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

Chapter Seven - Danger Noodles

October 31st crept closer, and Emma felt the weight of it in her chest like a stone. Halloween always left her raw, her usual love of autumn turning brittle and hollow. At Beauxbatons her friends would try to cheer her, warm cider, silly dances, late-night gossip but they quickly learned it was better to give her space. Emma hated being seen fragile. She hated letting anyone see her break. And yet, at Hogwarts, all she seemed to do lately was cry.

She missed her parents with an ache so deep it felt endless. Would her childhood have been more like the Weasleys', loud, loving, full of warmth, if James and Lily had lived? Instead, there had been the Dursleys: cruel, joyless people. Emma could still feel Aunt Petunia's sharp pinches on her arm, the way her muttered insults curled like smoke around every breath. The broom cupboard under the stairs had been her entire world once. How had she and Harry endured that without breaking completely?

Now she lay sprawled in the courtyard grass, the autumn air crisp against her skin, her forgotten book rising and falling with each breath. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure her parents' faces. All she saw were blurs. Time had stolen the sharpness, leaving only shadows. She would give anything to remember them clearly. Anything for one more moment.

That darkness, her constant companion, coiled in the back of her mind, whispering, promising numbness if she would only let it in.

Two weeks had passed since she and Mattheo finally admitted their feelings. Love was still foreign territory for him, something his parents had never given him. He knew loyalty, brotherhood, friendship, but love? This was different. It was warmth spreading through his ribs, the sun burning brighter just because she was near. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. And it was hers.

Maybe, he thought, this was what true love really was.

After Quidditch practice, he went looking for her. He always knew where to find her: the courtyard, head tilted back toward the sky, book balanced lazily on her chest. Mattheo lingered a moment, just watching the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. But something was wrong. The spark in her eyes had dimmed these past few days, replaced by a haunted weight.

He knelt beside her. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his, and she let out a long sigh before curling into his arms, resting her head on his chest.

"I've missed you," he murmured.

She chuckled softly. "It's only been two hours."

"Two hours too long."

She smacked his chest playfully. "Such a clingy Matty."

He stilled, blinking. "What did you just call me?"

Emma's face flushed crimson. "Matty?" she echoed, uncertain.

He considered it for a beat, then smiled. "I like it. But only if you're the one who calls me that."

Her laugh was soft, but genuine, and she nestled back against his chest.

At meals, though, Mattheo noticed her pushing food around her plate, barely eating. By supper he'd had enough, he slipped pastries into his pocket for later. That night, Emma curled in his lap while their friends joked and teased around them. She didn't laugh, not even when Enzo attempted his infamous twerk. That's when Mattheo knew something was deeply wrong.

"Everything alright, darling?" he whispered, tightening his arms around her waist.

Emma tilted her head, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine. Just tired."

But Mattheo didn't believe her. He reached into his pocket, broke a pastry in half, and nudged it toward her lips. She shook her head, but then noticed the pumpkin pie filling. She took the tiniest bite, humming softly.