Mattheo Riddle - Imagines/OneShot

Passionate, but Guarded - M.R as a Boyfriend

Word Count: 780

The room was dimly lit, the flicker of the flicker of the fireplace casting long shadows against the ancient stone walls of the Slytherin common room. It was late, well past curfew, and most of the students had retired to their dormitories. But not Mattheo. He sat on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on knees, lost in thought.

Y/N watched him where she stood near the fireplace, feeling the tension radiate off him. His shoulders were taut, his jaw clenched, the usual sharpness in his eyes dulled by something deeper. He had been distant all evening, more so than usual, and it was starting to gnaw at her.

"Mattheo?" Y/N called softly, breaking the silence between them.

He didn't look at her, his gaze mixed on the ground. For a moment, Y/N thought he might not answer, that he would continue to shut her out as he often did when something was weighing on him.

"Go to bed," he muttered, his voice low and rough. "It's late."

Y/N frowned, stepping closer. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he snapped, finally looking at her, his eyes flashing with irritation. But beneath the anger, she could see the hurt, the conflict, the fear he tried so hard to bury it. It was there, lurking in the shadows of his gaze.

"You can't lie to me, Mattheo," Y/N said softly, sitting down beside him. "I know when something's bothering you."

He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in the way his fingers tugged at the dark curls. "Why do you even care? You shouldn't."

Y/N's heart clenched at his words, the way he tried to push Y/N away. It wasn't the first time he'd done this. Whenever things got too heavy, whenever he felt the weight of his past or the shadow of his father looming too close, he would retreat into himself, building walls around his heart.

But Y/N wasn't going to let him do that tonight.

"I care because I love you," Y/N said firmly, you had reaching out to rest on his arm.

He flinched at the word, as if it physically hurt him, and Y/N saw him tense further. Love was dangerous to him, a concept wrapped in fear and uncertainty. To love someone was to risk losing them, to risk hurting them–or worse, being hurt himself.

"You shouldn't," he repeated, his voice quieter this time, almost broken. "You shouldn't love someone like me. I'm no good for you."

"Mattheo..." Y/N moved closer, her hand sliding down to take his. He didn't pull away, but he didn't grip her hand back either, as if he was afraid to hold on too tightly. "You are good for me. More than you."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You don't understand. I'm like him. My father–" His voice cracked, the raw vulnerability catching him off guard. "I'm his son. His blood runs through me. I could hurt you, I could–"

"You're not him," Y/N interrupted, her voice steady, unwavering. "You're Mattheo. You're not defined by him or what he's done. I know who you are, and I know you would never hurt me."

He looked at her, really looked at her, his dark eyes searching her face as if trying to find the lie in Y/N's words. But there wasn't one. Y/N meant every word, and slowly, she saw his guard begin to crack.

"You don't know what it's like," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "To carry this...darkness inside. To feel like you're always one step away from becoming everything you hate."

Y/N cupped his face gently, turning him to face her fully. "I know you, Mattheo. You're not your father. You're not a monster. You're strong, you're good, and you have a heart–whether you like it or not."

His eyes closed at her touch, and for a moment, he just leaned onto her, letting Y/N's presence ground him. But even then, she could feel the war raging inside him, the part of him that wanted to let her in fighting against the part that wanted to push her away.

"You should leave," he whispered after a long silence, though there was no conviction in his voice. "Before I ruin you."

Y/N shook her head, refusing to let go. "I'm not going anywhere."

Mattheo opened his eyes then, something breaking inside him, and before Y/N could say anything else, he pulled her into him, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. It was like he was trying to pour every unspoken fear, every hidden emotion, into that kiss, as if trying to tell her without words how much he needed her–how much he was afraid of losing the person he loved most. 

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Second part of the series :) I hope you enjoyed it

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