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

Chapter Fourteen - Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Mattheo held Emma against his chest while silence settled heavily around them, the kind of silence that only existed in the dead hours before something terrible happened. Green light from beneath the Black Lake rippled softly across the walls of her dormitory while rain whispered faintly against the windows overhead. Neither of them had slept. Every time Emma closed her eyes she saw fractured souls, silver memories, and Tom Riddle smiling beside a fire like the devil wrapped in beautiful skin.

Mattheo could feel the shift in her.

The fear.

The spiraling thoughts.

The quiet dread she kept trying to swallow down so nobody else would have to carry it for her.

Part of him wanted to slip carefully into her mind, just enough to soothe whatever storm was tearing through her thoughts. He could have. Easily. But years ago he had made himself one unbreakable rule....never enter someone's mind without permission. It sounded laughably simple for someone raised around Legilimency and manipulation, but Mattheo clung to that rule harder than almost anything else. Because every line he refused to cross felt like proof he was still becoming himself instead of his father.

Eventually he pressed a slow kiss against Emma's forehead.

"It's time."

Those pale green eyes lifted toward him immediately, still heavy with exhaustion and grief. Merlin....she was devastating like this. Wrapped in shadows and silver light with tears still faintly staining her skin, looking heartbreakingly fragile while somehow remaining stronger than almost everyone he knew.

Emma exhaled shakily before sitting up. "Okay."

Mattheo watched her pull her boots on while unease twisted harder inside his chest. He hated this already. Hated the uncertainty of it. He had argued with her for nearly twenty minutes about going tonight, insisting Dumbledore was asking too much from her again. He offered to come. Begged, honestly. Emma refused every single time.

Not because she didn't want him there.

That was the problem.

She wanted him there too much.

Emma was terrified of what Dumbledore might be walking them into tonight, and somewhere deep down she knew if Mattheo got hurt because she allowed him to follow her into danger, she would never recover from it.

He stood abruptly before she could finish lacing her boots, crossing the room and pulling her against him hard enough that she nearly stumbled into his chest. Emma immediately wrapped her arms around his waist, burying herself into his warmth while his heartbeat thundered unevenly beneath her cheek.

"Please be careful," he whispered.

Emma closed her eyes briefly.

"I'll be with Dumbledore."

"Yeah," Mattheo muttered darkly against the top of her head, "that means absolutely nothing to me."

Despite herself, Emma almost smiled.

Almost.

He pulled back just enough to look at her fully, both hands settling against her face while worry carved itself openly across his expression. Mattheo rarely let people see fear this honestly. Not Theo. Not Draco. Not even Pansy. But Emma had long since become the exception to every rule he ever made for himself.

"Come back to me in one piece."

His voice was so quiet it nearly broke her heart.

"I'm not marching into battle, Matty," she tried teasing softly, though it lacked its usual sarcasm. "You're acting like I'm about to fight a dragon."