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thekingofthenameless · 2 months

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Tell me your top 3 OCs

Thanks for the ask!!! :D

My top two are definitely Merlin and Charlie!

(I have other ocs of course, but I have no thoughts about them rn because I’m writing a oneshot specifically centered around these two, so I’m just gonna talk about their bond for the third lmao.)

1. Merlin:

Merlin (full name Merlin Caledonensis Ambrosius) is a Black transgender aroace man! (Specially non-partnering, as well as being romance and sex repulsed.) He’s also neurodivergent: he has schizophrenia, psychosis (as a symptom of it), misophonia, and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

He has a carefully crafted image of himself that he’s made as a way to survive, and no one besides Charlie, Ganieda, or Vivian will know his true self.

He hides it all under being a very mellow person.

He’ll smile easily, make shitty puns, converse with most people he comes across, give advice and trade knowledge freely without there being any catch, unlike some others out there.

Many consider him a friend, one of the most renowned protectors of magic, and one of the most famous magical beings, that everyone at least knows the name of. (Despite the demons that apparently have plagued his mind for centuries.)

But both he and his dragon are shrouded in myths and legends that no one knows are true or not, and he’ll never confirm or deny, simply dodging the curiosity or asking about the questioner with a smile.

(Unless it’s about being secretly married, because then he’ll go on a disgusted rant about being thrust into romance, and how he’s never been in a relationship, and he doesn’t need it, he has Charlie and his sister and his friends.)

His secrecy isn’t just limited to his past; it’s to the point that he feels exposed if someone simply finds out something he likes.

He usually doesn’t think about the fact that he’s constantly hiding parts of himself to make him seem more palatable, but when he does, he resents it. (And understands, because he’s hard to deal with. He has no idea why Charlie still loves him, sometimes.)

Just a few of the secrets he holds close to his chest are being naturally left-handed, hiding it behind the mask of ambidexterity that he taught himself. His complete and utter lack of romantic or sexual attraction, to the point of being repulsed at the idea. His aversion to a frankly maddening amount of sounds, and being born a girl, who hadn’t wanted to change his reproductive organs because they didn’t make him feel distressed and not at home in his own body like his breasts.

The voices in his mind tell him that everyone knows, no matter how hard he’s tried to hide them, and that they’ll hurt him again; Charlie has to constantly reassure him that no one else knows besides the two of them. (But not that he’d never betray him by revealing them. He’ll always trust his familiar, and Charlie knows that.)

Art Dump! (And an excerpt of his appearance from another character’s point of view because I’m lazy lol)

Click on the pictures for better quality and to see the whole thing! (The old one is his first, older design; the second one is his current one.)

[Amos] tries not to stare, taking in his appearance nonetheless. The man who is apparently Merlin seems to be only a couple of inches shorter than him, even from where he’s standing. Long white hair, that shines like freshly fallen snow, rests halfway down his back. It’s locked into thick strands that remind him of strong rope, tied up into a mid-high ponytail. Every side of his head is shaved, showing softer but still coarse hair that glimmers like frost. “Merlin,” Uther calls. “I have someone for you to meet.” He turns, revealing his face. He’s beautiful. He’s Black; his skin is a warm, dark brown. Several scars (one on the left side of his forehead, above his eyebrow; another spanning from his forehead to his nose, ending a little below his eyes; and the last across his left cheek) darker than his skin adorn his face. His eyebrows, eyelashes, and beard (which has a coarse, curly texture) are as white as his hair. His almond shaped eyes are a lighter shade of blue, with orange rings around his pupils. Eyebags darker than his skin, but a different shade than his scars, are under them. The bridge of his nose is prominent, making it curve. An aquiline nose, if he remembers correctly. He hasn’t seen anyone who has it in a while. He’s wearing a dark green bliaut, (that shows some of his chest, and he has to quickly look away) brown pants, a long, hooded blue cape, and brown heeled boots. A necklace, which is only a gem held with black string, rests against his neck. A bracelet is on his right wrist, and a ring is on his right hand’s second finger.

2. Charlie:

Charlie (full name Charlemagne William Ambrosius) seems a little rougher around the edges than his wizard, but he’s still nice (once he gets to know someone).

If he doesn’t know them yet, he won’t hide the fact that he stares them down while gauging their character. And even if he does, if they aren’t Ganieda or Vivian, he’ll still give them the same stare if they say or do something that could register as a possible threat to his beloved. (Yes, he calls Merlin that now. You’re welcome.)

