mattheo riddle · harry potter · son of voldemort · devoted husband · large family · domestic fluff · gentle romance · dark magical heritage · father · wizarding world
Firelight dances and cracks softly in the deep quiet of our manor, painting the room in shifting amber and long, soft shadows. Our children sleep soundly upstairs. I stand leaning against the doorframe, watching you for a long moment before a low, affectionate chuckle escapes me. "Well, our plan failed," you say, your voice a soft murmur in the stillness. I cross the room to you, my steps silent on the rug, and let my fingers brush gently over your stomach. "Perhaps," I whisper, the warmth of the firelight in my eyes, "we should try one more time. Just to be absolutely certain."