#hogwarts themed asks

[tiarpopdind]

Painted this guy 🙄🙄🙄

[anto-pops]

I've recently read lots of short fics at wattpad and also some of yours from your masterpost, and since I'm new to the fandom, I can't understand one thing... Why it is common among fic authors to picture Sebastian with a "breeding kink"? To be honest, it's really interesting to read them, because they're all well written and beautiful, but why? It's like every character might be anyone with any kind of preferences, but Sebastian is pictured mostly like this? It's a common joke for fun in the fandom and since I'm new I don't get it? :) (sorry for possible mistakes, not a native speaker)

LMAO you're all good lovie ! Honestly, I couldn't tell you why so many people like portraying him like that. For me personally, I like to characterize him in my stories as someone who's possessive, obsessive, and clingy, so him being into the concept of breeding the MC adds a little ✨ oomf ✨ to that. Like she's all his inside and out.

There's also the fact that Sebastian's whole family is basically dead. Anne isn't cured by the end of the game, so there's no chance she could possibly have a kid or safely deliver one without dying (in my opinion). In my one breeding-kink-heavy fic End of the Line, Sebastian outright mentions that he wants to build a legacy and pass on his family name so that it doesn't die with him. So that's also a possible reason the theme is so popular if other writers are taking it into account.

For me, Canon Sebastian vs. Fanon Sebastian are two very different people because I'm always incorporating a few years into my fics to make him older. So he's more sure of himself, more confident, and more in tune with what he wants. If the man wants to turn MC into a twinkie to lay some ultimate claim on her, then by God he's gonna do it

Ultimately I think it boils down to all of us being kinky, weird freaks LOL. Out of all the characters in HL, I think Sebastian is the one who tends to be the most emotional, so that kind of translates into him being the one most willing/inclined to go crazy during sexy time.

[greenerteacups]

Re: your recent response about Draco wearing blue - fashion is not something I tend to pick up on (or understand very well generally), so I’m always curious to hear more about it! Do you have any other fashion thoughts you want to elaborate on? You’ve talked a bit about Draco and Hermione’s fashion, what about Harry or Ron?

Aw, yeah! I'll preface this by saying that the following is a combination of canon and headcanon; some of this is evidenced in the text of the fic, but some of it probably isn't, it's just something that's in my head when describing them.

Harry's pretty small in Lionheart, as a consequence of chronic malnutrition in childhood mixed with a genetic predisposition to it (James is canonically a short king, cf. "Hairy Little Christmas.") That means a lot of his muggle clothes don't fit well, being hand-me-downs from Dudley; in contrast, his school robes, which we know he got tailored at Malkin's, seem to fit normally (i.e., Harry fits better in the magical world, it's his home, it suits him). In general, Harry's fashion is "adequate, but not great," which makes sense; he never had the chance to choose his own clothes growing up, and then he went to boarding school with a uniform, so when would he develop a sense of style? Honestly, it's a relief for him to have one fewer decisions to make.

Like Ron, Harry's uniform isn't super meticulous, but he seems to make an effort. He does his tie and keeps his shirt clean, etc. (which makes sense; Harry cares about belonging here). When we see Harry out of uniform, he's usually wearing baggy t-shirts and jeans, which are the least nice clothes you could give to someone while still expecting them to last; they're also clothes that fit loose and hang long on his body (very late-80's + early 90's).

Ron, on the other hand, doesn't have any qualms about belonging in the magical world; he was born to it. This manifests as a laziness with his robes. He doesn't bother with his tie as much, if at all, and when he does it's not the right knot (Draco points it out in Book 3); since he's the brother of not one but two Head Boys, we have to assume that's deliberate, or that at some extent his lack of attention is a deliberate manifestation of something. Ron is youngest boy, he has self-esteem issues, and the way this manifests is by Ron never asking for anything and then getting sour when nothing goes his way. He doesn't try, so he can't feel bad when he fails. Besides which, when Ron does try to dress nice, it backfires; it's either an uncomfortable costume, like in "Operation Prewett," or it's a horrible hand-me-down, e.g. the Yule Ball outfit. Contrast him with the other Weasley boys, many of whom — especially the three oldest — have their own cultivated aesthetics, because they all know who they are. Ron is figuring that out, and it manifests in stylistically messy ways.

[missnight0wl]

I decided to give Brother's Theme a listen and damn I forgot how beautiful how melancholic it sounds. It doesn't have the right to be this good!

Maybe if the writers put that on their earphones and close their eyes they'd be reminded of the vibes the siblings were supposed to have.

Oh, I absolutely agree! “Brother Theme” is so amazing! I mean, to be fair, I have to say that HPHM music is pretty good in general, but this one piece is simply another level.

Sadly, I’m afraid your suggestion might not work either way. It seems that JC turned it into a generic emotional music theme. I don’t mind it being used for Rowan, but I didn’t really like it being used in Chiara’s TLSQ, and I absolutely hated it being used for Peregrine. And sadly, I’m not talking only about meeting Perry – the theme was also played when this piece of shit fell off the bridge.

*sigh*

It really is a shame that it lost its significance. But as you pointed out, the relationship between the siblings lost its original character, too. Hell, now that I think about it, it actually became quite insignificant as well. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really gonna complain about it – the less Fugly Slut is in the game, the better. But at the same time, it just feels sad that Jacob simply… doesn’t feel important anymore, in my opinion. Do you know he wasn’t even mentioned in the chapter about MC’s graduation? I suppose it’s because he’s at the hospital and whatnot, but damn, they could’ve at least given us a short scene where he sends us a letter with congratulations or something. Jacob Ellis would have to be dead to not be there for Helena on a day like this.

But oh well, I guess.

[frostyclove]

oh im so happy to hear universal is being a smart cookie and thinking about adding wicked to the parks. yes do that. but also, while your at it, maybe we could take that brand new section of the paris(?) wizard mess and turn that into the emerald city. its already green and art deco. please because then as the remnants of that brand continues to get ripped to shreds by its author wicked can just replace the other 2 sections and you just easy swap one train for the other train.

i have been thinking about this for months universal its smart i swear

[cruel-seduction]

Mattheo Riddle Headcanon

Warning: This piece contains themes of possessiveness, obsessive behavior, and dark romance undertones. Mattheo's love might be overwhelming, intense, and not suited for everyone’s taste. Reader discretion is advised.

(+ Requests are open so if you wanna request something, go ahead)

Mattheo Riddle

౨ৎ 6’2 | He’s not as tall as Theo, but you wouldn’t dare mention that unless you want to end up against a wall (and not in the fun way—well, not just the fun way). He’s tall enough to tower over you, and honestly, that’s all he needs.

౨ৎ Built to fight | Mattheo doesn’t have the lean elegance of Theo or Draco. He’s solid—broad shoulders, strong arms, and that delicious combination of athletic and dangerous. (He’s fought more boys in Hogwarts hallways than you’ve taken exams, and every single one of them regretted it.)

౨ৎ Hands? MADE FOR SIN. Big, veiny, and calloused from Quidditch and street fights. He’s got a grip that can pin you down or pull you close—whatever mood he’s in. (He could choke you mid-argument, and you’d thank him afterward. RESPECTFULLY.)

౨ৎ He doesn’t work out for fun—he works out to survive. Fistfights, dodging hexes, getting thrown into detention every week; it’s all part of the “Mattheo Maintenance Plan.” (He calls it cardio; we call it hot as hell.)

౨ৎ Face? Pure trouble. Mattheo’s got that sharp jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass. Dark, stormy eyes that smolder like embers, framed by lashes so long they should be illegal. He’s always got a cut or bruise somewhere on his face—his version of an accessory. (You just want to kiss it better, don’t lie.)

౨ৎ Hair? CHAOTIC. Dark and curly, it looks like he ran his hands through it during a fight and then just left it that way. It’s thick and soft, and you know it’d feel like heaven wrapped around your fingers. (Or gripping your thighs while he devour —anyway.)

౨ৎ That smirk. It’s a weapon. Crooked, cocky, and knowing, it has the power to make you forget how to breathe. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he throws it your way. (And you hate yourself for falling for it every single time. But not enough to stop looking.)

౨ৎ He doesn’t just walk; he prowls. There’s a predatory grace to the way Mattheo moves, like he’s always two seconds away from either a fight or dragging you into a dark corner. (You wouldn’t mind the later one, do you?)

౨ৎ Voice? A slow burn. Low, raspy, and smooth, like he’s smoked one too many cigarettes but still has you hanging on every word. When he whispers, it’s game over. (He calls you “trouble” in that tone, and suddenly you’re ready to commit a crime.)

౨ৎ Anger Management Issues | Mattheo doesn’t yell—he doesn’t have to. His rage is cold, quiet, and calculated, which somehow makes it ten times scarier. He’ll get even, and he’ll do it in a way that leaves scars. (Emotionally and physically.)

౨ৎ Fight first, ask questions never. Mattheo’s solution to any problem is his fists. Someone looked at him wrong? Fight. Someone disrespected Theo or Draco? Fight. Someone dared to breathe near you? FIGHT. (And he’ll win, obviously. Look at him.)

౨ৎ Slytherin Prince energy. He doesn’t care for titles, but people gravitate to him anyway. He’s magnetic, exuding a dangerous charisma that makes you want to follow him—even if it means walking straight into hell.

౨ৎ Soft spots? Hidden under lock and key. Mattheo doesn’t open up easily, but when he does, it’s devastating. A rare, crooked smile or a quiet laugh, and suddenly your whole world tilts. (We LOVE a secretly soft bad boy.)

Would you let Mattheo Riddle ruin your life? Absolutely. Would you thank him afterward? Also yes. (No notes. Just him.)

Mattheo Riddle | Personality

౨ৎ He’s loud but in that dangerously calm way when it matters most. Mattheo knows exactly how to push buttons, whether it’s with a smirk, a biting remark, or just the way he looks at you like he knows all your secrets. (Spoiler: he probably does.)

౨ৎ The type of person who thrives in chaos. He’s not a troublemaker by default; he just is trouble. People either avoid him completely or flock to him like moths to a flame—usually the latter. (WE LOVE A MAN WHO IS THE RED FLAG AND THE WHOLE DAMN CARNIVAL!)

౨ৎ Reputation? Notorious. Everyone knows Mattheo Riddle. Maybe it’s because he’s always at the center of some scandal, or maybe it’s just because you can’t not notice him.

౨ৎ Manipulative, but make it hot. He doesn’t need to raise his voice or even argue much. Mattheo knows how to twist words and situations until you’re the one apologizing to him. (And then he has the audacity to smirk about it.)

౨ৎ Fights aren’t something he picks—they’re something that find him. But once he’s in one? All bets are off. "You wanted this. Don’t start crying now."

౨ৎ Unlike Theo’s quiet menace, Mattheo fights loud. He taunts his opponent with sharp quips and cruel laughter, the kind of guy who’ll land a punch and then casually fix his hair like it was nothing.

౨ৎ Obsessive tendencies galore. When Mattheo decides something—or someone—is his, it’s game over. He doesn’t just like you; he fixates. (Good luck trying to shake him off because you’re not going anywhere.)

౨ৎ Affection? Worship disguised as possessiveness. He’s the type to follow you around like a shadow, making sure everyone knows you’re off-limits. His jealousy? Immediate and obvious. "If you wanted to make me mad, congratulations, princess. Now, what are you going to do about it?"

౨ৎ He’s a natural flirt, but it’s not rehearsed. Everything about Mattheo is raw, instinctive, and dripping with confidence. (The man could make tying his shoes look like foreplay. It’s unfair.)

౨ৎ Smirks more than he smiles, and every single one is lethal. It’s the kind of smirk that makes you rethink your life choices. (Like why you aren’t currently pinned against a wall by him.)

౨ৎ His anger is a wildfire—hot, destructive, and consuming. But what’s scarier is the moments right before he snaps, when his voice lowers and his eyes darken. That’s when you really start praying.

౨ৎ Chaotic protector energy. Mattheo doesn’t have many people he’d go to the ends of the earth for, but if you’re one of them? He’ll burn the world down to keep you safe. (And he’d make it look sexy while doing it.)

He’s not just passionate; he’s intense. Whether it’s fights, emotions, or sex, Mattheo doesn’t do anything halfway. He’s all-in, all the time. (Exhausting? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.)

Would you let Mattheo Riddle ruin your day, your life, and your sanity? Absolutely. Would you regret it? Never.

౨ৎ Layers of chaos. On the surface, Mattheo looks like he’s got everything under control—swagger, confidence, and a devil-may-care attitude. But under all that? Oh, he’s a mess. Overthinks everything, but you’d never know it because he masks it with a cocky grin and impulsive decisions. (SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A THERAPIST, BUT ALSO LET HIM KEEP THE TOXIC EDGE. WE LOVE IT.)

౨ৎ Moody as hell, but in the hot way. You’ll know when he’s upset because he gets too quiet, that jawline clenching just so. He won’t lash out; instead, he’ll brood in the corner until someone’s brave enough to poke the bear. "Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? *Smirk.* " (Sir, that smirk says you’re about to burn the whole castle down.)

౨ৎ Impulsive to the core. Plans? Never heard of them. Mattheo acts on instinct—whether it’s throwing a punch or dragging you into an empty corridor because he needs you right now. It’s a miracle he hasn’t landed himself in Azkaban.

౨ৎ Organized chaos. His notes are scribbled, his robes are half-untucked, and yet he’s always prepared. Somehow. He doesn’t stress about the details; he just wings it. (And annoyingly, it works out every time.)

౨ৎ Languages? Oh, he knows a few. His Italian is rough but so hot, especially when he’s muttering something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. And Merlin help you when he growls something in Parseltongue. (THE THINGS WE’D LET HIM DO IN THAT LANGUAGE.)

౨ৎ Smart but reckless. Mattheo doesn’t study much, but he’s one of those annoyingly brilliant types who can pick up a spell by watching someone else do it once. He’d ace every class if he cared enough to put in the effort.

౨ৎ Social butterfly with teeth. He thrives in social situations—not because he’s polite, but because he’s got the charisma of a goddamn snake. Everyone either loves him, hates him, or fears him. Sometimes all three at once. "Hey, sweetheart. Didn’t think I’d catch you looking, but here we are." (Boy, nobody was looking. But now we are.)

౨ৎ Driest sense of humor. Mattheo’s sarcasm is so sharp it could cut glass. Half the time, people not sure if he’s joking or insulting them.

౨ৎ But according to him you look good in everything. Wearing a garbage bad? "Oh baby, You look like goddess"

౨ৎ Drinks tea like an old man. (Yeah, you thought he’d be a whiskey guy, didn’t you? Nope. Earl Grey, no sugar, no milk. Deal with it.)

౨ৎ Parties are his stage. Mattheo doesn’t just attend parties—he owns them. Whether he’s in the center of a fight or the middle of the dance floor, he’s the one everyone’s watching. And if he’s not? He’ll make sure he is. "Draco’s drunk, Theo’s being boring, and you’re coming with me. Now."

౨ৎ Protector vibes, but make it chaotic. Mattheo will fight anyone, anywhere, at any time if they so much as look at his friends the wrong way. But he’s not the silent type—oh no, he’s the guy yelling insults mid-fight and making sure the whole room knows why this person deserved it.

౨ৎ Would you trust Mattheo Riddle to make a single responsible decision in his life? No. Would you follow him into the chaos anyway? Absolutely.

Mattheo Riddle | Boyfriend

Oh, dating Mattheo Riddle is like dating a thunderstorm: chaotic, intense, and utterly mesmerizing. He’s a mix of reckless devotion, gentlemanly gestures, and just the right amount of toxic edge to keep things interesting.

౨ৎ The Fighter You Can’t Stay Mad At:

Let’s get this out of the way: Mattheo is always getting into fights. Whether it’s over you, his friends, or just because someone looked at him wrong, his knuckles are perpetually bruised.

You’ve become an expert at patching him up, and even though he winces when you clean his wounds, he sits still because you’re the one touching him.

But the second you start crying while bandaging him up? Oh, his heart shatters. He’d rather die in the ring than see tears in your eyes. "Baby, please don’t cry. It’s just a scratch—I’m fine, I promise." (Spoiler: It’s not just a scratch, but he’ll never admit it because he can’t stand upsetting you.)

౨ৎ The Open Book:

Mattheo tells you everything. Even the dumb stuff that doesn’t matter.

He’ll burst into your room with stories about the dumb prank Theo pulled or the argument he had with Draco over which Quidditch team is better.

It’s not just oversharing—it’s that he wants you to be part of every aspect of his life. You’re his person, and he doesn’t hold back. "Guess what? Draco tripped on his robe this morning, We saw his penis, and Theo nearly died laughing. You should’ve been there—it was glorious."

౨ৎ Your Number One Listener:

If you’re a talker, Mattheo listens like your words are the most important thing in the world. He’ll nod, ask questions, and remember everything.

You’ll mention something in passing—like wanting to try a new dessert—and two weeks later, he’ll surprise you with it.

And if someone interrupts you while you’re talking? Oh, they’re about to meet a very pissed-off Mattheo. "She wasn’t finished speaking. Shut up and wait your turn."

౨ৎ Gentleman With a Hint of Chaos:

Despite his bad-boy demeanor, Mattheo has a surprisingly soft, thoughtful side.

He carries pads or tampons for you, keeps a hair tie around his wrist just in case, and always has a water bottle on hand because you forget to stay hydrated.

He’ll open doors, walk on the side closest to the street, and make sure you’re warm when it’s cold. (But let’s be honest, he’ll also yank you into a broom closet mid-conversation because he needs to feel you right now.)

౨ৎ Hopelessly Devoted (But Low-Key Toxic):

Mattheo worships the ground you walk on, but don’t mistake that for him being easygoing. Oh no. His loyalty comes with a dark, possessive streak.

He’s not the type to tell you who you can or can’t talk to, but rest assured, anyone who crosses a line with you will regret it.

You can do anything, like literally anything. You can kill a guy and all Mattheo would do is kiss your forehead and hide the body. According to him you are never wrong. You can slap him, punch him, or worse kill him he would still justify it saying there must be a reason behind this.

He’s subtle but scary when it comes to protecting you. A cutting glare, a whispered threat, or just his mere presence is usually enough to keep people in line.

౨ৎ How He Fell in Love:

Mattheo thought he was immune to love. Sure, he flirted and hooked up, but real feelings? Nah, not for him.

Until you came along.

It hit him during one of his usual brawls. He glanced at the crowd, and there you were, looking so worried. And suddenly, getting punched didn’t matter—making sure you never had to worry about him like that again did.

Afterward, he was awkward as hell trying to tell you how he felt. He didn’t have Theo’s calculated charm or Draco’s smoothness. Instead, he just blurted it out one day while you were laughing at some dumb joke he made. "I love you. Like, I think I’d die if you ever left me, so… yeah."

Your stunned silence nearly killed him, but then you kissed him, and he knew he’d never want anyone else.

౨ৎ Ride or Die Energy:

Mattheo isn’t just your boyfriend; he’s your partner in crime.

Whether it’s sneaking into the Restricted Section, hexing someone who pissed you off, or just holding your hand while you rant, he’s always got your back.

He might be reckless, dramatic, and a little toxic, but he’s also fiercely loyal, endlessly devoted, and absolutely crazy about you.

Dating Mattheo Riddle? Exhausting. Chaotic. Perfect.

Mattheo Riddle | Affection

Mattheo Riddle isn't the type to pour out his feelings in grand speeches or dramatic gestures—no, he's far too intense and possessive for that. But when it comes to affection? He’s got a way of showing it that’ll make you never doubt how much you mean to him.

౨ৎ The Quiet, Intense Affection:

Mattheo is a man of action, not words. He won’t always tell you he loves you, but his touch? Oh, it says everything.

His hand on your waist when you walk through crowded hallways. The way his fingers graze your back when you’re standing too close to someone.

In public, he’s cool and calm. But when it’s just the two of you? He’s all about that quiet intensity that makes your heart race.

If someone tries to flirt with you? He’ll just stand there, leaning against a wall with a smirk, eyes dark and unreadable, watching. He doesn’t need to say a word; everyone knows you’re his.

౨ৎ Praise Kink, Because Why Not?

Mattheo lives for praising you, but not in some sugary, over-the-top way. No, his words are quiet, almost off-handed—but they hit like a freight train.

"I don't know how you make doing nothing look so fucking sexy."

“You’re brilliant. You’ve got this whole school eating out of the palm of your hand, and I love it.”

He’ll say things that seem like offhand compliments but are actually his way of making it clear you’re the most important thing in his life. You’ll think about it later, and that’s when it hits: he means it.

౨ৎ Acts of Service—Mattheo Style:

Mattheo won’t jump up and start fussing over you the second you’re upset. He’ll do it in his own way—quietly, but with a look that says he’ll take care of you.

He won’t tell you when he’s bought your favorite candy or snuck into the library to grab the book you mentioned once.

"You said you were feeling stressed, so I already cleared your schedule for the week," he’ll say, as though it’s no big deal. (It’s a huge deal, but he’ll never admit it.)

If you’re tired and need a break, you can bet Mattheo will be the one to drag you out of the common room for a walk, simply so you can breathe without all the chaos.

౨ৎ Possessiveness, But Make It Sexy:

Mattheo doesn’t have to raise his voice or throw punches to show how much you’re his. His possessiveness is felt—a deep, simmering intensity that wraps around you.

At parties, his hand is always on you. Resting on your back, on your thigh, on the curve of your waist. Every touch is a claim, subtle but strong.

He doesn’t need to make a scene when someone flirts with you. Instead, you’ll see him lean in, whisper something in your ear, and the person who was trying to flirt with you? Suddenly, they’ll lose interest.

"I believe you’re standing a little too close to her," Mattheo will say, his voice smooth, and then? Instant silence. You’ll never see that person again.

౨ৎ The Soft Side of Mattheo:

Don’t be fooled by his hard exterior—Mattheo has a surprisingly soft side, but only when he’s with you.

He loves wrapping you up in his arms, his strong hands gently cradling your head as he runs his fingers through your hair. The moment the world is quiet, Mattheo will pull you closer, murmuring things only meant for you.

"You’re the only one who can make me feel like I can finally breathe," he’ll whisper, kissing your forehead like it’s the most sacred thing in the world.

He’s the type to hold you while you fall asleep, his hand resting on your back, as though he’s terrified of letting you go.

౨ৎ Mattheo Riddle, the Perfect Boyfriend:

He’s everything you didn’t know you needed. Intense, protective, and slightly toxic, but in the best way possible.

He’ll fight for you, adore you in his own way, and make you feel like you’re the only one in the world.

It’s the kind of love that burns, but in the most thrilling, heart-stopping way possible.

Because, at the end of the day, Mattheo Riddle isn’t just your boyfriend—he’s your protector, your love, your obsession.

And honestly? You’d never want it any other way.

(So yeah, you might occasionally hate how possessive he is, but you love it. Let’s be real, you know he’s all yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Mattheo Riddle | Obsessive Devotion

If Theodore is calculated destruction, Mattheo Riddle is reckless chaos. He doesn’t just want you to fall apart; he wants to be the reason you can’t put yourself back together. With Mattheo, it’s raw, unrelenting intensity—the kind that leaves you breathless, marked, and utterly ruined.

౨ৎ The Firestarter:

Mattheo thrives on tension, but unlike Theo’s slow burn, Mattheo’s approach is an inferno. He’ll corner you in dark hallways, his hands caging you against the wall, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs something filthy.

"You think you can tease me like that and get away with it? Oh, sweetheart, we’re far from done."

He doesn’t do subtle. His need is primal, immediate, and entirely consuming. If you’re within reach, you’re his—whether it’s in the privacy of his dorm or against a cold stone wall in the dungeons.

౨ৎ Possessive Chaos:

Mattheo doesn’t just want to own you—he needs to make sure everyone else knows it.

He leaves marks on purpose, smirking when you try to cover them up. "Don’t hide it, baby. Let them see who you belong to."

He’ll pull you onto his lap at parties, his hands gripping your thighs possessively, his dark eyes daring anyone to come close.

౨ৎ Praise Me, Baby:

Mattheo isn’t shy about telling you exactly how much he wants you. His words are rough, filthy, and laced with need, but they always leave you trembling.

"You’re a fucking goddess, you know that? Look at you, taking me so perfectly."

He thrives on your reactions—every gasp, every moan, every arch of your back. It’s his fuel, his addiction.

And if you praise him back? If you tell him he’s good, that he’s making you feel amazing? His restraint snaps. He becomes desperate, almost feral, to prove that he can give you everything you want and more.

౨ৎ Control Meets Chaos:

Mattheo loves being in control, but he’s also unpredictable. One moment, he’s guiding you with a firm, steady hand; the next, he’s pinning you down, his lips bruising yours as he loses himself in the heat of the moment.

He’s rough but never careless. Every grip, every bite, every growled "mine" is deliberate, a testament to just how much he adores you.

Push him too far, though—maybe tease him with a sly smile or brush your fingers against his neck when you know he can’t do anything about it—and you’ll unlock a side of him that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

"You want to play games, sweetheart? Fine. But don’t think for a second you’ll win."

౨ৎ The Edge of Obsession:

Mattheo isn’t just devoted—he’s obsessed. He memorizes every little thing about you—your favorite scent, the way your lips twitch when you’re amused, the soft sounds you make when he kisses that spot just below your ear.

He carries your favorite snacks in his bag, not because you asked, but because he noticed you skipped lunch one day.

౨ৎ Endurance King:

Mattheo doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, breathless, and begging for mercy. Even then, he’ll push just a little further, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he watches you fall apart beneath him.

"One more, baby. Just one more. You can do that for me, can’t you?"

And when you think you’ve reached your limit, he’ll hold you close, his voice soft and soothing as he helps you come back down.

౨ৎ Switching It Up:

Mattheo loves being in control, but when you take charge? Oh, it drives him wild. The second you push him onto the bed, straddle his hips, and demand that he behave, he’s putty in your hands.

"You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind, baby."

Watching you take what you want from him—feeling your nails dig into his skin, hearing the way you gasp his name—it’s enough to make him come undone every single time.

౨ৎ The Vulnerable Side of Mattheo:

As intense and chaotic as he is, Mattheo has a softer side that he only shows to you. After the fire has burned out, he’ll hold you close, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers things he’d never admit in the light of day.

"You’re everything to me, you know that? I’d burn the whole world down for you."

He loves running his fingers through your hair, tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he listens to your heartbeat. It’s in those quiet moments that you see the depth of his devotion—the way he’s completely, irreversibly yours.

౨ৎ Mattheo Riddle, The Lover You’ll Never Forget:

He’s fire and brimstone, chaos and passion, but beneath it all is a man who would do anything to make you feel loved, desired, and protected.

With Mattheo, every touch, every word, every moment is a whirlwind of intensity that leaves you craving more.

Because once you’ve been loved by Mattheo Riddle? No one else will ever compare.

[spencersmopbucket]

Another Man's Treasure | Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader Summary: You're Cormac McLaggen's girlfriend — but Cormac pays more attention to Quidditch than you. Shame, shame.. Fred just can't let you go to waste.

Warnings & Themes: fluff, NSFW (oral!fem receiving), cheating on partner

When you'd begun dating Cormac, it was different.

He was attentive, sweet, mindful. But now? The man was a complete git. Most days, you sat on the bleachers of the pitch, feeling absolutely bloody dejected and watching him fly around on a broom for hours practicing for a team he was only a reserve on.

It was pathetic, truly. You and him. You sat waiting for a guy who couldn't show less interest in you if he tried — and he absolutely sucked at Quidditch yet continued to ignore a gorgeous girl for it.

It didn’t help that Cormac never introduced you to anyone either. You weren’t “his girl” at Gryffindor parties — just some girl hanging around him until someone asked who you were. You weren’t on his arm, weren’t in his conversations, and apparently weren’t important enough to even walk with to Hogsmeade.

You were Cormac McLaggen’s girlfriend in the way someone might say they “have a cat” and never feed it.

So, yeah, sitting in the stands while he zoomed around like a headless Hippogriff? It was just your Tuesday.

Sighing, you opened a book, frowning at the pages in front of you. You might as well get comfortable. It would be a while.

Below you, Fred and George Weasley stood, getting gear on to begin practicing. It was a gorgeous day and some of the Quidditch players actually had a solid reason to get out and practice.

Because again, only some had a productive spot on the team.

You felt eyes on you. Glancing down, you saw Fred. You rolled your eyes as he waved at you, wiggling his fingers in a flirtatious fashion.

You knew Fred and George. Everyone did. Every girl especially — they were tall, muscular, Quidditch stars, and incredibly easy on the eyes. You felt a warmth spread across your cheeks at his wave, despite how much you tried to ignore it.

You also tried to ignore the girlish excitement you felt. You were spoken for after all. What would you look like entertaining another man? A right slag, that's what. Waving back nonchalantly, you turned back to your book.

Fred sighed, clipping his helmet onto his head.

“Shame,” he addressed George. "That is a right shame. A crime, really."

George cocked a ginger eyebrow as he adjusted his gloves. “What is?”

Fred nodded subtly toward the stands. “Her. All alone. Looking like that. For him.”

George followed his brother’s gaze, lips tugging into a smirk once he spotted you. “McLaggen’s girlfriend?”

Fred glanced back up at you. You were back absorbed into your book, e/c hair blowing in the soft wind. Every once in a while, you glanced gloomily at your boyfriend, who once again didn't spare you a single ounce of his attention.

"She's the fittest girl at Hogwarts. Easily. Why is she with McLaggen?"

George scoffed under his breath. “Because looks clearly aren’t everything. Or maybe she’s got a savior complex.”

Fred frowned.

"He's not even good at Quidditch! He's bloody awful. Look at him," He gestured to the pitch, where Cormac was wobbling about on his broom. "Doesn't even look like he's playing. Looks like he's doing an interpretive broom dance."

George burst out laughing, nearly dropping his bat. “Merlin’s beard, you're not wrong. That’s not flying — that’s flailing with purpose.”

Fred rolled his eyes. “And somehow that is the bloke she waits around for every damn day like he’s the bloody star player.”

George snorted. “You’ve been keeping tabs, then?”

Fred gave him a look. “You telling me you wouldn’t notice her? Sitting there every day, looking like a dream and getting treated like a backup broomstick?”

“She’s not our problem, mate.”

Fred didn’t answer right away. His jaw ticked slightly as he watched you glance up at Cormac again, a flicker of hope in your eyes — one that died almost immediately when he didn’t so much as wave.

“She could be someone’s world,” Fred said quietly. “Instead she’s waiting for scraps.”

George eyed his brother, something more serious settling between them. “You’ve got it bad.”

Fred didn’t deny it. Instead, he said, “I’m just saying… if it were me, she wouldn’t be sitting up there alone. She’d be on the broom with me. Or on my shoulders. Or—hell, anywhere but forgotten.”

George paused, then smirked again. “So what’s the plan, Casanova?”

Fred grinned, a familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Easy. Show her the difference between being looked at and being wanted.”

He kicked off the ground again, but this time with a different kind of determination.

He was set to embarrass the shit out of McLaggen. One, for being ungrateful. And two.. He was kind of hoping you'd get the ick.

George cackled as Fred shot into the air, weaving expertly through the sky while McLaggen hovered below like a confused Bludger.

“Oi, McLaggen!” Fred called loud enough for half the pitch to hear, voice full of feigned cheer. “You practicing for the ballet? Thought Quidditch involved a Snitch, not pirouettes.”

A few laughs echoed from the other players. Even George barked a laugh, tossing a Bludger up with a wicked grin.

Cormac scowled from midair, wobbling slightly as he turned toward Fred. “Bugger off, Weasley!”

Fred cupped a hand around his ear. “Sorry — couldn’t hear you over the sound of mediocrity!”

You peeked over the top of your book, startled by the sudden exchange. You tried to hide your amusement, but Fred caught the slight twitch of your lips. His chest swelled with triumph.

Phase One: Humiliate the knob. Phase Two: Make her smile. Phase Three: …Well, he hadn’t figured that bit out yet. But he would.