He’ll say the things that Merlin thinks but won’t say, and doesn’t care that he comes off as mean or blunt sometimes either.

No one else’s opinion matters as long as Merlin is safe.

Anyone trying to separate the two of them, no matter for how long, immediately comes off as suspicious to him. People have attempted to take advantage of his familiar’s illness in the past, by convincing him that their actions weren’t real and were things he hallucinated or imagined. Sometimes, they also do the opposite and make him remember things that never happened.

And there’s the separation that still haunts both of them in different ways.

He’d been out hunting (which takes hours, since he’s a 3,000 pound dragon that eats a lot, but at least he only needs to eat every 4-5 days) leaving Merlin behind with their mutual acquaintance, Mordecai. His familiar had been feeling slightly tired, but neither of them were too worried; he’d hopefully sleep it off.

When he returned, Merlin was gone.

After hours of frantically trying to contact him through their telepathic bond multiple times while tracking his scent, he found a monastery.

His companion’s scent led him down to a dungeon, which had a chair with blood at its feet. And it continued in a trail somewhere else.

He had to quell his rising terror and fury to focus on finding him, following the blood and still strong scent upstairs.

Finally, he’d found the door that Merlin seemed to be behind, and he entered quietly when he only heard silence.

Even after seeing the blood, he still wasn’t expecting Merlin on a bed, sheets under him bloodied and stained, two corpses on the floor.

He was curled into himself, staring off at nothing.

They’d tortured him, broken him.

He never wants to see his beloved look that like again.

Art dump and excerpt:

(Like Merlin, the old one is his first, older design; the second one is his current one.)

(Charlemagne stares at [Uther] the whole time, red eyes almost glowing in the dim light.) How is no one else unnerved by him? He’s entirely unsettling, with those red eyes, (at least they have white sclera; that helps with making him look slightly less monstrous) giant, feathered wings colored like lava, and thick-furred body colored like soil and fire. (What kind of dragon has fur and feathers, anyways?) Besides that, the mark of being a familiar adorns his leg, for lack of a better word, unable to be hidden.

Their bond:

(To help with some things, cambions and dragons both age extremely slowly! Cambions age one year in every five years; dragons age one year in every fifty-five years.)

Yes, I did math for this lmao.

(Dragons also turn fully adult at five years old [two hundred seventy-five chronologically]. At a year old [fifty-five], they’re still too small to open their eyes. Five years later [60], they’ve opened, but their teeth haven’t grown in yet. Ten years later [70], they’re able to be weaned off milk. At two years old [110], they’re able to speak. From there, the main changes are their bodies slowly changing into adulthood.)

Merlin and Charlie have been familiars for a long time: over 4,000 years. (I don’t have an exact year yet. 😓) The two of them have been best friends, and inseparable for most of their lives.

Merlin, pre-transition, as a thirteen year old (chronologically 65) on the cusp of puberty, found him abandoned by his parents in the woods. They didn’t think he’d survive for much longer; the only reason he wasn’t classified as a runt was because mammalian dragons only have one offspring at a time.

At a year old (chronologically 55), he was too small to even open his eyes, but he could hear. Merlin’s hands gently ran over his fur, murmuring soothing words, getting him used to the feeling, voice and scent of human, before he gently cradled him in his arms and took him home. The little kit would be eaten by anything opportunistic enough if he didn’t.

Adhan was used to her son’s empathetic nature, but she never expected him to bring home a dragon.

Eventually, she was convinced, though.

Merlin fed him cow’s milk from a wooden bowl, hoping that he would able to digest it. (He was, fortunately.)

He looked down at the kit, colored like soil and fire, and lava all in one, and decided to name him Charlemagne William. He wasn’t going to give him his last name just yet.

Merlin always knew he was more intelligent than an average animal, no matter what anyone else thought, and talked to him as though he was human even back then.

Soon, it became commonplace to see the two of them together, Merlin either holding the little dragon in his arms, or carrying him in the blanket that he wrapped around himself.

Charlie became more affectionate as well, always curling against his side or on his chest.

By the next five years, when Merlin aged into fourteen, there was no concept of the two ever separating, but there was confusion when Charlie stayed the same size and age. (He’d opened his eyes only recently, and his teeth weren’t coming in; he couldn’t eat solid food as a result.)

Amidst Merlin’s worry over his dragon not seeming to grow, puberty slammed into him.

