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Healing Touch Part 2

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader (QuidditchPlayer!Mattheo x Healer!Reader)

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, vaginal sex, F/M, cunnilingus, aged-up characters, Hogwarts Uni AU, fluff, like maybe angst

Summary:

Mattheo Riddle comes back for a check up and an answer. (AKA happy smutty October). Part 1.

“Mr. Riddle is back. He’s set up in the same bed as last night and only asking for you. Something about his arm not being set right. I thought I taught you better than that,” Madam Pomfrey scolded you the second you walked through the door to report for your shift. 

“Oh! Okay, I will check on him immediately,” You nearly dropped your items at the matron’s disapproval and hurry to set your things aside. You knew Mattheo said that he would be back the next day, but a part of you hoped that he had forgotten. You needed to buy more time to process what had happened between the two of you, so you had foolishly dodged him around the corridors and snuck food out of the dining hall just so he wouldn’t have an opportunity to corner you. You were surprised that he played you at your own game and decided to corner himself instead. You held your breath while you walked to the back of the infirmary while Madam Pomfrey gave you another look before disappearing into her office. With an embarrassingly shaky hand, you pulled back the curtains around Mattheo’s bed and revealed a smirk that drove a heat deep into your core. Mattheo leaned back in the bed, propped up with pillows with both of his arms folded behind his head. His expression didn’t change when he saw you; if anything, he seemed to grow more amused at the scowl etched into your face.

“I have a feeling you’ve been avoiding me,” Mattheo kicked his legs up on the bed with a big grin. “Now, do you want me to take my pants off or would you like the honors?”

“You can keep your pants on, thank you very much,” You sighed, turning away quickly so that Mattheo wouldn’t catch your reddened cheeks or creeping smile. You placed a temperature gauge into his mouth, which he opened up with a wink. You shook your head while rolling your eyes and a humored scoff, but still you brushed the back of your hand over his forehead and cheeks to feel for any clamminess. “I was told it was your arm that needed looking at.”

“Oh, I just had to say something that sounded serious enough for Pomfrey to let me wait on you,” Mattheo shrugged nonchalantly. “Your work is impeccable. I recovered fine after a good sleep and believe me, I slept really well after last night.”

“Your little stunt could put me on probation with Madam Pomfrey,” You frowned to fight your smile. You pulled out a fresh roll of bandages which delighted Mattheo greatly. He hooked his thumb through his belt loop and shook it in invitation. “And, by the way, I have not been avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Then maybe I was wrong. You don’t really seem the type to run and hide. You’re really bad at it, by the way,” Mattheo mocked. You bit down on your lip to save your pride while you started to undo Mattheo’s belt to get to his thigh. “Though, I will admit, I’m loving this new bashful side of you.”

“I’m not bashful, I’m just doing my job.”

“Are you really going to tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself last night? C’mon, you’re wounding my pride and I think there’s only one type of medicine that can fix it,” Mattheo watched you carefully as you slid his pants down. The memory of last night flooded your rationality and your mouth ran dry. Mattheo chuckled and assisted you in sliding his pants down further. You smiled upon inspection of your work, which was wrapped tightly enough that no extra bleeding seeped through. “Now you’re just a tease. Smiling at me with me exposed like this? Now’s not the time to act so innocent.”

“I told you it was a one time thing, Mattheo. If you need something for your pride, I’m sure you have a line of groupies who would gladly medicate you,” The moment you pressed the cold bandage shears against his leg, you could feel his entire body shiver, which in turn made you copy his movements. 

“Sure, but none of them are as cute as you. Or so adept with their fingers,” Mattheo let out a sigh of relief when you cut the bandage free, revealing a well healed scar thanks to magic. 

“Good news is that you don’t need another bandage. Your leg healed overnight,” You ignored Matteo’s joke and gave his leg a once over with the same salve from last night. He grabbed your wrist as a way to grab your attention. 

“Hey,” Mattheo’s eyes bore into yours. His gaze was much more serious than before and it made your skin erupt in goosebumps again. “I told you last night: This isn’t a joke. But if you want me to stop, I will.”

“I’m saving my own pride. You can’t blame me for questioning your intentions,” You reply, forcing the words past the stop in your throat. “Last night was fun, but that’s not really what I’m about.”

“This isn’t a one off thing for me, princess. I know that’s what you think of me, but you’ve patched me up more than once and you… you actually see me for who I am. Not my last name, not my jersey number, you know…” Mattheo ran a finger across your cheek before letting out a heavy sigh. You froze in place and let your mouth hang open while you tried to figure out a response. Is he serious? It’s all just a cliche. “Merlin… Did I misread this whole thing? Was your conversation just… good bedside manner? Please, just say something.”

“Mattheo- I… No, I do have feelings for you! I just- I…” You finally manage to spit something out in your flustered state. Your confession stuns the both of you into silence. Mattheo's eyes widened, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your face. He opened his mouth but shut it quickly, but your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears that you wouldn’t have been able to hear a thing anyway.

“You do?” Mattheo croaked in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m not great with feelings and such,” You laugh awkwardly. Mattheo shook his head and smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You reached out and gently caressed the creases. He reached out in reply and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on your skin.

"I'm not great with them either," Mattheo admitted, his voice low and intimate. "But I know how I feel about you. I've known for a while now."

"I thought... I thought you just saw me as the team healer," You whispered, hardly daring to believe this was real. Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You searched his face, looking for any sign of deception, but all you saw was sincerity and warmth. Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head again.

"At first, maybe. But you're so much more than that. You're brilliant, kind, and you challenge me in ways no one else does. I can't stop thinking about you. In the infirmary… out of the infirmary," Mattheo’s voice deepened and he snaked his hand towards the back of your head. Your breath caught in your throat as Mattheo's fingers tangled in your hair. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into him, drawn by an invisible force. His eyes flickered to your lips and despite the two of you having seen each other naked, you never felt more vulnerable. "Merlin…May I...?"

You nodded, unable to form words. Mattheo closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was gentle at first, a mere brush of lips, but it quickly deepened as years of pent-up emotions poured out. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You smiled slightly, an odd sense of pride bubbling at making the mighty Quidditch player nervous under your touch. Realizing where you were and on the clock no less, you had to pull away. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Mattheo rested his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

“We actually can’t have sex in here again,” You scolded playfully. Mattheo stopped you before you could fully step away, his arm strong against your waist. “Madam Pomfrey isn’t too thrilled with me, remember?”

“Mmm, you’re no fun. Fine, I’ll restrain myself for now. Meet me in my dorm after dinner,” Mattheo let a brazen hand travel down to your ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

“What a romantic request,” You joked, pulling him off the bed. “Tell my boss I didn’t mess you up on your way out.”

“Will do, princess,” Mattheo spun you around for one final kiss. “And it wasn’t a request. It was a demand.”

Mattheo wasted no time in dragging you into his room after dinner ended. You barely had time to finish your meal before he marched over, made up some lie about needing your assistance with something, and pulled you out of the Great Hall with his arm protectively - no, possessively - slung across your waist. You laughed at the whispers and jealous looks thrown at the two of you, but let the man practically carry you out.

The moment the door to Mattheo's room closed behind you, he wasted no time in pressing you against it, his lips crashing onto yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. Your hands tangled in his curls as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless.

"I've been waiting for this all day," Mattheo hummed against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. You shivered, arching into him.

"Impatient, are we?" You teased, but your words were cut short by a gasp as he sucked on your pulse point.

"You have no idea," Mattheo murmured, his hands roaming your body with an urgency that matched his kisses. He slipped a feverishly warm hand up your shirt and began pulling the blouse apart with so much strength that you were worried the buttons would pop. "Do you know how hard it was to focus on Quidditch practice when all I could think about was you? I thought about falling off my broom just so you could come patch me up again."

“That’s pretty dark. You don’t have to go to such measures just for my attention,” You smirked, fumbling for his belt. You dragged a hand over the building tension of his pants, causing him to groan.

“Lose the attitude or I’ll lose it for you,” Mattheo warned, raking his fingers down your body. He stopped at your breast, tugging the perched bud to make you moan, then moved down to the thin fabric of your underwear. Your breath hitched as Mattheo's fingers danced along the edge of your underwear, teasing but not quite touching where you desperately wanted him. He slowly slid a finger between you and the fabric and grinned. “So wet for me already. Does being a brat turn you on?”

You could only moan in response and squirmed against the door, trying to create more friction, but he held you firmly in place with his other hand. His finger traced lazy circles, deliberately ignoring your clit that practically pulsed with desire.

