Mattheo Riddle One Shots

Torn Between Shadows •Prompt 3•

For: lxfelessons

The days following your confrontation with Mattheo were as hollow as they were relentless. The world didn't stop for heartbreak; the war demanded everything of you. The Order needed you focused, alert, and willing to fight. But inside, you were shattered. Every mission felt heavier, every moment lonelier. The weight of Mattheo's betrayal followed you like a shadow, whispering doubts in the quiet hours of the night.

You told yourself it didn't matter. He had made his choice, and you had made yours. But the memories refused to fade: his rare smiles, the way he'd looked at you when no one else was watching, the unspoken promises that now felt like lies. Love wasn't supposed to be like this, you thought. Love was supposed to save people, not destroy them.

For Mattheo, the silence you left behind was deafening.

He wandered the halls of the Death Eater stronghold, a ghost of himself. His father's praise rang hollow in his ears. Victory, duty, legacy—words that should have meant everything felt meaningless now. Voldemort watched him with a predator's gaze, sharp and calculating. Mattheo knew his father had noticed the change in him. It was only a matter of time before questions were asked, suspicions raised.

But none of it mattered. Not really.

He replayed that night in the Forbidden Forest over and over in his mind. The look in your eyes when you told him you couldn't forgive him was seared into his memory. He had thought he was protecting you by keeping you at arm's length, but now he realized he'd only destroyed the one thing that had ever made him feel whole.

Still, he couldn't let you go.

Late at night, when the world was quiet, Mattheo found himself clutching the small locket you'd given him—a simple thing, enchanted to open only when touched by both of your hands. It had been a symbol of your connection, something unbreakable. Now it hung heavy around his neck, a constant reminder of what he had lost. He couldn't bring himself to destroy it.

"You're distracted, son," Voldemort hissed one evening, his crimson eyes piercing. "Weakness has no place in my ranks. Whatever it is that clouds your mind, rid yourself of it."

Mattheo clenched his jaw and nodded, but his father's words cut deep. Weakness. That's what Voldemort would call his love for you. But Mattheo knew better. You weren't his weakness. You were his strength—the only light in the darkness that consumed his life. And he had extinguished it with his own hands.

For you, moving on felt impossible.

Every corner of the castle seemed to echo with his presence. The empty corridors where you'd once met in secret, the abandoned classroom where he'd kissed you for the first time, the Astronomy Tower where he'd held you close under the stars—they all felt haunted.

You threw yourself into your work with the Order, determined to bury the pain. Yet every duel, every narrow escape, reminded you of the cost of loving Mattheo. When you closed your eyes at night, you saw his face—not the cold, detached mask he had worn in the Death Eater base, but the boy who had whispered promises of a future together.

"You're not yourself," Hermione said one evening, her brow furrowed with concern. "We all feel the weight of this war, but you... you're different. If something's wrong, you can talk to me."

You wanted to tell her. To unload the pain that was eating you alive. But how could you explain it? How could you make her understand that your heart had been torn in two, and one half still belonged to a boy who had chosen the darkness?

Instead, you forced a smile and said, "I'm fine, Hermione. Just tired."

The emotional distance between you and Mattheo felt insurmountable, but fate had other plans.