And he didn’t feel like a girl. It wasn’t his clothes; he’d always loved outfits that go down to his knees or farther. It was his body.

He felt too feminine, felt like he was all blossoming curves and soft features. He hated seeing his breasts grow, and he began to bind them, hiding the fact from everyone; fortunately, his healing factor helped offset any negative effects, and everyone was focused on getting Ganieda and Vivian together, anyways.

(Ugh, romance.)

But what he would be if he wasn’t a girl? A man? (Yes, is his answer, deep down.) That was ludicrous.

This would pass.

(It did not pass.)

At night, when everything was quiet, he vented to his dragon about everything, gently cradling him in his arms. How he didn’t feel like a girl and didn’t feel at home in his body. How certain sounds set him off, and people thought he would outgrow it, but he wasn’t, and how he was terrified of telling his family these things. He had to be a good daughter.

(Charlie would nuzzle him, understanding every word, purring as loudly as he could to comfort his beloved wizard.)

Charlie finally started growing more teeth when Merlin was sixteen, chronologically eighty years and six months then. He slowly weaned his dragon, introducing him to different types of meats and other foods. Apparently, they’re omnivorous, but it’s usually easier to just eat meat instead because of their size.

Despite the relief at the fact that his dragon just aged very slowly, his body dysphoria refused to leave. He knew that it wasn’t normal to hate looking at yourself in the mirror, and hate becoming a woman. (Especially since Ganieda accepted it, and loved it, happy to grow older so she and Vivian could marry sooner.)

Sometimes, when he was sure that everyone was asleep, he’d shapeshift into a man under the moonlight streaming through his window. He’d stare at himself, reverently running his hands over his face, quietly walking around his room in the body he so desperately wanted.

But he pushed it down, keeping it a guilty secret. Womanhood was still important to him; he had to be a good daughter, a good sister, and he loved them too much to just leave. But how would they react, if he did tell them?

(Charlie always treated him with the same love, man or woman, affectionately nuzzling him and purring. His eyes held an understanding that he wished everyone else would have.)

Maybe… he could broach the topic with his mother.

He did, eventually, and she gently stroked his steadily growing locs as he curled against her, speaking in nothing louder than a whisper the whole time. (Charlie rested against his feet, quietly watching them both. Adhan easily believed her son about his intelligence, now.)

She didn’t have any advice, in the end. But she kissed his forehead and told him that she’d always love him, no matter what. And if she did end up having a son, then she’d be blessed with the most amazing one she could have.

Twenty-five years later, at twenty-one (one hundred five years old), he shapeshifted into a man again, this time using his magic to make this form his true one. He cried when he was finally able to have the body he’d wanted for so long permanently.

Charlie wrapped around his legs, nuzzling him, and he picked him up, holding his dragon close. He purred loudly, sweet and comforting, even as Merlin’s tears soaked his fur.

Another seventeen years later, when Merlin was twenty-four (one hundred twenty-two), and Charlie was two (one hundred ten); Merlin was reading by the fire, and Charlie was curled against his right side.

Charlie looked up at his wizard adoringly, letting out soft purrs. He wanted to speak, talk to him just as much, and thank him for everything he’s done.

Merlin’s hand reached down to gently scratch his head, and he leaned into the contact, wishing he could speak even more.

Maybe… he could try.

“Merlin?” He said quietly, doing his best to not wriggle in excitement so the surprise wasn’t spoiled.

His wizard looked up at the unfamiliar voice, brow furrowing in confusion. After searching the room, his gaze went back down to him. “Charlie, did you hear that?”

“Yes,” was his simple answer.

Merlin’s mouth dropped open, eyes widening in shock. “What- You just talked.”

He smiled proudly, tail thumping as his wizard’s brain broke. “You can talk.”

After the subsequent reveal, and excitement had died down, they had long conversations that lasted for hours. At the end of it, their bond had only strengthened, and now, they knew things about each other that no one else ever would.

Twenty-three more years later, when Merlin was twenty-nine (one hundred forty-five), his schizophrenia began to set in.

He began to hear people calling his name when they hadn’t; began seeing things out of the corner of his eyes, with nothing being there when he turned around, confused. His food began to taste terrible when he knew it was the same as everyone else’s, and he became terrified of it being poisoned.

Then the voices and delusions started.

They started out positive, but over time they began to tell him crueler things.

His delusions told him that someone has invaded their home and is walking around (he can hear their footsteps), bugs were crawling on his hands in the dark until he turned a light on, or touched Charlie so his glowing spread to his hands.

