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

Chapter Seventeen - I Will Chose You For A Lifetime

Time seemed to lose its meaning at the Burrow.

The war still existed. Emma knew it did. Voldemort was still out there gathering followers in the shadows. Death Eaters still stalked the country. The future still waited for them with sharpened teeth and bloodstained hands. Yet somehow the crooked little house perched on the hill had become its own universe, separated from the horrors beyond its walls by nothing more than love and stubborn hope. Days blurred together beneath Molly's endless cooking, Arthur's gentle laughter, and the constant noise of people who refused to surrender joy simply because darkness demanded it. No one spoke about battles. No one spoke about death. It was as though everyone had silently agreed to steal these moments from fate before fate could steal them back.

Emma spent most of that stolen time watching Mattheo.

She watched him from crowded dinner tables illuminated by candlelight. She watched him sprawled across the worn sofa beside Harry and Ron while they argued over Quidditch teams. She watched him laugh so hard he nearly choked on pumpkin juice after one of Fred and George's old stories was retold for the hundredth time. Every time she looked at him, she felt the same painful ache settle beneath her ribs.

Because he looked happy.

Not the sharp-edged happiness he wore around her when he was trying to convince himself the world wasn't ending. Not the reckless grin he flashed before doing something stupid and dangerous.

Happy.

Truly happy.

The darkness that usually lingered behind his eyes had retreated. The tension that perpetually lived in his shoulders had eased. For the first time since she'd met him, Mattheo Riddle looked like a boy who believed tomorrow existed.

Sometimes she would catch him watching the Weasleys when he thought no one was paying attention. Watching Molly fuss over everyone. Watching Arthur smile at his children. Watching Ginny shove Ron off his chair while Harry laughed. There was always something haunting in those moments, something that made Emma's chest tighten. Mattheo never said it aloud, but she knew exactly what he was thinking.

This.

This was what he had always wanted.

Not power.

Not prestige.

Not fear.

A family.

A home.

A place where love wasn't conditional.

And every time his eyes found hers across the room, she knew he saw himself having it.

With her.

July thirty-first arrived beneath a sky painted gold by the rising sun.

Emma woke slowly, tangled in blankets and warmth, feeling safer than she had in months. The room still carried traces of sleep and summer air drifting through the cracked window. For a brief moment she simply listened to the sounds of the Burrow waking below them, the distant creak of stairs, muffled voices from the kitchen, the clatter of dishes and allowed herself to pretend this was what the rest of her life would sound like.

Then she opened her eyes.

Mattheo was sitting beside her.

A small pumpkin pastry rested carefully in his hands.

A single candle stood in its center.

The moment he noticed her watching him, a soft flame flickered to life at the tip of his wand and the candle began to glow.