Boundless

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐘𝐞𝐭 (𝟖)

Mattheo Riddle

The common room was quieter than usual that night, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace and the low hum of drunken laughter carrying down the hall from the Slytherin dorms. Most of the castle had already passed out or staggered off somewhere they shouldn't be.

But I was wide awake.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, curtains drawn shut around me, four carefully wrapped gifts spread out in front of me like some kind of shrine. Two for my birthday. Two for Christmas. And four envelopes — one tucked with each package — in Ollie's handwriting.

I ran my thumb over the top one, the way she curled her "M" when she wrote my name. My chest tightened painfully.

She had kept them every damn year. No matter what happened. No matter how long I stayed gone.

I sucked in a breath and reached for the first birthday present — small, light. Ripping the paper carefully, like I was scared to destroy it.

Inside was a silver keychain shaped like a broomstick, engraved on the back with: "For when you come back from the skies — Ollie x"

I let out a broken laugh, tipping my head back against the bedframe. She remembered.

I tore open the envelope tucked with it, pulling out a folded card. On the front was a stupid cartoon of a dragon chasing a wizard with a cake.

Inside, her handwriting filled the card: "Happy birthday, Mattheo. Come back soon. Hogwarts isn't the same without you making bad decisions and dragging me into them. I miss you more than I'll ever say out loud — Ollie x"

I scrubbed my hands over my face, breathing hard. It felt like she had reached through time and punched me straight in the ribs. I grabbed the first Christmas gift next.

Inside was a dark green scarf— the same one I used to steal from her in winter because they were warm and soft and smelled like her. A tag dangled off them: "So you stop stealing mine, idiot – Ollie x"

The Christmas card attached was even worse.

"Merry Christmas, Mattheo. Wherever you are, I hope you're warm. And safe. And still laughing like you do when you think no one's watching. I miss you. Always – Ollie x"

My hands shook as I opened the second birthday gift. It was a photo. A moving photo. Of the two of us sitting by the Black Lake — me sprawled in the grass, her head on my stomach, laughing as I flicked water at her from my wand.

We looked... so stupidly happy.

I stared at it for a long time. Frozen in a moment where nothing had ever been wrong yet.

The card with it: "You told me once you wanted to remember a day you didn't feel trapped. Here's one. We'll have more. I'll make sure of it – Ollie x"

I pressed the photo to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut.

Last, I opened the second Christmas present. It was a book — an old, worn, leather-bound book of Quidditch moves and strategies from the early 1900s. The same one I used to drool over in the library, but could never check out because Madam Pince said it was too fragile.

Inside the cover, Ollie had written: "For the best Seeker Hogwarts never officially had. And the only person who could fly better drunk than half the team sober – ollie x"

I laughed again, hoarse, wrecked, dropping my head into my hands.

She hadn't just waited. She hadn't just remembered. She had loved me through it. Every fucking second I was gone, she had stayed.

The curtain rattled behind me, and I snapped my head up just as Theo shoved his way inside, towel still draped around his neck from the shower, steam curling off him.

He froze, towel hanging half off his shoulder as he clocked the disaster zone of paper and gifts around me.

Then grinned, slow and sharp. "Well, well. Looks like someone's drowning in feelings."

"Fuck off," I muttered, wiping at my face.

Theo threw himself onto his bed, tossing the towel aside, and laced his hands behind his head, smirking at me.

"So," he drawled, "what's the plan?"

I stared at him, frowning. "Plan?"

"For getting Ollie away from Sebastian the Human Toenail, obviously," Theo said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You didn't come back from the dead to let that cretin keep her."

I glared at him. He wasn't wrong.

Sebastian.

The same annoying bastard who used to moon after Ollie when we were kids, always hanging around, pretending to be her friend. Now he had his arms around her like he earned her.

Like I hadn't bled every day, missing her.

I clenched my fists, feeling something dark and possessive coil in my gut.

"I don't know," I muttered, voice low. "I don't even know if she wants me anymore."

Theo barked a laugh.

"Mate, she kept gifts for you for years. She wrote you love notes disguised as Christmas cards. She's just scared. Fix it."

I looked down at the gloves still sitting in my lap. Ran my fingers over the stitching.

Yeah. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe — for once — I could fight for the thing that mattered most before it slipped away again.

I met Theo's gaze across the room. His smirk softened, a rare thread of real loyalty there.

"I will," I said. "I'll get her back."

Because she was never supposed to belong to anyone else. Because she never really stopped belonging to me.

And now that I was back, I wasn't letting her go.