"Answer me," Mattheo demanded, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, I do. But I’ll be good! I’ll be so good…" You whined, your hips bucking involuntarily. "Please, Mattheo."

"That's more like it. I love it when you beg," Mattheo chuckled darkly, finally slipping a finger inside you. Your head fell into his chest with a gasp as he began working his finger. With the little composure you had left, you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of him with frenzied greed. You could see the fabric of his shirt bunch up as you frantically unbuttoned it, revealing the toned muscles beneath. Thank you, Quidditch. 

You started placing kisses on his neck, eager to move your mouth down to his chest. You could taste the bitterness of his cologne, but the warm taste of his skin took over your senses. As your lips moved down his neck, you could hear Mattheo's breathing growing heavier and more ragged. He hastily tangled his hands in your hair and pulled it back up to press it against the door. 

“Get on the bed,” Mattheo growled, tearing himself off of you. You obeyed and shed yourself of the rest of your clothes before lying back on his unmade bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch Mattheo to work on your poor attempt at undoing his belt. Mattheo's own fingers fumbled with the buckle, his usual dexterity hindered by his burning desire. You couldn't help but smirk at his struggle, a small act of defiance even as you lay exposed before him. Finally, he managed to undo his belt and pants, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. He was a sign of divinity proven in a full view of his carved muscles and dark briefs. You licked your lips, practically drooling at the sight. 

Mattheo climbed on top of you for a quick kiss of desperation while his hand returned to your breast. He massaged the soft flesh, flexing his fingers deep into the mound. His lips quickly moved down to the rest of your body, stopping like his hand did on your breast earlier and taking your nipple in between his teeth. You let out a shrill cry and pressed your back up to meet his mouth. However, he kept moving his mouth down further until he reached your core. Mattheo's breath was hot against your sensitive skin, causing you to shiver with anticipation. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust, before dipping his head and running his tongue along your folds. You gasped, your hands instinctively grasping at the sheets beneath you. Your hand flew to his hair, but he laced his fingers with yours and held it against the bed. His skilled mouth worked you into a frenzy, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue. Your hips bucked against his face, seeking more friction, more pleasure. You chanted his name and squeezed his hand tighter as his tongue worked you. Mattheo's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued. You could feel the pressure building, a coiling heat in your lower abdomen that threatened to consume you. Just as you were about to reach your peak, Mattheo pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. 

“Mattheo, I was so close-” You whined pathetically. Mattheo shook his head with a sinister grin. 

“That’s for your attitude and your cheeky little smirk earlier,” Mattheo licked his lips of your arousal. He crawled back up your body, pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only intensified your desire. His hand trailed down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He hooked his hands under your legs and pulled you closer to him while pressing your knees to your chest. You felt the blunt tip of his arousal pressing against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. Mattheo's eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with need.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you, stretching you deliciously. You both moaned in unison as he filled you completely. Mattheo stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. It was different than the purely needy fever from last night, as if he trying to claim every inch of you. His forehead rested against yours, your breaths mingling in the charged air between you.

“Fuck. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your size,” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut so that you would only be able to feel his every inch working you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. Mattheo obliged, starting with slow, deep strokes that had you gasping for air. His hips rolled against yours in a steady rhythm and he intertwined your hands with his, pressing you down into the bed while he started to move faster. You struggled to open your eyes as he started to scratch the spot you needed, but you knew that he would’ve wanted you to look at him.

“And I don’t even need to ask,” Mattheo snapped his hips with a grunt. “Such a good girl.”

The intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear as he watched your every reaction, savoring each gasp and moan that escaped your lips. Mattheo's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he drove deeper into you. You mewled with every movement of his hips and let his name roll off your lips in drunken lust. The previous coiling heat in your abdomen returned with a vengeance, threatening to overwhelm you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you clung to him, desperate for more. Mattheo seemed to sense your need, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. The pressure built higher and higher, your body trembling on the edge of release.

“Please, Mattheo,” You begged helplessly, bringing your hips up to meet his. Every word that followed was a filthily desperate drawl. “I’ve been good! You said I was good… I’m your good girl.”

“What a dirty mouth, but you can do better than that,” Mattheo dug his fingers into your thighs with a matched need.

“Mmm- I’m so close. Please, can I cum? Please,” You pleaded with no shame. Mattheo let out another growl and moved his hand down to your clit. 

"That's it, let go for me," Mattheo panted, watching you come undone beneath him with dark, hungry eyes. The combination of his skilled fingers and relentless thrusts pushed you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your walls clenching around him as you cried out his name. Mattheo groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. Your vision blurred with the white hot stars of desire and Mattheo followed soon after. Your body trembled as aftershocks rolled through you, but Mattheo didn't slow his pace. He gripped your hips tightly, angling you just right as he pounded into you. The overstimulation bordered on too much, yet you craved more. 

The moment stalled when Mattheo’s hips did and your breath finally caught up to you. He collapsed on the bed next to you, practically on top of you because of the small space. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your body still tingling from the intense climax. Mattheo's warm weight pressed against you, his skin slick with sweat. You turned your head to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and tousled hair. His eyes met yours, softer this time. He pressed a kiss on your forehead and lightly massaged your still-trembling thighs. Your fingers lazily traced patterns on Mattheo's chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. He hummed appreciatively at your touch, his own hand skimming up and down your spine.

"That was..." You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Incredible? Mind-blowing? The best you've ever had?" Mattheo patted down your wild hair. 

"Don't get cocky," You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. Mattheo let out a laugh before rolling back over you and covering you in kisses while you squealed. With him hovering over you, you could only smile and drink in his beautiful face. The gentle curve of his jaw, the sparkle in his eyes, the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled at you - all of it belonged to you now. As his mouth met yours, you felt like the real champion.

Divider by @chachachannah

Healing Touch

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader (QuidditchPlayer!Mattheo x Healer!Reader)

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, vaginal sex, F/M, fingering, aged-up characters, semi-public sex, Hogwarts Uni AU

Summary:

You give an alternative form of medicine after an injury lands star Quidditch player, Mattheo Riddle, in your care.

Friday nights always brought a familiar routine - milling around the bustling infirmary, secretly hoping for some excitement to break up the monotony. You couldn't help but feel a small twinge of guilt at your thoughts, wishing for someone to get injured during the intense Quidditch game and be sent to you for patching up. But most of the time, it was just a steady stream of students in need of minor first aid and basic pain relief potions after the games. And yet, despite the lack of excitement, you found comfort in these quiet evenings spent with Madam Pomfrey, the kind-hearted matron who ran the infirmary. Your friends may have called it "sad," but you found solace in her company and often lost track of time as you engaged in riveting conversations with her. You were no stranger to the infirmary; you had been under her watchful advisory since secondary school and working your way to a full time job at St. Mungo’s upon your graduation. It was almost therapeutic, in a way, to escape from the chaos of game day and simply unwind with such a wise and motherly figure. 

Tonight, however, was different. It started off normal enough, with the most exciting prospect being refusing a stash of Mallowsweet leaves from kids looking to smoke the dried herb. That incident caused Madam Pomfrey to ask you to catalogue the stores, which you did happily while humming to yourself. Right before you could start, the infirmary doors busted open with a bang, startling you from your reverie. A group of students clad in green fangear from hats to painted faces rushed in, supporting a limp figure between them. Your heart raced as you recognized the unconscious form of Mattheo Riddle, his Quidditch robes torn and muddy.

"Bludger to the head," someone shouted as Madam Pomfrey hurried over. You sprang into action from your position, grabbing potions and bandages as the matron directed. For once, your presence wasn't just busywork; you were needed. 

Mattheo was carried in on a magic stretcher, curled up in pain and still spilling curses from his bruised lips. If it had been earlier in your youth, you would’ve assumed the Slytherin boy got into some fight. In your apprenticeship years in secondary school, you patched up your fair share of Mattheo Riddle confrontations of both parties. At some point, Mattheo turned himself around by channeling his anger into Quidditch and even ended up scoring a scholarship to the same uni as you. He was still a regular customer of yours, especially since he started setting his sights on playing professionally. And if you were honest with yourself, you liked the conversations you had with him while you held his hand and set a broken appendage with Skelegro or stitched him up after a nasty fall. Though your relationship was transactionally based, you found yourself referring to him as your friend. Mattheo was a natural charmer as well, and you had your fair share of flustered moments on an off-handed comment of his. Even if you preferred the company of Madam Pomfrey on Friday nights, you definitely favored a more flirtatious company.

