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sadnymi · 9 months ago

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「 ✦ Guilty as sin ✦ 」

[Theodore Nott × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary:(Request) Theo x f!reader where she is a huuuuuge flirt. Flirts with the whole slytherin gang, the golden trio, literally everyone EXCEPT Theo and it doesn’t bother him until his friends start teasing him about it and then it drives him CRAZY. So he tracks her down and she’s all blushy like “idk how to flirt with someone I actually like??” And then smut ensues

Warning: smut

Words:3.5k

Laughter echoed through the empty corridor – a welcome reprieve from the usual bustle of Hogwarts life. We were on a glorious post-lunch break, a rare moment where none of us had classes.

Draco, ever the stoic one, smirked from the corner, a hint of amusement flickering in his grey eyes. Blaise, reclining against the wall along with mattheo and Enzo .

“So, what’s got you all so chipper today?” I asked, leaning against the wall opposite them, my eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh, just the usual,” Mattheo replied with a grin, his eyes scanning me up and down. “Though your presence certainly brightens things up.”

I laughed, a playful glint in my eye. “Is that so, Mattheo? I’m flattered.”

“Flattered, are you?” Enzo chimed in, his smile broadening. “Just wait till you hear what Draco’s been saying about you.”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile playing at his lips. “Don’t drag me into this, Enzo.”

I arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? And what exactly has Draco been saying?”

Draco finally looked directly at me, his smirk deepening. “Nothing that wouldn’t make you blush, I’m sure.”

Suddenly, the air shimmered and Theo materialized beside me, a frown etched on his handsome face. My laughter died in my throat, replaced by a nervous flutter in my stomach.

Don't get me wrong, Theo was so attractive. Tall, dark, and mysterious, he exuded an aura that drew you in like a moth to a flame. That’s why I always act that awkward whenever he show up.

"Hey, Y/L/N," Theo greeted me, his voice a low rumble. "Having fun?"

But before I could respond, a mischievous glint sparked in Blaise's eyes. "Having fun? She's practically rolling on the floor here! Just look at her," he nudged me with his elbow, "completely smitten with my hilarious story."

My cheeks burned. "Oh, shut up, Zabini," I swatted him playfully. "It was Enzo's joke that was funny, not yours."

Enzo chuckled. "Thanks, Y/N."

We all fell into a comfortable banter again, the conversation flowing like a well-worn path. But with every witty remark aimed at me, every playful touch from Blaise or Enzo, I found myself subtly shifting away from Theo. It wasn't intentional, not really. Maybe a subconscious defense mechanism, a way to keep myself safe from the intensity I sensed in him.

Finally, unable to handle the mounting tension any longer, I blurted, "Oh, well, this has been lovely, but I actually have to…" My voice trailed off, searching for a believable excuse.

"Potions homework?" Blaise offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah, yes," I stammered, "Look at the time! I completely forgot, I have to—"

"Go?" Mattheo finished my sentence with a playful grin, his eyes flickering between me and Theo. "That seems to be your usual line whenever Nott graces us with his presence."

A collective laugh went up from the others, but a blush crept up my cheeks. Was it that obvious?

"See, Theo? That's just how Y/N is. Always gotta disappear when you show up."

Behind me, I could hear the eruption of laughter. Draco's voice rang out, “See ? Always leaving when you appear Nott, gets the charm offensive."

I winced, a mixture of guilt washing over me, I grabbed my bag and walked away.

As I walked to the class the next day my stomach lurched, I scanned the room. Every single seat was taken except for one – the one directly next to Theo. A wave of annoyance washed over me. Why did I have to be the one stuck beside him after yesterday's awkward retreat?

With a resigned sigh, I marched towards the empty chair, determined to keep our interaction to a minimum. Just as I sat down, the classroom door slammed open, and Professor Snape strode in with his usual scowl.

"Settle down!" his baritone voice boomed. "Since we're already behind, we'll be starting immediately. Take out your textbooks and quills, we're brewing Veritaserum today."

My shoulders slumped. Of course, today would be the day Snape insisted on absolute honesty. Great.

I grabbed my textbook with a muttered curse, desperately trying to ignore the heat radiating from beside me. Theo. He was practically close enough to see the worried frown etched on my forehead.

"Rough day, Y/N?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine despite myself.

I kept my eyes glued to my textbook, pretending to be engrossed in the complicated brewing instructions. "Just fine," I mumbled, my voice a touch too high-pitched.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Do I make you nervous, Y/N?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

My cheeks burned. Did he have to be so perceptive? "No," I lied unconvincingly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"Then why the avoidance act?" he pressed.

My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I couldn't take it anymore. Taking a deep breath, I finally looked at him, ready to fire back with a witty retort.

But as our eyes met, something unexpected happened. All the bravado I had practiced in my head evaporated. His gaze held a depth I hadn't noticed before, a hint of something… more.

The stern voice of Professor Snape cut through the sudden tension. "Miss Y/N, Mr. Nott! Pay attention or face detention."

Flustered, I tore my gaze away from Theo.

The moment Professor Snape dismissed the class, I bolted. My cheeks still burned from Theo's teasing, his words replaying in my head like a broken record. "Do I make you nervous?" Ugh, the audacity!

Heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, I weaved through the throng of students, desperate to escape the classroom and the lingering scent of Theo's cologne.

As I rounded a corner, I slammed right into someone, the impact knocking the breath out of me. I stumbled back, muttering an apology.

"Easy there, love. Running from someone?"

My cheeks burned like someone had set them on fire with a dragon's breath. "No, no, of course not," I stammered, my voice tripping over itself. "Just... eager to get to my next class."

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his grey eyes. "Really? Because you look like you just escaped a dragon attack in those robes."

"I-I really have to go," I mumbled again, yanking my arm free from Matteo's grasp.

Before he could say another word, I bolted. I sprinted down the hallway, robes billowing behind me, desperate to put as much distance as possible between me, Theo.

The thoughts I harbored about Theo, well, they were borderline scandalous – even for the often-unconventional wizarding world. Wet dreams were a daily torment, a vivid tapestry woven with stolen glances and the memory of his low chuckle. Even the most mundane tasks became infused with Theo. Daydreams, unwelcome and potent, hijacked my mind, filling it with images of his strong arms wrapped around me, the feel of his warm skin against mine, and those lips... oh Merlin, his lips. The very thought of them sent a jolt through me, leaving me breathless and yearning.

It was a full-blown obsession. Every interaction, every stolen glance, was a spark that ignited a wildfire within me. I envisioned stolen touches, whispered secrets, a clandestine world where it was just us. These "visions," as I'd begun calling them, were both exhilarating and terrifying. Had I lost my mind?

Looking at him was like staring into the sun – an act both beautiful and blinding. I craved his attention, yet recoiled from it in equal measure, afraid of what it might reveal �� both about him and the depth of my own desires.

The moment I reached the solitude of my dorm room, I threw myself onto my bed, burying my face in the soft pillow. It was just me and the storm raging within. Seeking a semblance of control, I reached for my most trusted companion – my sketchbook. Flipping to a blank page, I did what had become a nightly ritual: I drew Theo.

His face materialized on the page with practiced ease – the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his eyebrows quirked slightly when he was amused, the intensity of his gaze that seemed to pierce right through me. Each stroke was infused with a longing so deep it ached. As I added the final details, a desperate thought crossed my mind – what if, somehow, magically, drawing him like this would bring him closer? A ridiculous notion, even for a witch like me. But a girl can dream, right?

The drawing complete, I flipped back through the pages, revisiting the countless iterations of Theo that filled my sketchbook. Each one a silent testament to my growing obsession. A pang of guilt stabbed at me as I traced the outline of his lips in one particular sketch. Here I was, feeling like I'd committed a sin, when in reality, our interactions hadn't even reached the stage of a stolen touch.

A frustrated groan escaped my lips. This was madness. Yet, as I drifted off to sleep that night, the sketchbook remained tucked under my pillow, a silent guardian of my unrequited affection.

The next day, the weight of my secret world pressed down on me like a lead blanket.

My usual bubbly demeanor was replaced by a forced smile and a dull ache in my chest. The boys exchanged worried glances, their questions a constant reminder of the truth I couldn't share.

Mumbling an unconvincing excuse about feeling unwell, I escaped the classroom the moment the bell rang, desperate for some fresh air and a moment of solitude.

Once I was finally away from everyone I grabbed my bag, then it happened, panic clawed at my throat as I realized my sketchbook was missing.

I scoured my bag again, desperately searching every compartment, but it was nowhere to be found. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I carried that sketchbook everywhere, afraid of someone stumbling upon my secret world.

Fear morphed into a cold dread as I retraced my steps, hoping it had simply fallen out of my bag somewhere.

The thought of someone, anyone, seeing my drawings, especially Theo… the very notion sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through me.

I retraced my steps, combing through the classroom once more, a desperate hope clinging to the edges of my despair. But it was futile. The sketchbook was nowhere to be found. My mind raced, picturing prying eyes and whispered secrets. This was a disaster.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the rising tide of panic. "Searching for something, Y/L/N?"

I spun around so fast I nearly toppled over, my eyes widening as they landed on Theo. A self-assured smirk played on his lips, and in his hand, he dangled my precious sketchbook.

"Theo!" I gasped, the sound strangled and desperate. My cheeks burned with a mixture of mortification and a strange, exhilarating thrill.

Instead of listening to my frantic plea, he held the sketchbook just out of reach, the amusement in his eyes deepening. "Such beautiful secrets you keep hidden, Love."

The blood drained from my face. "Give it back to me, Theodore," I demanded, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands.

He chuckled, a low, beautiful sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Not so fast, love. Perhaps there's something in here that warrants a little… negotiation."

Frustration bubbled up inside me. I lunged for the sketchbook, my fingers brushing against his hand. But he easily outmatched me, holding it high above my head. The height difference was agonizing.

"Give it back!" I hissed, my voice laced with desperation.

A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't decipher. Then, before I could react, his other hand shot out, landing firmly on my waist.

A gasp escaped my lips as a jolt of electricity shot through me at his touch. He used the momentum to pull me closer, turning us around so that my back slammed against the cool surface of the empty classroom door my eyes widened when he locked it. My breath hitched in my throat as his warm body pressed against mine.

His face was inches from mine, his breath tickling my ear. "Now," he murmured, his voice a husky rumble that sent a delicious shiver down my spine, "Care to explain what is it about?”

"No "I say "Just give it back!"

Instead of replying, he pulled away, placing the sketchbook on a nearby table with a soft thud. I made a move to grab it, but he was faster. With a single, smooth motion, he used one hand to capture both of mine, pinning them above my head against the cold, unforgiving surface of the door.

His touch sent a jolt through me, a current that both terrified and excited me. His gaze was intense, boring into mine, and suddenly his earlier amusement was replaced by something else entirely.

"So," he said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.

"you just decided to ignore my entire existence? The social butterfly with all her friends, suddenly giving me the cold shoulder or vanishing into thin air whenever I'm around. Then I find out you've been drawing me… like a hundred times? Which by the way I'm not complaining about but— ," he added, "but seriously, Y/N, what have I done that you can't bear to stay in the same room with me for a minute?"

His words hit me like a physical blow. Shame burned through me, hot and fierce. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely a choked sob, my eyes desperately seeking the floor.

"Look at me, love," he commanded, a gentle firmness in his voice.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his. His face was unreadable, a mixture of concern and something else – something that made my heart skip a beat.

"Good girl," he murmured, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Now, say it. What have I done to make you hate me that much?"

"It's the opposite," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out before I could stop them, fueled by a desperate need for him to understand. "I like you, Theo. A lot. Those feelings… they're so intense, so confusing, and I just don't know how to act around you. I see you and I freak out. I can't breathe, my heart races and then those unholy thoes…" My voice cracked, and tears welled up in my eyes.

He leaned closer, his hand brushing a stray tear from my cheek. "Breathe, my love," he whispered, his voice gentle, his touch sending sparks dancing across my skin. "Breathe."

I did, taking a shaky breath, closing my eyes as his face came closer. His touch was everywhere – on my cheek, my neck, his warm breath against my lips. "Are you mad?" I whispered, barely audible.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Quite the opposite," he murmured, his lips brushing mine with a feather-light touch. Then, in one swift movement, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both electrifying and grounding.

His hands gripped my hips, lifting me off the floor effortlessly. I gasped as I looked into his eyes, seeing the raw desire burning within them. "You smell so good," he murmured, his lips finding my neck. His stubble tickled my sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"You know those thoughts you talked about," he continued, placing soft kisses along my jawline. "I have similar thoughts too."

I moaned as he sucked on my earlobe, my head falling back to give him more access. His lips moved down to my neck, his tongue tracing a path along my collarbone.

His hands tightened on my hips, and I could feel his erection pressing against me. I couldn't help but grind against him, feeling his length rub against my clit through our clothes.

"I want to leave marks on your skin, so everyone knows you're mine," Theo growled, his lips moving down to my neck. His tongue traced a path along my collarbone, and I shivered with delight.

"Yours?" I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, baby. Mine. And those fuckers need to know this," he said, I couldn't help but smile. I knew they had been teasing him for how I had been ignoring him.

His lips traced a path along my collarbone, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I shivered with delight as his hand gripped my hair, pulling me to him he looked at my eyes for a second then kissed me. His lips were soft and eager, and I couldn't help but respond.

He turned me around his head on my shoulder "Tell me your deepest fantasy. I'll make it a reality for you,"

His hands went inside my skirt, and I felt his fingers on my thighs. "Can I touch you?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. I nodded, my breath hitching in my throat.

“ oh Merlin “ I say my whole body shaking his finger rubbing circles on my clit fast then slow making me losing my mind

“ not Merlin baby me say my name, do i make you feel good ? “ he say in my ear

“ yes Theo oh yes you do “ I say my body still shaking .

"Do you want me to be rough with you, or gentle?" He asked, his finger sliding inside me. I gasped, holding onto his arms for support.

"No one has touched you like this before, baby?" He asked. I shook my head, unable to trust myself to respond without screaming.

"Good, and no one else will," He said, his fingers moving inside me. I felt myself getting closer to the edge, my whole body tensing up.

"I love how you arch your back when I do this. You're so responsive," He said, his fingers moving faster inside me. I screamed, my whole body shaking with pleasure.

He put his hand over my mouth, muffling my cries "Shhh” He said, his voice soothing.

I felt it happening. My whole body shook, and if not for his strong arm around me, I would have fallen. I screamed with his hand still on my mouth. I came for the first time in my life, and oh lord, it felt like heaven.

"You did so good for me, baby. So good."

Put his fingers in his mouth, savoring my taste. "I love the way you taste, the way you smell. You're like a drug to me,".

He picked me up, setting me on the desk. pushed the books and papers aside, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he pulled me to the edge of the desk, his hands on my thighs.

"Is this like your fantasies?".

"No," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "It’s much better."

His lips were on my inner thighs in an instant, his tongue tracing a path up to my panties. He pulled them down, his fingers grazing my skin. My breath came in short gasps.

"Do you want me to use my fingers or my tongue? Or maybe both?"

His tongue found my clit, and I moaned as he licked and sucked, his fingers exploring my wet folds. I grabbed onto the edge of the desk, my legs shaking.

Theo pulled back, his eyes meeting mine. He reached for a pen on the desk, pulling it towards him. wrote "mine" on my inner thigh, his eyes locked on mine.

His fingers slid back inside me. I moaned again, my hips bucking against his hand.

His tongue found my clit once again , and I moaned louder this time. He sucked and licked, his fingers moving inside me in a steady rhythm. I could feel my orgasm building for the second time.

"Oh, Theo," I moaned, my hips bucking against his hand.

He moved his fingers faster, his tongue lashing against my clit. I cried out as my orgasm crashed over me again.

He pulled away, making his way up to kiss me. I was shaking in his arms, but he wrapped them around me, making me feel safe and comfortable.

As I trembled in his arms, He held me close, his embrace warm and comforting. He gently brushed my hair away from my face, kissing my forehead tenderly.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice full of admiration and love.

I rested my head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The intensity of the moment began to fade, replaced by a soft, soothing calm. Theo's hands traced gentle circles on my back, his touch reassuring and tender.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, concern evident in his eyes.

I nodded, feeling a smile tug at my lips. "I'm more than okay. Thank you."

He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Theo, I need to tell you something,” I said, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

He looked at me with those deep, caring eyes, waiting patiently.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I don’t mean to scare you with it now, but I’ve been holding it to myself for too long and I wanted you to know.”

A smile spread across his face, and he leaned in to kiss me softly, his lips curing my words. “You don’t have to anymore,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to my fears. He looked into my eyes, his expression sincere. “I love you, and I will prove it to you every single day.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, not of sadness, but of overwhelming relief and happiness. “Promise you won’t hurt me?” I asked, my voice small and vulnerable.

“Never, baby,” he said, pulling me closer. “I promise. I will never hurt you. I’ll always be here for you.”

I buried my face in his chest, letting his warmth and words envelop me, my gaze wandered to the ink on my thigh. The word "mine" stood out boldly, a possessive claim that made me giggle despite the seriousness of everything that had just happened.

Theo noticed and raised an eyebrow. "What’s so funny?" he asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

I pointed to the makeshift tattoo. “This. ‘Mine.’ You really went all out, didn’t you?”

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You bet I did. I had to make sure those fuckers know you’re off limits from now on.”

I laughed, “Oh, I’m sure they’ll get the message loud and clear.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

#slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x you #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodorenottsmut #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott masterlist #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine #theo nott #theo nott smut

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moonpascaltoo · 7 months ago

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theodore nott

MASTERLIST • SLYTHERIN BOYS • 07/24/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

theodore nott two

𑣲 the way i loved you I @angelfic

in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

𑣲 lessons in love I @obsessedwithceleste

Ft. Enzo being bad at potions, the Ravenclaw common room door, and more than one accidental love confession.

𑣲 all’s fair in love and quidditch I @/obsessedwithceleste

All’s fair in love and quidditch. At least until Matteo’s poorly aimed bludger knocks you off of your broom.

𑣲 theodore nott and the fortress of trust issues I @/obsessedwithceleste

Theodore Nott had never been able to cast a patronus. In third year, when dementors were swarming the castle, of course he tried, but was never able to manage more than a whisp of soft silver. Come seventh year, he was painfully unsurprised when his efforts were once again lack luster. Turns out, with the right tutor, casting the formidable charm might not be as impossible as he thought.

𑣲 til it’s gone I @/obsessedwithceleste

It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone.

𑣲 mother brother knows best I @/obsessedwithceleste

In which Theodore is no match for the sheer determination of a twelve year old fueled by sugar, pumpkin juice, and spite.

𑣲 fighting fate I @/obsessedwithceleste

soulmate!au in which everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Bold of fate to assume it can tell you what to do.

𑣲 jealously I @ahqkas

an unexpected situation catches you off guard in the heart of florence and your boyfriend reveals a side of him you’ve never seen before

𑣲 practice makes it better I @/ahqkas

struggling with the local slang, you feel out of place until you meet theodore nott, the silent slytherin

𑣲 dealer I @/ahqkas

smoking had never interested you before but when the local dealer catches your eye, you might get the experience of a professional

𑣲 the odds of affection I deactivated account

where theodore is grumpy and quiet and when the slytherin’s take note of how he always gives reader forehead kisses, they’re rather shocked.

𑣲 fools I @luv4freddie

in which the only Hufflepuff friend in the group of slytherins develops a crush on Theodore Nott— something only fools do.

𑣲 shut up kiss me I @theostrophywife

𑣲 written in the stars I @/theostrophywife

𑣲 kiss with a fist I @/theostrophywife

𑣲 lovebites and potions I @caramelcal

𑣲 not even the addressee I @kaciebello

When Theodore's name gets misspelled he's not happy about it.

𑣲 the sirens task I @frost-queen

𑣲 the letter I @spectorgram

you get a letter from a secret admirer who wants to confess. your best friend is none too pleased.

𑣲 eyes wide open I @/spectorgram

you discover that there is so much more to theodore nott than you thought.

𑣲 flustered and blushing I @amourane

in which you're a flustered mess around theo nott and he absolutely adores it.

𑣲 why can’t we love freely I @/amourane

you're tired of being a secret and it was time to let theo know.

𑣲 so this is love I @/amourane

there's a weird feeling that erupts in theo's chest whenever he looks at you and for the first time in his life his mind goes silent.

𑣲 down the rabbit hole I @/amourane

in which it's blatantly obvious that theodore nott has fallen down the rabbit hole of love.

𑣲 little dragon I @retrobutterflies

You are not a fan of one of his admirers and he thinks you are a pretty idiot.

𑣲 i think he knows I @dreamcubed

you had fancied the mysteriously quiet slytherin boy for as long as you could remember (since first year), and, quite frankly, your best friend was sick of you going on about it without ever making a move

𑣲 you need to calm down I @/dreamcubed

after returning to hogwarts for a subsidiary 8th year to make up for the loss of 7th year due to the war, you are a completely different person, and muggle-born-hating theo finds himself obsessed with you

𑣲 tired I @mrsmikaelsxn

you were theo's childhood best friend and he waits for a time when you will love him back

𑣲 try that again I @distantdarlings

Pansy finds out that a group of Gryffindor girls has had a lot to say about you and your relationship with Theodore Nott. They think you won’t do anything about it, but you prove them wrong.

𑣲 house pride I @/distantdarlings

Theo is pissed that you seem to be interested in other guys. The two of you are not officially dating so you find it ridiculous that you can't talk to whomever you want. You have feelings for Theo, though, and think it might be interesting to put his jealousy to the test.

𑣲 by the fireplace I @/distantdarlings

You have been an Animagus for around a year now. You have quite a knack for learning everything you need to know about it quickly and Professor McGonagall really likes you. However, a fellow classmate, Theodore Nott, does not like you. And you couldn't care less. Both of you are in for a surprise when you accidentally meet in the library.

𑣲 one star rating of dirty talking I @darkmagic-s

Sexting through note passing, one of Theodore's favourite ways to bother you.

𑣲 you understand I @lexamiele

Hogwarts students aren't exactly known for minding their own business. Thankfully, you and Theo speak a language they don't.

𑣲 august I @cassiopeiasdaughter

Theo asks you to be his fake-girlfriend but you understand the assignment a little too well.

𑣲 gold rush I @/cassiopeiasdaughter

loving Theo in secret was not something you had ever planned

𑣲 invisible string I @/cassiopeiasdaughter

you get married in the middle of the night during the war

𑣲 i could never not love you I @battinscn

theodore nott is a self sabotaging selfish bastard. he jumps to conclusions too quickly and is too hot headed for his own good. you never thought you would ever be one to experience it first hand. yet, despite it all, you could never find it in you to truly hate him.

𑣲 i hate you I @/battinscn

tate has a very special lucky broom he relies on for every match. when you accidentally step on it, he loses his temper.

𑣲 trust me I @/battinscn

theodore’s always had a hard time trusting other. but you would think being his girlfriend that he would have some faith in you. turns out you were terrible wrong and one day, you had finally reached your limit.

𑣲 missing you I @/battinscn

theodore’s job takes him away from you a lot and hi here understanding for the most part. but after countless broken promises, you had enough.

𑣲 his hufflepuff I @yoursecrett

You were known as the sweetest Hufflepuff at Hogwarts, from tutoring students to being Madam Pomfrey's helper, you were constantly busy you liked it that way... Theodore Nott - The Slytherin Prefect, you had caught his attention, and everyone knows Theodore Nott never gives up on something or someone he wants.

𑣲 sugar rose I @0luv9

Fool in love, bright like silver, shinning for everyone to see. Life has never been this good for Theo and he'll go out of his way to keep it that way. Or Theodore being utterly and unapologetically in love with you.

𑣲 between the shelves I @weasleyreidstyles

𑣲 blind date I @magiclostinfantasy

Y/N and Theo's friends set them up on a blind date, not knowing they've secretly been dating.

𑣲 karma I @wordsarelife

karma is the way you wear his jersey, making sure his team will lose the game

𑣲 moonlight and masks I @gemissleeping

Newly turned Death Eater Theodore Nott is tasked with hunting down Harry Potter and the Order Operative protecting him. Only to discover the person he hunts happens to be the one he loves.

𑣲 anything for you I @aemondsi

in a universe where voldemort won, you and theo risk everything.

𑣲 nonsense I @writingsbychlo

you got that holiday glee from your true love.

𑣲 secret notes I @sunshinelollipopsicle

theodore and you begin leaving notes for each other, you knowing it's him but him unaware it's you, and eventually, you agree to meet in person

𑣲 dreaming of saturn I @thestarsarebrightertonight

theodore nott seems so out of reach to most people yet you have him right in your arms

𑣲 cinnamon girl I @/thestarsarebrightertonight

everyone knows you have a crush on theo , even he knows! so when you randomly start avoiding him one day , theodore cant help but go crazy.

𑣲 seeker I @crimsntwlip

𑣲 clandestine I @puffleyia

Mattheo can not seem to place his finger on what exactly you have been keeping from him. He confides in his best friend, Theo, though he ends up cutting the conversation short due to some urgent matters. (aka, you)

𑣲 for the first time I @vintagebishx

in which, the usual womaniser finds himself in love with a girl who doesn’t even know his name…

𑣲 no smoke, only love in the air I @papercorgiworld

When the guys notice that you don’t like their smoking habit they quit, but dealing with the withdrawal has your boyfriend constantly needy for a kiss.

𑣲 pansys interrogation I @/papercorgiworld

Weird behaviour and rumours have Pansy asking questions and figuring out who the guys are crushing on.

𑣲 theo I @/papercorgiworld

The things Theodore Nott does for love.

𑣲 babysitting I @rainyreading

𑣲 the only heaven i’ll be sent to (is when i’m alone with you) I deactivated account

Best friends get dared to play seven minutes in heaven but they just sit and talk the whole time and somehow manage to admit their feelings for each other

𑣲 our secrets are buried I deactivated account

where they go on a double date with separate dates but they spend the whole time flirting with each other

#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott smut #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fic recs #theodore nott fic rec #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader

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aurynsia · 3 months ago

Text

Unrequited, Terrifying

Series Masterlist

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

✉️ Summary

You had always been the sort to keep to yourself, never expecting any attention. That is until a mysterious letter is slipped under your door…

James Potter x Reader

Fluff | Comfort

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

✉️ Chapters

Chapter 1

A mysterious letter is slipped under your door.

Chapter 2

You begin to search for the culprit.

Chapter 3

A boy in your class haunts your search, uncovering lost feelings.

Chapter 4

You underestimated the Marauders, and your feelings towards your primary suspect.

Chapter 5

The search for your mystery suitor closes as you make an advance on your lovesick admirer.

Chapter 6

Your secret admirer is not so secret anymore.

Chapter 7

Your secret admirer finally gets the girl.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

✉️ Extras

Series mood board

Series playlist

Life After Hogwarts

James won’t settle for anything less than perfect for his perfect girl.

Like Father, Like Son

James discovers Harry has inherited his lover boy gene.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Comment to be added to the tag list so you don’t miss the next chapter!

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livinginshambles · 1 year ago

Text

No, you listen to me | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Aftermath of when you ran away from the Yule ball, cinderella style. after the Christmas holidays, both of you return to hogwarts with different objectives. James tries to find out who you are. You try to make sure he never will.

Notes: Not proofread. Mistakes. Once again because people keep forgetting, english is my third language, be kind. Themes of bullying, discrimination, very bad sister relationships. Regulus is like a BROTHER. James tries?

Masterlist Part one. Part three

_________________________

Your eyes scanned across the parchment, rereading James’ apology, but all you could really feel was disappointment and anger. What was even the point of trying to prove anyone wrong? You leaned back against the cushions of the armchair and pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them to steadily lock them in place. Then you let your head drop.

You pressed your watering eyes into your knee, effectively letting your pajama pants soak up any tears that threatened to fall. You gently rocked yourself back and forth while you tried to clear your mind. You wouldn’t let any of this get to you.

A hand pressed itself to your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Let’s get you out of here,” Regulus spoke up. His tone was hard, but only because of his clenched jaw when he thought back to how you had run off with a betrayed look. The second he realized it was James who was the mystery guy, he had kept a close eye. He knew things wouldn’t end well with those prejudiced twats, and he was right.

You pathetically looked up at him, and Regulus didn’t bother to hide his grimace at the sight of your face.

“Don’t exaggerate you arse,” you mumbled and shoved him light-heartedly.

