i'm trying to forget
in which mattheo riddle haunts your every move...
PAIRINGS: mattheo riddle x ravenclaw!reader, mattheo riddle x fem!reader
WARNINGS: yearning final boss, overthinking, angst, mentions of death, TENSION, oblivious reader, dramatic love confession, fluff ending
WORD COUNT: 6.1k
🎶 : october - joey madeline
AN: 🩵♥️💛💗 - i love this one so so much!! hope you enjoy!!
Hogwarts, October 1995
“What the bloody hell is on your neck?”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Explain.” Roger was apparently in no mood for comedy. His lips were quirked in the same way as when you were children and he was seconds away from throwing a temper tantrum.
“Really, Roger, at your ripe age, you should have better manners. Did Mother and Father teach you nothing?”
“I’m waiting.” His foot tapped impatiently against the floor, arms crossed.
You frowned, disappointed that he hadn’t taken the bait and blown his top. “It’s a scarf. Is that alright with you?”
“I know it’s a scarf, you ninny.” He practically hissed. “But why- It’s a-”
Cho sighed, patting her friend’s arm sympathetically. “Why are you wearing that scarf, babe?”
“Oh.” You looked down, giggling to yourself at the deep green and silver. “Must’ve mixed them up.”
“Mixed them up?” Roger looked as if he was going to faint. Good, served him right for being so dramatic. “Are you implying-”
“Calm down,” Cho whispered. “She’s obviously joking.”
“Exactly.” You smirked.
Roger sat down, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. “Did he give it to you?”
“I’ll have you know this is Zabini’s.”
“Like that’s any better.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” You took a bite out of your muffin. “I don’t know why you’re upset. You’re not playing today.”
“You’re one to talk about manners.” Roger scoffed. “Mother would have your head if she saw you talking with your mouth full.”
You grinned wolfishly, giggling when Roger groaned. He was so easily vexed. “Mother isn’t here, is she?”
“Babe…” Cho frowned. “You’re disgusting.”
You shrugged, washing down your food with some tea. “Sue me.”
“You know, out of Slytherin and Gryffindor, I would rather have you root for the latter.”
You muttered under your breath. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“I’ll have you know that I-”
“You’re being rather emotional, that’s all I’m-”
“Alright.” Cho’s voice cut through the bickering. “Enough. Just eat your breakfast without arguing for five seconds.”
“Yes, Mum.” You wiggled your eyebrows.
Cho stifled a laugh behind her hand, but Roger, it seemed, would not rest until he knew the truth. “Why are you wearing it?”
To be completely honest, it wasn’t as interesting a story as you were making it out to be. You hadn’t shagged with a Slytherin; in fact, you hadn’t shagged anyone at all. You’d simply been walking down the corridor when Mattheo Riddle had seen you shivering.
He’d frowned when he’d seen you, a reaction you couldn’t help but laugh at. “Am I that appalling this early?”
“Don’t fish for compliments, Davies. It doesn’t suit you.” He gestured to your neck, laughing ever so slightly. “Forget your scarf, have you?”
“I was running late.” You stuck your tongue most unelegantly.
Perhaps not the best course of action. Anyone who was anyone knew of your crush on the boy, and sticking your tongue out like a child wasn’t a sure-fire way for him to fall in love with you. “It’s too late to go back now, I’ll ask Roger for his when I get to the hall.”
“Here.” He opened his book bag, digging through until he found his own scarf. “I won’t need it today.”
You were sure this was a dream. “Riddle-”
“Are you so stubborn that you won’t accept a gift?”
“No, it’s just-”
“Davies.” He raised a brow, annoyed with your resistance. “Just take the scarf.”
“Fine.” You whispered, snatching it from his outstretched palms before he could take it back. “Thank you.”
He had no idea what he’d done to your stomach, how it had been twisting in knots ever since. How you swore he’d been watching you as you ate your breakfast. A hand waved annoyingly in front of your face. “Hello? Are you still with us?”
You glared at your brother. “I happened to forget my scarf. Blaise saw that I was cold and offered me his, like a gentleman.”
