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sadnymi · 2 days

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「 ✦ I can fix him ( No really I can ). ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary:Y/n's obsession with Mattheo was evident; she stalked him everywhere, daydreamed about him, and planned ways to get his attention. However, even though he said he hated her, his actions didn’t quite align with those words.

Warnings: stalker!reader , unhinged!reader,obsessed!reader, misunderstood with anger issues reader too! +16 , strong language.

Words: 4.5k

The air hung thick with the smell of spilled Butterbeer and desperation. Wedged into a corner booth of theLeaky Cauldron, I felt like a fish out of water, albeit a very determined fish. My friends, Lily and Anthony, slumped beside me,faces pale and glassy-eyed.

They were the studious type, the kind who'd rather spend a Friday night poring over Herbology textbooks than navigating the dimly lit chaos of this questionable bar. But here they were, martyrs to my grand plan.

My obsession with Mattheo riddle wasn't a recent development. It had blossomed, nurtured by stolen glances across the Great Hall and late-night eavesdropping during our Hogwarts years. Sure, it bordered on stalkerish – I knew his favorite Quidditch teams, the brand of broomstick polish he swore by, even the obscure runes tattooed discreetly on his forearm. But hey,love knew no bounds, right? Well, at least that's what I kept telling myself.

"Y/N, for Merlin's sake," Lily muttered, her voice barely a whisper above the din of drunken wizard gossip, "can't we please go back to Hogwarts? My eyelids are heavier than a dragon's hide after a full moon."

I shook my head firmly, my gaze scanning the sea of faces. "Not yet," I hissed, the anticipation bubbling in my chest. "He should be here any minute."

"He who?" Anthony mumbled, his head lolling against the worn leather of the booth.

"Mattheo, of course!" I exclaimed, my voice a touch louder than necessary. Heads swiveled in our direction, and I quickly ducked my head, mortified.

"Y/N," Anthony sighed, "I can't believe you dragged us all the way out here for a guy who wouldn't recognize you if you levitated naked in front of him."

"He will," I declared, a stubborn glint in my eyes. "Just wait and see." I straightened my robes, trying to project an air of confidence that I definitely wasn't feeling.

As if on cue, the door to the Leaky Cauldron creaked open, and a wave of boisterous laughter flooded the bar. My breath hitched. There he was. Handsome as sin, his black hair tousled, A mischievous grin playing on his lips. He was everything I ever dreamt of and more.

A collective groan escaped my friends' lips as they followed my gaze.

He scanned the room, his gaze sweeping right past my carefully constructed hiding place. "Oh, lord help her," Lily muttered, her voice laced with a mixture of amusement and resignation.

I forced a dazzling smile, willing him to notice me. But alas, he remained oblivious, his attention captured by a group of giggling witches at the bar.

"Show some respect to my man," I declared, though Mattheo was still blissfully unaware of my existence.

"He's not your man, Y/N," Anthony pointed out, stating the very obvious.

"Not yet," I corrected, my smile widening. "But he will be."

They both shook their heads, exasperation etched on their faces. "Y/N," Lily hissed, her ethereal voice taking on a surprisingly stern tone, "do you have any idea what you're talking about?"

I clamped a hand over her mouth "I can fix him," I whispered, my eyes fixed on Mattheo.

My friends erupted in laughter, the sound harsh and grating in the smoky bar. "No, seriously, I can!" I insisted, but they just kept shaking their heads.

"I can't take this anymore," she declared, her voice ringing clear. "Y/N, you're delusional, and Anthony and I are enabling you. This ends now. We're going back to Hogwarts."

"Fine, go," I muttered, my eyes still glued to Matteo. "But I'm staying for a while."

The Leaky Cauldron door creaked shut behind them, leaving me alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces and swirling rumors. I nursed my lukewarm Butterbeer, stealing glances at Mattheo across the room. He was lost in conversation with his friends, his laughter tinged with an edge I couldn't quite place.

A shadow fell across my table, and I looked up to find a burly wizard with a sly grin. "Mind if I join you, pretty lady? My treat."

I shook my head politely, my gaze still fixed on Mattheo. "Thank you, but I'm waiting for someone."

He persisted, leaning in uncomfortably close. But before I could politely dismiss him again, a loud booming voice cut through the bar's cacophony.

It was Mattheo, his handsome features contorted in a scowl. He said something that made his friends erupted in laughter, egging him on. A secret smile played on my lips. There he was, the same arrogant, trouble-seeking Mattheo I'd known at Hogwarts.