You unloaded the star Quidditch player onto a hospital bed at the end of the hall for maximum privacy. You dismissed his friends with thanks and told them that they needed to leave if they wanted to see Mattheo get better. As you drew the curtains around Mattheo's bed, you caught a glimpse of his pained expression. Your heart clenched at the sight. Madam Pomfrey bustled over with her wand at the ready, muttering diagnostic spells under her breath.

"Mild concussion, broken arm, and a nasty laceration on his thigh. Nothing we can't handle, but it'll take some time. Fetch the Blood-Replenishing Potion and prepare a Calming Draught. I am going to the pitch to see if there are anymore injuries," Madam Pomfrey announced grimly. You nodded, hurrying to the potions cabinet. As you gathered the necessary vials, you heard Mattheo groan.

"Wha... happened?" Mattheo slurred, trying to sit up. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. You shushed him and held up the Calming Draught to his lips, coaxing the liquid into his mouth gently. You raked your fingers through his body to check for any more injuries, silently biting back your breath as you felt how hardened his muscles were. That’s wildly inappropriate, you scolded yourself. You mixed the Calming Draught with the ill-tasting Skelegro, hoping it would disguise the taste enough for him to stomach it. Mattheo was still hazy when you wrapped his arm in a sling and he found comfort in squeezing your arm to ease the pain. Normally, you would never let the identity of your patient cloud your level of care, but Mattheo was just different.

“You took a nasty fall during the game tonight. Hey, I… I’m going to have to remove your pants to get to that cut on your thigh,” You say shakily while slowly and gently peeling back the blood soaked bandage. The medic on the pitch did a haphazard job, which only brought him more pain. Mattheo let out a silent hiss through gritted teeth before he nodded. He tried to use his free hand to help you unlace the front of his uniform, but you waved him aside. With a slung arm, you had no option but to take pity on him. You undid his pants quickly while keeping an eye on his face to gauge his pain. For a man with a broken arm and a deep laceration on his upper thigh, he seemed to be more focused on you undoing his pants. He watched you in a labored mixture of panting and groaning, but he eventually conceded to the pain and threw his head back with his eyes squeezed shut. You held up a drink spiked with Wiggenweld to his lips to distract him from the pain in his leg, but really you were trying to distract yourself from the sinful sight in front of you. 

“Bloody hell… Do you think they’ll let me play in the game next week?” Mattheo sipped on the pain relieving potion greedily. You watched him with matched greediness as he licked droplets of the potion off his lips and threw his head back. For your own sanity, you patted the corners of his mouth with a rag. Mattheo wrapped his hand around your arm in what you guessed to be an attempt to steady himself, especially as you turned your focus back to his bloodied pants.

“I’m not sure, but if you let go of my arm, I can try to make sure that you do,” You teased gently, flexing your arm to signal him. Mattheo opened his eyes in embarrassment and released his iron-clad grip on your bicep. Normally, you wouldn’t have noticed, but his hand was so large that it completely wrapped around your arm and choked your blood supply. He apologized sheepishly, then delved his front teeth into his bottom lip while you finally pulled off his pants. “Tell me if it hurts any more, I can give you more Wiggenweld.”

“The pain’s not so bad… it’s more of a mental thing, I think,” Mattheo watched carefully as you started to clean the scape on his thigh. It was a nasty mark, but he seemed proud of it and didn’t regret the scar it would form if it meant securing the championship. You slowly massaged a salve into his skin, which made him shiver and jump.

“Mental?” You questioned without looking up. His words tightened a knot in your stomach but you persisted. Your hands dipped back into the pot of salve to add another layer but Mattheo grabbed your wrist.

“Please, you must hurry up. I don’t think I can handle you rubbing on my thigh much longer. It’s bloody torture,” Mattheo breath hitched as you twisted out of his grip and returned your hand back to his thigh. The knot from before threatened to jump out of your throat at his words, but you weakly laughed it off as you continued applying the cooling paste. The Quidditch player should’ve also won a championship for self-restraint, for even with your hands brushing the edge of his plaid boxers, he was well composed. You figured it was the pain from his injuries to save both of your egos.

“Maybe I like you in a compromising position. Makes you less… godly, I guess,” You joked with a soft smirk. Mattheo made an odd gurgling noise that sounded like a choked groan, but your back was turned to him while looking for a bandage. When you turned back around, Mattheo’s eyes were opened with a thigh-clenching darkness to them. Swallowing dryly, you chose to ignore it and started to bandage up his thigh. Mattheo’s fingers twitched at his side, as if he were trying to reach out. The wicked side of you just wished he would. “Too tight?”

“No, that’s fine... Fuck, maybe we should stop talking,” Mattheo snapped out of whatever trance he was in and sat up. 

“I don’t know… what you’re talking about…” You mentally kicked yourself at how timid you sounded. Mattheo leaned forward and grabbed your waist tightly with his free hand. You gasped at the way his fingers dug into your sides and the show of strength it was to make you crash into him. “Mattheo, this is highly inappropriate-!”

“Does that mean you’re going to stop me?” Mattheo’s voice dropped an octave and the bass vibrated your core. You shook your head with a stammer, but still you let Mattheo bring his warm breath from your ear to your jaw. 

“Madam Pomfrey- She might-” You struggled to keep your composure as to not give Mattheo the satisfaction. You suppressed a moan with a cough.

“Then you should be quiet, hm, love?” Mattheo grinned against your jaw before dragging his mouth down further. He pulled you against his sling, wincing only slightly as you pressed into his bad arm.

“You don’t even like me,” You said breathily, trying to convince yourself more so than the man trailing kisses down to your collarbones. “You’re just confused… or like… misguided because I healed you.”

“What do you know about me, love?” Mattheo removed his mouth so that he could look at you. He grabbed your face with a conviction that silenced you. His eyes were deliciously glazed with lust and you felt yourself start to slip into his clutches. He strategically placed his mouth anywhere on your face except for your lips. While it was a tantalizing jest, it was a strange reminder that this was just sex for him.

“Mmm… I know that I’m not letting you take me in the infirmary,” You hissed. Mattheo grinned while he pulled you closer onto him and pressed his thigh against your legs. Your body betrayed you and you let out a soft moan. 

“"How very stubborn of you..." Mattheo whispered in a low voice as he placed his mouth back on your neck. He attempted to bait you into grinding against him by rutting his thigh deeper into your core. "But... you're not fooling me. I know you're enjoying this just as much as I am..."

“It’s not a matter of enjoyment,” You stammer with a louder moan. Mattheo chuckled with satisfaction.

“Sure it isn't, love," Mattheo mocked, then he tugged free the buttons of your blouse. "Then tell me... why are you making those pretty little noises for me, hm?"

“You’re torturing me,” You pleaded. Mattheo's hand moved with a controlled eagerness, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your blouse. His eyes held a glint of satisfaction and mischief as he looked up at you. The intoxicating scent of Mattheo's cologne mixed with the scent of your own arousal filled the air, creating a heady and sensual atmosphere.

"Torture, is it? Well then, allow me to ease your suffering. Consider it repayment?" Mattheo's lips curled into a devilish smirk. “Oh, c’mon. You already took my pants off for me.”

Mattheo’s hand slipped beneath your loosened blouse, fingers tracing along your ribs. You shivered at his touch, your resolve weakening with each passing moment. Mattheo's mouth found yours again, his kiss hungry and demanding. This time, you responded with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair. He rolled his fingers into your bra and over your perched nipples. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest further into Mattheo's skilled hands. Your body craved him. He chuckled low in his throat, clearly pleased with your responsiveness.

“Tell me you want this,” Mattheo’s words bubbled in his throat. With the use of only one hand, he made use of the situation and dragged his mouth down to your chest instead. The second his teeth grazed the sensitive skin, you swallowed a loud moan and pulled tightly at his curls. The pain made him growl and he only repeated himself. “Tell me you want me.”

“Do I really need to stroke your ego right now?” I chuckled back a moan. Mattheo bit the skin of your breast, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to be a warning. Your thoughts melted into nothingness as his tongue began to soothe the spot he had just bitten. His hand now delved under your dress hem and his fingers swirled around the top of your panties. He snapped the waistband tauntingly with an eyebrow raised at your insolence. 

“You could always stroke something else,” Mattheo murmured. He twisted a fistful of the top your panties, the digging fabric providing a taste of friction. His voice dropped down to a threat. “I’m not asking now. Tell me.”

