karma
Dating Mattheo Riddle was not what you had expected - over the course of two months, your life had improved dramatically. You were like a puzzle Mattheo had solved - before you met him, your pieces were all broken apart, but he had somehow managed to put them back together. He made you happier, and when you were happier, you tended to do better in your courses. You had also made friends - he had introduced you to his as soon as he could. Theodore was still quite silent around you, but you could tell he didn't nesscessarily dislike you. Sometimes, he sat down across from you in the library and you studied together in silence. It was far better than studying alone, that's for sure. And Blaise - Blaise and you had connected quickly. Before you knew it, you, Mattheo, and Blaise were hanging out together almost everyday. In the Slytherin common room, on the grounds, in random classrooms even.
However, you had grown quite unpopular with a certain . . . group of people at school. Namely girls. A lot of girls. The day after you and Mattheo kissed, you had walked into the Great Hall together. Mattheo's arm wrapped around your waist, his head leaned into your ear mumbling some joke that made you laugh boisterously. No doubt eyes were drawn to you and jaws dropped. Only days ago, no one even knew you that well. Let alone Riddle. Yet here you were, entangled in his arms, being led to the Slytherin table for breakfast. So you had made quite a few enemies as well as friends, but if you were being entirely honest . . . you didn't even care that much.
Being with Mattheo was like a blessing. He was constantly showering you with affection. Whether it be subtle touches, murmured words of affection, or more . . . unspeakable things. Despite the fact that he was by your side every moment of the day (which came in handy when he could death stare any potential annoyances away), you actually quite enjoyed how often you were in each other's proximity. You were in most of the same classes already as well as the same year. And currently, you were seated next to each other in History of Magic. Professor Binns, of course, was droning on about the elf revolution and you, of course, were nudging Mattheo awake with a silent chuckle.
He gave you a playful shove, letting his head fall back onto your shared desk, his arms covering his face. "Let me sleep," Mattheo mumbled, his voice muffled.
"Theo, don't you want to pay attention?"
"I have an E in this class anyways."
You rolled your eyes with a grin, turning back to listen to Binns, no matter how much you'd like to lay on your desk to fall asleep too. When class was over, Blaise made his way over to you two, Theodore hovering behind him with his nose down a book. Blaise whacked Mattheo over the head with a roll of parchment, enough that it would startle him awake, but not exactly enough to hurt him.
Mattheo groaned, shoving Blaise away too.
"Come on, you twat, class is over."
Mattheo let out a grumble, pushing himself out of his chair and grabbing his bag. "We don't have any more classes, right?"
"Nope. Theo and I are headed down to the pitch, you two want to come?"
Mattheo shook his head no, which wasn't really surprising. He wasn't really into Quidditch and only ever came to matches for the sake of his friends. "I'm probably going to pass out for a few hours, you guys can head on."
Blaise glanced towards you questioningly, but you shook your head. A grin grew wide on his face as Blaise clapped Mattheo's shoulder. "Pass out, huh?" he asked with a snigger.
"Ah, shove off, Zabini!"
When you entered Mattheo's dorm, you dropped your bag by the edge of his bed and flopped onto the mattress with a sigh. You were exhausted. So much work, and with NEWTs growing closer and closer, you grew more tired with the heavy workload.
Mattheo joined you, sitting up straight while he held his arm out to you. You smiled, snuggling into him and wrapping an arm around his torso. He gave you a peck on the top of your head, which was resting against his chest, petting your hair gently. It was quiet moments like this that you loved the best, moments where you were reminded that you were his and he was yours. It reminded you that what you had was real.
"Tired, huh?" He looked down in amusement at you, your eyes already shut, breathing already turned to a slow, steady rhythm. You hummed in response, entangling your legs with his, a grin spread across your face. He couldn't help but smile at your contentment. "You look so pretty like this." It was a whisper, but nowhere near suggestive - more adoring than anything. He rubbed your arm gently, pulling you in closer so that you were almost entirely sprawled atop him.
Sometimes, it was hard to believe you were with Mattheo. He was just so . . . perfect. He had his flaws, but that didn't mean you liked him any less. Sure, he may have gotten in one too many fights on your behalf, and yes, he may have tried to push you away because of his traumatic childhood, but you loved him all the same. I mean, come on, this is Mattheo you're talking about. The guy that sent you far too many deliveries of roses at breakfast, so many in fact that the entire table in front of you was drowning in luscious red petals. The guy that read all your favorite books and listened to all your favorite bands even if he didn't care much for them. The guy that declared his love for you in the middle of Transfiguration when you had been sour after a particularly nasty row. It didn't matter if he was the Dark Lord's son or if he got into far too many fights or if he got terrible marks (even though he was quite sharp).
But he reminded you that this was real and you were together in quiet moments like this. Sometimes it was when you were cuddled on a couch in the common room, huddled by the fire while your friends told stories that more often that not involved very noble efforts for very stupid causes. Or perhaps in the library, his head rested in your lap as you studied with an intense concentration, playing with some part of your clothes or maybe your hair. Oh, and those times you'd be walking hand-in-hand through Hogsmeade, waltzing into forgotten shops on street corners, making out in the oddest of places, tripping over bumps in the road as you walked to visit the Shrieking Shack together. In a way, you were grateful to him for being in your life. You wouldn't be nearly as happy as you were today without him.
"Theo?"
"Hm?"
"Thank you."
"For what, exactly, darling?"
"For being here for me. For being here, in general."
Matthoe glanced down at you in suprise. "You have nothing to thank me for." He pressed a firm kiss to your head, then drawing you in closer so he could rest your head against yours. "I love you."
You hummed, snuggling your face into his chest. "I love you too."