“Back at you,” Regulus shot back. Then he sighed and motioned for you to scootch over so he could squeeze himself to fit in the armchair with you. “I know you. And I know you know what my brother and his friends are like. Why are you so disappointed?”

You stared at the lit fireplace, lost in thoughts, and eventually shrugged when Regulus nudged you out of your train of thoughts.

“I guess- I really liked the guy on the other side of the paper. And I really hoped that maybe he’d be in there somewhere. And I suppose that for a moment I actually thought James Potter was alright, you know?”

Regulus scrunched his nose in distaste. “Not at all, but go on.”

You shook your head in amusement at him, but let your eyes soften. “I’m sorry Reg,” you whispered.

“What for?”

“Making you listen to me whining about a guy that I know you have personal issues with.” You decided not to mention out loud the fact that those personal issues included the way Sirius had left Regulus behind in that household, escaping to live with the Potters and going as far as publicly calling James his true brother. Found family, he had proudly said.

Regulus knew what you were referring to. He smiled bitterly. “Well, brothers are overrated anyways. I’d much rather have a sister,” he said while nudging you again.

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know Reg; I’ll have to disagree with you on this one. I’d much rather have a brother than any number of sisters.”

“How convenient for us.”

“Very convenient indeed,” you smiled happily.

Regulus got up suddenly and turned to you with a stretched out hand. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I meant what I said, you know. Let’s get you out of here. I do recall you promising me tea at your new apartment.” He looked at his pocket watch. “Well, it’s 5 o’clock in the morning, and the first train leaves at 6. What’s the difference between leaving in the evening or right now.”

“You absolute champ.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and stuff the parchment in your transfigurations book. You and Regulus took the first train and left Hogwarts behind for the Christmas holidays. A break would do you good. Godric knows you needed to get James off your mind.

James carefully placed the glass slippers in his suitcase and covered them with a few sweaters just in case. He had caught the elves recklessly throwing suitcases into the storage compartment of the Hogwarts express before. You’d think that the use of magic would come in handy for tasks like this, but no.

“Prongs, I got you this?” Sirius pushed a sheet of bubble wrap into James’ arms. James offered Sirius an appreciative look.

After thoroughly explaining everything, from the moment when he found the parchment, to who you were and why he decided that he wanted to become someone you would approve of, Sirius had pieced the rest together and apologized to James for leaving such a shit impression on his mystery date.

James sheepishly pointed at his own solution. “Should I change it?”

“Well, I mean did you see how the elves throw around with our luggage?”

James mirrored Sirius' grin. This break truly came at a perfect time. After all, James would let you occupy his mind as much as he needed to find out who you were.

Two weeks flew by in a blur. You and Regulus had set up a Christmas tree inside your small apartment and had made a competition out of finding the most impressive gift for each other, with only 10 galleons.

You had found the most gorgeous black quill and enchanted ink set for him and were rather confident until Regulus had somehow shown up with what looked like emerald, antique and gorgeously over the top earrings. You had shot him a look and he had immediately provided a receipt to prove he had played fair.

“I just have great negotiating skills,” he’d said.

You had hummed skeptically in reply but had happily tried them on.

All in all, the holidays were a very welcome break for you. Which is why you were so very reluctant to pack your bags. The door to your room opened and Regulus stood in the entrance, leaning against the door frame.

“Get out,” you groaned in dismay at the interruption. Regulus shot you an unimpressed look.

“Not until I see you pack; we leave in less than an hour.”

You huffed in annoyance and threw a pillow at his head. “I’m not asking you again, Black.” You flopped back down on your bed dramatically in dismay at the prospect of going back to Hogwarts. Regulus elegantly tilted his head and let the pillow fly past him.

“One hour,” he enunciated, before walking off.

You threw another pillow his way and yelled, “Close the door when you leave, you twat!”

With a flick of his wand, your door closed.

Regulus waited for you with a bag in his hand.

“Where’s the rest of it,” you teased as you motioned to the small amount of luggage he held.

Regulus turned red but stuck his chin up. “Left them here for the summer,” he off-handedly replied. You laughed. “Great, so you can help carry this bag then,” you grinned and pushed your smaller bag into his hands while you marched out the door with your heavy luggage, dragged behind you.

When you entered the platform, and were handed the Hogwarts newspaper, you did not expect to find a picture of you and James at the Yule ball on the front page. ‘Who are you, Willow?’

You immediately folded the paper together and looked up in panic at Regulus. He looked around and found different students excitedly chittering to each other, all while pointing at the newspaper.

“That is so romantic,”

“I thought James was with Lily?”

“No, they’re just friends now.”

“I was wondering who he was dancing with.”

“She looks so pretty.”

“If I found out that my date was James Potter, I’d take off that mask immediately.”

“Well, she could just be shy.”

“So true, probably Hufflepuff, don’t you think?

“I really hope he finds her.”

You grimaced at everyone and all you wanted to do was disappear. “Relax, Y/N,” Regulus smoothly pulled you on board the Hogwarts Express. “No one will know it’s you.”

Despite knowing that he was absolutely right, you still faced the floor as you looked for an empty compartment. You didn’t realize that you were passing James, who had just come back from a train meeting with the other prefects. He had picked up on Regulus’ words and frowned. But before he could really stop to consider Regulus’ statement, Peter happily waved at him from the marauders’ compartment. “We’re over here!” he called out. James forgot about what he heard.

Remus held the newspaper up in the air when James finally took a seat. “Really?”

“It was Pad’s idea,” James immediately said.

Peter curiously grabbed the newspaper. “Any results?”

James shrugged. “It’s only the first day,” he tries to convince himself, but he was not very sure about this approach to find you.

“It’s going to work out, trust me,” Sirius said. “When she sees that you’re going to this extent to find her, you’ll definitely woo her for sure,” he claimed.

Remus pulled a face. “I mean, if she ran off cause you two were being pricks, again,” he gave both Sirius and James a sharp look. “And hasn’t answered any of your messages, I don’t think starting a witch-hunt of sorts is the way to find her,” he voiced out his opinion. ”She clearly doesn’t want to be found.”

“What are you calling my methods bad?” Sirius squinted his eyes at Remus in mock offense.

“I’m just saying they wouldn’t exactly woo me,” Remus dryly remarked.

“And yet-“

“Guys,” James interrupted. “I just want to find her and apologize. And ask her for another chance to prove that I’m more than what she saw.”

“Well,” Peter started. He turned red when all eyes were suddenly on him. “She will probably not reveal herself. But she’s still a student here. And she knows who you are. So maybe if you publicly show off kind acts, she’ll see how you can be?”

There was a beat of silence and for a moment, Peter wanted to change into a rat and crawl into a hole to hide. But suddenly he was patted on the back by James. “Peter, you absolute champ!”

James Potter was acting weird, and you knew exactly what he was trying to do. You huffed to yourself as you marched right past him while he held the door open for his friends and you, who trailed in right behind them.

Previously, James would have definitely let the door fall in your face, and you had anticipated so, thus smoothly switching your books to your left arm, putting your right hand in front of you in a bracing manner. And so it happened that you stood there frozen, hand flat against James' chest, because he had turned around fully to hold the door open for you.

You embarrassedly dropped your hand that still lingered against him, and a deep frown settled on your face.

“I’d take ten points from Slytherin for touching a student without their consent, but I suppose I’ll let it slide for today,” he arrogantly said. You wanted to beat him up. But you supposed you could let it slide for today. You scowled at him and fled past him towards your designated seat.

Something tugged inside James’ chest as he watched you turn your back towards him and hurry away. He walked to join the rest of the marauders, a ghost feeling of your palm against his chest.

It hadn’t just been you that he was more civilized with. You noticed when you found him volunteering in the library, putting away books back on the shelves manually. This bothered you, because he tended to specifically linger around the particular section in the back about Egyptian rites, your favorite. You knew he was there to hopefully spot any often-returning students.

You also noticed that less and less students were coming back to the common room, hexed. Aside from snide remarks, you hadn’t encountered much animosity from him anymore either.

Instead, you found yourself on assigned patrol with him, despite the fact that Regulus had kindly offered to jinx his broom during Quidditch practice so you wouldn’t have to.

“So,” James broke the silence. “How was your holiday?”

“Why do you want to know,” you immediately shot back before you could stop yourself. James raised his hands in surrender. “Woah, sorry, L/N, just making conversation here.”

You sighed and forced your shoulders to lose their tension. “It was fine.”

“Fine.” James repeated.

“Fine,” you confirmed.

That was the end of your conversation, in your opinion. James however, seemed to think differently.

“So did you get any nice presents?”

You shot him an annoyed look but ended up answering anyway. “Yes actually, Regulus got me these earrings,” you said, and you tilted your head to show him. James’ eyes lingered on your earrings. They looked good on you. The exaggerated gem made you stand out despite your sober attire.

“What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?”

“Why, did your parents not buy you anything or what?”

You halted mid-step and stared up at James. He noticed that he had said something wrong, and when your sisters came to mind, he hurriedly tried to take his words back. You didn’t let him.

“I don’t go home for the holidays,” you settled on. “I’m not particularly welcome there. My parents are as big of a fan of me, as Alyssa and Marla are.” You laughed bitterly and continued walking. James followed behind you, he didn’t say a word, instead waited for you to continue.

“Well, I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist. They wouldn’t want to associate themselves with that, of course,” you sarcastically remarked.

James felt guilt slowly seep in. Your words resonated in his mind and his hands grasped the folded parchment in the pocket of his robes tightly. Those were his exact same words of that night at the Yule ball, and he bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, surprise evident in your eyes. “You’re sorry?” You asked him in disbelief.

James nodded. If he couldn’t say it to his mystery girl, at least he could say it to you, he figured.

James watched your eyes light up slightly and for a moment, he was lost in a trance. He snapped out of it when you returned the question. “So how was your holiday?”

He grinned at the olive branch that you were reaching out. “Mine was fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” he teased. You fought the smile that threatened to tug on your lips.

Patrol ended without any incidents to report and when you wrote that down, James peered over your shoulder to catch your circled dot on the ‘i’ of “nothing to report.” A sense of déjà vu dawned on him, but the sheer unconscious refusal to even consider you a possibility kept your secret safe.

When you were in bed that night, you couldn’t help but think about how at ease you had felt for the remainder of the night with James, basking in the familiarity of the person behind the paper.

With every patrol, you two put another step forward in the direction of a friendship of some sorts.

James couldn't deny the fact that with each time, he started to look forward to the next time, almost the same giddy feeling fluttering in his stomach as each time he would unfold his parchment to find new kind words written there.

You and Willow would be friends, James thought, as he looked at you while you were casually explaining Transfiguration to him while you two strolled through the corridors, not without the occasional insult at his 'lack of competence'.

But for now, James enjoyed the privilege of calling you by your first name. A friend of some sorts, he liked to think.

Perhaps he was wrong about Slytherins. Sure, there were some rotten apples, but he supposed there were rotten apples in each house. And you weren't so bad after all.

For the first time in a long time, you enjoyed your days at Hogwarts. Truly enjoyed them. You would send Regulus to the library to get you your favourite books, and would patrol every Thursday with James unless he had Quidditch practice. Then you would patrol with Abrams. You’d come across James, who would nod with a kind smile at you as you two have come to be cautious friends and patrol-partners. You hadn’t really heard anything from your sisters either, which was absolute bliss as well.

But then one day, you were studying Transfiguration by yourself in the library, and you just so happened to need to go to the bathroom. When you returned, you noticed your book was missing and you pulled a sour face before requesting a new one from Professor McGonagall who had looked over her glasses at you.

But that hadn’t been the bad part. No, the bad part was that you had completely forgotten that you had put your enchanted parchment that connected yours to James’ inside that book.

Sirius had victoriously grinned at his funny prank idea. He would change some spells in your book so that you would mess up and become a toad in class. He tossed the book on a table in the common room and a piece of paper slid out.

Sirius had seen the piece of paper before, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers. He jumped up, ran towards his room, and rummaged through James’ nightstand before finding James' parchment under his pillow and wrote something on it. He walked back down the stairs with James’ paper, and he watched in disbelief as a messy ‘hello’ appeared on the paper that your sisters now held. “Merlin,” he breathed out, but your sisters had already stormed out of the room.

You entered the Great Hall and felt everyone staring at you and whispering. Even fellow Slytherin students looked at you in contempt. You gave Regulus a confused look when you walked to the free seat next to him. He quietly slid over the Hogwarts newspaper.

Front page again. ‘Mystery girl uncovered. Not a Willow, but a Hanging Tree.”

You didn’t need to read the rest; you tore your eyes away from the paper. Tears threatened to spill, but you tried to keep a cool front. You turned around to look for James and found him and his friends sitting right behind you.

Whoever thought that putting The Gryffindor table and Slytherin table next to each other should rot in the dungeons, you bitterly thought.

It was your sister who spoke up first. “I can’t believe someone like you would make themselves out to be a victim. ‘Oh no, my sisters bully me,’” she mocked you.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks and got up. She got up as well and you stood eye to eye with each other. “You’re pathetic,” She sneered. “You’re the real mistake here. So go do what you do best- run away.”

You wanted to say something. Anything. But you felt weak and small again. So you turned around and walked away. Whispers continued to fill the room as everyone seemed to have something to say about you.

“How embarrassing.”

“She should be ashamed”

“A Slytherin like her?”

“She definitely wasted James’ time.”

With every comment you heard, you bit harder on the inside of your cheek, and when that last comment dropped, you balled your fists. Why should you be the one to walk away?

You turned around furiously and marched back towards James, who had gotten up to follow you and reached out his hand. You recoiled.

“Y/N, listen-“

“No, you listen to me,” you spat at him. You looked him up and down with a pained look, holding back tears of frustration and while trying to convey as much disgust as you could.

“If you didn’t like what you found out, you could’ve kept it to yourself and thrown the damn paper away. You had no right to publicly try to humiliate me like this. All of your kindness in an attempt to be a good person only shows how wretched you really are when you stop pretending and act cruelly true to yourself.”

James' eyes flashed with hurt and he shook his head, words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to cover his ears; he didn’t want to hear you say this to him. This isn’t what he wanted at all. You were wrong. He didn’t even know it was you until he saw the newspaper this morning.

But you weren’t finished talking yet.

“Has it ever even occurred to any of you,” you looked at the people behind him. You stared your sisters dead in the eye. “That maybe your prejudice and thoughtless assumptions and insults about how awful or evil we Slytherins are, is the very thing that pushes us down that path?”

You turned your attention back to James, who had an unreadable expression on his face now. “Your cruel comments are part of the reason and you, James Potter, are especially cruel.”

Your tone was sharp, face hardened and the entire Great Hall had fallen silent. Not even the professors spoke up. James felt like you had hit him in the face, and you might as well have. He looked down in shame at your words.

You shakily let out your breath and lowered your voice again. This time, you sounded tired. Reality seemed to dawn upon you that everyone in the great hall was listening to you, and you shook your head to yourself, taking a step back. You scoffed softly.

“I suppose you are truly worthy of the Gryffindor name; overly proud and arrogant in the name of bravery with a tendency to prove yourself, disregarding others and their feelings.” Your venomous words cut through James' heart.

James watched you walk away again and everything around him seemed to fade. He was losing you again. How had he not seen this?

Your situation with your sisters. The way you ran away at the Yule ball when he made a crude remark about Slytherins. The sense of déjà vu every time you walked past him, back turned towards him. Your handwriting. The feeling of your hand pressed to his chest just as when you two danced. The way you were great at transfiguration and could have easily transfigured those glass slippers. The way Regulus was the only student to frequently visit your favourite book section in the library. The chills you had sent down his back when you had allowed him to call you by your first name, and in return had called him James.

‘I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist.’

‘No one will know it’s you.’

Everyone knows.

Preview if interested

Part three

Taglist:

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#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter angst #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #young james potter #young james potter x reader #marauder x reader #marauders x reader

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cherrixpie · 9 days ago

Text

NEMESIS

part six of six

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. Shame that he was just so irrestible.

↬ eventual nsfw content (at ca. 8k words); wc: 14.8k (because why not); cw: mentions of violence, swearing, blood, smut (mdni) ; tags: gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader, enemies to lovers ; nsfw tags: oral fem receiving, praise, teasing, overstimulation, p in v, aftercare

( masterlist )

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you hurried past students and ghosts alike. In your vision, they were reduced to flashes of blue, yellow, green and red, or an ethereal shimmering, background noise, the first layer on a canvas.

Once you reached the top step, you were gasping for breath, but the lack of oxygen didn't stop you from running along the wall to avoid the crowd that would only slow you down, simultaneously mapping out Hogwarts inside your head to take the quickest route to Dumbledore's office. Half aware that many heads were turning after you, some whispering behind their hands, you crossed a corner into an emptier corridor and only hastened your tempo.

Fictitious yet haunting images flashed before your waking eye as your imagination ran wild with what could possibly have happened to Mattheo. He'd get in fights constantly, but, to your knowledge, had never been summoned to the headmaster. Though, Dumbledore hadn't asked for him but you. Fear tore at your chest, adding to the ache of running. Was Mattheo so badly hurt that he felt the need to console his friends- and significant other?

In the last corridor, you barely stumbled towards the stairs that led up to the headmaster's office and gasped the password at the gargoyle who nodded approvingly and let you in. Barely managing to climb the last few steps, you slumped against the door to Dumbledore's office and knocked your fist against it. “Step in!” the headmaster’s old voice called from the other end and you pressed down the handle to swing the door open.

You'd been in this office once already, the night almost six years ago, after you and your friends had found the chamber of secrets and Harry had slayed the basilisk inside. There'd been a feast after, but you weren't sure if Mattheo had attended it. You'd have to ask him. Over the last days, you'd continued your habit from the tutoring lessons, of teasing each other about the way you'd previously perceived the other- though it was a lot more fun on his part when you got to hear his side of the story, living through all the events you did but experiencing them so differently. Sometimes it was funny and you found yourself giggling about things like preschool children. Other times, it was melancholic, a plea for better times or an unwelcome reminder of the difficulty of your relationship.

The portraits on the walls were pretending to be sleeping, but you couldn't be fooled anymore since your fateful run-in with chattery Dorothy Dankworth. Filigree golden instruments stood along the walls, fulfilling their mysterious purposes, and a great golden phoenix, Fawkes, sat on his place on Dumbledore's desk. The headmaster himself sat behind the desk and looked up from his parchment when you stepped in, still panting audibly for breath. His thin lips pulled into a smile as he lowered his half moon spectacles and his piercing blue eyes met yours.

You knew he could do legilimency, just as Mattheo could. Only, Mattheo had promised you never to use it against you without your knowledge, and the man sitting across from you had never made such promises.

But Dumbledore averted his stare fairly quickly and rose from his seat behind the desk, walking around it and beckoning you closer. With hesitant steps, feet still hurting from your little sprint through a huge damn castle, you walked towards him and he offered you a chair he conjured out of thin air. Without a word - you were still too out of breath - you sat down on it and he reoccupied his seat as well, clasping his hands together over the table.

“Miss Lovegood may have told you why I wished to speak to you,” he said calmly, his expression painfully serious. Oh, what you would have given for a calming smile or a winking eye right now, the safety and comfort the headmaster always displayed at the start-of-the-term feasts.

“Is he hurt?” you asked, for once without regard to proper etiquette. Your hands were clenched into fists beneath your robes, nails digging into the flesh of your palm as you fearfully awaited Dumbledore's answer.

For a few seconds, Dumbledore surveyed you thoughtfully, slightly crooking his head, before giving you the smallest of smiles. “It is true, Mr. Riddle got involved into a fight today, but he is not seriously injured. Though he would do well with medical treatment, which I hear he refused.” You breathed a sigh of relief, as confusion rose within you. Why then had you been called to the headmasters office? Why weren't you already with your boyfriend, patching him up?

“Gossip spreads incredibly fast in Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore quietly, “as you have experienced yourself. So I must ask: are you aware what the cause of Mr. Riddle's disagreement with two very unfortunate Gryffindor boys in your year was?”

“No,” you replied truthfully, going through the Gryffindor boys in your year one by one. Ron and Harry were the most likely candidates, but to your knowledge, they had spent the whole day up in Gryffindor tower and had still been there when Hermoine and you went on your way down. You could rule Neville out definitively, which left-

“Though Mr. Riddle remains with no major injuries, the same cannot be said for Mr. Finnigan and Mr. Thomas,” said Dumbledore seriously. “If eyewitnesses are to be believed, Mr. Riddle attacked Mr. Finnigan upon overhearing him suggesting to Mr. Thomas how you would come to your senses eventually, that once Mr. Riddle would get bored of you, you would come, ah, ‘crawling back’ to them.” Dumbledore seemed almost embarrassed to say this out loud.

Biting down on your lip, you lowered your gaze. It was true, Seamus had been very reserved towards you ever since you'd kissed Mattheo the day after his fight with Ron. It really shouldn't come as a surprise that he had said these things, though you'd had more respect of him before. And Mattheo… you couldn't find it in yourself to be angry at him, not when a stupid fuzzy feeling in your chest betrayed how flattered you felt that he had tried to defend your honor, even though you ultimately would have preferred it hadn't happened and no one were injured right now.

“Miss y/n?” Dumbledore asked and you looked back up at him. “Your relationship with Mr Riddle seems to be a popular topic of discussion all around the castle these days. Just yesterday, I overheard the fat monk and Sir Nicolas talking about it. So I regret weighing in on a topic you are probably long tired of.” So that was it. Dumbledore wanted to know about your relationship to Mattheo. And he was right, you weren't really in the mood of discussing it with your headmaster.

You realized he was looking at you, awaiting some sort of reaction, and you nodded. “It's fine.” It was not fine, but really, you just wanted to get this over with quickly so you could see if Mattheo was really alright as Dumbledore had said.

“To my understanding,” said Dumbledore, “and you may correct me if I'm wrong, you’re Mr. Riddle’s first girlfriend- not counting his many -uh- exploits, as well as his only relation outside of his friend group.” Reluctantly, you nodded. This felt wrong. What was he getting at?

“You must have met a great deal of resistance from your peers, especially your own house,” he continued. “Tell me, my dear: what do you see in Mr. Riddle others do not?”

Though you were taken aback by the question, you didn't need to think about it long. “What people think of him is entirely founded on the assumption that he must be like his father," you said seriously, "But you yourself will surely agree with me that it's not blood that is important, or what family you belong to, but how you choose to live your life and what decisions you make for yourself.”

“But,” Dumbledore said gently, “Mr. Riddle has been notorious for violence for quite some time, as you yourself must know.”

“If you tell someone over and over again that they are going to be a monster, that that is the path cut out for them,” you said, your voice rising a little as you got more heated, “You are not allowed to be shocked or surprised when they follow the path you pointed for them all their life!” To make your point, you sat up a little straighter and placed your hands on Dumbledore's desk. “Mattheo is a person, he's always been, what did you expect would happen if there is no hand extended to him?”

“So, you extend that hand to him?” asked Dumbledore calmly and watched you very carefully over the rim of his half moon spectacles.

“No,” you said curtly, “that was your job. For god’s sake, Mattheo isn't my charity case!” Realizing how loud you'd become unintentionally, you took a deep intake of breath to calm yourself. Respect for your teachers had always been important to you, Mattheo was the one with the anti-authority leanings. “Headmaster, I don't know what you expect me to say. But I'm not with Mattheo to- to save him or something, I'm with him because I love him.”

“Love, Miss y/n,” said Dumbledore pensively, “is often the greatest weapon against darkness. But it is not always enough to save someone who does not wish to be saved.”

“What are you saying?” you pressed, not breaking eye contact as your fingers clenched around each other on the table, curled into a tight net.

Dumbledore breathed a long sigh, and for a moment, he looked older than you'd ever seen him. “Mattheo Riddle is a young man burdened with a name that carries a great deal of darkness. I fear that darkness is eager to claim him.” He leaned forward ever so slightly. “I quite agree with you that it is not our blood that defines us. But do you believe Mattheo understands that?”

You couldn't answer this. In whispers, Mattheo had confided in you about his parentage, what some called his legacy to follow his father’s footsteps. As an incredibly powerful wizard, he'd always been expected to use these powers for the worst. It had been drilled into his head, that nothing about him could be good, that he would always be the destruction of goodness, the epitome of heinousness. He had confessed to you how he never knew how to hold you, as if you were an angel from another dimension. Too good for him, too pure to be touched by him, incorruptible and therefore never to be his, truly.

Dumbledore seemed to sense your inner conflict and addressed you, making you look up at him. “There is a storm inside that boy, one that I believe he doesn't know how to quiet. And yet, with you, he may be able to. But I advise you to let caution rule. You may be his light in the shadows, but even the brightest light cannot force someone to walk out of the dark.”

“Is that all?” you asked, burning to escape the headmasters office that seemed to get more cramped with each second. Dumbledore examined you closely, but then he nodded and you rose from your seat in an instant. Your hand already on the door handle, he called your name one last time and you turned around.

“Miss y/n?” asked Dumbledore, and the lightest of smiles played around his lips, though it seemed tainted with worry and sadness. “I do sleep better at night, knowing Mr. Riddle has you in his life.”

Leaving the office, you took off to Gryffindor tower at once, sprinting through halls and up the stairs until your lungs seemed to be bleeding and screaming in protest. Stumbling through the portrait hole, you caught sight of a group of Gryffindors in your year huddled together, throwing you both judgemental and apprehensive looks as you passed them, but neither of your closest friends were among them, so you paid them no mind.

Thankfully, the girl's dormitory was empty when you broke through the door, panting and gasping for air. Walking over to your bed, you pulled your medical bag out of your cupboard, flung the handle over your shoulder and took off down the stairs again. But when you went to make your way across the common room, you suddenly crossed paths with Ron. Assuming he'd ignore you, you tried to rush past him but his voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Can we talk?”

You turned around, finding him looking a little embarrassed and self-conscious, though he was still frowning. Even though the fight had been about a week ago, some of the bruises were still visible on his face, in spite of Madam Pomphrey’s medical miracles. “What is it?” you said, trying not to sound too impatient.

Ron blew out a long breath through his mouth, rocked lightly on the balls of his feet and looked anywhere but you. When you were just about to ask again, he glanced back at you and his frown deepened. “I was… a bit of an asshole last week.”

These barely muttered words stunned you enough to momentarily forget about Mattheo and concentrate your attention on the boy standing before you, who was rubbing his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah… kinda…” you said, suddenly realizing that you weren't even mad at him anymore. His words had been cruel, but you hadn't been innocent either, and he was one of your best friends. You knew he hadn't meant to hurt you, and he had gotten his comeuppance already.

“Look, I-” he seemed to be looking for the right words, “I didn't mean what I said about you being stupid and naive and throwing yourself at Riddle. I'm really sorry.”

“It's fine,” you said, after a short pause. “I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lied to you all like that, you guys are my best friends. I was just afraid that you might react, well, disproportionately.”

“You're going to keep seeing him then?” Ron asked, barely managing to keep the bitterness out of his tone. At least he wasn't shouting anymore, and you felt confident enough to quirk a little smile. “Well, yes. Actually, I was just on the way.”

Ron clenched his jaw. “I don’t trust him. I probably never will. But if he ever hurts you, I swear I’l-” He stopped himself and sighed, giving you a hesitant smile. “Just be careful, okay? Look, you're like a sister to me, that's why I was such a bloody idiot about this. I just don't want to see you get hurt.”

“You won't,” you promised, and, after a second of hesitation, you closed the distance between the two of you and wrapped your arms around him. It was kind of hard because Ron towered over you with his considerable height, but nevertheless, he returned the embrace. When you shifted, he winced slightly and you broke apart. “Still hurts?” you asked empathetically.

Ron shrugged. “I guess I deserve that. Have fun with your boyfriend.” Though he rolled his eyes, he seemed in a much better mood than before.

Ten minutes later, you hurried down the steps to the dungeons and flew past the torches on the walls, blazing through your vision, in search of the Slytherin common room. When visiting the dungeons, you'd only ever been to the kitchens. There had never been an occasion when you'd felt the desire to enter the snakes den. Up until now.

Rounding another corner, you were suddenly faced with a dead end. Dark brick obstructed your way, cold and unsympathetic to your plight. You groaned in growing desperation, already turning on your heel to keep looking for the entrance, when suddenly, you gasped. Someone emerged from the wall, walking through stone, it seemed, as if it were nothing but fog. When they broke apart from the wall, you realized it was Theodore Nott. Equally surprised to find you, his eyes widened, then dropped to your medical bag.