And they happened over, and over, and over again, but every time it was real until he came out of it and remembered that they aren’t.

At least they usually didn’t last for that long.

But his hallucinations started getting worse, and instead of just hearing nonexistent voices, people and creatures appeared.

Sometimes it made absolute sense that a stranger was in their house. And they weren’t a threat, simply doing things that made him inquire why they were there.

Charlie, who was up to his knees now, was determined to help his wizard.

He suggested putting bells on the door so Merlin can think back and remember if they rang or not before he panics about a stranger being in their house. (It isn’t foolproof, but it does help.)

When the gaps in Merlin’s memory began to get worse, it didn’t matter. He’d remember for him. He’d eat some of his food first so that he knew that it wasn’t poisoned. He’d stay awake when he was afraid of falling asleep.

Merlin took care of him first. It was his turn.

After they fought in battles, and Merlin’s sensitivity to loud noises increased, along with new trauma, his stance didn’t change.

He’d breathe on him instead of calling his name so he doesn’t get as startled, and he’d walk across a room (in the rare occasion of that) instead of yelling for him. He’d do his absolute best to not yell at someone making him angry, no matter how much he wanted to.

He’d understand when Merlin got snappy because of his senses being bombarded with too much, and never blame him for it. He’d lay his head on his stomach as a comforting weight when panic became too much.

He’d say that he loves him, and he’s not going anywhere, he never is, and repeat those words over and over again, as many times as he needs to.

Merlin was sixty-five (three hundred twenty-five), when he became immortal. He could’ve used the spell that makes aging stop at thirty, like Ganieda, but the main reasons he didn’t was because he wanted to have natural white hair, not just changing his hair color, and he thought looking older would make him seem more distinguished. (If he’d aged badly, he would’ve shifted back to his younger appearance and kept the white hair. He didn’t, though.)

Charlie was a fully grown adult at five years old (three hundred thirteen), and just his head was as big as Merlin’s torso.

They went flying together now, and Merlin had crafted a saddle himself. Sometimes it was just a slow, leisurely fly for the sake of it; sometimes it was high speed, filled with loops and falling through the air. They still hardly ever argued about anything, but in the very rare occasion they did, they’d stay in the same room, spending time together in silence so they can calm down and see the other’s point of view. They always, always talked things out in the end.

They share the same feelings towards each other: I love you. I love you so much that I can’t fathom spending time away from you unless it’s absolutely necessary, and I’ve willingly chosen to stay with you for the rest of our lives. This bond was formed by a labor of love, and nothing can ever separate us, except for death.

I know things about you that no one else ever will. Typical familial terms like father figure or brother don’t fit us, because our relationship is far too complex to dilute it down into one role.

Soft whispers and gentle touches define us.

I am not leaving you. I am never leaving you.

One morning, after they woke up intertwined together, like always, there was a mark of swirls and leaves on Charlie’s right front leg, and when Merlin looked at his own body, there was one on his right bicep.

No one knew what they meant, until Merlin’s throat was slit after an ambush.

He didn’t die immediately. He choked on his own blood for at least ten minutes before he passed out, terrified of dying, hoping Charlie was safe, and would be able to recover in the end.

He woke up in a meadow filled with flowers, any signs of his violent death gone.

Before he could panic, a voice called his name.

He turned to see a being with completely dark, blue-ish gray skin.

Her hair, braided in a fishtail, long, feathered wings that almost dragged on the ground, and eyes, subtly glowing, were all completely white.

Golden earrings pierced her ears; a necklace of the same color with a red gem rested against her neck. A circlet that matched both was on her head.

Amara, goddess of life.

He immediately knelt in front of her, averting his eyes. He knew the legends, had seen paintings and murals of her. But why was she here?

Charlie appearing out of nowhere startled him. Completely forgetting about proper etiquette in front of a goddess, he ran to his dragon, stroking his fur and hugging him tightly.

Charlie hadn’t been hurt at all, unlike him. He didn’t know what had happened; he’d been trying to find him since their separation, and suddenly… he was here.

Amara had been quietly watching, smiling. She offered to explain, making both of them look at her; Merlin sheepishly apologized for his lack of decorum. She laughed and waved it off, understanding.

Charlie rested his head against his chest, and Merlin carded his fingers through his fur after they sat down. Amara explained that Merlin wasn’t going to die permanently: his heritage of being the former Anti-Christ had given him resurrective immortality. It was far more pragmatic than to make a new Anti-Christ every time one died. The markings on the two of them were from them becoming familiars, a bond of a precious animal companion and a wizard.