"Mattheo, please," You whimpered, your hips unconsciously shifting towards his teasing fingers. He released his hold and instead yanked off the thin fabric. Paranoia stirred inside you and you quickly looked around the quiet infirmary to see if your boss would catch you. Madam Pomfrey must’ve actually left and entrusted the clinic in your care. Though not the moment to think of it, it warmed you with a sense of pride. You tried to focus on that thought instead of diving headfirst into Mattheo’s fantasy.

"That's not quite what I asked for, darling. Try again,” Mattheo clicked his tongue, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. He had incredible patience with you, but you just thought it was because he liked to see you in such a compromised position. He dragged an ant agonizingly slow finger up your slit while still keeping his eyes locked onto yours. You gasped at the contact, which only made him move slower.

“I want you, Mattheo, please,” You were rambling at this point, much to Mattheo’s satisfaction. His eyes darkened with desire, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Please, you have to hurry. Someone could walk in.”

"That's more like it," Mattheo purred, his finger now circling your most sensitive spot. The corners of his lips quirk up in a wicked grin, his dark hair falling in disarray around his face. You were officially delirious with lust. "But I think I'll take my time. The risk makes it more exciting, doesn't it?"

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as Mattheo increased the pressure, your hips bucking involuntarily. The fear of being caught warred with the intense pleasure building within you. You couldn’t believe you were actually excited at the prospect of getting caught. Mattheo nuzzled your neck, encouraging you to tilt back your head back to expose your neck. His lips trailed hot kisses along your throat, occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. At the same time, he curled his middle finger into your heat while stifling your moan by dragging his tongue in your mouth. 

“If you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to stop. Do you want that, love?” Mattheo sunk his teeth into your earlobe and inserted his forefinger. “Fuck, are you sure you can handle anymore? You’re already getting off on just my fingers. Maybe this is enough for you.”

“No! No… Please, Mattheo…” Mattheo’s fingers were a delicious stretch, his hands large and rugged from his sport. They were nothing compared to yours and when he moved his thumb over your clit, you had to bite his shoulder to stop yourself from crying out. You barely caught yourself in time and forced yourself to silence your moan into a whimper. He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your desperation. 

"Please what?" Mattheo taunted, still continuing the ministrations of his fingers. He move his mouth back to your breasts, which only intensified the molten lava in your veins. You sucked in every moan with a tremor. "Tell me exactly what you want, love. I want to hear you say it."

"I... I want you inside me," You managed to gasp out between embarrassment and overwhelming desire. "All of you. Now."

Mattheo growled low in his throat, his patience and control finally snapping. In one fluid motion, he pulled you back into his hospital bed, which groaned loudly in a threatening exposure. You straddled him on the thin mattress, giving you a wonderful view of his darkened face. His hands made quick work of your remaining clothes as he positioned himself between your thighs.

"Remember," Mattheo warned, while he pressed the head of his length against your opening. "Not a sound."

You nodded frantically, biting your lip hard as Mattheo slowly pushed inside you. You buried your face deep into the crook of his neck and let out the moan you’ve been holding back escape. The stretch was exquisite, bordering on painful, and you had to concentrate every fiber of your being on staying quiet. You chanted his name into his neck as a prayer to stay quiet. Mattheo's eyes were dark with lust as he watched your face, clearly enjoying your struggle to remain silent. 

"God, you feel amazing. So tight, so perfect for me," Once he was fully sheathed, Mattheo paused, giving you a moment to adjust. The two of you were artfully balanced between his injuries, which provided you a small distraction from falling over the edge of your climax too quickly. You whimpered softly in response at his words, rolling your hips to encourage him to move. Mattheo took the hint, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with a powerful snap of his hips. The bed creaked ominously, and you both froze for a moment, listening for any sign that someone had heard. Mattheo snickered at your paranoia. When no one came, you gripped his shoulders and started to move yourself on his length again.

“Am I hurting you?” You asked shakily, feeling the bandage from his thigh rub up against yours. Mattheo let out another low laugh.

“I should be asking you that,” Mattheo’s voice was deliciously raspy in your ear and his chuckle made your knees weaken. You could barely hold your pace. Mattheo dug his fingers into your ass before giving it an intense smack that drove the pleasure in your stomach deeper. Surprisingly, he let you take control, but he still moved his fingers back and forth from swirling on your clit to your nipples.

“Your leg… your arm… I mean- Oh…” 

“I’m fine, love. Don’t worry about me. you take me so well,” Mattheo assured. He brushed the hair out of your face and tugged it back to see your plain face. Your eyes fluttered shut as pleasure coursed through you, but Mattheo's grip on your hair tightened. "Look at me. I want to see every expression on your face."

On his command, you forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The vulnerability of being so exposed, both physically and emotionally, sent a shiver down your spine. Mattheo's eyes softened for a moment, a tender smile playing at his lips before desire overtook him again. He began to thrust up into you, matching your rhythm. The new angle had you seeing stars, and you bit your lip hard to keep from crying out. Mattheo's hand left your hair to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing over your abused lower lip. 

“I’m close,” You whispered almost shamefully, panting at how hard you were trying to stay quiet. As you whispered, your face contorted with pleasure and your eyes squeezed shut. The flush of arousal spread across your cheeks and down your neck, your lips red and swollen from being bitten. Mattheo's gaze was locked on you, devouring your every expression, his own face twisted with lust and desire. 

“You better look at me if you want to cum. I want you to look me in the eyes while you make a mess of yourself all over me,” Mattheo commanded with a growl. You snapped your eyes open, which was rewarded with a hand on your clit. He circled it with tighter grouping and precision, making it all the harder to stay silent. “Fuck, you’re impossibly tight. Fuck- Say my name when you finish, mmm.”

Steadying yourself with your hands planted firmly on Mattheo’s chest, you gave your hips one final grind as you felt him pull himself all the way out and slam himself back in. Without shame or remorse, you loudly cried out his name which was enough for Mattheo to spill himself inside of you. Your last moans and cries fill the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping against skin and heavy breathing. Mattheo finished with a grunt, his voice rough and primal. You pushed yourself off of him with a shudder and a shaky breath, barely being able to stumble into the chair that you had pulled up in the first place to treat him. 

“You should prescribe me this sort of medicine more often, gods,” Mattheo still looked heavenly while leaned back, flushed with a sweaty post-coital glow. “Do you think Madam Pomfrey will write me a note for a daily dose?”

“A daily dose? You’re presumptuous,” You finally catch your breath while you button back up your dress. The hard reality of your actions rear its ugly head at you as Mattheo grunts in a real pain and you rush to give him the rest of the Wiggenweld tincture.

“What? Do you need a preexisting condition of being exclusive or something? I’m serious,” Mattheo finishes the potion and wraps his hand into yours. You let out a laugh of disbelief. Non-committal was amongst the high praise for the Quidditch player.

“I’m just your Healer, I really shouldn’t have done that…” You shake your head and finally get the balance to stand. You smooth the wrinkles of your dress and weakly smiled at the injured man. “I basically took advantage of you, Mattheo.”

“It wouldn’t be that way if you were mine,” Mattheo sat up and grabbed you with his free hand. He sprung up from the hospital bed, his grip tightening around you like a vice. His eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity as he closed the distance between you, his breath a hot reminder of the events that had just transpired. “I’ll let you think about it. But I amserious about that prescription, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You stood frozen as Mattheo released you and sauntered out of the room, his confident stride belying the injury that had brought him there in the first place. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and the lingering scent of his cologne. You were so screwed.

Part 2

Divider by @chachachannah

𝐇𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫? - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲

Dark!Series| hacker x reader | ☾𖤐🐈‍⬛📱⛓ | Series Masterlist | Masterlist |

Synopsis - When a hacker starts exposing the darkest secrets of the students to the entire school, the socially isolated yet unnervingly perceptive Y/N becomes obsessed with unmasking the culprit, even as the chaos spirals into something far more sinister. Based on the TV series Control Z .. If you've already watched the series then it'll be easy to figure out who the hacker is but if not.... Enjoy..

This Chapter - Public Enemy....

Word Count - 1947 Warnings - Bullying, teasing, taunting, smart class mates, blackmail, wolfstar, Continuing on with Y/N waking up in Mattheo’s bed, James potter appearance, Y/N and Mattheo tell Lupin and Dumbledore, Lupin knows it’s Mattheo, Pansy comes to visit Daphne, pleading for forgiveness, Angry!Harry, Jealous!Mattheo.

Y/N stirred slowly, her head heavy with sleep as she became aware of the warm, solid presence beneath her.

Blinking against the soft light of the early morning, she realized she was nestled in Mattheo’s arms.

His familiar scent surrounded her, a mix of musk and something faintly sweet. His chest rose and fell steadily under her cheek, and for a moment, she forgot everything else—the fights, the chaos, the confusion that had consumed her life lately.