As his laughter died down, his eyes scanned the room, landing me. A flicker of surprise, then recognition, crossed his face.

He nudged his friends aside, striding towards my table with a swagger. Just as he reached me, he punched a nearby table sending the unsuspecting wizard sitting next to me flying in the air. He landed with a thud on a group of unsuspecting patrons, who shrieked in surprise.

My heart hammered in my chest. This was it. The darkness in his eyes – I knew that look. At Hogwarts, it always meant trouble. And with wands banned outside of school grounds, trouble often meant a good old-fashioned fistfight.

Mattheo reached me, his eyes narrowed. He glanced at the groaning wizard on the floor, then back at me. "Is he dead?" I asked, smiling.

My gaze darted between Mattheo and the dazed wizard. The words died in my throat as he grabbed my arms, his grip surprisingly tight.

"Who are you?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

My carefully crafted facade threatened to crumble. Maybe my years of stalking – stalking? Observing! - hadn't been as effective as I'd hoped.

"Y/N," I stammered, my voice barely a squeak. "We have… two classes together… last year… remember?" I threw out the first things that came to mind, hoping to jog his memory.

He looked at me with raised eyebrows, a skeptical expression etched on his face. But before he could respond, he grabbed my arm again, his grip firm, and pulled me towards the bar's dimly lit exit.

"Okay, that's… kinda kinky," I blurted out. He stopped in his tracks, his mouth agape, as if unsure how to react to my strange comment.

"So… are you kidnapping me?" I continued, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind. I just wanted to know you better!"

He stared at me, incredulous. "A date first, wouldn't you say?" I added, a playful smile on my face.

Instead of replying, he pushed me against a wall, his frustration palpable. "Okay, that's a weird way to propose," I declared, a strange mix of excitement and fear bubbling in my chest. "But yes!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he said, his face inches from mine.

My mind was a whirlwind. He was close, impossibly close, and I couldn't think straight. But then again, I never could when it came to Mattheo Riddle.

"A lot of things," I mumbled, my voice barely audible. "So, which one are we talking about right now?"

His grip on my neck tightened, restricting my breath. Fear finally pierced through the haze of my infatuation. "Who sent you?" he spat. "I know you've been watching me since the beginning of the year. Tell me who sent you, or you're dead."

Dead? He thought I was a stalker, someone sent to spy on him? The truth was far more embarrassing – and much more obsessive. "Ouch," I croaked, trying to lighten the mood. "No one sent me.

He stared at me, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"I love watching people," I blurted out, a lame attempt at an explanation. His hand tightened around my neck, cutting off my air supply. I choked back a gasp, opting not to struggle.

"You are really into a lot of things," I wheezed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"This isn't a damn game," he growled, his face inches from mine. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"I know," I rasped. "And I'm telling you, no one sent me."

"So you just happen to be everywhere I'm in? Watching my every move is just a coincidence?"

"I do watch you," I confessed, meeting his gaze. The closeness was intoxicating, the scent of his cologne filling my senses.

"I, uh, I like you a lot and…" I stumbled over the words, my voice failing me.

He cut me off with a harsh laugh. "You like me a lot? So you just decide to stalk me?"

"Well, it's not… well, fine, yeah, but it wasn't that creepy, I swear!" I protested, flustered under his scrutiny.

"Go back to the castle. What did you say your name was? Y/N? Go back to the castle, and if I ever, ever saw you doing that again, I won't be this kind."

His words stung, a cold reality check washing over me. Yeah, maybe my grand plan of charming Mattheo hadn't gone exactly as planned.

"What if I don't want to?" I blurted out, blinking back tears I refused to let fall.

He sighed, frustration written all over his face. "Listen here," he said, pointing a finger between us. "This – this is not going to happen. Ever."

"Ever?" I echoed, a tiny voice in my head pleading with me to accept defeat.

He nodded. "Ever."

Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, a ridiculous statement popped out of my mouth.

"Well, I don't think so," I said, a playful smile replacing my tearful expression. "I think one day you'll be so in love with me you'll beg me to be with you."

Matteo's response was a hearty laugh. "Yeah? And what makes you think that?"

"Delusional, maybe?" I replied, mirroring his smile.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he finally released his grip on my neck. "Go back to the castle, Y/N," he repeated, his voice softer now. "I won't say that again."

I nodded, a bittersweet feeling settling in my stomach. "Yes, sir," I quipped, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

"What did you just call me?"

"Sir?" I repeated, a full smile blooming on my face.

"Don't you ever call me that again," he said, pushing his hair back in frustration.

