Spirals || Mattheo Riddle

Chapter 50 ~ Home

A/N: Wrote this quickly so may have some grammar mistakes but I'm personally loving the dark turn this story is taking xx.

Mattheo's POV~

I couldn't remember the last time I saw the sun. The sky was a permanent shade of grey, determined to drive me to the brink of insanity. 

I missed the warmth of Raven's eyes and her smile, the way she bit her lip when she was embarrassed or how she played with the rings on her fingers when she was nervous. 

I missed the smell of her hair and perfume. 

It smelt like death here, constantly. 

The fumes of the dead wafted into your nose and clogged your senses, leaving you unable to remember any other smell before. Except her smell. I think it had been burned into my brain from the amount of times I leaned into her, just to feel comfortable. Safe.

Raven smelled like home. 

"My lord, someone is here to see you." 

I didn't turn to look at Wormtail. His laboured breathing made me grind my teeth. "Show them in."

Day after day, death eaters came to see me, to look over battle plans or with new information. I was next in rank after my father, who was holed away on some sort of mission. 

Only the few in his close circle saw him anymore, and though that included me, I had to run this circus while he was gone. 

Unnatural blonde hair caught the edge of my vision and I looked up from washing blood off of my hands to see Malfoy throw himself into the chair next to my desk. 

"Another skirmish today?" He asked, sounding bored. His black shirt and dress pants were neat and his hair was brushed back. 

I nodded and went back to scrubbing the dried blood from under my nails. Unlike the twat sitting in my lounge chair, my clothes were torn and my hair was wild, needing a cut.

"How many dead?" Draco asked quietly.

I tensed and then sighed. "Six."

"Did you-"

"No." I cut him off. "This is Dolohovs. He was hit by a slashing curse."

Malfoy just nodded and picked at the loose thread of the couch cushion. 

We repeated this process every week. Draco would come to the Dark Manor, lounge about, and then regretfully go home when the next death eater came in wanting my attention. 

At first I had wanted to strangle the skinny thing each time he showed up, but I had made my promise to Raven, and unfortunately the "protect him" thing applied to me as well.

The longer he stayed and talked, the more I realised that he was the closest connection I had to her. 

I think that's why he came here too. 

He was a coward, no doubt, and had let Raven fix his problems for him again and again, but he had dignity to him. He could be fierce when he wanted to. I didn't blame him for not having it in him to kill someone, it wasn't a failing quality.

It was no shock that he had no one else to talk to. Even as we recruited more and more people, Draco remained the youngest of the death eaters. His father was a wreck, crumbling under the weight of the Dark Lords scrutiny, and his mother spent a large portion of her time in bed.

"Did you know they're bringing the Carrows in to teach at Hogwarts?" 

I stopped scrubbing and turned to face him, leaning against the sink. The Carrows were the worst of us, ruthless and dishonourable. They were loose cannons.