Mattheo shifted slightly, groaning as he adjusted his position, his arm tightening around her.

“Morning, love,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “Comfortable down there?”

Y/N let out a soft, tired laugh, her body still heavy with exhaustion. "Too comfortable."

They lay there in silence for a few moments longer, the early morning sun spilling through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room.

But as reality crept back in, Y/N shifted in his arms, remembering all the things they still had to deal with. She struggled to sit up, her body protesting the movement.

Mattheo smirked, his dark curls falling over his eyes as he peered down at her.

“You know, we could just skip class today,” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “Pretend none of this exists and stay right here.”

Y/N shook her head, her lips curving into a reluctant smile.

“We can’t. We need to tell the professors what we found about Harry,” she said softly, though part of her wished she could take Mattheo up on his offer. “This is important.”

Mattheo groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the pillows. “You’re no fun,” he teased, but there was a glint in his eyes, something playful yet affectionate.

Y/N nudged him with her elbow, but her smile faltered as memories of the previous night flashed through her mind—the argument with Harry, the tension, the doubt.

Mattheo, sensing the shift in her mood, pushed himself up on one elbow, his expression softening as he looked at her.

“What made you come to me last night?” he asked, his voice gentle. “You seemed upset… really upset.”

Y/N hesitated, looking away from him as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater.

“I… I don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured, trying to deflect, her heart pounding in her chest.

But Mattheo wasn’t so easily swayed. He placed his hand on hers, his thumb tracing gentle circles across her skin.

“Y/N… talk to me,” he coaxed, his tone warm but insistent. “What’s going on?”

She sighed, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. Part of her wanted to tell him everything—the guilt, the confusion—but the other part wanted to bury it deep and never speak of it again.

“It’s… complicated,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

Mattheo was quiet for a moment, then he nodded, pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

“Alright,” he said simply. “I’m not going to push you. But just know, I’m here… whenever you’re ready.”

Y/N closed her eyes, relaxing into his embrace, grateful for his patience. But there was a nagging thought in the back of her mind, something that wouldn’t let go.

As she nestled into him, his words from earlier lingered in her mind.

"The easy things aren't worth it," he whispered, echoing the phrase so effortlessly, so naturally.

Y/N froze for a second, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind raced. That phrase—the easy things aren't worth it—she’d heard it before.

But it wasn’t from Mattheo. It was from the hacker, the one who had sent her all those cryptic messages at Mattheo’s party.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. Mattheo met her gaze, his dark eyes soft but unreadable. He didn’t seem to notice the shift in her demeanor, or if he did, he wasn’t letting on.

Her lips parted, words on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated. Could it be a coincidence? Or was there something more? She swallowed hard, shaking her head to clear her thoughts.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, noticing her sudden shift in expression. “What’s that look for?”

Y/N forced a smile, shaking her head again. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just… tired, I guess.”

He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

“Alright,” he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “But remember… the easy things, they’re never worth it. What we’re doing—figuring this out, getting through it—that’s what matters.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, the phrase ringing in her ears again. She smiled, but her mind couldn’t stop racing, unable to shake the gnawing feeling that something was off, something she couldn’t yet piece together.

“Come on,” Mattheo said, pulling her gently to her feet. “Let’s get this over with. Professors love a good conspiracy, right?”

Y/N laughed softly, though her mind was still swirling with doubt.

As they made their way out of the room, her hand in his, she couldn’t help but glance at him, wondering how much more there was to discover beneath the surface.

Whatever it was, she was about to find out.

Mattheo and Y/N stood outside Professor Lupin's office, a sense of urgency radiating between them.

Y/N could feel the weight of the video in her hands, its implications heavy with the tension of the moment. She glanced at Mattheo, who was pacing impatiently, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, trying to gauge his resolve.

Mattheo paused, meeting her gaze. "We have to show him, Y/N. If we think Harry’s the hacker, this could be the proof we need."

With a determined nod, she pushed open the door. Professor Lupin looked up from his desk, surprise flickering across his face at their unexpected arrival. "Mattheo, Y/N, what brings you here?"

Mattheo wasted no time. "We need to show you something." He handed the video over to Y/N, who had already pulled up the footage on her phone.

As they played the video, Mattheo’s heart raced, knowing the stakes.

They watched in silence as Harry was caught on camera yelling at his friends, the tension palpable as Viktor jumped off the balcony, missing the pool completely.

Lupin leaned closer, his brows knitting together. “This is serious. If Harry is involved in anything…”

“It’s more than just involved,” Mattheo interjected, his voice laced with conviction. “We think he might be the hacker.”

Y/N added, “We found his bracelet at Cedric’s place. It’s all adding up.”

Lupin nodded slowly, processing the information. “I’ll need to look into this further. You both did the right thing coming here.”

As the meeting wrapped up, Y/N hesitated before speaking again. “Professor,” she said softly, “my mum… she regrets what she said that night. I think you should call her.”

Lupin’s expression softened. “Thank you for telling me, Y/N. I’ll reach out.”

The classroom buzzed with the energy of students chatting as McGonagall entered, her stern gaze immediately quieting the room.

“Mr. Potter, please come with me,” she called, her voice cutting through the chatter like a knife.

Y/N’s eyes darted to Mattheo, who raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk playing on his lips as Harry paled at the professor's command.

“Looks like he’s in trouble,” Mattheo teased, leaning closer to Y/N.

“Do you think he knows what’s going on?” she whispered back, concern lacing her voice.

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s just scared,” Mattheo replied, watching as Harry shuffled out of the classroom, glancing back nervously.

As Harry entered Dumbledore’s office, he was greeted not just by the headmaster but by his father, a looming presence that filled the room with tension.

“Dad?” Harry’s voice trembled, confusion etched across his face.

“Sit down, Harry,” his father commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Meanwhile, Y/N, feeling the weight of the situation, made her way toward Harry’s classroom, a sense of determination guiding her steps. As she approached, she saw Harry coming out, a look of distress clouding his features.

“What happened?” Y/N asked, concern flooding her voice.

“Why did you tell the professors I’m the hacker?” Harry shot back, anger and hurt mingling in his tone.

Y/N crossed her arms, her heart pounding. “Because you had my bracelet, Harry! We found it with Cedric's things. It just adds up!”

“Maybe it’s not what it seems,” he argued, his voice growing louder. “You don’t understand!”

“I do understand! You’re putting everyone at risk!” Y/N fired back, frustration boiling over.

As Harry and Y/N’s argument escalated, their voices echoed through the corridors, attracting the attention of nearby students. The tension between them, once simmering beneath the surface, had now fully erupted.

“I told you things, Harry!” Y/N shouted, her voice breaking with frustration and hurt. “I told you things I’ve never told anyone! And now… now I can’t even trust you.”

Harry’s face flushed with anger, his hands clenched at his sides.

“You still don’t trust me?” he shot back. “After everything we’ve been through? After everything I’ve done for you? You’re accusing me of being the hacker because of some bracelet?”

“You had it!” Y/N snapped, stepping closer to him, eyes blazing. “You had my bracelet, Harry. How am I supposed to believe you after all that’s happened? After Cedric, after everything with Viktor—”

“That’s not fair,” Harry interrupted, his voice rising. “You’ve never really trusted me, Y/N. Not fully. Not like you trust him,” he added bitterly, glancing toward Mattheo, who stood a few feet away, watching with his arms crossed.

The accusation hit Y/N hard, and she recoiled, hurt flashing across her face. “Harry, this isn’t about Mattheo—”

“It’s always been about him,” Harry growled. “Ever since he came into your life, everything’s changed. You’ve changed. You don’t see it, but I do.”

Before Y/N could respond, students nearby started murmuring excitedly.

"Is that... James Potter?" a voice whispered, followed by a chorus of awe-struck gasps.

Y/N’s gaze flicked toward the gathering crowd as they craned their necks to catch a glimpse of Harry’s father, the famous James Potter, standing at the far end of the hall. His presence was unmistakable, commanding attention like a star stepping onto a stage.

“That’s James Potter! The legendary Quidditch player!” one student gushed.

“Yeah, but look who’s with him—Sirius Black,” another added, their voice tinged with apprehension.

Harry glanced over, his anger fading into something far more vulnerable as he spotted his father and Sirius, who lingered nearby. Sirius stood in the shadows, his sharp gaze scanning the room, tension rolling off him in waves. Lupin, who had been standing further down the hall, froze as his eyes landed on Sirius. A mixture of longing and pain flickered across his face before he turned abruptly, disappearing down the corridor.

