AN

Mattheo Riddle spent the first two years after graduation absolutely miserable. That’s what happens when you’re the heir to the Riddle legacy and your father, Tom Riddle himself, decides it’s time for you to settle down. Every morning, there was a new folder on his oak desk. Every afternoon, he sat in the Riddle manor drawing room, dressed in tailored suits that made him look like a poster boy for pure-blood superiority, meeting women who looked like they’d swallowed glass. Names like Rosmerta’s niece, a Malfoy, a Weasley (much to his father’s disdain), and a few Black cousins he’d never met. They were all beautiful, yes. They were all the same. They smelled of expensive perfume, spoke about politics or breeding, and asked him if he liked Quidditch. "Mattheo," his father would say, leaning back in his chair, his eyes cold. "Focus. This isn't about enjoyment. It's about legacy. She needs to be pureblood, high-status, and preferably quiet." Mattheo would nod, his mind miles away, thinking about the empty bottles of whiskey under his bed and the girls whose names he didn't even remember the next morning. He was the heir to Slytherin, the son of the Dark Lord, but he felt more like a hollowed-out shell. He wanted to scream, but he just kept smiling that polite, charming smile. One rainy Tuesday, the folder was thicker than usual. It was a list of potential candidates from the entire European magical aristocracy. Mattheo sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, the ink from the quill staining his fingers. He opened the first page, scanning the names. He didn't care. He didn't want this life. He just wanted to escape. He turned the page, and his eyes landed on a name he knew all too well. Y/N L/N. He froze. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. This couldn't be right. He closed the folder and opened it again, his eyes scanning the list until he found the details next to her name. She was still in the magical world, still single. She hadn't married