Bound By Blood.

ch.51~Scorched.

"This is urgent. 

You need to find a way to meet me. 

I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Recovered Translated Correspondents between Death Eater Mattheo Riddle, To Order Member Alexandra Brooks, 2003.

Riddle Manor, 2003.

Mattheo. 

I was too open. 

Too vulnerable. 

Too weak.

But after I gave her the sleep potion, after I watched her drift away, her features softening as the weight of the world fell from her shoulders, I allowed myself to finally breathe. 

In that moment, I felt the ache in my chest begin to ease, if only slightly. 

The pain that had lingered in her eyes faded as she surrendered to unconsciousness, leaving only the silence of the room in the wake of her sorrow.

I placed her carefully in my bed, careful not to disrupt the sleep she was finally getting, and stepped back to gather my thoughts, collapsing into the nearby armchair. 

I sat there staring at her, each moment stretching painfully long as the shadows of the past flickered against the walls, reminding me of everything that had brought us here.

I couldn't stop myself from wondering, when the last time she got to rest like this. Without interruption. Without her thoughts plaguing her. 

I couldn't stop thinking about how she was here, for five years, and I had no clue. 

And then, how she blamed me for not looking for her. 

As if I wouldn't have torn the fucking world apart.

I couldn't stop thinking about how she didn't falter when I had her against the wall, how she didn't fight me. 

How she thanked me. 

She actually thanked me.

How this was the first time in five years I let myself feel. 

I had put everything out there, when I had spent years burying it.

Forgetting it. 

It felt wrong—so raw and exposed. 

I felt like an idiot, for letting my defenses slip, for showing her the cracks in the façade I'd worked so hard to perfect.

But now, as I walked away from her and Luna Lovegood, The shadow of regret loomed larger than ever.

I regretted feeling. 

I regretted the way my heart raced when I saw her again, how it quickened at the thought of her safety. 

I had let her see a glimpse of who I was beneath the carefully constructed walls, and the way she'd looked at me, with confusion and hope—it made me want to shove those walls back into place.

I had so successfully avoided the tenderness of connection for so long; I had convinced myself that power mattered more. 

Control held a comfort I was terrified to relinquish. 

But deep down, behind the layers of ambition and dominance, there was a part of me that would always save her—without even thinking.

The feelings I had fought tooth and nail to suppress began to surge to the surface.