Fred flew another circle around Cormac, performing an exaggerated, showy dive that ended with a perfect landing — just below the bleachers where you sat.

He pulled off his helmet, glancing up at you with that telltale grin.

“Hope you’re taking notes,” he called, slightly breathless. “In case your boyfriend ever wants to learn how to actually fly.”

Your mouth parted slightly, a laugh escaping before you could catch it. “Are you always this cocky, or is today special?”

Fred’s eyes gleamed. “Only on Tuesdays. And when a pretty girl’s watching.”

He winked, then turned and jogged back onto the field — leaving you flustered, smiling despite yourself, and just a little less devoted to the prat in the air.

You didn’t know it yet, but Fred Weasley had just started rewriting your entire love story.

Of course, Cormac had opted to go over plays in the locker room after the incident at the pitch instead of walking back to the dorms with you. Typical.

You walked back alone, carrying your book and pulling your jacket tighter — the wind had started to get chilly as the day went on. You hummed to yourself as you got closer to the castle.

“Oi! Bookworm!”

You turned, startled, and there he was — Fred Weasley, jogging up beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hair was windblown, his cheeks still pink from the chill, and his smile was… well, unfair, really.

“Didn’t think it was nice to let you walk alone,” he said, matching your pace. “Seems your rogue Bludger of a boyfriend forgot where the castle was.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were already smiling. “He’s not my Bludger. He’s just... my boyfriend.”

Fred made a face. “You say that like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, choosing not to respond right away. The path toward the castle was quiet, apart from your footsteps on the gravel and the low whistle of the wind. It felt weirdly intimate — the kind of silence that made you feel seen.

Fred didn’t push. Just walked with you, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You know,” he said after a moment, glancing sideways at you, “I wasn’t joking earlier.”

“About what?”

“About you being the prettiest girl at Hogwarts.”

Your heart skipped embarrassingly. “That so?”

“Swear on George’s life,” he said solemnly. “And I only say that when I really mean it. He’s very dear to me.”

You laughed again, surprised at how warm it made you feel — not just the compliment, but the effort. The way he noticed you, even in a moment as small as this.

“I’m not used to people saying things like that to me,” you admitted quietly.

Fred slowed his pace slightly, studying you. “Well, get used to it.”

You looked at him, brow raised. “Why?”

He smirked. “Because I’m not done saying them.”

And as the two of you crossed through the castle doors, brushing shoulders, warmth blooming where he accidentally touched your arm — you realized something:

You hadn’t thought of Cormac once since Fred showed up.

"I have a boyfriend, Weasley," you snorted. "I doubt he'd take kindly to you doing this."

Fred just grinned, undeterred. That infuriating, charming grin of his — the kind that made your stomach twist in a way Cormac's never had.

“Doing what?” he asked innocently, all wide eyes and mock-surprise. “Walking you back? Complimenting you? Being decent? Merlin forbid.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

Fred leaned in a little, voice lowering — not teasing now, but sincere, softer. “I know. And I know you’re with him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see what he doesn’t.”

You blinked, startled by the seriousness that slipped into his tone.

“He takes you for granted,” Fred continued, holding your gaze. “Doesn’t mean I have to.”

The hallway was suddenly too quiet. Too warm. You opened your mouth, but you weren’t even sure what you were going to say — luckily, Fred filled the silence with a familiar crooked smile, stepping back and releasing the tension.

“But hey,” he added, casual again, “if he ever stops being the luckiest git alive... I hope I’m first in line.”

Then he winked — not flirty this time, not entirely — and turned toward the Gryffindor staircase like he hadn’t just lobbed a Confundus charm straight into your chest.

And Merlin help you...

You kind of wished he already was first in line.

—

The first Common Room party of the year always hit immediately after the first Gryffindor quidditch win.

Only 6th and 7th years were invited, of course — there was Firewhiskey and other alcholic beverages involved. If the younger students were invited, the festivities may get out to the professors. If that happened, everyone was being hexed by McGonagall and buried in a hole on the quidditch field.

You got ready with Hermione and Ginny Weasley (who you'd just met the same night). Hermione was your closest friend. After you'd confided in her about having a slight crush on Fred, she'd immediately introduced you to the ginger girl.

Hermione curled your hair gently as you giggled, listening to a story about Ron bubble from Ginny's lips.

“…and then Ron actually tried to hex Malfoy with a mouth full of treacle tart,” Ginny said, laughing as she swept some glitter onto her cheekbones. “Honestly, I’ve never seen treacle shoot that far.”

You snorted, barely managing to stay still as Hermione tugged the curling wand through another section of your hair. “Did it even work?”

“Of course not,” Hermione huffed from behind you. “He said ‘slug’ instead of ‘slugulus.’ All he managed to do was make a very sticky mess.”

You grinned into the mirror, cheeks already sore from smiling. There was a lightness in your chest tonight — the kind that hadn’t been there in weeks. You knew why.

Fred.

Even the name fluttered through your chest like a secret. It often switched between feelings of excitement and feelings of guilt.

You glanced down at your outfit — Hermione had loaned you one of her sleeker cardigans and Ginny insisted you wear her black mini skirt (“You’ve got legs, use them”), and your own boots tied it all together. You had to admit… you looked good.

No. You looked better than good. You looked like someone who was not dating Cormac McLaggen anymore — which wasn't true, but you looked it. You knew Cormac wouldn't approve of your outfit. You also knew he might not even pay enough attention to you to care.

Hermione raised a brow at you through the mirror. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m always smiling.”

“Not like that you’re not,” she smirked, handing you a tube of lip gloss. “You’ve got the look of a girl who’s about to fall.”

Ginny tilted her head. “For Fred?”

You rolled your eyes.

"Gals! I have a boyfriend."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, and he’s busy playing Quidditch, while Fred is right here, right in front of you, actually noticing you.”

Hermione shot her a look. “We’re not encouraging this, Ginny.”

You blinked, glancing at your reflection in the mirror again. The truth hit you like a ton of bricks: Fred had been noticing you for days. And you'd been noticing him right back. You'd even caught yourself imagining what it would be like to kiss him, to have someone actually see you instead of just waiting around for scraps.

Your fingers tightened around the lip gloss Hermione handed you, unsure of how to respond. The guilt felt like a heavy cloak you couldn’t quite shake off.

“I have a boyfriend,” you muttered, voice quieter this time. "But—"

“You're not blind," Ginny finished for you, that smirk still in place.

Hermione shot her friend a glance, looking more thoughtful than mischievous. “It’s just... if you’re not happy in a relationship, it’s okay to rethink things. Just don’t rush into anything.”

You met her eyes in the mirror, her voice striking a chord. You weren’t happy. You hadn’t been for a while.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” you said, the words feeling heavier than you intended. “But I also don't want to keep pretending everything’s fine.”

Ginny reached out, squeezing your shoulder lightly. “You don’t have to pretend. And besides, if Fred’s interested, you should at least see where it goes.” She raised her glass of pumpkin juice. “No harm in that, right?”

You forced a smile, feeling a weight lift from your chest. “Yeah, I guess. No harm.”

Hermione let out a sigh, but there was no disapproval in her tone. "Just don't make any decisions you aren't ready for. But do what makes you happy, alright?"

"Alright," you nodded, feeling strangely reassured.

As you stepped into the common room, you tried to shake off the heavy thoughts clouding your mind, but they followed you like shadows. Cormac hadn't even noticed you when you walked in, his focus entirely on the latest Quidditch match stats he was bantering about with Seamus. You approached him with your arms crossed, smiling kindly when he finally glanced down at you.

"Hi, love."

He smiled back briefly, leaning down to peck your cheek.

"Hello, darling."

The brief kiss on your cheek didn’t feel like it used to. It was routine now, nothing more than a formality. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a smile, trying to ignore the empty feeling settling in your chest.

“How was the match?” you asked, hoping for some kind of real connection.

Cormac shrugged, already turning his attention back to Seamus, clearly eager to get back to the conversation. “Ah, you know, same old, same old. Quidditch, mate. Nothing to worry about. I’m already focused on the next game.”

You wanted to be nasty. You wanted to be rude.

How would he even know how the match was? The git didn't even play in it. He sat on the bench.

You bit your lip to stop the words from spilling out, but they hovered at the tip of your tongue, demanding to be said. The frustration you’d been holding back for weeks was threatening to pour out like a flood. How could he be so blind? How could he be so wrapped up in his own world that he didn’t even notice how much you were trying?

Instead of lashing out, you forced a tight smile, biting down on your irritation.

“Right,” you said, your voice slightly sharper than you intended. “You’re focused on the next game. Of course.”

He didn’t catch the sarcasm, of course. He was too busy regaling Seamus with more stats, as if that was the most important thing in the world.

You stood there, arms crossed, and felt yourself growing smaller in his shadow. The longer you stayed in his orbit, the more you realized just how little you mattered to him anymore. It wasn’t even about Quidditch anymore — it was about how he couldn’t be bothered to even acknowledge you, let alone make any effort.

You shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling like you couldn’t stand there another second. You could practically hear Fred’s voice in your head — You deserve better than this — and for the first time, it actually felt true.

With a last glance at Cormac, who hadn’t even realized you were still standing there, you walked off, a burst of energy propelling you away from the dullness of him. You didn’t know where you were going, but anywhere felt better than standing there like an afterthought.

And then you spotted Fred.

Of course, he was watching. He always seemed to be watching.

His lips quirked up when he saw you, and the glint in his eyes was almost enough to make you forget how awful everything had just been. Almost.

“Looks like that went well,” Fred remarked, crossing his arms as you stopped in front of him, feeling the weight of everything on your shoulders.

You almost didn’t know how to respond, but somehow, Fred’s presence made it easier. “Well, he’s still talking about Quidditch,” you said, your tone almost too calm for how you were feeling inside.

Fred laughed, glancing over at your boyfriend.

"Quidditch, yeah? The same Quidditch game I played and won today?" He asked playfully. "That's funny. I don't remember seeing a Cormac McLaggen on the pitch."

You couldn't help but laugh at the way Fred's tone had an edge of mockery, and the way he made Cormac sound so utterly irrelevant. You glanced at your boyfriend again, who was still in his own little world, bragging about his Quidditch expertise. It was honestly pathetic.

"Exactly," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I don't think Cormac would know how to hold a broomstick properly if it bit him."

Fred's grin widened, clearly pleased with your response. "Well, at least one of us appreciates Quidditch the way it was meant to be." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, "And just so you know, I don't mind playing for two."

You met his gaze, a teasing smile curling on your lips. "Two?"

"Yeah, for you." Fred said it with such casual confidence, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, but the way his eyes lingered on yours made your chest tighten in a good way.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to let your thoughts run away with you. Cormac was still your boyfriend — kind of. But standing there, in Fred's orbit, you couldn’t ignore the growing pull between you two, a magnetic force you hadn’t expected.

"I don't think Cormac would appreciate you sharing the spotlight," you teased, but even you could hear the lack of real conviction in your words.

Fred chuckled, his voice lowering in that way that made it feel like there was no one else around. "Who says I’m sharing? You’ve got a lot more going for you than just his attention."

For a moment, the space between you seemed to shrink, and everything else — Cormac, the party, the chatter — disappeared. It was just you and Fred, and the undeniable chemistry that had been building since the first time he’d shown up at the pitch.

“Maybe you’re right,” you said softly, unable to pull your eyes away from his.

The party went on. You didn't even waste your time glancing at Cormac anymore. Instead, you took shots with your friends and cast every spare glance at Fred.

As you got drunker, your feelings got stronger. They always did. You sat with Hermione and Ginny, singing a song loudly and giggling. Before you knew it, Fred was back again, smirking.

Fred leaned casually against the table, his smirk never faltering as he watched you and your friends. He crossed his arms, but his eyes were all on you, gleaming with mischief and something else — something that made your pulse race just a little faster.

"Still here?" you teased, a playful challenge in your voice as you looked up at him from where you sat.

"Wouldn’t miss it," he replied smoothly, his tone low, yet dripping with that signature charm. "Besides, I don’t think you’d want to be stuck with Cormac for much longer."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was undeniable. “I’m fine without him,” you said, feeling the heat of alcohol start to cloud your thoughts, but only in the best way possible. "And maybe I’ve got better company right here.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling into a half-smirk. "Better company, huh? What a coincidence. I was thinking the same thing."

The tension between you both was electric, palpable. It hung in the air, thick and unspoken, but you could feel it in the way Fred’s gaze never wavered from you.

Ginny, always the observant one, caught the subtle shift in the atmosphere and grinned. "Alright, you two," she said with a knowing look. "You both should just kiss already."

Your heart skipped, and for a split second, Fred’s eyes flickered to yours, his smirk turning into something more sincere, something almost... hungry.

You nearly choked on your drink, laughing in an attempt to mask the sudden heat on your face. "Ginny!" you protested, though it came out breathlessly. "You’re drunk."

Fred chuckled, his voice barely audible above the noise of the party. “I’ll take that as a compliment, then.”

The moment was interrupted. Cormac cleared his throat, a glare on his face. His friends stood behind him.

The air in the room instantly thickened, the playful energy dissipating as Cormac’s presence loomed over you like a storm cloud. He didn’t even glance at Fred; his eyes were fixed on you, his expression harsh, almost accusing.

“Everything alright here?” Cormac’s voice was low, the kind of tone that suggested he already knew the answer but wanted to make sure you felt the weight of his disapproval.

You shrugged.

"You seemed fine in your corner of the room."

Cormac’s jaw tightened at your response, and his friends shifted uncomfortably behind him, sensing the brewing tension. He wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, and you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’re drunk,” he muttered, his gaze flicking to the drink in your hand as though it was some kind of proof of your irresponsibility. “And you’re with him.” His eyes shot a pointed glare at Fred, who simply raised an eyebrow and leaned back casually.

“I’m allowed to talk to whoever I want,” you replied, keeping your tone steady, even though your heart was pounding. You could feel the eyes of the entire room on you, but this time, it didn’t bother you as much as it usually did. You were done hiding in Cormac’s shadow.

Fred smirked and took a step back, hands in his pockets as if to give you space, but still within reach should you need him. "Looks like someone needs to get a grip," he said lightly, his voice teasing, but there was an edge to it.

Cormac’s nostrils flared, and he took a step closer, his face reddening. "You think this is funny, Weasley?" His voice was low, threatening. "Stay out of this."

Fred’s grin never wavered. “I think it’s hilarious, actually. But hey, if you want to keep playing the jealous boyfriend role, go ahead.”

You could see Cormac’s hands twitch. He stepped forward. Fred raised an eyebrow, standing from his seat. He was easily a head taller than Cormac, maybe more.

"Stay away from my girlfriend, git. I hear all the whispers around this school. Fred Weasley flirting with my girlfriend. You're flirtin' with a right ass kicking next."

Fred’s eyes darkened slightly, but his smirk remained, though now it was colder, sharper. He stood tall, his posture effortlessly confident, an undeniable contrast to Cormac’s flustered and aggressive stance.

"An arse kicking?" Fred snorted, actually having the guff to laugh in Cormac's face. "Oi, Georgie! Did you hear that right? McLaggen wants to deliver me a 'right arse kicking'."

George, who had been leaning casually against the wall, looked up with a grin that matched Fred’s. He crossed his arms and took a step forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “An arse kicking, bloke?” he echoed, his tone full of sarcasm. “Oh, I do hope you’ve got more than just the threat of bad breath and an overinflated ego, McLaggen.”

The laughter between the twins only served to make Cormac’s face redden further, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. It was clear that the situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable for him, and yet, Fred and George didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Yeah, mate,” Fred continued, his voice dripping with amusement. “Not sure you’ve got the goods for that kind of threat. How about you take that bad attitude and go sulk somewhere else before you really embarrass yourself?”

There was a palpable tension in the room as Fred’s eyes locked onto Cormac’s, but despite the threat of violence, Fred seemed completely unfazed. He just stood there, his smirk wide and his posture so relaxed it was as though he was daring Cormac to take the first swing.

Cormac got closer, him and Fred almost nose to nose.

"Stay. Away. From Y/N."

Fred’s smirk didn’t falter, though there was a noticeable shift in the air. His posture didn’t tense, but there was a quiet intensity in his eyes now. He leaned forward just slightly, closing the gap between him and Cormac with a confidence that almost made it seem like he had all the time in the world.

“Make me,” Fred said softly, his voice low and almost casual, like the entire confrontation was a minor inconvenience. The challenge in his tone was unmistakable, daring Cormac to try something — anything.

Cormac’s face was mere inches from Fred’s, his breath hot and heavy in the silence that had enveloped them. For a moment, it seemed like neither of them would budge, like the tension was going to snap in a violent clash. But then Cormac’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, frustration evident in the sharpness of his jaw. He was seething, but Fred wasn’t backing down, wasn’t giving him an inch.

Finally, the dam broke.

Cormac lunged at Fred, but his friends were too quick, grabbing ahold of him. Your eyes widened.

Fred burst into laughter, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, my! The froggy did jump. Let him go, boys. Let's see what he can do, yeah?"

The tension in the room reached a fever pitch as Fred's challenge hung in the air. Cormac’s friends, clearly unsure, hesitated for a second before releasing him, but there was no mistaking the fury in his eyes. He was seething, ready to lash out, but Fred didn’t flinch.

Fred’s laughter rang out, loud and carefree, like he was genuinely enjoying this absurd situation. He stepped back a little, hands in the air as if to say, “Come on then.”

“Go on then, McLaggen,” Fred taunted, his tone light, as though he were merely encouraging a schoolyard squabble. “Show me what you’ve got. But don’t go crying to your mates when it doesn’t work out.”

You could feel the eyes of everyone around you, the whispers and the stares. Some of the students were backing away, not wanting to get caught in the middle of this. Fred’s confidence was unmatched, but you could also see the moment Cormac’s resolve started to crack.

Fred’s posture was still relaxed, his smirk in place, but there was something more now — the challenge had shifted. The onlookers were waiting to see if Cormac would actually follow through.

For a split second, Cormac looked like he was going to make a move. His hand twitched, as if contemplating it, but then he stopped. His chest heaved with anger, but his eyes were calculating now, as if trying to figure out if it was worth throwing the first punch.

Fred raised an eyebrow, mocking him. “What’s wrong, mate? Too scared to even throw a proper punch?”

Cormac’s face was a mask of fury, his pride clearly wounded. He looked like he was about to explode, but after a tense pause, he began to walk away.

"I want you back in the dorm by one, Y/N." He hissed. Then, he left.

The moment Cormac’s voice cut through the tension, it was like a cold splash of water. You were still frozen in place, your heart pounding in your chest. His words echoed in your mind — the command, the possessiveness. You felt your stomach twist, the anger bubbling up once more.

But Fred, as always, didn’t seem fazed. He leaned against the table casually, his arms crossed over his chest, looking after Cormac with a raised brow. “Is that right?” he muttered under his breath, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

The air was thick with the aftermath, the party resuming its usual hum of conversation, but the dynamic had changed. Everyone could feel it.

Fred turned his gaze back to you, his eyes softening, though the sharpness of the encounter still lingered in the air. “You don’t have to listen to him, you know.”

His words hung there, simple but loaded. You knew it wasn’t just about Cormac anymore. It was about what you wanted, what you were going to do next.

You met Fred’s eyes, trying to steady your racing heart. “I know.”

But even as you said it, part of you felt a strange pull, a sense of responsibility to Cormac’s words. You could feel the control he tried to exert over you, like a tight grip on your very being. It wasn’t right, but the thought of confrontation still made your stomach churn.

Fred didn’t push. He didn’t need to. He stood there, waiting, giving you the space to process.

After a long pause, you finally spoke, your voice quieter now. “I don’t want to go back to the dorm tonight.” It came out almost like a confession, and you immediately regretted it. But Fred’s gaze softened in understanding.

“Then don’t,” he said simply, a warmth creeping into his tone. “You’re not his to command, Y/N.”

His words were a reminder — not just that you were free, but that you deserved more. You deserved to make your own choices, to not be controlled by anyone.

You couldn’t help but feel the weight of that. Fred’s presence had shifted from playful to something deeper, something more protective and genuine.

Without a word, he reached out, offering his hand to you. His gaze didn’t leave yours as he waited, his smirk gone, replaced with something that spoke volumes.

“You’ve got options. You can stay in my dorm, or we can go somewhere else. Your call.”

The offer was simple, yet it felt like the world was in your hands. Cormac’s control, his possessiveness — it felt a lot smaller in comparison to the choice Fred was giving you now.

Ultimately, you decided to go to Fred's upon the promise that he'd sleep on the floor and you could have the bed.

When it was time, you crept up the stairs sneakily, knowing you weren't supposed to be there. Before you'd left, Hermione and Ginny winked at you, mouthing 'use protection'. As usual, you'd used the lame quote you always did.

"I have a boyfriend!"

You stepped into Fred’s dorm with a mix of nerves and curiosity fluttering in your chest. The room had the unmistakable scent of boy — a mix of broom polish, something vaguely like cinnamon, and just a hint of mischief. Quidditch posters were slightly crooked on the walls, a pair of socks hung from the corner of his bedpost, and a few Zonko’s wrappers were scattered on the floor like confetti after a prank well done.

Fred closed the door behind you with a quiet click, then turned, watching your expression closely. “Alright, I know it’s not exactly five-star,” he said, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, “but I promise the bed’s clean-ish. And I’m told the floor builds character.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the corners of your lips twitched up. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, you know.”

Fred raised a brow. “You’re not about to suggest we share, are you? Because that might make your boyfriend — sorry, our resident caveman — a bit twitchy.”

You laughed, the sound soft and surprising even to your own ears. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Fred said, flopping down on the bed for the moment and tossing a pillow to the floor like it was a throne, “you’re here.”

You stood there for a second longer than necessary, watching him. For all the jokes and smirks, there was something undeniably warm about him — like you were safe in a place you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

“I’m only here to avoid a fight,” you said, not really believing it yourself.

Fred looked at you, unbothered. “Then I hope it was worth sneaking past McGonagall and the protection squad.” He mimicked Ginny and Hermione’s voices with a dramatic flair: “‘Use protection!’ — honestly, I feel like they’re rooting for me.”

You groaned, pulling a pillow over your face. “I hate that I keep using that same excuse. I have a boyfriend… it sounds weaker every time I say it.”

Fred’s voice was quieter now. “Then stop saying it.”

The room fell into a soft silence.

You lifted the pillow just enough to peek at him. “That’s not fair.”

He met your gaze with something softer than a smirk. “Neither is the way he treats you.”

There was nothing flirty in his voice this time — no edge, no teasing. Just truth.

You could feel how close you were. His thighs were resting next to yours, only an inch from touching. You were sad you couldn't share the bed without it being wrong.

Fred must’ve felt it too — the closeness, the tension that wasn’t born from a fight or an argument, but from restraint. The unspoken something that had been hanging between you two for weeks now. Maybe months. Maybe longer.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence like a magnetic pull, and it wasn’t fair. Not because of the situation, or the rumors, or even the rules — but because being near him made you feel calm. Real. Understood. Something you didn’t even realize you’d been starving for.

“I hate this,” you whispered, not even sure if you meant the situation, your relationship with Cormac, or the fact that you couldn’t just... let yourself fall into this moment.

Fred didn’t move, but his voice came low. “What part?”

You hesitated. “The part where I have to keep pretending I don’t want more than this.”

He looked at you then — really looked. All the mischief and bravado faded in a blink. There was something in his eyes that made your breath catch, something heavy with meaning, but gentle too.

“You don’t have to pretend with me. I won't squeal.”

Your eyes softened. You felt yourself almost melting.

Fred leaned forward, almost testing how far you'd let him go.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away.

His hand found the edge of the bed, steadying himself, his knuckles brushing lightly against your knee. It wasn’t bold or pushy — it was cautious, careful, like he was giving you every opportunity to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

His eyes never left yours, and in them, you didn’t see a boy looking for a joke or a cheap thrill. You saw someone who meant it. Someone who knew exactly what you were risking and was willing to meet you there anyway — with patience, with warmth, with that steady, maddening confidence he always wore so well.

“You sure?” he asked, voice a whisper now, nearly swallowed by the hush of the room. “Because once I know you want this too… I don’t think I can go back to pretending either.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you reached out, fingers barely ghosting over his wrist — and that was all he needed.

Fred closed the space between you, slow and certain, his forehead gently resting against yours. No kiss. Not yet. Just that shared breath, that promise suspended in the air.

"I don't think I've ever felt this way in my life."

Fred let out the softest breath, like the weight of your words had struck something deep inside him — something real. His fingers brushed your knee again, this time more firmly, grounding himself as he searched your eyes.

“Me either,” he admitted, his voice barely audible, like speaking too loud might break the moment.

His thumb skimmed your wrist, tracing slow, reverent circles as he kept his forehead against yours. “It’s not just a crush. Not some passing thing. I feel it — here.” He moved your hand gently, placing it flat over his chest where his heart thudded steadily beneath your palm. “Every time I see you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty — it was full. Full of every glance, every smirk, every quiet moment you’d shared that hadn’t made sense until now.

Fred leaned back just enough to look you in the eyes again, searching for the final piece of permission. His voice cracked just slightly when he whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

Fuck it.

"Please?" You asked, your voice a quiet whimper.

That was all it took.

Fred closed the distance without hesitation, one hand coming up to cradle your cheek with such care it made your heart ache. His lips met yours gently at first, like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth, the feeling of finally having you this close. It wasn’t rushed — it was reverent. A kiss years in the making, built from tension, longing, and all the moments you’d spent denying it.

But once it started, there was no going back.

The second kiss was deeper, slower but more desperate — his fingers slipping into your hair, your hands clinging to his shirt. It was like something had finally broken free between you, and now that it had, neither of you could stop. The need in the room shifted from hesitant to hungry in an instant.

Fred pulled back only slightly, his forehead pressed against yours again, lips brushing as he spoke. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that — instead I got to watch moments like this wasted on some talentless git."

He kissed you again before you could respond — soft, then firm, like he couldn’t get enough. His voice came in a breathless whisper against your lips: “Say the word and I’ll stop, yeah?”

You didn’t say a word.

Instead, you pulled him back in with a grip that left no room for doubt. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as you kissed him harder, need surging like a flood. Fred groaned softly into your mouth — a low, desperate sound that seemed to vibrate right through you — before his hands found your waist, tugging you into his lap like you belonged there.

You did.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, his touch suddenly more urgent, more claiming. His mouth moved along your jaw, down to the edge of your throat, where he lingered with soft, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch. “You have no idea,” he murmured against your skin, “how mad you make me, every time you call that idiot your boyfriend.”

His hands ran under the hem of your shirt now, slow and reverent even in the heat of it all, like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you this way.

Fred's hands paused just beneath the fabric, fingertips brushing your bare skin like he was memorizing the feel of you. His breath was hot against your neck, the restraint in his movements contrasting the intensity of the moment. He didn’t rush. He didn’t push.

“You shouldn’t have to settle for someone who only wants to own you,” he whispered, lips brushing your collarbone. “You deserve to be worshipped.”

Your heart pounded at his words — not because of the heat, but the sincerity behind them. Fred didn’t just want you. He saw you. All of you. Every piece you’d tucked away, every part Cormac had ignored or tried to control — Fred was holding you like none of that scared him.

He pulled back enough to meet your gaze again, thumbs still stroking lazy circles into your hips. “I meant what I said. You call the shots. We stop whenever you say.”

His voice was still low, husky with want — but his eyes held nothing but respect, waiting for your permission, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

You felt yourself squirm under his touch, the heat between your legs almost becoming uncomfortable. You weren’t even sure if you’d feel guilty for doing this anymore. Fred was the most exquisite thing you’d ever tasted, a forbidden fruit.

Fred noticed the way you moved against him, the quiet, involuntary squirm, and his hands tightened slightly at your hips — not to restrain, but to ground. His lips parted like he was about to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze dark and reverent, as if he could already feel the shift in you, the slow unraveling of hesitation.

“I want to take care of you. Will you let me, love?” He asked, his brown eyes darker than ever.

Your breath caught at the tenderness in his voice — the contrast between his raw need and the reverence in his words made your heart ache. There was no arrogance in the way Fred looked at you now, no teasing or bravado. Just a quiet, aching sincerity. Like this had never been about just desire — it had always been about you.

You nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Please.”

Fred smirked, the hands on your hips lifting only to slide under the waistband of your skirt. “That’s my girl.”

You shuddered as his rough, Quidditch conditioned hands met the skin below your belly button, your e/c eyes glued onto him. The brisk air flooded your hips, thighs, and legs as he pulled the skirt off.

He tossed it to the floor quickly, his eyes raking over your body in awe.

“You’re gorgeous. Absolutely bloody perfect.”

His thick fingers trailed along the waistband of your underwear, toying with the thin fabric. He eyed the wet patch on the front, an amused smile on his lips.

“Betcha Cormac McLaggen never caused this mess, hm?”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to close your legs. He pushed them back open, chuckling.

Quickly, he tugged your panties down your legs too, his eyes darkening even further at the sight of you. Your pussy was perfect, glistening in the dim light of the moon. He ran a finger down the length of it, watching your essence collect onto it.

You exhaled, the cold breath hitting Fred.

“Pretty. So, so pretty.”

Before you knew it, Fred was repositioning himself, his body sliding down the rest of the bed. He positions himself between your thighs, pushing them further apart. His eyes look eagerly up at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Gonna take care of you, yeah? Show you an unselfish bloke, since you’ve never seen one.”

You could’ve cried.

With a firm squeeze on your thigh, he dives in.

He licks a thick stripe up the middle of your heat, eliciting a moan from your lips immediately. You could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle against you — you definitely felt the vibration of it.

He laps at you eagerly, like a dog that just found water in the desert. Your clit gets most of the attention, but he occasionally goes where your essence has collected most, cleaning you up as he works.

“Oh my Merlin—” you gasp, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as your hand trails down to him, threading through his hair without even thinking.

This only pushes him further. He focuses on the most sensitive part of you, the cute little bundle of nerves, until you feel like you could pass out.

All it takes it one more push. He sucks at you, a loud sluuuurp, just enough pressure.

You come undone immediately, a lewd moan leaving your lips. You’d almost be embarrassed at how quick it was if you could even think.

“Fred!”

He doesn’t stop, leading you through your release. Your hips buck as you attempt to push him off, but his broad hand forces your hips down.

All that’s left now is to clean you up. He can’t let you go to waste.

Licking up every drop of cum you’d let slip, he came up off from you. The lower part of his face glistens sinfully.

Your jaw is still wide open in both bliss and disbelief as you look at him, a loud exhale exiting your mouth.

Quickly, as if it was perfectly normal, a typical part of his evening, he wiped your release from his face and sucked it from his fingers, humming gratefully.

He looked down at you with a lazy, satisfied grin, eyes soft but gleaming with something deeper. “See?” he murmured, brushing your hair from your face with the gentlest touch. “That’s what you deserve, love. Not the bloody Quidditch mascot.”

You laughed, breathless and flushed, your brain fuzzy.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Fred let out a dramatic groan and threw his head back against the pillow. “Merlin’s bloody beard, not again.”

You giggled, half buried in his chest, still breathless and dazed. “It’s a reflex at this point.”

He turned his head to look at you, one brow raised and a teasing smirk forming on his lips. “Yeah? Well, reflex or not, love, you really need to update your status. Because your boyfriend didn’t make you sound like that.” His fingers traced lazy circles over your spine. “I did.”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself closer to him. He wraps his arms around you tightly, curling you into his chest.

“Goodnight, Weasley. You’ve turned me into a sinner.”

Fred chuckled, the sound low and warm against your ear as he buried his face in your hair. “Then I’ll happily be the reason you fall from grace,” he murmured, voice laced with something both teasing and devastatingly sincere.

His arms tightened around you as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Sleep. I’ve got you.”

The warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart, and the fading ache of the night’s confessions lulled you into a peace you hadn’t felt in ages. And for once, you didn’t care about tomorrow — not about guilt, not about consequences.

