🖤Mattheo Riddle Oneshots 🖤

All Too Well

Y/N L/N hadn't planned to walk the streets of Hogsmeade today. She hadn't even wanted to visit the wizarding village again, but life had a cruel way of dragging her back to places she thought she'd escaped. The crisp November air stung her cheeks, the cold seeping through the layers of her coat. Still, she trudged along the cobbled streets, her boots clicking faintly against the stones.

Memories swirled around her like leaves on a gust of wind. It had been years, but the village hadn't changed. The Three Broomsticks still stood in its cozy glow, Honeydukes still lured students with its colorful confections, and there, at the corner—her favorite spot—the café they used to go to.

"I walked through the door with you, the air was cold, but something 'bout it felt like home somehow."

She hesitated at the entrance, staring through the fogged glass windows. It felt strange stepping back into this part of her life, as if she were intruding on someone else's story. Her hand reached up to touch the scarf around her neck, one she didn't wear often but couldn't part with. It was his scarf. His scent, faint but lingering, still clung to it, woven into the fabric like the memories she'd never quite shaken.

The bell above the door jingled as she entered. The warm aroma of coffee and pastries hit her instantly, thawing the edges of her frozen heart. She took a seat by the window, her fingers tracing patterns on the table absentmindedly.

"And I left my scarf there at your sister's house, and you've still got it in your drawer even now."

She hated how easily the memories came rushing back. Mattheo Riddle. He had been everything once: her storm, her solace, her undoing. The sharp edges of his smirk and the softness in his rare smiles were etched into her mind like the strokes of a masterpiece she couldn't erase.

They had met at Hogwarts—young and reckless, caught in the chaos of a world that demanded more from them than they were ready to give. He was trouble personified, with dark curls that fell into his eyes and a charm that melted defenses like butter on warm toast. And she? She had been the one person who saw beyond the masks he wore, or so she thought.

"Cause there we are again in the middle of the night, we're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light."

She smiled bitterly at the memory. It was one of her favorites. They had been at his family's estate, the large house eerily quiet except for their whispered laughter. He had tugged her into the kitchen, his hands clumsy but gentle as he spun her around. The refrigerator light cast a dim glow on their faces, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside didn't exist.

"We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate, autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place."

Those drives had been their escape. They would sneak out in the dead of night, steal one of the Riddle family cars, and drive until the sun came up. They never had a destination, just each other, and that had been enough. Or at least, it had been for her.

But forever was a lie they told themselves to stave off reality.

"Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much, but maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up."

It all started unraveling faster than she could hold on. Mattheo had always been unpredictable—a storm she couldn't control. One day, he was pulling her into his arms, whispering promises of forever; the next, he was distant, guarded, his words cutting like glass. She didn't understand it then, and maybe she still didn't fully understand it now.

The fight that ended everything was burned into her memory, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. They had been in that very café, sitting at the same table she found herself at now. She had asked him for more—more clarity, more stability, more of himself.