Mattheo Riddle - Imagines/OneShot

Butterbeer & Bitter Sweetness

Word Count: 701

Song Inspo: Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop - Landon Pigg

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Enouement (ay-noo-mahn): a rare poetic term that refers to the bittersweet feeling of arriving at a future moment in your life, only to wish you could go back and tell your past self what lies ahead.

It captures the complex mix of relief, nostalgia and a longing to reassure your younger self.

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The Three Broomsticks buzzed with chatter as snowflakes painted the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade white. Students and locals alike crammed into the cozy pub, clutching mugs of warm butterbeer. At a corner table, Mattheo Riddle sat alone, his dark curls damp from the snow, his sharp features lost in thought. A notebook lay open in front of him, but his quill hovered motionless.

In the same pub, Y/N sat by the frosted window, her hands curled around a steaming cup. Both didn't know why they'd come to Hogsmeade today—it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend for Hogwarts students, and they'd had no plans. Yet, a tugging in their chest, like a magnet pulling their very soul, had drawn them here.

For Mattheo, it was the same. He'd had no intention of leaving the Slytherin common room, but something—something unexplainable—had urged him to escape the castle's stone walls.

Flashback

Years before, when Y/N was a third year and Mattheo a fourth, they both experienced the same unshakable feeling at the same moment, though neither understood it. Mattheo had been practicing wand-work in the Room of Requirement, a brooding shadow in his chest. It wasn't grief, nor anger, but an ache that felt like he was missing something—or someone. At the same time, Y/N had been in the library, a quill slipping from their fingers as tears burned their eyes for no discernible reason.

Both had whispered the same question to themselves. Why do I feel this way?

Present Day

Y/N glanced up from their butterbeer, their eyes scanning the room as a pang of familiarity hit them. Their gaze fell on Mattheo. He was scribbling something in his notebook now, his brow furrowed in concentration. Y/N didn't know him beyond the whispers in the hallways—he was the son of the infamous Tom Riddle, rumored to have a knack for dark magic. But something about him felt known.

Mattheo, as if sensing the weight of someone's stare, looked up. His dark eyes locked onto Y/N's, and the world seemed to tilt. It wasn't a spark of recognition, but a wave of it—like deja vu amplified a thousand times. His heart stuttered. I've seen them before, he thought. But he hadn't. He couldn't have.

The moment stretched, and with it, a flood of emotion washed over them both.

The Vision

The pub dissolved. Y/N and Mattheo were no longer sitting in the Three Broomsticks. Instead, they stood on sunlit Hogwarts lawn, a future they hadn't yet lived.

Y/N's laughter rang out as they tried—and failed—to duel Mattheo. He grinned, lowering his wand.

"You're hopeless," he teased, stepping closer.

"Hopelessly better than you," Y/N shot back, though her grin betrayed the lie.

In the vision, they weren't strangers. They weren't even acquaintances. They were soulmates. The connection between them was tangible, a thread of gold that tied their hearts together.

Back to Reality

The vision snapped away as quickly as it had come. Both Y/N and Mattheo gasped, clutching their chests as if the air had been knocked out of them.

Mattheo stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the wooden floor. Y/N rose too, their eyes wide.

"Did you just—?" Y/N began, their voice slightly low.

Mattheo nodded, his lips parting to speak, but no words came out. He stepped closer, his heart pounding.

"Who are you?" he finally asked, though the question felt absurd. He already knew the answer—somewhere deep in his soul, he had always known.

Y/N took a tentative step forward, their fingers itching to reach for him.

"I don't know," she whispered, their voice soft. "But I think I've been looking for you."

The Beginning

As the snow continued to fall outside the Three Broomsticks, the two stood together, strangers and yet something far more profound. The feeling of enouement, the bittersweet knowledge of what could be and what had been, lingered between them.

Their souls had known each other long before their minds ever would. 

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