The next morning, you still felt the same. No guilt. No shame. That’s how you knew for sure that your relationship with Cormac had run its course and that you needed to end it — ASAP.

And after his brutish behavior the other night, what better way was there to break it to him but through the very Weasley that had shown you the greener grass on the other side?

You entered the Great Hall, Fred’s arm thrown around your shoulder.

You didn’t even try to hide the smug satisfaction bubbling beneath your skin.

Fred was relaxed, smirking like he knew exactly the kind of storm you were about to unleash. His arm hung heavy around your shoulders, protective and possessive in a way that was unmistakably deliberate. You leaned into it — not for the drama, but because it felt good. Right.

The hum of morning chatter in the Great Hall dulled the second you walked in. Heads turned. Students smiled, cheered even. And at the Gryffindor table, Cormac McLaggen froze mid-bite, eyes narrowing as they locked onto the two of you.

You gave him a look that was cool, almost bored. “McLaggen,” you said lightly, as though you were passing a stranger on the street.

Fred didn’t stop walking, guiding you toward your usual spot like nothing was amiss. But as you slid onto the bench beside him, his arm stayed firmly in place, and his hand brushed your shoulder with just enough intimacy to make the message clear.

Cormac was already on his feet. “What the hell is this?”

Fred looked up at him with a smile that was too calm to be kind. “This?” He gestured lazily between you. “This is her making a better choice.”

Cormac’s jaw clenched. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” you cut in, voice steady, unfazed. “We’re over, Cormac. As of last night, officially. Your behavior lately? That was the last straw.”

He looked between you and Fred, fuming. “So you’re just gonna — what? Run off with him?”

You didn’t blink. “No, I walked away from you. And he was already standing there.”

Fred leaned back, hands behind his head now, relaxed as ever. “She simply decided she preferred gingers. And blokes that don’t pretend to be good at Quidditch. And blokes that brush their teeth.”

The Gryffindor table burst into scattered laughter, a few muffled snorts and gasps echoing down the line. Even George, two seats away, choked on his pumpkin juice, coughing into his sleeve with a wide-eyed, delighted grin.

Cormac’s face flushed a deep, angry red, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is funny?” he snapped, eyes locked on Fred. “You think you can just take her from me and humiliate me in front of everyone?”

Fred didn’t move, his tone still maddeningly casual. “Mate, I didn’t take anything. You lost her all on your own. I just happened to be the better option when the dust settled.”

You saw it — the twitch in Cormac’s jaw, the way his shoulders squared as if ready to swing. But this time, Fred’s eyes sharpened, just a little.

“Don’t,” he warned, his smile fading just enough to let the tension creep in again. “I’d hate to embarrass you twice in one week.”

Cormac turned, glaring.

“Whatever. I deserve better than some stupid slag, anyway.”

Fred was on his feet before anyone else could react.

There was no teasing in his expression now — no witty retorts, no lopsided smirk. Just pure, cold fury. The kind that silenced the whole hall in an instant.

“What are you—”

Fred’s fist connected with Cormac’s jaw before the insult could fully leave his mouth.

The sound was sickening — a sharp crack that echoed through the Great Hall like a thunderclap. Heads turned. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Even the enchanted ceiling seemed to flicker for a moment, as if the castle itself recoiled from the blow.

Cormac stumbled back, dazed, clutching his face with wide eyes and bleeding pride. He didn’t fall — not quite — but the damage was clear: his lip was split, and his ego shattered.

Fred didn’t follow it up. He stood over Cormac, shoulders heaving, eyes burning. “Long overdue, you absolute waste of space prat,” he growled. “Try that shit again and see what you get next, mate.”

McGonagall’s voice suddenly rang through the hall like a whip. “Mr. Weasley!”

Fred didn’t flinch. He only turned slightly, shielding you behind him again with a hand at your hip. “Sorry, Professor,” he said, still glaring at Cormac. “Slipped.”

—

The tension from the Great Hall carried all the way into detention, where Fred now sat slumped at a desk in an empty classroom, idly tossing a quill from one hand to the other. He looked more annoyed than remorseful — not at the punishment, but at the hour wasted inside instead of with you.

The door creaked open.

He glanced up — and there you were.

McGonagall had given you permission. She was an advocator for women, and you’d explained the entire situation to her. She was slightly reluctant, but ended up letting you enter with a ‘just this once’ slipping from her lips.

“You’re not in trouble,” he said, brow lifting in amused confusion as you shut the door behind you.

“No,” you teased, strolling toward him. “Figured if you’re gonna sit here sulking, I might as well brighten the place up a bit.”

Fred grinned, eyes following your every step as you hopped up to sit on the desk in front of him, legs swinging playfully. He reached towards your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I can’t believe I can call you my girlfriend now. Never thought I’d see the day you gave up on the bench warmer.”

You smirked, gently nudging Fred with your knee as he leaned forward, resting his chin on your thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Gave up on him the moment I realized I was already in love with the guy who actually showed up for me,” you said, fingers sliding through his hair.

Fred beamed, practically glowing. “So you’re saying I’m your hero? Finally getting the credit I deserve?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fond smile tugging at your lips. “More like my very chaotic, very ginger hero who got detention for punching my ex.”

Fred looked far too pleased with that title.

“Don’t forget, love. I also devoured his girlfriend in my bed two doors down from him.”

You raised your eyebrows, laughing as you lightly smacked his shoulder. “Fred!”

He grinned shamelessly, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. “What? Just making sure history remembers me properly.”

You shook your head, but the smile on your face wouldn’t budge. “You’re unbelievable.”

Fred leaned in, brushing his nose against yours, voice dipping to something softer. “And yet… you still chose me.”

You exhaled, heart full. “Yeah. I did.”

And as he kissed you — slow, certain, and impossibly warm — you realized that, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t regret a single thing.

[theodorenmyth]

more theo angst!! please!!

The Once Brightest Star

Pairings ; Theodore Nott x M!Reader

Summary ; You, the kindest Gryffindor at Hogwarts, fall for Theodore Nott—unaware that he’s only dating you because of a cruel Slytherin bet. After four sweet, star-filled months, he breaks your heart in front of everyone. The smile that once lit up the castle fades, and as you fall apart, Theodore realizes too late that he truly loves you.

A/N ; try not to cry 😉. I swear to fucking merlin if this flops I'm killing myself, THIS FANFIC IS LITERALLY THE MOST CHAOTIC ONE. My Tumblr kept crashing, my shit wasn't saving and oh my god it was war.

Warnings ; Heavy angst, betrayal, public humiliation, emotional manipulation, mental health themes, and regret.

Word count; 6.1k+

| Part 2 — Part 3 | drabble

Theodore Nott had always been a mystery. Quiet, observant, charming when he wanted to be, but cruel when it suited him. And right now, he was seated in the Slytherin common room, legs crossed on a leather armchair as the firelight danced across his sharp features. Around him lounged the usual suspects—Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Pansy Parkinson, and Astoria Greengass. They sat in a semicircle, all eyes focused on Theo, the air thick with amusement and cruel curiosity.

They were bored. And when the Slytherin elite were bored, it meant trouble for someone else.

“You know,” Mattheo began, twirling a silver coin between his fingers, “we haven’t had a proper laugh since Halloween. I’m starting to forget what entertainment feels like.”

“Speak for yourself,” Pansy said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I laughed so hard when that Hufflepuff girl tripped over her own robes last week.”

“That wasn’t entertainment, Pans,” Blaise drawled, his voice like silk and sin. “That was just sad.”

“We need something juicy,” Astoria said, glancing at her manicured nails. “Something cruel.”

Lorenzo smirked. “How about Gryffindor’s sweetheart?”

All heads turned.

“You mean Y/N?” Draco asked, arching a brow. “The one who helped you clean up after you accidentally hexed yourself in Transfiguration?”

“Exactly,” Lorenzo said, grinning. “He’s so bloody kind it makes me sick.”

“He helped me too,” Blaise admitted with a smirk. “Carried my books to the infirmary when I got hit by a rogue Bludger. Didn’t even ask for anything in return.”

Mattheo leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “That’s it then. We ruin him.”

“Subtly,” Pansy added, smiling cruelly. “We’re Slytherins. Not brutes.”

“What do you have in mind?” Theodore asked, though his voice held more interest than caution.

Mattheo grinned like the devil himself. “A bet. You, Theo. You’re going to date him.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”

“Because he already looks at you like you hung the stars,” Blaise said, chuckling. “You’re halfway there.”

“And you’ve got the charm,” Astoria added. “When you want to, anyway.”

Theodore stayed quiet for a moment, letting the idea settle.

“A hundred galleons from each of us,” Mattheo said smoothly. “All you have to do is date him. Four months. Then dump him—publicly.”

“In front of everyone,” Draco emphasized, voice tinged with excitement. “Make sure the whole school sees it.”

“That’ll break him,” Pansy said, practically purring.

“His friends will try to put him back together,” Astoria added, “but we’ll know he’s never going to be the same.”

Theodore looked into the fire, jaw tightening. One hundred galleons from each of them. That was six hundred galleons. Enough to make anyone pause. Enough to make even him consider it.

He thought of your smile—the way it made you look like you didn’t belong in the same world as the rest of them. Of how you always had something kind to say, even to those who sneered at you. Of how you held the door open for professors, offered help to Hufflepuffs with their potions, even greeted Slytherins with a gentle nod instead of fear or judgment.

“Four months?” Theodore asked.

“Four,” Mattheo confirmed.

“Then I’ll do it,” Theodore said, the words leaving his mouth cold and smooth.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Draco said, grinning wide.

And just like that, the countdown began.

You were sitting in the Astronomy Tower when it happened. Late evening, starlight dusting your skin as you scribbled notes in your parchment. A breeze blew through your robes, and you tilted your head back to admire the sky. The cold stone beneath you was oddly comforting, grounding you as your eyes scanned the stars like they were old friends.

“There you are,” a voice said behind you.

You turned, startled but quickly relaxing. “Theodore?”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed but gaze soft. “Mind if I join you?”

You smiled without hesitation. “Of course not.”

He walked over and sat beside you, his cloak brushing yours as he settled on the ledge. For a moment, the two of you said nothing. The only sounds were the distant hooting of an owl and the wind howling gently through the gaps in the stone.

Then you pointed toward the sky, eyes sparkling. “See that one? That’s Orion. He’s my favorite.”

Theodore tilted his head slightly, following your finger. “Why?”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and spoke like you’d been waiting for someone to ask. “Because no matter where you are in the world, Orion’s always there. It doesn’t matter if you’re in England or the other side of the planet. He’s a constant.” Your voice softened. “I think that’s beautiful.”

He watched you, not the stars. The way your eyes reflected the constellations, the way your words carried a weight most people overlooked. You weren’t just looking at the sky. You were connected to it.

“You’re into all this space stuff, huh?” he said with a small smirk.

You grinned. “I love it. The stars, the planets, galaxies—do you know how long it takes for light from some of these stars to reach us?”

“No,” he replied truthfully.

“Hundreds of years,” you said. “Some of the stars we see? They’ve already died. We’re looking at ghosts in the sky.”

Theodore looked up, suddenly seeing it all a bit differently. “That’s… kind of haunting.”

You chuckled. “Isn’t it? But I think it’s comforting, too. Like, even after they’re gone, they still leave something behind. A trace of who they were. They don’t just disappear.”

He glanced sideways at you. “You talk about stars like they’re people.”

You shrugged. “Maybe they are. Maybe we all are. Bright for a while, then gone… but if we’re lucky, we leave something behind.”

A silence settled over you both again, this time warm.

Peaceful.

You turned your body to face him more. “What about you? Do you have a favorite constellation?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I stare at the sky often?”

You laughed. “Not really. But you should. It’s a good reminder that we’re small. And that some things are bigger than our problems.”

He hummed in response. “I guess I wouldn’t mind if you were teaching me.”

That made your cheeks burn. You looked down at your hands, fiddling with the corner of your parchment. “Really?”

He leaned in a little closer. “Yeah. You're… interesting.”

You bit your bottom lip, then smiled, shyly. “I’d be happy to teach you. The stars have a lot to say if you just listen.”

As you returned your gaze to the sky, pointing out Cassiopeia with soft enthusiasm, Theodore only half-listened. The other half of him was watching you again—how your lips moved, how your hands danced in the air as you explained, how your eyes never lost that wonder.

And for just a second… he forgot about the bet.

You started waiting for him outside his classes, always with a soft smile and something sweet tucked in your hand—sometimes a chocolate frog, other times a sugar quill you’d saved from Honeydukes. You’d greet him like he was the only person in the corridor, eyes lighting up every time he met your gaze.

You shared your pumpkin pasties with him in the library, giggling when Madam Pince shushed you both for laughing too loud. You’d lean close as you showed him the notes you'd made for Astronomy, doodles of constellations dancing in the margins. He'd pretend not to notice how your hand always lingered near his, how your shoulder brushed his when you got excited explaining the moons of Jupiter.

You invited him to your late-night Astronomy sessions more and more, always at the top of the tower where the stars were clearest. And every time, he showed up. No matter how cold the wind was, no matter how tired he claimed to be, Theodore would appear with his hands shoved into his pockets and that unreadable look on his face—like he wasn’t sure if he belonged there… but he stayed anyway.

And slowly, your hand began brushing against his. At first accidental. Then deliberate. You started laughing softer around him, voice a little breathier, eyes a little shinier. You bit your lip when he stared too long, cheeks dusted pink whenever he complimented you—rare as it was.

You started hoping.

You introduced him to your friends when he passed by your table, and though Hermione watched him suspiciously and Ron narrowed his eyes, you always waved it off. “He’s not like the others,” you said more than once. “He’s… different.”

You even helped a few Slytherins who sneered at you in the halls, offered your hand when one tripped, walked another to the Hospital Wing when he’d gotten hexed during practice. You greeted Blaise when you passed him in the corridor, waved at Astoria during breakfast even if she never waved back, and offered Mattheo a chocolate frog once—which he took without a thank you, but you still smiled anyway.

And Theodore noticed.

He noticed everything.

“You’re too kind,” he told you one night, as you sat beside the lake. The moonlight shimmered on the surface, and your reflection glowed faintly beside his.

You looked up, confused. “Like what?”

“Good,” he said, quieter this time. “Even to people who don’t deserve it.”

You gave him that warm, unshakeable smile. “Because… no one deserves to be treated like they’re nothing. Not even the meanest ones. Everyone’s got something good inside them. Sometimes it just takes longer to show.”

Theodore stared at you, jaw tense. Something in his chest tightened—foreign and unwelcome. This wasn’t part of the plan. You were supposed to fall for him, not the other way around. You were supposed to be just another naive Gryffindor. Not someone he actually looked forward to seeing every night. Not someone who made his heart feel like it was on fire.

But your laugh stayed with him long after you left. So did the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the stars. So did the way you always remembered the tiniest things about him—even things he didn’t think mattered.

This was still just a game. Right?

Wasn’t it?

It was late—well past curfew—but that never stopped you. Especially not when the stars were this clear. You were already seated on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, legs swinging slightly over the edge, a thick wool scarf wrapped loosely around your neck. The wind was cold, but your heart was warm—because he was here. Just like always.

Theodore leaned against the railing beside you, arms crossed and silent as usual. You didn’t mind. He rarely talked up here. That was your job.

“And that one right there,” you said, pointing upward with gloved fingers, “is Sirius. It’s the brightest star in the night sky—not a planet, not a reflection, an actual star. It’s about twenty-five times more luminous than the sun. Isn’t that insane?”

You looked at him, expecting a smirk, maybe a raised brow or some teasing comment. But instead, you were met with eyes so unreadable, they made your chest tighten.

Undeterred, you smiled and turned your attention back to the sky. “Stars are so dramatic, honestly. They burn themselves out just to shine. And when they die, they explode. Huge, fiery tantrums in space. Makes you wonder if the universe is just full of drama queens.”

That got a faint exhale of amusement from Theodore. You grinned at the sound and kept going.

“I think that’s why I love them so much. They’re loud in their silence. You look up and it’s peaceful, but the science behind them? It’s chaos. Energy and gas and gravity ripping them apart.” You leaned your head back until your hair brushed the stone. “It’s kind of beautiful, really. How something so far away can make you feel like you’re not alone.”

You went quiet then, eyes searching the constellations. Theodore watched you. Watched the way your smile softened when you looked at the sky, the way you hugged your knees in the cold, the way your breath curled in the night air like clouds.

He had come here tonight to play the part. Listen to you ramble about planets and stars like you always did. Maybe hold your hand. Maybe lean just a little closer so you’d fall a little harder.

But when you turned to him with that pure, trusting light in your eyes—the one that made him feel seen without even trying—his resolve crumbled.

You were still speaking, something about Orion’s Belt, when Theodore took a step forward. Then another.

You trailed off mid-sentence, confused, your brows knitting. “Theo?”

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at you—really looked at you—like the stars weren’t even worth glancing at when you were here. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out.

His hand was cool against your skin as he gently cupped your cheek.

You froze.

His thumb brushed your jaw, and for once, you were the quiet one. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him.

And then—without warning, without fanfare—he kissed you.

His lips were soft and slow, like he was trying to memorize the moment. Your eyes fluttered shut, your heart thundering in your chest as you kissed him back. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry. It was gentle.

The kind of kiss that says I see you. I hear you. I’m here.

When he pulled away, your eyes were wide and dazed. “W-What was that?” you whispered.

Theodore hesitated. He was supposed to lie. Say it was for fun, for practice, a joke, a dare. But none of those things left his mouth.

“I like you,” he said instead, his voice low, but honest.

You stared at him, eyes shining like the stars above. “You do?”

He nodded, brushing his thumb beneath your eye. “More than I expected to.”

And just like that, your world shifted.

You smiled—so big and bright and beautiful. “I’ve liked you for ages,” you admitted, cheeks flushed. “I just didn’t think you’d ever—”

“I do,” he interrupted softly. “I see you, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched. “Then… will you be mine?”

He leaned in again, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah. I’m yours.”

And in your chest, a supernova of joy bloomed.

You didn’t know, of course, that the clock was already ticking. That the countdown had begun the moment he shook Mattheo’s hand.

All you knew was that Theodore Nott—cool, quiet, untouchable—was kissing you beneath the stars.

And for the first time in your life, you felt infinite.

It was strange, the way Theodore made everything feel like magic without ever casting a single spell.

You never expected it, really. You were the sweet Gryffindor who brought extra quills for your classmates, helped first-years find their classes, and got detention once because you refused to leave a Hufflepuff behind after they’d twisted their ankle on the moving staircase. You were the soft-spoken stargazer who waved to portraits and always left the Astronomy Tower a little warmer than you found it.

And Theodore Nott? Cold, composed, distant. A Slytherin with a stare so sharp it could cut glass, and a mouth that rarely moved unless it was to cast sarcasm or smoke. If anyone had told you a few months ago that he of all people would be watching the stars with you, you'd have laughed. But now?

Now he was the one tugging your scarf tighter when the wind bit too sharply. The one saving a seat for you at lunch—even at the Gryffindor table, when he thought no one was looking. The one who said your name like it was something secret.

Your dates weren’t grand or loud. They weren’t meant for show. They were quiet things—hidden smiles, fingers brushing beneath library tables, the sound of his laugh when you made some ridiculous astronomy pun that no one else would understand.

Like that late afternoon in the library.

You were supposed to be revising for Herbology, but you’d started doodling constellations in the margins of your notes. Theodore watched, lounging in the chair beside you, one hand resting beneath his chin.

“That one looks like a rat,” he said lazily.

You gasped. “That’s not a rat! That’s Scorpius! It’s one of the oldest constellations in the sky!”

He smirked. “Looks like a rodent with extra limbs.”

“You’re a menace,” you huffed, swatting his arm with your parchment.

He grabbed your wrist mid-swat and pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a lazy kiss to your knuckles. “Mm. You’re dramatic when you're passionate. It’s kind of cute.”

You froze.

“I—I'm not dramatic!” you blurted.

Theodore only grinned, smug and soft all at once, and leaned back like he hadn’t just melted your brain with a single sentence.

────────────────

There was also that snowy Saturday in Hogsmeade. It had started out innocent—you just wanted to get a new astronomy journal and maybe a few peppermint candies. But somehow Theodore ended up holding your mittened hand, leading you through snow-covered cobblestones like he actually knew what he was doing.

“I swear the tea shop is this way,” he said, tugging you down a narrow alley that looked suspiciously abandoned.

“You said that three turns ago,” you teased, breath clouding in the cold air.

“Maybe I just want more time alone with you.”

That shut you up.

The shop, when you finally reached it, was small and tucked behind a row of bakeries. The inside was all fogged windows and velvet chairs, the scent of cinnamon and clove clinging to the air. The shopkeeper—a kind-eyed older woman—beamed when she saw Theodore.

“Haven’t seen you in ages, dear,” she said, passing him two steaming mugs. “This must be someone special.”

Theodore didn’t look at you. “He is.”

You nearly choked on your tea.

────────────────

Back in the castle, the sweetness didn’t stop. If anything, it bloomed.

He’d wait for you after class, leaning against the wall like some kind of gothic statue, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded—but when you appeared, his gaze softened.

He started showing up to Astronomy Club. He never answered a single question, never even looked at the night sky. He just sat beside you, letting his knee press against yours under the desk, his fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve.

“I like it when you talk about the stars,” he murmured once, just loud enough for you to hear. “You get this look. Like you’ve been touched by something ancient.”

You blinked. “That’s… oddly poetic for you.”

“I have layers,” he said dryly. “Don’t get used to it.”

You did get used to it, though. The way he’d look at you when you were excited. The way he’d tug your scarf over your mouth and say it was 'so you’d shut up,' but his eyes always lingered a little too long. The way his thumb would brush your hand like he needed to remember how you felt.

And at night—always at night—you returned to your tower.

The Astronomy Tower had become yours. The castle was huge, full of secrets and dungeons and ghosts, but that little piece of sky belonged to just the two of you.

You’d bring blankets and stolen sweets from the kitchens. He’d bring silence and something steadier than starlight.

You’d talk for hours, your voice dancing through the night air.

“And those tiny dots in Orion’s Belt?” you said one night, pointing up at the cluster of stars. “Those are actually part of a nebula—the birthplace of stars. Literal nurseries in the cosmos.”

Theodore hummed, laying on his back with your head on his chest. “Nurseries in the sky… Sounds like a fairytale.”

“Maybe the universe is one big story.”

He didn’t answer right away.

You tilted your head. “What are you thinking about?”

He looked down at you, eyes tired and soft. “That I’m scared.”

Your brows furrowed. “Of what?”

“Of ruining this. Of being the reason that light in your eyes goes out.”

Your heart cracked open like a geode, glittering and aching all at once. You sat up slowly, cupping his face with your hands.

“You won’t ruin it, Theo.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t need to know that. I just… I trust you.”

He exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch.

You kissed him then—slow and sure, your thumb brushing along his cheek.

“I trust you,” you whispered again, as if it could protect you both.

And Theodore? He held you tighter.

Even though something inside him whispered that he didn’t deserve it.

────────────────

There were so many perfect moments that winter.

Like the time you were sitting on the Quidditch stands long after practice had ended. Snow was falling, light and gentle, and you were tucked under his cloak, sharing body heat.

You were talking about Saturn’s rings—how they weren’t solid, just ice and rock suspended in orbit.

“They only look solid from far away,” you said, tracing lines on his palm. “Up close, they’re just chaos. Fragments. Debris.”

“Sounds like me,” Theodore murmured.

You looked up. “What?”

“I look fine from far away,” he said. “But I’m a mess when you get close.”

You frowned and pressed your forehead to his. “You’re not a mess. You’re just… layered.”

He chuckled. “You always see the best in people.”

“Only the ones worth seeing.”

And that time, when he kissed you, it was with both hands cradling your face, like he was trying to memorize it. Like maybe he already knew he’d have to let go someday.

────────────────

He was falling in love with you.

And maybe… maybe you were already there.

You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on you when you walked away. You didn’t know he’d stopped counting the galleons in his head weeks ago. That the whispers from his so-called friends were starting to grate, not amuse.

That the bet—the stupid, cruel bet—felt like a chain around his throat now.

But you loved him. Fully, fiercely, like a shooting star that refused to burn out.

And for a while, he let himself believe he could love you back forever.

Even if time was running out.

You woke up that morning with a smile on your face.

There was still a shimmer of stardust in your thoughts from the night before—wrapped in Theodore’s arms in the Astronomy Tower, your head on his shoulder, the constellations above whispering secrets only you could understand. You'd traced his knuckles with your thumb, whispering about the Kissing Stars and how they only align once every few years. He hadn’t said much, but he’d looked at you like you mattered.

Like you were his.

So you’d walked to the Great Hall with your chest light and your cheeks warm, clutching a folded piece of parchment with a scribbled drawing of the stars. You’d written his name in them. You were going to give it to him today—your little way of saying I love you, even if you hadn’t said it out loud yet.

When you stepped inside, the usual noise greeted you—students laughing, talking, eating. But something felt… off.

The Slytherin table was watching you.

No, waiting for you.

Blaise leaned into Draco’s ear, whispering something that made him choke on his pumpkin juice. Pansy was already giggling. Mattheo didn’t even pretend to hide his shit-eating grin. And Theodore—

Theodore sat there with his arms folded, cold eyes fixed on you like you were something disposable. Unrecognizable. The warmth was gone.

Still, you smiled and made your way over, ignoring the tension. “Theo, hey,” you said sweetly, gently bumping his arm as you sat beside him. “Guess what? I found another constellation last night—it looked like a fox! I named it after you—clever and charming and—”

“Stop talking.”

The words were quiet. Sharp.

You blinked, your smile faltering. “What?”

“I said stop talking.” He turned to you fully, face devoid of anything tender. “Merlin, do you ever fucking shut up?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

A hush began to fall over the Great Hall.

Students slowed their chewing. Conversations dulled. Even the teachers seemed to sense something was about to happen.

“I—I was just telling you about the stars—”

“I don’t care about the stars,” he snapped. “Or your stupid constellations. I never did.”

Your face paled.

“Theo… what are you saying?”

He stood then, loud and deliberate, pushing back from the bench like you’d said something disgusting. “I’m saying I’m done pretending.”

Every table went silent.

He stepped in front of you, towering. Cold. Cruel.

“The only reason I ever gave you the time of day was because of a bet.” His voice was clear. Loud. Unapologetic. “Four months. That’s all you were. Four months, 600 galleons, and a joke.”

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t even breathe.

Your whole body froze as the Slytherins behind him burst out laughing.

“Fucking finally!” Mattheo crowed. “I thought you were gonna crack and kiss his forehead again, lover boy.”

Draco howled. “Can you believe the idiot fell for it? I mean—stars? Really?”

“Oh, the way he blushed whenever Theo held his hand,” Astoria cooed mockingly. “He was practically wagging his tail.”

Theodore kept his eyes on you.

There was a flicker of regret. A shadow of guilt.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him from saying:

“You’re pathetic, Y/N.”

The words hit harder than any hex.

You flinched, visibly, the parchment slipping from your hand. It fluttered to the floor—your sketch of the stars and his name shining in them—forgotten.

Theodore kept going.

“You followed me around like a stray mutt. Always smiling. Always fucking talking about your precious constellations like I gave a damn. You thought I actually cared? That we were real?”

Your lips trembled. You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

You wanted to scream. To cry. To ask him why.

Why?

Why he kissed you. Why he held you in the dark and let you dream. Why he made you believe you were enough.

Instead, all you whispered was, “I loved you.”

The laughter died.

Even the Slytherins blinked, some shifting uncomfortably.

Theodore faltered—but only for a moment. And that was the worst part.

He hesitated.

He had the chance to stop this. To take it back.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he looked you dead in the eyes and said, “Well, I never did.”

And just like that—your heart shattered.

Not like glass. Not like something quick or clean.

It broke slowly.

Painfully.

You felt it crack, piece by piece, like the universe was pulling every star you ever loved from the sky and crushing it in front of you.

Hermione was the first to stand.

“That’s enough!” she snapped, voice shaking with fury. “You—you monster!”

Ron and Harry were already moving, storming toward the Slytherin table, wands halfway drawn.

But you didn’t move.

You sat there, shaking, broken, and humiliated. The bright Gryffindor everyone adored—now just a ghost.

And then you stood.

Not because you wanted to.

Because you had to.

You walked away slowly, footsteps heavy, heart in ruins. You didn’t even look at him as you passed. You couldn’t. You were afraid if you saw his face again, you'd crumble completely.

You reached the doors just as Harry called out, “Y/N! Please—wait!”

Ron's voice cracked. “He’s not worth it! Please, come back!”

But you kept walking.

And when you were gone—truly gone—the Great Hall stayed quiet.

Theodore sat back down, but he didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. He looked at the parchment still lying on the floor.

His name.

In the stars.

And for the first time in years, he felt truly, utterly, alone.

Meanwhile, you ran.

Up the stairs. Past portraits that whispered in concern. Past a group of Hufflepuffs who stepped aside, mouths agape at the wreckage written on your face.

You didn’t stop until you reached the Astronomy Tower.

And there, with the cold wind biting your skin and your knees giving out beneath you, you finally collapsed.

Your cries echoed against the stone. The sky above, once your favorite comfort, felt like a cruel reminder. You looked up through blurry eyes, searching for the stars you loved so dearly.

But they didn’t shine the same anymore.

Not now.

Not after him.

It started with silence.

And not the peaceful kind—the kind that swells and settles like a storm cloud just before it breaks. You didn’t speak the next day. Or the day after that. You barely looked at anyone.

The once-bright boy who used to laugh at breakfast, pass out candy during study groups, and wave excitedly at professors even when he was late—was gone.

You weren’t you anymore.

And everyone noticed.

────────────────

Gryffindor Tower was tense.

Hermione watched you carefully from across the common room, her eyes darting every time you so much as moved. She tried to talk to you gently at first.

“Y/N, do you want to go over Charms together? You always help me with the incantation rhythm—”

You shook your head once.

“I’m fine.”

You weren’t.

Ron offered his last two Chocolate Frogs that night. The same boy who wouldn’t share with his own brothers.

“Mate,” he said softly, “come sit with us, yeah? We’ll throw on some music, Hermione’ll start arguing about Runes again, and we’ll forget the Slytherin git ever existed.”

But you just smiled.

That awful, empty, polite smile.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

You didn’t mean it.

And Harry—Harry sat with you in the common room one night, past midnight. He didn’t say much. Just sat nearby, watching you stare into the fire, unmoving.

When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.

“He never deserved you.”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t cry.

You just blinked and whispered, “I should’ve known.”

That’s what broke Harry.

────────────────

It spread to the classrooms.

You, who once raised your hand for every question, who used to help the younger students find their assigned partners, who made Professor Sprout smile with your enthusiastic herbology notes—you stopped trying.

You still showed up. Still did your homework. Still got top marks.

But it was lifeless.

Mechanical.

Professor McGonagall asked you to stay after Transfiguration one morning. The room emptied around you, but you remained at your desk, eyes staring ahead.

She walked toward you slowly, her hands folded in front of her.

“Mr. L/N,” she said softly. “You’ve always been one of my brightest. One of Hogwarts’ brightest.”

You didn’t respond.

“I know heartbreak,” she continued, her voice a gentle tremble. “It leaves its mark. But you don’t have to carry it alone.”

You blinked up at her then. For a brief second, she swore she saw that old light flicker back in your eyes.

“I’m fine, Professor,” you said quietly.

And it shattered her.

She didn’t believe you. No one did.

But you were convincing.

Too convincing.

────────────────

The next day, Professor Sinistra stopped you after Astronomy class.

“Y/N,” she said softly, frowning, “you haven’t turned in your celestial chart. Are you… alright?”

You blinked.

"Oh,” you said. “I forgot.”

She stared at you for a long moment. “You’ve never forgotten before. Is everything okay?”

You nodded. “Yes, Professor.”

But it was a lie. And she knew it.

She watched you leave the classroom, your shoulders hunched, the usual bounce in your step gone. Her heart ached for you.