"Fine, fine, I'm going," Stepping back. "But you know," I added, turning back to him, "being controlling isn't very healthy in a relationship." And with that I walked away the look in his eyes enough to make me run for my life.

A week crawled by. Every snide remark from Lily and Anthony about my "delusional crush" felt like another blow to my already bruised ego. Yet, a strange sense of pride bubbled beneath the hurt. I'd talked to Mattheo Riddle, gotten under his skin even. A win, as I kept telling myself.

The first time I saw him in the Great Hall after the bar incident, my heart did a somersault. He was across the room, his usual smirk plastered on his face as he bantered with his friends. But then, our eyes met. His gaze lingered for a fraction of a second longer than felt comfortable, and I quickly looked away, cheeks burning. Had he told his friends about the crazy stalker girl (me)? My stomach twisted in a knot.

Days blurred into one another, punctuated by stolen glances at Matteo in the Great Hall, Potions class, and even the Quidditch pitch (though I swore I wasn't there to see him play). Every time I felt his gaze on me, a wave of nervous excitement followed by a mad dash to the nearest deserted corridor. My behavior was erratic, even by my own standards.

Did that mean anything? Maybe. But probably not.

Dinner was a disaster. Every time I met Matteo's gaze, a jolt of excitement shot through me, followed by a wave of crippling anxiety. My hands trembled as I held my fork, and I managed to knock over my glass of pumpkin juice. A mortified squeak escaped my lips, and I felt the entire hall turn to stare.

I saw Mattheo. He smirked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. My mortification reached new heights.

I whispered to Lily. "I need to get out of here."

She nodded "Go," she mouthed.

Was I crazy? Obsessed? My friends were right. This was ridiculous. I couldn't keep acting like a lovesick fool.

Today professor Flitwick's voice echoed through the Charms classroom, "Today, we'll be practicing the Patronus Charm in pairs! Choose your partners wisely, as teamwork is crucial."

My heart skipped a beat. Partnering with anyone was nerve-wracking, but the thought of working with Mattheo sent a shiver down my spine. Of course, fate seemed to have a twisted sense of humor.

Just as I was about to pair with Anthony, Professor Flitwick called out, "Y/N (L/N) and Mr. Riddle, you'll be a fantastic team!"

Mattheo raised a questioning eyebrow, and I swear, I could hear the unspoken accusation, "Stalking me even into Charms class now?"

I held his gaze, a wry smile playing on my lips. "I swear I had no hand in this. Total coincidence."

Matteo leaned back in his chair, scanning me from head to toe with a slow, infuriating gaze. "Brave, are we?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"I know," I countered, a playful smile tugging at my lips.

"Actually," I continued, unable to resist, "this isn't the first time we've worked together in a class."

He scoffed. "Don't remember."

"Of course not," I muttered, a wry smile playing on my lips. "It was third year, Herbology, Professor Sprout gave us…"

Before I could finish, he cut me off. "Nope, still drawing a blank."

"Right," I said, pushing down a surge of disappointment.

We spent the next hour working on the charm. To Matteo's surprise, I grasped the Patronus concept quickly, flawlessly conjuring a shimmering silver stag. His own attempt sputtered out, a wisp of smoke.

"You're smart," he finally admitted, a surprised glint in his eyes.

"Yeah," I replied, a playful glint in my eyes, "I was a bit of a gifted child."

"Was?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Burnt out," I explained with a shrug. "Turns out being brilliant can be a drag."

A strange silence fell between us. He held my gaze for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.

"You're so annoying," he finally said, his voice gruff.

"So you keep saying," I retorted, a smile spreading across my face. "And yet, here you are, looking at me like you don't hate my guts."

He averted his gaze, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I don't like you," he mumbled.

"Whatever," I said, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "We're done, Professor!" I called out, grabbing my bag.

As I turned to leave, I couldn't resist one last look at him. He met my gaze, a smirk playing on his lips.

The following week felt like a bizarre role reversal. After our unexpected partnership in Charms class, Mattheo seemed to be the one doing the observing. It was a subtle shift, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but I felt it like a brand new tattoo – the intensity of his gaze burning into the back of my head whenever I wasn't looking.

It started subtly. During Defense Against the Dark Arts, I caught him staring at me from across the room as Professor Moody droned on about Unforgivable Curses. His gaze lingered a beat too long before he quickly averted his eyes, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

During lunch, I was engrossed in a lively conversation with Lily when I felt a familiar prickle on the back of my neck.Looking up, I saw Mattheo seated at the Slytherin table, a half-eaten sandwich abandoned in his plate . He met my gaze for the briefest of moments before scoffing and turning away to talk to Blaise Zabini.