“Did somebody already get you?” He asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. To be on the receiving end of Nott’s staring was slightly terrifying and your fingers closed around the handle of your bag.

“Nobody got me,” you answered, growing more self-conscious by the second. Nott seemed so hostile- did Mattheo not want to see you? “I just… heard what happened and I wanted to come and… well…” Gesturing vaguely to your medical bag, your voice drowned off uncertainly.

But Nott only said “good” and motioned you towards him. When you came to a halt next to him, faced with the dark wall, he cleared his throat and said “vaframentum” at the wall. It seemed to be the password, as he held you by the arm and walked back through the seemingly hard brick, pulling you through with him.

It was the most peculiar feeling to walk through a wall, it seemed to mold around you like a tight suit, unable to breathe, until you came out on the other side the split of a second later. You shuddered, looked back at the brick and shook your head. “No offense, but I prefer our entrance, I think. Do people ever get stuck in there?”

“I think there was a kid, few decades back,” said Nott easily. You noticed his eyes were quite cautious as they surveyed you, but he didn't seem as hostile anymore. “He's up there.” Nott indicated something above you and only now did you properly appreciate the sight before you.

The Slytherin common room was somehow just like you had expected. The whole room was tinted in a greenish hue due to it being beneath the black lake and the portraits of many stern looking witches and wizards adorned the dark walls. Though a fire cackled in the large sophisticated fireplace, the room was a good few degrees cooler than the Gryffindor common room. The couches were of black leather and very elegant and desks stood along the walls, groaning under quills and parchment.

You looked up into the direction Nott had indicated and saw a flight of stairs leading upwards, where the dormitories had to be. With a short nod, you followed him, struggling to keep up with his long strides as you climbed the stairs. Walking up the staircase in silence, you passed many doors though none seemed to be the right one. Finally, Nott came to a halt before a large wooden door, undoubtedly the Slytherin boy's dormitory.

For the split of a second, Nott seemed to hesitate, but then, he brushed past you and opened the door. Because his large frame obscured much of what lay beyond the doorway, you could only see several pairs of feet and a curl of smoke rising over their heads, and hear Mattheo's voice, rough and agitated as he snapped at his friend. “Not you again, piss off, Nott! I need everyone to get out of my damn face.”

“It's not a pleasure looking at your face right now, I can assure you, mate,” Nott replied, coolly, leaning against the doorframe. “You look like Frankenstein's monster.”

A humorless chuckle sounded through the room and you heard someone shift. His voice, his laugh was enough for you to know that whatever had happened during that brawl had not been enough to fulfill Mattheo's need to make someone bleed for it, and for a split second, you were almost worried about Nott, even though you knew Mattheo loved him like a brother. “Oh great, another lecture,” Mattheo drawled sarcastically, looking to provoke, “you know, for someone who is not my mother, you sure nag like one.”

You couldn't help it, you couldn't stifle the little chuckle that left your throat at their banter. Silence fell upon the room. Next second, Nott was suddenly pushed away with a rough thrust and Mattheo stood before you in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, one arm braced against the wood, his posture careless yet undeniably tense. His knuckles were split, seeping with blood, but he didn't seem to care. Neither did he seem pained by the deep cut that split his lower lip, swollen and dark, and the faint bruise that was already blooming on his cheek.

His hair was even messier than usual, like he'd run his hand through it too many times in frustration, and he removed the cigarette from his lips to flick it down and stamp on it to suffocate the glowing embers. As he scanned your soft figure and noticed your chest heaving slightly, every breath somewhat audible as a slight hitch, his dark eyes flickered, something unreadable flashing behind them. A smirk ghosted his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Didn't think I'd be seeing you here, princess,” he drawled, his voice low and rough, yet his eyes had somewhat softened at the sight of you. “If I knew getting my face bashed in would get you sneaking into my dorm, I might have done it sooner.”

Though worry tugged at your heartstrings at the sight of his injuries, you rolled your eyes slightly as a little smile played around your lips. Mattheo's eyes seemed to cling to them like a drowning man to his lifeline and he lowered his head slightly, grinning irresistibly down at you. Before he could try anything though, you gave him a glare and a flick against the forehead. “None of that until I have fixed that lip.”

Your rejection couldn't wash the sly smile off his lips. “I'm sure this is one of those things you can kiss better.” Behind him, you thought you heard someone gag, and Mattheo turned around sharply, glaring at Malfoy who seemed to be the culprit. “Why don't you shut your ferret ass mouth in front of my girl, Malfoy, before I make your face even prettier than Finnigan’s?” In an instant, Malfoy fell silent, merely glowering at the ground. Beside him, Lorenzo Berkshire gave you a little wave and smile that you returned.

Mattheo's eyes flickered briefly between the two of you, but without another comment, he seized you around the waist and pulled you against him and into the room. It was very orderly, probably not because of Mattheo. Zabini, Malfoy and Lorenzo seemed to stand around the four poster you assumed to be Mattheo's, looking at you with varying expressions of interest, disapproval and encouragement.

“Oi, idiots,” said Mattheo gruffly as he sat down on his mattress and pulled you along with him until you almost sat in his lap. “Kindly get your stupid faces out of my girlfriend's sight.” He seemed to take great satisfaction in calling you his girlfriend and his fingers curled into the flesh of your waist as he watched the others with sharp eyes.

“Mattheo,” you said softly, attempting to calm the storm that still seemed to be raging inside him. His head snapped around at you and his expression changed in an instant, softening visibly. His lips ran a line up your temple as he pulled you even closer. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Malfoy storm out of the room. Zabini followed, dragging a pissed looking Nott along with him, and Lorenzo left last, with a friendly smile your way.

Once the door fell shut behind them, you freed yourself from Mattheo’s hold. A disgruntled frown crossed his face, but he didn't try to stop you and only wrapped his hands around your knees, thumbs rubbing lazy circles onto your thights. A trickle of blood made its way down his chin and you brushed it away with a fleeting touch, careful not to hurt him. Many of his wounds were already scabby, but untreated. A defeated sigh lift your lips and you noticed Mattheo's eyes snapping down to them. “Why didn't you clean your wounds, Mattheo? You must be in a lot of pain.”

A casual grin tugged at his lips as he looked up at you, his dark curls falling into his eyes but he made no effort to brush them away, perhaps hoping you would. “You worried about me?” he asked in a teasing tone, his hands traveling up your thigh almost indiscernibly. “Careful, princess, you're gonna make me all soft for you.”

Shaking your head at his antics, but unable to suppress a smile, you placed your medical bag next to Mattheo on the bed and opened it to grab a small towel. With a murmured “aquamenti”, you moistened it and started to clean his cuts and bruises. You could feel his eyes on you, boring into your skull with a new intensity as he crooked his head. When you reached his lip and ran the cloth ever so carefully over his swollen cut, he didn't even wince but only leaned up as if chasing your lips for a kiss.

Quickly, you turned away, shaking your head in disbelief. “Really, Mattheo, you’re impossible. You're bleeding and bruising up and you still-” Breaking off with another sigh, you averted your eyes from his that had begun to glint at your abashed expression. You discarded the towel and instead took the murtlap essence, dipped your fingers into the cold liquid and began dabbing it onto the cut on his lip.

“Not gonna lie,” he said, lowering his voice slightly and it resonated in the limited space between his and your lips. “You fussing over me is kind of hot.” His eyes searched for yours, and when they met, his gaze locked you in place, unable to take your eyes off of him. “I wanted you to do it,” he said huskily, “I didn't clean ‘em because I wanted you to do it.”

The way your brows scrunched together almost had him on his knees for you. You looked so fucking irresistible in the dim light of his dorm, looking down at him with worry etched into your gaze and the soft touch of your hands. No one had ever cared for him like this. No one had ever cared enough to heal him, patch him up. Mattheo himself had mostly just let the injuries be until they vanished or turned into messy scars. Not that he'd ever cared. If anything, it only made people flinch back even more. And as much as he hated them for their silent judgement, there was a certain satisfaction in seeing the fear in their eyes when they looked at him.

Fear. Mattheo had found himself reveling in it ever since he'd first experienced it: the summer after his father had returned from his Albanian exile. Before, it’d only ever bothered him how people burst out of the way when he walked down hallways. But now, doing to them what was done to him seemed not only just in a twisted way, but satisfactory. Even seeing his friends flinch away from him from time to time was a warped sort of thrill he relished.

But not with you. Mattheo hated the thought that he might see the same fear he'd seen in others reflected in your eyes. Your horrified expression after the brawl with Weasley had been enough of an appetizer to make him detest the very thought. No, you saw something in him, something good, something worth worrying about. And for the first time in his life, Mattheo didn't want to prove anyone's assumptions right by being as much of a monster as they all expected, but to be whatever you liked about him, though he couldn't really imagine what that might be.

“Knew you'd come,” he said, finally, after a short silence during which you had been dabbing at a cut through his brow, eyes narrowed adorably in concentration. “You're too kind, princess.” He couldn't resist urging you closer, his hands still cupping your lower thighs. Though his head was craned upwards, he couldn't have cared less about neck strain. He'd not let himself be deprived of the sight of you fussing over him with such tender care. A smirk played around his lips and he could see your eyes flick down to them, an almost unnoticeable tint of pink on your cheeks. Fucking hell, how he loved to see you blush.

Almost instinctively, his hands tightened and your breath hitched a little. Mattheo couldn't help the light groan that left his lips. “You should be in bed, not sneaking into the serpent’s den for your reckless boyfriend.”

To his surprise, you breathed an amused chuckle and ruffled his hair. He could have moaned when your fingers grazed over his scalp, he was damn near purring, leaning into your touch and catching your thumb between his teeth. You gasped in faux indignation and delivered the lightest of slaps to his temple. But a soft smile spread across your utterly kissable lips. “Tragically, I would do it any day.”

Mattheo felt something pull tight in his chest at your words, a warmth he wasn’t prepared for, something dangerous in its softness. He covered it the only way he knew how: with a smirk, with teasing, with the same careless charm that usually kept people at arm’s length. But it didn't quite work with you. Not when you were this close, your hands so gentle against his bruised skin, your eyes holding none of the judgement he was used to. He forced a chuckle, tilting his head as if unaffected, as if you hadn’t just unraveled something inside him with a single sentence. “Tempting idea, if it gets you all over me.”

It was meant to be flirty, meant to be light, but even he could hear the edge of truth beneath it- because, Merlin help him, he was starting to think he liked being taken care of by you. And that? That terrified him more than any fight ever could. The little laugh that spluttered past your lips didn't improve his precarious situation. “There are easier ways to do that, you know,” you said, quirking an eyebrow. “Not involving sending people to the hospital wing, I mean.”

Your heart skipped a beat when Mattheo's expression darkened visibly, as if the storm you'd managed to calm for a few minutes was brewing up again, swirling in his dark eyes. His jaw clenched dangerously and again, his grip on your thighs tightened as if on instinct. “They deserved it. Like I'd ever let them talk about you like that and do nothing." You could tell he was still agitated by what Seamus had said, his knee rocking restlessly and the words practically spat out of his mouth.

Frowning, you dabbed at his cheek and drew soft circles on his blooming bruise. “Mattheo, people just need time. Before I came here, Ron apologized to me. It will be the same with the rest, they'll get used to it.”

But your attempt to soothe his simmering wrath, it only seemed to spur him on as his eyes hardened. “Did you forgive him?” he asked through clenched teeth, still looking up at you with unwavering attention.

You hesitated upon recognizing the barely suppressed fury in his tone and leaned down peck his healing lips. Though his lips chased after yours, you didn't want to risk reopening the cut and drew away decisively. “Well,” you said, ignoring the way one of his index fingers started to draw a line up your thigh and the goosebumps it left in its wake. “Yes,” you confessed, “for what he said about me, at least.”

A harsh “tch” made its way past his lips and the next words he nearly growled. “Of course you did.”

Feeling a pinch of defiance, you got a hold of Mattheo’s hand that had been wandering up to your skirt and placed it firmly back on your knee. “So, you think I was wrong to forgive him?” you asked with a frown.

For the first time this evening, Mattheo tore his eyes away from yours and fixed them instead on a spot somewhere on your belly where your shirt was tucked neatly into your school skirt. “‘m not gonna sit here and pretend I don't benefit from you being so damn forgiving. But I guess that's what you have me for now.” Though he shrugged, you saw that his shoulders were tense and caught his fingers wrapping around each other, squeezing the bleeding knuckles that only emitted more blood.

“You’ll be my guard dog for the bad guys then?” you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. A heavy tension had set upon the room, weighing down on you like a thick blanket. His touch and his intense, dark eyes paired with his agitation and words of boiling rage. The inevitable mood swings, when he'd attempt to shield his true feelings behind a well crafted mask of sarcasm and flirtatious teasing. Mattheo Riddle was a rollercoaster of a man, and it was hard to keep up with him at times. But then again, you'd always known that.

Instead of switching to a more conversational and casual tone, Mattheo suddenly brushed your hand off. You could practically see it in his eyes, like closing shutters of a dimly lit house. Mattheo was closing himself off, and he moved his head so your arm fell helplessly to his side. His hands had detached themselves from your thighs as his fingers seemed to look for another smoke in his inside pocket. “You're wasting your time, love. Not like a few bruises are gonna kill me.”

With an almost exasperated sigh, you crouched down before him so that you were now the one looking up at him and closed your fingers around his red and slimy hands. Not a muscle twitched in his face, it seemed to have frozen over into a mask of indifference. “Mattheo, I want to,” you said, firmly and in great earnest, “I don't want to see you hurt. Please-” your voice dropped down to a low whisper, “please let me help you.”

Fuck. You'd used the magic word, whether it had been conscious or not. Mattheo could never resist you pleading so sweetly, looking up at him with those caring, loving eyes, holding a gaze so heavy with tenderness as he'd never experienced it before. Your hand reached out to him, and he flinched away for the split of a second, knowing your touch would be too much, would burn down all barriers and barricades he could flee behind to hide from your disarming kindness. When your hand cupped his face softly, he damn near shuddered under your hold, leaning into your touch and looking up at you with blazing eyes. “You're really gonna waste those pretty hands on fixing me up, huh?”

You let out a smile laugh, aghast at how he could be flirty even in the most grim of circumstances, with blood running down his face. Shaking your head, you got a hold of his hands and started to treat his bashed in knuckles. “I think these pretty hands are put to good use.”

Seeing his lips quirk up into a smirk, you knew what he was gonna say before he did, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “I think I know a way to put them to better use.”

“You are a menace onto the world, Mattheo,” you chuckled in disbelief and his smile only seemed to widen. Dropping his right hand, you reached for his left one and started dabbing a soothing creme onto his scabby knuckles, moving your index finger in small, careful circles over the wounds.

Mattheo leaned forwards slightly, seeking your gaze with his distracting enigmatic eyes. “Mmm, keep touching me like that and I might start purring.” You delivered a light push to his torso in a feeble attempt to free yourself from his distracting proximity, but your eyes widened in alarm when Mattheo failed to conceal the lightest of winces. Immediately, he attempted to distract you with another charming smile, but your nurse instincts knew greater obstacles.

“Take off your shirt,” you said firmly and gave him a short glare. To your surprise, he didn't quirk one flirty brow at you and no low teasing whistle made its way past his lips. Instead, he turned and held your steady gaze hostage as he slipped his hand from yours and worked on the buttons of his shirt. You felt almost burned by his chestnut eyes as his fingers escaped your sight and he shrugged off his white shirt in a singular motion.

When your eyes wandered down his torso, you felt your breath catch in your throat- but not in a good way. The bruises and fresh cuts were bad enough, but it was his scars that truly stunned you. They were spread all over his upper body, some faded and thin, others deep and jagged and alarmingly recent, craving stories you weren't sure you could handle knowing across his skin. Your fingers, trembling slightly, hovered over a particularly brutal mark near his ribs, but you couldn't bring yourself to touch it, afraid of hurting him, afraid of what it might mean.

Were those all a product of his fury fueled fighting? Many of the fresher scars didn't look like the consequence of a hallway brawl. They looked like remnants of cruel torture, the kind you'd only ever seen in your healing books about treating wounds inflicted by dark magic. How many times had he been hurt like this? And worse- how many times had no one been there to patch him up? The thought sent a dull ache through your chest, made your heart clench and sadness settle heavy in your stomach.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, but he wasn't smirking anymore. His expression was guarded, wary- like he was waiting for you to flinch back, pull away, see disgust settle upon your features. But all you could think of was how much pain had he been carrying alone? Without your consent, you felt your eyes well up with tears and averted them, pretending to study the more recent bruises. But the deep, brutal cuts stood out to you as if there was a stagelight upon them, and you felt a stubborn tear slip past your defenses and roll down your cheek.

Before you could brush it away and pretend it had never been there, you felt rough pads of fingers under your chin, guiding you to look at the one they belonged to. Mattheo's brows were scrunched together in what seemed like worry. It was an unusual look on his face, it somehow didn't seem to match his features, as if someone had pulled and arranged them into an awkward interpretation of care. But you knew better. You knew he wasn't used to showing any kind of emotion, much less worry, care or empathy. All of which would be considered a weakness, and Mattheo couldn't allow himself to be weak.

Mattheo Riddle was an animal because his life had been guided by a single driving force: staying alive, making it to the next day. Roughening up with each new hardship was an adaption, a natural evolution. Hardening was a necessary precaution, because care for anyone else would mean less care for himself, and he needed all he could get. You knew what a precarious line he walked, and how eager the world was to see him fall. Because you had been them, and you had been watching. Only now did you realize how much.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding almost insecure. Though you tried to keep it together, this show of vulnerability only added to the pile weighing in on your poor heart that belonged to him way too much already. You tried to smile, but another tear made its way past your lashes and down your cheeks and your breath trembled audibly.

“I'm just-,” you said, unsure how to properly wrap the emotions welling up in you up in a sensible string of words, how to explain. “I'm just so sad,” you finally managed to confess weakly, plainly, the words so flat you could have slapped yourself. “For you,” you clarified, when his brows twitched with irritation, the urge to rid you of anything that might be dissatisfactory to his princess. “For all the pain in your life. I wish you hadn't needed to go through it.” Your voice was a mere breath, a dying whisper on your tongue. Finally, your shaking fingers lay upon the largest scare with such care that he would barely be able to feel it. “I wish I'd been there with you.”

“No, you don't,” he said firmly. Something flashed in his eyes, almost like panic, like a deer in the headlights as he imagined you with him, within his fathers reach. But they hardened the split of a second after. “Hear me, princess? You don't.” You couldn't help yourself, you leaned into his touch and his hand seized your neck, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

For a long while that felt like an eternity and a second at once, he didn't speak, only looked at you. Your care had taken him off guard. You'd shed tears for him. Nobody had ever cared about him like you did, with an unconditional love like yours, with a kindness like yours. Nobody had ever shed tears for him. He should have felt bad that you were crying for him, especially when he himself would say some of these wounds were deserved. If not for his direct action, then for the crime of his existence. But he couldn't deny the feeling of stupid stupid relief at seeing you care so deeply.

Having calmed your tears, you wiped the last remnants from your cheeks and gave him an apologetic look. But before you could even open your lips to mutter an apology, his free hand seized one of your wrists and the intensity with which his eyes met yours made any attempt at speaking die on your tongue. Slowly, as if giving you the chance to pull away any second, he guided your hand towards him until it touched the skin of his shoulder, one of the more faded scars. It felt hot against your hand, even though you'd made sure to warm your hands up before treating him.

Still keeping your gaze hostage, Mattheo slowly moved your hand, moved it over his collar bone and down his chest, running over smaller and bigger scars, clean and brutal ones. He didn't blink once, only looking into your helpless eyes as he made you touch every single scar on his body. When he let go of your wrist, it fell limbly against your side and the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he crooked his head at you. “See? Now they’re beautiful.”

A shaky breath left your lips and hung in the air between you, like a question. He answered as he tilted his head slightly and reached out to you in a way that didn't need hands. When you lowered your lips onto his, they were still impossibly soft from the soothing effect of the serum. His moved gently against yours, missing the usual heat and settling for a tender caress. His hands settled on your thighs once more as he caught every shaky breath with his lips. You knew he was no man of words, a stranger to comfort, but he had the right instincts.

After a good minute, you parted and you directed your eyes at his body once more. You were still here to treat him, after all. So, you sat down on the bed beside him, made him turn and face you and started applying diptam to his bruises. Checking that no ribs were fractured, you ran your hands over his sides and could practically feel him swallowing down a provocative comment.

When you were finished, you pulled away from him and stored your flasks in your bag. As you looked back at him, you felt your heart skip a beat. The neutral healer’s eye had been replaced, you could no longer see Mattheo's body as just another body to be treated. He was undeniably, unfairly beautiful. The sharp cut of his collarbones, the taut muscles beneath scarred skin, the way his stomach tapered down in a way that made your stomach twist. Even battered and bruised, sitting on his bed beneath your healing hands, he carried himself with, it seemed, effortless strength. Every line of his body was shaped by a lifetime of fights, of survival.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, warmth creeping up your neck as your eyes traced the ridges of his abdomen, the way his chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his dark gaze flickering over you like he knew exactly what you were thinking. And maybe he did- because when you finally dragged your eyes back to his, that damn smirk was back, lazy and knowing, and Merlin help you, it only made him more infuriatingly attractive. You felt heat rise in your cheeks and averted your eyes, afraid they might linger and betray your hunger for him. But of course, nothing could escape Mattheo.

When you attempted to bring some distance between you and his irresistible smile and body, he rose from the bed and strolled towards you with slow, deliberate steps. Backing away, you felt like a mouse fleeing a hungry cat, until your back met wood and your breath got stuck in your throat- audibly. Mattheo's eyes widened with pleasure at the sound and his infuriating smirk only deepened as his attentive eyes caught the way your gaze fixed on anything but him. Fucking adorable.

You even leaned back your head against the wood as his arms came up to cage you in, making you look up at him with rosy cheeks and an abashed smile. “Uh,” you said, squirming under his intense gaze, and voice shaking for a whole other reason than distress. “Don't you want to put your shirt back on?”

Mattheo chuckled at your words, he seemed to find your sudden embarrassment very amusing. “Blushing, are we?” he asked, ignoring your suggestion and inching closer until there were only breaths between your still clothed chest and his bare one. You found yourself aching for him, aching for him to close the distance, because you could never, and you would never ask it. But Mattheo only made a “tsk” sound and shook his head in playful scolding, “and here I thought you were being professional.”

Any response died on your tongue when he leaned down and all you could see was him, all you could smell was him, all you could hear was him. Your senses were overwhelmed with him, him, him, as you did your very best not to sneak a look at his bare upper body. For some reason, Mattheod seemed to be able to sense your distress, though he made no attempt to ease it. Quite the contrary. Another chuckle left his lips, growing ever more dangerous. “Relax, princess, you can look. I don't bite, not unless you want me to.”

“I-” you managed to say before the look in his dark eyes sealed your lips just as effectively as a charm might have. He leaned in even further until his breath fanned your lips and you closed your eyes in unfulfilled expectation. “Fucking hell,” he murmured into the little space between you, “you're adorable when you try to pretend you're not flustered. Tell me princess-” Without a warning, he grabbed your wrist and brought your hand to his chest once more, this time running it over his abs. His devious eyes seemed to notice every reaction, every nervous flicker of your eyes. “Do you want to touch me?”

Not trusting your voice, you nodded and he cooed, running your hand up to his chest and down again. Again, that suffocating smirk. “I know you want to look at me,” he said, “wouldn't even need legilimency for that. Go on. I'm yours now, remember? You’re allowed to look, princess.” For a moment, you managed to keep up the act, but then, your eyes flickered down to his body and you felt yourself shiver with desire. God, he was beautiful.

Suddenly, his hands released your wrist and found their way to your waist, pulling you with him as he walked slowly over to his four-poster. You felt almost dizzy from looking into his eyes, as if they were black holes pulling you towards him with irresistible force. Your heart nearly leaped from your chest when a light push made you flop down onto his mattress and he followed suit, swallowing all forms of protest as his lips clashed into yours with fiery heat.

The kiss was demanding, it had the edge the previous one had missed. Mattheo kissed you as if he wanted to devour you whole, as if he wanted to claim your lips as his forever. His rough hands dug into the flesh of your waist and guided you slowly to lie on your back, exerting full control over you. Yet you'd rarely felt more content, experienced such a thrill as when one of his hands cupped your cheek and angled your jaw just right for his lips to wander down your neck and leave red marks in their wake. There was little Mattheo loved more than marking you up, molding your soft skin into a shape of his liking, sully it with marks of his claim on you.

When he reached the spot just below your ear, your breath hitched in your throat and Mattheo damn near groaned into your neck. Your smell overwhelmed him, the feeling of your soft skin on his, listing to your labored breathing and you. You laying in his bed, in his sheets. When he was satisfied with the mark he was working on, he forced himself to part from your neck, from your skin, to hover above you. Your lips were kiss-bitten and slightly swollen, fresh hickeys adorned your neck and writhed so sweetly in his bed. His. This was where you belonged, with him, and he with you.

Your breathing was uneven as you looked up at Mattheo, his dark eyes glinting dangerously as they raked down your clothed figure. A crease appeared between his brows as he lowered himself once more, but refusing to close the distance between the two of you. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt that had come untucked at some point and his voice was nearly a growl. “Think we should be equal, don't you, princess?” His voice was heaving just slightly, enough to make him maddeningly irresistible. “Why don't you take this off?”

Though thoroughly flustered by your current predicament, by the way his bare chest moved against yours and the pads of his fingers brushed experimentally over the exposed skin of your waist, you managed to give him a small smile. “Why don't you?”

Something changed behind the guarded curtains of his eyes, something shifted, like a beast awoken from slumber. Mattheo chuckled dryly against your lips when suddenly, a resounding rip reached your ears. You flinched when he literally tore your shirt off of you, buttons flying in every direction. Your gasp was muffled by his lips as they crashed into yours once more, chaotic and wild, as he worked on discarding what was left of your shirt. In dire need for air, you pulled away and pushed at his chest lightly. “Jesus, Mattheo, my shirt!”

“Be that damn cheeky again and I'll do the same to your skirt,” he said lowly before propping himself up just enough to get a proper view of your exposed upper body. His eyes were captured with fascination, unable to tear themselves away from the soft skin, the curve of your breasts and your damn white lace bra. Fuck, if you hadn't looked enough like an angel already. Unsuspectedly, he could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage, his fingers almost trembling as he ran them up the side of your belly, over the soft flesh, until they reached your bra. Shivering deliciously beneath his simple touch, you looked up at him with your doe eyes and he felt the conflicting desires to absolutely ruin you and impale himself on a stick for touching something so damn holy with his sullied hands.

Sitting up slightly, you seemed to misinterpret his lingering stare and crossed your arms over your chest. Immediately, his shot forward to seize your wrists and pin them above your head, unable to hide the hunger brimming behind his cold facade. “Fucking beautiful you are,” he said gruffly and reveled in the way your cheeks heated up, the soft tint of pink. His eyes were drawn to the hickies on your neck and Merlin did they look good on you.

Your chest was heaving under his intense gaze as he dipped his head down to kiss, nibble and mark all along your collarbone. “Take that off.” You complied immediately, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and discarding it somewhere to the side. “Won't someone- ah!” You let out the a high-pitched squeak when he bit down on the flesh just above your breasts and could hear him breathing in deeply. Determined, you tried again as his lips made their way down the valley of your breasts. “Won't someone come in?”

“No one who wants to keep their head,” he growled and you whimpered when he turned his attention to one of your tits. He let go of your wrists in favor of cupping the other and rubbing circles around your sensitive bud, making you stifle a soft mewl. “So, what about that skirt?” He pressed and your now free hands quickly made their way down, tugging at the waistband of your skirt. Impatient, one of his hands slapped yours away and pulled the skirt down your legs, along with your thights, leaving you with nothing more than your panties against the heated air of his dorm.

