Death Eaters Daughter

20

The soft sound of the bathroom door opening broke the silence that had occupied Mattheo's room, his dark brown eyes burning into the side of my face from where I sat across the room, a book held within my hands as both my legs hung over one of the black leather armrests of the couch.

"What are you reading?" Mattheo asks as he disappears into the walk-in wardrobe.

"Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen," I reply, not looking away from the chalky white pages of the book.

I heard as he crossed the room and dropped into the black leather couch opposite me, his sable brown eyes locked on me as I continued to idly read. Reluctantly, I lifted my grey eyes from the book that I held-arching an eyebrow questioningly as I met his eyes.

"Who would've thought that Mattheo Riddle would own a copy of Pride and Prejudice," I stated tauntingly, a smirk plastered across my face as his jaw clenched in annoyance.

"You'd be surprised how accurate that book is," He utters coolly.

"You've read it?" I ask in disbelief.

Surely I'd heard him wrong.

Mattheo arched a dark eyebrow as he lazily folded his arms behind his head, the dark grey material of his t-shirt lifting up with the movement, "What better way to learn how to control my father's death eaters than that book, it is after all, about someone overcoming titular sins."

"That's what you got from Pride and Prejudice?" I question, disapprovingly.

"Isn't that what it's about?" Mattheo says, eyebrows furrowing in mock confusion.

I scoff without any amusement, "Isn't the Riddle name enough for your death eaters?" I taunt, watching as his eyes darkened with anger.

Mattheo merely unfolded his arms from behind his head, leaning forward in his seat as his eyes filled with an almost calculating stare, "The Riddle name is one many fear, yet two of my father's precious death eaters think they can control them better than me." He scoffed angrily as he turned his head to look out the large window, "Fools, the both of them."

"My money's on the one that slapped me," I mutter under my breath.

I felt as Mattheo's eyes snapped back to where I sat and away from the window, those sable brown eyes burning into me as I lifted my eyes from the faded blue book. Anger swirled in his eyes and throughout his body, the muscles of his shoulders tense as he clenched his jaw tightly. Those dark brown eyes kept me locked in place, a sense of proprietorial need flared within his eyes.

A need to know who slapped me; cutting my cheek open before he had healed the faint cut that had arisen.

"Who slapped you?" Mattheo seethed out through clenched teeth, eyes filled with unconcealed and undiluted rage.

I swallowed nervously as my fingers began to toy with the faded blue book that sat upon my lap, "The greasy-haired one," I uttered softly, the anger that filled his gravelly voice-only succeeding in waking the side of me that feared him.

"Do you have any siblings?" I blurted out, the combination of both my nerves and fear causing me to blurt the first thing that came to my mind in hopes of changing the entire conversation.

I mentally face palmed as his brown eyes momentarily filled with confusion before he quickly masked it with a smug smirk, "None that I know of," He replied dismissively, tilting his head to the side as though amused by my attempt to change the subject.

Mattheo leant forward so that his elbows rested upon his thighs, a habit that he seemed to have whenever something caught his interest, "Do you really want to talk about my family life or is this your attempt to change the conversation?" He asks, arching an eyebrow knowingly.