Mattheo Riddle One Shots

Spiked

¡Request!

Warnings: cussing, fights, drink spiking

Summary: Mattheo is your enemy and he sees someone spike you drink.

Words: 1006

The bass thrummed in the floorboards of the Slytherin common room, the green lanterns casting an eerie glow over the stone walls as students swayed, laughed, and lost themselves in the haze of music and alcohol. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, regretting the decision to come.

The only reason you agreed was because Pansy Parkinson had been relentless, practically dragging you out of your dorm with the promise of "It'll be fun, come on! Even Riddle might show up and glower at you from across the room!"

Mattheo Riddle. The bane of your Hogwarts existence. Arrogant, sharp-tongued, infuriatingly magnetic. He'd made a habit of mocking you in class, calling you "Sunshine" with a smirk whenever you corrected his potion technique or beat his spellwork in Dueling Club.

You didn't know when the rivalry started — maybe the first time you'd outshone him, or maybe the first time he realized you weren't afraid to bite back. Whatever it was, the disdain between you was mutual. Supposedly.

What you didn't know was that people had started whispering about Mattheo. That the way his gaze lingered a little too long when you weren't looking hadn't gone unnoticed. That he'd shut down conversations that involved your name. That he'd punched a boy in the hallway last week for calling you a "snarky know-it-all."

You didn't know any of that. Not yet.

You accepted a cup from someone — a Gryffindor boy, unfamiliar, sloppy with his compliments — and took a cautious sip. Bitter. You pulled a face, but chalked it up to whatever questionable liquor was circulating.

Mattheo, meanwhile, stood in the corner, watching. His stormy eyes narrowed the moment the cup touched your lips. He'd seen the boy. Seen the flash of powder drop into your drink before it was handed to you.

And now you were swaying slightly. You didn't even realize it.

Mattheo moved.

Before your legs could fully give out beneath you, strong arms caught you, steadying you against his chest. "You alright, Sunshine?"

You blinked up at him, vision swimming. "Don't... call me that."

"Noted," he said tightly, jaw clenched. "Come on."

You didn't resist as he took the cup from your hand, set it aside, and slipped his arm around your waist. You barely registered the murmurs or the surprised stares as he guided you out of the common room and down the corridors.

Your head was heavy against his shoulder by the time you reached the boys' dormitory. He laid you down gently on his bed, grabbing a glass of water from his desk and pressing it into your hands.

"You didn't drink much. That's good," he muttered.

You frowned. "Why are you being nice to me?"

He looked away. "You'll feel worse in an hour. I'll stay."

You blinked at him, trying to understand, but the dizziness pulled at your focus. "Mattheo... what's happening?"

"You were drugged." His voice was a low snarl. "But not badly. Whoever did it was sloppy. You're gonna be fine. Sleep if you can."

You didn't sleep. Not really. You drifted in and out, heart racing with anxiety and confusion, only vaguely aware of the fact that Mattheo hadn't left your side. That he'd sat in a chair across from the bed, fists clenched, eyes burning with fury.

Then he was gone.

You didn't know how long he was away — fifteen, maybe twenty minutes — but when he returned, his knuckles were split and bleeding, a cut trailing down his cheekbone, bruises already forming under his jaw.

He didn't say a word. Just stepped inside, locked the door, and leaned back against it, chest heaving.

You sat up, suddenly alert. "What happened?"

His gaze softened when it landed on you. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." You slid off the bed and crossed to him. "Merlin, you're bleeding."

"Better me than you," he muttered.

You ignored the way that made your chest squeeze. "Sit down."

He obeyed, surprisingly. You fetched your wand and a cloth from his desk, kneeling in front of him. He watched you in silence as you cleaned his knuckles, careful and precise.

"You fought him," you said quietly. "Didn't you?"

Mattheo's jaw flexed. "He deserved worse."

"You could've been expelled."

"I don't care."

"Why?"

He hesitated. Then, as you reached up to dab the cloth at the cut on his cheek, he caught your wrist gently in his hand.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Because it was you."

Your breath hitched. You searched his eyes, uncertain.

"I don't hate you, you know," he said. "Not really."

"You call me 'Sunshine' like it's an insult."

"Because if I didn't, I'd call you everything else I'm not supposed to."

You swallowed hard. "Like what?"

His grip on your wrist loosened, but he didn't let go. "Like the only person who makes my heart stop when she walks in the room. Like the only girl I've ever actually given a damn about."

Silence stretched between you, thick and charged.

"You're such an arse," you said softly, but your voice cracked.

"I know."

"And you punched someone for me."

"I'd do it again."

You let the cloth drop from your hand, resting your palm gently on his cheek instead. "You scared me tonight."

"I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

You didn't think. You leaned in and kissed him — soft, tentative, but real. His hands came up to cradle your face, pulling you closer like he'd been waiting for this forever.

When you pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. "So... you don't hate me either?"

You laughed, the sound breaking something open between you. "Not really."

He smiled — not a smirk, not a sneer — just something raw and genuine and entirely unlike the boy everyone thought he was.

"Stay?" he asked quietly.

You nodded. "Only if you promise not to call me Sunshine again."

He smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "No promises."