Y/N, catching sight of the hurt in Harry’s eyes, softened slightly. “Harry, I didn’t mean for it to be like this… I didn’t—”

“I thought we were past this, Y/N,” Harry said, his voice lower now, filled with the weight of disappointment. “I thought we were friends—more than that, even. But you don’t trust me. You never did.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Mattheo stepped forward, clearing his throat.

“Alright, Potter,” he said with a smirk, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “I think that’s enough of a scene for one day, don’t you?”

Harry shrugged off Mattheo’s hand, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “Stay out of this, Riddle,” he spat, and then stormed off toward his father and Sirius, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart heavy.

Mattheo watched Harry’s retreating figure, his smirk fading into something more calculating.

Theo, who had been watching from the side, approached Mattheo and asked, “Did you cause that?”

Mattheo gave Theo a smug grin, patting his back. “Of course I did, mate. Just helping things fall into place.”

Theo nodded, confused but trusting his friend’s confidence. He didn’t know the full extent of Mattheo’s plan, only that it somehow involved making sure Harry stayed out of Y/N’s life for good.

After the heated confrontation, Professor Lupin made his way back to his office, his mind swirling with a mixture of regret and unresolved emotions from seeing Sirius.

He was lost in thought, pushing open the door to his office—only to freeze when he saw Mattheo lounging casually in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, a smug grin on his face.

“Mr. Riddle,” Lupin said sharply, recovering from his initial shock. “What are you doing in my office?”

Mattheo tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Just waiting for you, Professor. You know, to wrap up our little business arrangement.”

Lupin's expression darkened. “I did what you wanted,” he said, his voice clipped. “Now delete the photo.”

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone with exaggerated slowness. “Of course, Professor,” he drawled. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

He showed the screen to Lupin as he deleted the photo—one that had captured Lupin and Sirius in a vulnerable, compromising moment earlier in the week. The headmaster’s shoulders eased slightly, but the tension remained.

“Stay away from Y/N,” Lupin warned, his eyes narrowing in a protective glare.

Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head. “No can do, Professor. She’s the reason this all started. And trust me, it’s far from over.”

Lupin clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, but he knew better than to engage Mattheo in a fight he couldn’t win. Without another word, Mattheo got up from the chair and strolled toward the door, his smugness palpable in the air.

As he passed Lupin, he added with a smirk, “See you around, Professor.”

Lupin watched him go, feeling the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. Whatever Mattheo’s endgame was, it was clear the young Riddle had no intention of letting Y/N out of his sights—and that worried him more than anything.

Astoria pushed open the door to the infirmary, her steps slow and deliberate as the usual sterile scent of the room washed over her.

She felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she approached her sister's bed. Daphne had been in a coma for days now, and every visit felt like an unbearable weight pressing down on her chest.

As she neared the bed, however, her eyes landed on an unexpected figure—Pansy Parkinson, slumped in a chair beside Daphne, her head resting awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, fast asleep. A blanket had been haphazardly draped over her shoulders, a telltale sign that someone had tried to make her comfortable.

Astoria stopped in her tracks, her jaw clenching. What is she doing here? A surge of anger and resentment coursed through her veins.

Pansy was the last person she wanted near her sister. If it weren't for her and whatever chaos she had stirred up with Daphne, none of this would have happened.

Astoria was about to storm over and confront her when Madam Pomfrey appeared from the shadows, her soft but firm voice cutting through the tension.

"Astoria," Pomfrey said, stepping closer, her hands folded in front of her.

"Pansy's been here all night. She refused to leave."

Astoria’s lips curled into a sneer, her voice low and biting.

"She doesn’t belong here. She’s the reason Daphne’s in this state." She glanced over at Pansy, her voice dropping to a hiss. "She should be gone."

Madam Pomfrey sighed, her expression sympathetic but resolute. “I understand how you feel, but she’s been beside Daphne’s bed since yesterday evening. She hasn’t eaten, hasn’t slept properly. I tried to send her away, but…” She trailed off, glancing back at the sleeping girl with a mixture of pity and frustration.

Astoria glared at Pansy’s figure, her hands balled into fists. Her instinct screamed to wake her up, to demand that she leave and never come near Daphne again. But before she could act on her impulse, Pansy stirred.

With a soft groan, Pansy lifted her head from the bed, her eyes swollen and bloodshot from a night of crying.

She blinked in confusion for a moment, registering Astoria’s icy gaze and Madam Pomfrey’s concerned look. Then, realization struck her like a wave, and she sat up quickly, her voice hoarse.

“Astoria… please,” Pansy rasped, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes were wide, filled with remorse and desperation.

“I’m so sorry. I… I never meant for this to happen.”

Astoria’s lips pressed into a thin line, her anger barely contained. She crossed her arms, looking down at Pansy with a mixture of disdain and frustration.

“Sorry?” she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you really think ‘sorry’ fixes this?”

Pansy’s face crumpled, tears welling up in her eyes again as she shook her head. “No… no, it doesn’t. But I—I didn’t know it would go this far. I never wanted Daphne to get hurt. Please, Astoria, just let me see her. Let me say… something. Anything.”

Astoria clenched her jaw, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. She wanted to yell, to scream at Pansy for what she’d done. But something in the broken way Pansy begged—something raw and human—made her hesitate. She could see it, the guilt eating Pansy alive, the helplessness that mirrored her own.

Madam Pomfrey gently placed a hand on Astoria’s shoulder, her touch a calming presence.

"Let her be. She might not deserve your forgiveness, but she needs to make her peace."

Astoria swallowed hard, every fiber of her being wanting to refuse, to throw Pansy out of the room.

But when she glanced at Daphne, pale and unmoving in the bed, something inside her softened. With a sharp exhale, she nodded reluctantly.

“Fine,” she muttered coldly. “But don’t expect anything from me.”

Pansy didn’t say a word. Instead, she dragged herself out of the chair and approached Daphne’s bedside. The closer she got, the more her body shook. She hesitated for a moment, as if unsure she even had the right to touch Daphne’s hand. Then, her knees buckled, and she collapsed beside the bed, her fingers gently wrapping around Daphne’s cold hand.

“I’m sorry,” Pansy whispered, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry, Daphne… for everything.”

Her sobs filled the quiet room as she clung to Daphne’s hand, her head resting against the mattress.

Her body shook with the weight of her grief and regret, the guilt pouring out of her in heavy, agonized waves.

Astoria watched from a distance, her heart heavy, conflicted.

As much as she resented Pansy, as much as she wanted to hold onto the anger, seeing her like this—broken and pleading—made it harder to maintain her fury.

Pansy’s words were a barely coherent mess of apologies and sobs, her voice growing weaker with each one.

"Please wake up, Daph… I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Just… please."

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped, the only sound in the room being Pansy’s muffled cries. Astoria stood still, arms crossed, the weight of the moment sinking into her bones.

Madam Pomfrey, sensing the thick tension in the air, gave Astoria a reassuring nod and quietly stepped out of the room, leaving them in private.

Pansy didn’t move from her spot, her forehead resting on Daphne’s hand, her tears soaking into the sheets.

Astoria stayed where she was, her eyes flickering between her sister and the girl who had caused so much chaos.

But despite everything, despite the hurt, Astoria allowed it. Just for this moment.

Because maybe, just maybe, Pansy was as lost in this as she was.

Next Chapter (coming soon)

Taglist:

@helendeath @modesttiger @pompeygirl89 @mayamonroem @roseofsharron438 @iamgonnagetyouback  @glittervame

Your Teddy - Theodore Nott x f!reader (PART 2)

Requested: No

Pairing: Theodore Nott x f!reader

Summary: Theo helps y/n get the pieces of her former life together.

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: Lots of talking, mentions of drinking, English is not my first language

A/N: The next part should be the last one. Let me know if you want to be tagged! Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! GIF is not mine.

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @cyriellee42 @littlepippilongstocking @lovetaylorrussellgrr @sequoiavink @cloudyyydayzzz @lovefushi @esmerai-artemis @atadoddinnit

PART ONE

Sitting on his dorm’s hard floor, his back against the door, Theo grabbed the bottle again and brought it to his mouth. He felt the burning liquid going down his throat, and while it actually did hurt, it was nothing compared to the pain he had been feeling since he learned a few hours ago that y/n didn’t remember anything - didn’t remember him. 

“I, um...I’m sorry, but... who are you?”

