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

Chapter Six - Green Like Her Eyes

Mattheo picked Emma up, her legs hooking around his waist, her arms tight around his neck as though she'd never let go. He carried her through the common room, lips fused to hers, not caring about the unanswered questions, whether this thing between them could last, whether his father would ever succeed in tearing them apart.

All he wanted was her. Her secrets. Her dreams. Every piece of her until there was nothing left hidden, until it was just Emma and just Mattheo.

The cold bite of wood pressed against her back as he pinned her to the dormitory door, using it as leverage to keep her in his arms while fumbling it open. When they finally stumbled inside, she slid down the length of his body, lips breaking from his, leaving him groaning at the loss.

Emma's hand caught his, tugging him toward the bed, her pulse a frantic drum. She'd never felt more nervous, more aware, more alive.

They lay facing one another, Mattheo's fingers twirling a strand of her raven hair. Her green eyes traced his sharp features shamelessly, and when his gaze finally locked to hers, the air between them grew heavy.

"I swear I've tried to memorize every inch of you," he murmured. Her stomach somersaulted. "It was torture ignoring you." His voice cracked with regret. "I'm sorry, Emma. From now on, no more walls. We communicate. Really communicate."

She nodded, soft but certain.

"Just Mattheo?" she teased gently.

His lips twitched into a smile. "Just Emma."

His hand brushed her fringe aside, tracing the faint lightning-bolt scar on her forehead. Rage flickered in his chest knowing whose hand had given it to her. But then he whispered, "The only good thing about this scar is that it means you lived. That you're here with me. The girl who lived."

Her eyes softened, but before she could reply, he said simply: "Green."

She blinked. "What?"

"My favorite color." He smirked when she laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Black," she countered.

"Emma Potter, are you telling me your favorite color is black?" He clutched his chest theatrically, earning a playful slap and her nose-scrunching laugh...... the one he secretly lived for.

His finger traced that scrunched nose down to her lips, her jaw, her cheeks. "That laugh... it's my favorite thing about you."

Butterflies battered her ribs. "Sloths," she blurted, making him bark out a confused laugh.

"Sloths?"

"They're adorable! I saw them in a Muggle magazine once, don't judge me."

He shook his head, grinning. "Fine. Giraffes."

Her giggle lit the room. "Why giraffes?"

"They're majestic as fuck."

She clutched her stomach, laughing. "So majestic!"

"Coming from the girl obsessed with sloths," he scoffed, but his grin only widened.

Hours slipped by in laughter, kisses, whispered secrets. He let her set the pace, happy to follow wherever she led, terrified of losing her again.

Finally, he arched a brow. "Last question. Most important one yet."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Go on then."

"Favorite season?"

"Autumn," she said instantly, eyes lighting up. "I love the leaves changing, big sweaters, reading outside, and pumpkins...... pumpkins everywhere."