Mattheo buried his fingers in the soft flesh of your thighs and you could feel him against your thigh, feel his arousal. It was somewhat calming to know that he was just as effected as you, though he wasnt yet mewling helplessly. You felt his hot breath on your skin as his lips travelled down, down your belly, leaving a trail of unexpectedly soft kisses and whispering into your soft flesh as if in holy confession. “Merlin, you’re so fucking beautiful, can't believe it, cant wait to hear you scream my name-”

If you’d been blushing before, you definitely were now. Something hot seemed to pulsate in your cheeks as your heart fluttered with every word he spoke into your skin, spoken in the tone of a starving man praying for salvation.

Mattheo was in love with the little sounds you made as his lips made their way down your body, his fingers brushing over spots he knew would have your skin break out into goosebumps. Merlin, how he relished how responsive you were, how your soft, pliant body seemed to mold into his every touch and how your helpless little gasps and suppressed mewls sounded like music in his ears. He’d have you screaming for him in no time, have you screaming his name, and his heart raced in eager expectation.

But he had to take it slow with you. For one, he knew he was far more experienced than you were- when it came to the physical sense. But he’d never done it like this. With actual love behind it. The act of sex had always been about selfish pleasure on the one hand and power on the other. The power of someone else’s reactions, the satisfaction of knowing they despised him as they fell apart under his touch, that he’d be their dirty fucking secret but so powerless in that moment. There was no love behind it, just sex and power.

But now, he had to overthink. You were so perfect, so soft and gentle, so he had to try and be gentle with you, too- because you deserved it more than anyone. Mattheo was well aware that you deserved someone better than him, someone less tainted, less selfish, and better at loving you. But the heavens should strike him down if he couldnt give you the best time out of anyone in this damn castle. But it had to be perfect. It had to be just right.

As he reached your pubic bone and his deft fingers closed around the waistband of your underwear, you squirmed slightly and felt goosebumps spread all over your skin, in spite of how damn hot it was. “No no no, don’t run away from me now, princess,” he muttered against the skin of your pubic bone, and when you glanced down at him, you saw him look up at you with the utmost devotion and a carnal need that had you gasp lightly. Both his hands were on your thighs as he rested his chin on one of them and looked at your through his long dark lashes. The tension seemed to mount between the two of you, you realized he was waiting for something as heat crept up your neck.

Then, without any warning aside from a small twitch of his lips, he leaned down and blew a gust of air against your clothed core. A high-pitched yelp left your lips and he chuckled darkly, slowly pulling at the waistband of your panties. And even still, he was fixing you in place with those criminally seductive eyes of his. “What do you want me to do, princess?” he asked with raised brows and you swallowed thickly, chest heaving as you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. Your wide, pretty eyes almost had him folding for you, but he wanted to hear you say it. Wanted nothing more than for you to disregard your bashfulness, whatever means necessary.

But you found yourself unable to answer, not with the way his eyes bore into yours and you hoped he would read your desire in your mind, so you wouldn't have to say the words that felt so utterly filthy,you could never say it. Let alone the thought had your cheeks burn with shyness and you shook your head shakily, looking at him with pleading eyes. His teasing smile grew when suddenly, you felt his hand cup your clothed cunt, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. “Want me to eat you out like you deserve, princess?” he asked, smiling evily at your abashed whine, “Salazar, I bet you taste sweeter than sugar.”

“Mattheo,” you breathed, whether to spurr him on or to warn him you didn't know, but he cooed. “I know, princess, I know.” His hand drew away, but was soon replaced by his index finger drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your underwear. With a disgustingly smug look on his face, his eyes raked over your slightly trembling form as you practically shook in anticipation.

You looked so fucking sweet, barely holding it together, blushing and stuttering and he hadnt even properly touched you yet. Though he had planned your first time with him to be all about you, he could feel himself harden painfully as he burned to seek relief against the mattress. But if Mattheo could do one thing, it was to disregard his needs.

“Tell me, princess,” he drawled as he kept rubbing painfully slow circles, barely teasing your clit. Though you would never mentioned it, you’d heard from the other girls in your dorm how good he was in bed, you knew he was teasing you deliberately. “Anyone ever eaten you out before?” Hesitating for a split second, you shook your head and saw his brows twitch. He hummed lowly. “What fucking losers.”

You stifled a moan when he slipped his hand under your lace panties and grazed the rough pads of his fingers over your most sensitive spot. “There weren't a lot of them,” you almost whispered and his eyes snapped up at you. “A-actually just one, really.”

An almost mocking smile adorned his lips. “Really now? And how was it?” Somehow, he already knew the answer, you could see it in his eyes, the quirk of his brow, the edge of his smile. Whether it was legilimency or he had somehow read it off the curves off your body, you didnt knew. You only knew he’d derive great pleasure from hearing you say it.

“‘t was pretty short,” you managed to croak out and gasped when Mattheo’s fingers finally released you from his tortuous teasing and twirled around your clit in a way that had you mewl loudly. Embarrassed, you slapped your hand over your mouth, but his eyes hardened and he fucking pinched your clit, making you squeak in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“None of that, princess,” he muttered in a commanding tone, “I wanna hear you, if you want me to make you cum. You do want that, don’t you?” Bashfulness, paired with his diligently working fingers, made you whine pathetically and he smirked. “That’s what I thought. Be a good girl and take those hands off your mouth, yeah?” With shaking fingers, you did and he tutted softly. “Atta girl. Now lie down.”

In a twisted way, it went to his head, how quickly you let yourself sink into the mattress, how eagerly you obeyed his command, how much you trusted him with yourself. You could still afford to be trusting, he realized, other than him. But he would fucking make sure you’d never lose that. He’d never let the world wash away your kindness, he’d kill anyone who tried.

With an impatient grunt, he pulled your panties off and threw them somewhere to the side. A shudder went through him when he came face to face with your perfect cunt. Merlin, you were so damn soaked. Mattheo felt pride swell within him, so unlike the selfish satisfaction he'd gained from others' pleasure. Oh, how long he’d imagined this these past few weeks, having you all pliant and soft under him, making you fall apart on his tongue. But fuck did your sweet smell call out to him, so that he couldn't waste an time.

When his tongue came into contact with your clit, you squeaked in a mix of surprise and a sudden surge of pleasure, but Mattheo barely gavce you any time top adjust to the feeling. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason in the way he was practically delving into your soaked cunt, as if he meant to suffocate himself in it. His tongue leaped at your core, then sucked on your clit in a way that had you seeing stars and you moaned powerlessly as you became putty in his hands. Mattheo ate you out like a man starved, and every single on of your moans was like music to his ears. His tongue swirled around your clit and a high-pitched mewl fell from your lips, so addictive that he had to do it again, and again, and again-

Mattheo threw your legs over his shoulders to find a new angle and your hands shot down to bury themselves in his soft curls. You tried not to tug too hard, but when he licked one long stripe up your cunt, moaning so fucking filthily, you couldn't help but hold onto him as if he was your lifeline. And Merlin, how he loved it. Loved the way your fingers dug into his curls, loved the way you pulled at them in response to his ministrations, how he could feel your fingers quiver when his came down to your cunt to ease open your entrance.

When he slipped a first finger inside, you practically whimpered and Mattheo could’ve sworn he lost his sanity right then and there. He added another finger to your sweet little cunt and scissored them, pushed them in and out of your glistening folds, angled them upwards and unerringly hit the spot that had you break for him so fucking deliciously. What he didnt expect was for you to breathe a mewl of his name that went straight to his aching cock. Oh, you little minx.

He chuckled against your sensitive bud and your breath hitched in your throat. “Say it again,” he murmured against your folds as his fingers and tongue worked tirelessly to bring you to your high. “Say it, my name, say it.” You didn't even need his instructions, the repeated high-pitched moans of his name rolled off your tongue as if it were the only word you had ever known and, glancing down, you saw him grind his hips into the mattress. Your hips bucked against his face when the pleasure mounted up to new heights and he accelerated the speed of his tongue and fingers.

Allowing himself one look at you, he wished he could engrave the sight into his skull: you, shaking and blushing under his ministrations, whimpering helplessly and writhing in his sheets. His sheets, his girl, all his. Even his mind was growing hazy, but he willed himself to stay focused for you as you got closer to your high. You were on cloud nine, feeling only pure bliss and goddamn had everyone been right about him: Mattheo Riddle knew what he was doing. His deliberate movements overwhelmed your senses with unknown pleasure and your thighs started shaking, as did your fingers.

“‘M close,” you barely managed to breathe out, lips quivering with the intensity of the orgasm you felt building up in your core.

You weren’t sure if he’d heard you, buried between your thighs, but his fingers only picked up speed, his tongue flicked against your clit and with a guttoral moan, you fell apart on his tongue. You could almost see the gates of heaven as pleasure unlike any you’d experienced before wiped any and every thought from your head but him, him, him. Mattheo worked you through your high as you kept mewling his name as if in prayer. How ridiculous, someone as heavenly as you praying to someone as depraved as himself- and how utterly twisted it was that he enjoyed it so fucking much.

Even as you began trashing in his hold, he couldn't stop, couldn't have it be over, couldn't depart from your sweetness. “Mattheo, ‘s too much,” you whimpered, but he was like a man possessed, kept going as if he couldnt stop himself. “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, lapping up your juices, and you couldn't help yourself. As you felt a scream build up in your throat, you ripped your hands from his hair, earning a grunt of displeasure, and threw them over your mouth to muffle the loud cry. He stopped.

For a second, relief flooded over you, but then his face entered your field of vision as he hovered above you. His curls were as messy as you'd never seen them before, due to your restless hands, and your juices covered the better half of his face, making his lips glisten. His pupils were blown wide and a frown adorned his beautiful face, a frown that made you breath hitch and goosebumps spread all over your skin.

“Sorry,” you gasped, so short on breath as if you’d just run a marathon. “Sorry, Mattheo, I couldnt-”

His frown softened when he heard your voice quiver, looked into your pleading eyes. You were so fucking sweet, he’d never even think of punishing you. No, he only wanted to spoil you rotten, see the bliss in your eyes and hear his name on your tongue as he pushed you over the edge.

“‘S fine,” he sighed, wrapping an arm around your waist and lowering himself down to meet your lips. You seemed taken aback to taste yourself on his lips, making him smile into the kiss, but then, you opened your soft lips to allow his tongue access into your mouth and readily gave in to its push. Feeling his skin against yours, chest against chest, your tits pressed against his sternum and his sweat mingling with yours. It was so intimate you sighed into the kiss, which made him chuckle lowly.

Just then, you felt it. Something hard, clothed, dig into your thigh, and a trembling, daring hand of yours slipped between your intertwined bodies and grazed the tent in his pants. Mattheo let out a sharp hiss and his lips departed from yours to bite down on your ear lobe teasingly. “Well, aren’t you nice, always thimkin’ of me?”

You ignored his comment, sittin up a little to establish eye contact. Something was burning on your tongue, something you needed to ask before anything else happened between the two of you. Your heart beat nervously against your ribcage, but when you met his chestnut eyes, you felt all worry wash away in an instant. “What is it, princess?” Mattheo asked, crooking his head in a way that had his curls fall adorably into his eyes.

Before he could, you brushed them away softly and kept your hand on his cheek, as if to stabilize yourself. “I- I want to keep going.” God, your cheeks burned from just these words and he took notice with a light smile. Mattheo made no attempts to interrupt you as you searched for the right words in your head, arranged them in order, just to discard them. You weren’t good at this, he was, he could just talk about this kind of thing without turning into a blushing mess.

“Mattheo?”

“Hm?” he made expectantly as one hand of his started rubbing slow circles on your hip. “I-” you broke off and wet your suddenly dry lips with your tongue. God, this was so embarrassing you wanted to crawl in a hole and die. “I’ve heard from others about- well-,” you stuttered hesitantly and Mattheo, slowly piecing it together, grinned teasingly, only worsening your embarrassment. With a shaky breath, you dared to meet his eye and decided just to get it over with. “Would you mind not being as- as rough on our first time? I mean, now? It’s not that I don’t- I mean, I just-,” you rambled but he placed a quick peck on your lips, effectively shutting you up.

His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, more open than you’d ever seen them, more vulnerable, more loving. “Hey, hey, princess. We do it exactly the way you want, the way you enjoy, alright?” he said, still drawing soothing circles on your skin.

But you frowned lightly, brows drawing together. “But that’s not right,” you protested, “what about you?”

For the split of a second, Mattheo was startled, simply because he didn't remember ever being asked this question by anyone. But of course you would. You, with the kind smile and the soft hands and the warm look in your eyes. You, who never failed to think of him even when he really didn't want you to. But who was he kidding, it felt fucking amazing to know how much you cared about him.

“I’m getting my fair share of pleasure either way,” he smirked against your lips, playfully pinching the skin of your hip. You nodded slightly, your hand shakily resting upon his clothed cock once more and he covered the shaky breath that left his lips with a growled chuckle. “Careful there, princess,” he teased, head dipping down to trail kisses up your jaw, “You’re playing with fire.”

Nothing could have prepared him for the next words that left your mouth as you brought your other hand to his chin to make him look at you. “Then maybe I want to burn with you.”

Something seemed to snap within Mattheo and he surged forward, stealing the breath out of your lungs as he cradled your face and kissed you with such force you fell back into the sheets. Your chest heaved against his as you brought your hands to his hair and he groaned into the kis, biting down on your bottom lip. “We don’t have to do it tonight,” he managed to rasp against your lips, summoning his last remnants of morality that kept him from ruininmg you right here, right now, and drinking up every single sound of pleasure you made.

“I want to, Mattheo,” you whimpered as his hand found your clit once more, rubbing slow circles over the oversensitive bud. “I want you.”

“Fucking hell, primcess,” he straight up moaned and your breath hitched when he ground his clothed erection against your bare core. But you didn't let up, bucking your hips up to meet his and mewling when the fabric of his trousers rubbed over your clit so deliciously.

“Please,” you breathed against the shell of his ear when he started sucking on the already blooming hickeys on your neck again. “Please, Mattheo, I need you.”

Holy hell, your pleading shot straight to his cock. Your slightly whiny tone, the begging. Please. Please. You repeated it and Mattheo wished he could hear you say it forever. He fucking loved hearing you beg, loved the way your breath hitched in your throat when he bucked his hips into yours and your fingers tightened in his curls. His impatient fingers fumbled with his belt, tugged at the zipper of his pants until he was able to discard them to some corner of the room he didnt care to know. Because all there was now was you. Your breathing, your little moans, your squirming figure beneath his and your god damn pleas that had him weak in the knees. And, of course, the feeble but of fabric still separating you from him.

Pulling his boxers down as quickly as possible without departing from your neck, he finally managed to get them off and his cock, an angry red and already leaking precum, slapped against his abdomen with a filthy sound. When you felt his erection rub over your core, no fabric seperating you anymore, you bit down on Mattheo’s shoulder to stifle a mewl and dug your fingers into his biceps. His lips departed from your neck as he hovered above you, his curls framing his face like a halo. God, how you loved that man.

Your eyes were locked with his as his cockhead kissed your clit and you let out a high-pitched gasp, giving him a needy look. But Mattheo’s usual teasing manner had been replaced by an almost somber look in his eyes, as if he wanted to savor every second of this. He didnt have to ask if you were ready, you only nodded and he pushed in the first few inches.

Mattheo moaned loudly, unabashedly, and you tightened your grip on his bicep at the uncomfortable stretch. God, he was big, bigger than the one you’d had before, and anxiety curled in your stomach that you wouldnt be able to fit him inside. But Mattheos seemed to sense your worry as his breath shuddered over your face and he pecked your temple. “Relax,” he cooed, whispering praises into your ear that had you tremble and blush helplessly.

He didnt move, and it seemed to cost him a great deal of willpower, but as his tip pressed into your entrance and you breathed in and out through your mouth, you slowly managed to adjust as the sting turned into a comfortable stretch. With a little nod, you signaled him to go further and he pushed in another few inches, straight up whimpering into your ear. The sound made you clench and his fingers tightened around your waist. “fuck, princess, you trying to kill me?”

You shook your head and buried your face in his shoulder, trying to relax to make him fit. Mattheo cooed at your determination, rubbing lazy circles on your clit to ease you in. “M’gonna make you feel so good, princess, promise.”

Finally, with a lot of patience and willpower, Mattheo managed to bottom out and both of you struggled for air. His hands wandered down to your hips as he chuckled against your ear. “Such a good girl, taking me like a champ, arent ya?” All you could do was whimper in response, you felt so damn full, could almost feel him in your stomach. But the uncomfortable stretch became more enjoyable by the second and you let out a shaky breath against his skin.

“M- mattheo,” you croaked out pathetically and he cooed once more, breathing in the scent of your hair. “Feel so full,” you almost slurred, as if your mind had gone permanently blank, and you could feel him chuckle darkly into your hair.

“Do you now, princess?”

You nodded and his grin persistet as he started to rock his hips against yours. He pulled out and slammed back in, eliciting a loud moan from you, and reveled in the way your face scrunched up with pleasure. Your fingers shakily tried to grasp anything, his biceps, the sheets, any sort of halt, as he repeated the movement and you mewled helplessly. Mattheo burned to pick up the pace, ram into you with all his might, claim you like the animal he was, but he forced himself to discipline and established a slow pace to help you adjust.

Hiding your face in his shoulder, soft moans of his name slipped past your lips that made it impossibly harder to keep up the slow pace, but for nothing in the world would he stop now. He couldn't. His cock fitted so perfectly into your warmth, your little moans rung in his ears like a heavenly symphony. This was truly heaven, had to be. Especially when he looked down on you to see your fucked-ut expression, the crown of your hair around your face. He’d been wrong. You weren't an angel. You were a fucking goddess.

Without him even realizing, he’d picked up the pace and your fingers dug into his shoulder. “M- mattheo,” you whimpered and he had to stop himself from mercilessly ramming into your perfect cunt. Instead, he let his head fall to your neck and bit down. The cry it elicited from you made him shiver and moan in response, as his teeth dug into your soft flesh in search of some sort of support. He knew it would be the most prominent mark of all, and he relished the thought of you walking around with it, cheeks heating when someone asked about it. Damn right, they’d know, know you were his.

As if you’d heard his thoughts, your shaky little voice rasped into his ear: “Yours, I’m yours.”

Had he said it out loud? He couldnt tell anymore as any and all resolve crumbled and he rammed into you, all the while craessing your soft body with his rough hands. “Fucking right,” he spat against your lips - when had you come this close? - “You’re mine.”

Nodding helplessly, you seemed to be at a loss for words, or maybe too fucked out to string a single sentence together. The thought made him chuckle amd you whined. When you squirmed, he held your hips down, desperately stopping himself from cumming before you. As he felt his own high approaching, his fingerds slipped back down to your clit to draw hurried circles on it. “You’re mine to worship, mine to protect-” He pistoned in and out of you and each push was met with soft little “ah”s from you as you threw your head back and exposed your neck to him, your neck that was covered in his hickeys and he moaned uncontrollably.

“I’ll kill ‘em all,” he rasped against your lips as you tightened around him and the pleasure seemed to pierce through you like arrows, blinding you as you squeezed your eyes shut and cried out his name. “Damn right,” he murmured and you werent even sure what you’d said anymore, only holding onto him as you release cam crushing down on you. “I’ll kill anyone who’ll ever hurt you, nobody touches my girl.” You were pretty sure that he, too, was merely rambling right now as his hips bucked against yours uncontrollably, having lost all steadyness or rhythm.

As the world slowly took form again around you, as you came down from your high, you could practically feel him pulse inside you and crashed your lips onto his. He kissed you back like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Between kisses, you managed to catch fragments of drunken ramblings, until you realized it was a singular phrase, repeated agin and again, breaking off and whispered repeatedly against your lips, in a way that had you wondering whether he himself knew he was speaking.

“I love you.”

Your hand closed around his as he pulled out in a rapid motion and you could feel him release his cum all over your quivering thighs. For a few seconds, there was nothing but your breathing, the soft heaving of your bare chests against each other, the desperate attempt to refill your lungs with air. Then, Mattheo rolled off of you and sank into the sheets next to you. His strong arms came to wrap themselves around your waist as he pulled you towards him. One hand found its way to your neck where he tilted your head just right to softly peck your lips, and again, and again, but giving you room to breathe.

This was new territory, but it felt almost natural to trace soft lines down your sides, card his fingers through your hair and swallow up your little sighs. Mattheo was a stranger to aftercare, as to so many things you had taught him, beginning with airplanes and ending with unconditional love. He’d almost feared this moment, but the tenderness seemed instinctive with you as he grabbed the towel you’d used earlier for his wounds, cleaned it with a bit of wandless magic and ran it over your oversensitive core.

Exhausted, you rested your head against his chest and your hand on the prominent scar on his abdomen. Finally, you dared ask. “What happened there, Mattheo?”

His lips came to softly caress your temple and one of his hands rubbed soothingly along the curve of your hip. “Nothing you’ve gotta worry about.”

“Yes, it is,” you said, but your tone suggested that you would not insist upon hearing the story tonight. “It’s you, and I worry about you, because-” you hesitated for just a moment before opening your eyes and looking up at him. “Because I love you too.”

Mattheo couldn’t answer, any ability to form words seemed to have left him as he stared into your wide, trusting eyes. Again, he felt that if there was a time to die, it was now, with you. But there was another voice too. You loved him. You cared for him. And he had sworn to you that nobody could ever hurt you again. So he had to stay, for you. He wished he could have expressed in this moment how much he appreciated you, how much he loved you, how he’d never thought he could love anyone, given his parents- how could someone coing from pure evil carry anything good inside him? But he did, you’d proved him wrong and he’d never stop being thankful for it. Even better, when you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, he knew you understood, even without his words that would never manage to express his true feelings.

“I hope we find those clothes all again,” you said in a lighter tone, and Mattheo was thankful for it. “Not that Malfoy finds my bra or something.”

Your nose wrinkled in disgust and he laughed quietly, rubbing his nose against your temple affectionately. “Don’t you worry, they’ll know what we did anyway. Don’t think anyone could’ve missed those screams of yours, princess.”

Instead of blushing or looking alarmed, Mattheo was surprised to find you smiling sheepishly. “About that… I think I’ll have to disappoint you.” Biting down on your lower lip, you glanced at the door. “I might have put a muffliato charm on your dorm.”

“No,” Mattheo said disbelievingly, pinching a roll of your stomach and making you squeak. But he knew you weren’t lying. “When’d you do that?”

Now, there was the slightest tint of pink on your cheeks as you shrugged. “When you sent the others out. I thought… just in case…”

“fucking genuis, my girl,” he muttered into your hair and couldn't find it within himself to be irritated at you. “And here i was thinking the whole of the dungeons had heard what a good time you had tonight. No matter,” he smirked, looking back at you and examining the work he’d done on your neck and throat. “You still have the hickeys to show tomorrow.” Mattheo would gladly admit that he took pleasure in the way your eyes widened and you scrambled up in search of a mirror.

When you swung your legs over the bed to stand, however, they wobbled so hard you plopped right back down onto the mattress. Your thighs were still quivering with the last aftershocks and felt about as stable as cooked spaghetti. You glared at him when he laughed and pointed your finger at his face. “This is your fault.”

“Indeed it is,” he admitted and sat up as well, patting your bare hip. “‘m sure you’ll manage though.”

You gaped at him in indignation. “You’re not gonna help me?” When he grinned at you, you groaned, exasperated, and rose to your feet hesitantly, wobbling carefully over to the bathroom.

“‘M gonna pick your clothes up,” he said, getting to his feet as well and grabbing a pair of sweatpants to pull on. “Not that Malfoy actually finds your bra, I’d hate to have to explain to his mother why I gauged his eyes out.”

“You’re deranged!” he heard you call from the bathroom, but he could detect the smile in your voice. When you reemerged, he let his eyes run over your bare form, satisfied with his work.

You cleared your throat. “Can I have my clothes back?��

“No need,” he shrugged, storing the heap of clothes that belonged to yours in one of his drawers. “You can borrow one of my shirts.” When he caught your confused expression, he raised his brows at you. “What, you think I’m gonna let you walk back to Gryffindor Tower past curfew in your condition? You’re sleeping here tonight.”

“And your friends?” you asked hesitantly, and he flashed you a grin that could be mean no good. “Will keep their eyes to themselves if they like them.”

Once you’d pulled his shirt over your head, you slipped under the covers and Mattheo placed a soft kiss on your temple before leaving the room to notify his friends that they were allowed in again. You could still hear your heart beating in your ears amd had to suppress a squeal when the realization of what you’d just done hit you. In order to seem like a well adjusted person, you buried your head in Mattheo’s pillow and breathed in his scent. It was almost like having him here again, and you considered asking him whether you could switch pillows in the future.

But that was talk for tomorrow. How you’d get to class was talk for tomorrow. How the fuck you’d cover up the battlefield Mattheo had left on your neck was a talk for tomorrow.

After a few minutes, you heard several footsteps outside and looked up from Mattheo’s pillow. He was the one to push the door open, and his eyes softened considerably when he saw you laying in his bed, under his sheets. Behind him, the other boys trailed in, all of whom, you noticed, were purposefully avoiding to look at you directly. Malfoy seemed to be pissed about something, and you didn't have to wonder what, and Lorenzo smiled at you again, only to raise his hands in surrender when Mattheo sent him a withering glare.

Turning back to you, a smile tugged at his lips and once more, you were taken aback by his quick mood changes. Without another word, he slipped in beside you, turning his back on the room to hide you from sight and wrapped his arms around you. His breathing was calm against your ear as his chest rose and fell against your back and his smell engulfed you whole. You found yourself relaxing completely in his arms, all tension leaving your body as you leaned into him and he pressed another kiss to your temple.

“Sleep, princess,” he murmured against your skin and you nodded, resting your head against him, clasping his hand around your belly with your own and letting sleep consume you, knowing you were the safest in his arms.

a/n: thank you all so much for sticking around till the end and going on this ride with me, I hope you liked it! 🫶

taglist: @aespaslut @kricketwritesstories @catching-fire-in-the-wind @a-little-funny @thejediprincess56 @polireader @voidangxls @artsyle @nkvgt @ashrocker123 @chimchoom @onlytenkos @yvonne-dump @alwayslatetothefandoms @ravisinghs-wife @eneywey @viylikecats @darksss5516 @cocosparkel @stereading @helendeath @workof-a-rr-t @k0z3me @nottriddlethis @urfavetheaterkid16

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo fluff #mattheo smut #mattheo imagine #mattheo angst #mattheo riddle series

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elikajinnie · 4 months ago

Text

Was I Just A Bet? - P.J

P: Gryffindor!Jay X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization.

Synopsis: At Hogwarts, you built a reputation for rejecting every romantic advance. Jay, a popular Gryffindor, asks you out on a dare.

masterlist

Ever since you were a child, you watched people fall in love—the way their eyes lit up around each other, the way they cared deeply, selflessly, doing anything to make the other happy. It was something you had always longed to feel for yourself. You wanted to experience love, to be someone's first thought in the morning and last before they drifted off to sleep. But as you grew older, no one ever stirred that feeling in you. You waited, hoped, but there was never anyone who made you feel truly seen, let alone loved. And with each passing year, the frustration built.

Eventually, you had enough.

You decided to renounce love, at least from any guy. "It’ll be better this way," you told yourself, over and over again, a mantra each time you passed a couple in the streets or saw friends paired off, hand in hand. Love wasn’t for you, and that was fine. There were other things to focus on, more important things.

Then, the day your Hogwarts acceptance letter arrived, you had allowed yourself to hope. Maybe here, in this world of magic, you could find your place. You could study, make a few friends, and graduate without the complications of love, without boys breaking your heart. It seemed like a simple enough plan.

But life had other plans for you.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

During your first few years at Hogwarts, you built yourself a reputation without even meaning to. Word spread quickly that you were untouchable when it came to romance. Your focus was on magic, your friends, and your studies—nothing else. You rejected every boy who tried to ask you out, and there were more than a few. Some asked you shyly, others with confidence, but your answer was always the same.

“No, I’m not interested.”

At first, your friends teased you about it, telling you to loosen up, to have some fun. But they didn’t understand. You weren’t interested in getting hurt, in wasting time on something that, in your eyes, had become trivial. You had seen enough of your classmates go through the highs and lows of relationships, and none of it appealed to you.

The rejections continued throughout your years. Some boys were persistent, believing they could be the one to change your mind.

They weren’t. Over time, people began to accept it. The offers stopped coming, and with them, the whispers about who might try next.