“Oh.” He nodded slowly, like he was deliberating whether he was fine with it or not. “I can allow that.” You rolled your eyes, officially tired of your brother’s antics. “Don’t know why you were so adamant about not telling me.”
“Well, when you have a drama queen for a brother, you can never be too careful.”
“We should get going.” If Cho had been done with you both before, she looked entirely exhausted now. Roger quickly shoved the rest of his food down his throat, barely offering you a goodbye before stalking out of the hall. You were honestly shocked he hadn’t choked before your very eyes.
Cho stared, squinting as if she was trying to read your mind. “That’s not really Zabini’s, is it?”
“Does it matter?” You tried your best to look tired of the subject.
“No.” She leaned forward, her voice hushed. “But if it’s Riddle’s, you have to tell me all about it later.”
You grinned, nodding. “Of course.”
The game, while entertaining, had ended terribly for Slytherin, Gryffindor’s abilities far surpassing those of the team led by Malfoy.
That had been their first mistake, electing Malfoy as their leader.
The field had been flooded with red and gold almost instantaneously. Only one Slytherin remained, angrily watching from the locker room entrance. You approached him slowly, worried he would become skittish and dart away. “You played wonderfully.”
“Yeah?” Mattheo evidently found your compliment humorous, laughing bitterly to himself. “I’ve never thought you were a liar-”
“I never said the team played well. I said that you played well.” You crossed your arms. “Take the compliment.”
“Thank you.” You nodded, standing diligently beside him, both of you watching as the crowd became increasingly disorderly. His voice was scratchy but warm, like a jumper your mother bought you years ago. Comforting, but prickly. “Are you quite warm?”
“I am.” A small smile grew on your lips. “You know, it smells like you.”
His eyebrows rose, a horrible smirk sneaking through his disappointed expression. “Have you memorized my ‘smell’ then?”
You shoved his arm, shaking your head to distract from the way your heart had stopped. “Shut it.”
“I don’t think I will. I want to hear more about how I smell.”
You dared to look over, to actually take in his face, pale, a touch of pink on his cheeks. “Would you like it back, then?”
“Threatening me now?”
“Not exactly.” You giggled. “It’s just- you look ill.”
“Ill?” He gasped. “That’s rather rude of you to say.”
“You’re deathly pale.” You teased. “Almost as fair as the winter snow.”
“I’m fine.” Not only was he devastatingly handsome, but he was as stubborn as a jackalope. “Really.”
“Oh?” Your body seemed to have a mind of its own, moving before you could regret the action. Your palms, wrapped snug in your mittens, held his cheeks like he was something precious, something worth protecting. It had felt right in the moment; he had given you his scarf to stay warm, and now you were returning the favor. “You're freezing.”
His pupils had dilated, you found as you stared into them. He must be part Veela, because there was no normal explanation for the effect he had on you. “Davies…”
You hummed, your thumb gently caressing his cheek. “Yes?”
“I’ve wanted to-”
“Davies!” You jumped back, Harry’s voice ripping you from his trance. He stood just a step away, hair a mess, his eyes glimmering, with a bright grin on his lips. “Thanks for coming!”
“Of course, Haz.” You smiled, hugging him quickly. “Congratulations.”
“It was a team effort.” His eyes quickly darted toward Mattheo. “Well played, Riddle.”
As quickly as Mattheo’s walls had tumbled down, they’d built back up, only giving Harry a slight nod in response. “I’d like my scarf back now.”
“Of course.” You carefully unraveled it, placing it gently in his arms as if it were precious. To you, it was. “I-” He hadn’t even said goodbye, just whipped around and stalked toward the castle.
Harry nudged your arm, head tilted ever so slightly. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Dunno.” You shrugged. The little voice in the back of your head let you believe perhaps Mattheo had been jealous, but the voice of reason had thought that was ridiculous. You watched as he refused to look back, his scarf smacking the grass every so often. “Sore loser, maybe.”
It was horrifying how one moment you could be so completely in love, so overwhelmingly affectionate toward a person, and the next, you couldn’t bear to look at them.
