Mattheo Riddle is Valdemort's son.
Anna Duvall is his girlfriend.
Until a threat arrives and lingers above Mattheo's head.
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This is just a short story. I'm leaving some doors open to write a prequel, or maybe even a sequel.
English is not...
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The next couple of days passed in some kind of haze. I remembered waking up, get myself dressed, going to classes but not much more. I was in auto pilot, just passing through life like the ghosts wandering inside the school halls. Quidditch practices were the only thing taking my mind of things, numbing my soul and tiring my body. Today, nevertheless, it was not working. My mind was all over the place and I could not focus on the match, so I ended practice sooner and send everyone to the showers. Sage was not pleased. We were going to play against Gryffindor next Sunday. It was just a practice match, but still. It was against Gryffindor, so it was important. We should be training to be prepared and, as the team Captain, I should be leading them to victory.
It was late afternoon by now and I just stayed there, mounted on my broom, above the Quidditch field, suspended in time.
The sun started to set behind the mountains, the blue of the sky began to acquire a golden tone across the horizon. Golden, like Anna's hair. Everything reminded me of her. I felt a pressure starting to grow in my chest. I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw, breathed in deeply and pushed it down. To that deepest part of me. I would not allow myself to feel the pain.
I directed my broom to the floor and headed to the locker-room. Everyone was gone already. I stripped my clothes off, watching them fall to the floor and stepped into the shower, turning on the water. I pressed my hands against the wall, supporting my weight on it and closed my eyes. The water felt too warm on my skin in contrast to the cold of that hollow darkness inside of me. I just stood there, letting it rush down my body, bringing me back from the brink of that place inside of me where I didn't want to go. I didn't know how long I stayed liked that, just existing, but it was probably too long, because I felt the skin of my fingers wrinkle. And when I opened my eyes, I saw the bathroom was already filled with steam.
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Finishing the shower, I strode into the cool air of the room and dried off before dressing. I couldn't bear to go back to the common room, not when I knew there was a chance of her being there. And I didn't want to see my friends either. I rummaged through my locker, gathering my clothes. I put on my blue jeans, my black sweater and black boots.
I pulled the door of the locker-room open and left, in need of a drink. Or two. And there was only one place where I could get that: The Three Broomsticks.
