Mattheo Riddle One Shots

"Back to the Old House"

*inspiration is from the song Back to the old house by the smiths*

Summary: it's to late-

Warnings: none

Words: 846

The dusty corridors of Hogwarts felt colder now, as if the castle itself mirrored the emptiness that settled inside you. You hadn't seen Mattheo since the end of sixth year—since the fight, since he left without a word. Now, it was your final year, and the world had grown heavier, darker. Voldemort's shadow loomed larger, and so did the weight of the things you left unsaid.

You'd thought you could forget him, or at least bury the ache somewhere deep within you. But when you heard his voice behind you that morning in the library, soft and familiar, it was as though no time had passed.

"Y/N."

You froze, the sound of his voice pulling you out of your thoughts like a hook. Turning slowly, you saw him standing there, his dark curls unruly as ever, his piercing brown eyes holding a mixture of hesitation and longing.

"Mattheo," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He stepped closer, his hands in the pockets of his robes, looking like the boy you once knew yet carrying an air of weariness you'd never seen before. "I didn't think you'd talk to me. Not after everything."

You bit your lip, unsure whether to feel anger or relief at his presence. "You disappeared. What was I supposed to do?"

Mattheo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice," you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "You left, Mattheo. You left me here—alone—to deal with the mess you helped create."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "Do you think it was easy for me? Walking away? I—" He stopped, shaking his head as if the words hurt too much. "I thought leaving would keep you safe."

Your laugh was bitter. "Safe? You think I've been safe? The rumors, the stares, the whispers that I was involved with Voldemort's son? You didn't protect me, Mattheo. You just made me face it all alone."

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, so softly you almost didn't hear it, he murmured, "I'm sorry."

The apology was unexpected, and for a second, it chipped away at the wall you'd built around yourself. But it wasn't enough—not yet.

"Why are you here now?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What do you want from me?"

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours like he was looking for something he wasn't sure he'd find. "There's a war coming, Y/N. And I needed to see you—just once—before everything changes."

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. "And then what? You'll leave again?"

He didn't answer, which was answer enough.

The silence between you was thick, filled with all the words you couldn't say. Finally, Mattheo broke it, his voice soft but steady. "Do you remember the old tree by the Black Lake? Where we used to meet after curfew?"

You nodded, the memory washing over you like a wave. Those nights had felt like a lifetime ago, back when the world was simpler, back when you believed that you and Mattheo could somehow escape the weight of his name.

"I go there sometimes," he admitted. "When I need to think. When I wish things were... different."

The raw honesty in his words made your throat tighten. "I miss it too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo stepped closer, his hand almost reaching for yours before he stopped himself. "If I could go back, Y/N—back to that time, back to the old house we built for ourselves in our little corner of the world—I would. But we can't, can we?"

You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. "No, we can't."

The weight of those words settled between you like a chasm, unbridgeable despite the love that still lingered.

"I should go," Mattheo said after a moment, his voice thick with emotion. "But I had to see you. To tell you that no matter what happens next, no matter what they say about me—you were the best thing I ever had."

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you thought about stopping him, about begging him to stay. But you didn't. Because you both knew that in this war-torn world, love was a fragile thing, too easily destroyed by the forces pulling you apart.

As Mattheo turned and walked away, you stood frozen, watching until he disappeared into the shadows. And as the silence closed in around you, the lyrics of an old song drifted through your mind—a song about longing, about the things you can't reclaim, about the homes you can never return to.

"I'd rather not go, back to the old house..."

But in your heart, you knew you'd never truly left it. Because Mattheo Riddle would always be your home, even if he could never stay.