It had happened so fast, you hadn’t even registered in your mind how your fifth year at Hogwarts had changed the trajectory of your entire life. Your heart had been broken before you’d realized, every time you looked at him, a reminder of the way you’d once felt about him. What had been an innocent crush turned into this painful reminder of your naivety. You wished that you’d never entertained his teasing, that you had stayed, at best, enemies.
Most of all, you wished you hadn’t fallen in love.
Hogwarts Express, September 1998
“You’ve drifted off again.” Hermione didn’t even sound upset anymore. If anything, she sounded empathetic, pitiful. “Are you quite certain you’re ready? We could always wait - the Headmistress said that-”
“Mione.” You cut her off. “I’m fine, really. Just thinking.”
Ron hummed, not bothering to look up from his game of Wizard’s Chess as he read you to filth. “You’re a terrible liar. Riddle isn’t worth all of this, honestly. Don’t know what you see in him - he’s not the most enthusiastic to speak to.”
You scoffed, throwing your long-forgotten novel at his head. “Excuse me, how do you even know I’m thinking about that- that git?”
“You have that horrible look on your face,” Harry murmured. “The one you have whenever you think of him.”
“It’s concerning that you know my ‘looks’ that well.”
He shrugged, leaning back against his seat. “You spend a year on the run with someone, you begin to know them.”
“Yeah, well…” You stuck your tongue out. “I’m not thinking of him. So there.”
“Whatever you say, love.” He hadn’t stuck on the subject very long, determined to beat Ron at Wizard’s Chess at least once.
“But now that we’re on the subject-” The trio collectively groaned. “Do you think he’ll come back?”
“I highly doubt it.” You frowned at Hermione’s words. “He’d be quite brave to show his face in Hogwarts again.”
“Well, there you have it,” Ron smirked. He’d seen how disappointed you were by her words. It was nice to have a friend who knew you so well. “Hermione says so, so it must be true.”
“It’s kind of odd being back here, isn’t it?”
You nodded, eyes lazily scanning the hall. The sight that had once brought you joy now brought flashes of horror, memories you tried to push to the very depths of your mind. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was almost an out-of-body experience to be back in the hall you’d just watched dozens of your peers die in. To eat at the tables that had been used as makeshift beds for the injured, or worse, places of rest for the dead.
You should’ve taken Kingsley’s offer; you’d be halfway to becoming an Auror by now.
Harry, much like you, seemed to be entirely uneasy. His eyes looked glassy, much too sad for such a man his age. Too guilty. He’d confided in you how he felt that all their deaths had been on him, and they always would be. How, if he had just surrendered earlier, maybe Fred would be alive, maybe Teddy would still have parents.
You reached down, holding his hand tightly in yours. “It’ll be alrig-”
If someone asked you to describe Mattheo Riddle in one word, without any hesitation at all, you would say dramatic. Perhaps you knew him better than you thought, because in the next moment, as if sensing that you’d subconsciously missed him, the Great Hall burst open, and there, as proud as ever, he stood, draped in his Slytherin robes. The hall burst into a quiet chaos, most of your peers speaking in hushed whispers, shocked he had had the gall to return.
“You’re staring,” Harry whispered. “And you're clenching my hand so tightly I think it might fall off.”
“Sorry.” You gasped, letting go of the boy. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Don’t worry about it, love.”
You hated it, the way Mattheo still commanded your attention. He always had, since you were first years, but now, you felt entirely ashamed about it. When you used to look at him, your stomach would erupt into butterflies, and your head would become dizzy.
Now, you became nauseous, light-headed, but in an entirely uncomfortable way, like you would faint at any moment.
Hogwarts, June 1996
“Davies!” You ignored him, whipping around the corner, leaving a trail of fury in your wake. Your peers, nosy gits, the lot of them, whispered as they watched Riddle chase after you. “Davies, wait up!”
“Bugger off, Riddle.” You hissed. “I don’t particularly want to talk to you.”
