Mattheo Riddle - Imagines/OneShot

New Student - Pt.2

Word Count: 831

As the days followed–Mattheo Riddle's arrival was anything but ordinary. Whispers about him filled every corner of the castle. The older students swapped tales, some exaggerated and others half-true, while the younger ones speculated with a mix of fear and awe. Professor seemed to tread more cautiously, their watchful eyes lingering on the Slytherin table during the meals, where Mattheo often sat alone, despite the occasional attempts by others to engage him.

I tried to focus on my studies, pushing thoughts of him to the back of my mind, but it was impossible to ignore the tension that seemed to follow him wherever he went. It was as if the very air around him was different, heavier somehow. And yet, despite everything, I found myself strangely drawn to the enigma that was Mattheo Riddle.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting day of classes, I decided to take a walk to clear my head. The grounds were quiet, with most students inside the castle, huddled in common rooms or the library. The cool evening breeze felt refreshing against my skin, and I wandered aimlessly, letting my thoughts drift.

I found myself near the Black Lake, its surface shimmering under the light of the moon. It was one of my favorite spots at Hogwarts, a place where I could think without interruption. As I approached the water's edge, I noticed a figure standing by the shore, staring out across the lake. My heart skipped a beat when I recognized it was him.

It was Mattheo.

He was alone, his frame silhouette against the dark water, hands tucked in the pockets of his robes. He looked different here, less imposing, almost vulnerable. For a moment, I considered turned back, not wanting to disturb him, but something compelled me to stay.

I hesitated, then slowly made my way closer. He didn't seem to notice my approach, his gaze fixed on the horizon. When I was just a few feet away, I stopped, unsure of what to say. The silence between us was thick, almost suffocating.

"You like it here too?" I finally asked, I said quietly.

He turned his head slightly, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. There was a flicker of something–surprise, maybe–but it was gone before I could decipher it. "It's quiet," he reapplied, his voice low and smooth.

"Yeah," I agreed, "it helps me think."

Mattheo didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked back at the lake, his expression unreadable. I wondered what he was thinking about, what thoughts occupied his mind in moments like this. Was he as cold and detached as he appeared, or was there more beneath the surface?

"You're not afraid of me," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

The statement caught me off guard, and I blinked in surprise. "Why would I be afraid of you? Am I supposed to be?" I asked, though I knew the answer.

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound carrying on the wind. "Everyone else is," he said, a hint of cynicism in his tone. "They look at me and see my father. They think I'm just like him."

I swallowed, unsure of how to respond. "I don't know you well enough to make that judgment," I said cautiously. "But I don't believe people are defined by their parents. We choose who we want to be."

His gaze shifted to me, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that wasn't cold or detached. It was a mix of curiosity and something deeper, something that made my pulse quicken.

"And who do you think I am?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

I held his gaze, searching for the right words. "I think you're someone who's still figuring that out," I said finally.

He looked at me for a long moment, and I wondered if I had overstepped, if I had said too much. But then, he nodded, almost as if acknowledging the truth in my words.

"You're different," he said quietly, facing me. "You don't look at me like the others do."

I shrugged, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. "Maybe I'm just not easily as scared."

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It was the first time I'd seen him smile, and it was enough to make my breath catch in my throat.

"I think I might like that about you," he said.

For a moment, we stood there in silence, the weight of unspoken words handing between us. I didn't know what this meant, or where it would lead, but I knew that something had shifted between us.

As the air grew colder, and the night darkened, I realized that this was the beginning. Mattheo Riddle was a mystery, one that I couldn't help but be drawn to. And as I stood by his side, the son of Voldemort, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn't yet imagine. 

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