Your reputation solidified. You were the girl who didn’t date. The girl who couldn’t be won over. To some, that made you a mystery, an unattainable challenge. To others, it made you intimidating. Either way, it didn’t bother you. In fact, it gave you the freedom you’d always wanted. No more awkward conversations, no more rejecting people’s advances. You could focus on what really mattered: honing your magic, learning every spell and potion with a precision that set you apart.

But even as the castle echoed with rumors of your romantic disinterest, you couldn’t escape the moments that gnawed at the edges of your resolve. The fleeting glances in the Great Hall, the flutter in your chest when someone smiled at you just the right way—moments you forced yourself to bury.

By fifth year, no one bothered asking you out anymore.

And yet, despite the peace that should have brought, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. That even though you’d built this wall around yourself, there was a part of you that wondered what it would be like to let someone in.

It crept in late at night when the castle was quiet, and the fire in the common room flickered softly in the hearth. You’d sit by the window, watching the stars, your friends laughing in the background, and you’d wonder. Wonder what it would feel like to hold someone’s hand, to have someone look at you like you were their whole world, to be vulnerable with someone and not feel like you were losing control.

You always pushed the thoughts away, focusing on your studies or your friends, but the feeling lingered like a shadow. The life you'd crafted for yourself was solid, predictable, but there were cracks. You could feel them. And with every passing day, that nagging voice in the back of your mind grew louder, asking the same question over and over again:

What if you were wrong?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You were sitting in the Great Hall, laughing with your friends about something silly that happened in class earlier. The chatter of students filled the air, the clinking of cutlery and the low hum of conversation creating the familiar buzz of Hogwarts. You were completely unaware of the conversation taking place just a few seats down, a group of Gryffindor boys exchanging glances in hushed tones.

"I don't know what to do anymore, man. She won't go out with me," one of them, named Lucas, muttered in frustration, poking at his plate. His friends looked at him with a mix of amusement and pity.

"Maybe she just ain't interested," another, Kieran, said with a shrug, clearly stating the obvious.

"Nah, that's impossible. Who wouldn’t date me?" Lucas scoffed, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

"Many people," a quieter voice added dryly, smirking. "Like her." He discreetly pointed in your direction.

You were oblivious, too caught up in the banter with your friends, smiling as you dipped a piece of toast into your soup. But the boys had their attention on you now, casting brief glances toward your end of the table.

“Bet she’ll date by the end of this year,” Kieran said suddenly, breaking the tension.

The others turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What?”

“I’m just saying," he continued. "No one stays single forever. Bet someone could get her to go out by the end of this year."

A third boy, Jungwon, shook his head firmly. “Guys, no. We’re not doing anything stupid. You know what they say about messing with people like that.”

"Yeah, don't be thick. We’re not pulling some sort of prank on her,” Kieran replied saracastically, though his eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief.

But Lucas, still stuck on his own bruised ego, leaned back in his seat and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, but let’s be real. Which of us would she even accept?”

There was a pause, and the group collectively turned thoughtful. No one spoke for a beat, as if they were sizing each other up. Then one of them muttered under his breath, almost as if he didn’t mean for anyone to hear: “Jay?”

All of their heads turned in unison to look at Jay, a quiet but undeniably popular Gryffindor, who was currently sitting across from them, completely absorbed in his meal. He had been oblivious to their entire conversation, minding his own business as he ate.

Jay had always been different from the others. Where the rest were loud and reckless, he was calm and thoughtful, the kind of person who didn’t seek attention but always managed to get it anyway. His sharp features and easy smile didn’t hurt either, making him someone who easily caught people’s eye, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

Kieran nudged Lucas. “You think he’d have a chance?”

“Maybe,” Lucas said, leaning forward. “He’s the only one who hasn’t tried.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “Because Jay isn’t stupid. He’s not going to go along with this.”

Before any of them could say more, Jay finally noticed the attention. He looked up from his plate, fork still in hand. “What?” he asked, sounding more curious than annoyed.

The others exchanged glances, unsure how to even start explaining what they had been discussing. Kieran, never one to shy away from a challenge, decided to go for it.

“We were just… talking about how you’re probably the only one who could get her to go out with someone,” he said, jerking his head toward your end of the table.

Jay followed the gesture, his eyes landing on you for the briefest moment before flicking back to his friends. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said flatly, turning back to his food.

Lucas leaned in, lowering his voice. “No, seriously. She’s turned down everyone. But you’re different. I bet you could—”

“Stop right there,” Jay interrupted, his tone now clearly annoyed. He put down his fork, his usually calm expression replaced with a frown. “You guys need to stop treating her like some kind of prize to be won. She’s not interested, end of story.”

The group fell silent, awkwardness settling between them. Even Jungwon seemed to agree with Jay’s sentiment, nodding slightly.

But Kieran, never one to back down easily, leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly. “What if she was interested in you though? Would you give it a shot?”

Jay hesitated for the briefest moment, his eyes flicking back to you once more. But instead of answering, he grabbed his bag and stood up. “I’ve got better things to do than play these kinds of games,” he said, and with that, he walked away, leaving his friends to stew in their own thoughts.

Unbeknownst to you, a ripple of tension had settled between the boys. But Jay’s words stuck with them, even after he’d left.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The boys didn’t let it go.

The next few days, every chance they got, they found a way to bring you up in conversation with Jay. It was subtle at first—side comments, casual jokes—but when Jay continued to ignore them, they ramped it up.

"Come on, Jay, just ask her," Lucas said one afternoon while they were lounging in the common room. He had a tone of desperation in his voice, like this whole thing was his last shot at redeeming his bruised ego.

Jay barely glanced up from the book he was reading. "I told you, I'm not interested. Find someone else to mess with."

"She’s not gonna say yes to any of us," Kieran added, flopping onto the couch across from Jay. "But you? You've got a chance, man."

Jay sighed, snapping the book shut and fixing them with an exasperated look. "I’m not asking her out for you guys. What are you even trying to prove?"

The group exchanged glances. There was a beat of silence before Lucas blurted out, "Okay, fine. We made a bet. Happy now?"

Jay raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "A bet."

"Yeah," Kieran continued. "That someone could get her to go out with them by the end of the year. And look, if you do this, we’ll—" He paused, clearly trying to think of an enticing offer. "We’ll do anything. Name it, and it’s yours."

"Anything?" Jay asked, skeptical.

"Anything," Lucas confirmed quickly, leaning forward. "You want help with Quidditch practice? Done. Extra study notes for exams? You got it. Just name it."

Jay leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching them with growing amusement. "And what do you get out of it, besides winning a stupid bet?"

Kieran smirked. "Bragging rights, mostly. And maybe the satisfaction of knowing we finally figured out what she wants."

Lucas nodded. "And we’ll stop bugging you about it."

Jay let out a short laugh. "This is ridiculous. You realize that, right?"

Jungwon, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, finally chimed in. "It’s not like we’re asking you to date her. Just ask her out once, see what happens. You don’t even have to mean it. We just—" He shrugged. "We want to see if she’ll say yes to anyone."

Jay's expression shifted, his initial irritation fading as he considered their offer. There was no denying it—he could get almost anything he wanted out of this. And truthfully, he was curious. He’d never thought about you in that way, but the way the others talked about you, with that mix of fascination and frustration, made him wonder. You were untouchable to them, this mystery they couldn’t figure out. And as much as he hated the idea of using someone to win a bet, part of him was intrigued by the challenge.

"Anything, huh?" Jay repeated, making them all sit up a little straighter.

"Anything," Lucas echoed eagerly.

Jay was quiet for a moment, then finally, with a resigned sigh, he nodded. "Fine. But I’m not doing this for your bet. You guys owe me—big time."

Lucas grinned, slapping Kieran on the back. "Done. Whatever you want, mate."

Jay rolled his eyes, already regretting his decision. He wasn’t one to play games like this, but if getting them off his back meant asking you out once, it couldn’t be that bad, right? He just had to approach you, see what happened, and that would be the end of it. Simple.

But something about it felt anything but simple. You weren’t just some random girl, after all. You were smart, independent, and completely uninterested in dating. You had turned down every guy who had approached you, without even a second thought. And while the others were too focused on their bruised egos to see it, Jay could sense that there was more to your refusal than what met the eye.

As the group dispersed, leaving Jay alone with his thoughts, he found himself wondering—if he did ask you out, how would you respond? Would you see right through him, knowing it wasn’t genuine? Or would you surprise everyone, including him?

One way or another, he was about to find out.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The days following their agreement were relentless. The boys wouldn’t let up, bugging Jay every chance they got about asking you out. Every time they passed him in the hall or caught him during meals, they’d throw out some comment about “the bet” or nudge him about “getting it over with.”

“You haven’t done it yet, right?” Lucas would say, leaning in with that expectant smirk.

“C’mon, it’s not that hard. Just ask her,” Kieran would add, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Jay did his best to brush them off, but eventually, it became clear that they wouldn’t stop until he went through with it. He wasn’t sure why he was so hesitant. Maybe it was the way they were treating it like a game, or maybe it was because you were different from the others they’d approached before. But either way, Jay knew he had to get it over with.

Then, one afternoon, the golden moment came. You were sitting by yourself in the courtyard, your bag leaning against the stone wall as you flipped through a book, your focus entirely on whatever you were reading. Jay, spotting his chance, took a deep breath and walked toward you, trying to push aside the strange nerves building in his chest. He wasn’t usually nervous around people, least of all girls, but something about this felt different. Maybe it was because he knew you wouldn’t be easily impressed. Maybe it was because, despite his intentions, he was genuinely curious about what you’d say.

As he approached, you looked up, your gaze meeting his. He saw a flicker of surprise cross your face, probably because you weren’t used to him talking to you. For a brief moment, Jay hesitated, but then he forced himself to speak.

“Hey,” he said casually, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You raised an eyebrow. “Hey.”

He could feel the weight of your stare, sizing him up in that same quiet, thoughtful way you always had. Jay wasn’t like the others who had come to you with grand gestures or awkward flattery. He didn’t try to impress you with rehearsed lines. Instead, he simply looked at you and said, “I know this is probably not your thing, but I was wondering if you’d want to go out sometime. Just… I don’t know, grab a butterbeer or something?”

For a moment, you didn’t respond. You just looked at him, your gaze steady, but Jay could tell you were actually thinking about it. You didn’t reject him immediately like you had with the others. There was something in the way your eyes flickered over him—taking in his composed, relaxed posture, the sincerity in his voice. It caught you off guard, maybe because he hadn’t come across as desperate or pushy. He was just… asking.

But eventually, after what felt like an eternity, you shook your head softly, a small, almost apologetic smile on your lips. “Sorry, Jay. I don’t really do the whole dating thing.”

Jay wasn’t surprised, but something in the way you said it made him feel like it wasn’t as easy for you to reject him as it had been with the others. There was a pause, and then you added, “But… thanks for asking.”

He shrugged, offering a half-smile. “No worries. Figured I’d give it a shot.”

And with that, he walked away, no drama, no hard feelings. He didn’t seem upset, just accepting. But as he left, you found yourself watching him go, your thoughts lingering on him longer than you expected. Jay was different from the others. He hadn’t made you feel pressured or uncomfortable. And while you had rejected him, part of you wondered if it might have been a mistake. You watched him until he disappeared from sight, a thoughtful look crossing your face.

When Jay finally returned to his friends, Lucas and Kieran were waiting, their eyes lighting up with anticipation. “Well?” Lucas asked, leaning forward. “How’d it go?”

Jay shrugged, sitting down on the bench beside them. “She said no.”

“That’s it?” Kieran frowned, like he couldn’t believe it was that simple. “You just walked away?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Jay shot back, his voice calm but firm. “I asked, she answered. End of story.”

But his friends weren’t satisfied with that. Over the next few days, they kept at him, pushing him to try again. “Come on, Jay. You can’t just give up like that,” Lucas would say. “You’ve gotta try harder. She didn’t outright reject you, right? There’s a chance.”

Kieran would join in too, nudging Jay with a grin. “Maybe she’s just playing hard to get. One more try, and I bet she’ll say yes.”

Jay, however, had had enough. He shook his head every time, rejecting their ideas. “I did what I promised,” he said firmly. “I’m not doing it again. It’s done.”

But something had changed. Even though Jay refused to entertain their pestering, he couldn’t help but keep an eye on you more than before. He didn’t know why, but he found himself watching you when you were in the common room or when you passed by in the halls. He wasn’t interested in winning any stupid bet anymore, but there was something about you that had stuck with him.

You were different from what he had expected—stronger, more thoughtful. And now, every time he saw you, he couldn’t help but wonder what was really going on behind those quiet, steady eyes.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

It happened so quickly that you barely had time to process it. One minute you were walking down the corridor, minding your own business, and the next thing you knew, a strong gust of wind rushed behind you, practically shoving you into an empty classroom. The door slammed shut behind you with an unsettling finality.

You spun around, eyes wide, reaching for the handle, only to find it locked tight. Panic briefly flared in your chest, and you tried again, jiggling the handle harder this time. It wouldn’t budge.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, giving the door one last shove before finally stepping back. That was when you noticed you weren’t alone.

Jay stood at the other end of the room, frozen in place, staring at you with wide eyes. He looked just as surprised as you were, a book in his hand and several parchment scrolls spread out across a desk near him. It was clear he hadn’t expected this any more than you had.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, still trying to wrap your head around the situation.

“I—uh—was just helping Professor Flitwick with some charms work,” Jay stammered, glancing around the room as if trying to figure out how you’d both ended up in this position. His brows furrowed, and he took a few cautious steps toward the door. “Did someone lock us in?”

You crossed your arms, sighing. “It feels like it.”

Jay tried the door, tugging at the handle with just as much frustration as you had, but it didn’t budge. After a minute, he gave up, turning to look at you with a resigned expression. “I guess we’re stuck.”

There was a beat of silence as the reality of the situation set in. There was no getting out anytime soon, and the room was completely empty except for the two of you. With a sigh, you walked over to one of the desks and sat down, resting your arms on the surface. Jay hesitated for a moment before following suit, taking the seat across from you.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was filled with silence, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the castle’s distant creaks and murmurs. Jay shifted awkwardly in his seat, glancing at you occasionally, while you stared at the desk, trying to figure out how to handle this.

Then, after what felt like forever, Jay cleared his throat. “So… this is awkward.”

You snorted despite yourself, glancing up at him. “Yeah, you could say that.”

There was a brief pause, and then Jay spoke again, more softly this time. “Look, I didn’t ask for this, and I’m guessing you didn’t either. But since we’re stuck here… maybe we could just talk?”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to humor him. But something in Jay’s expression—his genuine attempt to break the tension—made you decide to give it a shot. After all, it wasn’t like you had anything better to do.

“Alright,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “What do you want to talk about?”

Jay smiled, relieved, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a spark of warmth behind his usual laid-back demeanor. “Honestly, anything. You know, I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked before. Like, really talked.”

You shrugged, giving him a slight smile. “Not much of a talker, I guess.”

Jay chuckled, nodding. “Fair enough. But I’m curious. You’re always so put together, like nothing rattles you. How do you manage that? Doesn’t anything ever get to you?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. No one had ever really asked you that before. And certainly not with the kind of sincerity Jay was showing now. For a moment, you considered giving a vague, dismissive answer, but something about the quiet intimacy of the room made you feel like it was okay to let your guard down, just a little.

“I guess… I’ve learned not to let things get to me,” you said slowly. “People expect a lot, you know? So, I just stopped caring what they thought.”

Jay nodded thoughtfully, leaning his elbows on the desk as he listened. “That makes sense. But it’s gotta be exhausting sometimes, right? Keeping that wall up.”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “Yeah… sometimes.”

You were quiet for a while after that, but the tension had eased. Jay wasn’t trying to pry, and you appreciated that. The conversation shifted into lighter topics, and soon enough, you found yourself laughing at one of Jay’s stories about a disastrous Quidditch practice that had gone hilariously wrong. It was easy, natural. He wasn’t trying to impress you; he was just… being himself. And you realized, much to your surprise, that you actually enjoyed talking to him.

The laughter died down, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. Jay leaned back in his chair, a soft smile still lingering on his lips. And then, without warning, he looked at you with a seriousness that hadn’t been there before.

“You know, I wasn’t going to bring this up again,” Jay began, his voice quiet, “but since we’re stuck here, and you don’t seem to hate me…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before meeting your eyes. “What if I asked you out again? For real this time. No bets, no pressure. Just… a date. What would you say?”

You could feel your heart racing in your chest as you considered his offer. Part of you wanted to retreat, to protect yourself like you always had. But another part—the part that had been curious about Jay ever since that first conversation—was tired of being so guarded.

So, after a long moment, you took a deep breath and did something you hadn’t done in years.

You smiled at him, genuinely, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll go on a date with you.”

Jay blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes, but then his expression softened into a warm, almost disbelieving smile. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

And just like that, for the first time since you were a child, you allowed yourself to step out from behind the walls you’d built. You didn’t know what would come next, but for the first time in a long time, you were ready to find out.

The conversation between you and Jay eventually faded into a comfortable silence, but the reality of your situation remained—you were still locked in the classroom. That is, until Jay suddenly sat up straight.

"Wait," he said, his face lighting up with realization, "I have my wand."

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by how obvious the solution was. "You’ve had it this whole time?"

Jay rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, pulling his wand out of his pocket. "Yeah… sorry about that."

With a flick of his wrist and a muttered charm, the door clicked open. You stood up, crossing the room toward the door, but something caught your eye near the floor—your own wand, lying forgotten. You must have dropped it when you’d been shoved into the classroom. Picking it up, you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

“Nice work,” you said, flashing Jay a teasing grin as you stepped into the corridor. The castle was quiet now, most students in their common rooms or already asleep.

Jay walked out after you, looking a little embarrassed but smiling nonetheless. “I’ll do better next time.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Next time?”

Jay’s eyes widened, but he quickly recovered. “I mean… for the date. If that still stands.”

You found yourself smiling again, that rare, genuine smile you hadn’t used much in recent years. “Yeah, it still stands. We’re still on for butterbeer.”

Jay grinned, and for a moment, he looked more relieved than anything. “How about next weekend? Hogsmeade?”

You nodded. “Sounds good. The Three Broomsticks?”

“Yeah, perfect,” Jay said, his smile growing wider.

There was a brief pause as you both stood there, not quite knowing how to end the conversation, but eventually, you gave him a small wave. “See you then.”

“See you,” Jay replied, his voice carrying a hint of excitement as he turned and walked down the corridor, disappearing around the corner.

When Jay finally found his friends, they were sprawled out in the common room, looking like they were waiting for him. As soon as he stepped in, they all jumped up, expectant looks on their faces.

“Well?” Kieran asked, barely able to contain his excitement. “What happened?”

Jay leaned against the wall, a small, satisfied smirk on his face. “She said yes.”

The room erupted into chaos. Lucas threw his arms up in victory, and Kieran did a little celebratory dance. Jungwon clapped him on the back, grinning like mad.

“I knew it!” Kieran shouted. “I knew she’d say yes eventually!”

“Best day ever!” Lucas added, punching the air. “Jay, you’re a legend!”

Jay rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the grin on his face. Still, he held up a hand to quiet them down. “Alright, alright, keep it down. Let’s not make a big deal out of it.”

Kieran, who was practically bouncing on his feet, looked confused. “Wait, why? This is huge!”

Jay’s expression softened slightly. “I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want her to think it’s some big joke, alright? So, let’s keep it quiet.”

Lucas and Kieran exchanged glances before nodding. They owed Jay that much—after all, they’d bugged him relentlessly, and he’d finally succeeded.

“Fine, fine,” Kieran agreed, still grinning. “We’ll keep it quiet.”

Jungwon gave Jay a more serious nod of approval. “Good call, man. Don’t worry, we won’t mess it up for you.”

Back in your own dormitory, things went down a little differently.

As soon as you told your friends about the date, they exploded into a frenzy of squealing and excited chatter. You hadn’t even finished the sentence before one of them screamed.

“Wait, you said yes?!” your friend Eliza shrieked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

You nodded, watching as the other girls jumped up from their beds, surrounding you with beaming smiles.

“I can’t believe it!” Hannah exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “We thought you’d never say yes to anyone!”

Another friend, Layla, stared at you in shock. “You rejected Jay the first time, though. What changed?”

You shrugged, feeling a little overwhelmed by their excitement. “I guess… I realized he’s different from the others. He wasn’t just trying to ask me out because of some dare or whatever. He actually seems to care.”

Hannah squealed again, nearly jumping up and down. “This is amazing! You’re going to have so much fun.”

Eliza grabbed your hand, shaking it as if the excitement was too much to contain. “This is huge! You have to tell us everything afterward, okay? Every detail!”

You chuckled softly, feeling a little embarrassed by all the attention. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell you. But it’s just a date. No big deal.”

Layla shook her head, still smiling. “Are you kidding? It’s a huge deal! You’ve been saying no to everyone for years. This is… this is a breakthrough!”

The room buzzed with happiness, and while you didn’t say much more, you let them have their moment. They were excited for you, and deep down, you were starting to feel the same.

For the first time in a long time, you had let someone in, and instead of feeling vulnerable, you felt something else—something almost thrilling.

And as your friends squealed and planned outfits for your upcoming date, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

Maybe, just maybe, letting someone in wasn’t so bad after all.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The news of your date with Jay spread faster than a wildfire through Hogwarts, much to your dismay. You had hoped it would stay between your close circle of friends and his, but that was clearly wishful thinking. By the time Monday rolled around, whispers followed you down the corridors.

People were talking—about you.

“Did you hear she went out with Jay?”

“She said yes? After rejecting everyone for years?”

“I thought she wasn’t into anyone… Guess Jay must be something special.”

You ignored most of it, focusing on your classes and trying not to let it bother you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t dealt with attention before, but this felt different. Now, instead of just admiring glances or half-hearted attempts to ask you out, people were actually speculating about your private life, and it was unsettling.

It didn’t help that some of the guys you’d turned down in the past were less than pleased to hear about your date with Jay.

One afternoon, as you were making your way to the library, you felt eyes on you again. It was a group of boys, some of whom you had rejected before. They were leaning against the stone walls in the corridor, their voices low but clearly directed at you as you passed by.

“Well, look who it is,” one of them muttered, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Guess she’s not as untouchable as we thought.”

You kept walking, trying to ignore them, but another voice piped up. “Yeah, I thought you weren’t into anyone. What, Jay’s better than us now?”

That made you stop. You turned to face them, your heart pounding in your chest. “It’s not like that,” you started, trying to stay calm. “Jay—he’s just…”

But before you could finish, one of the boys, a Slytherin you’d turned down last year, stepped forward with a sneer. “What’s so special about him, huh? You rejected everyone else, but he gets a free pass?”

You felt a flare of irritation rising in your chest. “This isn’t any of your business,” you said sharply. “I can go out with whoever I want.”

The Slytherin smirked, crossing his arms. “Yeah, we get that, but don’t pretend like you’re above us just because you finally said yes to someone. It’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Your stomach twisted with frustration, and you took a step back, wishing more than anything that you hadn’t stopped in the first place. Just as things started to escalate, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Is there a problem here?”

You turned to see Jay walking toward you, his expression calm but his eyes sharp as he glanced at the group of boys. The shift in the air was immediate. The guys who had been giving you a hard time suddenly seemed less confident, their smirks fading as Jay approached.

“Jay,” the Slytherin started, his voice faltering slightly, “we were just—”

“You were just what?” Jay interrupted, his tone steady but firm. He stepped closer, standing beside you in a way that felt protective. “Trying to make her feel uncomfortable? Or are you upset because she didn’t say yes to you?”

The boy opened his mouth to retort but quickly closed it, looking flustered. His friends were already backing away, clearly not wanting to get involved now that Jay was there.

“No, man, we were just talking,” another one muttered, shrugging as if the whole thing had been a misunderstanding.

Jay didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he turned to you and gave you a reassuring look. “You alright?”

You nodded, still a little shaken but grateful for his timing. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.” Jay looked back at the group of boys, his expression unreadable. “I think we’re done here, don’t you?”

Without another word, the boys scattered, disappearing down the hall without so much as a backward glance. The tension in the air lifted, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Jay turned back to you, his demeanor softening. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly. “You okay? I didn’t mean to jump in like that, but it looked like they were giving you a hard time.”

You managed a small smile, feeling a surge of appreciation for him. “No, I’m glad you did. Thanks.”

He gave you a nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he spoke again. “Look, if anyone gives you trouble about us, let me know, alright? I don’t want you to feel like you have to deal with that on your own.”

There was something in his tone—genuine concern, not just for the situation but for you. It made your chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “I will,” you promised. “Thanks, Jay. Really.”

He flashed you a small smile, the kind that made your heart skip just a little. “Anytime.”

With that, Jay walked you to the library, the earlier confrontation already feeling like a distant memory. You couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, like maybe—just maybe—letting someone in wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

As you parted ways, you found yourself thinking about how easy it had been to accept his help. You’d spent so long keeping your walls up, but with Jay, things felt different. Natural.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

As the weeks passed, the dates with Jay became something you looked forward to—no longer something to be nervous about, but a time to relax and enjoy his company.

Jay had this way of making everything feel effortless. He never pressured you, never pushed for more than you were ready to give. Instead, he created a space where you could simply be yourself, something you hadn’t realized you craved so much.

One chilly afternoon, the two of you found yourselves in the Three Broomsticks again, sharing a butterbeer in your usual corner booth. The fire crackled nearby, casting a warm glow as snowflakes danced outside the windows. Jay was talking about something that had happened in Potions class—a small explosion that left half the class covered in purple goo—and you couldn’t help but laugh at his animated retelling of the chaos.

“Merlin, I wish I’d seen that,” you said between giggles, picturing the scene.

Jay grinned. “It was a disaster. But a hilarious one.” He took a sip of his butterbeer before giving you a thoughtful look. “What about you? Any crazy class stories? You always seem to have things together, though.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, trust me, I’ve had my fair share of disasters.” You thought back to a particularly embarrassing Charms mishap during your second year, when your spell went wrong and sent your quill flying across the room, hitting a professor in the face. You told Jay the story, and his laughter echoed through the tavern, making you smile even wider.

It felt so natural, this easy back-and-forth between you. And it wasn’t just laughter. As the days passed, you started to open up about deeper things, the kind of things you had kept buried for years.

One evening, while walking back to the castle from Hogsmeade, the topic turned to your past, to why you had been so guarded for so long. The night was quiet, snow crunching under your boots as you made your way up the path.

Jay looked at you, his expression soft but curious. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… I’ve always wondered. Why didn’t you want to date anyone before?”

You hesitated for a moment, but something about the way he asked—gentle, without any pressure—made it easier to answer. You took a deep breath, watching your breath form little clouds in the cold air. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to date anyone. I guess… I just didn’t trust it. I’d seen so many people fall in love and get hurt. And I didn’t want to be like that. Vulnerable.”

Jay was quiet for a moment, processing what you’d said. “I get that. But… not everyone gets hurt, you know? I mean, yeah, love can be risky, but it can also be worth it.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his perspective. “I’m starting to see that.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Jay had never been the type to get too caught up in feelings. He was easygoing, the guy everyone liked because he kept things light. When his friends had first dragged him into the bet, he went along with it more for the fun of watching them scramble than anything else. And yeah, he’d admit it—he enjoyed the perks of having them do favors for him, running around trying to make sure he didn’t give up too easily.

At first, it was simple. Ask you out, get you to say yes, and then maybe after a few dates, he’d call it quits. That was the plan. He didn’t expect to actually like you beyond the challenge. It was all supposed to be a joke, something to laugh about later with his friends.

But then the first date happened. And something shifted.

You weren’t like anyone he’d ever spent time with before. You were sharp, independent, and you didn’t let people in easily. He respected that. At first, he thought you were just closed off, that you had a wall around you because of past experiences. But during that first butterbeer, when you opened up just a little, he saw a glimpse of the real you—someone with layers, someone with a mind full of thoughts and a heart full of untold stories.

And it hit him—he liked you.

It had only been one date, and already, he felt a pang of guilt. He had no idea it would get this far, no idea that this wouldn’t be some simple, fleeting fling. And suddenly, his initial plan—dating you for the sake of a bet—felt like a dirty little secret. He hadn’t expected to care, hadn’t expected to enjoy your company the way he did.

But then came the second date. And the third. And each time, instead of feeling like he was closer to ending things, he found himself wanting more.

By the fourth date, he was all in. The guilt lingered, gnawing at him, but there was no denying it anymore: he was falling for you. Hard.

