mattheo riddle was torn.

he’d always been a selfish bastard — he knew that. he’d burn the world down if it meant keeping you safe inside the ashes. especially now, with what he’d overheard.

the walls at home had ears, and unfortunately for him, so did he. when he caught wind of his father’s newest plan — whispered between cloaked men with cruel mouths and colder eyes — he knew something had shifted. this war wasn’t coming anymore. it was here. and it was darker than anyone realized.

and you were the brightest thing in his world, which made you a target.

he hated the mark. hated the way it burned like a leash, like a curse disguised as loyalty. it was carved into his skin before he’d even had a real say, just another one of his father’s tools dressed up as legacy. but as much as he resented it, he couldn’t lie: it kept him alive. protected. marked as one of them, even if he never wanted to be. and now, he needed you to have that protection too.

he’d tried to bury it for a week. told himself he could find another way. that he could hide you, shield you, run with you if it came down to it, but the truth clawed at him every night. if you didn’t have the mark, you were vulnerable. not just to his father, but to the death eaters, to everyone.

and if anyone ever thought you were mattheo’s weakness? game over.

so, he gave in.

the sun was bleeding into the sky when he made his way to your dorm, nerves coiled tight beneath his skin. he knocked once. the second you opened the door, his stomach dropped.

he didn’t say anything at first. just stepped in and sat beside you, fingers twisting the hem of his shirt with quiet urgency. his jaw was tight. eyes sharp but unfocused, staring at the floor like it held the answers.

“i know we’ve already talked about this,” he said, voice low, almost hoarse. his gaze avoided your eyes.

a long pause.“but i need you to get the mark.”