She remembered you staying behind after class, excitedly rambling about star clusters and constellations, asking her questions she hadn’t even thought of. You were one of her brightest students.

Now, you didn’t even look at the sky.

────────────────

Even the portraits whispered.

They talked among themselves when you passed. That you were too quiet. That the cheerful Gryffindor had changed. One old witch in the Charms corridor even told her neighbor, “That one’s heartbroken, through and through. You can see it in the way he walks.”

And they were right.

You didn’t walk the same. You didn’t look the same.

No longer bouncing on your heels, waving at friends, or pointing excitedly to the sky. Now, you walked like your chest carried weights no one could see.

And at night?

You didn’t sleep.

You just laid there, eyes wide, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering how many stars had died since he said he never loved you.

────────────────

Theodore noticed.

Everywhere.

He noticed when you passed by without looking at him.

He noticed the way you no longer tucked that curl behind your ear nervously.

He noticed how your hands never fluttered when you talked—because you didn’t talk.

He noticed how Hermione flanked you in every class like a shield, and how Ron glared daggers at him from across every hallway. How Harry went from silently watching to outright refusing to let Theodore near you.

But the worst part?

Theodore didn’t fight it.

Because what could he say?

I was scared. I panicked. I really do love you now.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

He used to watch you from the other side of the Great Hall, hoping—wishing—you’d look up. That your eyes would find his like they always used to.

But they never did.

Even when the sun poured through the windows and caught your hair in that same golden glow it used to, you looked empty.

He’d broken you.

And you didn’t even hate him for it.

You just… erased him.

────────────────

The professors spoke behind closed doors.

Dumbledore watched you closely from his high table. He saw the way your smile never reached your eyes anymore. How you spoke in quiet syllables and barely touched your food.

Flitwick tried to lift your spirits with praise.

Sprout gave you extra cuttings to tend to in case it helped.

Hooch offered to teach you a new Quidditch maneuver—even though you weren’t on the team.

Even Snape, of all people, said your potion was “adequate” one day—because the look on your face when he used to insult your brewing was more alive than the one you wore now.

And McGonagall?

She pulled you aside again.

This time, she didn’t speak.

She just pulled you into a hug.

You didn’t hug her back.

But you didn’t pull away, either.

That was enough for her to cry once you left.

────────────────

And then came the first Hogsmeade trip.

You were invited by nearly every Gryffindor in the common room.

Neville asked gently. Dean said they’d buy your favorite sweets. Seamus promised a distraction, a new joke every minute. Hermione packed you a scarf, “just in case it’s cold.”

You said no.

You stayed behind.

Alone in the common room, watching the flames dance like stars falling from the sky. You didn’t need chocolate frogs. Or butterbeer. Or another attempt to feel something you couldn’t anymore.

You just needed to not exist for a little while.

────────────────

That night, long after curfew, long after the castle had gone quiet, you slipped out of the portrait hole like a ghost.

No one stopped you.

No one even saw you.

Not even the Fat Lady tried to ask where you were going.

You walked the halls slowly, your feet dragging slightly with every step, like gravity clung heavier to your bones these days. The flickering torches cast shadows on the stone walls, but you barely registered them. Your mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere four months ago.

Somewhere under the stars with his hand in yours.

The staircase to the Astronomy Tower groaned beneath your steps. Each echo bounced back at you, louder than expected, like the castle was trying to say something—Don’t go. Don’t break again.

But you kept climbing.

And then, finally, the door creaked open.

The cold hit you first. Sharp, biting wind brushing through your robes like needles. You shivered. You didn’t bring your scarf. You didn’t care.

You stepped out onto the platform, and the stars were… blinding.

Too many. Too bright.

They looked like glittering lies now.

You used to name them all.

You used to point to the constellations and tug on Theodore’s sleeve, whispering things like, “That one’s Cassiopeia. She was a queen, but vain. Got cursed for her pride.”

Or, “Orion always follows Artemis in the sky, like he’s still chasing her even after death.”

He used to smile at you when you talked like that. Sometimes he’d kiss your temple mid-ramble, just because he could.

You hated how easily you remembered that.

You stared up at the sky now, jaw tight, fists curled into your sleeves.

And then you whispered to no one—

“I don’t want to love you anymore.”

The words caught in the wind. Got carried off into the sky like a secret, like a curse.

But they weren’t true.

Because you did.

Even after everything.

Even now.

Your throat clenched.

And for the first time since that day in the Great Hall—

You cried.

Quiet, trembling sobs that echoed off the tower walls and dissolved into the night air. You sank to the floor, your face in your hands as if begging to the stars to take the ache away.

But they didn’t.

They just watched.

Silent.

Unforgiving.

And utterly, heartbreakingly distant.

[belovedenzo]

her little black book // lorenzo berkshire

summary; you find out that enzo and his friends keep track of their hook-up's in a little black book.

warnings; language, drunk sex, humiliating themes, enzo being a dick. SMUT 18+

words; 1k

notes; just a small drabble if you will. this was completely inspired by a girl on shifttok I saw years ago. this is based on her experience, not mine, I just took Inspo. tag her tiktok if you know what I'm talking about- it's iconic.

 It wasn’t but just a month ago when you had heard about Lorenzo Berkshire and his little black book. One thing the young wizard’s don’t know is by year seven all of the young witch’s have an unexplainable bond. Call it girl code if you will, but did he really think that Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw wouldn’t tell Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin? It’s no secret that most of you probably have a kiss or two in common… some, even more than that but the fact that she saw so many names from both her own and your house is still embarrassing. 

 He’s not the only one that gets around- all of his friends do. Him and his group of mates have seemed to be the center of attention among girls at Hogwarts for a long while now. It’s unspoken truth that they’ve probably had a lot of your year in vulnerable positions but no body knew he kept an actual log. A genuine log of all the affairs. 

 Luna rattled off details saying that she was genuinely taken aback as Lorenzo pulled out a small black journal from his bed side table right after busting a nut on her back. He rated her on paper- right there in front of her like it was nothing to him. According to her there were plenty of names- with plenty of different hand writings. 

 After pondering on it you had decided it was a group effort, he had gotten his mates in on it too. They were all in on this log- a quite humiliating one. A journal for them to discuss how each and every one of you were in bed… or where ever it was they did it that time. 

 You, yourself have had your way around a few of them, but with this new found information you may have your sights set on a new one. Pansy thought you were crazy when you had told her your plan, but if only she could see you now she’d think your genius. 

 The party was lame, but you went on a mission. After a few drinks and dances with Pansy you let loose enough to effectively get Lorenzo to want to sleep with you. Every function you watch the boys pass through groups of students, picking out the new girl for the night. This time you just so happen to easily give yourself up to him, just the way he likes it. 

 Now you lay there, face buried in your own pillow. Your roommates are of course in on it and made sure there would be enough alone time for you and Enzo seemed in no rush. He bucked firmly and precisely into your cervix, gripping the flesh of your ass that stuck up before him. This was always his favorite way to have his fun, harsh and unemotional. 

 The way he filled every groove you craved touch in almost made you lose sight of the actual plan. He was actually even bigger than you had imagined, each thrust aching more than the last. He was unfaltering and unforgiving about how he fucked into you from behind, and you loved it, just like all the others. He had you right where he wanted you, right where you needed to be. 

 A mix of your sweet sounds filling his ears and alcohol eating away at his continuousness eventually did cause him to boil over, pulling out to waste his spend across your back. This is probably how he fucks every single girl he brings in here, except this time you won’t let him have the last act of dominance. 

 With a swift motion you move from your compromising position, completing the final phase of this plan. You made sure he could hear the sounds of you shifting as you reach for the book, hooking lining and sending him. 

 “What are you doing?” He asks before standing up to get his own shit together. His voice indicates that he thinks he’s still in control of this situation. 

 You roll your eyes, closing the drawer behind you before turning to face the brunette you just had drunken sex with. “Nothing.” You voice is laced with a false innocence, scanning his body with your eyes. 

 Taller than Theo and Mattheo- yet not as muscular. Longer than Mattheo… but not as thick as Theo. He was rough like Theo too- but didn’t make you fear for your life like Mattheo did. A solid 7/10. Maybe even an 8 if he didn’t cum so fast in the end. 

 “Are you fucking kidding me?” He asks as you write a few notes onto the page in font of you. He must know what you were doing- he can’t be naive. 

 You turn to look at him and scan his face for a reaction, it seemed like you got the one you wanted. A rise. “You don’t like my little black book?” Your head cocks to the side, adding to your sarcasm. 

 He rolls his eyes but there are no signs of annoyance like you had heard briefly in his voice before. His eyes trail down to the page before meeting yours once again. He seemed more intrigued than he did anything, excited even. If you weren’t seeing things- he almost seemed turned on by what he was seeing. 

 “So what do I have to do to get my score higher than Matty’s?”

love, spell

[sativariddle]

ILVERMORNY GIRL ꒰ t.n. ꒱

ㅤ────── ❝ never mentioned a boyfriend. ❞

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ navigation. ( 10k+ words. )

AUTHOR’S NOTE: if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with. turning this into a series, so yes! you will be left on a little cliffhanger!

WARNINGS: contains themes of abusive relationships, sexual content, foul language, mention of character death, manipulation, cheating, and characters making poor decisions.

SUMMARY: a week long stay at ilvermorny sounds like a dream, doesn’t it? the castle is breathtaking: grand halls, towering spires, and enchanted corridors. but as it turns out, the architecture won’t be the only thing capturing theodore’s gaze with such admiration.

MCHT.

mcht. mcht. mcht: the soft, wet sound of lips meeting and parting echoed in the air with an almost hypnotic noise. the pressure of parted mouths gently pressing and then releasing in a fluid dance.

the room bathed in a deep purple light that made everything feel dreamlike and surreal, as if it were pressing against your skin, sending a subtle pulse to your temple. shadows cast against the walls swayed with each movement, the warmth of breath mingled, blending with the quiet rustle of clothing.

theodore couldn't fathom how he ended up here, nor did he care to remember when. his mind was too preoccupied with the girl straddling his lap, humping his thigh like a bitch in heat. he had never been this hard, or turned on in his life.

“you got a condom?”

theodore barely registered the speed at which the words left his mouth. they tumbled out in a rushed breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. maybe he was speaking too fast - maybe he wasn’t - maybe it didn’t fucking matter. his father had been riding his ass about this insufferable party for weeks, insisting that it was a necessary event, an opportunity that theodore simply could not afford to miss.

it was halfway across the damn world, and the only reason he’d agreed to come was to shut the old man up. but now that he was here, drowning in a sea of pretentious laughter and clinking champagne flutes, it hadn’t taken long for his attention to be stolen by something far more interesting.

a distraction. a bit of entertainment. and, hell, why not indulge himself? if nothing else, it was the perfect way to spit in his father’s face; an act of defiance wrapped up in pleasure.

and merlin help him, there was no stopping it now. the air between them was filled with something so so so electric, and when her response came, it sent a sharp jolt through him.

“no condom.” no condom? what?

the words rang in his ears, echoing louder than the music in the background. no condom? what the hell did that even mean? his brain scrambled to keep up, teetering between confusion and the overwhelming heat pooling low in his stomach. he parted his lips to ask, to clarify - but she beat him to it.

“i’ll just take the pill tomorrow.” the pill?

the sheer implication of it - of feeling her bare, nothing between them, no barriers, no interruptions - hit him so fucking hard he nearly lost himself right then and there. his fingers twitched at his sides, need clawing at him that made it almost impossible to think straight.

he should have said something. he should have asked are you sure? or maybe even considered the rationality of it. but shit — all he could do was swallow hard, pulse hammering in his throat, as his restraint threatened to snap entirely.

theodore never imagined a one night stand could sear itself into his memory so vividly. despite his initial assumption that he'd forget it all by dawn, the encounter haunted his thoughts. days turned into weeks, weeks into months. even when theodore returned to hogwarts, he wasted no time recounting the night to his friends, every detail still burning fresh in his mind.

no matter how many days passed, his thoughts never strayed far from her. he could still feel her touch, hear her soft little breathless moans, the way her body had fit so perfectly against his, as if she had been made to be in his arms. and salazar, she had been beautiful. the kind of beauty that stayed, that settled deep in his bones and refused to fade, no matter how hard he tried to shake it.

theodore thought about her so often that he started seeking out others just to chase her touch. but it was never the same - never her.

no matter how many hands traced his skin or how many lips pressed against his, none of them ignited that fire, that raw, breath stealing power she had. and afterward, when it was over, he would just find himself staring at the nearest wall, mind tangled in the same question: how the hell did he get so hung up on a girl he’d never see again?

he had never been the type to believe in destiny, never bought into the whole everything happens for a reason bullshit. that wasn’t how life worked - at least, not for him. yet, for the first time, he found himself wondering if maybe - just maybe - he had been wrong.

ILVERMORNY SCHOOL OF witchcraft and wizardry stood proudly atop mount greylock, its grand stone structure blending seamlessly with the wilderness surrounding it. unlike the towering, medieval spires of hogwarts, ilvermorny had a sort of elegance - all smooth gray stone walls with enchanted ivy that shifted colors with the seasons. wide terraces and arched windows overlooking the garden, forests stretching far beyond the mountain’s edge, rivers carved through valleys and mist clung to the treetops.

golden sun painted streaks of amber across the sky as the hogwarts seventh years disembarked from the enchanted portkey onto ilvermorny’s grounds. the air smelled different here: crisp laced with pine. a huge difference from the damp, mossy aroma of the scottish highlands. the week long exchange program was meant to give students the chance to experience life at other wizarding schools, possibly transferring for their eighth and final year if they felt a stronger connection elsewhere.

at the main entrance, massive carved doors bore the symbols of the four houses: thunderbird, wampus, horned serpent, and pukwudgie - each shimmering faintly as if alive with magic.

the castle’s peaked rooflines and grand columns gave it the appearance of an old, enchanted manor, standing timeless. encircled by pines and hidden paths leading to who knows where, ilvermorny felt less like a fortress and more like a secret - one kept by the mountain itself.

the kind of beauty you’d want to keep to yourself, too precious to share with anyone else. theodore was no stranger to that kind of beauty - it almost rivaled with the girl from that one night at the ball halfway across the world. almost.

dumbledore stood before them, robes billowing slightly in the cool wind, moon glasses perched at the end of his nose. “now,” the old man began, voice smooth like butter. “before we officially begin our week long stay at ilvermorny, i would like to establish a few rules.”

a collective groan — mostly from the slytherins. “as guests, you will be expected to conduct yourselves with the utmost decorum,” he continued. “this includes respecting ilvermorny’s customs, following their curfew, and refraining from any behavior that may cause unnecessary…” he paused, as if carefully selecting his next words. “… incidents.”

dumbledore exhaled slowly through his thin nose. “which is precisely why i feel the need to emphasize these rules before the headmaster arrives -“

“ - there will be no sneaking out past curfew,” he continued, eyes flicking directly to mattheo, who looked entirely unbothered. “no unauthorized use of magic outside of class,” - a glance at blaise, who merely arched a brow - “and absolutely no unsanctioned broom races across the ilvermorny grounds.”

draco cleared his throat loudly, pointedly averting his gaze. “i’d like to assume you’re all mature enough to use protection when necessary - pun very much intended.” a stunned silence followed.

several students exchanged side glances, brows raised, as if silently questioning whether they had actually just heard that. “furthermore,” dumbledore went on, shifting his gaze, “i trust there will be no incidents involving the local wildlife.”

as if choreographed, the entire group turned in perfect unison toward berkshire. enzo, refusing to meet their stares, suddenly found the rock at his feet to be the most fascinating thing in the world.

“albus dumbledore!” agilbert fontaine, a man with a full beard streaked with silver, strode toward the group of hogwarts seventh years. his presence alone was enough to demand respect, but his tone carried a warmth that made it clear he was pleased to see them. “how excited and utterly honored we are to have you join us.”

beside him walked a girl who looked to be around their age. she had large brown eyes that darted between them, her expression caught somewhere between curiosity and discomfort. a tight lipped, awkward smile tugged at her lips, her thin, straight brows slightly furrowed as if unsure how to carry herself in the moment.

to fontaine’s left was you, also appearing to be in their year. a pair of small metallic balls gleamed on your eyebrow. your smile was small, barely there - just the faintest curve at the corner of your lips, almost forced, as if it had been placed there out of habit rather than genuine feeling. beside you, a boy with dark, spiky hair had an arm draped lazily around your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly toying with the ends of your hair.

you, however, barely seemed to notice - gaze fixed straight ahead, unfocused, as though you were somewhere else entirely.

rather than being in house colors, the ilvermorny uniform features blue robes fastened at the front with a gold gordian knot clasp, beneath the robes, a tailored cranberry colored blazer, paired with a white shirt and a tie.

“i appreciate you for having us,” dumbledore said. fontaine clasped the hogwarts headmaster in a firm embrace, their chuckles rich. the two wizards stood momentarily lost in their shared history, the students behind them shifted awkwardly, exchanging uncertain glances as they waited for further instruction.

“i’d assume albus has already gone over the rules,” fontaine mused, pulling away to meet dumbledore’s knowing gaze. with a simple nod of confirmation from dumbledore, fontaine turned his attention to the three students before him, eyes sweeping over them with pride.

“these are my best,” he declared, gesturing to the ilvermorny studnets standing nearby. “we’ll be splitting you all into groups since managing every single one of you at once would be impossible.”

he wasn’t exaggerating. the number of seventh years was startling - nearly two hundred, maybe more, their figures casting long shadows. some stood tall with curiosity, others with thinly veiled exhaustion from the journey, while a few barely concealed their irritation.

“this is novalie,” fontaine continued, resting a firm hand on the shoulder of a dark haired girl who shifted slightly under the weight of so many eyes. “ravenclaw and hufflepuff, follow her.” novalie gave a small, almost hesitant wave as students began peeling away from the group, forming an orderly line in front of her.

blaise caught draco’s eye, smirking as he tilted his head toward novalie in silent amusement. mattheo and pansy exchanged a knowing glance; they had seen that look before. blaise zabini had already marked his next target. the way his dark eyes flicked over novalie, considering, was enough to confirm it.

enzo rolled his eyes, already prepared to make a joke about blaise and his horrible flirting skills, but the words died in his throat when he turned and realized theodore wasn’t paying attention. at all.

instead, theodore’s gaze was locked on someone. his posture had stiffened, lips parted ever so slightly, brows knit together as if his mind was struggling to catch up with what his eyes were telling him.

“mate?” lorenzo gave him two rough pats on the back, snapping him out of his trance.

theodore blinked rapidly, swallowing hard before muttering, “do you remember the girl i fucked in a purp-“ “- the only thing you ever talk about?” pansy cut in, arms crossed, letting out a dramatic huff. “yeah, everyone fucking knows.” theodore barely registered her interruption. his pulse pounded in his ears, and his stomach twisted as he tried to process the impossibility standing before him.

“yeah, well, she’s right th -“

before he could finish, fontaine’s voice cut through the air. “gryffindor, go with -” when fontaine said your name; theodore barely breathed as he watched you step forward, a familiar face in an entirely unfamiliar place. it was you. he fucking knew it. the girl from across the world. the one who had occupied his thoughts for longer than he cared to admit.

“ - slytherin, go with archer cassius.” but then, the final blow - the bloke beside you slipped an arm around your waist effortlessly, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, casually, like it was something he’d done a thousand times before.

archer cassius. even his name sounded so fucking stupid. theodore had to physically stop himself from reacting, from demanding to know who the fuck that was and what gave him the right.

he didn’t know - nor did he care - how he looked staring at the two of you, his eyes blinking rapidly as if that would somehow change what he was seeing. maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. maybe this wasn’t real. but it was. and though you had never promised him anything, though he never once let himself believe he’d see you again, that didn’t stop the sharp sting in his chest.

slytherins began moving toward archer, but theodore’s feet felt rooted to the ground, his attention locked on you as you began walking away, gryffindors trailing behind you.

if the blue robes weren’t covering your arms, he knew the tattoos beneath would be there - etched into your skin like a masterpiece. he had traced them with his tongue, memorizing every curve and line, convinced they looked nothing short of divine on you.

“coming?” pansy asked as the slytherins had already begun moving out of sight.

theodore exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes before reluctantly falling in step behind archer - though he made a point to linger at the very back of the line, ensuring that that motherfucker stayed well out of arm’s reach.

archer was leading them to their sleeping quarters first, then giving a tour of the key areas before they’d all be free to roam as they pleased. but theodore already knew exactly where he’d be going the moment they were dismissed.

—

you could feel a pair of eyes on you, a gaze that made the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. it wasn’t until the group paused near one of the towering stained glass windows that you caught sight of him.

he stood off to the side, hands buried deep in the pockets of his robes, nonchalance - except for his eyes, locked onto you. you had assumed he was just another gryffindor tagging along, but something about the way he moved, separate from the others, made you second guess.

“can i help you?” you asked, turning toward him. he took a slow step closer, tilting his head slightly. “i was wondering about something.”

here we go.

you raised a brow. “and what’s that?”

“archer cassius,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something else. “the boyfriend? assuming of course…” you stiffened slightly at the name, then exhaled through your nose. “yeah. he is.”

theodore let out a breath of laughter, though there was no humor in it. “huh.” he rocked back on his heels. “interesting.”

if there was one thing you hated most, it was when someone clearly had something on their mind, and instead of addressing it right away, they danced around it - almost like teasing, daring you to get them to spill. it infuriated the fuck out of you. “why do you care?”

he met your gaze. you hated how ridiculously handsome he looked, too. it’s seven in the morning why does he have to look so irresistible? “just trying to make sense of something.”

you sighed, shifting uncomfortably. “and what exactly are you trying to make sense of, theodore?”

his lips quirked, he’d be lying to himself if hearing his name on your lips didn’t bring back a memory of you screaming it just a few months ago. “back in that purple room, when we -“ he gestured between the two of you, “ - you weren’t together?”

you swallowed nervously, forcing yourself to maintain your composure. “we were on a break.”

we were on a break. the words hung between you both.

theodore’s jaw ticked. “right. a break.” he let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “and i suppose that meant it was meaningless, yeah?”

you opened your mouth, hesitating. “it shouldn’t have meant anything.” it shouldn’t have meant anything. it really shouldn’t have. but can’t you see how hard he tried to convince himself of that? yet, the way you felt against him, the way you didn’t just care about your own pleasure but his too - he was doomed from the moment he craved a second round. then a third. then taking you against a random shower wall for a fourth.

a humorless smirk pulled at his lips. “right. shouldn’t have.” he took another step forward, closer now. “and still, you look like you don’t believe that any more than i do.”

you clenched your jaw. “what do you want me to say, theo?”

“i don’t know,” he shrugged. “maybe the truth?”

you exhaled sharply, frustrated. “the truth is; it happened. months ago. a mistake. lets move on.”

“a mistake,” he repeated, voice low. he let the words settle before chuckling, shaking his head. “funny. it didn’t feel like one at the time.” you almost wanted to punch him for making you remember - the embarrassingly high pitched breathless moans that had even caught you off guard.

you remembered that day vividly: something had happened between you and archer a few nights beforehand, and you were still feeling so messed up from it, desperate for a distraction. that’s why you went to the party with your brother and his girlfriend. but when you couldn’t find them, you wandered, keeping your distance from the old, creepy men lingering around.

that’s when you saw theodore. everyone knew he was handsome - it was undeniable. your cousins had warned you about him, saying he was one of the biggest players at hogwarts, right alongside his group of friends. maybe that’s what made the decision easier. it would happen once, something quick, and you’d leave.

but then, the conversation started flowing. he kept inching closer, his breath smelled nice, and before you knew it, a few minutes of small talk had turned into sneaking off together. the two of you slipped into a random room, the glow of purple light casting soft shadows over scattered confetti on the floor.

there was something about the way he spoke, his accent pulling you in, making you lean just a little closer each time he said something. you had asked him about hogwarts, but the moment he started to answer, you remember cutting him off - “shut up,” you had said, before pressing your lips to his.

you glanced away, heart hammering against your ribs. this was not a conversation you wanted to have - not here, not at all. but before you could find the words to end it:

“everything okay here?”

you turned sharply to find archer standing a few feet away, brows drawn together as he looked between you and theodore.

you forced a smile. “yeah, we’re fine.”

theodore, however, had a different response. he slid his hands back into his pockets, tilting his head slightly as he regarded archer. “yeah, mate,” he said, voice knife sharp. “we’re just clearing up some... old misunderstandings.”

just to fuck around, theodore poked the side of your cheek, hoping to get a reaction. he was successful as you quickly swatted his hand away, stepping back a few steps.

archer’s gaze darkened slightly. “yeah?”

theodore smirked. “mm.”

you could feel both of their stares on you, but you refused to let it alarm you. you straightened your shoulders and turned to archer. “i was just about to finish showing them around.” the two of you had argued less than twenty four hours ago - the last thing you wanted was for archer to be angry again. or worse…

archer studied you for a second longer before nodding. “right. let me know if you need anything.” he shot theodore one last glance before stepping back to join the others.

theodore watched him go, then turned his gaze back to you. “must be nice,” he murmured, voice just low enough for you to hear. “having something so... steady.”

“bye, theo.” you reply, refusing to rise to the bait.

since theodore loved nothing more than getting under your skin, he smirked and said, “bye, babe.” you let out an annoyed sound, turning back just long enough to make sure he caught the roll of your eyes before walking away. even with your back to him, his gaze lingered on you, burning into your skin until you finally disappeared around the corner.

he didn’t see you for the rest of the day. it was clear you’d started avoiding him after your little boyfriend had come over.

he had told his friends everything that had happened, recounting the events from months ago between you two, going over the details once more. his friends made disapproving noises, having heard the story countless times before. then he told them about your earlier encounter, how he hadn’t known you had a boyfriend, or that you were supposedly ‘on a break,’ while the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. and, of course, how your boy toy came running in, thinking he was your knight in shining armor.

that night, theodore went to bed, thoughts of you swirling in his mind so much that you even appeared in his dream. for a second, there you were, and just as he was about to speak to you, he woke up with a sigh, frustrated that he couldn’t even talk to you in the damn dream.

ON ONE SIDE, the seventh year hogwarts students stood in their school robes, glancing around curiously as they prepared for their first ever game of ‘capture the flag.’ opposite them, the ilvermorny seventh years stood tall and confident. at the center of it all stood fontaine, his dark blue robes shifting like waves with each movement. a knowing smile played on his lips as he addressed the assembled students.

“alright, listen up, everyone!” he called out. “we’re here to play a game that requires strategy, agility, and a bit of cunning - capture the flag. but, of course, you’ll be playing it a bit differently than you’re used to, so pay close attention.”

the hogwarts students exchanged curious glances, while the ilvermorny students smirked. across the wide stretch of grass, theodore’s gaze lingered on you. your boyfriend stood at your side, and the moment your eyes met theodore’s, he quickly looked away - as if he hadn’t been watching the two of you this whole time. ever since dumbledore and fontaine had gathered the seventh years outside for what they called a ‘small activity,’ his attention had been anything but subtle.

“here’s how it works,” fontaine continued, pacing in front of the eager crowd. “you all have a color tied to your waist - two colors, to be specific. each team will have two colors. your goal is to snatch the colors from the opposing team’s waist and hold onto them. if both colors are taken from your waist, you’re out. that means no more running around or playing - just sit out and cheer your team on.”

“sounds easy enough, yeah?” mattheo muttered to his friends, a smirk tugging at his lips. “should i take out your girl first, nott? maybe play a little dirty?” blaise chuckled, theodore simply rolled his eyes.

“if she doesn’t get you first,” he shot back before glancing in your direction. “fucking sneaky.”

“you’ll need to be quick on your feet,” fontaine continued, “because the team with the most colors at the end of the match wins. and don’t get too cocky - defense is just as important as offense. keep your eyes on your own colors, and don’t let the other team outsmart you.”

the students shifted in excitement as fontaine clapped his hands once, signaling for everyone to line up.

“any questions?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

one brave seventh year from hogwarts raised her hand. “what if someone grabs our color but doesn’t get both of them? do we still get a chance to defend?”

fontaine smiled widely, clearly pleased with the question. “very good. if someone grabs one of your colors, you’ve got a chance to tag them before they make it back to their side. you’ll need to make sure your teammates are there to back you up.”

some of the ilvermorny students chuckled, clearly ready to defend their colors. they all tied their colors securely around their waists, and the hogwarts team did the same.

“alright then,” fontaine said with a grin, stepping aside to allow dumbledore to say a few words.

dumbledore’s voice was stern. “remember, the point is not to fight, but to work together. winning isn’t as important as how you play the game. have fun, respect each other, and be safe. magic is not allowed in this game, so you’ll be relying on your legs.”

with a final nod, dumbledore stepped back, and fontaine clapped his hands again. “alright, teams! get into position, and may the best team win.”

“three… two… one -”

the moment the game started, it was absolute chaos. students lunged at each other, dodging, intertwining, and snatching at the strips of cloth fluttering from their opponents’ waists. shouts and shrieks echoed through the field, feet thundering against the ground.

you were fast, effortlessly ducking past grasping hands and slipping through gaps in the swarm of bodies. a smile tugged at your lips as you evaded yet another hogwarts student, their frustrated groan only fueling your determination.

you parted ways with archer, swiftly snatching a red cloth from a hogwarts boy as you twisted through the chaos. keeping a firm grip on your own blue cloth, you stayed alert, sidestepping anytime someone got too close or looked ready to make a move.

“gotcha - !” mattheo riddle’s voice shouted out behind you, and before you could react, he lunged. but just as his fingers nearly closed around the blue cloth at your waist, he was shoved aside - hard. he was nearly there, so fucking close, fingers barley grazing the fabric. “the fuck, nott?” mattheo staggered, catching himself just in time before face planting into the grass.

theodore stood between you and him, expression substandard as he barely spared mattheo a glance. “try someone else.”

before you could snap at theodore for interfering, lorenzo attempted to take advantage of the distraction and reached for your cloth. you were too focused on proving to theo that you could handle yourself, completely unaware of enzo creeping up behind you - but theo wasn’t, without hesitation, theodore pushed him away too.

“ -hmph. for fuck’s sake, nott -“ lorenzo huffed, glaring up at him, rolling onto his back, one hand lifting to shield his eyes from the sun - too damn bright for anyone’s liking.

“i don’t need protecting.” and to prove your point, your hand shot out in a blur, snatching a red strip from theodore’s waist before he could react.

his blue eyes widened slightly as you took off, sprinting through the chaos with his color in your grasp. “oh, you fucking -“

you knew the rules. since you had taken his color, theodore was now allowed to chase you down to retrieve it. and of course, he would take full advantage of that. his long strides closed the distance between you with ease - he could catch up in seconds, take you down, pin you beneath him, and snatch your colors, securing your loss. but this little game between you two? whether he’d admit it or not, he loved it.

you threw a smug glance over your shoulder. “what’s wrong, nott? losing?”

theodore scowled. “annoying you are.”

before you could retort, a hogwarts student purposely stuck out their foot, sending you stumbling forward. you barely caught yourself, but the distraction was enough - the hogwarts student started to smile as you began to get up, but before they could react any further, theodore swiftly grabbed the red cloth from the student who had tripped you.

with a proud smile, he made sure to take the other cloth as well. “you’re out,” he said, his voice leaking with satisfaction.

“you do know we’re on the same team, right?” the student replied, arms crossing in annoyance.

theo ignored the protest, stepping toward you instead. he extended his hand, holding the red cloths out toward you. from where you lay on the ground, the sun blinding you, all you could make out was his shape and the outstretched hand, the cloths dangling from his fingers. “take them.”

you frowned. “what are you doing?” he was handing you his team colors as a way to initiate a conversation.

“we need to talk.”

“now’s really not the -“

a sudden force slammed into theodore from the side. he lurched, nearly losing his footing, but quickly recovered. it was archer. he was really starting to piss theodore off. he couldn’t even talk to you without your damn boyfriend causing a scene.

theodore’s jaw clenched as he steadied himself, his hand instinctively curling into a fist. “are you serious?” archer scoffed. “stay the fuck away from her.”

theodore shoved him back without hesitation, his patience snapping. “how about you stay the fuck out of things that don’t concern you?”