He started noticing everything about you—the way you smiled when you thought no one was watching, how your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you were passionate about, and the quiet strength you carried with you. Jay wasn’t sure how it had happened, but somewhere along the way, this had stopped being about the bet. It had become real.

One evening, while the two of you sat by the lake, watching the sky turn shades of pink and purple, Jay found himself thinking about all of it. About how wrong it was in the beginning, how his intentions had been shallow. But more than anything, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he had changed since that first date. He had been pretending to care at first, but now… now he didn’t have to pretend at all.

He wanted to be with you. For real.

Sitting beside you, Jay turned to look at you, his heart heavy with unspoken words. He wasn’t sure how or when he would tell you the truth about how this all started, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t lose you now.

“Hey,” he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You looked at him, curious. “What is it?”

Jay hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to confess everything right then, to tell you about the bet, about how it had all started as a game, but also about how real it had become for him. But he couldn’t do it. Not yet.

“Just that… I’m really glad we’re doing this,” he said, his voice sincere.

You smiled at him, a soft, genuine smile that made his chest tighten. “Me too.”

For a while, you both just sat there, side by side, watching the light dance on the water. The quiet seemed to settle in around you, creating a little bubble where it was just the two of you and nothing else mattered.

Then, a sudden cold breeze swept through, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You instinctively pulled your robes tighter around yourself, but it wasn’t enough. Without even thinking, you scooted closer to Jay, drawn to the warmth of his body. Your shoulder brushed against his, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, a contrast to the chill in the air.

Jay glanced over at you, noticing the movement, and a small smile played at the corner of his lips. “Cold?” he asked softly.

You nodded, rubbing your arms to warm yourself up. “A bit,” you admitted with a soft chuckle, trying not to focus too much on how close you were sitting now.

Without a word, Jay lifted his arm and draped it casually around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. The gesture was natural, as if it had been something he’d wanted to do all along. His warmth enveloped you, and you relaxed against him, letting the tension in your body ease.

“There, better?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing, but there was a gentleness behind it.

“Yeah, much better,” you replied, leaning into him just a little more. The cold was still there, but it didn’t bother you as much anymore—not with Jay so close, his arm wrapped securely around you.

For a few minutes, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other’s warmth as the night settled in around you. It felt… right.

You glanced over at him, your gaze meeting his. There was something different in the way he was looking at you tonight—something deeper, more intense.

Neither of you spoke, but slowly, Jay shifted closer, his hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver up your spine, and your breath caught as his thumb gently traced circles on the back of your hand.

He looked down at your joined hands, then back up at you, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place. "I’ve wanted to do this for a while," he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Your heart raced, and you swallowed, the tension between you growing thicker. “Do what?”

Jay didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned in, closing the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. The world seemed to slow in that moment, the soft press of his lips against yours igniting a fire that had been smoldering for weeks.

You melted into him, your hand tightening around his as you responded to the kiss, a rush of warmth spreading through you. His other hand gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, turning from soft and hesitant to something more urgent, more intense.

Jay’s fingers slipped from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as his kiss grew more heated, more desperate. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that mirrored your own, and without thinking, you reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair.

A soft groan escaped Jay’s lips as you tugged lightly, and in response, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your robes, the way his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. His hand slid down your back, finding its way under your robes, his fingers brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Your head spun as the kiss intensified, and for a brief moment, you tried to pull back, needing air, needing to catch your breath—but Jay wasn’t having it. With a low growl, he pulled you back, his lips crashing against yours once more, more desperate than before.

“More,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice thick with want. “More.”

His hands roamed over your body, caressing you through the layers of fabric, as if he couldn’t get enough.

When you tried to pull back again, needing just a second to breathe, Jay’s grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer. His breath was hot against your lips as he murmured, “Don’t stop. Please. Just… more.”

Your heart raced, your mind spinning with how much you wanted him, how much you needed him in that moment. Every time you pulled back, he was right there, pulling you in again, kissing you deeper, his hands exploring every inch of you as he whispered “more” over and over, his voice heavy with desire.

You didn’t know how long the two of you stayed like that—wrapped up in each other, kissing like you’d been starved for it, for each other. Time seemed to blur, and all you could feel was the heat of his body pressed against yours, the way his hands felt against your skin, the way his lips moved against yours with a need that matched your own.

When you finally managed to pull back, gasping for air, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing heavily. Jay’s eyes were dark, filled with a longing that made your stomach flip. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at you, his thumb gently brushing against your swollen lips.

And then, in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, he murmured, “I’m falling for you. Hard.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and for the first time, you realized that the walls you had built around yourself weren’t just crumbling—they were gone.

“I think I’m falling for you too,” you whispered back.

Jay smiled softly, his hand still tangled in your hair as he pulled you in for another kiss, this one slower, sweeter.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The library was your sanctuary—a quiet place where you could escape from everything. You were there to gather a few books for your assignment, your mind focused on Potions and Charms, anything to keep yourself productive. The familiar scent of old parchment and ink surrounded you, and the soft sounds of pages turning from students studying filled the space.

You were reaching for a book on a high shelf when you heard voices from the other side of the bookshelf. Normally, you would’ve tuned out background noise, but something in the conversation caught your attention. It wasn’t loud, but it was just close enough to make out the words.

"Is Jay really dating her?" A girl’s voice. The tone had a hint of disbelief, as if she couldn’t quite understand the idea.

Your fingers paused on the spine of the book as your stomach tightened. You told yourself it wasn’t worth eavesdropping. That you shouldn’t care. But something kept you rooted in place.

"Nah, he isn’t for real," a boy’s voice responded. The casual tone in his voice made your heart race. "He made a bet with Kieran and Lucas."

The words hit you like a blow to the chest.

You froze, your mind reeling. A bet. You stood there, motionless, feeling like the ground had just been ripped out from under you. The voices continued talking, but you couldn’t hear anything else after that. The buzzing in your ears drowned out everything else as you struggled to make sense of what you’d just overheard.

It felt like the world tilted, your thoughts racing as you replayed every moment with Jay in your head. Every conversation, every laugh, every kiss. Was it all part of a game? A cruel joke?

You didn’t want to believe it. But there it was—the truth laid bare by careless words spoken in a dusty corner of the library. It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. You’d never let yourself get this close to anyone for this exact reason, but Jay had somehow slipped through the cracks of your defenses. And now, everything was crumbling.

The voices moved on, the conversation shifting to something trivial, but you remained frozen in place. Your heart pounded in your chest as anger and hurt swirled inside you, your thoughts muddled and spinning out of control.

Slowly, you lowered your hand from the bookshelf and stepped away, your head spinning. You needed air, space to think. You needed to be anywhere but here, surrounded by the suffocating silence of the library.

You pushed past the shelves and made your way out, the noise of students chattering and studying blending into a blur. The only thing you could focus on was the betrayal clawing at your chest, the feeling of being played—by the one person you had let in after so long.

The memory of Jay’s smile, his gentle touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world… Was that all part of the game too?

You thought back to that night by the lake when he kissed you for the first time, when he told you he was falling for you. Was that a lie too? Had any of it been real?

Your heart pounded harder with each step as the pain built, a lump forming in your throat. You needed to find Jay, confront him, get the truth from him directly. You deserved that much, at least.

As you rounded the corner into the courtyard, your eyes immediately found him—Jay sitting with Kieran and Lucas, the same ones who had apparently been part of the bet. They were laughing, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. The sight made your blood boil.

Without thinking, you marched over, the fury in your chest rising with every step. You could feel their eyes on you as you approached, the laughter dying down, replaced by confusion as they noticed the look on your face.

"Hey," Jay started, his voice light, as if nothing had happened, as if your whole world hadn’t just shattered.

You didn’t give him a chance to say more. "Was it a bet?" you asked sharply, your voice trembling with anger. You didn’t waste time, didn’t dance around the question. You needed the truth, and you needed it now.

Jay’s smile faltered, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. "What?"

"A bet," you repeated, your voice louder now. "Was I just a bet to you, Jongseong?"

His friends exchanged glances, and Kieran shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding your gaze. Jay’s face went pale, the blood draining from it as he realized you knew. You could see the guilt written all over his features, the way his eyes darted from you to his friends, as if searching for a way out of this. But there was no way out.

"Tell me," you demanded, your voice shaking with fury and hurt. "Tell me the truth, Jay."

He stood up, his hands held out in front of him as if to calm you down, but it only made you angrier. "It’s not—look, it wasn’t supposed to—"

"Answer the question!" You cut him off, your voice loud enough to make heads turn from nearby students. You didn’t care. The world could burn for all you cared in that moment. All you wanted was the truth.

Jay let out a shaky breath, his eyes filled with regret, but it was too late for that. "Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It started as a bet. But I—"

That was all you needed to hear. Your heart broke in an instant, the crack so deep it felt like it would never heal. The sting of betrayal cut sharper than any spell, sharper than any pain you had ever felt.

You took a step back, your entire body trembling with the force of your emotions. "You used me," you said, your voice cracking, the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill.

"No, it wasn’t like that," Jay pleaded, his eyes desperate now, stepping toward you, but you took another step back. "I swear, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t mean—"

"But you did," you snapped, cutting him off. "You made a choice. You played with me like I was just some game, some prize to be won. And I fell for it. I fell for you."

The pain in your voice must have hit him, because Jay’s face crumpled, his hands falling to his sides. "I didn’t know it would turn into this," he said softly, his voice breaking. "I didn’t know I’d fall for you, too."

You shook your head, unable to believe anything he said now. "But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because I can’t trust you anymore. I can’t trust any of this."

Jay took another step forward, reaching out as if to touch you, to make you stay. "Please, just let me explain—"

You shoved him back, your hands shaking. "No. We’re done, Jay." Your voice was final, the weight of your words sinking into the silence that followed.

His friends, Kieran and Lucas, stood up, shifting awkwardly, guilt written all over their faces, but you couldn’t care less about them. You pushed past them, not even bothering to look back as Jay called your name, his voice thick with heartbreak.

"Wait!" he shouted after you, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please, just let me explain—"

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You shoved through the crowd, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over as you made your way through the courtyard, your heart shattering with each step.

Behind you, you could hear Jay’s friends trying to comfort him, but their voices faded into the background as you walked away, leaving him standing there, devastated and broken. But that wasn’t your concern anymore. Jay had made his choice, and now you were making yours.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The news that you and Jay had broken up spread like wildfire, igniting whispers and speculation throughout Hogwarts. By the next day, it seemed like everyone knew, and yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought—it was your pain, your heartache, and no one else could feel the weight of it the way you did.

Your friends rallied around you, their support constant and unwavering. They sat with you at meals, made sure you were never alone in the halls, and listened when you needed to vent. They didn’t press you for details, only offering comfort and reassurance whenever the hurt became too much to bear.

But despite their kindness, there was a part of you that remained hollow, a wound that couldn’t be healed overnight. You’d loved Jay—deeply, unexpectedly, against all your defenses. And now, that love felt like a weight you couldn’t shake, like a burden you carried with you no matter how much you tried to push it down.

You focused on school, throwing yourself into your studies with a renewed intensity. If you could just keep busy, maybe you wouldn’t have to think about him—about how much you missed him, despite everything. You wouldn’t let this break you.

But every once in a while, when you walked past the places you used to sit together, or saw him from across the Great Hall, the hurt would flare up again, raw and painful. It took everything in you not to look back, not to let yourself fall into that sadness that lurked beneath the surface.

Jay, on the other hand, was struggling. The smile that once lit up his face had faded, replaced by a hollow expression that even his closest friends noticed. He hadn’t spoken much to Kieran or Lucas since everything came out—they knew better than to approach him, especially after the guilt of what they’d done. Instead, Jay gravitated toward the friends who had always had his back, like Jungwon.

But even around them, he was different. His usual charm, the confidence that once radiated from him, was gone. He wasn’t cracking jokes like he used to, wasn’t the center of attention like before. He was just… broken.

Everywhere he went, it seemed like there was some reminder of you. The places you used to hang out together, the sound of your laughter still echoing in his mind. He hadn’t expected to care this much. In the beginning, it had been a game—a bet that had spiraled out of control. But somewhere along the way, he had fallen for you. Hard.

Now, every time he saw you, it felt like another knife in his chest. He watched you from a distance, seeing you surrounded by your friends, trying to act like everything was fine. He hated himself for what he’d done, for the hurt he caused. He hated that he’d ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Jungwon would sit with him, trying to pull him out of his thoughts, but it didn’t help. Nothing did. Because all Jay could think about was you—how much he missed you, how much he wished he could turn back time and change everything.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

As the Yule Ball approached, the atmosphere at Hogwarts shifted. Excitement buzzed through the halls, a constant reminder of the impending event. Students adorned their robes in bright colors and practiced their dance moves, whispers of who was going with whom filling the air. You had initially planned to attend with your friends, but as the weeks passed, it became clear that they were all pairing off with their significant others.

One by one, you watched them receive their invitations, see their faces light up, and hear their laughter echoing through the halls. It was bittersweet, a reminder of how alone you felt, especially since your breakup with Jay. As the date drew closer, the thought of being a third wheel began to loom larger in your mind, making you reconsider going at all.

You walked out of Charms class, lost in thought about how to politely decline attending the ball. Maybe you could just stay in your common room with a stack of books, avoid the heartbreak of watching couples dance together while you nursed your own wounds.

But as you rounded the corner, your heart nearly stopped when you came face-to-face with a shy Ravenclaw, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darting nervously to the ground. He was a quiet boy you’d spoken to in passing but never really knew well.

"Um, hey," he stammered, scratching the back of his neck. “I was, uh… wondering if you’d like to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Time seemed to freeze for a moment as you processed what he was saying. He looked genuinely hopeful yet equally terrified. You could see the way his hands trembled slightly, his expression a mixture of anticipation and fear of rejection. It was sweet, really. And it tugged at something inside you, a flicker of warmth you hadn’t felt in a while.

You hesitated, considering your options. On one hand, you could accept, and it would mean you wouldn’t have to be alone at the ball. But on the other, you weren’t sure if jumping into a date was the best way to move on from everything with Jay. Still, you didn’t want to shut yourself away completely.

After a long moment of silence, you decided that maybe going with someone new could be a step toward healing. “Sure,” you said, forcing a smile that felt slightly wobbly. “I’d love to go with you.”

His face brightened, relief washing over him. “Really? That’s awesome! I’ll, um, get us some butterbeers later to celebrate?”

“Sounds good,” you replied, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.

As you parted ways, you felt a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you. You knew this wasn’t going to fix everything, but maybe it was a start. A small step forward.

But as you made your way back to the common room, you couldn’t shake the thought of Jay. You wondered how he was handling everything, how he was feeling about the ball. Would he be going? Would he be with someone else, smiling and dancing while you tried to enjoy yourself with a new date?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The night of the Yule Ball arrived with a flurry of excitement, and you could hardly contain your nerves. You and your friends gathered in your common room, laughter bubbling between you as you helped each other with last-minute touches. You slipped into your beautiful long-sleeved dress, the fabric hugging your figure just right and flaring slightly at the waist. The color complemented your skin tone perfectly, and the matching heels gave you an added height that made you feel more confident.

Your hair was elegantly pinned up, delicate flowers clipped in to add a touch of whimsy. As you applied the finishing touches of makeup, you glanced in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. You felt beautiful, ready for the evening ahead.

“Wow, you look stunning!” one of your friends exclaimed, making you blush.

“Thanks! You guys look amazing, too!” you replied, your excitement building.

Once you were all ready, you made your way out of the common room and down the winding staircase toward the Great Hall.

When you reached the entrance to the Great Hall, you spotted your date, the shy Ravenclaw boy, standing nearby in a sleek dress robe that fit him well. He looked nervous but flashed you a warm smile as he approached.

“You look incredible,” he said, his cheeks reddening slightly as he took your hand, guiding you forward.

“Thank you! You clean up nicely too,” you replied, your heart fluttering with the thrill of the moment.

As you stepped into the hall, the decorations took your breath away. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, and the atmosphere was alive with music and laughter. You could see groups of students dancing, chatting, and enjoying themselves, but your gaze was drawn elsewhere.

You scanned the crowd, your heart racing for a different reason now. You were searching for Jay.

You scanned the crowd, your pulse quickening as your eyes searched for him. The hall was alive with the shimmer of enchanted lights, the buzz of conversation, and the sound of music swirling in the background.

Then you saw him.

Jay stood with a group of friends, dressed in a clean, perfectly tailored suit. His hair was slicked back, the usual mess tamed into something more refined, which only made him look even more handsome. He looked every bit the heartthrob he was known to be—confident, sharp, and effortlessly magnetic. But what made your breath hitch was the fact that he was already looking at you.

Your eyes locked, and for a split second, the world around you seemed to blur. There was something intense in the way he looked at you, a softness in his gaze that made your heart skip, but also something else—a tension, a simmering heat. You followed his gaze as it flicked from you to your date, Eli, his eyes darkening just a shade. Was that… jealousy? You wondered, your chest tightening at the thought, the way his jaw clenched, and the subtle flicker of irritation in his eyes when they landed on Eli sent a confusing swirl of emotions through you.

The music shifted, signaling the start of the festivities. The champions were first to take the dance floor, swirling gracefully with their dates. You watched, trying to lose yourself in the celebration, but your mind kept wandering back to the boy standing across the room, who seemed to burn his way into your thoughts.

When the champions' dance came to an end, Eli turned to you, his expression warm and hopeful. “Would you like to dance?” he asked, extending his hand.

You forced a smile, pushing aside the jumble of emotions Jay’s presence had stirred up. “Sure,” you replied, taking his hand.

Eli led you to the dance floor, his grip gentle but firm as he guided you through the steps. The music was beautiful, the lights soft and romantic, and everything around you should have felt perfect. Eli was kind, polite, and sweet. He held you with a respectful distance, his movements smooth and practiced. He was everything you thought you wanted—until now.

Because as you moved through the motions of the dance, something was off. You tried to focus on Eli, on the moment, but your heart wasn’t in it. You looked at him—his bright eyes, his easy smile—and felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t deserve this, because deep down, you knew.

Your heart wasn’t his.

It still beat for someone else. For Jay.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing over your shoulder, searching for him again. And there he was, still standing with his friends, his eyes locked on you. But this time, the jealousy was more evident, etched into his expression as he watched you dance with someone else.

The realization hit you hard, like a wave crashing over you. You had tried to move on, to push Jay out of your heart after everything that had happened, but it hadn’t worked. No matter how much you wanted to deny it, your feelings for him hadn’t faded. They were still there, pulsing beneath the surface, undeniable and raw.

Eli spun you around, his hand warm against yours, but your mind was miles away. You couldn’t keep doing this. Not to yourself, and not to Eli.

As the song came to a close, Eli smiled at you, clearly pleased with the dance. But you couldn’t return the smile fully, not when you were so conflicted inside.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

You nodded, but it was a lie. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

He didn’t press, but the disappointment in his eyes was hard to miss. Still, he squeezed your hand, ever the gentleman, and led you back toward the edge of the hall. But as you followed him, your gaze drifted back to Jay once more, your heart aching with the realization of what you really wanted.

The Yule Ball began to shift into a more relaxed atmosphere as the night wore on. The formal dances gave way to a more carefree kind of celebration, with students letting loose and enjoying the music that filled the Great Hall. The tension of the earlier part of the evening dissolved, replaced by laughter and movement as friends grouped together on the dance floor.

You found yourself in the midst of it, surrounded by your friends, swaying to the music and laughing at the jokes they made. For the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to relax, to let go of all the stress that had been weighing you down.

Your friends were fully immersed in the fun, pulling you into their dances and twirling you around. It was hard not to get caught up in the energy of the moment. You danced without a care, letting the music drown out your thoughts and the laughter of your friends fill your heart.

But as much as you tried to lose yourself in the music, there was still a lingering thought in the back of your mind. Jay. You hadn't seen him for a while now, though you knew he was somewhere in the hall. It was impossible to ignore the way his eyes had followed you earlier, the weight of his gaze like a presence you couldn’t shake.

"Come on, have some fun!" one of your friends called, pulling you back into the moment. You smiled, pushing thoughts of Jay aside, at least for now.

You twirled around, your dress spinning with you as the music grew louder, the crowd of students around you caught up in the same carefree energy. For a while, it was easy to get lost in the atmosphere, to let the magic of the night sweep you away. You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in days, maybe even weeks.

The music thumped softly in the background as you spun one last time with your friends, a wide smile plastered on your face. The night had been more fun than you'd anticipated, and for a while, you had managed to forget everything that had been weighing on you. But after hours of dancing, you began to feel the tiredness creep in, your feet aching in your heels, and a faint dizziness from all the excitement.

You laughed, out of breath, and excused yourself from the group. “I need a break,” you said, flashing a sheepish grin. They waved you off with good-natured cheers, still caught up in their own fun.

Eli, your date for the night, noticed you leaving and approached you before you could disappear. You offered him a smile as he walked up, looking as polished as ever in his sleek robes.

“Hey, Eli," you began, your voice soft, "I just wanted to say I really appreciate you asking me tonight. It meant a lot, especially with everything going on—”

But Eli stopped you with a gentle hand raised. He smiled, though there was a touch of sadness in his eyes. “You don’t need to explain. I understand.”

You hesitated, feeling a flicker of guilt. “Eli, I—"

“It’s okay,” he said kindly, cutting you off again. “You’ve been through a lot, and I don’t blame you for still having feelings for him. You don’t need to apologize or explain yourself.”

His words were a relief, but they also made your heart ache a little. He had been so thoughtful and understanding throughout the night, and you had hoped you wouldn’t hurt him.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “For everything.”

He smiled again, the weight of understanding hanging between you. "Go on, then," he said, giving you a small, encouraging nudge. "Take the night for yourself."

With one last grateful nod, you left the Great Hall, the sound of music and laughter fading behind you as you made your way down the dimly lit corridors. The stone walls echoed softly with the distant noise of the celebration as you wandered further from the hall, needing space to breathe, to think.

Eventually, you found yourself in the courtyard. The cool night breeze washed over you, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the packed hall. You inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill your lungs, and walked over to the fountain at the center of the courtyard.

You sat down by the edge of the fountain, taking a moment to collect yourself. Your fingers found their way to your hair, gently undoing the intricate updo your friends had helped you with. One by one, the flowers they had carefully clipped into your hair began to fall into your lap. You plucked them from the strands, watching as they floated in the water, drifting lazily across the surface of the fountain.

There was something calming about watching the flowers drift, their colors bright against the dark water.

As you sat there, you allowed your mind to wander back to the ball, back to Jay. You had seen the way he had looked at you, the jealousy, the regret—his emotions had been written all over his face. And in that brief moment when your eyes had met, something inside you shifted. You couldn’t deny it anymore. You had feelings for him, strong feelings that hadn’t gone away, no matter how hard you had tried to push them aside.

A part of you still hurt, still felt the sting of betrayal from what had happened. But another part of you—one that you were only now starting to fully acknowledge—wanted to fix things, to give him, and maybe even yourself, another chance.

You stared at the water, the ripples distorting the reflection of the stars overhead, and wondered what your next step would be.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Jay had just returned to the Grand Hall after a brief escape to the bathroom, hoping to clear his head and settle his nerves. The night had been overwhelming, seeing you with someone else and feeling the regret gnawing at his insides. As he re-entered the hall, his eyes immediately scanned the room, searching for you in the sea of dancing students.

But you weren’t there. His eyes darted between groups of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of your dress or your hair, but no luck. His heart sank. He quickly looked for your friends, figuring you’d be with them, but they were too deep in the crowd, completely absorbed in the festivities. A frustrated sigh left him as he slumped back into a chair by the side of the hall.

"Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, his mind racing with thoughts of what could have happened, why you had suddenly disappeared from the hall.

Jungwon sat beside him, quietly observing Jay’s anxious behavior for a moment before speaking. “She’s in the courtyard," he said, his voice calm but knowing.

Jay turned to him, surprise and gratitude crossing his features all at once. "Alone?" he asked, his heart pounding faster now.

Jungwon nodded. "Yeah. She seemed like she needed some space, but if I were you, I'd go talk to her. Now’s your chance."

Without a second thought, Jay pushed himself out of his chair and headed towards the courtyard. He didn’t stop to think about what he was going to say or how he’d explain himself. All that mattered was that you were out there, alone, and he needed to see you, to fix what had been broken.

When he reached the entrance to the courtyard, he saw you sitting by the fountain, your back to him, your head slightly bowed as you released the last few flowers from your hair into the water. The soft light of the moon bathed you in a pale glow, making you look almost ethereal. For a moment, he stood frozen, just watching you.

You looked so peaceful, but at the same time, he could sense the weight you were carrying, the conflict inside you. It pained him to know he had been the cause of it.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Jay slowly walked towards you. The night air was cool, but he barely felt it—his focus was entirely on you. When he got close enough, he spoke softly, not wanting to startle you.

"Hey," he said, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

You turned your head slightly at the sound of his voice, your gaze meeting his. For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was a tension in the air, thick with unspoken words and emotions. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the regret etched in his expression.

“I... I was looking for you,” Jay admitted, stepping closer. His eyes flickered to the fountain where the flowers floated gently on the water, then back to you.

You sighed softly, your fingers playing with the edge of your dress. “I just needed some air. It was getting too much inside.”

Jay swallowed hard, nodding. He hesitated, unsure of how to begin, how to explain the whirlwind of feelings inside him. "I get it. The ball... everything, it’s a lot."

There was a pause, the air between you heavy with all the things left unsaid. You turned back to the fountain, staring at the drifting flowers, your mind a storm of thoughts. But Jay couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“I never wanted things to end the way they did,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I messed up, and I know I hurt you. But I never meant for any of it to happen like this. I didn’t expect… well, I didn’t expect to feel the way I do about you.”

You glanced at him, your eyes soft but still guarded. “And how is that, Jay? How do you feel about me now?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice shaking with honesty. “I’m in love with you.”

You stared at him for a moment, his words lingering in the cool night air. It was a confession that you had never expected to hear from him, not after everything that had happened.

Your heart raced as you took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. Could you do this? Could you let him in again, knowing what had happened?

“I…” You paused, your eyes flickering down to the flowers still floating in the fountain. “I love you too, Jay.”

The words spilled from your lips softly but with a certainty that surprised even you. The weight that had been pressing down on your chest for weeks seemed to lift, leaving a lightness in its wake. You had been holding onto this truth for too long, trying to deny it, but it was always there, waiting for you to acknowledge it.

Jay’s eyes widened in disbelief, a slow smile spreading across his face as he stepped closer. “You… you do?”

You nodded, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “I do. I was angry at you—hurt—but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I tried to push it away, but it’s still there.”

Jay exhaled deeply, relief flooding his features. His happiness was so palpable that it warmed you from the inside. “I didn’t think I’d hear that from you again,” he admitted, sitting down beside you on the edge of the fountain. His knee brushed against yours, sending a familiar warmth through you.

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat there, processing the moment. Jay turned to you, his expression softening. “I need to tell you something. I never wanted to hurt you with the bet. It started as something stupid, something I didn’t even care about, but when I got to know you, really know you…” His voice faltered as he swallowed hard. “Everything changed. You changed everything for me.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “I know,” you said quietly.

Jay blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Jungwon. He told me before the ball. He said that you never meant for it to get so far, that you didn’t want to hurt me, and he thought I should know the truth from someone else before making any decisions.”

Jay’s eyebrows shot up. “Jungwon told you?”

You laughed lightly, the sound easing some of the tension between you. “Yeah, he did. He’s more observant than you give him credit for.”

Jay let out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that little sneak.”

You smiled warmly, feeling a sense of comfort that you hadn’t felt in a long time. “He told me what you said to him—that you realized you had real feelings for me. That you didn’t want to lose me over a stupid bet.”

Jay's expression softened. “I didn’t. I really didn’t want to lose you.”

“I know, Jay,” you said, your voice gentle. “And that’s why I didn’t walk away forever. I was hurt, but�� I knew you didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

Jay reached out, his hand brushing against yours. His fingers curled around yours, and you didn’t pull away. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “For all of it. I should have been honest from the start.”

You gave his hand a soft squeeze, feeling the sincerity in his words. “I know you are. But let’s not dwell on it, okay? We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Jay’s eyes shimmered with gratitude as he smiled at you, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. “I don’t deserve you.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Maybe not, but you’ve got me anyway.”

