War, Love, and Riddle //Mattheo Riddle x OC

Chapter Five - Protect Harry At All Cost

The greenhouse was thick with the scent of damp earth and flowering dittany, steam rising faintly where water dripped down the enchanted panes. It was quiet, a sanctuary few visited at this hour.

"That's the worst I've ever seen him, Mione," Draco said finally, his voice low and tight. Hermione slid onto the bench beside him, looping her arm around his shoulders.

"Do you think he meant it?" she asked softly. "Hating Emma?"

Draco shook his head, jaw tight. "No. He doesn't hate her. He's terrified."

Hermione frowned. "Terrified of what?"

Draco leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. He rarely said these things out loud, but keeping them bottled made his chest ache. "He knows what he is. Who his father is. He's convinced that just being near Emma puts her in danger. And he's not wrong." His hand curled into a fist. "He wants to protect her, but it's killing him to stay away. And hearing she kissed Scamander...that was it for him. Proof she's better off without him."

Hermione was quiet for a long moment, her wild curls brushing his sleeve as she tilted her head. Then she spoke, voice steady, unflinching. "Emma hasn't moved on. Not really. You should have seen her face when I mentioned keeping secrets from Harry, she understood instantly. Because she's keeping one of her own. And that secret is Mattheo."

Draco looked up sharply, but Hermione didn't flinch.

"I'll be honest, Draco," she continued. "They shouldn't be together. Not with who they are. A Potter and a Riddle? It's doomed before it even begins." She drew in a breath, her brown eyes sharp. "But hearts don't care about curses or bloodlines. Emma feels it. Mattheo feels it. And if they keep circling each other like this, it's either going to destroy them both..." Her voice softened, almost reluctant. "...or it will be something extraordinary."

Draco's chest tightened. He thought of Emma's bright green eyes, the way Mattheo's entire façade cracked whenever she was near. He wanted to scoff, to dismiss Hermione's words as Gryffindor idealism. But deep down, he feared she was right.

He reached for her hand, grounding himself in her warmth. "You and I were never supposed to happen either."

Hermione's lips quirked, bittersweet. "No," she whispered. "But sometimes the impossible is the only thing worth fighting for."

The Slytherin dormitory was unusually quiet for a Saturday. Down in the common room the usual clamor of gossip and chess had dulled to a low hum, but up here, behind the heavy velvet curtains of Emma's bed, it was just muffled sobs and the sound of Pansy's palm rubbing circles into her back. Enzo lay sprawled at the foot of her bed, still in his Quidditch jumper, one arm reaching up to hold Emma's hand where it trembled against the coverlet.

Emma's pillow was blotched with tearstains. Her hair was a dark tangle against the green silk sheets. She wasn't even crying anymore, she'd run out of tears hours ago but her face still looked as though it had weathered a storm.

Enzo's thumb stroked over her knuckles. He hated this. Hated seeing her folded in on herself like a wounded bird. And part of him hated that the reason she was hurting was always the same boy. Mattheo bloody Riddle. Enzo told himself he only cared because Emma deserved better, but in the pit of his stomach lived a truth he wouldn't admit aloud, he wanted to be the one she looked at the way she looked at Riddle.

"Hey," he said lightly, desperate to coax even a flicker of life back into her. "How about we go raid the kitchens for sugary goodness? Cauldron cakes, treacle tart..... I'll carry you there myself."

Emma cracked one eye open, her lashes sticky with tears. "It's too close to Hufflepuff."

Pansy paused mid-stroke, exchanging a confused glance with Enzo. "What does that have to do with anything?"