War, Love, and Riddle //Mattheo Riddle x OC

Maybe In Another Universe

Both Emma and Voldemort summon the remnants of their strength. Voldemort rasps the Killing Curse once more, emerald light roaring toward the raven‑haired witch. Emma meets it with a defiant Expelliarmus. The twin spells collide, shrieking, as Emma feels her ancient power draining away, drawn out heartbeat by heartbeat. She seizes the memory of Mattheo—every breathtaking moment, every stolen laugh—and pours that love into her magic. Inch by inch the green tide falters, cracks spider across the Elder Wand, and the curse folds back on its master. Blinding light engulfs Voldemort; the wand rockets free and lands beside Harry's feet beyond the shimmering shield.

Voldemort staggers, disbelief etched on his serpentine face. His body begins to crumble, ash drifting on the chill air. With a final silent scream he scatters to the wind. Emma releases the shield protecting Mattheo and Harry, then collapses. Summoning her last whisper of strength she looks to her husband, a small smile lifting the corner of her lips. "I love you, Matty..."

Bellatrix Lestrange's shriek cuts through the courtyard. "Avada....." Mattheo's wand clears his pocket in a blur. "Petrificus Totalus!" His mother freezes, eyes wide with betrayal. Fury flares in him—this will be the last time Bellatrix Lestrange harms anyone. A second curse, born of rage and love, streaks across the hall. Her heart beats once, and her body rends to shreds.

Mattheo is at Emma's side before the echoes die, gathering her limp form to his chest. Sobs wrench through him. Her breaths are shallow, her heartbeat a fading flutter. "Stay with me... please, stay with me. You promised me forever, Emmy."

Harry drops to his knees, helpless, as students and survivors file from the shattered Great Hall. The sight of Mattheo cradling Emma stills them all. Pansy chokes back a sob; Theo steadies her. Enzo sinks to the rubble, face in his hands.

"Move—move!" Molly Weasley pushes forward, voice urgent. The color drains from her face at Emma's limp body. "We haven't much time. Form a circle!"

The Slytherins clasp hands with the Gryffindors, house lines forgotten. "Repeat after me: Vie Éveillée." Hope flickers as the chant rises—first a handful of voices, then dozens, filling the ruined courtyard with a steady rhythm of pleading magic.

Mattheo, tears streaking his cheeks as he brushes raven strands from Emma's face. "Come back to me..."

Harry's knuckles whiten around his clasped hands. "Vie Éveillée."

Molly meets Arthur's gaze over the circle. She knows the spell has succeeded only once before, but it is all they have. It has to work.

"Vie Éveillée... Vie Éveillée..." Mattheo's voice cracks. "Please..."

Wind stirs, swirling around Emma, tugging at her hair. A sudden breath lifts her chest; her eyelids flutter open. "I came back to you," she whispers.

Mattheo's answer is a fervent, half‑sobbing kiss as cheers erupt around them.

Arthur pulls Molly close. "You did it." He states proudly. She shakes her head, tears shining. "Not me....him. His love saved her."

Ten years later

"Come on, mate!" Mattheo calls, dodging into the kitchen of Theo and Pansy's flat. "I told you, I'd name my next son after you."

Theo arches a brow, amused. "You had your chance."

"If we have another boy, I will."

"Emmy is not having any more children," Theo laughs.

"He is absolutely correct!" Emma announces, rocking the newest little Slytherin. Mattheo, holding Theo and Pansy's baby, unable to tear his gaze from his wife. The sight of her with an infant still melts him, reminding him of James and Lily and the wonder of parenthood. He almost chuckles to himself at the notion of Mattheo Riddle being a father. If his younger self could see him now he wouldn't believe it.

"Careful," he murmurs, eyes alight. "Keep that up and I'll put another one in you tonight."

Emma rolls her eyes, he is rarely joking when he uses that look. "Our two terrors are plenty. They've inherited your flair for mischief."

"Mischief? Me?" Mattheo clutches his heart in mock outrage. "Never."

"Then explain why James enlisted his sister in a prank this morning. Our house is crawling with frogs."

Even as she scolds, she is laughing. This chaos is the life she once thought impossible: safe, bright, overflowing with love. Tears prick her eyes. Mattheo crosses the room, tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear.

He can still see her as she was the day he first laid eyes on her in the Great Hall—raven hair, luminous green eyes, the girl who changed his life forever.

Just Emma. Just Mattheo. 

I hope this lives up to the hopes and dreams of everyone begging me to write an alternate ending. Lots of Love Rae.