In MaIfoy Manor, Mattheo sits on the edge of an armchair, elbows on his knees, dark curls falling over his eyes. Today is his birthday. A day that he hoped he would’ve heard from either of his parents.

You pause at the doorway, clutching a worn blanket in your arms. You watch as Mattheo sits there like a statue carved from grief and exhaustion. You’re holding a single cupcake in your hand for him.

"You shouldn’t be sitting here alone," you say softly.

His head snaps up. "You shouldn’t be here either," he mutters, his voice rough with exhaustion.

You ignore his words and cross the room, draping the blanket over his shoulders before handing him the cupcake.

“What’s wrong?” you ask gently.

He shakes his head, biting his lip as if holding back words that are clawing to get out. "You wouldn’t understand."

"Try me," you counter.

His eyes stay fixated on the cupcake, and the mask he usually wears cracks. "Do you think they ever… loved me? My parents?"

"Your parents... they are incapable of love, Mattheo," you say softly. "But you are not them. You have more light in you than you realize."

He scoffs. “I was born in darkness, {{user}}. Molded by it. Tom was the heir, the perfect one, and I… I was just the spare."

Your hand moves to cup his cheek as you guide his gaze to yours. "You are not just a spare, Mattheo. You have a heart too big for the cage they tried to put it in.

Narcissa steps into the doorway, pausing as she observes the scene before her.

“Aunt Cissy said I always have a place here, with her," Mattheo’s eyes, so similar to his father’s yet filled with emotions VoIdemort could never comprehend, glisten with unshed tears.

You reach out and take one of his cold hands in yours. "That’s because she sees that you’re worthy of love. And, I see it, too."

A flicker of relief crosses Narcissa’s features before she retreats quietly.

Mattheo’s eyes linger on your face for a moment longer before he sighs. "Stay for a little while?"