“she does concern me! everything she does concerns me - involves me!” archer snapped.

oh, theodore was about to sink to an all time low. he barely held back a chuckle as he replied. "yeah? when i was pushing my dick inside her four times, you weren't around to worry about it, were you?" and just like that, the two lunged at each other, hands grasping at the colored strips while simultaneously trying to take the other down. the shouts around them grew louder as students scrambled out of the way, watching the scene unfold with horror.

novalie rushed forward, proudly displaying blaise’s and several other hogwarts students’ colors tied around her waist. you and novalie exchanged glances before, with a swift movement, you each grabbed the cloths from theodore and archer’s waists.

“they’re out,” novalie announced, holding up her prize. but neither boy stopped. they continued grappling, fists tightening in each other’s shirts, completely ignoring the fact that they had technically lost.

a wave of magic swept through the field, and an unseen force yanked them apart. dumbledore’s magic.

theodore and archer stumbled but quickly regained their footing, now standing nose to nose, their breathing heavy as they glared daggers at each other.“enough!” fontaine voice rang out, silencing the entire field. “both of you, my office. now.”

archer and theodore were still practically chest to chest, fists clenched, but neither argued with the headmaster. they simply turned on their heels and trudged toward the castle, following fontaine.

—

two days.

two days had passed since the chaos of capture the flag, and theodore hadn’t heard a damn thing from you. not a word. not a glance. nothing. not that he was looking for you either.

and yet, the thought of you - your voice, your fucking smirk, the way you had snatched his colors right off his waist - still rattled in his mind, completely uninvited. it pissed him off. you pissed him off. archer pissed him off. everything about this situation was so goddamn frustrating, and what was fucking worse? you still had him wrapped around your fucking finger, whether you realized it or not.

he had tried to shove it aside, distract himself, even as his friends spent the past two days talking about the upcoming ilvermorny party.

everyone was going. hogwarts and ilvermorny students alike had been raving about it - how wild it was supposed to be, how it was the place to be tonight.

theodore didn’t go.

he remained in bed while his friends hurried around, getting dressed and ready for the night. they pleaded with him over and over, insisting that a party wasn’t complete without nott, but he couldn’t bring himself to go. the thought of being surrounded by so many people was exhausting - especially when, thanks to the shared dorms, he barely had any time to himself. so, when his friends finally left, he embraced the quiet.

or at least, he tried to.

the silence left too much room for his thoughts to wander — to you. what you were doing right now. whether you’d gone to the party. whether you were in archer’s room, making his night unforgettable. the second that thought crossed his mind, he groaned and shoved his face into his pillow, thumping his head against it in frustration.

clearly, lying in bed and overthinking wasn’t working.

instead, he wandered the castle alone, his footsteps echoing softly through the corridors. the distant sound of laughter and music from the party filtered in through the open windows, but he ignored it. he wasn’t in the mood for noise, for drinking, for pretending he gave a shit about anything other than the storm inside his own head.

but then, he saw you. it was strange - he had just been thinking about you, and suddenly, there you were.

he hadn’t seen you in two days, but he could always recognize you, even from behind. the little tattoos scattered across your arms - the ones he adored on you. your hair fell to the middle of your back, and you usually carried yourself with perfect posture. but now, you were hunched over, your head in your hands. as theodore stepped closer, he noticed the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders, the faint sound of sniffles reaching his ears.

you were alone, standing near the entrance to an empty hallway, body slightly hunched as if you were trying to make yourself smaller. something felt… off. even through the half lit corridors, he could see the way your hands trembled, the way your posture screamed hesitation.

“you’re missing your big party,” he said, his voice calm. you flinched at the sound of his voice, but you didn’t turn to face him.

he took a step forward, trying to move into your line of sight so he could see your face. but the moment he moved, so did you, turning away just enough to keep yourself hidden from him.

he frowned. “what, too drunk to look at me?”

silence.

you stayed silent, and so did he. he watched you closely, searching for any sign that you were okay. when he stepped forward again, trying once more to see your face, you flinched and pulled away, still refusing to let him see you.

his stomach twisted. he stepped closer. “let me see your face.”

you shook your head instantly, stepping back. “no.” your voice was so thick - like you’d been holding back tears for a while now. “just leave me alone, theo.”

your voice carried the poundage of a forming lump, the kind that comes just before you completely break down. you never sounded like that - your tone was always sharp, laced with sarcasm, never… shaky. your words were slurred - theodore could smell the alcohol on your breath from a mile away. he clenched his jaw. “not happening. let me see.”

“no.”

his patience snapped.

before you could retreat further, he reached out, his hands catching your wrists. you struggled weakly, but you were too drunk, too sluggish, and in one swift motion, he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

and that’s when he saw it. a deep, ugly purple bruise spread across your cheekbone, darkened by the light but unmistakable. his fingers twitched against your skin as his breath hitched.

his grip tightened. “who the fuck did this?” it looked awful - probably even worse than it felt. the deep purple stood out harshly against your skin, made even more noticeable by the tears rolling down your face. but more than anything, it made you feel ugly. it made you feel marked.

you jerked away from him, your balance wavering as you wiped at your eyes with shaking hands. “just drop it, theodore.” you tried to make it sound like a demand, but it came out more like a plea. “this is your fucking fault for telling him… telling him -“ your voice broke, the words tangled in hiccups, sobs, and drunken slurs. you couldn’t even get them out. “just drop it. please.”

he wasn’t dropping shit. his jaw clenched so tightly it ached, his mind already putting the pieces together. drunk, voice slurring, didn’t want to go back to archer.

you hadn’t spoken to theodore in two days - hadn’t even let him get a word in. but that didn’t stop the rage simmering just beneath his skin.“the fuck do you mean drop it?” his voice was so fucking dangerous. “he did this? huh?”

you squeezed your eyes shut, letting more tears slip down your cheeks and into theodore’s palm, which was still gently cradling your face.

that was all the confirmation he needed.

he exhaled harshly through his nose, hands clenching into fists before he forced himself to relax. right now, you were drunk. you were barely standing. he had to deal with you first - he could deal with archer later.

“you can’t go back there,” he said finally.

you scoffed, wobbling slightly. “oh, and what? stay with you?”

“yeah. that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

you glared at him, but it was sloppy, unfocused. “you’re so fucking bossy.”

“and you’re fucking drunk,” he shot back, moving to steady you as you swayed. he’s sure as hell wasn’t going to press for more details - he’ll settle for getting the truth out of you in the morning.

“i can walk -“ as if on cue, you pushed away from him, acting like you could walk just fine. but you overestimated yourself, immediately stumbling forward. theodore was right behind you, catching your forearm to steady you.

“no, you can’t.”

you huffed in frustration, but before you could argue, theodore crouched slightly and hooked an arm behind your knees, lifting you off the ground effortlessly.

“- hmph.” you let out a startled noise, your hands gripping onto his shoulders. “theo - put me down!”

“shut up,” he muttered, adjusting you as you squirmed. “stop moving before i drop your ass.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

he smirked, but there was no amusement behind it. “try me.” you scowled at him but settled down, letting your head lull against his shoulder as he carried you through the halls. you reeked of alcohol, body warm from drinking, but despite the mess you were in, he still held you with ease.

as you stared up at him, your eyes glossy and clouded, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was helping you now. you felt like an ugly mess, with a bruise marring half your face. you’d done everything in your power to push him away, refusing to have the ‘conversation’ he’d been begging for. for what? you had no idea. and though you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol speaking or a quick moment of clarity, you found yourself wanting to hear him out.

when he finally reached his assigned dorm, he kicked the door open with his foot and carefully set you down onto the bed.

you groaned, shifting as you buried your face into the pillow. “m’gonna throw up.”

he sighed, walking over to the bathroom connected to the dorm and grabbing the small trashcan before placing it beside the bed. “if you’re going to throw up, do it here.” you made a sound of protest, shaking your head, your face still buried deep in the pillow. “gonna throw up on your bed.”

“you better not. i’m not cleaning up your shit.”

you peeked up at him, eyes bleary. “such a gentleman.”

“sleep.”

he grabbed an extra blanket from enzo’s bed and draped it over you. you immediately snuggled into its warmth. “sleep. we’ll talk in the morning,” he murmured, then grabbed another blanket and pillow from draco’s bed, tossing them onto the floor before settling down.

the room was quiet for a few moments, just the sound of your unsteady breathing filling the space.

then, your voice came out, soft and almost hesitant. “it’s…it’s too cold. just get in the bed, theo.”

he went still.

he hadn’t planned on sleeping. was going to stay awake until his friends got back from the party, so he could tell them to leave and crash in pansy’s dorm instead. but the moment you asked to get in bed, theodore felt a sudden warmth spread up to his ears.

he exhaled, long and slow, before grumbling, “you’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” still, he got up. slipping under the covers beside you, he kept his distance, body stiff.

but then, you shifted closer, and before he could react, your head rested lightly against his shoulder.

he felt your hair brush against his skin, your warmth seeping into him almost instantly. he didn’t stop you when your hand slipped over his waist, nor when you draped a leg over his. you lifted your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, right below his beauty mark. “thank you,” you whispered.

he swallowed hard, staring up at the ceiling. “…get some sleep,” he muttered, voice quieter this time.

you didn’t protest either, your lashes brushing against your eyebrow piercing as you gazed up at his face before finally letting your eyes flutter shut. the alcohol left you feeling everything at once - sleepy, hungry, mad, annoyed, on the verge of tears - and it had drained you completely.

theodore didn’t fall asleep right away. instead, he lay there, staring up at the ceiling with his hands tucked behind his head, your head resting on his bicep. you looked so at peace without those sharp, beautiful eyes glaring at him - lips slightly parted, soft breaths spilling from them.

your hair was everywhere, strands tickling his neck, but he didn’t mind.

twenty minutes passed before he heard his friends drunkenly fumbling with the dorm door, trying to get inside. theodore had locked it and placed a spell on it, wanting to avoid any questions about why you were fast asleep in his bed.

after three failed attempts, they finally gave up. he heard pansy mumble something about just crashing at her assigned dorm for the night before their footsteps faded away.

THE MORNING LIGHT filtered through the dormitory windows, casting a strip of golden glow over theodore’s chest as he stirred, stretching slightly before reaching toward the space beside him - only to find it empty. his fingers brushed against the cool sheets, the warmth that had been there just hours ago completely gone.

his beautiful eyes snapped open, scanning the room: everything was perfectly in place. the extra blanket he had thrown over you was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, the trash can he had set beside you was gone - assuming to be back in the bathroom, and even his pillow where your head had rested was fluffed, as if untouched.

it was as if last night had never happened.

the soft creak of a door caught his attention. he turned just as you stepped out of the bathroom, your face freshly washed, your expression carefully guarded. relief settled over him, but it didn’t last long, because the first thing he noticed was the deep purple bruise still marring your skin.

“you were just going to leave without saying anything?” his voice was quiet, still recovering from his sleep.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you walked over to the dresser, grabbing your things with slow movements.

“at least tell me where the bruise came from,” theodore pressed, standing up now, his sharp eyes never leaving you. “it doesn’t matter,” you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

“it does to me.”

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “why? so you can play hero? so you can tell me what i already know?”

theodore took a step closer, his patience thinning. “just tell me, what happened?” you swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the edge of the dresser. “you already know,” you whispered.

he did. but hearing you admit it made his blood run cold. “archer,” he said.

you nodded, exhaling shakily. “he told me what you said to him during capture the flag and…” your voice faltered, and you turned away slightly. “he said he didn’t care whether it was true or not - just the fact that you even thought that about me must’ve meant something.”

it had. but archer didn’t know that.

theodore’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “he beat the shit out of you for what i said?” his voice was dangerously low now.

you hesitated before nodding again. “it’s not the first time,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. you took a shaky breath. “after archer’s mother died, i was the only one there for him, comforting her and everything. and the first time he… the first time he actually hit me was over something so stupid.” your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves. “i got paired up with a boy for a school project, and archer thought i was laughing and smiling too much. which is insane because i just wanted to get the damn thing over with.” you swallowed hard. “but he punched me. and i swear to you, theo, i wanted to leave. i was going to leave. but then he broke down. said his head was a mess after losing his mother, that he was losing everything -“ your voice cracked. “i couldn’t just leave him.”

theodore was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenched so tight you could hear his teeth grind. “so he manipulated you.”

you said nothing.

his eyes darkened. “how many times after that?”

again, silence.

theodore stood abruptly from the bed, his entire body taut with barely contained rage. “i asked you a question.” maybe it was wrong to push you like this, but if someone was hurting you, he needed to know. he needed to do something.

you exhaled shakily, staring down at your hands. “every time he gets mad,” you admitted softly. “or… when he’s stressed.”

it was strange - wrong, even - how small your voice had become. you were always sharp tongued with theodore, always snappy and confident, never one to back down from a fight. and yet, sitting here now, you were so quiet. it was so fucking weird.

just like the first time he had seen you walk out of those doors with archer’s arm around you - your body there but your mind somewhere far, far away.

“if i leave him, it’ll be worse.”

you sounded so certain, so resigned, like you had already convinced yourself this was just the way things had to be. “you don’t know that,” he argued, stepping closer. “you don’t have to stay with him.”

“you don’t understand, theo,” you said, finally looking at him. “he will hurt me. worse than this. he’s not just going to let me go.”

god, you had tried to leave. so many times. so many times. even sleeping with theo — letting him mark you up with hickeys you made sure archer would see - that didn’t work. if anything, it only made things worse. he made sure you knew exactly who owned you after that, and it was the worst fucking day of your life.

you were so tired of people telling you to ‘just leave’ like it was that simple. if it were, you would’ve been gone a long time ago. “even novalie tried to help,” you muttered, voice hollow.

“novalie?”

“my best friend.”

“she told the headmaster.” a humorless, bitter laugh escaped you. “but for fuck’s sake, what can you really do when the headmaster is your grandfather?”

fontaine had scoffed at the accusation, his expression cold and dismissive. archer wouldn’t do such a thing. his perfect grandson would never do something like that. and oh, how archer had smirked at you when you reported it - when fontaine barely spared you a glance before saying, ‘report false information again, and you will be expelled. both of you.”

you and novalie had left without a word. because what was there to say? the message was clear — archer was untouchable.

theodore stared at you, heart pounding. he wanted to tell you he wouldn’t let archer hurt you again, that you didn’t have to be afraid - but he could see it in your eyes. the fear. the exhaustion.

the belief that there was no way out.

his jaw tightened. his mind raced. and then, suddenly, his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “fine,” he said, voice calm. “i’ll transfer to ilvermorny and spend every single day fucking his life up.”

“theo -“

“i mean it.” his gaze darkened, his fists still clenched at his sides. “if he thinks he can do this to you and get away with it, he’s dead fucking wrong.”

for a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, your heart pounding as hard as his.

he wasn’t just saying this. he meant it.

you stayed silent, and theodore waited, expecting you to say something, anything. but you didn’t. you simply stared at him for a moment before turning away, opening the door, and slamming it shut behind you.

—

the ilvermorny campus was alive with color and sound, with students hopping from booth to booth at the annual fundraiser event. laughter rang in the air, mixed with the occasional cheer from someone winning a prize or the playful groans of a lost game. banners waved in the waft, enchanted lights twinkled despite it being midday, and the scent of caramel popcorn and cotton candy lingered around every corner.

at the far end of the courtyard stood the cupid booth, easily one of the most talked about attractions. the booth was an oversized, ridiculous pink monstrosity, covered in paper hearts, glittering fairy lights, and a glowing neon sign that read; FIND YOUR PERFECT MATCH! the magic of the booth was its biggest draw - once inside, the space expanded into a cozy, candle lit room, perfect for a blind date experience.

novalie was handling the sign-ups when theodore strolled up, hands in his pockets, looking as if he wasn’t taking the event remotely seriously.

novalie barely spared him a glance. “not a chance, nott. move along.”

theodore was about to ask how she knew his name but quickly remembered - she was your best friend. of course, you’d talked about him. and judging by the way she was silently glaring at him, it hadn’t been in the most flattering light.

with that in mind, theodore smirked. “i haven’t even said anything yet.”

“you want me to set you up with her.”

he shrugged. “what can i say? i’m a man of simple desires.”

novalie rolled her eyes, arms crossed. “yeah? and i desire not to deal with your nonsense.”

theodore leaned on the booth, dropping his voice. “come on, just slot me in.”

when novalie simply shook her head, theodore’s mind worked fast. then it clicked - blaise had mentioned that she’d been giving him ‘the eyes’ all night. or whatever the hell that meant. but despite that, she hadn’t made a move, and blaise, being the prideful idiot he was, refused to make one himself.

a complete pussy, if you asked theodore.

“okay, how about this,” theo said smoothly. “you set me up with her, and in return…” he leaned in conspiratorially. “i’ll put in a good word for you with blaise.”

novalie’s eyes narrowed, but there was interest in them now. “you’re lying.”

“why would i lie about my best friend? us guys aren’t like you girls.” novalie’s head snapped up from the sign up sheet. “watch your mouth.”

theodore tilted his head, unfazed. “come on, nov. blaise likes you, you know. he just needs a little… push t-“ “- don’t call me nov,” she scoffed, but the way she chewed her bottom lip gave her away. considering.

“a good word?”

“the best.”

novalie let out a dramatic sigh. “you are the most annoying person in existence.”

“thank you.”

she glared at him for a few more seconds before snatching a quill and scribbling something on the sign up sheet. “fine. but if you don’t follow through with blaise, i will hex you.” he couldn’t wait to tell blaise about this. about how much novalie actually cared enough to ask for a good word on her behalf.

theodore grinned. “noted.”

novalie found you near the ring toss booth, talking with some classmates and holding a bag of pink cotton candy. archer was nowhere to be seen, which was perfect - no chance of his annoying self barging in. novalie walked up to the group, ignoring the comment from one of the boys you were talking to, who started to say, “looking sexy, nov -“ she grabbed your wrist and yanked you away without a word.

“uh - what the hell?” you protested, stumbling after her. you licked your lips slightly, the sweet blend of cotton candy and your lip gloss lingering on your tongue.

“you, my queen, are going on a blind date.”

you blinked repeatedly. “excuse me?”

novalie gave you an innocent smile. “the cupid booth! it’s for charity! for love! and also, i signed you up.” you knew about the booth your best friend was running - you’d even helped her set up a few things. but that was as far as your involvement went; you’d help her, sure, but actually participating? that was out of the question.

you frowned. “since when?”

“five minutes ago.”

you tried to dig your heels in. “nope.” especially with archer lurking around — he could pop up anywhere at any time. and if he so much as caught you slipping into a blind date booth, you might as well start digging your own grave.

“oh, come on, it’ll be fun!”

“if archer sees -“

“- i’ll distract him -“

“ - and i hate blind dates.”

“but this one is special.”

“why?”

novalie hesitated. “um. because magic? and, uh, fate?” you’d known this girl for most of your life - you could spot her lies a mile away. she’d avoid your eyes, stare at the ground, and blink a little too much, all while keeping that small, devilish smile. you narrowed your eyes at her. “you’re hiding something.”

“no, i’m persuading.” she looped her arm through yours, practically dragging you toward the booth. “besides, it’s already set up, and it would be so rude to cancel last minute.”

“this is so sketchy,” you muttered.

novalie just beamed. “i know.”

you let her drag you along, occasionally glancing around to see if you could spot archer. you hadn’t, at least not since last night, which was strange. archer always woke up extra early, so he’d be the first person you’d see when leaving your dorm. he’d be right there by the horned serpent common room, waiting to walk you to class. at first, you thought it was just a cute safety thing. then you found out he did it to keep track of you at all times, in a way that felt more controlling than caring.

the inside of the cupid booth was nothing short of obnoxious. the moment you stepped through the curtain, the small wooden booth melted away into an entirely different space - one far bigger than it had any right to be.

It looked like valentine’s day and a unicorn had a baby, and then it exploded inside.

the walls were soft pink with gold trimmings, floating candles hovering above, casting a warm glow. a plush loveseat sat in the center, positioned near a tiny table with a tea set and a tray of chocolate covered strawberries. delicate roses curled up the corners of the space, enchanted so they occasionally released petals that disappeared before they could touch the floor.

you groaned. “i hate this.”

“you love this,” novalie corrected, pushing you forward.

“i’m going to kill you.”

“you can try! enjoy your date!” she yanked the curtain shut behind you. you watched as the shadow behind the curtain shrank and vanished, just as you muttered the words. “this better not be with some random -“

“wow,” theodore drawled, lounging casually on the loveseat, one arm draped along the backrest. “for someone who hates blind dates, you sure walked into this one easily.”

your stomach dropped. you spun to glare at the curtain. “NOVALIE!”

a muffled giggle was your only response.

theodore smirked. “so, should we start with tea, or do you just want to skip to the part where you fall madly in love with me?”

you didn’t know why he was still trying to reach you. you didn’t understand why he kept making an effort to talk to you when you’d made it clear so many times that you wanted him to just drop it. “why do you keep doing this?” you asked, your voice cracking, frustration bubbling beneath your words.

theodore’s smile faltered, replaced by that same look that made you want to slap the hell out of him. how could he look so damn handsome and yet so damn sad all the time?

“it’s always ‘why i do things’ with you,” theodore said, shaking his head. “someone shows you kindness, and suddenly you don’t know how to function properly.” theodore had you all figured out: you can whisper the melody, but you can’t make someone listen to the song.

you weren’t listening. your eyes were locked on his hands - more specifically, the bruises all over his knuckles. they looked like they’d been hitting something over and over, a thousand times. “…what happened to your hand?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

theodore hesitated, his jaw tightening. “what? thought i was just going to let that bloke roam free?” the words hung in the air for a moment, and you could feel your heart race as your thoughts spun. “what? why?”

“if his little grandfather asks,” theodore continued, his tone low, “he promised to tell him his dumbass tripped and fell somewhere.”

you stared at him, speechless.

he was still holding your gaze, and then he shrugged. “when your father’s a nott, and your best friend’s a malfoy, anything’s possible.”

your mind was reeling, processing it all; the violence, the anger. archer being hurt. theodore beating the shit out of him. theodore was waiting for you to be angry, but you couldn’t even speak. you just stood there, trying to make sense of the mess between you.

then, without warning, you started walking toward him. 10 INCHES: theodore tensed. the look on your face - he didn’t recognize it. and for that reason alone, he was fully convinced you were about to slap him. 5 INCHES: he braced himself, fingers twitching. maybe he should stop you. maybe he should fight back. but, honestly? he probably deserved it. 2 INCHES: you were close now. close enough to lift your hand, to hit him, to let all your anger spill out. 1 INCHES: but instead of striking him, you closed the distance — and kissed him.

for a split second, theodore froze, completely caught off guard. but then, instinct took over, and he melted into it. your bottom lip slipped between his parted lips with ease, the kiss so desperate, so messy, and filled with all the things neither of you had been able to say.

each kiss was a thank you. one — thank you. another — thank you. and another. thank you. thank you. thank you.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Hi ivy! For the holiday enemies to lovers prompts can you do 1,3,4 with Theo nott? Ofc you don’t have to use all of them if you don’t want to! Those 3 really stood out to me and I couldn’t pick just one 😅 thank you lovely!

SO, WHAT DOES THEODORE NOTT LIKE?.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ T. NOTT

SUMMARY ৎ୭ ever since you picked theodore nott for secret santa, you've been in absolute denial about caring. you’re definitely not going out of your way to find the perfect gift, and you’re absolutely not asking his friends totally casual questions about his interests. but when you find out he’s staying at hogwarts for the holidays, you can’t help but pry—and somehow, along the way, you might just end up learning more about him than you ever planned to

WARNINGS ಇ. a very dramatic and nosy hufflepuff, flustered moments, and a slight identity crisis when you realize you might actually like him MORE OF THESE TWO ￫ ୨ৎ (coming soon....) A/N ಇ. assuming this is your request @astonishment, thank you so much requesting! hope you like it ‹𝟹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,673

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

There were exactly 47 hours and 12 minutes until the Hogwarts Secret Santa reveal, and you were on the verge of losing your entire mind.

Why? Because you had drawn Theodore freaking Nott as your Secret Santa recipient. Of all the people at Hogwarts, it had to be him: the cold, brooding, insufferable Slytherin who looked at you like you were the human embodiment of an unwashed sock.

“I’m cursed,” you moaned dramatically, sprawled across the couch in the Hufflepuff common room. “There’s no other explanation.”

From her chair by the fireplace, your friend Sarah barely looked up from her book. “What are you on about now?”

“My life is over,” you said, tossing an arm across your eyes for good measure. “I’ve been assigned him. The human icicle. The walking void of emotion.”

Sarah blinked. “You got Theodore Nott?”

You bolted upright, grabbing her arm like she’d just offered to save you from a sinking ship. “What do I do, Sarah?! What do you get someone who hates everything? A rock? A lump of coal?”

“Well…” Sarah started, but you were already off the couch and pacing.

“He’s going to hate anything I give him,” you wailed, hands flailing. “But I can’t not give him something because then I’ll look like a terrible person, and I’m not a terrible person, Sarah! I’m a Hufflepuff! We are legally obligated to be nice!”

“Legally?” Sarah said dryly, but you ignored her.

“And I can’t ask him what he likes because then he’ll know it’s me, and then he’ll think I’m stalking him, and—oh my gosh, what if he reports me to Snape?!”

“You’re spiralling,” Sarah said, but you were already halfway out the door.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Step one in your (brilliant, totally foolproof) plan was to interrogate Theodore’s friends. Casually. Subtly. Like a normal person.

Spoiler: You were not a normal person.

“Enzo!” you said brightly, sliding into the seat next to Lorenzo Berkshire at breakfast. “How’s it going? How’s life? How are your socks? Warm? Good. So, what does Theodore Nott like?”

Lorenzo froze mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “What?”

“You know, hobbies, interests, favorite snacks, deepest fears,” you said, waving a hand. “The usual.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, no reason!” You laughed—a little too loudly. “Just curious.”

“Is this for Secret Santa?” he asked, smirking. “Wait. Did you get Theo? Merlin’s beard, you got Theo!”

“NO!” you practically yelled, nearly knocking over your pumpkin juice. “Of course not! That would be absurd. Ha! Ha ha ha!”

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Am not!” you huffed. “I’m just… conducting a holiday-themed survey. For… science.”

“For science?” he repeated, amused. “Right. Well, Sunshine, if you’re so curious about Theo, why don’t you just ask him?”

“BECAUSE!” You threw your hands in the air. “He’s scary, Enzo! He’ll probably hex me or—I don’t know—stare at me with those stupid intense eyes of his.”

“His stupid intense eyes?” Enzo grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you sure you don’t like him?”

“WHAT?!” You nearly fell out of your chair. “I don’t like him! I despise him! He’s rude and annoying and—ugh—he breathes too smugly!”

“Sure,” Enzo said, clearly not convinced. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were nothing if not persistent. So, against your better judgment, you cornered Theodore himself in the library.

“What are you doing for the holidays?” you asked, plopping into the chair across from him.

Theodore didn’t even look up from his book. “Why do you ask and/or care?”

“I don’t care,” you said quickly. “I was just… wondering.”

He finally glanced at you, one dark eyebrow raised. “Why?”

“Because I’m nice,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “And curious. And it’s the holidays! Aren’t we supposed to, like, bond or something?”

“I’d rather not,” he said, turning a page.

You scowled. “Wow. You really know how to spread holiday cheer, don’t you?”

“Was there a point to this?” he asked, looking at you like you were a particularly annoying fly buzzing around his head.

“Yes,” you said, folding your arms. “The point is… I was just wondering if you’re going home for Christmas.”

“No,” he said shortly. “Now, are we done here?”

Your scowl deepened. “Why aren’t you going home?”

“Why do you care?” he shot back.

“I don’t!” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. “I just… thought you might be lonely or something.”

Theodore’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Worried about me, Sunshine?”

“No!” you said, cheeks burning. “Don’t flatter yourself, Nott. I was just—ugh, forget it!”

You stood up so quickly you almost knocked over your chair, muttering under your breath as you stomped away. Behind you, Theodore chuckled softly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

By some miracle (or maybe sheer stubbornness), you managed to find the perfect gift: a leather-bound journal, simple yet elegant, with Theodore’s initials embossed on the cover.

When the time came for the Secret Santa exchange, you watched nervously as he unwrapped it, your palms clammy and your heart pounding.

He stared at the journal for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he looked up, his piercing green eyes locking onto yours.

“Did you…?” he started, but you cut him off.

“It’s not a big deal!” you said quickly, waving your hands. “I just—I mean, you don’t have to like it or anything. It’s fine if you hate it. I just thought—”

“Mio sole,” he interrupted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “It’s perfect.”

You froze, your brain short-circuiting. “It… it is?”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, because you didn’t know what else to do, you blurted, “You’re welcome! Merry Christmas! Okay, bye!”

You practically sprinted out of the room, your face burning, but you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

Maybe Theodore Nott wasn’t so bad after all.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Later, when you were sitting by the fire, Lorenzo plopped down beside you with a smug grin.

“So,” he said, nudging you. “You gave Theo his gift. How’d it go?”

“Fine,” you said, playing with the hem of your sweater. “He liked it.”

“‘Liked it,’” Lorenzo repeated. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “That’s all.”

Lorenzo smirked. “You’re blushing, Sunshine.”

“I am not!”

Across the room, Theodore caught your eye, and for the briefest moment, he smiled—a real, genuine smile. Your heart did a little flip, and you quickly looked away.

Lorenzo laughed. “Yeah. Totally not blushing.”

“Shut up, Enzo!”

Lorenzo's laughter trailed off as you smacked his arm, though he didn’t stop smirking like the absolute menace he was. You crossed your arms and sank deeper into your seat, huffing.

“Say, Enzo,” you began, your voice carefully nonchalant, “you know Italian, right?”

He raised a curious eyebrow but shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

You turned to face him, fiddling nervously with the hem of your sleeve. “What does… uh… mio sole mean?”

The smirk that spread across his face was so smug, you immediately regretted asking. “Ohhh,” he drawled, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Who called you that?”

“No one!” you said, your voice jumping an octave. “I just heard it somewhere, that’s all. Totally random. Not a big deal!”

Enzo’s eyebrows wiggled like he was performing some sort of comedy act. “Not a big deal, huh? Sure. Well, it means ‘my sun.’ You know, like…” He trailed off dramatically before pointing straight at you. “Sunshine. My sunshine.”

Your face burned so hot, you were pretty sure you were moments away from combusting. “Oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely audible.

Enzo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So, Sunshine, care to explain who’s been whispering sweet nothings in Italian to you?”

“No one!” you said again, practically shouting this time. “I told you, I just heard it somewhere! That’s all! Ugh, you’re so annoying, Enzo!”

“I’m annoying?” he said with mock offense. “You’re the one coming to me with your mysterious Italian phrases. Next thing I know, you’ll be asking me how to confess your undying love to Theo in flawless Tuscan dialect.”

Your gasp was so loud, half the common room turned to look at you. “Excuse me?!”

Enzo’s smirk widened. “You’re excused.”

You sputtered incoherently, your brain a tangled mess of embarrassment and indignation. “I—he—there is nothing—you are impossible, Lorenzo Berkshire!”

Enzo laughed so hard, he nearly fell out of his chair. Meanwhile, you crossed your arms and buried your face in your hands, silently vowing to never speak to him again.

Across the room, Theodore caught your eye once more, his lips quirking up in a small, knowing smile. Your stomach flipped again, and you quickly turned away, cheeks blazing.

Enzo, noticing the exchange, gasped dramatically. “It is Theo, isn’t it?! Sunshine, you sly little—”

“ENOUGH!” You groaned, grabbing a cushion and whacking him with it. Enzo, of course, only laughed harder.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work, translate, or repost any of my work.

