Mind Over Matter || Mattheo Riddle

G I R L F R I E N D

"A girlfriend?" I repeat, blinking up at him.

Riddle nods, as if he didn't just say the most absurd thing I've ever heard, and sits on the chair opposite of me. "Yes. I need one for when I go home, to my mother."

I part my lips, not knowing how to respond to what I just heard.

The idiot in front of me looks past me and at one of the bookshelves behind me, as if he's waiting for me to say something. I don't, obviously, because I truly cannot think of any words except Idiot, Dumbass, What The Fuck, Why Are You Talking To Me? Fuck off.

That doesn't sound very respectful, does it?

"My mother doesn't like when I come home without someone to speak highly about." He says, returning his gaze to match mine. "Pretty soon, she'll have me marrying my cousin. I don't want that, of course, so I need someone to be my girlfriend."

He obviously wants me to speak next, but I don't. My mind is running a million miles a minute, while also not running fast enough for me to understand anything that's happening.

"You, Thatcher. I need you to be my girlfriend."

I obviously should have picked up on that, but I clearly didn't. Not in the slightest.

I scoff, looking down at the table to avoid his eyes. "You need me to be your girlfriend? Wouldn't that only make your parents upset?" I ask, because I can't imagine a world where Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange wouldn't be mad that their son is dating a Hufflepuff. Or the fact that he would be dating a Half-Blood.

I return my gaze to his face-his stupid, perfect, horrible face-just as he begins to smirk. "That's exactly the point, Thatcher." He must see the confusion on my face, because he leans forward and continues to speak. "If I come home with someone they don't like, they'll never bring up my relationship status again. They'll be too worried I'll come back with a mudblood-"

He cuts himself off just as I raise my eyebrows at him. "Muggleborn, that they wouldn't risk me actually dating one." His idea starts to make more sense, but it still sounds completely idiotic.

"If I were to agree to this crazy plan," I start, resting my arm on the table and tracing one finger across the cover of my book, "what's in it for me?"

I didn't actually expect anything from Riddle, I meant the question to come across teasing, but he seemed to have that thought out, too. "If you agree, I'll owe you a favour. One favour."

"And this one favour must be used by the end of the school year, I imagine?" I ask, and I notice his eyes trailing down my arm, stopping at the finger still roaming the cover of my book. "And, is this favour limited to any criteria?"

He clenches his jaw as he forces his eyes away from my hand and instead back to my face, and he has to take a breath before saying anything. "Yes, you must ask me for the favour by the end of this school year. There is no criteria, exactly, I just ask that you do not ask me to do something that might end with me in a prison cell."

For the first time in six years, I felt like I had the upper hand with Riddle.

"Are we planning on telling anyone that this is fake, nothing more than a simple deal? Or is this just between you and I?" It's my final question, I think. If I were to ask anything else he might throw himself in a prison cell just to get away from me.

Riddle stands, his chair scraping the floor underneath him. "My dorm mates will know, but no one else. I don't trust anyone from this school not to sell me out to my mother, and I cannot handle another year of humiliation when it comes to her."