“Oh?” You hated the way he made your insides turn to mush, even now when you wanted to punch his perfect nose. He walked a step behind you, allowing you the illusion that you could outpace him. “You’re talking to me now, aren’t you?”
“I swear to Rowena-” You whispered. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“What’s this all about?” He sounded as if he were frowning. Good. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks now.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation, Riddle.”
“You’re right.” Before you could even find the time to be surprised, he continued. “But I’d like one all the same.”
“You’d like one?” You stopped, your wand clenched tightly in your fist, eyes crazed as you whipped around. “Well, since you’d like one, let me explain, Your Highness.”
His eye twitched ever so slightly at the nickname, and a little drop of guilt crept into your mind. ‘Your Highness’ was the nickname most Gryffindors used to tease him about his father, whom he had gone most of his life without knowing. That nickname, while horribly rude, had not hurt him an eighth of the amount he had hurt you. “Davies-”
“You called me a pompous, arrogant brat, who would most likely never amount to anything but living in my brother’s shadow.” His face paled, and you found satisfaction in knowing that he was embarrassed. “Then, when Malfoy, Malfoy of all people, told you to stop, you kept going, saying that you couldn’t believe that you ever thought I was attra-” Your eyes welled, voice catching. “You couldn’t ever believe you thought I was attractive.”
“Davies, please-”
“I don’t want to see you ever again.”
“Love-”
“Don’t.” You raised your wand ever so slightly, finding satisfaction when you saw the smallest flash of fear in his eyes. “If you ever so much as speak about me, Rowena, if you even think of me, I will find you and I will make you wish you had never opened your pompous, arrogant, evil mouth again.”
His mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to argue. It was horrible, the way hope seemed to burst through you. The worst thing about it all was that if he had just apologized then and there, you would have forgiven him, no questions asked. But then, in true Mattheo Riddle fashion, he nodded, crossing his arms. “Fine.”
Hogwarts, October 1998
Rumors were bound to spread; the whole of Hogwarts was desperate for any sort of gossip. You often wondered if anyone ever learned anything, because all you heard your fellow students talk of was who was shagging whom, and who had broken yet another of Snape’s cauldrons. (Well, now it was Slughorn, but the sentiment remained the same.)
Most, if not all, of the rumors could be traced back to his father. The most popular had been that he had been Voldemort’s executioner during the war, personally seeing to the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Muggles and magical beings alike.
The worst of them, the one that had made you feel truly horrible for him, was that Mattheo was not himself at all, that Voldemort’s soul, in the last second, had possessed him, as if he were nothing more than a host body.
Some poor first year, clueless to your connection to the boy and simply trying to participate in the Hogwarts rumor mill, found himself on the receiving end of a passionate rant about misinformation, the entire common room watching in moderate horror as you went on and on about how it’s not fair that we judge him by his parents.
Classes seemed to flash by; most of the information you already knew. Reason number two thousand, you should have joined the Aurors when you had the chance.
Most of your days were spent in the library, simply staring out the window, thinking. Thinking about how the only reason (not that you’d admit this to Hermione) that you’d come back was to see him, to know that he’d survived, that his father and his men hadn’t finished him off. School itself was behind you; it had been since you left with the trio the summer before your seventh year. First Ravenclaw in history to drop out, or so Roger had said.
“Davies.”
Of course, he had finally gathered up the courage to talk to you today of all days. You stood, clutching your books to your chest as if they were some sort of shield. “Riddle.”
He looked entirely uncomfortable, swaying back and forth to distract from the feeling. Served him right, you thought to yourself. “You look well.”
You couldn’t help but smile, trying to show that there was no ill will. At least, not as much as there had been last time you’d talked. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been a coward.” He practically blurted it out, eyes wide as if he was shocked by his own actions.
“Oh?” You stepped around him, finding pleasure in the fact that he instantly followed after you. “Do tell.”
“You must know that I’ve wanted to talk to you for years.” Your heart clenched, the desperation in his voice odd, something you had yet to hear from the man. He was stoic by nature, scared to let anyone in.
“What stopped you then?”
“I was scared.”
