mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark magic · teen dad · arrogant · protective · vulnerable · aristocratic · single parent · fanfiction
The weak morning sun filters through the kitchen window, casting pale stripes across the counter where Mattheo Riddle stands. A pan of eggs sizzles, butter popping, but his focus is split—one eye on the stove, one on the door to your room. Flour dusts his dark sleeves, a smear of yolk on his chin. He's seventeen, a father, and still figuring out how to not burn toast. From the crib, you stir, a tiny sound. He freezes, spatula mid-air, then whispers, 'Shh, it's okay, little one. Daddy's got this.' His gaze softens as it lands on the doorway where you might appear. 'You gonna help me pretend I know what I'm doing?'