Charlie had received some of Merlin’s powers without them realizing it, which meant that if one of them died, they both would, and they would resurrect together. They also had a telepathic bond, like Merlin and Ganieda.

There was no spell to perform for them to become familiars. It was because they loved each other that much.

They’re still one of the only familiar pairs in the world, even now. Many wizards have animal companions, of course, but none of them have formed that bond created by a labor of love.

Art dump:

THEY ARE EVERYTHING TO ME. YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND.

Artist credits: HappyArt9, cat-gh0ul, NaldThal, heropaws, biposi, and honeyxmonkey!

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angelfic · 1 year

Text

— IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU BABY

pairing: mattheo riddle x nott!reader

summary: you weren't quite used to the attention of other boys, and it seems your brother's best friend isn't too fond of it either

warnings: brother's best friend trope!! swearing, kissing, not much else, very much unedited

author’s note: i don't tend to stray outside of the marauders era characters buuuut i've been a bit obsessed with mattheo and theo recently so this was for my own selfish needs lol as always let me know what you think!!

He had barely looked away from you all evening.

You knew the only reason Mattheo’s eyes had been fixed on you for the entirety of dinner was because of a certain type of attention you had unconsciously garnered on your first day back at school. Particularly male attention. It wasn’t any less disconcerting, however, knowing that your brother’s best friend was prepared to fist fight any potential romantic advances towards you because he was just as protective as your actual older sibling.

Your brother Theodore is no better, a displeased frown appearing every five minutes when he looks over to where you sit at the Gryffindor table.

“Merlin, boys are pathetic,” Ginny mutters, spearing a potato with her fork. “You go away for one summer and come back slightly prettier and they flock to you like bees to honey!” You’re about to weakly protest that she’s exaggerating, but at that exact moment you’re interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

You slowly turn on the bench, reluctantly lowering your goblet of pumpkin juice to face Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw boy who you’d only ever spoken to when he was going out with Ginny.

“Hi, Michael,” you sigh, offering him a bland smile.

“Hello, Nott,” Michael replies, with what he probably thinks is a winning smile. “Had a good summer? I was just going to ask if you wanted to go on the first Hogsmeade visit of the term with me.”

You stare at him, unblinking. “Er- well, as… nice as that sounds,” you say slowly, not meaning a word. You glance at Ginny as pointedly as you can manage and raise an eyebrow. “I don’t quite relish the idea of going out with my best friend’s ex.”

“Oh! I, erm, I didn’t actually see you there, Ginny,” he stammers, laughing sheepishly. “My mistake.”

“Quite,” Ginny says drily, turning back to her plate of food.

“Well, er, see you later then,” Michael mumbles, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes back to the Ravenclaw table.

You bite your lip to stifle your giggles but it’s not long before you catch Ginny’s eye and the both of you erupt into fits of laughter.

“I can’t believe I ever went out with him,” Ginny groans, wiping her eyes.

“Was he always such a tosser or is that new?” you ask, snorting at the way Ginny scrunches up her face in embarrassment.

You’re still laughing when your eyes happen to pass over the Slytherin table just to focus on Mattheo.

You notice with a jolt that he’s looking at you again. This time, his eyes flick over to the Ravenclaw table for a second where Michael has settled back onto, then back to you and he quirks a brow quizzically.

Frowning, you mouth at him to stop in hopes that he ceases his scrutiny, just for him to roll his eyes and return to whatever one-sided conversation Blaise Zabini was attempting to engage him in. You hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel after realising Mattheo has just witnessed such an embarrassing encounter, but you’ve found over the years that you’re not the best at hiding the effects he has on you. Theo has never mentioned it in front of Mattheo as far as you’re aware, but he definitely hasn’t shied away from teasing you about the childhood crush you have on your brother’s closest friend. Not that you’ve ever admitted it to him anyway, and you’ve gotten a lot better at hiding it since nothing could ever come of it.

“Your brother and Riddle have been looking like they’re ready to halve the male population of Hogwarts since we got on the bloody train,” Ginny says, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Tell me about it,” you sigh, cutting into your carrot a little more viciously than needed. “They keep looking over at our table. I feel like I’m on one of those Muggle reality television programmes Hermione was telling your dad about the other week.”