His smile widened, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like everything was going to be okay. The hurt, the confusion—it was all fading away, replaced by something stronger, something more real.

“I love you,” Jay said again, his voice filled with warmth. “And I’ll spend every day proving it to you, if you’ll let me.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I love you too, Jay.”

As you gazed up at the sky, the stars twinkling like distant diamonds, you felt a sense of peace. You felt… whole.

But as you marveled at the beauty above, you didn’t notice that Jay was watching you instead of the stars. His eyes were soft, full of something deep and unspoken. He wasn’t in awe of the night sky—he was in awe of you.

Without saying a word, Jay reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand, his gaze never leaving your face. With a flick of his wrist and a subtle murmur, he cast a spell. You were so lost in thought that it wasn’t until you noticed movement from the corner of your eye that you looked down.

The flowers that had been floating serenely in the fountain began to rise, swirling around you like petals caught in a gentle breeze. Your eyes widened in surprise as the flowers danced gracefully through the air, forming intricate patterns before slowly weaving themselves into a crown.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the delicate crown of flowers gently settled onto your head. Your fingers instinctively reached up to touch it, feeling the softness of the petals against your skin. You looked at Jay, your mouth slightly parted in shock.

He was smiling at you—his signature smile, the one that always had a way of making your heart flutter. There was something different in his expression now though, something tender and full of emotion. He had never looked at you like this before.

“Jay…” you whispered, still a bit stunned by the beautiful gesture.

He slid closer to you, the space between you disappearing in an instant. His voice was low, almost reverent when he spoke. “You look even more beautiful now,” he said, his eyes flicking up to the crown before returning to yours. “But to me, you always are.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, your earlier surprise melting into a soft smile. “That was… really sweet.”

He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “I meant every bit of it.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the closeness, the intensity of the moment settling between you like a charged current. His touch lingered, and you could feel the soft rhythm of his breathing as his gaze fell to your lips. He wasn’t rushing, just savoring the quiet, the connection that had always been there.

The stars sparkled overhead, but it was nothing compared to the way Jay was looking at you now, like you were his entire world.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you closed the distance between you. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the thrum of anticipation humming in the air as his lips inched closer to yours.

And then, without another word, his lips met yours in a kiss that was soft, tender, and full of everything unspoken between you. It was a kiss that erased the past, the hurt, and the misunderstandings, replacing them with something deeper. Something real.

The soft kiss between you and Jay slowly deepened, the tenderness giving way to a quiet urgency. His hands, which had been resting gently on your waist, tightened slightly, pulling you closer. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, and it only made the moment more intoxicating.

Just as you thought things couldn't get more intense, Jay shifted, his arms wrapping securely around you as he gently lifted you up and placed you on his lap. The sudden movement caught you off guard, and you let out a squeal of surprise followed by a burst of giggles. Jay chuckled along with you, his forehead resting against yours as he peppered your lips and face with a series of playful, teasing kisses.

"Jay!" you giggled, your laughter echoing softly through the courtyard.

He grinned, his lips brushing over yours again before moving to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, not missing a beat. “What? Can’t help it. You look too cute when you laugh,” he teased, his voice warm and full of affection.

You couldn’t help but smile wider as his kisses continued, your hands gripping the front of his shirt to steady yourself. For a moment, you were both lost in the playfulness of it all, the earlier tension replaced with something light and free. The sound of your shared laughter mingled with the night air, making it feel like you two were the only ones in the world.

When he finally paused to look at you, you noticed the smudges of your lipstick now staining his lips. “Jay…” you said, biting your lip to stop from laughing again. “You’ve got my lipstick all over you.”

“So?” he shrugged casually, still holding you close. “I don’t care.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

Jay grinned, his hands resting on your hips as he pulled you in for another kiss, completely unbothered by the lipstick now marking his face. “Yeah, but you love it,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a mix of teasing and sincerity.

You couldn’t argue with that. Your heart swelled as you kissed him again, deeper this time, more passionately. His fingers trailed up your leg, sending shivers through you as the kiss became more intense. You felt him smile against your lips again as his hands steadied you on his lap.

Your breath came in short, heated gasps when you finally pulled back, only for Jay to tilt his head, catching your lips again as if he couldn’t bear to be away from you even for a second. “More,” he whispered in a hushed voice, his lips barely leaving yours as he spoke.

You let out a soft laugh, your hands now gently running through his hair, pulling him even closer. “More?” you repeated, your voice light with amusement.

“Yeah,” Jay whispered again, his breathing heavy, eyes half-lidded as he gazed at you. “More.”

After what felt like an eternity of kissing, you finally pulled back with a soft laugh, your fingers tracing the faint lipstick marks that still stained Jay's lips. “Okay, okay,” you said breathlessly, gently cupping his face. “You need to wipe this off.”

Jay chuckled, his hands reluctantly loosening their grip on you. “Fine, if it bothers you that much.” He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his lips with an exaggerated motion, making you laugh again.

“Much better,” you teased, sliding off his lap with a soft smile. As your feet touched the ground, you smoothed out your dress, adjusting the fabric over your legs. You felt the cool night air once again, and without warning, a shiver ran through your body.

Before you could even react, Jay was already moving. In one swift motion, he pulled off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, the warmth of it instantly enveloping you. “Here,” he murmured, his voice gentle, “don’t want you to get cold.”

You smiled up at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Jay.”

He shrugged as if it were nothing, but the small smile that tugged at his lips told you he was happy to help. “Anything for you.”

With his jacket snug around you, Jay slid his arm around your waist, pulling you close as the two of you made your way back toward the grand hall. The night air still carried a faint chill, but with Jay’s warmth by your side, you hardly noticed it. You leaned into him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder, and he welcomed you into his embrace without hesitation.

When you both stepped back into the grand hall, the atmosphere had shifted. The music was softer now, and there were far fewer people on the dance floor. Many of the students had already retired for the night, leaving only a handful still swaying to the music or talking quietly at their tables.

You glanced around, noticing that your friends were nowhere to be seen, but instead of feeling worried or out of place, you felt a sense of peace. It was like the world had shrunk to just you and Jay.

Leaning further into his side, you sighed softly. Jay’s arm tightened around you as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and comforting.

“Yeah,” you replied, looking up at him. “I’m perfect.”

As the two of you stood together in the quiet grand hall, Jay turned to you, his eyes soft and full of affection. “Do you want to dance?” he asked gently, his hand already extending toward you.

You glanced around the hall, noticing how the crowd had thinned even further, the music slow and sweet in the background. It was the perfect moment, and you knew it. With a small smile, you nodded, slipping your hand into his. “I’d love to.”

Jay’s face lit up, and he led you to the center of the dance floor. His hands found their way to your waist as you rested yours on his shoulders. The two of you moved together slowly, swaying to the rhythm of the soft music. His touch was gentle, and there was a tenderness in the way he held you, as if he was still savoring the fact that you were back in his arms.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jay murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t think I’ve told you that enough.”

Your heart fluttered, and you leaned closer to him, resting your head against his chest. “I think you’ve made up for it,” you teased softly.

Jay’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you closer as he rested his cheek against the top of your head. “I’m so glad I have you back,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the music.

You smiled, your eyes closing as you savored the warmth of his embrace. “Me too, Jay.”

(´ 3｀)

a/n: Jungwon is next! Then Sunoo, Sunghoon and Heeseung!

#enhypen fic #enhypen #jay fanfic #jay enhypen #park jongseong #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong x you #park jongseong imagines #enhypen jay #jay enha #fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #fanfic #jongseong #hogwarts au

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megwritesriddles · 1 month ago

Text

Sweetest Nectar ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Being at Hogwarts at university-level had it's perks, such as unsupervised days in the greenhouse with Neville. Reader finds herself in an unfortunate position thanks to a flower in the greenhouse and Neville has to figure out how to help while being a gentleman and preserving their friendship.

Tags: Sex pollen, Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected sex, Begging, Friends to lovers, Minor yearning, HogwartsUniversity!AU, Post-war/Eighth year, Virgin!Neville (he just is, I don't make the rules), Too much backstory, Sentient Hogwarts, Silly fluffy ending.

Word count: 11.1k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Can you see why I've been gone so long??? This had zero business being 11k words but I'm a chronic overexplainer so here we are!! Skip the first 9 paragraphs if you don't care about any worldbuilding. Continuing my 'Neville gets muscular as he gets older' agenda as per. The last line is so dumb... Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

P.S. this is technically day 23 of my kinktober but it's january so lets not talk about that

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Hogwarts worked in mysterious ways, with its own indecipherable motives. This much had always been true but was especially recognised lately. Once rebuild efforts had concluded after the war, Professor McGonagall, like every headmaster before her, bar Severus Snape, had sent out invitations to recent graduates to join the Higher Education program, a two-year program that would prepare its students to become a professor in any chosen field, subject to meeting entry requirements of the course. Demand for this program was higher than it ever had been, so many recent Hogwarts graduates felt like they had missed so much time at Hogwarts, that they were willing to come back on the program just to make up for lost time. At first, McGonnagal thought of shutting the whole thing down or at least raising entry requirements for joiners; there wasn’t exactly enough room in the designated Higher Education quarters for all the applicants. And though the regular student population had dwindled significantly over the course of the war (best not thought about too hard), it seemed wrong to try and room adults with 15-year-olds just to fit everyone in. The night before she intended to send out the letters of amendment to the required marks, McGonagall felt bizarrely compelled to go on a stroll around the castle, feeling drawn down a route she didn't often find herself going. There, she found a brand new door, behind which were brand new living quarters, just big enough for all the applicants. Although she should have been relieved, McGonagall was initially rather frustrated by this. Why now did the blasted old castle decide it could build, when nearly all summer long volunteers had been slaving away to restore the castle? The windows glittered as if to wink at her, she decided that the daft old thing must have liked the attention. McGonagall found herself relieved, she too felt that the recent graduates were not ready for the career world quite yet, having had not only their final year of study lost to the war, but the years before that tarnished by looming threats and incompetent bumblers. Also, there was an urgent need for qualified teachers of magic, so the more the merrier, even if most of them would only use it as a springboard into something else.

You had always been a shoo-in either way, although you never got to sit your NEWTs, the honourary grades you were given were stellar, supported by fantastic results in your OWLs and overall fantastic conduct in class. The blemishes on your record from the Carrow's note-taking were wiped, leaving your record squeaky clean. You received your acceptance letter and list of supplies and felt like you were eleven again. Everyone was required to specialise in a subject, and while you'd had a couple in which you had adequate grades which you might have chosen, you went for Herbology in the end, as it was something you loved. In all honesty, you liked Professor Sprout the best and were eager to train under her.

As soon as you received your letter, you wrote to Neville. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be studying under Professor Sprout alongside you, despite not even knowing if he had applied to the program initially. He quickly confirmed this suspicion when he wrote back to you, saying he had a sneaky feeling about you as well. The two of you had become fast friends in the sixth year, both being in Advanced Herbology. You'd known each other a little here and there before that, but in this class, your friendship truly formed. The class was very small, as the interest in Advanced Herbology was low, most careers only required a decent grade in standard Herbology, so even those with interest had to prioritise other things for the sake of their future, such as Potions or Charms. There were only the two of you and a pair of Slytherin girls who, despite seeming genuinely very passionate about the subject, refused to converse with the two of you and whispered amongst themselves all the time. This was fine with both of you, as you had each other, taking time to study together, walking to and from class, and working efficiently during any pair work. The two of you had been ripped apart during the war, you had to steer clear of Hogwarts for your safety, and Neville, being intensely monitored by the Carrows at the time, refused to write to you and risk revealing your location to them, so you had been out of contact for quite a while. You wrote to him again on his birthday and had been corresponding a little since, but things felt slightly stunted. You hadn't seen each other in so long and Neville was never the best when it came to socialising.

Arriving at Hogwarts once again had been intensely bittersweet. So many good and bad memories to try and process all at once, it felt overwhelming. You'd had to step outside during the sorting but found yourself far from alone out there. So many people were broken. You apprehensively made your way over to Hermione and said hello. She pulled you into a tight hug, as you hadn't seen her for a long time either. You listened as she explained about Harry and Ron, that they didn't want to go into teaching, and though she'd explained over and over that most people that do the program don't end up teaching, they'd still refused to come. Trying to make the most of it, she tells you it'll be nice to spend time with other friends for once and you nod along. She is somehow specialising in three subjects, she'd wanted to do more of course, but it hadn't been allowed. Trust Hermione to work herself to the bone happily. You'd made it to your room later that night, a private room with an en-suite, which felt awfully fancy for Hogwarts, and settled in. Being back was an odd feeling, you could see the cracks in the stone everywhere you looked, there was pain everywhere, yet so much good to try and find.

To your complete relief, when you started your first day in the Greenhouses, things fell back into place with Neville instantly. At first, you'd greeted him with a hug, which had been awkward as he hadn't been expecting it, but very pleasant once he figured out what was going on. Soon after this though, as Professor Sprout set you her first task (to prepare some plants for her third years), things were back to as they were, perfect. You worked together well, talking and laughing easily, and though occasionally the chat went sour and the mood fell, this was happening with everyone lately, a byproduct of the war, there was so little to talk about that wasn't tarnished that it was a wonder the two of you were able to laugh as much as you were. Neither of the two girls from advanced Herbology were there, and although this initially saddened you both, you conceded that there could be many reasons for it. There weren’t many Slytherin returners, there never had been, but after the war especially, the turnout was pathetic. Most Slytherins avoided their peers after the war for fear of ostracism, which was fair as people had some pretty bad opinions on them but sad because there were several Slytherins who hadn’t been on the wrong side of history who were still facing hostility.

The course was a lot of independent study of assigned texts and essay-writing, but all day on a Tuesday and half a day on a Thursday, the two of you were in the smaller greenhouse behind the ones for teaching, working on various projects, which also sometimes required your attention out of teaching hours. This greenhouse was set aside initially for research purposes at Sprout’s predecessor's request, but now was being used to train those in the higher education program. Despite this greenhouse being smaller than the two nearer the grounds, it was still fairly large and complex. Upon entering, you came into a little cloakroom, where you would have to don your aprons and gloves before entering, with a sink in the corner for washing up when leaving and entering. The next room was the main growing area, growing various plants that weren’t dangerous but were still perhaps best kept out of the reach of the younger students. There was a long wooden workbench in the middle of the room for potting and taking notes and whatever else you might need to do. Off of the opposite end of this room, there were three doors, one that led to a small room which was always kept humid and at tropical temperatures, one which was always kept cool and dry and one lockable room in which more dangerous plants were kept, such as venomous tentacula or fanged geraniums, only to be accessed with Professor Sprout supervising.

Professor Sprout would only tutor the two of you on Thursday, so with the exception of the first few weeks, the two of you were entirely alone from 9 am to 4 pm on a Tuesday. Although it sounded a little salacious when you told friends, the truth was that most Tuesdays you were both too busy for anything to happen. Not that anything would of course, but certain assumptions were made when people heard you were alone together for hours with what they assumed was an easy subject. Mostly your days were full of tending to the plants, having to frequently refer to your notes for how each should be cared for (how much water? what temperature should the water be? do they require singing to?), observing any plants that were the subjects of your essays and preparing plants so they would be safe for lessons with younger year groups.

It’s a Tuesday like any other. Neville is carefully planting some seeds across the workbench from where you’re delicately pruning a particularly active flitterbloom bush, setting the clippings aside to send to the potions department later. One of Neville’s research subjects is observing what methods of growth acceleration work the best and cause the least damage to the plants they’re applied to. He has been planting, growing and replanting dittany over and over for weeks now, but was still gathering more data as he came across more and more methods to test, and each had to be tested several times over to rule out external factors.

Your research was on the merits and drawbacks of pruning, and which plants took best and worst to the practice. Pruning was useful as it allowed more ingredients to be obtained from individual plants for potioneering purposes, but generally was thought to be harmful to the overall health of the plant. You were attempting to write a definitive list of which of the 25 most common plants used in potions could be pruned and which couldn’t, which to your surprise had hardly been researched before as the belief of its harmfulness had permeated the field since 1870 and most Herbologists had steered clear of it since. Your research seemed to be proving it wasn’t nearly as harmful as thought.

The two of you chat idly as Neville uses a pipette to apply various growth potions to the soil of his newly planted seeds and you carefully measure the regrowth of a stem of the flitterbloom bush that you pruned a few weeks ago, struggling as the stem swayed about.

“I can’t believe Hermione talked Ron and Harry into actually joining the course next term,” Neville hums, extracting exactly 5 millilitres of potion from a bottle with his pipette. You scoff.

“For real this time? They keep saying that yet nothing ever comes of it,” you shake your head, scribbling down your measurement on the parchment beside you.

“Yes, really, two new rooms have appeared in the boys' dorms with their names on them, if Hogwarts knows, it must really be happening,” his tongue sticks out slightly between his teeth as he concentrates on dropping the liquid right in the middle of the little pot. Not wanting to throw his research, you wait until he’s done to reply.

“Perhaps Harry and Ron don’t even know it themselves,” you joke, making Neville chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the castle decided it for them,” he carefully pushes the cork back into the top of the potion bottle. “The castle is quite odd lately, perhaps it has whatever its equivalent of brain damage is from the war, it’s acting much more blatantly,”

“How so?” you tilt your head in his direction, soothing your finger over the agitated stem that you just had to hold taut for measuring.

“I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories of people getting stuck in rooms with the people they like, doors literally disappearing until they confess or otherwise!” Neville laughs, carefully moving his pots back to their designated spot on the windowsill. With his back turned, you can’t help but glance at the door despite yourself, wondering if it’s still there. It is. You quickly avert your eyes from the door as he turns back toward you. “It’s why there’s suddenly all these couples popping up, sure the castle has always been a little cheeky, but never so obvious before, it all started with the higher education wing appearing overnight and it’s seemingly been madness since,” he shakes his head, picking up another batch of pots containing little sprouts at various heights that he has to measure.

“It’s sweet how many people have liked each other and not even known… has it always been people who like each other stuck together?” you ask, stroking your quill, feeling the soft tufts beneath your fingers.

“As far as I’ve heard, each time it’s happened it’s ended well,” Neville shrugs, rifling through his bag for his measuring tape. You glance at the door again, seeing it still there. Unrequited, you figure, that door will stay right where it is.

“I wonder where the brain of the castle is if it even has such a thing… it is sentient in some ways, so there must be an equivalent right?” you ponder as he loudly removes his books from his bag and thuds them onto the workbench.

“The room of requirement? For some reason that comes to mind… a fire in your brain can’t be good,” he chuckles, his voice slightly strained as he peers under the table for the offending measuring tape.

“You can borrow mine,” you suggest softly as he comes up with nothing.

“No it’s fine, you need it,” he waves his hand dismissively, standing up from his stool. “I’ll fetch mine from my room, I’m fairly certain I know exactly where it is on my desk, can’t believe I forgot it again,” he grumbles the last part to himself. “Be back in 15, watch my plants,” he smiles, although you can tell from his sheepish look that he’s embarrassed to have forgotten something yet again. Luckily, you could head back to fetch things at any time at your level, no longer having to ask to go to the toilet or anything like that. There was no one here to ask. You smile back, watching as he enters the cloakroom. A few moments later, you see his heavily blurred figure heading up the hill through the heavily rippled glass of the greenhouse windows. In the newfound quiet, you return to your work, hearing only the spray of simulated rain in the tropical growing room.

Finally finished with the flitterbloom, you stand to retrieve your next plant, a valerian bush, for pruning. As you move to stand and step forward, you feel an odd pressure at your ankle. Stepping forward anyway, you realise too late that your foot is hooked on a support between the legs of your stool, sending both you and the stool off balance and toppling over toward the room-length counter that holds all the various plants. Reflexively, your body twists and your arms come up to shield your head as you thud loudly into the solid wood surface, causing a choir of wobbling pots, luckily with no ensuing crash of broken terracotta, you had to count your blessings somewhere. A dull pain throbs through your body, starting from the side that crashed against the counter. Thud! A yelp rips from you as the stool, still twined with your leg, falls onto your thigh. Luckily, it is only light and will leave a small bruise at most, your side colliding with the counter on the other hand…. You shut your eyes tight, feeling utterly embarrassed about what just happened despite being alone. You weren’t normally this clumsy and you were sure you looked a mess, an undignified heap on the floor, too shocked to stand up or even open your eyes yet. In the permeating silence, you sit on the cold stone floor and try not to cry, from the shock more than the pain.

A violent sneeze overtakes your body, the action of it hurting your side. You sniff and cough, dust seemingly surrounding you. You must have jostled some old dusty plants that hadn’t been touched in a while when you collided with the surface. Surrendering to the coughs and sniffs that wracked through your pained body, you wait it out until the dust subsides, grabbing your bruised side as you double over with violent sneezes and sputters. Finally, a deep breath of clean air, you sag against the counter and try to gather yourself now you can breathe properly once more.

“It was exactly where I thought it was…” The door from the cloakroom creaks open in the silence as Neville enters, clutching his measuring tape. “I can be so scatterbrained,” he huffs, his eyes sweeping the room at the height he expects you to be. In embarrassment your eyes squeeze tighter, not wanting him to see the mess you’d gotten yourself into. Upon not seeing you, he glances around for any evidence you might be in one of the back rooms, though not thinking of a reason you would be.

“Down here,” you squeak, your voice hoarse from coughing. The words itch your throat and you splutter slightly once more as he rounds the workbench and spots you on the ground. You give a sheepish smile, finally having opened your eyes. It’s painfully obvious from your stool-adorned leg what happened, you just hope he doesn’t think any less of you. He shouldn’t, he has a reputation for being clumsy himself, but you can’t help but worry. “I fell,” you rasp pathetically.

“Are you alright?” he surges toward you and kneels, immediately examining your head for any bumps, rubbing over your scalp gently. The action makes your cheeks heat up, but you try to ignore it.

“I’m okay, I landed on my side,” you reply as he carefully removes the stool from around your leg and stands it back up beside the workbench. His arms wrap around you and he carefully lifts you to stand, you yelp as the movement stretches your side and he shushes you gently.

“It’s alright, there we go… just—,” he holds you steady until you’re stable on your feet. When he lets go of you, it feels oddly painful deep in your stomach, but you brush that off.

“Thank you,” you whisper shyly.

“Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” he asks, bringing his hand up to feel your skull once more, worrying over whether you might have been badly injured. You lean slightly into his hand without meaning to.

“No I promise, it was just my side and my thigh,” you insist, inwardly wishing he’d brush his hand against those spots to check them. For a moment his hand moves like he might, but he stops himself.

“If you’re sure,” he inspects you once more, hovering behind you as you sit back down on the stool, trying to brush past this whole incident. “Can I grab your plant for you?” he offers. “Which were you going for?” you want to complain, but his eyes are wide and earnest and you know he wants to help.

“The valerian… and could you pop the flitterbloom back for me?” you request, hesitantly testing the tender skin where the stool collided with your thigh, wincing at the throb of pain that followed your touch. Neville dutifully returns the flitterbloom to the counter, then places the valerian bush before you. Behind you, you hear him gently pushing some of the pots that had moved when you smashed into the counter back into place. You flush and keep your head down, pretending to inspect the valerian bush but not being able to focus. Your brain feels a little fogged up, you assume from the shock of the fall. Not wanting to alarm Neville in any way, you grab your tape measure and pretend to measure the leaf regrowth. He quietly moves around the workbench, bringing his pots over to your side of the bench and sitting down beside you to resume his work, his brows furrowed in concern for you. “Really, I’m okay,” you chuckle, but the weakness of your voice does little to reassure him.

“It’s better if I sit here, just in case something happens,” he says, more firmly than he usually says anything. That side of him was new since the war, this ability to stick up for himself in smaller situations. He’d always known how to stick up for the greater good, but little things like this, he would allow himself to be walked all over, too scared of losing a friend. Now that he has more confidence, he’s not so afraid to dispute his nearest and dearest, knowing you’re unlikely to end your friendship with him over this. And if you did, it would be weird and not his fault anyway. The tone of voice is also on the newer side and it stirs something in your belly.

You sit side by side working on your respective projects. Well, Neville is working, you’re more just going through the motions while your mind hovers elsewhere, not allowing you to focus on what you’re meant to be doing. Maybe you were concussed… but you hadn’t hit your head during the fall, so what was wrong? You take a few deep breaths, trying to slow your heart which still seems to be beating slightly fast. Slowly but surely, your body starts to feel a little warm. You glance to make sure the door to the tropical room hasn't opened as your cardigan starts to feel a little stuffy. No matter where you look in the room, you can’t find any source of excess heat. A puff of breath breaches your lips, you’re growing uncomfortable now, the heat only seems to rise and rise. With great unnecessary difficulty, you wrestle yourself free of your cardigan, throwing the wretched thing on the ground beside you with a grunt. Neville gives you a confused look, but not yet seeing anything obviously wrong with you, returns to his measurements. There is relief from the warmth that was engulfing you, but only for ten minutes at most, as soon you are sweltering once more. An awful voice at the back of your head tries to convince you to throw off all of your clothes, but you keep it together, merely squirming in your seat, rubbing your thighs together to try and quell the growing ache in your belly that your mind isn’t quite registering yet. In a last-ditch effort, you sip some water from your lukewarm water bottle, the relief it provides is even shorter than before. Your head whips around now, searching fruitlessly once more for the source of this despicable heat, but finds nothing. Neville is unfazed beside you, still wearing his sweater and looking perfectly comfortable. The only thing you can think of is that Neville must be radiating the heat, as nothing else could explain your sudden discomfort. You reach your hand out toward him, trying to gauge if it gets warmer the closer it gets to his side. This finally catches his attention and when he looks up, he’s met with your flushed clammy face and dilated pupils.

“Whoa! Is everything alright?” he sputtered, leaning back slightly as if worried you’re contagious. This upsets you and you let out an unseemly whine.

“I’m hot,” you huff, pushing your hair back from your face to get more cool air on your skin. “Really hot,” Neville’s eyes brush over you for a moment as he considers just how hot you are, before promptly snapping himself out of it.

“You do look a little… feverish,” he agrees, reaching out and touching the back of his hand to your forehead. You lean forward into the touch, moaning softly. Your skin is burning and slightly tacky with sweat, which makes Neville frown deeply. How could you have suddenly developed such a terrible fever? He pulls his hand back, but you immediately whine and claw at his arm to pull his hand back. Too baffled to protest, he lets you pull his hand to your cheek and watches you lean against it happily. He gently runs his thumb over your cheekbone before catching himself. “Are you alright?” he enquires once more, keeping his voice soothing.

“Don’t stop touching me,” you pout, looking up at him through your lashes with a look that is wholly inappropriate for an academic premises. He swallows.

“Wha-what?” he stammers, watching as you nuzzle against his hand.

“It helps the heat… don’t stop,” you whimper, reaching out to try and pull him closer by his sweater, but not being strong or focused enough to do it. This failure pulls another whine from you. Neville’s mind reels completely and he has to look away from you to compose himself, though he keeps your cheek cradled in his palm. What was going on with you? Were you ill? His eyes find the spot where he’d found you on the floor just earlier in his attempts to avoid the sultry unexplainable look you were giving him. “I need you to touch me,” you mewl, making him shiver.

“I’m not sure that’s–” he cuts himself off when his eyes land on the plant on the counter above where you fell. Lamprocapnos libidinosus, also known as the dripping heart, a magical relative of the bleeding heart flower in the muggle world. A common ingredient in lust potions and aphrodisiacs, highly dangerous in the wrong hands due to the potent amorous effects of its spores. Neville vaguely remembers Professor Sprout's warnings that one of the PhD students was being allowed to grow it for research and to steer completely clear of it. A warning he’s sure you would have headed if you hadn’t been tumbling toward it. Even from afar, he notices a couple of burst spore pods. “Oh no…” he mumbles to himself, dropping his hand from your cheek. You immediately protest but he stops you short. “When you fell… you didn’t happen to breathe in any dust, did you?” his voice shakes slightly, this cannot be happening to you. He always thought they shouldn’t have the plant growing in this greenhouse, even if only experienced herbologists were allowed in. Accidents happened as he knew all too well, and now his vague fears had become a biting reality.

