Mattheo Riddle - Imagines/OneShot

Bound by Fate - Pt.2

Word Count: 739

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The tension between us remained thick, but it softened with time. True to his word, Mattheo didn't invade my space. We lived under the same roof but led separate lives. He spent his time with his usual crowd—Draco, Blaise, Lorenzo, and Theordore—while I kept to myself, focusing on my studies and avoiding the awkward dinners we were forced to attend together.

But things began to shift one quiet evening in the library. I had retreated there to escape the awkwardness of our shared home, surrounded by books that brought me a sense of peace. As I settled into a chair with a heavy tone, I heard footsteps approaching.

"Y/N."

I looked up to see Mattheo standing at the entrance, his usual arrogance softened, replaced by something I hadn't seen before—a vulnerability that caught me off guard.

"What is it?" I asked, my tone softer than usual.

He hesitated for a moment before stepping further into the room. "I just... wanted to talk."

I raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

He raised a hand through his dark, messy curls, clearly uncomfortable. "About us. About this...situation."

I closed my book, giving him my full attention. "Go on."

He sat down across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes fixed on the floor. "I know this marriage isn't what you wanted. It's not what I wanted either. But...we're in this together. And I've been thinking that maybe...maybe we could try to make the best of it."

I frowned, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we don't have to hate each other. We don't have to spend the rest of our lives avoiding each other." He looked up at me, his expression softer than I'd ever seen it. "I think we could at least try to be friends."

Friends. The word felt foreign when it applied to us. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw sincerity there. He wasn't trying to manipulate me or make things worse. He was offering something real.

"I don't know..." I said slowly, unsure if I could trust him. "Why the change of heart?"

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "Maybe I'm tired of being angry all the time. Maybe I'm tired of pretending that I don't care. I know this marriage wasn't our first choice, but that doesn't mean we can't try to find something...good in it."

I studied him for a moment, weighing my options. This was a side of Mattheo I hadn't seen before. He wasn't the arrogant boy I'd been forced to marry—he was just someone trying to make the best out of a shit situation.

Finally, I nodded. "Alright. Let's try."

From that night on, things began to change between us. It was slow at first—small moments of conversation over breakfast, a shared smile during one of those tedious family dinners. But those small moments grew into something more.

We began spending more time together, talking late into the night in the library or walking around the castle grounds. He wasn't as cold as I had once thought. There was some warmth beneath his exterior, a humor that he only revealed when he was comfortable. I found myself laughing at his sarcastic remarks and teasing comments, something I never thought possible.

We were learning to trust one another, and with that trust came something unexpected—a bond. A friendship. And maybe, just maybe, the beginnings of something more.

One evening, as we sat together on the balcony, watching the stars above the castle, Mattheo turned to me, his gaze soft. "You know, when this marriage was first arranged, I thought it would be hell."

I chuckled, nodding. "So did I."

He smiled, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. "But it's not. Not anymore."

I met his gaze, my heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his expression. "No. It's not."

There was a pause, the air between us thick with unspoken words. Then slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against mine. "I think...we could be good together, Y/N. If we let ourselves."

My breath caught in my throat, but I didn't pull away. Instead, I laced my fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine. "I think you're right."

And in that moment, I realized that this marriage—this arrangement that had once felt like a prison—might actually become something real. Something we could build together. Something that could turn into love. 

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