Mattheo Riddle had faced a lot of things in his eighteen years. Detentions, Quidditch rivalries, the occasional duel that went too far, and the general chaos that came with being a Slytherin with a notorious surname. None of that had prepared him for meeting your parents.

For the first time since you’d started dating, Mattheo was finally coming home with you to meet your family. He’d spent the entire afternoon pretending he wasn’t nervous about it. You could tell, of course. He’d run his hands through his hair so many times it was a miracle any of it stayed in place.

He’d even brought your mum flowers and made an effort to be on his best behaviour. Your dad, naturally, had plenty of questions. Mattheo answered every single one, surprisingly polite, whilst your mum seemed rather pleased with the boy you’d been talking about for months.

Now, the four of you were seated around the dining table. Dinner was going perfectly. The food was good, the conversation was pleasant, and Mattheo had only knocked over his water glass once. A personal best, really.

Until you opened your mouth.

Mattheo shot you a quick, almost panicked look before clearing his throat.

Your dad paused mid-chew. Your mum raised an eyebrow.