[birdiewritessometimes]

ellooo I love your writing smm and I was hoping I could request a Mattheo riddle or Theo Nott x hufflepuff reader (which ever you decide) I feel like you can create a cute fluffy story with either of them being so soft for the reader (or whatever direction you want to take this towards)ㅤ ᵕ̈

Magical Matchmaker

A/N: Hii! Thank you so much for reading my writing and liking it <3 I’m sorry for the wait, I actually started this one before you sent in the request and it fit perfectly together. I’m sorry you had to wait so long for it though but I hope I’m making up for it in length! I shit you not, Archie is based on my cat and he loved toe bean massage! Also I promise I don’t hate Draco he’s just a perfect character to show how the slytherin boys values people I guess. Also, also, Slytherin boys + astronomy tower = <3 Btw its always Cormac who is an annoying ass…

Archie is my first cute little oc, he might make appearances later on in other stories since i love him so much <3

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!reader

Themes/warnings: Fluff, fighting, blood, smoking, that’s all I could think of, please let me know if there’s more

Word count: 7500-ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

The soft rumble of the train could be heard as you walked through the train corridor. You were holding your cat, Archimedes, in your arms. The black cat was comfortably asleep as you searched the compartments for your friends, Hannah Abbott and Megan Jones. The train had just left the station around five minutes ago, yet you can’t seem to find your friends anywhere. Archimedes awoke when you stopped at one compartment to peer inside for your friends. Inside sat a group of boys, known for starting fights, talking back to teachers and just being trouble in general, most students were wary of them. They were in your year, all in Slytherin. In your time at Hogwarts, you had managed to stay clear of their radar. That all came to change the moment Archimedes jumped out of your arms and sneaked into the loud boys’ compartment. Your blood ran cold when you saw him jump up in one of the boys’ lap. You prepared yourself to go in there to apologise but you stopped when you saw how the curly haired boy gently petted Archimedes’ head, a smile on his face.

“Oi, where did that cat come from?” One of the boys, you recognised him as Blaise Zabini, he was known as a flirt, asked. The boy who held your cat in his lap was Mattheo Riddle, he was known as the intimidating, scary boy most people feared. The other two boys were Theodore Nott, the quiet one, and Lorenzo Berkshire, the sweet one in the group. You saw how Lorenzo leaned over to pet Archimedes.

“He is so cute.” He said as he also petted your cat. You saw how Mattheo swatted his hand away a playful frown on his face.

“Hey, he came to me, back of Enzo.” You heard him mutter irritably before continuing to pet Archimedes’ head gently. The scene in front of you made you smile; it almost made you forget who you were staring at. They looked so innocent as they surveyed Archimedes. Mattheo had a soft smile on his face while Lorenzo had a mischievous one, continuously trying to pet him. Theodore was chuckling at the scene while Blaise was grinning widely. Realising the situation you gently knocked on the door before sliding it open so you could stand in the doorway. All four boys snapped their eyes towards you, tearing their eyes from your cat. You cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Hi, uh, I’m sorry, Archimedes, my cat sneaked in here…” You trailed off, feeling more awkward by the second as they just stared at you, Mattheo still petting your very content cat’s head.

“Y/n, right? I didn’t know you had a cat.” Theodore cleared his throat, his eyebrows furrowed. You let out an awkward chuckle, the whole situation made you feel out of place. Like you had intruded and, in some way, you suppose you did. But you didn’t want to lose Archimedes on the train, he was a pain to find again, since he was deaf.

“Yep, since first year.” You confirmed, you could feel an amused smile make its way to your face at the awkward situation. They were looking at you like they have never seen you before, or like you were some sort of alien. Your eyes travelled to the curly haired boy who you’re your cat. He looked like he would rather die than to let you have Archimedes back.

“Y/n? You’re a Hufflepuff right?” Lorenzo asked, giving you a kind smile, probably trying to ease the weird atmosphere, which you returned.

“Yep, also since first year.” You chuckled, making him chuckle too. You saw that the rest of the group smiled at you too, except for Mattheo.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth that he really is yours?” Mattheo asked suspiciously, you let out a chuckle again at him. His eyebrow shifted upwards as he gave you a suspecting look. You nodded at your cat’s collar.

“Check his collar, his name, my name and my address are on there.” You said, now feeling amused at the situation. It seemed like Mattheo was trying to stall giving him back to you. You saw how Mattheo gently checked the tag on Archimedes’ collar, a frown on his face.

“Archimedes, y/n l/n, 71 The Green, London.” He mumbled, a sulking look on his face, this made you let out a giggle. Deciding to tune in with your kindness, that Hufflepuffs valued so much, you decided to let him cuddle Archimedes for the train ride.

“You’re welcome to cuddle him if you’d like, but do you mind if I sit then? I don’t want to lose him.” You said, but you realised your mistake as the words left your mouth. Mattheos eyebrows shot up in a questioning manner.

“No, wait, I didn’t mean that I don’t trust you with him, it’s just that he is, uh, deaf, so I don’t want to leave him on the train.” You rambled, feeling more embarrassed by the second. Mattheo’s face went back to normal, as he didn’t bother to answer you. You saw how Lorenzo and Theodore made space for you to sit next to them, to which you smiled and sat down. You saw how Mattheo lifted your cat, so they were face to face, Archimedes purring loudly.

“So, you’re deaf huh? And you have a silly name.” He muttered to your cat.

“Hey, my son doesn’t have a silly name! It’s cute.” You said defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. This made the group chuckle and Mattheo to look past Archimedes and at you, an eyebrow raised in mock questioning.

“Damn, I didn’t know that you were a MILF, y/n.” Blaise said, a smirk on his face.

“Yeah- wait- I- no, what?” You stuttered out, completely taken aback by his comment. Mattheo let your cat back down on his lap before he whacked Blaise over the back of the head with a loud ‘smack’.

“Behave.” He muttered irritably.

“Don’t mind Blaise, his mum dropped him on his head when he was a baby.” Theodore mumbled from beside Lorenzo on the stuffy train seat that you now shared. You gave him a grateful smile as a reply before letting out a short laugh at his comment.

“Where did the name Archimedes come from anyways?” Mattheo asked nonchalantly, the question made a blush rise on your cheeks.

“Oh, my favourite film when I was little was the muggle film about king Arthur, it’s called the sword in the stone. Well, Merlin’s owl was called Archimedes in the movie, and I thought it was cute.” You explained which earned you a chuckle from the group.

“So not even like from the famous muggle guy? But like from a film?” Lorenzo said, a teasing tone in his voice. The question made you let out an embarrassed chuckle.

“Well, I was never into maths when I was little, just magic I guess, I failed maths every year I had to take it in muggle school.” You shrugged, not even thinking about the confession you just made.

“So, you’re muggleborn?” Theodore asked lightly, but the question was loaded, considering what some people, mostly Slytherins, thought about muggleborns. You felt slightly nervous due to the fact that you know whose son sat in front of you. Now you have never heard him utter as much as one bad word against muggleborns, but he did surround himself with pureblood wizards.

“Uh, yeah, that a problem?” You asked, suspicion in your voice at the question. Theodore must have realised his mistake because his eyes widened in panic.

“Wait, no, of course not, we don’t care, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean the question like that.” He apologised.

“Don’t worry, we’re not like Malfoy, we don’t care who your family is.” Lorenzo added, a gentle smile on his face. You looked at Blaise and Mattheo who nodded, a gentle expression on Mattheo’s face. It took you aback at first before a small smile broke out on your face.

“Good, because I think we will see a lot more of each other.” You said, brightness back in your voice. The boys gave you a look of confusion.

“Because Archimedes obviously likes you.” You said as a matter of fact, an answer to their questioning looks. They let out a chuckle and hummed in agreement. The boys then started talking about their summers on the ride back to school. They discussed what they did during summer and the excitement for the quidditch season to begin. At one point Blaise asked you to switch places, Lorenzo and Theodore was going to show him pictures from the national quidditch match that they went to during the summer. As you sat next to Mattheo you could feel his cologne hit your nose, he smelled rich with a hint of cigarettes and mint. Archimedes was asleep on his lap, but when you sat down your cat stretched out, so he was laying on his side and had one paw on your leg. With a small smile you massaged his paw. You heard Mattheo let out a chuckle making you look up at him. He was looking at your cat, amusement in his eyes.

“He is really something isn’t he?” He muttered as he stroked the sleek black fur on Archimedes side. His silver rings contrasting against the dark fur on your cat.

“He is the best.” You answered softly as your eyes shifted from his face to his warm brown eyes. You had never really realised how attractive he was before. But when he had this soft half smile on his face and that soft look in his eyes when he looked at Archimedes made you realise why half the female population at school have or at least have had a crush on him. His eyes snapped to yours as you were studying his face. A crease appeared between his eyebrows as he surveyed you.

“You’re not scared of me.” It wasn’t a question. His statement made you smile, because if someone asked you how you felt about Mattheo before this you would’ve said that he made you nervous at least. But now he didn’t. You shook your head at his question.

“Why, should I be?” You asked in a teasing voice. You saw a teasing smile, an actual full smile, make its way onto his face.

“I don’t think so, but then that wouldn’t go with the whole 'scary aura' I have going on.” He answered with a small chuckle. He did quotation marks around the two words most of the student body used to describe him. You could feel a grin break out on your face at his smile.

“So, he can smile.” You teased, what gave you the confidence you don’t know, maybe it was the relaxed atmosphere in his group of friends or was it just the fact that he smiled at you. It was a testament to the fact that he wasn’t always scary or serious.

“Shut up.” He muttered as he tried to supress his smile, but to no avail.

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’ll notice if you get to know me that I am a yapper, I yap about everything.” You beamed up at him. He let out a chuckle at that.

“Really, about everything huh?” He asked, a smirk on his face to which you let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, everything, like the fact that cats are obviously so much better than owls, and that quidditch is a weird sport and that my favourite colour is copper, that my favourite condiment is ketchup, and, oh you’re laughing at me, but I can go on all night.” You giggled as Mattheo let out a chuckle at your ramble.

“Wait, you think quidditch is weird?” He realised what you had rambled about, you nodded at his question.

“Why?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face. The two of you were so engrossed in your conversation that you stopped noticing what the others talked about, they had switched their topic to the two of you.

“What do you recon? I think he likes her.” Blaise muttered to Lorenzo who was sitting in the middle.

“She obviously likes him, look at how she is looking at him.” Lorenzo added.

“Do you think the cat knows something about this, I mean he led her to him in the first place?” Theodore asked suspiciously. At that moment Archimedes lifted his head from Mattheo’s hand, just as if he had heard him, and blinked slowly at the three boys on the seat opposite him.

“No fucking way.” Blaise said to which Lorenzo and Theodore nodded stunned.

“What’s not weird about quidditch?” You asked at the same time as the conversation between the other took place.

“What’s weird about it?” Mattheo countered.

“It’s a sport you play on broomsticks, it has no time limit, you beat balls at each other, come on Mattheo, you have to admit that that’s weird.” You gestured as you tried to get your point across.

“Oh, I think that’s perfectly normal.” He argued which made you let out a laugh.

“You’re only saying that for the arguments sake.” You said with a laugh, Mattheo let out a laugh of his own at this.

“Are we having our first argument as friends?” He asked, a teasing note in his voice.

“Hmm, I don’t know, are we friends?” You teased back. Mattheo reacted to this by placing his hand over where his heart is, in mock hurt.

“You wound me, love.” You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in record time at the nickname.

“I- uh, what?” You let out in your flustered state as your eyes shifted from his to your cat that still laid in his lap. You felt a finger poke your cheek.

“You’re cute when you blush, princess.” He said, really stressing the princess-part. You swatted his finger away, despite your flustered state.

“Oh, shut up Mattheo.” You laughed and what you didn’t see, but the three boys opposite you in the compartment noticed was the gentle smile on Mattheo’s face as he watched you laugh. It was softer than it usually was. The cold stare and frown that his face usually consisted of were replaced by a soft smile and gentle eyes. The same look he had when he saw Archimedes for the first time just hours ago. Time went by quickly on the Hogwarts express and before you knew it you found yourself on the platform moving along with the boys towards the carriages. As you walked, Archimedes in your arms once again, you tried looking for your two friends. You couldn’t see them anywhere on the platform. You felt an arm around your body as you walked, you looked to the side and found Mattheo by your side, leading you through the crowd to follow his friends.

“Come on, you can find your friends at the castle, when there isn’t that much chaos.” He muttered in your ear. You felt the blush rise to your cheeks once again, this time because of his proximity. Before you knew it you reached the carriages and you felt Mattheo’s warm hand on your back as you climbed up the small steps, Archimedes still in your arms. You felt hot, despite the cold evening air that swept around you.

“You okay y/n?” Theodore asked when he saw your face. The carriage started moving towards the castle after Mattheo had entered.

“Yeah, you look a bit red, are you cold?” Lorenzo asked, genuine concern on his face. If he only knew that you were feeling everything but cold. You dared to take a peak at Mattheo who was wearing a small smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You cleared your throat and directed a grateful smile at Theodore and Lorenzo before directing a glare at Mattheo, who sent you a wink in return. The rest of the ride up to the castle consisted of the boys talking loudly with each other. Playful insults and banter were thrown around along with the occasional joke which made the atmosphere lively and fun. As the carriage came to a stop before the entrance the boys all got out. When it was your turn you saw that Mattheo was standing by the entrance, ready to help you down. You sent him a grateful smile but before you could even as much as take a step down, he had grabbed you around the waist and swiftly lifted you down to the ground leaving you speechless. You could hear how the others tried to keep in their laughter as they saw your stunned face.

“I- they- they should call you the flirty one, not Blaise!” You let out when you came back to your senses, this was the thing that made the others burst out laughing, Mattheo full on grinning at you.

“What? I’m just being friendly.” Mattheo said innocently making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Oh, shut up, darling.” You said the pet name sarcastically before you slowly started to make your way into the castle, leaving the boys outside.

“See you later, love!” Mattheo shouted after you, a grin on his face, his friends still chuckling. When you entered the castle, you let Archimedes go to do some exploring, knowing that he will always be in your bed by night. You entered the great hall and saw the usual enchanted ceiling that hovered over the four house tables. The Hufflepuff one was one of the tables in the middle, next to the Slytherin table on the left and the Ravenclaw table on the right. Right next to the Ravenclaw table was the Gryffindor table. You found your friends; they were seated in the middle of the table. You ran over to them with excitement as they stood up and embraced you in a group hug. Hannah was on the Hufflepuff quidditch team as you and Megan chose to focus more on your academics. Not that Hannah wasn’t good in school, she was brilliant, she just chose to focus more on sports. The three of you sat down and caught up with each other, about how your summers were and what subjects you were excited about. After the sorting you talked, laughed and ate with your friends, completely forgetting to fill them in on your train ride here. With your bellies full you and your friends made your way down to the Hufflepuff common room and to your dorms. You were quiet with tiredness as you got ready for bed. You were out before your head even hit the pillow, Archimedes comfortably asleep on the extra pillow on your bed by your head.

The first day back went by quickly and before you knew it you were doing your homework in the great hall with Hannah and Megan as you waited for dinner. Archimedes were sitting on the bench next to you, extremely interested in the movements of your quill. You were working on an essay for defence against the dark arts, two rolls of parchment on how to identify and protect yourself from a kelpie, a water demon who looks like a horse. While you were thinking of how to write your next paragraph you looked up from your work. Your eyes searched the room, like they seemed to do automatically since you’ve been back, until they met the copper brown eyes of Mattheo. You have found yourself looking for him in every room you entered since you met him. You sat there looking at each other for a moment. You sent him a soft smile, which he replied with one of his soft looks. You felt a blush rise to your cheek as you broke your eye contact, just after you saw the slight smirk on his face. It seemed like Archimedes noticed Mattheo too, because with a sound that sounded like a pigeon he jumped off the bench and dashed over to Mattheo and his friends. You smiled when you saw how your cat head butted Mattheo’s arm, begging for attention. You saw how Mattheo smiled and lifted your cat up on the table so he could pet him easier while he talked to his friends. Archimedes looked at you for a long while before curling up in front of Mattheo.

Over the next couple of days you noticed that whenever Mattheo was close by Archimedes would run to him, begging for attention. All while staring at you. You assumed it was because he really liked the boy, but you couldn’t lie, it hurt a little that the cat you nursed since he was a kitten chose a boy he had just met over you. It was Friday night, after dinner, you were relaxing in your dorm when your cat tried to get you to follow him, so you did. Archimedes was walking hurriedly along the corridors of the castle. He was leading you up multiple stairs, through passageways and along corridors. Soon enough you found yourself at the foot of the stairs that led up to the astronomy tower. You looked suspiciously at your cat who had started to climb the stairs.

“Archie, are you sure about this? It feels like you’re trying to trick me.” You muttered but started to walk up the stairs anyway. You followed your cat up the stairs in silence but when you neared the top Archimedes started running up the stairs.

“Archie, wait!” You shouted, as if he could hear you. When you reached the top of the stairs you stopped. There was Mattheo standing by the rail, curls windswept, looking cozy in a sweater and your cat was stroking his body along his legs. Mattheo was smoking a cigarette as he looked at your cat stunned, before shifting his eyes to you.

“How did he know I was here?” He asked you, confusion in his voice. You looked at him bewildered.

“I have no idea; he dragged me out of my dorm for this.” You said, confusion in your voice too. Mattheo beckoned you to come closer and your body moved before you could think.

“Could you hold this for me?” He asked as he stuck his cigarette out for you to hold. You took it awkwardly and held it between your index and thumb as Mattheo removed his sweatshirt. You saw how he folded up the material and placed it by the castle wall. In an instant Archimedes was lying on it, looking extremely content. You felt a soft smile form on your face when you watched how the boy cared for your cat.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You said softly as you stared at the boy in front of you. He let out a chuckle as he took his cigarette back.

“I take it that you don’t know that your cat seems to be obsessed with my sweaters, I’ve found him in my sweatshirt drawer like three times this week.” He said with a chuckle. You let out a startled laugh

“What? No, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry Mattheo, I don’t know what has gotten into him.” You said apologetically. Mattheo waved your apology away.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m quite fond of him.” He admitted.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed…” You muttered, reminded of the fact that your cat seemed to have a new favourite person. Mattheo raised an eyebrow as he took a drag of his cigarette, a silent question in the air.

“It’s just, he seems to be obsessed with you, and it hurts because I was the one who fed him with a bottle when he was a kitten.” You let out with a pout. Mattheo let out a laugh before throwing his arm over your shoulders, dragging you into him. You didn’t register what was happening as he squeezed you, sort of like a half hug, but with your face in his chest. His warmth surrounded you along with the scent of his cologne mixed with the smoke from the cigarette.

“I’m sure he loves you the most, you’re still his mum you know.” Mattheo said softly, his arm still around your shoulders, holding you close. You looked up at him with big eyes, he had a small smirk on his handsome face as he took another drag of the cigarette. Your eyes travelled down to his hand and then down his exposed arm. That’s when you noticed the goosebumps on his skin and your eyes snapped back to his.

“Is the reason why you’re holding me like this because you’re cold?” You asked suspiciously. Mattheo let out a startled chuckle.

“What, no? You looked cold, so I thought you would like a hug.” He said, his voice slightly higher than his usual smooth voice.

“Liar!” You said, a laugh escaping you as you pointed an accusing finger at him. He put out his cigarette, tossing the butt over the railing before letting both of his hands find your waist inside the zip up hoodie you were wearing while letting out a chuckle.

“I’m not! Now you seemed to enjoy this last time.” He said, his voice smooth as he looked straight in your eyes. He was obviously hinting at when he ‘helped’ you down from the carriage, you were determined to not fold this time.

“Don’t try to deflect this to me, Mattheo.” You said, a grin on your face, you saw how a smile appeared on his face too. Your hands found their place on his chest as the two of you stood there, smiling at each other. If you thought about it, it was kind of weird, you had only known each other for a week, but then again you have been classmates since first year so maybe it wasn’t that weird that you now stood here, in his embrace, staring up in his beautiful copper-like eyes.

“You know, Theo said something that sounded something along the ramblings of a mad man the other day when we found Archimedes in my room.” He said lowly, careful not to ruin the moment.

“What did he say?” You breathed out.

“He said that your cat was trying to get us together.” He mumbled, his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips briefly. Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment, before his eyes met yours again.

“You’re right, he did sound like a mad man.” You mumbled back, your own eyes wandering his beautiful face. Because if you had to describe him with one word it had to be beautiful. Your eyes wandered from his eyes to the scar on his nose, to his pink lips, to his jaw, back to his eyes, paying extra attention to the scar that ran across his eyebrow. You felt breathless as the wind carried his cologne to your nose, the smell of cigarettes intensified from the one he just had. You felt how his hand traced shapes on your back, right over the fabric of your sleepshirt and you thought your brain stopped working for a moment.

“Theo didn’t sound like a mad man, Theo was right.” The voice of none other than Theodore broke the spell between the two of you, both of you jumped back, as if you were burned, “Please tell me that you guys saw that?” Theo asked Lorenzo and Blaise who was standing beside him at the top of the stairs.

“Yep.” Lorenzo said.

“Clear as day.” Blaise added before looking around, “And look, Archimedes is here, what a coincidence.” He added sarcastically.

“You guys sound very paranoid; he is just a normal cat.” You said with a laugh, after you had collected yourself from what ever had been going on with you and Mattheo. You leaned against the cold railing on the astronomy tower.

“You don’t think it’s a little weird how obsessed he is with Mattheo?” Lorenzo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Hey, what do I know, maybe he likes his energy, or I don’t know, his cologne maybe, it is good by the way,” you added, nodding to Mattheo who chuckled, “or he is just a weird cat who makes weird decisions.” You shrugged. The three boys looked at you for a moment in silence.

“Nah!” They all let out making you giggle.

“So, you would rather believe that he is some magical matchmaker?” You asked, disbelief mixed with amusement laced your voice. You heard Mattheo chuckle from beside you. The response consisted of various agreeing mumbles.

“So, what were you two doing before we came here?” Blaise asked while wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, because what were you doing? What would’ve happened if you weren’t interrupted? The thoughts made your blush intensify.

“I- we- we were, uh… oh look at the time, I got to get to bed, we have class tomorrow.” You rambled while going to pick up Archimedes and get out of there, the embarrassment filling you up. You heard chuckles and when you turned to walk away you came face to chest with Mattheo.

“Now where are you going, princess?” He asked, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Uh, to bed?” It came out like a question more than an answer.

“I bet Mattheo would die to join her.” You heard Blaise mutter to the others who burst out in quiet laughter. If Mattheo heard him, he didn’t let on. You bit your lower lip, as an attempt to stifle the embarrassment but also the giddiness you were feeling.

“Darling, it’s Friday, we don’t have class tomorrow.” He said slowly, his smirk growing into a whole grin when he saw that it dawned on you. You heard the others chuckling loudly at you, making you send a glare at them. They stopped laughing as they put their hands up in mock surrender. You nodded at Mattheo and put Archimedes down on Mattheo’s sweatshirt again. You ended up staying with them for a while, after the embarrassment subdued. You noticed that if you weren’t counting Mattheo, you had the most in common with Theo. Despite him thinking that your cat was some magical match maker. They were all really funny and you were really grateful for being able to see this side of them. You and Theo would gang up on Mattheo, poking fun at him through the night, Enzo and Blaise joining in from time to time. After a couple of hours, you started to feel tired, Archimedes had moved from the spot in Mattheo’s sweater to your lap, making you feel loved by your cat again. Mattheo bumped your shoulder when you stifled your like 10th yawn for the evening. You looked at him with a small smile before looking around at the others.

“I’m sorry boys, I’m too tired,” you yawned, “I’m going to bed.” You said with a sleepy smile on your face. They nodded understandingly. You stood up, Archimedes was asleep in your arms, like usual. The boys all said their various ‘good nights’ to you, but Mattheo rose to his feet and followed you to the stairs. You stopped at the top of the stairs.

“You don’t have to walk me back, I’ll manage.” You smiled at the boy before you as you placed what you thought to be a grateful hand on his arm. Mattheo looked like he wanted to say something, balling his hand into a fist before releasing it again and again. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern.

“Are you okay, Mattheo?” You asked gently. He let out a breath before looking you directly in the eye.

“Yeah,” he let out another breath, “just get back safe, okay?” He said before letting his hand brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His hand rested on the side of you neck before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, right by your hairline. You think your brain stopped working and your heart went into overdrive. You stared at him with wide eyes, a blush dusting your cheeks from his actions. He was watching you intently for any sign of discomfort. His large, warm hand, calloused from quidditch, was still resting on the side of your neck. He could no doubt feel your rapid pulse. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you finally came to it. You gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, good night.” You let out softly, the smile still on your face. You noticed that a similar smile made its way onto his face as well as he muttered a ‘good night’ back before you started to descend the stairs and make your way back to your dorm. You fell asleep thinking of him, Archimedes sleeping soundly on the pillow next to you. Over the next couple of weeks you realised that the feelings you had for Mattheo weren’t exactly as platonic as you thought they were in the beginning. You had started to hang out with the notorious boys more. You realised that you had developed a crush on the boy one night when the two of you were hanging out in the astronomy tower. The others hadn’t shown up yet, Archimedes were sleeping on the extra sweater Mattheo had brought for him, and you were sitting next to each other, shoulders touching, as he smoked his cigarette. You were joking about Cormac McLaggen, the older Gryffindor had a pompous air about him which the two of you found hilarious.

“And he thinks he’s so much better than everyone, god, I hate him.” Mattheo laughed to which you were laughing along.

“Also, that he totally turns into a douche if you reject him.” You gossiped.

“Really?” Mattheo asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, he asked my friend Megan out last year, she very politely declined, and he called her a bitch and stormed off.” You explained. You saw how Mattheo looked at you with a look between disbelief and irritation.

“He is such a tool, I wish I had a reason to kick his ass.” Mattheo muttered irritably. You let out a chuckle and turned your body fully to him, grabbing his face between your hands, slightly squishing it. His face made you let out a giggle.

“Hey, no need to fight him when you’re already better than him.” You giggled before letting go of his face. You saw a small smile on his face before he took another drag of his cigarette. This was the moment you realised, you liked him more than a friend. Little did you know that about a week after this Mattheo had gotten a reason to kick Cormac’s ass. You were walking with Hannah and Megan to lunch, it was a Friday, now early November. The castle was chilly, and the grounds wet from all the rain. Hufflepuff had beaten Ravenclaw in the first quidditch match a couple of weeks ago. Archimedes had found you while you were walking, and you had scoped your cat up in your arms. When you rounded a corner and into another corridor Cormac stopped you.

“Hi, y/n, do you have a second?” He had asked.

“Yeah,” you turned to your friends, “I’ll see you guys in lunch.” You told them, you assumed he wanted help with herbology, since you had a particular knack for the subject. You turned to Cormac with a smile but before you could say anything Archimedes leapt out of your arms and dashed around the corner you just came from.

“How can I help you, Cormac?” You asked kindly, even if you’d just made fun of him with Mattheo some time ago. He stepped closer to you, closer than comfortable. His strong, overpowering cologne hit your nose, almost making you sneeze.

“What do you say, how about a date? I can take you to Hogsmeade before taking you back to my dorm.” He wiggled his eyebrows. You tried your best not to make a face at his sleazy attempt at asking you out on a date.

“No, I’m sorry Cormac-”

“Come on, it will be worth your while, I’ve heard I’m a very good date.” He pressed on, stepping even closer to you, making your take a step back.

“She said no.” The voice of Mattheo startled you. He was staring Cormac down, his look dangerous. By his feet was no other than Archimedes. You scoped you cat up agian as you shifted your attention back to the tense situation before you. Mattheo looked scary, almost dangerous like this. His fist clenched, his eyes focused on Cormac, like he was some prey, he was clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“Look man,” Cormac lightly clapped Mattheo on his arm before continuing, “this has nothing to do with you, so how about you move along, huh?” what a brave man, you thought because Mattheo’s whole face darkened at this.

“What’s so hard to understand about the word ‘no’?” Mattheo asked, his voice cold and hard. You heard footsteps round the corner and cast a quick look behind you. It was Blaise, Theo and Enzo. It made you feel a bit better. You gently placed a hand on Mattheo’s arm, trying to diffuse the tense situation.

“Come on, Mattheo, let’s just go.” You said softly before turning to Cormac, “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” You said with the kindest voice you could muster. Then you heard it, it made your blood run cold. Cormac had muttered something under his breath right before straightening up. Mattheo heard it too.

“What did you say?” He asked, anger clear in his voice. Cormac, who wasn’t known for his superior intellect, repeated what he said, louder this time.

“Whatever, who wants a mudblood anyways.” He said, a smug smirk on his face. You felt tears prickle in the corner of your eyes. You hadn’t been called that in a long time. You felt a hand grab your arm, pulling you away from Mattheo, it was Theo. Tears were slipping down your cheeks silently. He rubbed your back in a comforting manner.

“You’re okay, come here, I’m sure Mattheo don’t want you to see this.” He said gently while leading you around the corner and placed himself in your way. The last thing you had seen was how Mattheo had frozen, presumably in anger. Then you heard a thud and a sickening crack. Someone had punched someone. Your eyes widened in panic as you looked up at Theo. Archimedes tried stroking your hand with his head to give you some comfort. Theo looked out from behind the corner.

“Don’t worry y/n, Mattheo is fine, he usually is.” Theo said, reassuringly while you could hear thuds and grunts repeatedly. You felt sick to your stomach with worry, and you tried to comfort yourself by hugging Archimedes closer, he made his usual pigeon sound before he headbutted your face in affection, also effectively drying your tears in the process. Theo let out a small chuckle.

“Will you believe me now that he is some magical match maker? He came and found us and led us here.” You knew Theo just tried to get your mind of the fight that was happening on the other side of the wall, but you let him.

“He did?” You asked softly as you looked into the yellow eyes of your cat.

“Yeah, he sounded panicked as well, I’ve never heard him meow so loud before.” Theo said also looking at your cat. Before you could talk further about the subject the thuds and groans had stopped and Mattheo came around the corner, a frantic look in his eyes. Your eyes searched his frame for injuries, a small cut on his lip and one larger on his eyebrow. He grabbed your face gently, his knuckles bloody and bruised.

“Are you okay, love? Did he hurt you?” He asked, worry evident in his voice. You saw in the corner of your eye how Theo slowly backed away and went around the corner, presumably joining Enzo and Blaise to give you some privacy. You looked at Mattheo a small frown on your face.

“You’re hurt.” You said softly to which Mattheo let out a huff like chuckle.

“That’s not what I asked, darling, are you hurt?” He asked, his voice gentle, but stressing the ‘you’. You shook your head as an answer to his question.

“But you are.” You said, stubbornly, “and is Cormac…” You trailed off.

“I’m fine and he is fine, well, bruised, but fine I guess.” He said, finally giving in. You let out a breath of relief.

“Let’s clean you up.” You said softly before dragging him into the girl’s bathroom that was just down the corridor.

“You know this is the girl’s bathroom, right?” He said suspiciously as you wetted some paper to clean up his cuts.

“Yeah, and I’m a girl.” You said as if it was obvious. Archimedes, who you had let down to wet the paper was sitting and watching the two of you on one of the sinks. Mattheo let out a chuckle. You gently dabbed at the cut in his eyebrow. Your other hand was resting on his shoulder. You felt his hands rest on your waist, just like that time in the astronomy tower. Your eyes looked over his face as you cleaned his cut.

“That was a very stupid thing to do, Mattheo.” You mumbled softly, you felt how he let out a huff like chuckle again, the sound echoing on the tiled walls of the bathroom.

“No one will ever get away with calling you shit like that. Now he and everyone else know that you’re off limits.” He muttered, some anger still left in his voice. You stopped what you were doing and looked, really looked, at him. His jaw was still tense, those copper-brown eyes that you liked so much still had shadows in them. You put down the damp paper on the edge of the sink before gently cupping his face in your hands.

“Hey, I’m fine, you’re fine, mostly. Thank you, for what you did, I just don’t like seeing you hurt.” You said softly, your thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones. His eyes immediately softened as they met yours. His hands squeezed your waist in an affectionate manner, the butterflies in your stomach running wild. He was looking at you intently, his Bambi eyes scanning your face, quickly stopping at your lips before returning to your eyes.

