of Newt and Theseus, theirs set you on edge. “I’ve heard these are excellent pastries.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Perhaps there’s some more in the back? Perhaps a fresh dozen?”

You looked to Newt and Theseus who subtly nodded. But, as you were about to agree and move to check, you heard a chime from the back door. To which, no voice of happiness followed. 

It wasn’t Jacob or Queenie. 

“Actually, sir, we were just about to close for lunch. And those pastries aren’t the freshest. Perhaps you can come back later?”

“I don’t think so, doll.”

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a loud crash. Pastries flew everywhere. You weren’t exactly sure what was happening, but as a guy held up a…wand? You reached for the hot skillet, covering the handle with a tea towel, and hit the fourth guy with it. 

He screamed in pain as the hot, fresh jam seared through his skin. 

You ducked as he yelled something and a bright light came from his wand. You swung the pan at him again and the wand fell from his hand, snapping in two under your heel. 

“Get down!” Theseus yelled and, somehow, you knew it was aimed at you. 

So you did. 

A moment later, the jam-guy fell to the floor as if he’d been frozen in time. 

Standing back up, you watched as more lights zipped around the bakery; breaking glass, exploding pastries, staining the walls. 

You were left on your own as one of the other men started firing at Theseus, whilst another did the same to Newt. 

The third was left, trying to sneak up and help the first. So, you took your chance. 

With a swift hit, you knocked out Guy 3 with the skillet. Guy 1 paused for a moment and Theseus took his opportunity; just before you were hit with a streak of light, Guy 1 was sent out into the street and, finally, Guy 2 fled. 

Both yourself, Theseus and Newt walked to the broken window to see Guy 2 land beside 1 just before they turned into…dust? And floated into the air and fled the scene entirely. 

“Nice swing,” Theseus complimented as he turned and looked at you. 

You were shocked, to say the least. Tired and…shocked. 

“Thanks.” You took a breath. “Want to tell me what the hell all that was about?”

Before either of them could answer, Jacob and Queenie slowly walked past before walking through the door. 

“What…”

Newt smiled before rushing over and hugging both Jacob and Queenie who smiled at seeing him, but looked worried for the bakery. 

That was when you watched Queenie and Theseus magically set everything back into place as if nothing had ever happened. Meanwhile, you walked into the back and found Guy 4 still covered in jam and frozen in place. 

“Oh, my god.” Mr Kowalski said as he stood beside you. 

“Oh, my!” Queenie covered her mouth. 

“What happened?”

You held up the skillet. “I, uhh, hit him.”

Behind both of you, Theseus chuckled. “She’s quite lethal with that thing.”

“You okay, sweetie?” Queenie asked you, touching your upper arm. 

You nodded, “Yeah. But I’ve got a lot of questions, though.”

“Naturally,” she nodded. “How about we all take a seat and…talk?”

That was how you found out that magic was real. Witches, wizards, magic schools, spells, enchantments, mind reading, all of it. All of it was real. 

And you’d just saved the Head of the British Auror office with a rather hot skillet of jam. 

And it wouldn’t be the only time in the following three weeks. 

There was a growing battle to find some ex-lover of a Professor at Hogwarts which was a school for witches and wizards from the UK. He was an incredibly bad man and it was only a matter of time before things all went to shit; like World War shit. 

It was determined after two days that the safest place for both Jacob and Queenie was Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds. And, considering you’d saved Theseus’ life, and managed to accept the whole Witches and Wizards’ thing pretty quickly, you were brought along, too. 

Which turned out to be a pretty good decision. 

More than one bakery-like battle took place and, whilst you were only a ‘muggle’, you were also only just a muggle. It meant you were underestimated and managed to fool at least two random supporters of Grindlewald’s into believing they’d walked into the wrong store. 

Sadly, your picture was also connected to Dumbledore supporters so then you were also hunted by Grindlewald’s people, eventually. 

After three weeks, things were still headed in a terrible direction, but small parts of hope still lived on. 

The last battle had just taken place inside of Abaforth’s pub. Chairs and tables were being put back together around you, Abaforth, Dumbledore, Newt and Tina (his partner and also head of the American Auror office) were talking quietly in the corner. 

Jacob and Queenie were in the kitchens, making food for everyone which Abaforth had reluctantly agreed to, meanwhile you were cleaning Theseus’ wounds. 

