Mattheo Riddle One Shots

Y/n Potter

Warnings: self hate, angst, short

Summary: Where reader is the twin sister to Harry Potter, therefore making her y/n potter. She gets sorted into Ravenclaw for her intelligence and ambition, and Mattheo riddle a ruthless Slytherin. So at first when Mattheo tries to make friends with her she is scepticall but she eventually falls for him, and soon reader feels she has a friend, a best friend.

Words: 874

The Great Hall buzzed with chatter as students clustered together at their respective tables. The candlelight shimmered off the enchanted ceiling, but I paid it no mind. I was used to being unnoticed, just Harry Potter's twin sister, the forgotten shadow to his blazing heroism.

Unlike Harry, I wasn't a Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat had barely touched my head before shouting "Ravenclaw!" My intelligence and ambition had set me apart, making me the outsider in a family defined by bravery.

Most of the school saw me as a footnote to my brother's legacy. Harry himself hardly acknowledged me, too consumed by his mission to defeat Voldemort. It hurt more than I cared to admit.

But Mattheo Riddle had noticed me.

At first, his attention unsettled me. A Slytherin, infamous for his sharp tongue and darker affiliations, he was the last person I'd expected to sit next to me in the library or strike up a conversation in Potions.

"You're quieter than I thought a Potter would be," he'd said the first time we spoke, his dark eyes gleaming with something I couldn't place.

I was skeptical. People like Mattheo didn't take interest in people like me. But he persisted. He'd offer to carry my books, linger after class to chat, and even complimented my spellwork.

Slowly, my walls began to crumble.

Mattheo made me feel seen. He laughed at my jokes, asked about my interests, and listened when I spoke about my struggles. He felt like the only friend I'd ever had, and I clung to that feeling like a lifeline.

I told him things I'd never told anyone else.

"Harry doesn't like me much," I admitted one night in the library, my voice barely above a whisper. "He thinks I'm useless. He doesn't even tell me what he's planning."

Mattheo tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "That's ridiculous. You're brilliant, Y/N. He's probably just intimidated by you."

The warmth in his words filled a void I hadn't realized was so deep.

I told him about my childhood, about how I always felt like the odd one out, how I never fit the image of the perfect Potter sibling. I even confessed my deepest insecurities—that I wasn't as brave as Harry, that I wasn't as likable as Hermione, or as fun as Ron.

And through it all, Mattheo listened. He smirked at my sarcasm, nodded at my rants, and even teased me when I was too serious.

For the first time in my life, someone made me feel like I mattered.

But I should have known better.

It was a cold evening when I finally worked up the courage to tell him how I felt. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached him by the Black Lake, where he sat skimming stones across the water.

"Mattheo," I began, my voice trembling.

He turned, his expression unreadable.

"I need to tell you something," I said, twisting my hands nervously. "You're the only person who's ever made me feel... like I'm not alone. I think—I think I like you. More than a friend."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then Mattheo laughed, low and bitter.

"You like me?" he repeated, standing and dusting off his robes. His eyes locked onto mine, cold and unfeeling. "Y/N, I don't even think of you as a friend."

The words hit me like a curse.

"W-what?" I stammered, my voice cracking.

"You're so naive," he continued, his tone laced with disdain. "You trust too easily. You don't even care about how you look or how people perceive you. And that's why no one likes you, Y/N. Not Harry, not anyone. You're just... pathetic."

Tears blurred my vision as I tried to process his words. "But... I thought—"

"You thought wrong," he interrupted, his voice sharp. "I was never interested in you. You were just a means to an end."

I felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

Mattheo didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked away, leaving me standing by the lake, frozen in place.

The days that followed were a blur. I stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped caring.

Every time I saw Mattheo in the halls, my chest ached. He didn't even glance my way, as if I'd never existed.

I spent most of my time in the Ravenclaw common room, curled up with Cinnamon, my ginger tabby. She was the only thing I had left, the only soul that seemed to care about me.

Harry didn't notice my absence at meals, and my professors barely glanced my way when I handed in half-finished assignments.

I was a ghost, a fragment of the person I used to be.

And I couldn't help but wonder if Mattheo had been right all along.

No one liked me.

Not even myself.