Boundless | Mattheo Riddle

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 (𝟐𝟕)

Olympia Malfoy

The train platform was a blur of scarves and smoke and spells lifting heavy trunks into the air. Normally, the trip home for the holidays felt like a chore — full of stiff silence in the manor, barely warm tea in ornate china, and the echo of my parents' footsteps down endless hallways.

But this time? I was actually excited.

For once, I wasn't dreading the holidays. Not when I had them with me — my people. My Slytherin lot.

Draco led the way, walking like he always did — like he owned the platform and the train and probably the clouds above us. Pansy had her arm linked through his, hair glossy and perfect, whispering something that made him smirk. Daphne and Astoria flanked me, chatting about the Yule Eve dinner Narcissa was already planning. Theo was floating Blaise's luggage just to annoy him. Enzo was charming the trolley witch. And Mattheo... he walked just behind me, close enough to make my skin buzz.

I glanced over my shoulder and smiled. He caught me.

He didn't smile back — not fully — but his eyes crinkled at the corners, and I felt it like a secret only we knew.

My trunk thudded into place with a little help from Draco's wand and a big groan from Blaise. I laughed and grabbed an empty compartment before the Hufflepuffs could beat us to one. Mattheo dropped into the seat across from me, stretching his legs lazily like he had all the time in the world. It felt like our own bubble, one I didn't want to pop.

"I can't believe you're actually coming home with us," I said, nudging him with my boot.

"I can't believe I said yes," he muttered, but there was no real bitterness in it. Just amusement. Maybe something warmer.

"You'll survive. We'll sneak firewhisky into the manor and make it tolerable."

He raised a brow. "We?"

"Obviously."

It was shaping up to be perfect — a real Christmas, maybe the first one I'd ever look back on and smile.

And then Sebastian showed up.

He called my name as I was about to slide the door shut, that overly polite tone he saved for public displays. I stepped out into the corridor, trying not to already dread this conversation.

"Hey," I said softly, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

He looked... tired. But beneath it, I could feel something simmering. "Just wanted to say goodbye."

I nodded. "Right. I'll write, I guess."

"You're staying at the manor for the holidays?" he asked, voice casual — too casual.

"Yes. My mother insisted."

And then, right on cue, Draco's voice echoed down the corridor from inside our compartment.

"He'll take the room next to Ollie's, the guest suite. There's an enchanted fireplace — Father won't even know he's there."

Mattheo.

Sebastian's expression shifted instantly, hardening like stone.

"You're bringing him home?"

"I—" I blinked, caught off guard. "It's not—Mattheo's just—"

Shit.

Sebastian's jaw clenched. "You didn't tell me."

"I was going to—"

"When? After you spent two weeks pretending to be friends while sleeping in the same house?"

"That's not fair," I said, my voice tightening.

"No, what's not fair is that I've been patient. I've kept quiet every time he looked at you like you were still his. But this—" he gestured sharply toward the compartment, "—this is a joke."

I stepped forward. "It's just Christmas."

"With him. In your home. Ollie, be serious."

"I am serious," I whispered.

He shook his head, face unreadable now. "You lied to me about the party. You lied about sleeping in his dorm. You said it was nothing."

"It was nothing."

"Then why does it keep happening?" His voice dropped. "You don't even flinch when I mention him anymore."

"That's not—he wasn't even invited by me at first," I stammered. "Mother asked Draco to invite him. And he's... he's my friend."

"Your friend," he repeated bitterly. "You lied to me about parties. You lied to me about being sick. You kiss him and think I won't know. You sleep in his dorm and think I'm an idiot."

My stomach dropped. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"You don't get to play both sides, Ollie," he snapped. "You don't get to cry in my arms and laugh in his bed."

I stepped back like he'd hit me.

"You've already made your choice," he added. "You just didn't have the guts to admit it."

"Sebastian—"

"We're done, Ollie."

The words hit harder than I expected, and yet... I didn't stop him when he walked away.

Didn't chase. Didn't call out.

Because maybe deep down I'd already known. Maybe Sebastian had been slipping through my fingers for weeks, and I'd let him, piece by piece. Because it never really felt like home.

Not the way Mattheo did.

I didn't move until the corridor quieted again. Until Mattheo stepped forward, his eyes finding mine in an instant. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't push.

He just opened his arms.

And I walked into them.