Today as I trudged back to the castle after visiting Honeydukes. Lost in thought about the latest sugar concoction they were offering, I almost missed him. A flash of dark hair disappearing into the Forbidden Forest, followed by a flicker of red – blood.

My heart hammered in my chest. Was I imagining things? No, it was definitely blood. Curiosity, or perhaps something more, gnawed at me. Ignoring the voice of caution in my head, I veered off the path and followed him.

He emerged from the trees a short distance away, heading towards a small, ramshackle house nestled amidst the thick undergrowth. I watched from behind a large oak, my breath catching in my throat. He stumbled slightly as he reached the door, his face pale and drawn.

I should have turned around then, just left him to his secrets. But something held me rooted to the spot. A primal urge to help, a need to know what was going on.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the house, my hand hovering over the knocker. This was crazy. What if he was hurt? What if he was in trouble with someone dangerous?

The door creaked open before I could knock. Mattheo stood there, his face contorted in a mixture of surprise and anger. There was no mistaking it this time – his face was streaked with blood, and it seemed to be coming from a nasty gash on his forehead. But that wasn't all. Blood stained his clothes in several places, and a dark smear marred his cheek.

He looked like he'd been in a war.

"So, another fight?" I managed, my voice barely a squeak.

"I thought I told you to stop following me," he growled, his voice hoarse.

"I wasn't," I blurted out, ignoring the tremor in my voice. "I was just coming back from Honeydukes, and then I saw you…"

He rolled his eyes, but I could tell the anger was fading, replaced by a weariness that mirrored my own. Taking a chance, I stepped closer, ignoring the frantic beating of my heart.

"Let me help you," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "You can't go back to the castle like that."

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded. "There's a first-aid kit in the back," he muttered, stepping aside.

I pushed past him, following his directions, I found the kit and rummaged inside.

Taking a deep breath, I shrugged off my jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. The only light came from a single dusty window, casting long shadows across the room. Mattheo sat on the bed.

Silence hung heavy in the air as I knelt beside him. First, I cleaned the cut on his hand, the antiseptic sting making him wince.

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my shallow breaths. Finally, I reached his face, the most serious injury – a deep gash above his eyebrow.

Gently, I dabbed at the blood with a damp cloth, my movements slow and precise. As I cleaned the wound around his lips, I found myself looking directly into his eyes. They were a dark storm, swirling with emotions I couldn't decipher.

Suddenly, I was acutely aware of my position – kneeling between his legs, my gaze locked with his. "Good boy, all done," I whispered, my voice barely above a squeak. His breath hitched, hot against my face.

Then, a touch. His fingers brushed my cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through me. We were impossibly close, his gaze flickering between my lips and my eyes.

"What are you doing?" I stammered, barely recognizing my own voice.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Before I could react further, his lips were on mine. igniting a passion that had been building for so long.

His hands moved possessively to my waist, pulling me flush against his body.as our kiss deepened.

He pulled back abruptly, pushing me gently onto the bed.. "You taste so good," he murmured against my lips, his breath hot against my skin. "You’ve been driving me insane."

“ what spell did you cost on me ?”

I couldn't help but smile against his lips. "No spell, just pure chemistry," I whispered back, my fingers tangling in his hair. This was everything I'd imagined and more.

His hands roamed over my body, trailing fire across my skin, igniting a passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long. "Say you want me to stop," he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

But the words wouldn't come. I arched into his touch, my heart pounding with anticipation. "I don't want you to stop," I urged, my breath hitching as his lips trailed down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

His touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine. "I won't," he promised, his voice filled with a hunger that matched my own.

Just then, the world exploded around us. The front door creaked open, throwing harsh sunlight into the dusty room. Mattheo and I scrambled apart, guilt and confusion flooding my face.

"Well, first of all, what the hell? I thought you hated her," Blaise Zabini drawled from the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise. He shifted his gaze to Mattheo, a smirk playing on his lips. "How can you still get energy after that fight, Riddle?"

Heat flooded my cheeks as I scrambled to gather my things. "I have to go," I mumbled, my voice strangled.

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze fixed on me. Did he want me to stay? Did he...?

I couldn't bear to wait for an answer. As I rushed towards the door, I couldn't resist a final act of defiance. Stepping on Blaise's shoe with all my might, I gave him a withering look before exiting the ramshackle house.

I heard Blaise's surprised yelp “ She’s fucking crazy, man” followed by Matteo's low chuckle. A strange sense of satisfaction washed over me.