“To be honest I saw red the moment I saw him so close to you but when he said that,” He paused, closing his eyes as if he was remembering something painful, “I wanted to rip him apart. I don’t think I have a right to say you’re off limits to others, you’re not even mine, but I couldn’t stop myself from threaten him to stay away.” You had no idea where his honesty came from, but his admission made a gentle smile appear on your face.

“What?” He asked, when he saw your smile. You felt brave enough to snake your hands around his neck as you stood on the tips of your toes.

“But I am yours Mattheo, I’ve been for a while.” You mumbled lowly your own eyes flickering to his pink lips, the bottom one having a cut from the fight that had just happened.

“What?” He breathed out, his hands squeezing your waist once again as he simultaneously pulled you closer, so that you were flush against him. You nodded, a big smile on your face.

“Fuck, princess, you can’t just say shit like that and not expect me to kiss you.” He muttered, his face now considerably closer. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, you could count each individual eye-lash on his eyes from how close you were.

“Maybe I want you to.” You muttered before you closed the gap between the two of you. He kissed you back immediately. The kiss was slow and passionate and tasted slightly like iron as your hands gently raked through his hair. His hands ran over your back and waist, exploring every curve before finding their place low on your hips. His lips were soft and gentle as he tried to convey every feeling he had towards you through the kiss. You gently pulled on his hair, earing a groan from him, making you smile into the kiss. Finally, you had to break apart for air, but your faces stayed close.

“Does this mean I get to threaten people to stay away from you?” You asked teasingly, once you caught your breath from the kiss. Mattheo let out a chuckle before nodding. But before either of you could say or do anything else, the familiar sound of Archimedes could be heard. He walked over to you and headbutted both of you in affection. You let out a chuckle.

“You know what, I recon Theo was right about him.” Mattheo said with a chuckle before kissing you again.

[laufeysvalentine]

enough to let you go, remus lupin

so for once in my life, let me get what i want

remus lupin x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ remus x fem!reader -- something's up with remus, but he won't tell you what.

reader wears a skirt and has a job where they could be making more money if they moved?? (idk just go with it 😭😭)

word count ༄ 4.1k

nora’s notes ༄ trying out a different writing style again this time haha, played a lottt more w themes which was fun but i think the pacing was off bc of that. if you have any feedback lmk!

“Hello, my love,” Lily coos at her son as she trots into the dining room, whisking him from his high chair. “Hello to you, too, darling.” 

“G’morning, Lily.” You accept her kiss on your cheek, turning to watch her flip a pancake on the stove. Though you’ve just entered uninvited and chosen to linger awkwardly in their kitchen doorway, at the Potters, you’re always welcome. At least, that’s what they always tell you. And with your and your boyfriend’s flat so close to them–four floors down and five doors over, as you’ve memorized–you end up popping in a lot. 

“So? What’s going on with you today? Are you and the boyfriend going to be around?” Flop. Another pancake lands on the plate, followed by a neat pat of butter and a pool of maple syrup. 

“Mmm, nothing much. We’ll be here. I have some work to be done, as always,” you sigh, leaning your elbows onto the counter. It’s cluttered with papers and such, but you make room. You always do. 

“Well, Harry’s got a playdate at four. It’s a kids’ concert at the park, but you’re welcome to come. I think Sirius might, though I haven’t a clue what he’ll do there.” She shrugs, Harry on one hip. 

“That would be lovely. I’ll have to see.” You acknowledge her with a hum, grabbing one of the open magazines on their table and flipping through it. Their house is always so lovely, smelling of baking and buttermilk yellow, with kids’ toys littered across the floor and photos of all kinds strung up on the walls. Of just James and Lily from their Hogwarts days, in muggle photo booths with lipstick smudged all over his face, of your whole group, crammed into one shot and frozen. This is your favorite shot: Remus’ arm has found its way to your shoulders, your face is kiss-happy, and you’re both grinning at the camera like he’d just proposed. And a shot of the Potters’ engagement, of course. You can see the tears glossing over James’ eyes, the excitement that rouges Lily’s sleek face, then her white dress, her ring, her altar. 

“Tea?” She asks, back still turned toward the stove. 

“Yes, please.” You watch her pour some water–already boiling, like she knew. 

She passes a mug to you, dark gray. “Careful. It’s still hot.” 

Before you get the chance to thank her, a voice booms in from the doorway. “Are those my wife’s famous pancakes I smell?” 

Harry melts into squeals, grabbing for his father and squirming his mother’s arms. Sure enough, James comes swooping in, flying his son above his head over to you. “Ah. Hello, fourth member of the Potter household.” 

“Oh, did I get the job?” you quip, sitting back into one of the counter’s tall stools. “When do I start?” 

“Right now.” He drops Harry into your lap, warm and heavy and smelling like baby. “Starting rank is babysitting. You’ll move up as you go along.” 

You roll your eyes, turning your attention to the youngest Potter, who stares at you with wide eyes, one small hand moving to tug at your hair. “Harold. Ouch.” 

“So, Y/N.” One of James' hands reaches up towards his head, scratching at his mass of curls. “Have you noticed anything off with Moony lately?” 

“No,” you say slowly, one hand moving towards your cup of tea. You catalog your interactions with your boyfriend in the past 24 hours–two toothbrushes on the counter, breakfast tumbling out of bed, mumbles, half-late for work, short and sweet lunch call, good evening welcome home hi i love you kiss, two plates on the table, how he tastes of smoke and mint after brushing his teeth. Everything seemed in place to you. “Should I have noticed something?” 

He looks at you. Stays there for a solid few seconds. Then, slowly, crawling, “No. I suppose not.” 

Steam pushes between your fingers, tightening in coils through the air. You frown. It almost hurts. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” he repeats, looking away to saunter towards his wife. His arms wrap firmly around her waist; she lets out a small, surprised laugh as he whisks her into the air. Harry drops your hair and turns towards his parents, clapping with vigor. 

Your fingers knot their way into Harry’s shirt–a burnt mustard shifting to a pale yellow in the morning sun. Your other hand traces the rim of your cup. Lily was right, it’s practically boiling still, it’s scalding to touch. The more you do it, the more you’re sure all of your nerves have burned off. 

“Lily?” Your voice emerges like honey. Low, smooth. Achingly slow. Transparent. Perhaps too much so. 

She perks her head up from where it lay on her husband’s chest. “Yes, darling?” 

“I should go,” you say after a few seconds trip on the distance between you and them. You lift Harry from your lap and walk him over to his parents. “I think Remus is waiting for me.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, arms opening to hold her baby. “I’ll see you later?” 

You nod, step back. “I’ll see.” 

James looks at you again. You look back. “Bye, Y/N.” 

“Bye, Potter. Your pancakes are burning.” You point behind him, where smoke is escaping from the pan, something hissing and sputtering. 

“Shit.” 

“James!” 

“Sorry.” 

—

When the door to your apartment creaks open, you half-expect your boyfriend to be lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with how weird James was acting. Nope. Everything’s in place. Your couch, leather and loveworn with years of you and Remus laying intertwined and shifting and giggling, sits in the corner. The rug, that wildflower blue, is where it always is. The TV, the mantel. You like your living room, but the urge to add pictures just like Lily did, grabs you. 

“Remus?” You swallow, checking your clock. It’s already half past ten, he’s usually up by now. You know he had a rough night last night, still sleeping off the full moon a few days earlier, all aches. The moon hadn’t been good, but were they ever? You’d skipped work to take care of him, to try and massage out those clicks in his bones, to stop the aching that you knew lived in his knees and hips and chest cavity, but maybe it hadn’t been enough. 

“Mmm?” There it is. Sleep is still coating his voice, croaky as he calls out to you. “Where are you, dove?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I?” You lower your voice, tossing your shoes to the side and strolling towards your shared bedroom. “I’m back from Lily’s. Want to go out tonight? Harry’s got something at the park, but I have a feeling Sirius will want to go out after.” 

Your hands lodge themselves on your hips. He’s lying on the bed, looking absolutely devourable, as always. His eyes are rimmed with exhaustion, his shirt has slipped off somewhere around the room, his face is framed by his messy hair. And he’s looking up at you with those sweet, sweet eyes, turning his lips upwards as you approach him. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” you decide, crawling on top of him and lying onto his chest so your nose is snug against his neck, breathing him in. Your hands find their way to his hair, intertwine–no, tangle–you two together. “You smell good.” 

You can feel his lips press to the part of your head, the warmth of his breath as he exhales. “You smell like baby powder and James Potter.” 

“Accurate,” comes your response, a loose hum vibrating through your throat. He shivers, you can feel it run through his body. Skin against skin against skin. “Can we just stay like this forever?” 

“But how else will we attend Harry’s childrens’ music concert tonight?” He teases lightly. You smile at that, burrowing deeper into the space between his shoulder and neck. 

He rubs your back with that same lightness, fleetingly, before grabbing the pack of cigarettes that resides on his bedside table and lighting one above your head. You watch the smoke cloud his face, thickening in perpetual rings. He looks different from this angle, shrouded. 

Your hand reaches out to touch a puff of gray. It swirls out of reach before you can make contact. 

—

“Watch Harry one second, please? I have to find James.” Lily walks towards your picnic blanket, where your head’s tilted onto Remus’ shoulder, the two of you faced towards the stage. You don’t really want to be here longer than you have to, since the bands really are for little kids and you look out of place here, with no children to show off and giggle and run in circles around you like all the others here. But James went to look for Sirius, whose arrival will allow you to go to your next destination, the bar–and, more than that, you absolutely adore your godson. 

“Of course!” You straighten, opening your arms wide to hold Harry, who grins when he sees you. “Hi, Harold.” 

He “stands” on your lap, facing you as you support his endeavors with two firm hands around his hips. It’s like he’s gotten five pounds heavier since this morning, and his grip on your hair has gotten ten times as strong, tugging and tugging. You don’t mind, though. Especially when he laughs in toothless spurts, absolutely adorable and the sweetest baby you’ve ever seen. 

“Aren’t babies the absolute best?” You sigh with a melt, tipping back onto Remus and letting Harry sit propped on your lap. “He’s the cutest one I’ve ever seen.” 

But your boyfriend’s just looking at you, the hazel of his eyes drooping in the fading sunlight. “Whatever you say, dove.” 

Then, without warning, Harry lurches onto his back, brown eyes going wide in surprise as he looks up at you. 

“Ouchie. Did that hurt?” You swipe your thumb across his small, baby-haired forehead and readjust him so he’s more secure. “You’re okay, lovie. I promise.” 

He giggles it off, and something deep inside of you swells. You want a baby so, so badly. A little Remus, maybe, to take to terrible kiddie concerts and smile at you so sweetly. 

Remus’ hand slips behind your head, massaging your scalp as you babble to Harry, indulging in his small squeals of delight when you do something funny. You’ve just begun to sing along with Wheels on the Bus when someone bumps right into your back. Someone being a little girl, probably only a year older than Harry, sobs leaving her that are much too big for her small frame. You pass the baby to Remus, turning to give her your attention. 

“Oh no,” you murmur, craning your neck for a look around for her parents. “Are you okay, darling?” 

Your only answer is another sob. Tentatively, you reach out for her, one palm coming up to rub her back in small circles. Sure, you have no clue who she is, but you can’t just let her weep on the grass, alone. 

“Where’s your mum?” You ask, before mentally scolding yourself. Of course she doesn’t know, otherwise she would’ve found her by now. “We’ll help you find her, hm?” 

You stand, and the girl, at ease with your kindness, clings to one of your legs, grasping at your hands. Taking the cue, you hoist her up and help her look around for whoever she’s with. The contact seems to be helping, so you trace a pattern on her back, trying to help her calm down. 

“Jenny? Jenny!” Someone yells, and an exact depiction of the girl in thirty years barrels through the lawn. “Oh, my poor baby!” 

They’re reaching for each other, so you pass the girl to her mother and step back, letting them reunite. 

“So sorry if I overstepped, I just heard her crying and couldn’t leave her there.” You flash a small smile at the woman, who grins at you, all tooth and sparkle. 

“No, no, thank you so much! She just keeps running off from me.” She smiles at her daughter, who rests her head on her shoulder. “I’m surprised you got her to stop crying, she usually won’t stop once she starts. You’ve got a kid here? You’re good with children, I’m sure.” 

You beam at the compliment, eyes flitting to Remus and Harry, who are watching you from their picnic blanket. A sudden nervousness clenches you, and you just bite your lip, murmur something you won’t remember later, smile at the girl and her mother. 

She compliments you again, thanks you. You just smile back, my pleasure. Harry’s babbles distract you from your goodbye, so you turn and squat back down to give him a kiss on the head. His hair is down-soft, smelling like baby powder. You plant one on your boyfriend’s cheek too, right on one of his pretty scars, just because. You’re so in love with him, then, and how he smells like campfire and looks up at you with a kindness you’d never thought you’d be lucky enough to find in your life. He looks twisted, so you try to smooth him out with another kiss. 

And another for Harry, one more for Remus. You’re almost at four each when Lily comes back and steals away her baby. Five for Remus. One for you. 

—

“Have you seen Y/N?” Remus slides into the booth next to James, who’s watching a very curly-haired, very drunk Sirius pushed all the way in. You’d gone off to fetch yourself another drink while he’d gone to the bathroom, but when he returned to the floor, you were gone. 

“Think she’s over there with Lily,” James says, gesturing to somewhere to his right. When he looks over, you’re there, frosted glass cupped between palms. There’s a guy standing next to you, forearms against the counter and pretty eyes framed by jealousy-inducing lashes, much too close for Remus’ taste, but you’re too tipsy to register it. He’s got a silver watch on his left wrist, smooth and slippery between your fingers. You giggle as he hands it to you, waves something off and leans in closer. He looks like an asshole, your boyfriend decides. A complete and utter asshole. 

Remus stands just as you look around the bar, trying to find him. Your eyes are sparkling. You hold up the watch to show him, wobbling as you turn. The guy–that stupid, stupid guy with stupid, stupid eyes–is asking you a question, but you’re only half-paying attention, thank Merlin. He walks as quickly as he can towards you. Where you’re tucked into the bar, he can just hear the boom of the guy’s voice. 

“What do you do for work?” He asks, swirling a cup in his hand. His voice is throaty, deep. At your murmured answer, his brow tightens. “What? Then why are you here?” 

You twirl around, letting your skirt flounce. Where’s Remus? “Mmm, I dunno.” 

“You could be making a lot more money,” that throatiness continues. “If you traveled. You could do so much more. Be so much more.” 

“I like things here,” you respond, stilling to lean against the counter. words sloshing together. “I like my friends and my home and my boyfriend. I love my boyfriend. I couldn’t ever leave him.” 

“Your what?” He repeats. He jolts into a stand, glances around. “You have a boyfriend?” 

“She does.” Remus finally reaches you. His voice is taut. One hand clasps onto your elbow. The other slips to your hip. Squeezes. “Ready, dove?” 

As soon as you feel his touch, you slump backwards, eyes closing as your cheek slips onto the softness of his sweater. “Of course, Remmy. We going now?” 

He shakes his head before realizing you can’t see him. “No, let’s just get back to the table. Lily’s there.” 

“Lily?” You perk your head up like an excited toddler, searching through the dark for the redhead. “Let’s go. Bye bye, Jack.” 

Jack. Asshole name. Asshole. Remus doesn’t like the ugly thing that paws at his heart. You could do so much more. Jack waves, or something. You wave back and let Remus guide you to the table. 

“You okay, baby?” You ask, your fingers slowly slipping into his. You trail your gaze upward, your pretty eyes on his face so you can watch him nod. “You smell like smoke.” 

“That so?” He murmurs, letting you slide into the seat next to the other Marauders. 

Sirius is looking just as drunk as he did ten minutes ago but much less sleepy, to his credit. He bobbles his head up and down, eyes on you. “Again, Moony?” 

Your head tilts. You look like a begging puppy. “Again what?” 

Your boyfriend swallows. You press your finger to his Adam’s apple. He swallows again. You giggle as it bobs, feeling the sensation on your skin. 

He doesn’t giggle with you, you don’t mind. His eyes are pretty tonight. They’re shiny. Glittery. 

“Sirius,” comes James’ voice. More serious than you’ve ever heard him be with his best friend. “Don’t you think you did enough last time you drank?” 

“What happened last time?” You ask, looking up at the table. Ever curious, you are. 

The boy sighs, puts his head down on the table. “I don’t really remember. Something with Moony and yo–” 

“Sirius,” James says again. His voice almost echoes. 

“Oh.” Some kind of realization seizes him. “Sorry, Lupin.” 

He doesn’t receive a response. Those are tears, you realize. Glossing up his eyes. All of a sudden, it feels as though someone’s punched you in the gut. Your hand reaches for Remus. He lets you touch him, but you don’t feel his fingers braiding through yours. You take it back, tuck it under your chin. 

“Don’t smoke in here,” you mumble suddenly, to no one in particular. “Don’t do it.” 

“What’s that, darling?” Lily swoops her head next to yours. The alcohol’s effects are starting to rub off. Maybe she thinks you can’t see the glances she’s making to James. 

“I want to go home,” You say finally. 

Remus stands before you can elaborate even a word more, grabbing his coat and yours from the backs of James’ chair. 

“Goodbye, lovely,” Lily says to you as you trail behind Remus. Her husband is saying something to Sirius. You can’t tell what. 

Your apartment isn’t far from this bar, that’s why you chose it in the first place. The starlight is just beginning to lessen, midnight shifting into something else. Clouds, miserably gray, cling to the awakening sky. It must be morning. Soon? 

You walk the first block in silence, shivering, as you watch Remus so clearly hurt. His strides are impossibly long, rigid, each breath of his comes out half-torn, and he’s blinking so much more than any normal human should be. You’ve spent years memorizing the planes of his back. You can tell when he’s tense, shoulders folding in on himself, only you can’t tell why. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you try, quickening your pace to match his. “I never should’ve spoken with that guy, he just had a nice watch. I don’t–I don’t remember how we got talking.” 

“Y/N, don’t apologize. Seriously, that’s the last thing I want you to do,” he says, stopping to turn to you. “It’s not… it wasn’t that, I swear.” 

You don’t like the way your name touches his tongue–like mulch, something falling to the floor. It’s unlike him. 

“What is it, then?” You ask, eyes nonjudgmental. “Tell me.” 

Your heart skips a beat, then, “nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing,” you argue, resuming your walk. “You can talk to me about anything, Rem. You know it.” 

“When we get home,” he offers, and you take it. You’re nearly there, anyway, just a few more doors and you’ll be in the warmth. Your feet shuffle on the sidewalk as you walk, almost nipping his heels.

The lobby, as predicted, is warm, but dark. The lights are set low. You have to fumble a bit to find the button for your floor, more to find your keys. Remus nudges you aside, gentle but firm. He opens the door, lets you stumble inside. 

“Sleep, alright?” He opens the door to your bedroom, and you’ve already forgotten your earlier conversation. “I’ll be there in a bit.” 

You know where he’s going, the sound of the landing door confirming it only a moment later. You hear the lighter, the exhale, even over the city’s lullaby. You turn away and the sight of your bed lures you in, more than changing into pajamas or undoing your makeup and hair. But just as you topple onto the mattress, your nerves go frigid. Without Remus next to you, fingers running through your hair, it’s hard. You flip and flip and flip until the last dregs of night force you to sleep. 

—

When you wake, it’s jolting, to the crash of pans, a shit sworn under breath. Someone changed you out of your clothes while you slept, put you in one of Remus’ old soft tees, loose and hot on your skin. Your hand travels to his side of the bed on instinct, even though you know he’s out in the kitchen. Usually, when he makes breakfast Sunday mornings, you collect his warmth, coiling up where he lay only minutes before to try and push the day away as best you can. But today, the sheets are cold. 

You pull yourself up, a frown weighing down your lips. The bedspread is undisturbed, sheets crisp as when you made the bed the morning before. 

Did he even fall asleep? Some kind of dread pools in your gut, tugging and tugging at your intuition. You stand from the bed, stumble into the kitchen, pausing to look around. 

He wasn’t making breakfast. He was grabbing his extra pack, one now slipped between his fingers. It’s eleven in the morning. The clouds are stuck to the sky. And here he is, sitting on the landing, looking out at the bleakness of gray, of the city. 

You say his name so quietly it sounds like a nightmare, go to him with clouds for feet. When he turns to look at you, your heart startles. He’s hollowed out. Eyes rimmed red. You step out barefoot onto the wood of the landing, stopping a foot before him. 

“Show me your hands.” Your voice is soft, the command firm. When he doesn’t comply right away, you take his right fist and unfurl it for him. On his palm run deep crescent moons, some almost biting through his skin with force. You swipe your thumb against them, sandwiching his hand between yours to massage out his scars. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

He turns around again, whole body facing outside except for his hand. He can’t bring himself to make you let him go. The silence stutters between you two, you still drawing hearts onto his palm and him away. He takes a drag from his cigarette. 

“We need to break up,” he says finally, and you think someone’s gone and pulled the landing from under you, because you never once in your life thought you’d hear those words. Not from Remus’ mouth. Not ever. 

“What?” You try repeating the death he’s just uttered, but your tongue lies limp in your mouth and your lips refuse to work right. “What?” 

He doesn’t say it again. You don’t particularly want to hear it again, so you just watch as his lips turn white with pressure, as his mouth stays shut. 

“Something happened,” you say just to get it out there. “What?” 

“I love you,” he starts, and you slap pettily at his wrist. 

Shut up, you mean. You can’t say that. Not right now. 

“I love you, and so, I refuse to drag you down with me.” Smoke settles around his pretty hair, stagnates. That’ll be a bitch of a smell to wash out, you think. “You deserve to live with a picket fence around your house. You deserve four kids and a dog. You deserve a husband. Not a werewolf, not someone you have to miss your life for.” 

You open your mouth, but he stops you. His words refuse to absorb into your brain, refuse to puzzle themselves out. You watch his fingers open into yours, clench onto you with the desperation of a man on the death row. 

“You deserve better than me,” he exhales with some kind of botched finality. “I love you too much to make you my future, dove. In another lifetime, I’ll be better for you. I promise.” 

Your head tilts up to the sky. You can see shards of sunlight now, meshed through a particularly thin cloud. Lovely, lovely. 

You can feel his eyes on you, roving over your face and body, trying to puzzle out your thoughts. It’s funny how some things work themselves out.

yes, i got lazy at the end and yes, i have an alternate ending written

masterlist

tags: @lydiasfalling @cowboylikemac @treefairy-28 @lolwey @callsignwidow @navs-bhat @hisparentsgallerryy @brxght-world @grxcisxhy-wp @luvv-danielle @idkman5353. @just-here-for-ff @rubyinthebooks @laurenzitaa @ariesandwolves @wasiasproject

[777heavengirl]

AM - Chapter 1

Snap Out Of It 

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 1/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 4,684 masterlist

Currently playing: Snap Out Of It by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

Sirius Black does not care. He doesn't care about who you date or hang out with. He does not care that when you smile the corner of your eyes crinkle or that he made you laugh so hard once you actually cried. Sirius does not care that the pink hair clips Remus got you for your birthday matched your lip gloss, as well as the underwear you wore on his birthday. He doesn’t care that you don’t protest when he doesn’t want you spending the night. He doesn’t care that you risked the wrath of Walburga Black by sneaking into the Black household during the summer, just to help heal his wounds as they were so extensive he could not do it alone. He doesn’t care that you always wink at him before your quidditch matches. He doesn’t care that you ditched him to hang out with a no-name blond from-

Sirius didn't want to remember what house he was in, much less his name.

The Gryffindor common room was warm and fairly empty. While the marauders never wasted an opportunity to run around Hogsmeade for a couple of hours, it had been the collective decision, dictated by the foulness of Sirius’s mood, that the lot would stay in the castle today. At least for the first part of the day. It was now 5 in the afternoon.

Remus slapped his book closed, nothing short of exasperated. Although sitting crisscross on the large plush armchair and reading had helped negate the hostile vibrations Sirius had been emitting the past hour, enough was enough.

“If you’re going to pout all day about Y/N’s absence, invite her to Hogsmeade yourself instead next time,”

“Is that where she is? Hadn’t noticed,”

“You are a terrible liar Pads please spare us,” James groaned from the ground, his back against the bottom half of the armchair Remus sat on.

“I don’t know why you think I give a rat’s ass where she is or who she’s with right now,” Sirius knew he was really stretching it now, his tone hadn’t exactly come across as calm and nonchalant. Quite the opposite, his brows had furrowed his face into a scowl and Remus had taken this as his sign to leave, getting up from his chair, James sluggishly crawling into the now empty spot.

“Y/N is not yours Sirius,” Peter frowned at the boy. Sirius’s clenched jaw and hard stare did nothing but spur Peter into rolling his eyes. “You don’t get to be upset when you insist there is nothing between the two of you and then expect her to be at your beck and call,” Peter swiftly got up after, not wanting to even hear what Sirius had to say. They were best mates, but that didn’t mean that any of the marauders wouldn’t tell Sirius Black when he was being an asshole. Peter grabbed his coat from the back of the couch, as he and Remus made a beeline to the common room door, no doubt to make their way to Hogsmeade, enough of the day had been wasted. The fat lady's singing, as she so often fancied doing, perforated the room briefly as the boys opened and closed the door.

“Seriously mate,” James shook his head. ‘You need to snap out of it”. Sirius looked up from his spot on the couch, his legs could now stretch with Peter’s absence and he took the cushion Peter had been hugging to put between his back and the arm of the couch. He couldn't help but stare at the ceiling. James started speaking mindlessly about anything, really, the new prank they wanted to try out, if he should ask Lily Evans on a second date or if it was too soon? I reckon she enjoyed it though. James knew quite well Sirius hadn't been truly listening, but he didn't mind. Not really anyway. He knew his friend quite well, he knew the feelings the boy was trying to repress were bound to bubble up sometime. He had caught Sirius staring at you the entire time you had been at Hogwarts. His eyes trailed after you since you were 11. Since you met on the train.

It wasn't like James didn't know what had been happening recently either. You had been attached at the hip since the ripe age of 5. He was your closest confidant, you joked you were actually cousins. Siblings. He had known about the spirals of conflicted feelings you had fallen on during your fifth year. Much to your own dismay, you liked Sirius Black.

James had a low-key way of encouraging it, even knowing the casanova tendencies Sirius had started to display. The way you bounced off of each other, the jokes, the irony, the stolen glances. The way Sirius's touch always seemed to drift towards you, small pushes after jokes, sweeping you off the ground as you landed, snitch still in your grip. You'd have to be blind to not see the chemistry the two of you had.

Maybe Sirius needed glasses.

James did, however, regret encouraging you. Since April of your fifth year til now, February of your sixth, you had been tangled in Sirius's bed sheets. But not his heart. He wouldn't allow it. And you acted like you didn't either. James held you a good couple of times, as the sobs broke your chest and endless tears poured from your eyes. It isn't his fault Jamie, promise me you won't be mad at him. He couldn't exactly bring himself to let your heartbreak roll off his back, but he didn't want to expose your feelings. So he kept his mouth shut and went to crazy lengths to make sure Sirius wasn't seeing anyone else. Pulling Sirius into crazy unprompted schemes, setting up the girl of the week with someone else, and putting all sorts of spells to lock their door during parties. This one had left them locked out and sleeping in the common room quite a few times. Remus hadn't been happy.

James had tried his best.

Sirius continued to stare up, eyes glazed over as he tried to count the cracks in the ceiling of the common room. He wondered if you were having fun. If the unnamed blond made you laugh. Had you laughed to the point of tears? He doubted it, he looked a bit dull.

Sirius Black did not care that when he asked you if you were going on a date, you blushed, waving off his statement like it was a cloud of smoke.

-

You didn’t want to piss off Sirius. That actually wasn’t the goal at all, because who the bloody hell cares what he thinks? Yet you couldn’t help but think of him while you sat in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

He'd hate this place.

The tea shop was a cute place, it frankly was. It was a rather twee location, filled to the brim with bows and frills. You stared holes into the lacy napkins and sugar bowls. You didn't particularly dislike it. It was cute and you had grown to cherish the pinks and bows, that came with what some defined as femininity. But you enjoyed such things in moderation. And in secret. A lacy napkin stuck out slightly from your small handbag pushed down in a hurry. It would be nice for your scrapbook.

It was the date spot for the hopeless romantics. Or the pushy ones too. You didn’t peg Mr. Jacob Brown as one to frequent such places, but you wouldn’t say no to a free meal with a handsome man.

You weren't usually into blondes though.

You shared the same table as him for Potions. Slytherin and Gryffindor were mixed in this class and you had a feeling Slughorn was regretting this fact as the term trudged along. Jacob was not what you expected. He was one of the more quiet ones, if you squinted he reminded you a bit of Peter. Demeanor wise at least. Jacob's kind eyes found it hard to look straight at yours as he caught you after class, you wouldn't have heard him calling you if he hadn't been in front of you. You could feel Sirius's eyes burning holes into the back of your head as he wanted at the classroom's door while you talked with the tall boy. You opted to ignore him as you listened to Jacob stutter out how he'd be delighted if you would be up for going to Hogsmeade with him on Saturday. You didn't need to say yes though,

You did.

His tall stature, golden blond hair, and tanned skin quite contrasted not only your dear friend Peter but a certain boy you were trying painfully hard not to think about. Jacob was quiet and kind, with a knack for exploding whatever was brewing in his cauldron often. But when you met up with him at Hogsmeade, the frigid February air bitting your cheeks, it was like he had come loose, his usually tense demeanor relaxed and warm. He complimented your outfit quite thoughtfully too.

You wondered if Sirius would like it too.

"Did you hear me Y/N?" You blinked, fuck.

"Merlin no, I'm sorry Jacob I got distracted," he lightly chuckled at the apologetic twist in your face "The frills y'know?" you said with a circular motion of your hand. The boy couldn't help but laugh.

"I was just asking if you liked your dessert, you've barely touched it" his lips spread into a small smile as you glanced at the abandoned oversugared pastry sitting in front of you. It wasn't bad, but much like this place, the cloying taste was sticking to your gums.

"No, I did! But maybe we should've shared it I feel like I'm going to go into a diabetic coma," you let out a laugh, standing up, prompting him to do the same. "Do you want to maybe go for a walk?"

His lips split into a wide smile as he dropped the change of galleons onto the table.

"You're a blessing, let's go,"

Maybe this would go better than you had thought.

-

"So?" James wiggled his eyebrows, throwing a look over his shoulder briefly, catching a certain Slytherin staring from the other side of the hall. Jacob turned as red as the Gryffindor table runner. "How was your date with the shy lad over there?"

James could feel Sirius glaring at him from his spot next to you. He hadn't left your side since you came back, an easy smile on your face much to his dismay. You had come just in time for dinner, meeting the boys as they came down.

"it was really good," a smile broke on your face, your hand still felt warm with the ghost of Jacob's. You couldn't help but contrast this new boy and Sirius. The way he asked to hold your hand, Sirius only ever threw his arm around your shoulders, the way he seemed sincere and upfront with his intentions, the way he complimented you at every turn. Genuinely too, his big brown eyes showing nothing but pure kindness.

You struggled to find a time Sirius had genuinely complimented you. One that wasn't from in between his sheets.

"Well don't just spill it all at once," You couldn't help but roll your eyes at James. Impatient fellow wasn't he?

"Well, he took me to Madam Puddifoot's" a collective groan came out of all the boys' mouths.

"So cheesy-" Peter laughed at the thought,

"He's a bloody wanker if you ask me, reject him while we're ahead," Sirius mumbled as he popped a grape into his mouth, regaining his failing appetite. You shook your head, cheeks tinted red. Of course, Sirius would say that. You couldn't even imagine him in that tea shop, much less even considering that you may have liked it. You couldn't help but frown. Although you had a good time, you secretly wished you were out with Sirius instead. You wished he'd compliment you, you wished he'd open the door for you and ask you your favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor bean. You wished he'd hold your hand, you wished he'd kiss your cheek as you said goodbyes. You wished he liked you enough to be bashful at the thought of asking you out.

