Mattheo Riddle - Imagines/OneShot

Jealousy, Jealousy

Word Count: 687

The music thumped through the Slytherin common room, the air thick with the smell of firewhisky and buzz of animated conversation. I was curled up on a leather couch, tucked under Mattheo's arm, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my shoulder. It was a typical Slytherin party–dark, moody, and charged with an undercurrent of danger that seemed to follow Mattheo wherever he went.

His friends were scattered around the room, laughing and drinking, the night still young. I slipped from my cup, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through me, and leaned into Mattheo, enjoying the moment of calm in the midst of the chaos.

But then, I felt it. A prickle at the back of my neck, like someone's gaze burning into me. I glanced up, my eyes scanning the room until they landed on Theodore Nott, Mattheo's best friend. He was across the room, sitting in an armchair with a drink in hand, but his eyes weren't on his drink. They were on me.

There was something in his gaze that made me uneasy–an intensity that went beyond casual interest. His eyes lingered on me in a way that felt wrong, his expression dark with something I couldn't quite place. I shifted my seating, hoping Mattheo hadn't noticed, but of course, he had.

Mattheo's arm tensed around me, his fingers pausing their gentle movements. He followed my gaze, and when he saw Theodore's eyes on me, something in him snapped.

"Theo," Mattheo called out, his voice low but carrying an edge that cut through the noise of the room. The chatter around us died down, eyes shifting towards Mattheo and then to Theodore.

Theodore looked up, his expression unreadable, but the tension in the room was palpable. "Yeah?" he replied, his tone casual, as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Why the fuck are you staring at my girl?" Mattheo's voice was quiet, but it carried a dangerous weight, the kind that made everyone in the room hold their breath. His grip on me tightened, his protectiveness seeping into every word.

Theodore's eyes flickered between Mattheo and me, his cool facade slipping just a bit. "Relax, man," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I wasn't doing anything."

But Mattheo wasn't having it. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, every inch of him showed that he is the son of Voldemort at that moment. "Stay the fuck away from her," he hissed, his voice cold. "She's mine. Don't forget that."

The room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Theodore held Mattheo's gaze for a long moment, then looked away, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Whatever you say, Riddle," he muttered, but he didn't look my way again.

Mattheo didn't relax until Theodore turned his attention elsewhere, and even then, I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. He stood up abruptly, pulling me with him. "We're leaving," he said, not bothering to explain or say goodbye to anyone.

I nodded, not questioning him, and followed as he led me out of the common room, his hand gripping mine like a lifeline. We walked in silence through the dimly lit corridors, the tension between us slowly easing as we put distance between ourselves and the party.

When we finally reached his dorm, Mattheo closed the door behind us and pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. "I'm sorry," he murmured into my hair, his voice softer now, the anger gone. "I just...I can't stand the thought of anyone looking at you like that. Let alone, him."

"It's okay," I whispered back, wrapping my arms around him. "I'm yours, Mattheo. Only yours."

He pulled back slightly to look into my eyes, his expression serious. "Promise me you'll never doubt that," he said, his voice low but full of emotion. "Because I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"I promise," I said, and I meant it.

We stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, the world outside his dorm forgotten. In that moment, it was just the two of us, and nothing else mattered. 

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We love a jealous man

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