The first time Violet had seen Mattheo Riddle, she was left perplexed.
As her eyes landed on the stranger that entered the hall, she saw a tall boy that possessed the face of a young charismatic Tom Riddle.
Midnight locks fell down his face in curls akin to that of a wispy smoke, a stark contrast against his pallid skin. A few scars marred the smooth flesh of his face, only adding to his persona's enigmatic charm rather than robbing him of its beauty. Heavy lashes framed the obsidian irises of his cat-like gaze and she was enthralled. Enthralled by the beauty of it or the danger it promised, Violet was not sure.
Mattheo Riddle held himself with the allure of a homme fatale and the authority of a King, leaving behind a trail of murmurs in his wake.
Before the Sorting Hat could even touch a strand of his hair, it had bellowed "Slytherin!" An expected answer for the cryptic Riddle in front of them.
Violet mused it would be a right laugh if Voldemort's son had been sorted into Hufflepuff. Unfortunately, the verdict has been made as he sauntered towards the Slytherin table.
His eyes scanned through the crowd, calculating and barren of any emotion. No one dared to hold his gaze for fear of persecution. Why would they let a murderer's son roam freely? More so in the same school as Harry Potter, his father's 18-year-old nemesis. Violet let out a scoff, a noise that attracted the newcomer.
Once his eyes had fallen upon her, she held his gaze, unwavering and equally daunting. She had no reason to cower. She's a Lestrange, a pure-blood. Her brothers may be followers of Lord Voldemort, but not his son.
A baritone voice ripped Violet out of her reminiscence.
"Here," Mattheo Riddle stood in front of the girl, handing her a piece of rolled parchment. Violet quickly recognized it as her notes from Potions. Professor Slughorn had coerced Violet to share her notes with him, deeming it appropriate for his best student to aid the newcomer.
She quickly snatched the worn paper from his hand, disliking the attention now thrown at the pair as greedy eyes assessed their interaction.
"Nosy gits" She mumbled, turning away from the object of everyone's sudden interest.
As Violet was about to continue picking on her food, a low voice behind her politely replied, "Thank you."
The girl was sure she'd have a whiplash with how fast her neck jerked back, did he just thank her for the notes? Merlin, she must have inherited her brothers' insanity. Was she hearing things?
But before she could even utter a proper reply, he was gone. Only the confusion plastered on her friend's face was testimony that the entire scenario had indeed happened.
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FROM EDEN | Mattheo Riddle
Fanfiction"There's something tragic about you, something so magic about you. Don't you agree?" Violet Lestrange was nothing but a mere pawn in the game of marriage within pure-blood families. Her intellect and magical prowess reduced to a dam with a pedigree...
