Irreconcilable~Mattheo Riddle

Year 5: Mattheo's POV (part 1)

song: Wicked Game-Chris Isaak

I'm sitting in my room listening to some old muggle music called Wicked Game, on some old muggle listening device, by some old muggle man called Chris Isaak.

Things have been great this side actually, although my mood would indicate otherwise. I should be ecstatic, elated, exuberant even. Draco was correct, in some way, I had delivered Y/N, or so it looks, so the failure of her non-death does not entirely lie with me.

So, I have thus proven my loyalty to the Death Eaters and am on track to being one next year. Currently, some pure-blooded (which is basically incestuous if you think about it) get together is being hosted by the Malfoys, and a few are quite happy that Mr. Potter could shortly be expelled.

Everything is great.

In a decided act of rebellion, I've taken up smoking, a rather nasty habit, but a wonderful way of forgetting what a shitty family I have. Draco can't handle the stuff; he coughed as if he was a Victorian child on his death bed after he tried it. 

I light one up and as soon as I place it in my mouth it is removed, "You're a real idiot, you know that?" Draco removes the muggle listening device from my head.

"Thanks for the reminder, now what do you want," I lie back on my bed and stare at the tiresome black ceiling.

"I got bored, my mother brought out baby photos, so I am trying to spare myself the embarrassment." he rests his head in his hands.

"Have you heard from Y/N?" he asks, changing the subject.

I have been writing to her this whole holiday, but ever since a week ago, she has stopped responding. I know I got her address right, unless she has moved from the Dursley's I do not know what to do.

For the most part, letters have been friendly and somewhat formal from her side. I think I may have caused it, after my first letter I accidently signed off, "Love Mattheo."

In return I got "Warmest Regards". I shouldn't be upset, she has a boyfriend, it's all the school could talk about after Cedric's funeral.

"No," I answer shortly.

"Well, she is with Fred, so you stay away from her," he says in a rather fatherly tone.

"She can have Fred, I don't care," I lie, because I do care, and I care far too much. I let out an exasperated sigh.

Ever since Draco and Theodore protected me from me that night, I realized that even though they are complete knobs, they did prove their loyalty to me, so I am slightly relieved that I can trust them slightly. 

Although I wish they could stop with the whole blood supremacy bullshit. Draco is careful to not use slurs in my presence, but I hear him speak to others and it takes everything in me to not knock his teeth out.

The door bursts open.

"Who wants to see Draco's baby photos?" asks Theodore, holding up two polaroids of a bare-bottomed baby.

I immediately jump up to see and Draco is clamoring to get the photos out of Theodore's hands.

"GIVE IT BACK! "Draco tries to yank it back from Theodore, but he glides them over to me instead.

"Draco: aged 7 months, with the cutest tushy-" I try to read but end up laughing instead, Theodore, falls down onto Draco's bed, trying to catch his breath from the laughter.

Draco attempts once more to try and I quickly react, "Just give them back and I'll give you your muggle smoke paper thing,"

I deliberate for a second, and nod, he throws an entire pack to me, and as I open it, I throw one to Theodore.

We quickly light in and sit in silence for a few moments. The smoky air filling up the room. The only sounds the inhalation and exhalation of a few nicotine filled cigarettes. I see how Draco is holding in the urge to gag.

This is calm, this is nice. But things never stay this way, at least not for me.

I learned a long time ago that happiness is not something the universe intended for me. It was preordained for me to go through toil and despair. I was born out of obsession and the universe punishes me for it. What am I worth but a few decades of the stagnating paralysis of emotions.

I sigh and look around, realizing that the other two must have departed at some point. I throw out my now useless and blunt smoke.

Solitude.

"Why aren't you out with us, sweetheart?" I hear my mother's shrill voice.

I find it strange how no one noticed she's out of Azkaban. It was a whole debacle in my childhood. They casted imperius on some stupid muggle and with the help of the Dementor guards.

So, to everyone's knowledge she's there, and I can't help but laugh at the disappointment of a government we have.

"I wasn't really in the mood for muggle torture mother," I try to sound too sarcastic, knowing it might cause some argument.

"Thats our Friday night plans sweetheart, today we are just," she curls her hair with her wand, "discussing targets." she giggles at her own psychopathy.

"My mistake, in that case," she looks up hopefully, "I still won't be joining you," I watch as her face brightens with color.

"You are absolutely horrid, and I couldn't be prouder," she stares at me a moment longer, before departing.

I hate her, I hate this, and I hate being here.

What family casually talks about harming innocents?

I hate admitting that I feel no guilt for murdering that Death Eater, he was a cruel and sadistic man. 

But I could never excuse using Crucio on someone. Death is a kindness, but a slow painful losing of the mind is despicable.

That is unforgiveable.