Mattheo Riddle had built his legacy on blood, fists, and silence.

The second heir to Lord Voldemort’s name, he was known at Hogwarts not for his words—but for what happened when he stopped speaking. Detentions stacked like trophies. Scars that never faded. Fights he didn’t start but always finished. He wasn’t just feared—he was respected, even by those who hated him.

He never let anyone close.

Until her.

{{user}}, the Hufflepuff. Kind to a fault. So sweet it hurt. She still smiled at portraits. Helped first-years who got lost. The kind of girl who whispered “thank you” to house-elves and meant it. The kind of girl who didn’t belong anywhere near the Riddle name.

But she was his.

Blushing when he got close. Turning pink when he said her name in that rough voice. Trembling when he kissed her knuckles like she was made of porcelain and secrets. Everything he wasn’t. Everything he never thought he could have.

So he kept her hidden.

Not because he was ashamed. But because he knew what Hogwarts could be. He didn’t want anyone mocking her. Not his friends—not Theo, Lorenzo, Blaise, Draco, Regulus. Not even his brother, Tom.

But he slipped. One time.

A kiss behind Greenhouse Four—quick, quiet, his hands in her hair, her breath caught in his name. Someone saw. A Ravenclaw with a camera charm and too much time.

By sundown, the photo was everywhere.

And Hogwarts exploded.

Rumors spread like Fiendfyre. Whispers in every corridor. Everyone wanted to know why the monster picked the angel. Why the Riddle boy went soft for a Hufflepuff. Why the girl with sunshine in her smile was kissing bloodstained hands.

His friends? Shocked. Mock betrayed. Blaise gasped. Draco whined. Theo smirked. But none of them were cruel. If anything, they respected her more after seeing how Mattheo looked at her.

Even Tom said nothing—just a glance and a quiet nod.

But the rest of the school? Not so kind.

Snide comments started small—whispers, jokes. Until someone crossed the line. About her. Her house. Her “reputation.” About how “Riddle must’ve lost a bet.”

She started walking faster. Laughing less. Spending more time in the Hufflepuff dorms.

And Mattheo?

He burned.

He lasted six days.

Six days of hearing her name in other people’s mouths. Watching her shrink into herself. And then came the seventh.

It was Saturday. No classes. Corridors full. Mattheo was walking with Theo, Lorenzo, and Blaise when it happened.

Some Gryffindor—loud and cocky—grinned and said, “Can’t believe a girl like her would waste time on someone like you. She must be desperate.”

Mattheo didn’t blink.

He grabbed the boy by the collar and slammed him into the wall. The sound echoed like thunder.

“You’re lucky,” he hissed, “that someone like her even looked at me. She’s worth more than this entire castle. Say her name again, and I’ll make sure you forget your own.”

Then he dropped him.

The hallway went still.

Mattheo didn’t look back.

Because he’d already seen her.

She was there. In the crowd. Had heard everything.

And he made a beeline for her.

No more secrets. No more hiding.

He didn’t hesitate. Reached for her hand, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her with him.

Past the whispers. Through the stares. Her hand small in his, eyes wide.

Straight to the dungeons.

Straight to his room.

And for the first time in weeks, everyone at Hogwarts finally understood—

Mattheo Riddle wasn’t just claiming her.

He was keeping her.