With a final shove, I pushed the rickety door shut behind me, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Blaise's bewildered face was the last thing I saw before I was plunged into the cool evening air. My cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and a thrilling, exhilarating heat.

The sound of Blaise's voice, laced with confusion, drifted out from the house. "Didn't you say you hated her or something?"

A tense silence followed. Then, I heard it – Mattheo's voice, low and gravelly. I held my breath, straining to hear his answer.

"Yes," he said, a single word that echoed in the stillness of the forest. "I still do."

A wave of disappointment washed over me, so strong it took my breath away. It all meant nothing. He still hated me.

Closing my eyes, I forced myself to move. My legs felt heavy, but I stumbled away from the house, deeper into the darkening forest. Maybe my friends were right. Maybe this whole obsessive crush had been a complete delusion.

The following days were a masterclass in avoidance.My mission was clear – steer far, far away from Mattheo Riddle.

If I saw him sauntering down the hallway, I'd take a sharp turn into the nearest classroom, even if it meant enduring Professor Sprout's droning lecture on Mimbulus Mimbletonia for the fifth time.

Corridors became obstacle courses, as I scanned for his familiar dark hair, taking circuitous routes if I even suspected he might be lurking around a corner.

Tucked away in a secluded corner, surrounded by fragrant lavender and plump pumpkins, I finally pulled out the letter from home.

The familiar parchment felt heavy in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I unfolded the letter and started to read. It was a glowing report on my brother, praising his achievements at the Ministry and lauding his "brilliant mind." A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Of course. My brother, the golden child, the one who could do no wrong.

As I continued reading, the praise seemed to morph into a subtle criticism of me. There was no mention of my academic achievements, no congratulations on my recent Charms O.W.L.s. Just a vague allusion to my "potential" and a gentle reminder to "follow in my brother's footsteps."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the words on the page. Anger bubbled up inside me, hot and fierce. Why were they always so focused on him? Didn't they see me? Didn't they see how hard I tried?

Pushing the frustrations down, I wiped my tears with a vicious swipe.

Just as I was about to crumple up the letter, a familiar voice startled me. "Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"

Mattheo stood before me, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. I whipped my head up, startled. The mocking smile I'd planned faltered slightly.

"Well, hello there, Riddle," I managed, a slight tremor in my voice.

He ignored my shaky greeting, his gaze fixed on my tear-streaked face. He knelt down beside me, his hand reaching out to gently touch mine. Before I could pull away, he brushed a stray tear from my cheek.

"Answer me," he pressed, his voice gentle. "Did someone hurt you?"

I managed a watery laugh."Do you think anyone could actually hurt me?"

"I think they'd regret the day they were born if they tried," he said fiercely, his thumb brushing away another tear.

A choked laugh bubbled up in my throat. He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he finally asked, his voice low and serious.

"Didn't that seem to be what you wanted all this time?" I retorted, my defenses slowly crumbling under his genuine concern.

He shook his head, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "But it never stopped you before, did it?"

"You hate me," I stated, forcing the words out, hoping to maintain some semblance of control.

He met my gaze, a surprising warmth melting away the usual façade. "Of course I do," he said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Then why are you here, caring so much for someone who claims to hate them?" I challenged, my voice trembling slightly.

He leaned in closer, his voice a mere whisper. "Well, I don't hate you. In fact, I kind of missed you these past few days. You really know how to mess with a man's head, L/N."

My breath caught in my throat. Mattheo held my gaze, his hand still gently cupping mine.

"So?" he drawled, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Am I forgiven, or should I do that dramatic monologue you conjured up that night?"

The urge to laugh was overwhelming. His teasing, that infuriatingly familiar smirk – it felt strangely comforting after the emotional rollercoaster of the past few moments. Instead of a witty retort, I leaned in and surprised even myself by kissing him.

He responded instantly, his kiss deepening with a fervor that stole my breath away.

"That would be nice," I mumbled against his lips when we finally broke apart, "but right now, this will do." I reached up and cupped his face, my fingers tracing the sharp angles of his jaw. "This," I whispered, "is more than enough."

He pulled me closer, his hand reaching up to explore the curve of my back. The kiss was different this time, slow and languid

His hand found its way under my skirt, sending a jolt of heat through me. He pulled me closer, setting me on his lap.

"What the…" a voice cut through the charged atmosphere. We both pulled away, startled, to find Blaise Zabini standing there, his jaw hanging open in a comical display of shock.

Heat flooded my cheeks "I'm going to kill him," I whispered to mattheo.

"I'd help you hide the body,"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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