You wished Sirius would just ask you out.

"Well, I'll have you know I quite enjoyed it," Sirius suddenly didn't feel hungry again, pushing his plate away. "after the abusively sweet dessert caught up with me, we went for a walk," Remus couldn't help but push the plate of food back in front of Sirius, giving him a pointed look.

"We talked a whole lot, he asked me stuff I don't think anyone has ever asked about me before like really detailed stuff," you couldn't help but pause as you thought about it, his interest in the things you liked, your favorite quidditch team, what you thought of your divination class.

"He asked to hold my hand-"

"Who the hell does that?" you failed to notice the kick James sent into Sirius's shins. He kicked back.

"I just haven't had a good time like that in a while, he was so genuine" James and Peter smiled widely, Remus slowly breaking into a smile as well as they all stared at your face. It was obvious you were happy, the way you hadn't stopped repressing a smile, the small bite of your lip as you thought about it more.

James wasn't going to let Sirius ruin it. As Sirius opened his mouth to speak James stepped on his foot as hard as he could.

"We are all very happy it went well," Sirius let out through the pain, and immediately James took back his foot.

"Thanks, Black," you hadn't called him that in ages. Sirius felt his heart clench, as well as his throat. He'd prefer if James stepped on him again.

You didn't last much longer at the Great Hall, waving them goodbye as you went up with Lily and Mary, spilling all the details to them as well.

"You're the bloody wanker Padfoot," James hissed, Sirius rolled his eyes as he pushed his plate of food away. Remus rolled his eyes too. It was like they were taking care of a child at this point.

Sirius stayed quiet, as he rested his cheek on his hand. Eyes looking for the blond on the far side of the Great Hall. He still didn't know which house to look in.

"Don't do anything to the poor boy" Remus frowned, Sirius always had something to bite back with. Always some quip, some remark. But he stayed silent.

Sirius stared blankly at Remus. He didn't know why. But the truth was that he wanted to beat the boy to a pulp. He didn't have a reason. You weren't his, he made sure of that. The kilometer-long distance he put between you and his heart. He didn't have any reason to be jealous, it wasn't his place. There had to be something wrong with the guy.

When he broke your heart you'd run back to Sirius.

-

Sirius didn't care. He didn't care that he could hear your giggles from the other side of the potions classroom as you helped the blond boy. He didn't care that you had disappeared the last two weekends to hang out with him. He heard from Remus you were trying to teach him how to fly. Imbecile.

He didn't care that he hadn't kissed you in two and a half weeks. Not since the day the boy had asked you out. Sirius Black was perfectly fine and did not at all care that you ran to hug Jacob after your latest victory. The boy had been waiting for you at the changing room's door even if it had been a win against his own house. Leaving Sirius standing in the middle of the pitch, being dragged inside by James. Sirius didn't care that you were missing from the victory party thrown later that night. He saw your names floating together on the map, they mocked him as he tried to swallow the knot at his throat. The rest of the night felt like a blur, like the entire world flew around him and he remained still.

In the two weeks since the date, you had drifted so far from his grasp. He missed the smell of your hair, you always smelled vaguely of vanilla. It was spicy and intoxicating and he could never get enough of it. He missed your laughter when he made some stupid joke. He missed having you in his arms. He missed how soft and supple your skin was. He missed the way your lips would curl up in a smirk when he said something vaguely snarky, or when they roped you into some scheme that would definitely land the lot of you in detention. The way you rambled on about constellations and everything else that crossed your mind when you sat at the top of the astronomy tower. The way you would rip away the occasional cigarette from his mouth, talking about these not being the muggle habits he should be picking up, you'd always take a quick drag before putting it out.

He didn't care that he felt a pit at the bottom of his stomach for two weeks.

"Do you think he'll ask me to be his girlfriend?" you felt juvenile even asking, your words had been barely a whisper, they hung heavy in the common room as Lily, Alice, and Frank as well as the marauders all lounged around. It was fairly late, so the place lay otherwise empty. Your arms hugged your legs as you sat in the far corner of the couch, staring directly into the fire not wanting to see anyone's face. You usually were overjoyed at spending time like this, with all of your friends. Alice and Frank's relationship had brought the girls closer to the marauders as Frank was already a close friend. You no longer had to divide your time between your friends and James got to be around Lily.

James was delighted, of course, patting Frank's back with an I knew we were friends for a reason Frankie dear, the first time the girls stuck around to hang out.

But you had felt a tension lately, even with Lily and the rest of the girls. Like they were hesitant about your blooming relationship. Like they all knew something you didn't. Like they were waiting for some other shoe to drop. The smiles Lily shot your way as you talked about the boy and how well he treated you, were the same type of smile she used to give Marlene when she was delusional about some girl last term and didn't have the heart to tell her. James looked at you like you might break any minute, nervous to speak about your romantic affair. Sirius was completely avoiding you. You were scared you were reading too much into the compliments, into the attention you were receiving.

The tension came to a close when James spoke, his body was taking up 90% of the couch you were on, and he lay on his side. You knew his eyes stared into Lily's curled form. His foot poked yours as he spoke lowly,

"What makes you think he wouldn't?"

"Well-"

"None of that," Alice spoke up from Frank's arms on the opposite couch. He slowly fed jellybeans into her mouth as she spoke, the varying flavors making her face scrunch up every so often. "you're so lovely, and if he can't see that and commit then I'll blast him to hell myself," Lily hummed in agreement from her spot on one of the armchairs, sleep tugging at her eyelids.

"Cheers to that," Sirius spoke from his spot on the carpet, spread like a starfish in front of the fire. James wanted to kick his head in the fire. Sirius would probably welcome it at this point. He felt a knot form in his throat at your words.

Peter snored from the armchair next to Lily's.

"There's no reason to think he won't Y/N," Remus said softly from his spot also on the floor, his back resting on the front of the sofa seat, directly in front of you. You carded your fingers through his hair, and he shot you a small smile. You felt pathetic. You stared into the fire.

It wasn't as if Jacob hadn't been clear. He was really into you, and every second that he was free he'd find an excuse to be around you. Even when his housemates looked at him like he was mad. You felt a swirl of emotions clawing at your throat, almost to the point that you couldn't breathe. You wondered what Sirius thought. You hadn't talked in so long.

You almost felt bad at taking every ounce of attention Jacob gave you, you felt terrible. Like you were using him. Godric were you using him?

Were you using this poor boy to get over Sirius?

No! you liked him, he was kind and he never smirked nor got under your skin. He didn't laugh at you or drive you up the wall with his winks and smirks. He was nice and kind. He was kind yes. Probably what you liked best, one of his best qualities. And let's not forget how agreeable his face was, his strong features and dirty blond hair. And his parents were Americans! You didn't hear that often…

You thought back to December. When Sirius read to you in French, with your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. The grounds had been covered in white, cold seeping in through the windows. The words on the page, although foreign to you, rolled off his tongue with ease. Sirius had joked that this would be your Christmas present. He chuckled as you covered your face when he took out a little red box from his bedside table.

You fiddled with the thin golden bracelet he gave you that Christmas.

You felt like you were fighting back tears.

-

"Thought you'd be in love and giggling on some corner of the castle," Your feet dangled from the top of the astronomy tower, and although the security of the metal bars made sure you weren't going to fall, the lack of ground under your feet made you feel at the mercy of the air. Your fingerless gloves did little to stop the biting cold and your fingertips looked pale but you moved them nevertheless, taking the lit cigarette out of your mouth. Your large jacket and the sweater you had stolen from their dorm helped a bit, but you had sat unmoving for a good thirty minutes. You briefly thought of a professor finding you frozen in place the next morning. "I also remember you saying we shouldn't be picking these habits up hm?"

Sirius sat on the floor next to you, feet also dangling through the metal bars. His own jacket was zipped up to the top and the black leather material shone under the light of the moon. This was a different jacket from the one he used when he rode around on his stupid muggle motorbike. It was big and the leather looked soft and worn. His pajama bottoms couldn't be providing him with enough heat though… That wasn't really your problem, was it?

He took the cigarette from your fingers taking a drag.

"Not like you ever listen to me Black,"

"I hate it when you call me that," Sirius passed it back to you, his voice low. The cloud emanating from your lips turned and mixed with Sirius's in front of you. The crescent moon highlighted the swirls of smoke dancing in the air.

"And I hate smoking-"

"Then why are we here?" He hummed as he took the cigarette from you, taking another drag and putting it out on the side of the tower.

"Why are you here?" for the first time since he had arrived you turned to look at him. He did not turn to look back. His side profile was enviable. His defined nose, the plump lips, the way his pearly pale skin contrasted against his coal black hair. It was shorter than usual. His mom had maimed his hair during the two days he passed in his household during Christmas. He was trying desperately to grow it out again. The moon seemed to make him almost black and white. It was like watching a monochromatic film, and you were hooked on it.

You thought of the brown tinge his hair had during the summer months.

"Get bored of the blond yet?" you scoffed, taking out the pack of Player's No 6 cigarettes from your jacket pocket.

"He has a name, not that it matters to you" The ribs of the wheel on the lighter scratched at your thumb as you flicked it quickly, but the flickering warmth made your thumb feel like it was finally shedding a layer of ice. You lit your second cigarette of the night.

You really did hate smoking. You didn't answer his question.

Sirius moved his hand to take the cigarette from your mouth, as you let out the smoke. You moved his hand away, offering the pack instead.

He took the container in his hand and chucked it through the air. You watched with wide eyes as it disappeared through the air, the shadow of night covering whatever hint of where they may have landed. He took the cigarette from your lips and took a drag.

"What is up your ass Black?" you snarled at him, you felt your lips quiver as he finally looked at you one of his insufferable smirks on his face.

"You shouldn't be smoking love, it ain't good for ya," he took another drag and offered you the cigarette once again.

You felt like you were going to blow a fuse. You brought your legs back from the brink, tucking them in and using the bars as leverage to swing yourself up. Your fingers clutched the lighter in your pocket tightly. Sirius stared at the spot you had been sitting at.

"You're such a prick Sirius Black," he finally turned to look at you "You can never let me be happy, you won't even let me have my cigarettes,"

"come on love-" you scoffed, you could feel the hot tears welling up in your eyes.

"Dont 'love' me, you're so selfish" You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising as he took a deep breath in surprise. "go find yourself someone else to satisfy your needs, you will not keep me in this vicious loop any longer,"

You made to leave but turned back "His name is Jacob by the way, and I am not in love with him but he doesn't make me cry Sirius," he could see the trail of tears down your cheeks, the glow of the moon reflecting off of them. It was like you were crying starlight. He had never hated his name falling from your lips more than he did this moment.

"And that's all you do," he felt the bile crawling up his throat,

"You make me cry."

[querenciasturniolo]

chris or matt x fem!reader please !!! i legitimately cannot choose between them for my life so you can choose :) maybe reader’s also like an influencer and they have this secret sort of relationship for a while and its all super fluffy, but fans are already starting to speculate that they’re together and stuff, and then at the end they finally go public with a hard launch and/or live and everyone in the comments ( or chat if it’s a live ) is going FERAL

p.s. also i’ve loved your works for so long you DO NOT UNDERSTAND and i’ve finally gathered up the courage to send in a message even tho it’s sent in with a request !

hard launch ⮕ m.s.

word count: 911

warnings: swearing

summary: request

a/n: STOP YOU’RE SO SWEET 😭 please don’t be scared of me, i promise i don’t bite HAHAHA, ily are you kidding me 🫶🏻😭 also this was so fucking cute, i’m obsessed fr

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Watching Matt stream always had your heart stuttering in your chest.

The theme for Hogwarts Legacy was playing as he was adjusting his camera, your eyes watching him closely and trying to fight the smile stretching across your face. You were sure the viewers could see you staring, considering you were sitting in the chair directly next to him, on camera. His eyes dropped from the screen as he grabbed his controller.

“Alright guys, so, we’re playing Hogwarts Legacy tonight, but I have a special guest with me, as you all can see.” He turned his head and met your eyes, his own smile growing and his cheeks tingeing pink as he caught you already staring. Introduce yourself, he mouthed. You turned to face the camera, grinning wider than before as your eyes scanned over the chat.

“Hey guys, I’m the guest, obviously. My name is Y/n.” You said.

did anyone else see the way she was staring at matt ? they’re in love, confirmed

she’s so real, i’d be staring too

i can’t even handle this, she’s so cute

“Basically, Y/n’s going to play while I tell her what to do. She’s never held a controller in her life.” Matt teased, his eyes flickering between the screen and the chat as you pressed the button to start the game.

“Wait, I have to create a whole character?” You asked, glancing over at Matt as he placed the headset over your ears. He chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, you have to create a whole character, is that not what you were expecting when you begged me to play this game?” He teased. You rolled your eyes and adjusted the headset, making sure the ear that was on his side was exposed so you could hear him.

“This is ridiculous, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me I had to create an entire chara—oh my God I can have pink hair, I take it back.” You rambled, scrambling through the hair colors. Matt’s laugh next to you had you grinning as your eyes flickered between the screen and the chat.

this banter is only proving my point that they’re in love

i’m so glad she’s streaming with him this is so funny

has anyone else noticed that matt hasn’t looked at the screen once

You glanced over at Matt, meeting his eyes immediately. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile as you shook your head and faced the screen again. You created your character, groaning when you realized you had to go through a thousand cut scenes, even though you were thrilled to be playing this game.

“I never understood why you can’t see those weird horse things until that dude gets eaten by the dragon.” Matt said, catching your attention enough for you to glance at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. You sighed through your nose and shook your head.

“I forgot, you’re a fake fan.” You said, interrupting him before he could fire back. “They’re thestrals, you can only see them if you’ve witnessed death, but they’re always there.” You explained, Matt furrowing his eyebrows as you faced the screen again.

y/n being a harry potter fan was not on my docket, but i’m not complaining

her humbling matt has got to be the funniest fucking thing i’ve ever seen in my life

i love this

The entire time you were going through the beginning quests, you and Matt had bickered back and forth, your smile wide with each comeback you shot at him. It wasn’t until a knock on Matt’s door that the two of you stopped talking. You paused the game, but Matt scoffed and unpaused it.

“You keep playing.” He demanded playfully, your own scoff leaving your lips as you shook your head and continued. Chris peeked his head into the door.

“Food’s here, just thought you guys should know.” He said, Matt nodding his head. Chris left the room, and Matt turned to you.

“I’ll go get it.” He said, standing from the chair as you turned to face him. Before you could process it, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours firmly and turned to leave the room. You smiled and shook your head before facing the screen and realizing what just happened.

oh mY GOD I FUCKING KNEW IT

DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT ??????

WHAT IS GOING ON MATT JUST KISSED HER ON FUCKING STREAM

You ignored the chat, trying to play it off and completely move past what happened, thinking that Matt did it on instinct. Chats were flying in at such a rapid pace that it felt as though everything on the screen was lagging. It was completely screwing up how you were playing, not only your racing heart and shaking hands on the controller.

You completely short circuited, having no idea what to do as Matt walked back into his room. He was laughing at something Chris had said as he sat down next to you and glanced over at the chat.

“Oh.”

You looked over at him and raised your eyebrows, your skin on fire as you watched his eyes scan over the rapid chats flying in at once.

“Yeah.” You said, Matt finally meeting your eyes with pink cheeks. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your nose before he sat back and grinned widely.

“I guess that was one hell of a hard launch, huh?”

tags: @strniolo , @ssturniolo , @thetriplets3 , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @toyourloves , @lvrsparadise , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @jellybeanbby , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @champangekisses , @floofparker , @lovelysturniolo

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Spoiled Brat

Remus Lupin x Fem!Gaunt!Reader

August Taylor Swift

Masterlist

Summary: When your escapism over the summer turns a bit more real, as you fall in love with a half blood your father would never approve of}

Wc- 3642

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, sexual themes and scenes, cussing, }

A/N- This was an idea I have been toying with for a while, this may become a mini-series if you'd like

Taglist- @otterlockholmes

Part two

If it was one thing your parents stuck into your head when you were younger, it was that you, {Y/N} Gaunt, were better than any other witch in your presence. 

‘The Lost Gaunt’ is what they referred to you as. You, and of course, your parents fed into this idea. People were sure they had died out, either from your family's admittedly embarrassing financial status, or from a few choice family members disgracing your blood line with Muggle blood.

It wasn't a secret, your family's blood soaked history and ideals on muggles of any variety. Your father spoke especially lowly of half bloods, saying they were some of the most loathsome and desperate of them all, with parents who tainted their good family names by giving it to scum. 

Very opinionated, that man.

You were much the same when you were younger. Snappy and spoiled, demanded everything and no one ever fought you on it. Even with your family's position with lack of wealth, when your parents came out of hiding as Voldemort started his horrid flock, your father didn't hesitate to join. There was no lack of support from expected places. Every pureblood with half sense wanted to be in the good graces of the heir of Slytherin, even if she didn't attend the school. Little you was treated like an absolute princess. Even receiving a letter from Durmstrang personally, your father opting for the obvious choice, burning your Hogwarts letter before you even read it. 

It made you an absolute terror when you got to the foreign school. Suddenly, you weren't as special as you were in London. Your name still carried a lot of marit, but so did several other students. You learned to keep your mouth shut, to keep your cards to your chest, and eventually, you unlearned everything your parents taught you. You met half bloods there, stronger than you had ever known witches and wizards to be, making close friends with several other open minded purebloods and friendly half bloods. 

Of course, you still had a family name to uphold. You studied and worked your hardest, eventually making it high enough on a social latter that Gaunt no longer mattered, but {Y/N} did. 

You started your rebellious streak in year 4, when your father asked you if you wanted to return home for the summer. It was the first time he gave you the choice, you refused. Instead, you traveled to Muggle London without his knowing. You went with a few friends, half bloods, they wanted to show you where they grew up. Your father would have your head for this. You thought in amusement as you danced through the market and gawked at all the muggle contraptions. You were sure to them you looked absolutely delirious, but you couldn't care less in the moment.

You wandered down the streets with a few girls who had broken off from the group. When you noticed a record store, your friends waved you off, refusing to join when they knew you'd be in there for hours. A boy who fancied you gifted you a small record player, and since then, you had been collecting muggle records at any opportunity. Thank Merlin your father didn't keep track of your spending.

You walked in with your head held high, you already gave off the impression of someone too good to be there, a force of habit. You walked down the aisle and searched the albums, dismissing people who tried to educate you on what was best, mostly men trying to impress you, you figured. Nothing more charming than being spoken down to. Eventually, you made it to some of the older ones, clearly used and used and used again. A soft yellow album caught your eye from the top shelf. Etta Jones? You thought for a moment. You had never seen it before, but the woman on the cover looked beautiful. 

You got on your toes and began to balance on a shelf, struggling to reach the damned record. You have a huff, ready to give in, before you hear a chuckle behind you. Whipping your head around you nearly spun around completely. Then, you saw him. A boy, he looked to be your age, tanned skin with soft pink scars littering his form, with one large one across his face. He had shaggy sandy blonde hair, almost brown, and the cockiest smirk on his face.

You huffed at him and put your hands on your hips, tilting your head at him. “Not very polite, you know. Watching a lady struggle without even an offer of help.” 

His smirk slowly turned to a dazzling smile. “You want my help? You've been blowing past people who've offered you help this whole time.” He remarked and you scoffed.

“Don't be coy. They weren't exactly being truly helpful. Also, no one here is as,” You gestured to him with both hands. “Vertically gifted as you.” 

He laughed at this and you got another flash of his pearly whites. “That so?”

“I only speak the truth.”

“That I see.”

“So will you?”

“Will I what?”

You scoffed with a scandalized look, gesturing to the album. “Help a damsel in distress?” 

He gave a playful hum and put his hands in his jean pockets, leaning forward a bit in his brown jumper that laid over a mustard yellow button up. “I'm not really the princely type, princess.” He teased and you slowly smirked. “I'm more in line with the monster.” 

“Well, kind monster, would you do your princess the kindness of grabbing her this single?” You hummed and he laughed. “My princess?”

“If you behave.” 

He looked you up and down before he walked over and grabbed the record, looking it over and holding it just out of reach as you tried to snatch it away. “What if I don't?”

You huffed and gave up on trying to swipe it, crossing your arms and biting your cheek. “That's not a very gentlemanly thing to do.”

“I'm not a very gentlemanly person.” He gave you a look that had the alarm bells in your head sounding, but you bit your lip and nodded. “Fine then. What would you like in return, hm?”

“Your name.”

“My name?” You huffed and smiled once more. He nodded with a serious look, but a smile tugged at his lips.

“{Y/N}.” You introduced and held your hand out. “You don't need my last name. You'll never have to call me it.” You remarked and his eyebrows raised in delight. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You mused as he handed you the record. 

“And your name?”

“Remus. Guess I'll skip the last name too. But please, call me Moony.” He remarked and you nodded. 

“Until next time, Moony.”

“Next time, {Y/N}.”

The summer was absolute bliss. You spent it doing all the things your father hated about muggles. Running in fields and jumping in stray bodies of water, going to parties and drinking until you were sick. You kissed muggle boys, went to underground concerts, and even took enchanted pictures for yourself to keep.

Though, you didn't see that record store boy for the rest of the summer. Not from lack of trying, however, going to the store twice a week to try and snag a glimpse of him. Eventually you gave up and went back to your friends.

The next summer, you did see him again. This time, it was a month in, you were out late at a party, and were waiting for the bus to take you to the flat you had bought under a fake muggle name. Well, you say you bought, in reality you had been taking portions of money from your father and pureblood families that wanted your favor, from the start of the school year, saving up enough to be the spoiled girl you were. 

You were standing under a street lamp, leaning against it as you pulled out a packet of cigarettes. You put it to your lips, just as you did, a voice called over to you. “Need a light?”

You turned to face the boy who seemed to sneak up on you in alarm, before you slowly lit up at the sight of him. He seemed puzzled by your expression before recognition covered his features. “Record store princess.”

“Record store monster.” You cheeked and he walked over, leaning down to cover the end of your smoke from the wind, lighting it with a simple flick. You didn't even think about how you didn't hear the usual metallic click of a lighter, instead, a snap. That was how you lit them anyway. 

“Where have you been, pretty boy?” You asked after a long drag, and he watched you breathe the smoke out of your lungs, eyes lingering on your lips. This made you curl them to give him a better view. “Around.”

“Something caught your eye?”

“Someone.” He muttered and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, glancing at the bus station. “I'm heading home, to my flat. Care to make sure your princess gets home safe?” 

He chuckled at the bold offer, rubbing the back of his neck and wetting his lips. There was a pause as he thought about it. “... lead the way.”

That summer was somehow even better than the previous. He spent the night with you, that night, then every single other night. He came and never dreamed of leaving, only gone a handful of days for a few hours at a time for his summer job.

There was this amazing peace, waking up, laying in your stomach, hugging your pillows in your plush massive mess of blankets and pillows, with him. Most of the boys you brought back would be gone in the morning, you preferred it that way, but when you woke up to his arm around your bare back and his nose in the nape of your bruised and bite ridden neck, you couldn't dream of another outcome.

He joked, the second he saw the large canopy bed, about you letting monsters into your private quarters. He seemed to not think so highly of himself, but with every part of your skin he discovered, with every touch and sound he drew from you, he seemed to grow more confident in your situationship. It was dangerous, you knew it, this muggle boy had you wrapped around his finger. Judging by the way he looked at you when you would fall into the clouds of euphoria, he met the same fate.

You had never felt so content, going out and partying, coming home before he did, and spending your nights and afternoons together. With the odd exceptions of a few days out of the months, he was glued to you. Your friends teased you, but for once, you couldn't find it in yourself to be embarrassed. When school came, you had never felt so crushed. You spent the day before lingering in each other's presence without a word. The silence was enough. 

When he brought you to bed, and your skin was pressed to his, his nose to your temple as he whispered sweet words of encouragement and pure infatuation, you were wreathing and gasping in short spouts, you muttered something that drew his rough movements to a stop. You hadn't even realized it, and he noticed how your eyes squished together and you whined with a huff. Fluttering open your eyes, staring up at his knee weakening hazels. He stared at you in silence and you slowly moved to sit up. It clicked to him, you hadn't even realized what you said. You'd never know that those three little words utterly destroyed him. Knowing that tomorrow he would be away from you again. He knew it would be hell.

He huffed and slowly pulled back. He began slowly, taking you in as if he was trying to commit you to memory. Every curve and blemish, every bit of scarred flesh he devoured with an open mouth kiss. You were lost once more to your own ecstasy. 

He wanted to say it back so horribly. 

He wanted you to know he loved you too.

~~~

You spent all of your sixth year waiting for summer, but when it came you dreaded it. Your father told you that you were to move back to London and resume your normal life in preparation for finding you a suitor.

He had promised your mother that he would wait until you were at least 20 to start, but her passing this year it seems he changed his mind. So you returned to business as usual, being enrolled in Hogwarts for your last year of schooling, and being undertaken by the Black’s matriarch, Walaburga, to learn how to be a pureblood witch worth marrying.

Every day she would come to the Gaunt manor, quiz and train you on behaviors and etiquette. You hated those meetings, she was needlessly cruel and fake nice, to the point it was painful for you to watch her try and flatter and build your fathers ego. It made you sick. Soon, but not soon enough, the summer was over and at least you would be at Hogwarts and away from that sour faced woman.

~~

Remus had gone to your flat that summer, he stayed there for a week before he realized you weren't coming home. He hated it. He hated how you didn't tell him where you were, where you were going. There was this silent agreement between the both of you, You never told him where you would be and he never asked, Never exchanged much about your current personal lives, just the past. So if someone was to ask him where you were, he wouldn't have a clue.  You promised him you'd see each other next summer, and that was enough. 

At first his bitterness was winning, he wanted to believe you left without a word because you wanted nothing more than what you were that summer. Deep down, however, he knew. He knew by the way you looked at him in the morning, how you would pull him into the middle of the room in your socks and his shirt, like it was a dress on you, twirling around and slow dancing to that record he got you the first time you met. You always got what you wanted, and Remus knew he was what you wanted. When he left, he set a paper folded up between the door and the wall, a simple but desperate note. He needed you.

So when he got back to Hogwarts, he was a wreck. His friends noticed immediately. When he sat on the train, and looked out the window instead of shoving his nose in a book or teasing the others together.

“Moony, you good man?” James spoke up first after the three shared awkward looks. 

“Yeah dude, you look like a kicked puppy. Or James when Lily isn't looking at him.” Sirius tried to joke, looking through his suitcase before he paused and his eyes widened.

Remus was suddenly filled with dread. “Don't-”

“Let me guess, the cool girl you met last summer didn't show up this time? Told you, muggle girls her age are crazy.” Sirius laughed, not looking up, only to get jabbed harshly in his side with James’ elbow. Sirius hissed and held his side, looking at James with a glare before James flicked his eyes to Remus.

Sirius looked over and saw just how broken up Remus seemed to be about it. He sighed and gave him a pained sympathetic look. Watching as Peter took out a chocolate bar and handed it over to Remus. He muttered a thank you and took it. Sirius sighed and shook his head. “Look, I'm sorry dude. I don't mean it.”

“It's fine.” Remus answered quickly. “I was surprised she even gave me the time of day. I guess I always have that summer. I'll be over it in time, I'm sure she isn't missing me as much, as I'm moping over her, maybe that will help me get over it.”

He tried to believe that. He really did. His words were coming out low, he tried to sound wise but he truly sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. She was all he could think about. From the train, to the carriages, to the Great Hall. Lily saw him and gave him a pout, he had written to her over the summer about what had happened. He wanted her perspective about what had happened, where he could have gone wrong, and out of the thirty he sent her she responded in kind to all of them. She walked up to him, straight past James which left the tall boy to theatrics. 

“Sirius did she just-” James gasped and clenched his chest.

“She did, James, she did.” Sirius walked up behind him with a smirk.

“Does she love me anymore?” He turned to Sirius and the shorter boy snickered.

“I don't think so, Jamie. I'll always love you, though.” Sirius indulged his theatrics and caught James (totally not with a struggle, totally smooth, Sirius is very strong) and James gasped. “You will, won't you, pads?”

“Always, my love.” Sirius declared his affections and James fanned his face like a swooning Victorian debutante. Lily rolled her eyes so hard she swore they would fall from her face. 

She turned back to Remus who gave her a painful smile. “I left her a note like you suggested.”

“Anything?”

“Nothing.” Remus sighed and she nodded carefully. 

“I'm sure there is more to it, Remus. Don't let it consume you.” Lily tried to reassure him and he sighed again, making James and Sirius catch up as they sat down. 

“Yeah, there are a million girls in the world!” Sirius tried to cheer him up and both Lily and James winced at that.

“None of them are like her.” Remus sighed and Sirius gave an owl-like look and then gave a breath of shock. “... Damn Remus, that much, huh?”

He groaned and hit his head on the table. “I just want to sleep.”

“We could always ditch the sorting ceremony.” Lily tried to nudge him, he seemed to smile at her a bit at the offer. 

“Yeah, but then you'll miss a seventh year being sorted.” Peter piped up and the four of them snapped over to look at him. 

“What? Seventh?” She asked as she looked up at the kids in front of the hall, before she bit her tongue. “Right.. that Gaunt girl every Slytherin is losing their mind over?” 

Sirius choked on his pumpkin juice before he quickly cleared his throat as James patted his back. “Woah mate!”

“Her! My mom was tutoring her all summer. Regulus told me. That girl, trying to be the perfect bride or some shit? Just another spoiled pureblood.” Sirius huffed and Lily gave a faint nod. “I hate to agree, but apparently she's the worst.”

“Of course, she's the Slytherin heir.” Sirius huffed. “Apparently she went to Dumstrung, and you know how awful they are.”

“Ah.” Lily mumbled and her eyes landed on you past the crowd, nudging Remus. “There she is. Oh Merlin, spoiled and pretty? Dangerous combination.”

Remus sighed and looked over as you sat on the chair. His entire body froze. “Ahh! {Y/N} Gaunt! Slytherin!” 

The hat didn't hesitate. You had a calm blank expression you were tutored on all summer. Looking across the students, almost bored. You stood up and dusted off your robes, before you froze up at the sound of your name being shouted across the hall.

Remus didn't think. He saw you and shot up from his seat. Lily looked at him, startled, looking between the two before her eyes widened at the name. Oh Merlin. 

Sirius was bewildered, James was stunned, and Peter hid his face away from the crowds of students who turned to look at Remus. He got a variety of different looks from everyone, but there was a running theme. Who do you think you are? Talking to Gaunt.

“{Y/N}.” He called again, firmer. You looked like a deer in headlights. Staring at him in a stunned silence before one of the girls you met on the train tugged at your sleeve. You glanced at her and by the time you looked back, Remus was rushing across the hall to you. No no no no no.

“Fuck.” You hissed and snatched your sleeve from her. You watched as he closed in on you. You felt every hair on your neck stand up. “Fuck fuck.” You whispered.

You panicked. And you ran. He was stunned and froze on the spot. You ran straight out of the hall. Remus cursed and turned to his friends, then to the professors. Lily tried to stand and bring him back to sit down, but as if he was a wild animal, the movement gave him a rush of adrenaline. What did he do? What did this absolute stupid and love sick fool do? 

He ran after you. The entire hall was silent, even the professors stunned before his head of house yelled at him to sit down. He ignored them, turning the corner out of the hall and dashing down the hall he saw you run down.

The hall was quiet for a moment or two, before Lily spoke up. “I'll make it up to you, Professors!” She shouted back before she ran after the two. 

“Me too!” James shouted and followed after her. 

“I will not!” Sirius laughed and ran after them, Peter looking at the shouting professor before she made eye contact with him. Peter slowly sat up and she gave him a warning glance, before he quickly scrambled after his friends. 

McGonagall could only sigh as Dumbledore stifled a laugh into his sleeve.