The Arrangement (Mattheo Riddle)

Ch.12~Tangled.

I woke to the sun easing its way through the large window next to Mattheo's bed.

His bug arms wrapped around my body, holding me close. I felt... strangely at peace.

This was how it should be.

Not that I ever in my life saw myself marrying Mattheo Riddle, but I've learned to go with it. If this was the situation I was forced to live with, I wanted to make the most of it. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life miserable.

Happiness was in reach. Like last night. I found myself actually enjoying myself at the party, conversing with him, laughing with him, and definitely how the night ended.

I dreaded opening my eyes. I wasn't sure if the feelings were reciprocated. Maybe I was painting a larger imagine in my head. Maybe it was just one night of drunk entanglements.

I gently shifted my body, causing him to pull me closer. I let out a small sigh of relief.

"Morninggg" he strung out, in a raspy voice.

"Good morning to you too." I whispered.

It went silent again.

Just him and I, tangled in his sheets.

"I'm going to call Rorry for my breakfast, you should do the same. Have Teesy bring it here." He mumbled.

"Have time for me now do you?" I let out a small laugh.

"I'd like to spend time with my wife, get to know her. Is that a problem?" He lifted his head, looking at me with those deep brown eyes.

"I supposed it's not." I let out a small smile.

I wondered why the change of heart. The other night in the foyer, he made it painfully clear, he wanted nothing to do with me. Now he wanted to have breakfast in bed.

He was confusing. Hot and cold. I can't say I blame him, given everything. I decided to let it happen. Who was I to protest him getting to know me. I wasn't escaping this. It was marriage or death. I would never walk away from him alive. I knew that. I might as well live a little.

I admired his back, as he sat up to fetch the trays that had appeared at the edge of his bed. It was painfully beautiful. He was painfully beautiful.

Like a rose, with thorns. Admire from afar, but your bound to get hurt if you touch it.

His back was perfectly toned, cuts of muscle all over it. On the surface, more scars than I could count, spread across most of his body. I looked, as the sun hit it, casting an orange glow over him.

He looked over his shoulder at me, who sat with my back against the headboard, sheets covering me.

"What are those from?" I whispered, putting my finger out to trace them.

"Which one?" He let out a dry laugh.

"All of them, I guess." I said, still tracing them. Some were so deep, I didn't understand how they healed.

"My father was an angry man." He huffed, "I, was a good punching bag. The rest are from the war, or dueling."

"Your father did this to you?" I winced, trying to figure out how a father could harm their child, seeing the age of the scars, he was young.

"He did. Once upon a time." He sat next to me on the headboard, passing me a plate. "Just like, your mother did this to you." He whispered, moving my hair pointing to a scar that ran across my rib cage.

"How do you possibly know that?" My eyes grew wide.

"Happen your fifth year, when you told your mother your favorite class was muggle studies, over holiday. Enzo was livid, wouldn't shut up about how your mother cut you, and took away your wand so you couldn't heal it. Tore him up." He clicked his teeth, cutting into an omelet.

"That was nearly ten years ago?" I looked down in disbelief.

"Like I said, he was livid."

"Thats no fair. Tell me a story about one of yours now." I demanded.

"Pick one." He looked over at me.

"Fine..." there was so many, it was hard. "This one." I said, pointing to one that darted from his shoulder blade to the middle of his chest.

"That is from my father. Happened when I was seventeen, crucio hit me just right. He was angry I was asking about my mother. I just wanted to know what she was like. I never knew her. Not even her name. Said it showed weakness, he wanted to 'toughen me up.'"

My heart ached a little when he said that.

"I'm so sorry, Mattheo." I shook my head. "You deserve to know."

"I've come to peace with it." He nodded.

I can't imagine, not knowing your mother. I know the feeling of hating yours, but not knowing who was the other half that created you, and brought you into this world, that mustve left some hole.

"I'm sure she was lovely." I whispered, playing with his curls.

"Yeah. Lovely."