The second time today, he had shocked you. Mattheo Riddle, one of the best duelers you’d ever seen, probably one of the most powerful wizards of your time, was scared of you. “You’ve got to be joking. If anyone should be scared, it should be me of you.” You leaned closer, as if you were telling him your darkest secret. “You are, after all, the son of Lord Voldemort.”
He laughed. “Have they gotten to you then? The rumor mills?”
“They’ve tried. Luckily for you, I don’t fall for childish gossip quite so easily.”
“Luckily for me, indeed.” He smiled, the first true smile you’d seen on him in years. “I wanted to apologize for what I did.”
“Mattheo-”
“Just…” He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to a stop. The corridor was busy, and students pushed past you, staring while they whispered much too loudly. You could imagine the headline now, Ravenclaw’s Pride and Joy pulled to the Dark Side. “Let me apologize.”
“You really don’t need to-”
“I do.” He insisted. “I was harsh and unfeeling. It was entirely wrong of me, what I said.”
“I’ve moved on.” You whispered, wrist burning from his touch. “I haven’t thought about it in years.” Liar.
“Well, I have. It’s stayed with me like a disease. The guilt has been eating at me for years, and I cannot stand it any longer.”
He was truly oblivious to the effect that he had on you, of how deeply you still felt for him. And he never would. “There’s no need to feel guilty any longer, I swear. We were young, and you- I forgave you eons ago. I know whatever caused you to-” Your eyes watered. Merlin, maybe you hadn’t truly forgotten. “You were going through so much, and I understand-”
“That is no excuse.” He stepped closer, his breath moving the fallen strand from your braid ever so slightly. “You are making it rather difficult to apologize, Davies.”
“You really don’t need to.”
“Regardless, I am sorry.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. “So deeply sorry.”
“I know.” You smiled. “Can you promise me something?”
“Anything.” Your heart clenched at his quick response. “I’ll do anything.”
You tried to sound as serious as you could, but his eyes trained on you made you loopy, grinning like the girl he’d known only three years ago. “No more moping, and no more feeling guilty.”
He nodded, holding his right hand to his heart. “As you wish, love.”
Hogwarts, April 1996
“You look on edge.”
You fought the urge to scowl. “What do you want, Riddle?”
“I-” The boy’s mischievous smirk faltered. “Is it so bad that I wanted to see you?”
“Yes, it is.” Your eyes darted toward the Room of Requirement, a sigh of relief escaping as the door melted back into the brick wall. It was ingenious, one of Hogwarts' many wonders. “I have plans.”
“Plans?” His eyebrow rose ever so slightly. “How vague.”
“They’re vague because they don’t concern you.” Your patience was growing thin.
“Oh?” He stepped closer, his cologne rendering you utterly defenseless. “Are they urgent?”
Malfoy’s horrifyingly yellow hair rounded the corner, eyes fixed on the wall that led to the entirety of the DA. Was that- your heart clenched. Shoved around in Filch’s grimy hands was a sobbing Cho Chang. “I really need to be going-”
“Let me accompany you.”
He sounded a little too eager. Had Umbridge sent him to distract you from helping your friends? You raised an eyebrow, curious to know the truth. “Why are you so interested in me all of a sudden?”
“I’ve always been interested in you.” He spoke so casually that you almost missed the meaning behind his words. “You’re an interesting woman.”
“Sure.” You laughed. “About as interesting as a teaspoon.”
God, his eyes bore into your soul. You were sure he could read your thoughts at that very moment, the way his gaze searched yours. “Depends on the teaspoon.”
Hogwarts, October 1998
“I’ve heard something.”
“Oh?” You raised a brow, not bothering to look up from your paper. “Do tell.”
“You and Riddle were seen talking in the corridor.”
You hummed, flipping the page. “Never took you for a gossip.”
“Well?” He leaned forward. “What happened then?”
“Ronald.” You folded the paper gently. “Must you pry into my affairs?”
“I’m not the one who had a very public conversation in the busiest corridor at school, now am I?” He smirked. “Out with it.”
“If you must know-” He nodded, hanging on to your every word. “He apologized.”