“Yeah, why?” your voice is soft and sweet as you paw at him, trying to get him to hug you, or presumably something more. Neville flushes brightly and shoots upright, making a mad dash for his textbooks, still on the workbench from when he’d been searching through his bag. You wail at his absence, feeling the heat that had reduced to a low simmer return to a full boil. “Please…” you sob at him, not even knowing why you want what you want. “Just hold me, comfort me,” The look in your eye has him breaking, and if he remembers what little he’s read about the plant, you must be rather uncomfortable right now. He returns to your side and allows you to cling to his arm, bumping your head into his shoulder like a loving cat, while he frantically searches for the information he needs to help you. After several panicked flick-throughs, he locates the page.

Lamprocapnos libidinosus; also known as the Dripping Heart or the Flower of Lust.

At the top of the page is information entirely useless to this cause, the best season to plant, how much light is needed, etcetera, but finally Neville finds what he’s looking for under the ‘uses’ section. It’s tough to focus on reading when you’re practically trying to get under his sweater with him, pushing the knit material slightly up his side, your fingertips brushing his abdomen and making him jolt. He pushes your hand away but pulls you into a hug to silence your outcries, which you’re more than happy to sink into. He’s hugged you plenty of times so he pretends this is perfectly normal as he wills his brain to digest what's in front of him on the page. It’s hard to keep this pretending up as he can hear you sniffing him and moaning deeply at the smell of his shower gel, mixed with just a hint of sweat, which in this state only fuels your arousal, acting as a pheromone, worsening your need.

He skims the section frantically. Inhalation of the spores will lead to overwhelming feelings of lust even in small doses, however, the dose may affect who this lust is directed toward. Smaller doses will only worsen lust toward people already lusted after by the infected person, while larger doses will cause these feelings of lust to latch onto whoever is around, no matter prior relationships. The infected person will pursue their object of affection at any cost, they will be unable to focus on anything but the lust that has overtaken them. These feelings of lust, if left untreated, can cause extreme discomfort in the infected person, high fevers, intense symptoms of arousal (such as fluid secretions), shivers, brain fog and other symptoms varying by person and dose. The only way to cure the infected person of these symptoms and return them to full faculties is to have them reach climax.

It seems that you have chosen him as the object of your affections. Neville looks down at you as you hug him tight, continuously trying to slip your hand beneath his jumper. Out of selfish curiosity, he heads for the plant to try and determine how large of a dose you got and whether you may have already experienced feelings of lust toward him before the effects of the plant. When he moves away, you practically sob.

“Please don’t!” you wail, diving for him and into his arms once more. For now, you seemed to be mostly content just being held in his arms, and it’s clear you find it painful when separated from him for even a moment, so Neville has to relent. He delicately lifts you, and although having you wrap your legs around his hips hadn’t been a part of his plan, he supposes it does help keep you steady. He blushes brightly as he walks over to inspect the flower. He’s never held anyone like this, so intimately. Your skirt rides up where your legs wrap around him and he has to tear his eyes away before his thoughts become too inappropriate. You like the sight as much as he does. “You’re so strong,” you purr in his ear, your voice much lower than normal. He shivers and you feel it, the knowledge you’re having some effect on him overtakes your lust-addled brain.

“Th-thank you, I’ve been exercising a lot since the war,” he mumbles, counting all the burst pods on the plant. He counts five, but he’s not sure if that’s considered a large dose or not. Probably, but the pods do look rather small.

“Mmm, it’s so hot…” you purr, trying to wriggle against him. Neville’s face turns red and he practically drops you, but holds you steady so you don’t fall once more once your feet touch the ground.

“Don’t say stuff like that!” he yelps.

“It’s true,” you pout. “I need you,” you try to hop up into his arms again but he holds you firmly on the ground, practically shaking. Really, this should’ve been a dream come true for him, he’d had feelings for you practically since the day the two of you met, but he felt disgusted with himself for every wave of excitement that passed over him. You were burning up, your cheeks brightly flushed, a deep ache at the pit of your belly and an ever-growing wetness in your underwear. All you could think about was how it might feel to have Neville soothing the fire inside you with deep strong thrusts, you moan aloud, if you focus enough you can almost feel it. “I bet you’re big, I bet you’d fill me up so well,” you murmur, looking up at him seductively.

“I- Merlin…” Now Neville feels overheated, he tries to push you away a little but you aren’t letting him. The image of filling you up won’t leave his head no matter how much he commands it to. It doesn’t help that you’re now trying your best to reach his jaw to kiss it.

“Please…” you beg once more. “I need it so badly…” his resistance crumbles for a moment and his hands drop from your sides, allowing you to rush forward and attach your lips to his jaw. His eyes slip shut and he whimpers as you hold him close and lavish his neck and jaw with attention. His arms wrap around you, hands gently skimming your back as you continue to pepper him with kisses. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, your hand dropping to the buckle of his belt. The feeling of you tugging at his belt makes his eyes shoot open. He realises in a sudden flood of shame what he’s allowed you to do. You’ll hate him for this once you’re back to normal. He grabs your shoulders harshly and pushes you away. You squeak as he sits you on one of the stools, your eyes filling with tears at the rejection. You’d been so close to what you needed, and now with this newfound distance from him, you were in pain once more, a horrible throb in your stomach.

“Listen to me,” he breathes shakily. “We can’t do this, you’ll regret it as soon as it’s over,”

“No, I–”

“You’re not in your right mind, you don’t know what you actually want,” he asserts again, reminding himself more than anything. He takes a deep breath and thinks. The only way to cure you according to the textbook was for you to reach climax. In colloquial stories about the plant, he’d always heard that orgasm would have to be reached with the help of another person, but the book didn’t stipulate this, maybe this was the answer. You could do it alone. His cheeks were flushed bright red as he opened his mouth once more. “What you need to do is… er… I’m going to take you into the cloakroom, alright?” he swallows, cautiously pulling you up from the stool onto your feet. You would need to sit somewhere to do this presumably and sitting on the stool or the workbench in here could lead to falling and disaster all over again. The best place he could think of was the bench in the cloakroom where people could sit to remove their shoes. You would have the wall to lean against and wouldn’t be sitting on the cold stone floor. Beneath you, he lays out a towel and then helps you to sit down on top of it. The towel was intended to make you more comfortable, but he considers with a blush that it might be necessary for other reasons also. He clears his throat. “Now, you have to… er… get yourself… uhm…” he can’t seem to make himself say the words. With a soft tug at his sleeve, you pull him to kneel between your legs, your faces nearly level given how much height he has on you.

Before he can stop you, you kiss him. His brain stops functioning for a moment, all he can do is wrap his arms around you and kiss back, so intoxicated by the way your lips move against his. He didn’t have much experience with kissing, but there was no doubt this was the best kiss of his life. You moan against his mouth and it sets all his nerve-endings alight, making him push even closer to you in desperation. For you, the kiss is a sweet relief, cool water washing over your overheated body, but even so, you need more. There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs, a horrible feeling of emptiness that you know only Neville could fill. Trying to urge him on, you brush your tongue against his lips, hoping for entry. You’re allowed in for one tantalising moment before he pulls away with a start when your tongues graze against each other. The whine that rips from your throat is downright pathetic, but you don’t have the faculties to care at that moment. You look at him through your lashes, watching as he fights to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Never in his life has he felt as weak as in this moment, rendered so malleable by his desire for you. The two of you are friends. How will you react when you come back to normal and discover he let you kiss him in this state? That he’s allowed his selfishness to get in the way of what’s right? He jumps to his feet, ignoring your cries and protests as much as it pains him to do so.

“Look, the textbook says that the only way to cure you of this is… a uh… a climax,” he blushes and chokes on the words slightly. “I’m going to keep watch outside that nobody comes in, all you have to do is… you know…”

“Get myself off?” you supply in a sultry voice.

“Yes, exactly,” he clears his throat, turning to leave you alone.

“Nev, please… I need your help… I don’t want to do it alone,” you plead, your voice soft and needy.

“No, you can do it alo– oh… wow,” he exhales heavily as his eyes reach you once more. In an effort to persuade him, you’d pulled up the hem of your skirt and spread your legs, revealing your thighs and your soaked panties to him. The cold air makes you shiver but doesn’t actually cool you down in the slightest. It takes a great deal of strength to keep Neville from lunging himself at you. You look positively delicious, the wetness of your panties allowing him an outline of your most intimate areas, the skin of your thighs soft and plump and enticing. If he was even a slightly feebler man, he’d already be on his knees, devouring you through the thin, damp fabric. Just imagining how you might taste has him weak in the knees. “Oh Merlin…” he breathes, feeling his erection, which has been slightly present for the last half-hour or so, straining painfully against the zip of his jeans. The needy seductive look on your face almost breaks him, he takes a step toward you, causing you to light up, before he stops himself and just stares. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, unable to help himself. He watches you squirm in response.

“Please, I need you,” you beg, unbuttoning your shirt as he observes. The garment falls to the ground, leaving you in your plain bra. Neville doesn’t seem to mind how simple the garment is in the slightest, his breath hitching as you reveal yourself.

“I really shouldn’t” he tries again, but he cannot rip his eyes from your body.

“I can’t do it alone, I feel so empty,” you whimper, spreading your legs further. “Please, fill me, I need your cock,” Neville nearly faints at those words, at the pleading way you say them, at how desired you’re making him feel. His legs carry him forward before his brain can catch up and he sits beside you on the bench. His brain finally does catch up just in time to stop you from sitting in his lap.

“Maybe I can help a little, but we can’t… I can’t uh… I can’t ‘fill’ you,” he gives in, despite knowing he probably shouldn’t. He had heard many times that another person was needed to reverse the effects of the Dripping Heart, so it was likely he did have to help, given the fact you hardly seemed satisfied with the idea of getting off alone. He could still be as much of a gentleman about it as possible. He knew the both of you had limited sexual experience, he himself was a virgin and though he wasn’t sure about you, he would guess you were in the same boat or had only had one partner before. With both of you having so little experience, he didn’t want to go all the way, as for you it would likely be regrettable. You plead with him softly, trying to climb into his lap still, despite his strong arms holding you at bay. Each plea weakens his resolve and he knows you know it because you’re babbling now.

“Please, please Nev, I need you inside me, to fuck me, I’ve never needed anything so badly, please, I know you want me too,” he deserved a medal for being able to resist you for this long, most other boys would have given in the second the girl of their dreams said something even remotely flirty, but he was somehow just barely resisting your pleas to have sex with him.

“Sit down,” he implores you, and you quickly obey, batting your lashes at him. “I’m going to help you, okay? But you need to stay still and just… take what I give you, don’t ask for more, okay?” These words seem to excite you, you squirm and nod, eagerly allowing him to spread your legs. His shaking hand rests on your bare thigh for a moment as he takes a few composing breaths. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, it was something he had dreamed of incessantly, but now it felt like it could ruin his life if he wasn’t careful. You tug softly at his arm, trying to get his hand where you want it, bucking against the air.

“Please…” you sob, clenching around nothing as you look at his large hand against your thigh. He shushes you gently.

“I’m about to, just give me a second,” he stammers, trying to sort through his brain for any information he has on how to do this. He averts his eyes, figuring you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you so intimately, even if the damp fabric of your panties had already given him a pretty good look. Slowly, he places his hand on the apex of your thigh, shivering at the damp warmth he can feel radiating from your core. You mewl. Despite the pain in his neck from the position, he keeps his eyes locked on the wall behind you, pointedly ignoring how arousing the sounds you made were. Gathering his courage, he carefully slips the tips of his fingers past the fabric of your underwear and groans aloud at how wet you are. Your nectar gathers on his fingers and for a moment he just gently swipes them up and down to gather as much as possible, hearing your desperate moans as you lean your head on his shoulder. He never knew a woman could be this wet, and sure perhaps the flower was exacerbating it, but the thought still had him unendingly aroused. The angle wasn’t quite right, so he removed his hand, whining in unison with you at the separation. Your essence dripping down his fingers was like a siren song, trying to lure him to lick his fingers clean and finally get a taste of you. How could he ever explain that to you later? To his infinite regret, he doesn’t bring them to his mouth, sliding his hand into your panties once more, now from the top. This angle works a lot better, your hips immediately buck as his fingers slide over your clit.

“There, please, right there,” you beg, and he’s glad for the advice. A little unsure but determined (no point backing out now, at least he might be able to cure you), he relocates the spot that makes you shiver and whine. Your reaction tells you exactly when he’s found the little bundle of nerves once more and he takes a deep breath, before gently beginning to circle his fingers around it. It’s something he remembers hearing in the common room, and it seems it was good advice as soon you’re panting in his ear like a dog in heat, mewling his name softly. He can’t believe the noises you’re making, the sinful way you’re saying his name, it’s like perfect torture, it takes a lot out of him not to look. “Yes, fuck… Nev…” you whine, feeling the syrupy pleasure coursing through your body. “Yes, yes! More!”

“More?” he croaks, unsure what you mean by that. As a guess, he tries circling faster, and though you definitely seem to like it, your hips canting up into his touch, he can feel you shaking your head against his shoulder.

“Need you inside,” you cry, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“We- we can’t do- that,” he stutters, although he’s never wanted to more in his life. He wholeheartedly agrees with your pained sob in response, but he knows it’s for the best. “How about… er… my fingers? Inside?” he gulps, flustered that he’s even in a situation where he can ask such a thing.

“O-okay,” you whimper. Neville fumbles around for a moment, trying to figure out where to put his fingers. It would be much easier if he could see what he was doing, but he’s already decided he shouldn’t. The fact that he touched you will no doubt be mortifying enough once you’re back to normal. With a little guidance from you, he very slowly and cautiously presses two fingers into you, making you gasp in pleasure. You’re wet and warm and tight around his fingers and he practically drools imagining how you might feel around his cock, almost cumming on the spot just thinking about it. Merlin, he was such a pathetic virgin, maybe he should be taking the chance and losing his virginity now, but it just doesn’t feel right when he doesn’t know how you’ll feel about it afterwards. He presses his forehead to the cool wall to calm himself down and prevent him from looking at how you took his fingers in, withdrawing them just slightly and then pressing them back in. The sound that comes from you makes Neville’s heart skip, so lewd and sinful and full of ecstasy. He wants desperately to kiss you, but he knows he shouldn’t.

At your renewed pleading, he starts up a steady pace, thrusting his fingers in and out the way he wished he could with his cock, feeling filthy for even thinking it. The wet sound that each thrust made, accompanied by your wanton moans makes him feel like he’s the one who has been infected by the flower, so crazed with desire. Could there have been some pollen on you that he inhaled when he helped you up? It didn’t seem impossible, but he was also a young man, they weren’t exactly notorious for being level-headed when it came to sex. You lean heavily against him, gasping against his shoulder at each press of his fingers, the coil in your belly twisting tighter than it ever had before. You mumble incoherent pleas and he simply shushes you, not trusting himself not to give in to you if you keep talking.

“Thumb,” you breathe between vulgar moans and though it takes his sluggish brain a moment, he realises what you want. He presses his fingers deeper, fumbling a moment before his thumb grazes your sensitive bud, making you sob in pleasure. His large deft hand pleasures you like it was made for it, all you can think of is the bliss he’s giving you as he hits all the right spots over and over. Your hand flies up, nails digging into his arm as you realise you’re dangerously close to exploding, despite the bite of your nails, he doesn’t let up his pace, too addicted to the sound of your moans to slow down now. “Nev… I’m–” you cut yourself off with a shout, pleasure shooting through your body like you were struck by lighting. Your muscles tense and tremble, your eyes rolling back in your skull, walls contracting around his fingers hard. The pleasure goes through you in strong waves, drowning you in it, not allowing you respite from shivers and moans for even a second as it wracks through you. You’d never felt anything so intense and all-consuming before. Neville feels your essence gush onto his fingers and though he should be relieved it’s over, he finds himself disappointed that he has to stop doing this, hearing those bewitching sounds. Gently, he removes his hand from you and guides your skirt back down your thighs so he can finally look toward you again. His fingers are covered in your essence, creamy and mouth-watering, the only thing that’s able to stop him from having a taste is your hand still clinging to his arm. He waits for you to gather your breath, silently smug he was able to help, but also petrified of what happens next.

“Are you alright?” he asks delicately, shifting his erection away from your back now that you might actually register it. You open your eyes and look up at him, which immediately makes him frown. Your pupils are still almost comically dilated, your cheeks still pink and clammy, and though it could just be from the aftermath of your orgasm, he immediately knows something is still wrong.

“I feel better… but not entirely,” you whisper and Neville bites his lip. Great. He stands to wash his hands in the sink, and during that brief period of absence, he watches you become consumed by the effects of the flower again, pleading for him to come back. He splashes water on his face and takes a deep breath. You had reached climax, he may not be an expert in female orgasms but he knew what he just saw and felt, so what was wrong? Was the plant in the greenhouse genetically modified in some way? Would he have to call Professor Sprout to ask for help? How exactly could he explain that he’d already given you an orgasm and it hadn’t worked? Looking back, he should have taken you to Madam Pomfrey the second he’d realised what had happened to you, but he thought you would have found it too embarrassing. Now things would be infinitely more embarrassing for the both of you if you sought out help. Lesson learned, just because he’d survived a war it didn’t mean he could deal with anything life threw at him alone. He feels you approaching from behind and turns around, allowing you to sink into his arms. “Stay with me,” you plead, holding him close.

“Okay,” he sighs, because what else can he do now? “I’m here,” He caresses your bare back and tries to forget what he just did to you, but he can’t. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, kissing your forehead without thinking. “I’ve made a mess of things, we did all that and you’re not even cured,”

“Why won’t you fuck me?” you whimper. Your boldness doesn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Because it’s not what you really want, you’d never forgive me once things got back to normal, I was just the only person around for the pollen to latch onto,”

“But that’s what the pollen wants, maybe that’s the only way to cure it, I don’t just want an orgasm, I want you inside me,” you suggest. He’s glad you’re slightly more lucid from the relief of your climax, but you’re still not entirely yourself, your voice slow and sluggish like wading through water when trying to formulate logical thoughts. He can’t deny the way his cock, which had softened slightly, was coming back to life at your words. “Please…” you nuzzle against his chest. “I promise you, I want this even when I’m not… whatever I am right now,” you chuckle. He sighs. He doesn’t quite believe you but he’s running out of ideas of what to do, and your friendship is presumably ruined anyway. Maybe he’s making excuses for himself, but it feels more and more like there’s only one thing for it. He prays you’ll remember how much you begged and how hard he tried to be a gentleman and not hate him, even if you avoid him for the rest of your life after this. “I need you,” you whisper and he gives in.

“Forgive me for this,” he pleads, before lifting you into his arms and moving back over to the bench, sitting down and letting you straddle his lap. You smile at him softly, fluttering your lashes. At least the orgasm before made you a little calmer and more agreeable. If nothing else, if he gets you to orgasm again, you might be even closer to normal. He pulls you to his chest taking a moment to embrace you for what he worries may be the last time. You nuzzle into him eagerly. “I’m a virgin, you know?” he mumbles into your shoulder, not knowing why he feels the need to say it. Those words seem to embolden you, you paw at his chest.

“I promise it’ll be good, please…” you purr. He wonders how you might have reacted if you were your regular self. Would you have found it sweet? Would you have pitied him? You probably knew, everyone knew, but you never mentioned it to him. He allows you to pull off his sweater, lifting his arms and watching you discard it across the room. When you lean in to kiss him, he doesn’t even pretend to put up a fight, holding the back of your neck and kissing you back, pouring all his unspoken feelings into it. He tries to keep it slow and gentle, but you’re far too eager, and the heat starts mounting fast. He pushes away all his doubts, telling himself he can enjoy this, or else it would be even more of a waste. The t-shirt that was under his sweater is next to go, as he pulls away to allow you to rid him of it, he studies your face, still flushed and feverish, but so beautiful, full of lust. His hands fall, one to your waist and the other to your cheek, pulling you back in, pressing his lips to yours and sliding his tongue between them. You moan against his mouth, whimpering a soft sound, a thank you or a plea for more, it’s unclear. He groans back in agreement with whatever it was you intended to say. Your tongues languidly swirl together, caressing one another affectionately. Feeling your warm hands on his bare chest makes him shiver, feeling as you explore the newfound definition of his abdomen, only light, but still a change. In turn, he presses a few kisses to your chest, shakily reaching up to rid you of your bra. It falls away and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare breasts, his breath hitching. He could have never hoped he could see you like this, could have never hoped for any of this, and yet here you were, whining and guiding his hands under your skirt. He runs his hands up and down your thighs as he kisses and sucks at the supple skin of your breasts, giving himself some time to enjoy this despite your hurry. Under different circumstances, he would have liked to have left a mark and asked you to give him one in return, but he knew this was crossing a line as if a million lines hadn’t already been crossed today. At this thought he changes his mind and sucks a tiny mark into the centre of your chest that he’s sure will fade in a few hours, staring at the light pink mark a little wistfully. “Need you inside…” you whine, despite enjoying his affection. There’d be time for that later, but right now it felt completely imperative for him to be inside of you, fearing you might explode if he didn’t give you what you wanted.

“Alright, I get it,” he sighs, placing a few more lingering kisses on the swell of your breasts. Your hands find his belt buckle and without him stopping you this time, they make quick work of it. There’s an awkward shuffle as he helps you lower his jeans around his ankles, but once you’ve settled back in his lap, you take in the sight before you. He looks big even through his boxers, just like you predicted, thick and slightly longer than average. Just the thought of him inside you makes you moan and claw off your skirt with no regard for whether it survives the encounter. Neville’s overheated back presses against the cool wall as he leans back to watch you. He doesn’t bother feeling insecure, as you look like you’ve struck gold as you drool over his length, he supposes in this state you would have been happy with anything. His hands slide up and down your sides, being gentle, taking in the sight of your body, so perfect. He wishes in the back of his mind that this won’t be the last time he sees it, but hope feels too dangerous given the circumstances. He helps you slide your panties down, groaning softly as he spots a string of arousal fluid connecting you and the fabric for a while. You want him so badly. His boxers soon follow and he hisses loudly as your hand wraps around his length. “Oh Merlin…” he whimpers, bucking his hips into your hand. “Fuck, I need you,” he parrots. The ghost of a smile crosses your face as you recognise the words as your own.

“You have me,” you whisper, shifting your hips so you’re above his cock, holding him steady as he twitches. Deep brown hooded eyes stare into yours, he can’t believe his luck. Unable to wait any longer, you sink down onto him. Neville’s eyes squeeze shut in pleasure and he grabs your hips to slow you. You feel perfect around him, warm and silky and inviting, engulfing his whole being in sickly-sweet pleasure. He pulls you close, embracing you as you moan in his ear. Slowly, he lowers you down the rest of the way until your hips are flush with his. For a moment, he simply hugs you and kisses your neck.

“Feels so good,” he pants in your ear. “So good,”

“You fill me perfectly,” you whine, squirming in his lap for friction. “So big…”

“Yeah?” he coughs, trying to sound smooth but failing, causing him to chuckle nervously. “I won’t last, I’m sorry,” he rubs his hands up and down your spine. “I wish this could last forever,” He lets go of you and leans back against the wall, his hands settling on your hips, taking a moment to admire the sight of you on top of him, him inside you. You feel him twitch within you. “Take what you want, love,” he encourages you to move. There’s no point in him trying to remain in control, all he cares about is that you reach climax, he’s bound to anyway. The nickname makes you even needier somehow, the way his voice is deep with desire. Your hands find his shoulders for purchase, eyes meeting for a moment. You’re both flushed and blissful and the look in his dark eyes shoots a jolt through you. He’s always been attractive, but to see him like this, vulnerable, needy, chest-heaving, it was something else. On his advice, you begin lifting yourself up and lowering yourself down onto his cock, moaning unabashedly with each motion. He stretches you open in the most delicious way, exactly how you’d been picturing all day, or for several years really, perfectly endowed. He relaxes and closes his eyes, groaning and whimpering as you move. Every rock of your hips stokes the flames in the both of you, sending you both toward a common end faster than you regularly might.

“Thank you,” you purr between moans. “I’ve needed this so bad,”

“I know,” he chokes out with a tired smile. “I’ve needed it too,” he gently massages the fat of your rear as you ride him, watching in bliss as he disappears inside of you over and over. Your moans rise to a fever pitch, your pace faltering slightly as your climax approaches.

“Yes! Yes!” you practically scream, all your senses heightened as you slam your hips down against him. His face scrunches up in pleasure.

“I’m going to– Ahh!” he grunts, body trembling as he releases thick ropes inside of you, whining with the aftershocks as you continue using him to chase your high. It’s so close, you can’t give up now. Neville’s hands weave into your hair, pulling your face down to his to kiss you. Your tongues meet messily as you struggle to focus on the kiss, preoccupied with your orgasm that is on the tip of your tongue. Heat pools strongly in your abdomen, and you feel the familiar ecstasy of the coil snapping in your belly. Your movement immediately ceases, walls spasming around his length as you moan loudly into his mouth, grabbing him and holding him as close as possible. Your vision whites and your brain goes blank, your whole body twitching violently. He tries his best to soothe you through it, but the pleasure isn’t allowing a single thought to form in your mind for several moments. Finally, your muscles relax and you collapse against him heavily, chest heaving with effort, skin slick with sweat. You vaguely register him removing himself from you and wiping you with a towel, but the corners of your mind are fuzzy and you just cuddle closer to him. You sit in silence for a long while and you nearly fall asleep against his shoulder when he speaks up. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you hum. He tilts your chin up towards him.

“Open your eyes, love,” he implores softly, to which you flutter them open. He sighs a great sigh of relief, seeing your pupils shrink as they react to the light, dilated now a regular amount, and the flush on your cheeks is much less than before. “Do you still need me?” he asks.

“Don’t go,” you panic, holding him closer, but then you realise what he means. “Oh… no, all I want is to maybe have a nap,”

“Thank Merlin, I couldn’t have gone for another round,” he jokes stiltedly. You giggle, cuddling closer once more. “You don’t hate me then?” he mumbles, as if worried he will have reminded you to hate him, gently pushing some hair from your face.

“No, you… saved me,” you shrug.

“Saved seems dramatic,”

“Well, who knows what would have happened to me if you’d just run away and left me alone? You didn’t have to do what you did, but you did it for me,” you lean up to kiss his cheek. “You gave yourself to me completely, just to save me from discomfort,”

“Trust me, it was my pleasure,” he laughs nervously and you gently swat his chest. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead with a barely contained tenderness.

“Yeah, you’ve proved that,” you grin, kissing his cheek again. “And I for you,”

“You’d have had sex with me if I’d been the one to bump into the plant?” he prompts, sliding his hand up your bare side affectionately.

“Of course, I’d have done it way sooner too, not wasted time being a ‘gentleman’,” you tease. “Thank you for that though, it was sweet of you, even if it was unnecessary because I don’t regret it one bit,” you promise him, kissing his lips tenderly. He embraces you tighter for a moment and then loosens his grip.

“We should probably leave, I bet it's past teaching hours now,” he sighs before helping you up and to dress. Your panties are well and truly ruined, so you’re forced to go commando under your skirt. Neville wraps his sweater around your hips to help prevent it from flipping up as you walk through the grounds back to the dorms. He finds it difficult to dress himself as you keep eagerly kissing him, but finally get himself presentable, only to be pulled into another kiss. It’s not desperate or lustful like before, more playful and excited, and he’s happy to accept them. “I take it you like me,” he chuckles as you hug him tight, his arms around you in return.

“Loads,” you sigh into his t-shirt.

“I do too,”

“My room? I promise we can just cuddle and sleep,” you suggest, smiling up at him.

“Hey, give me a few hours, I might be raring to go again,” he jokes.

“Well then definitely my room so I can help you out, I owe you one, don’t I?” you giggle and wink. He blushes slightly and shakes his head.

“That plant has made a monster, come on,” he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go before someone notices and starts asking questions,” he opens the door into the greenhouse, accio-ing both of your bags over, as well as the open textbook from the workbench. “Stupid inaccurate thing,” he grumbles, stuffing it in his bag. You merely giggle at his frustration. As you turn to leave, you’re met with a gleam of magic, the door to the outside of the greenhouse rematerialising. The two of you exchange a look, neither of you had realised the door was even missing amidst the whole debacle, but it must have been, or else it couldn’t have reappeared. Hogwarts had forced the two of you together, it was likely your fall hadn’t even been organic in the first place. You knew you weren’t usually so uncoordinated.

“Huh,” Neville blinks, checking that the door now works, wondering when exactly it disappeared and how he had missed it. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief before the both of you laugh earnestly.

“Hogwarts is a total perv,”

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