“I suppose you’ll live,” you said, placing the cap back on the healing balm you always carried with you. 

Being a baker meant a lot of sauce burns and a couple of scrapes to your hands. So, after the sixth time, you’d decided to make your own balm. It was much cheaper than buying it. 

“Honey?” He asked, recognising the smell. 

You nodded, pocketing the balm. “And yarrow. Excellent for healing and preventing infection.”

Theseus smiled. “Thank you.”

“Always happy to help.”

Suddenly, Abaforth appeared beside both of you and the room between yourself and Theseus expanded as you both leaned back. Abaforth, watching both of you with judgement – though you wondered if that was just his expression – reached for the bowl and cloth of warm water. 

“Are you sure you’re not a witch?” He asked you. 

You shook your head as Theseus chuckled. “I’ve asked her the same thing, but she says no.”

Abaforth grunted before walking away. 

Theseus moved close to you as Abaforth walked away, except, before he could say anything, Dumbledore called you both over and gave you, Jacob and Queenie a proposition. 

Move to England. And open a chain. 

“You’d be much safer closer to Hogwarts and we can keep you protected.”

“Of course, MCUSA can protect you in the States, but Professor Dumbledore is right. Hogwarts might just be the safest place.”

It only took Jacob a few moments to decide. Hogwarts was safe, but his home was in New York. 

But a chain wasn’t a bad idea. 

A month later, you found yourself running the second location of Kowalski’s bakery in Hogsmeade. 

And, despite the distance of his office from London to Scotland, you had one very regular customer. 

It had taken some getting used to, having people appear at the fireplace in the waiting area of the bakery, just between the to-go bags and fresh danishes. 

But, apparently news of some excellent bakery items had travelled rather quickly. 

You’d been running the place for just half a year when one evening as you were cleaning up, you heard the familiar woosh come from the hearth in the front of the bakery. 

“I’ll be with you in just a second!” You called out. “But you should know the fresh produce of today is gone! We only have– Theseus.”

There he stood, broad and tall, with a polite look on his face. “Hello.”

“Hello,” you replied. He seemed nervous. 

“Hi.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “You said that already.”

“Oh, right. Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

“Is there something I can help you with? I’m afraid we’re all out of breakfast pastries.”

Theseus chuckled and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. Okay, he was definitely nervous. 

“Yes, I-I gathered that. Actually, I’m here…well, I’m here to ask you…you see–”

“Oh, just spit it out.”

“I was wondering if you’d accompany me to dinner?” The question he asked came out rather quickly and loudly, which he seemed to be shocked by himself. “Sorry, I was…I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner as a…date?”

For a while, you stood in silence watching him. 

Over the last nine months, you’d come to learn a lot about Theseus. And you wouldn’t mind knowing more. 

“Okay.” 

He seemed rather shocked you’d responded. “Okay?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Okay.”

Then he smiled. “Okay! Okay, great! Does 7 o’clock tomorrow work?”

You nodded. “It does.”

“Great! Fantastic!”

Rather than leave, however, he still remained inside the shop. You smiled, “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”

“What? Oh, uhh,” he chuckled, again. “No, not right now. I-I should probably…go.”

You watched him in an excited tizzy that he couldn’t even start to hide. “Theseus?”

“Yes?” He nearly banged his head on the mantel of the fireplace. 

“I’ve made some stew,” you said, suddenly nervous yourself. “I know it’s not the dinner you were expecting and not date-like but if you’d like to stay…” You paused for a brief moment, correcting yourself. “I’d like you to stay…if you wish for dinner.”

Theseus smiled once more. “I’d like that.”

You smiled, thankful he agreed. “Great.”

That evening, things truly changed between you and Theseus. You were no longer just friends, thrust together in a fight you hadn’t even known was building. You were…a pair. 

A pair of people that shared a simple meal and talked. And would do the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the next and…

“Think we set a trend, honey?” Queenie asked her husband as she fixed his tie. 

Grindelwald was still on the run, but after going through so much pain, fear and terror; hope was needed. 

Yourself and Theseus had planned on waiting until things were over before you decided to set a date to get married. But after two more pans were destroyed when you knocked out another group of avid Grindelwald followers, you both decided there was no time like the present. 

Things were calm, for now.