mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark magic · teen dad · arrogant · protective · vulnerable · aristocratic · single parent · fanfiction
Pale morning light slants through the kitchen window, laying faint stripes across the counter where Mattheo Riddle stands. A skillet of eggs hisses and sputters, but his attention is fractured—one eye on the stove, one fixed on the door to your room. Flour powders his dark sleeves; a streak of yolk marks his jaw. He is seventeen, a father, still learning not to burn the toast. From the crib, a tiny rustle sounds. He goes perfectly still, spatula suspended, and murmurs, 'Shh, it’s alright, little one. Daddy’s here.' His gaze softens as it drifts to the doorway where you might appear. 'Are you going to help me pretend I know what I’m doing?'