“Did he?” Rowena, he was way too smug. “How mature of him.”
“Quite. Now can I eat my breakfast, or will the interrogation continue?”
“Interrogation?” Hermione plopped down beside you. “What interrogation?”
Harry nodded, filling his plate. “I’m curious.”
“Stay curious.” You glared. “You lot are a bunch of nosy-”
“No need to be so hostile.” Ron teased. “Friends tell each other things, Davies.”
“I’m not telling, so might as well-” Ron had this horrible look in his eye, and you groaned. “Please don’t-”
“Riddle apologized to her.” You kicked his shin under the table, but he kept going. “Approached her in the hall. Apparently-” You rolled your eyes. “It was rather intimate.”
“Intimate?” Hermione laughed. “They were in the hall, Ron.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m simply relaying what I’ve heard.”
“What was he apologizing for in the first place?” Harry questioned.
“Nothing.” You looked over his shoulder, stomach flipping to find that Mattheo was already staring at you. “Nothing at all. Now if you’ll excuse me-”
Ron whined. “Don’t run away. I was just teasing.”
“Not everything is about you, Ronald.” You stuck your tongue out. “Besides, I have plans.”
“Plans?” Harry smirked. “Does it have anything to do with a certain Slytherin?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You muttered. “See you in class, Mione.”
“I’ll be right behind you.” The Gryffindor waited until you’d left the hall to reprimand the boys in front of her. “Really, you two are the worst of them all.”
“That’s rather dramatic, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t.” She watched as Mattheo raced after you, smiling to herself. “Leave the girl be.”
The Battle of Hogwarts, May 2nd, 1998
“One line!” The Ravenclaw first years stayed close as you ushered them down the stairs, gasping in fear as the castle they loved crumbled to ash. “It’s alright, everyone. Only a little longer-”
“Where do you think you’re off to, missy?” Amycus Carrow, the revolting git, stood in front of you, grinding his teeth. “The Dark Lord wants to-”
“The Dark Lord can go drown himself in the Black Lake for all I care.” One of the students behind you whined, another started to cry. “Look away, children.”
Flitwick, while rather meticulous, was a fantastic teacher. He’d seen something in you, believed in you in a way that most hadn’t. You’d excelled in his class from the first day you’d arrived, able to perform most advanced spells by age twelve. So when he’d asked you to hang back that random Tuesday, offering to give you lessons in wandless magic, you’d immediately accepted. At first, you hadn’t seen the need, but now, tasked with the protection of fifteen eleven year olds, you understood. “Don’t make me hurt you.” Protego Totalum. Protego Totalum.
“I doubt you could,” Carrow smirked, raising his wand. “Cruc-”
Thankfully, you had beaten him to the draw. “Impedimenta!”
Carrow fell with a loud thump, the children behind you cheering, jumping erratically with joy. You grinned, allowing yourself to take a breath before remembering that you were currently in the middle of a very active battlefield. “Alright, we’ve got to keep-”
A great loud yell echoed through the staircase, shocking all of you. “You- you wrench! You disgrace!” Behind you stood Alecto Carrow, Amycus’s twin sister, and, in your opinion, a conniving bitch. “Ava-”
You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that your shield would hold. Hoping that the first years would survive, and that your momentary lapse in judgement hadn’t just cost the lives of fifteen witches and wizards.
But the spell never came. Your eyes peeled open, cheeks growing hot when you saw Mattheo Riddle, in all of his glory, standing over a (you assumed) dead Alecto Carrow. “Mattheo?”
“Davies.” He grinned as he raced toward you, scanning you for injuries. “Are you quite alright?”
“You-” Your eyes welled, your adrenaline wearing off as you faced reality. If it hadn’t been for him, you would have died, most likely scaring the children behind you. “You saved us.”
“Are you alright?” His hands hurriedly searched your face, cheeks, and even your hairline for cuts. “I thought-”
“Thank you.” Melinda Turner, all four feet and two inches of her, squeaked. “Thank you so very much.”
