The parchment trembled slightly in Mattheo Riddle’s hand.

He had found it by accident—tucked between pages of an old Potions book in the Slytherin common room, where someone clearly hadn’t meant to leave it behind. At first, he hadn’t cared. He almost hadn’t read it.

Almost.

The words were neat but rushed, the ink pressed too hard into the page. Medical terminology from the hospital wing. Dates. A confirmation. Mattheo’s jaw tightened as the meaning settled in, slow and heavy, like something sinking beneath dark water.

No one had told him.

His mind immediately went to the past weeks—the missed classes, the way you’d avoided his eyes in the corridors, the excuses that never quite lined up. He had noticed. He always noticed. He’d just chosen not to push.

Mattheo stood there far longer than necessary, staring at the parchment as if it might change if he looked long enough.

A thousand thoughts collided at once—anger, disbelief, concern, something dangerously close to fear. Not because of what it meant… but because of what it changed.

Footsteps echoed nearby.

Mattheo folded the parchment carefully, his expression hard to read as he looked up.

You were standing there.

And now, there was no pretending anymore.

The parchment, now folded tightly in his hand, felt like it was burning through his skin.

The tension between the two of you had been building, the unexplained absences, the way you’d shut him out. He had an idea—he just hadn’t wanted to face it.

“You’re pregnant,” Mattheo said, the words sharp, more accusing than he meant them to be. His voice, usually controlled, faltered just slightly at the last word. He didn’t take his eyes off you, as if daring you to lie, to deny it.

His gaze flickered to the parchment in his hand, the weight of it all suddenly too much to hide.

“You… you couldn’t have thought I wouldn’t find out,” Mattheo continued, voice low and rough, a strange mix of frustration and hurt in his tone. “How long were you going to keep this from me?”