Boundless | Mattheo Riddle

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐬 (𝟑𝟗)

Mattheo Riddle

Waking up felt like getting punched in the skull by a troll. Repeatedly.

I groaned, eyes barely opening as the sunlight filtered through the curtains like a personal attack. My head throbbed, my mouth felt like I'd swallowed dust and regret, and everything—everything—hurt. But the worst part wasn't the hangover.

It was the loud banging of cabinets.

"What the actual—" I croaked, rolling over just in time to see a blur of hair—Ollie—half-dressed in one of my shirts, rummaging through the bathroom like a madwoman. Bottles clinked, something clattered to the floor, and she let out a long groan.

"Baby?" I called, voice raw. "What the hell are you doing?"

She didn't even look back. "Trying not to die," she replied, voice hoarse. "Where is your bloody hangover potion? I swear to Merlin if I have to throw up one more time, I'm hexing your skull into next week."

I pushed off the covers, wincing as the room tilted dangerously to the left. "That's rich, considering you drank enough firewhisky to drown an entire Quidditch team."

"I was celebrating your win," she muttered, still digging through the cabinet. "And it was Enzo's fault. He kept handing me drinks and saying I had to honour the serpents.' I thought it was a toast. Apparently, it was a marathon."

I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled over to the doorway. She looked up just in time for me to scoop her up bridal-style, despite her protests.

"Mattheo!" she squealed. "I will vomit on you if you spin me one more time!"

I chuckled, even though it made my head pound. "Then we'll suffer together."

I carried her back to bed, placing her down as gently as I could while she clutched her stomach dramatically. I tossed her a vial I'd kept in my drawer—blessed hangover potion, courtesy of Theo's black market stash—and she gulped it down without hesitation, groaning with relief.

"You're a lifesaver," she muttered, slumping against me as I lay back down.

We lay there in comfortable silence for a while, her hand resting on my chest, my fingers drawing lazy circles on her hip. The world outside felt far away, and I wanted to keep it that way.

But of course, she brought it up.

"The fight," she murmured.

I sighed through my nose. "Yeah."

She propped herself up on her elbow, looking at me seriously now, though her hair was a complete mess. "I know Sebastian said something awful... but I hate that you had to punch him."

"I wanted to punch him," I said plainly. "He called you a slut, Ollie. I don't care if it was a whisper or a shout. He said it. And I wasn't going to let that slide."

Her eyes softened. "You didn't have to. But you did."

"I will always defend you. I don't care if it's Sebastian, a fourth-year brat, or some ancient curse—you're mine, Ollie, and no one talks about you like that." I paused. "And for the record, you didn't run back to me. You came back when you were ready. Big difference."

She stared at me, eyes full of emotion. "That's the part he doesn't get."

"That's because he never really saw you."

Her lips pressed together, and she leaned down to kiss me, slow, soft, grateful. "Thank you," she whispered against my lips.

I smiled. "You're welcome. Now, can we go back to pretending school doesn't exist?"

—

By the time noon rolled around, we were both alive again—barely. We stayed in my dorm all day, wrapped under blankets, the curtains drawn tight. Ollie had brought a stack of Muggle DVDS back from a visit to her cousin's last summer, and I let her pick whatever she wanted.

Which meant I was now three films deep into something called The Princess Diaries, and I was... invested.

She was curled up beside me, snacking on Pansy's leftover chocolate frogs, humming along to the weird orchestral music in the background. Every time she smiled at the screen, I couldn't help but watch her instead.

I reached for another snack bag and cursed when I found it empty. "We need reinforcements."

"We're not moving," she mumbled, too cosy to budge. "Call for backup."

"I'll owl Draco," I said, grabbing my wand and summoning parchment. "He owes me."

Not five minutes later, there was a knock.

Draco opened the door with a familiar scowl. "You called?"

He stepped inside with a tray of snacks floating behind him, hovering plates of crackers, fruit, sweets, and two extra butterbeers. I sat up slightly, impressed. "You're actually the best."

"I'm dating Pansy. She told me to help you two idiots." He set the tray down at the foot of the bed, then looked directly at me. His face was unreadable for a moment.

"I meant to say this earlier," he added. "Thanks... for what you did at the party. For Ollie."

Ollie perked up beside me, eyes flicking between us.

Draco hesitated, then held out a hand. "Welcome back, Mattheo. To her. To us."

I shook his hand firmly, a real smile tugging at my mouth. "Thanks, mate."

And just like that, it felt like something shifted. Not just between us, but in everything. Ollie leaned into my side, Draco left with a roll of his eyes, and we pressed play on another film.

I looked down at her, warm and safe and smiling.

She was my home. And I was never leaving again.