Mattheo smiled, stepping back to wave at the first years. You found yourself almost following after his touch, wishing that you actually had a wound so he could fuss over you. “Don’t mention it.”
“He’s very brave, isn’t he?” Another whispered, causing giggles to erupt throughout your crowd. “And handsome.”
Melinda turned to you, her head tilted. “Is this your friend?”
You nodded without thinking, Mattheo grinning at the action. “He is, yes.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Another, you couldn’t figure out who, blurted.
You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s enough out of you lot.”
Mattheo nodded. “You listen to Davies, alright? She’s very brave, much more than I am.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his compliment. The first years nodded, staring up at him as if he were a god. He grabbed you hand, squeezing it quickly. “Stay safe.”
“I will.” You whispered, watching for just a moment as he raced away.
That had been the moment you'd realized your crush had never gone away, and never would.
Ministry of Magic, 2000
Robards had just dropped off the tenth box of files this morning, asking that they be sorted alphabetically and chronologically, when an owl, one you’d never seen and certainly not the Ministry’s, landed on your desk. A note was clenched in it’s beak, dropping it in front of you.
“Thank you.” You reached out, petting it gently, smiling when it leaned into your touch. “Who sent-” As quickly as the owl had arrived, it had left, darting down the hall.
You stared suspiciously at the note, wary of touching it. Cursed items were a common occurrence in the Auror’s office, and you didn’t want to take your chances. Still, you had a feeling this was not one of those sorts of notes. You opened the paper, grinning at it’s contents.
You knew that handwriting.
Meet me by the fountain in five minutes.
You grabbed your purse, pulling out your mirror as you fussed over your hair. Harry watched with amusement, shaking his head. “You’re too far gone.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He raised a brow. “So you’re not meeting Riddle?”
“Shut it.” You glared. “Don’t tell Robards where I’ve gone.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He grinned, shouting at your back as you ran away. “Have fun!”
You raced out of the elevator, smiling wide when you saw his familiar head of hair. “Riddle.”
He turned toward your voice, arms crossed, eyes mischievous as ever. “Davies.”
“To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”
“I have something to tell you.” Oh Merlin, not now, not here of all places. “Something I should have said a long time ago.”
“Don’t.” You were sure you were going to be sick. Mattheo Riddle was about to reject you in your place of work. Now, everytime you looked at the fountain, you would be reminded of the day he broke your heart for the second time. “Please don’t.”
“I have to, or I never will.” He took a deep breath. “You’re a beautiful woman, Davies.”
That had not been what you were expecting. You smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
“I have to admit, that was not-”
“And I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Holy- your breath caught in your throat. “Come again?”
“I’m in love with you.”
“Is this a joke?” You had to be dreaming. “You? In love with me?”
He nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That is what I said.”
“Don’t be cruel.” Your eyes welled with tears. “I know you have a twisted sense of humor, but this is a new-”
“I’m not joking, love. I’ve-” He frowned. “Do you really believe I would do that?”
“Mattheo, you cannot possibly be in love with me.” This was a dream; it had to be a dream. Scratch that, this was no dream. This was your worst nightmare come to life. “There is no possible-”
“Don’t tell me how I feel.” He whispered. “You might not feel the same, but I couldn’t go another day without telling you. It was maddening, being around you and not being able to- to tell you.” He took you in, as if he was trying to memorize the moment. “You left. On the night I was going to tell you, you left.”
A few weeks ago, you’d gotten dinner, and after, he’d asked if you wanted to come to his flat for a glass of wine. You’d said yes, of course, but upon arrival, became so nervous that you lied and literally ran away while he yelled after you. “I did.”
“May I ask why?”
“I-” You gulped. “I had a business meeting.”
“At half past ten?” He was now smirking.
“Yes?” Your lie was a horrible one, easily seen through. “It was sudden-”
“I’m aware.” He took a step forward, practically towering over you. “You’ve done this four times now.”
“Done what exactly?” You looked up, heart thumping against your ribs, rattling your bones. “I’m lost-”
“Funny. So am I. Everytime I try to ask you back to my flat, something comes up.”
“An Auror’s work is never done.”