She doesn’t remember. The thought was like a thousand knives in his heart. She didn’t remember all the dates they went on, how much they laughed and talked during them, all their time spent just the two of them, just enjoying being together, their first kiss and those that followed, the first time Theo told her he loved her, the first time she told him she loved him, all their cuddles and nights spent embracing each other or spent loving each other, all their hugs, all the time they comforted each other - how she comforted him after his mother passed away and, every year, on her death anniversary. How much they loved each other - how much she loved him. That was the worst part. He could tell y/n about the moments they spent together, where and how their first kiss was. He could also show her how much he loved her and why they dated in the first place, but what if she couldn’t fall in love with him again? What if she wanted nothing to do with him? 

His stomach twisted at the thought, and he drank again. One part of him refused to think that y/n, having a big heart full of patience and understanding, wouldn’t at least give him a chance, but the other part of him, the one who always told him how she deserved better than him, told him otherwise. Theo had felt alone when his mother died, but the feeling had faded away when he and y/n started dating. It came back with y/n’s disappearance, and was worse than ever. No one had ever loved him besides his mother and y/n, and now he had lost both. Of course he had friends, and he deeply cared about them, but it wasn’t the same. They only knew the happy, sarcastic, careless Theo, not the true version of Theo who felt things deeply, was really insecure and kept wondering why his father didn’t seem to care about him at all. He felt tears suddenly running down his cheeks, but didn’t care. 

All of a sudden, Theo heard a knock on the door. He closed his eyes - which he would have probably rolled if he had enough energy and less alcohol in his body - in annoyance and was about to pretend not to be here when he heard a familiar voice. 

“Theo, open the door.” 

Mattheo knocked again after speaking. Sighing, Theo grabbed the bottle and managed to get up, finding himself feeling incredibly dizzy when he opened the door. Mattheo came in, and Theo went to sit on his bed. Mattheo closed the door behind him, and raised an eyebrow.

“Merlin, it’s even worse than I thought.” 

Theo, who now had a terrible headache, looked at him. “What?”

“Your ass is drunk. Like you had been for the past three months.” 

“So what?” Theo snapped coldly. 

He could find in him to tolerate his best friend coming to check up on him and comforting him, but not a lecture. They both had shitty fathers - and a crazy ass woman as a mother for Mattheo -, and had bonded over it, but Mattheo hadn’t always been single, and therefore couldn’t truly understand how Theo felt, as much as he tried. 

“I suggest you quit drinking, get a shower, eat something and clean up this room, because a little bird named Pansy told me y/n is leaving the hospital wing tomorrow. Do you want her to see you like that?”

Theo ran a hand through his face, frowning. “What?” 

“Mrs Pomfrey was able to heal all y/n’s injuries,” Mattheo said, and then his gaze softened. “Except for her memory loss.” 

Theo looked at the ground, and Mattheo slowly came to sit beside him on the bed.

“I’m sorry, mate. I mean it.”

Theo couldn’t say anything as he left that if he did, he would cry, and there was a short moment of silence before Mattheo spoke again.

“You know, y/n only came back today. They still can find a remedy. Pansy said they’ll look in other books.” 

“Did she find out why?” Theo asked in a hoarse voice. 

“No. It might be from trauma, a potion or a spell. They’ll probably do other tests.” 

“Did they come?” Theo asked. “Her parents, I mean?”

“Yes. They were…upset, of course. Pansy was here when they saw y/n. They asked her to come home for at least a few days, but she refused.” 

The thought was y/n wasn’t alone while meeting people who were now basically strangers made him feel better, but it was at this moment that Theo realised how selfish he had been. He had lost his girlfriend, the girl he imagined spending the rest of his days with, but y/n had lost everything. Everything she had known and was used to - from family and friends to her childhood home and the school - were now foreign to her. And instead of being there for her, he was fucking drinking. 

“She’ll need you,” Mattheo continued. “You were a big part of her life.” 

“I want to help her,” Theo answered. “But…What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

Mattheo had a half-smile, “No chance, mate. She asked Pansy about you.” 

Theo’s heart almost skipped a beat, and he turned to his friend. “Really?”

Mattheo nodded, “Yeah. I don’t know the details, but she did ask questions, and apparently she felt guilty when she saw you leaving. So, as I suggested earlier, we’re gonna clean up this room, and while you take a shower, I’ll go get us something to eat. Alright?”  

Feeling a bit better - but still ashamed - Theo nodded, and Mattheo gently pushed his shoulder. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next morning, Theo woke up with one of the worst hangovers he ever had. He had a terrible headache, and any light hurt his eyes, but he wasn’t as tired as he thought he would be, probably because he had a dreamless night which allowed him to get some rest. He took a shower, and, realising it was already 10 am, he quickly put his clothes on, arranged his hair, and went down to the Great Hall. He sat down next to Lorenzo, planning to eat quickly and then go see y/n in the hospital wing. He had to apologise to her for leaving as he did the day before, and planned on at least a real conversation. 

As he ate, Theo felt his frustration grow. This isn’t what he had planned for her return. He had planned to get her flowers and many gifts, and to cuddle for days, trying to make up for the time lost. The cuddles were absolutely obviously out of the question now, and the gifts were maybe too much, but maybe flowers would still be a good idea? After all, maybe y/n would like to know that, unbeknown to her, she had a boyfriend who had missed her terribly while she was gone? He suddenly had the image of her in tears, alone in the dark, waiting for him to rescue her, losing all hope with each day passing. He shook his head, finished his plate quickly, and left the Great Hall, but he had barely taken a few steps when he saw two familiar silhouettes coming the opposite way. y/n and Pansy were laughing, and if you didn’t know y/n had lost her memory, you’d think she was still the same as she was before her kidnapping. y/n noticed Theo, and something in her behaviour shifted. 

“Ah,” Pansy said, “Hello, Nott. y/n, dear, I’m sure you remember Theo, who you saw yesterday?” 

y/n nodded. “Of course. Hi, Theo.”

“Hi, cara- y/n.”

E che cazzo, Theodore. Pull yourself together.

“I’m…glad to see you’re okay,” he managed to say. 

He meant it, but the words had a hard time coming out of his mouth, as if this new uncomfortable distance between y/n and him made everything awkward - this was also new, because even before they started dating, they had always felt incredibly comfortable and safe with each other. y/n suddenly cleared her throat, which brought Theo back to reality. 

“Hum, actually…I was wondering if we could talk?” 

It took Theo a second to realise she was speaking to him. “Talk?”

“Yeah, I…I mean, you were a part of my life, and I want to put all the pieces together.” 

Theo nodded. “Of course. Well, if you want, we can talk now?”

“Sure.”

She gave him a small, shy, adorable smile, one of those that had made him fall in love with her, but this time, instead of warming his heart, it almost broke him. Pansy excused herself and entered the Great Hall after gently squeezing y/n’s shoulder. Now that they were by themselves, the awkwardness was even worse, but all of a sudden, Theo realised he had looked at it the wrong way - sure they were now, in a way, strangers, but it didn’t have to be the end? Theo had been able to make her fall for him once, there was no way he couldn’t do it again, right? He’d just have to show her, show her exactly why she gave him a chance in the first place, and how much she meant to him. It would take time, of course, but y/n had been very patient throughout their relationship, and it was his turn now.

“Do you want to sit somewhere in particular?” he asked.

“I don’t know, was there…a particular spot we liked?” she said.

Theo immediately had an idea in mind. “Yes. Follow me.”

She followed him through the castle, and Theo noticed she looked around the castle like the first years did when they first arrived. Sometimes, her gaze would light up, and it was adorable to see. 

“Did Pansy show you around?” he asked.

“Not yet,” y/n said. “I think she plans on showing it as we go.”

Theo nodded slightly, “Well, if you prefer, I could give you a tour. The castle may seem big at first, but we usually get used to it quickly.”

y/n looked at him and gave him a half-smile, “I’d like that.”  

They both walked to a bench situated in a corner of the courtyard, a bit away from where the crowd of students usually went, so it allowed them some privacy. They sat side by side, and Theo felt both the need to put some distance between them and to eradicate any distance that existed. He had never been able to keep his hands off y/n, and always had a hand on her thigh or around her; always craving her touch. 

“So, do…Do you have any questions?” Theo asked, making sure to keep his hands to himself. 

“Well, a few, yes. But I guess I just want to get to know you.”

Theo turned to her and smirked, “Well, you already know my name. Though I have to say, my name is supposed to be Theodore but all my friends call me Theo. You, however, called me Teddy.” 

She stared at him for a second, “Teddy.” 

It felt so good to hear her call him that he almost forgot himself, almost hugging her right here and there, almost also forgetting that she probably would feel uncomfortable. 