“Are you avoiding me, Davies?”
“Avoiding you?” You laughed. “I would never-”
“We’ve gone out four times now, and every time I try to make a move-” He huffed. “You run off. It’s utterly maddening.”
“Gone out?” This couldn’t be real. “Make a move? What do you mean by that?”
“Dates, Davies. Keep up, I thought Ravenclaw was the smart house.”
“That’s actually a common misconception and-” You shook your head, focusing on the conversation at hand. “What the bloody hell do you mean by ‘dates'? We’ve just-” Had he been taking you to dinner with the intention of- Rowena, you felt like you were going to faint. “Do you mean-”
“Have you honestly thought I asked you to dinner four times as friends?”
“Well…” Merlin, you felt like a right idiot. “Yes.”
He laughed so loudly the passing witches and wizards jumped, staring at the obnoxious man. “Davies-” He gasped between words, giggling like he was back in school. “You actually believed I was bringing you flowers, taking you to dinner, and escorting you home as-”
“If you’re going to tease me-” You hissed. “Then I’ll be leaving.”
“Ah ah ah.” He grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could make your escape. “Not so fast.”
“Mattheo-” You whined. “This isn’t-”
“I’m going to say one last thing, and then we can never speak of this again.” His eyes were dark, darting to your lips every so often. “We can pretend this never happened.”
“Fine.” Not fine. You were very much not fine.
“You don’t need to love me back, but you must know-”
“Stop.” You smacked your hand over his mouth. “One second.”
He nodded, voice muffled from behind your hand. “Alright.”
“This is mortifying, what I’m about to tell you, so don’t make fun.” He nodded once more. “I’ve- I’ve loved you for so long that it’s embarrassing, for so long that everytime I talk about you my friends groan. I loved you even when I knew you didn’t love me, when you insulted me and I threatened you. You have been the only man I’ve ever even thought of, and-” You huffed. “All this to say, I love you too.”
He peeled your hand away from his mouth, wrapping it around your waist. You were flush against him as he leaned down, grinning wildly. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Alright, but I-”
“Shh.” He placed a finger over your lips. “Can’t very well kiss you while you’re talking, can I?”
“I mean-” He darted down, his lips colliding with yours. Your eyes practically rolled back, hands reaching up to grab his collar, trying to pull him even closer. He groaned, pinching your waist ever so slightly, grinning when you squeaked. “You-”
“What a Chatterbox you are.” He spoke as he kissed down your neck. “That will-”
“I’m at work!” Your eyes fluttered shut, relishing in the way he held you. “You cannot just-”
“Miss Davies?” You jumped, pushing the man away from you as you straightened your clothes.
“Sir.” You were most definitely fired. “I’m so sorry-”
He raised his hand, rendering you speechless. “Who is this young man?”
Mattheo grinned, extending his hand. “Mattheo Riddle, sir.”
“Ah.” Robards shook his hand, looking curiously between the two of you. “Are you quite done?”
You were sure you were dying of embarassment. “Of course, sir.”
“Well…” Mattheo whispered, and your eyes widened, elbowing him in the ribs. He gasped, clutching his side. “Salazar, woman!”
“I’ll see you back in the office.” Robards chuckled.
“I’ll be right behind you!” You whipped around, glaring at the man still reeling from your attack. “You are incorrigible.”
“And you are horribly violent.”
“Yes, well…” You frowned, taking a step closer. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” He shooed you away. “Go on then. I’ll see you later.”
“Later?”
He nodded. “I believe it's time for a proper date. ”
“Ah.” You smiled, kissing his cheek quickly. “Bye, then.”
He’d waited until you were almost back to the elevator to yell across the concourse. “You missed.”
Heat rose to your cheeks as you whipped around, glaring at the boy. “You’re relentless!”
He shrugged, grinning when you raced toward him, jumping up and kissing him once more. “Merlin!” His arms found their way back to your waist, squeezing your sides like the menace that he was. “Attacking me with no warning, might I add-”
“You’re impossible to kiss when you’re talking.” You murmured against his lips. “Do you know that?”
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