“I’m in Slytherin just like you, and we’re in the same class, with Pansy and my friends. What else… I’m also Italian, so I’m bilingual.” 

“That’s cool,” she smiled. “Do I speak another language?”

“Well,” Theo hesitated, “you were learning Italian, and you were pretty good.” 

“And…when did we start dating?” 

Theo let out a slight sigh, “Our fifth year.” 

“Oh. And you met my parents?”

“Yeah. They were nice.”

Nice enough to allow someone like me to date their only child. 

“And have I ever met yours?”

Theo gulped and looked at his knees, “You never met my father. But I don’t see him very often, so…And my…mother died a few months before we started dating.”

y/n’s gaze from interest to surprise, sadness and compassion. “I’m so sorry, Teddy.”

“It’s okay. You helped a lot.” 

“I’m glad I did.” She then shook her head and sighed. “I really wish I remembered, you know. If there was any way, I would do it.” 

“I know.”

Because I’d do anything for you to remember, too.

“What’s the first thing you remember?” Theo said before realising it. 

“Hum, it’s not very clear, but I do remember that large guy…Hagrid, isn’t it?” Theo nodded and she continued, “I remember him holding me and telling me I was gonna be alright. He brought me back to the castle and to Mrs Pomfrey. I slept a little, she examined me, and then this professor, Professor Snape, and this other man - I think they said he’s the Headmaster here? - came to talk to me and told me they had been looking for me for months. I don’t know why but for some reason, I remember being a witch, so they didn’t have to tell me. Then Professor Snape left to tell my parents and then…you arrived.”

Theo blinked, “So you don’t remember what happened during…”

“My abduction?” y/n completed. “No, not a single thing. But it’s better this way, I think,” she added.

Theo nodded slightly, and there was a moment of silence, with only the conversation and laughs of other students for noise. Theo was glad she didn’t remember anything - even though he would always remember the images of her being tortured that had been looping inside his head - but he didn’t like the fact that those who abducted her and held her somewhere would never be punished for what they did. He had no clue of how long he had been lost in thoughts, but at some point, he realised y/n was staring at him. He turned his face towards her, feeling his cheeks becoming hot, and suddenly felt nervous.

“Do I have a third eye on my forehead or something?” he said with a nervous laugh.

y/n’s eyes widened and her own cheeks became pink in embarrassment before she looked at the ground. 

“I’m sorry, I…I guess I was trying to remember something. Anything.” 

Theo had a silent sigh and put his hand on hers, which sent shivers down his spine.

"I'll do anything I can to help you remember, y/n. And if I can't, I'll help create beautiful new memories."

Theo thought y/n's eyes were suddenly shining, and she gave him a small, thankful smile before joiging their hands together.

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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬

darkfic | Ghostface!Slytherinboys | 😈🔪🩸💀⚰️ | Masterlist

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Because it's Spooktober, and because an Anon asked for it. I decided to write some series and oneshots of Ghostface/Serial Killer Slytherin Boys plus Pansy. This will be a collection of those writings so enjoy . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

── .✦ Ghostface!Enzo Birkshire & Ghostface!Mattheo Riddle

Prologue - "You have a thing for masked men, love?" Chapter One - Mattheo Riddle & Enzo Birkshire Chapter Two - First Victim: Astoria Greengrass Chapter Three - Second Victim: Theodore Nott Chapter Four - "You need to wait" Chapter Five - Third Victim: Daphne Greengrass Chapter Six - Police Station Chapter Seven - Fourth Victim: Pansy Parkinson Chapter Eight - The Finale

── .✦ Ghostface!Theodore Nott

⭑.ᐟComing soon

── .✦ Ghostface!Pansy Parkinson

⭑.ᐟComing soon

── .✦ Ghostface!Tom Riddle

⭑.ᐟComing soon

Are you ladies alright?

Where Mattheo certainty didn't expect you of all people to open the door.

Mattheo riddle x reader. Fluff!!

 It was a typical Friday evening at Hogwarts, Marking the end of a busy week for everyone. Mattheo, Theodore, and Lorenzo were lounging in the Slytherin common room, bored out of their minds.

“Alright, I’ve got an idea,” Mattheo said with a smirk.

“What are you scheming now? Mattheo” Theodore asked, already suspicious.

Mattheo chuckled, tossing a ball of paper  he had folded up after fucking up his notes in charms and spilling ink over it. “You know that Muggle TikTok thing? Where a guy stands in front of a girl’s door, knocks, and someone throws a ball just in time for him to catch it and be all suave? I say we do it.”

Lorenzo laughed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Come on, you can’t tell me this won’t be fun. Besides, it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do.”

Theodore sighed but couldn’t hide his grin. “Alright, I’m in. Who’s the target?”

Mattheo’s eyes gleamed. “Let’s just start with Pansy’s dorm.”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “You're sure about that?”

Mattheo just shrugged, unbothered. “What could go wrong?”

The three of them made their way to the girls' dormitory, carefully slipping past a prefect who knew better than to stop them at this point. They reached Pansy’s door, and Mattheo took his place in front of it. Theodore held the ball, and Lorenzo stood a little to the side, ready to jump in if the ball Theo throws suddenly changed paths.

Mattheo knocked on the door, face completely calm as if this was the most normal thing in the world. They could hear what they assumed to be Pansy’s footsteps approaching, the door creaking open just a crack.

But instead of Pansy, you stood there.

You had been hanging out in Pansy's dorm, just chatting and relaxing after the hectic week you all had, completely unaware of the chaos awaiting you on the other side of the door. The moment you appeared, everything froze.

Theo, ready to throw, panicked slightly spotting you first. His throw went way off course and slammed directly into Mattheo's chest instead of near his head where his hands were cupped to catch. Mattheo winced, muttering a low "bloody hell" under his breath as the ball rolled off his chest. He quickly scrambled to grab it, hoping to salvage the moment.

Despite the mishap, Mattheo was determined to play it cool. He turned around, ball in hand, and prepared to deliver the line but then he saw you.

His breath caught in his throat. Instead of Pansy’s usual sarcastic smirk or dismissive eye roll, he was greeted by your soft, curious expression. For a moment, Mattheo’s mind went blank. You stood there, looking effortlessly radiant in the dim hallway light, and all of his usual confidence seemed to fade away.

You blinked at him, clearly confused but amused. A small, awkward smile played on your lips, as if you were trying to figure out what exactly was going on but found the whole thing oddly funny.

Mattheo stared for a moment too long, the ball still clutched in his hand as he tried to remember what he was supposed to say. His heart pounded in his chest, not because of the ball that had just hit him, but because he wasn’t expecting you to be the one opening the door.

Finally, he managed to find his voice, but it wasn’t the smooth, cocky tone he was aiming for. “Uh… are you ladies alright?”

It came out awkwardly, almost like a question he wasn’t even sure of himself.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, biting your lip to hold back more giggles. Your reaction made the whole situation even more endearing, and Mattheo felt his cheeks heat up, though he'd never admit it.

After a brief moment of awkward silence, you gave him a warm, amused smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah… we’re alright,” you replied with a chuckle, not really knowing what else to say. You shot a final glance at the trio behind him and then gently closed the door.

As soon as the door clicked shut, there was a beat of silence before Lorenzo and Theo erupted into laughter. Lorenzo clutched his stomach, practically howling. “Oh, Merlin Mattheo, you were speechless! Absolutely speechless!”

Theo wiped a fake tear from his eye, grinning wickedly. “You should’ve seen your face! All that attitude gone the moment you saw her. You looked like a lost puppy.”

Mattheo’s ears turned red as he glared at his two friends. “Shut up,” he muttered darkly, still gripping the ball in his hand as if it were Theo’s head he wanted to crush. “You’re the one who can’t throw for shit.”

“Oh, blame it on the throw, sure. But we all saw what really happened,” Theo teased, nudging Lorenzo. “Man gets taken down by a pretty girl. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Mattheo clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the flustered feeling creeping up his stoamch. “I’d worry about your Quidditch skills if I were you, Theo. Chaser with an arm like that? Surprised you haven’t been benched.”

Theo only laughed harder. “Mate, I don’t think Quidditch is the real problem here.”

Lorenzo, still grinning from ear to ear, slapped Mattheo on the back. “Hey, don’t worry, Riddle. It seems like you've finally met someone who knows how to make you shut the fuck up for once”  

Mattheo glowered at both of them, but deep down, his mind was still replaying the way you had smiled at him before closing the door.

Even if he’d never admit it out loud, he knew he was in trouble.