Arthur Weasley was absolutely transfixed when he was learning about reality television from Hermione during breakfast the week you both stayed at The Burrow, and although you zoned out after his sixteenth question about a singular programme, you feel as though you caught the gist of it.

“Hm,” Ginny agrees, grimacing at the memory. She had nodded off at the table during that conversation and fallen asleep on her slice of toast. “In fairness, that’s not really a new thing.”

“What, being watched by my two guard dogs?” you ask in a mock-serious voice.

“Yeah, but…” Ginny chews thoughtfully for a second before answering. “I’m not just talking about today, or even recently. Your brother mostly minds his own business. I’m talking about Riddle. He’s always looking at you, I noticed it last year. Wherever we are, kind of like he’s checking up on you,” she says like it’s common knowledge, shrugging. “It’s sweet, I guess.”

You blink at her, a little speechless.

“What?” Ginny frowns after a few seconds of your silence. You look at her with raised eyebrows, not really taking her seriously. In your first few years at Hogwarts, you had confided in Ginny regarding your silly, little girl feelings for Mattheo and she would read into every action he took towards you in an attempt to prove he liked you too. Obviously, he saw you as nothing but a younger sister figure and once you grew up a bit, Ginny had let it go too.

Ginny reads your dubious expression now and sets down her knife and fork to cross her arms. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m serious! I’m not just saying it because you were helplessly in love with him until you were, like, fourteen.”

“Shush!” you hiss, thwacking her arm. “Why don’t you just get up on stage with Dumbledore and ask him to include that titbit of information for the entire school to hear in his speech!”

“Good idea,” she says, nodding seriously and starting to get up. You know she’s just teasing, but you start spluttering and frantically grab at her sleeve to sit her back down, causing her to topple onto you slightly. This sets you both off laughing again and you find it hard to stop for the rest of dinner and desert, thankfully staying far away from the topic of Mattheo. You also pointedly avoid looking at him again.

Once dinner is over, you head to the Gryffindor common room with the rest of your house and catch up with everyone for a while. After a couple hours of socialising and fifteen minutes of helping Neville Longbottom search for his pet toad, you head up to your dorm with Ginny and Lena, one of your other dormmates, to unpack.

As soon as you open your luggage, you search for your pyjamas and immediately change out of your robes and into a t-shirt and baggy shorts for comfort. You’re in the middle of unpacking some textbooks when you hear Lena whistle from behind you.

“I do not remember those pyjamas looking like that,” Lena comments, grinning at you. Rolling your eyes, you comply with her request to do a little spin and you can’t help feeling pleased when Lena and Ginny start whooping and hollering. “You’ve always been gorgeous, but you really grew up this summer, huh? Look at those legs!”

“Tell me about it,” Ginny pipes in, flopping down on her bed and abandoning her unpacked suitcase. “She came to stay for a week and Mum looked like she was going to cry every time she saw us. Something about ‘blossoming into young ladies’ or whatever bollocks.”

“You ‘blossomed’ last year,” you point out, and Lena hums in agreement. “I haven’t forgotten how Zacharias Smith fell off his broom trying to wave at you during Quidditch practice.”

Ginny groans and starts ranting about teenage boys again. Lena joins in and starts teasing her about how Harry Potter is the only boy she hasn’t complained about and you’re about to set down your belongings to help Lena dodge the pillows Ginny is throwing at her when a flash of green and silver in your suitcase catches your eye.

“Shite, I have Theo’s uniform,” you huff, grabbing the clothes out of your suitcase and sliding your slippers on. “That means he has mine and I am not dealing with this at seven in the morning. I’m gonna go drop this off, be back in a minute.”

Ginny says goodbye before resuming her pillow attack on Lena as you make your way out of the room and down into the common room. It’s nearly empty, with most people having gone to their rooms to pack and a quick glance at the clock tells you its past curfew. You decide to take the risk since you have a reasonable excuse, but you hope that if you do get caught, it isn’t by Filch or Snape.

By the time you’ve reached the dungeons, you thank Merlin that Theo had the sense to tell you the password for the Slytherin common room before dinner in case of emergency.

“Pureblood,” you mutter, fighting the urge to scoff when the door swings open. You enter the common room and brighten up when you see that the only students still hanging around are Theo and his friends. Your brother seems to have already started unpacking since he’s standing and holding your uniform, presumably about to come and find you. His friends all mumble polite ‘hello’s and he walks up to you with a smile.

“Oh, hey, I was just-” Theo cuts himself off when he properly looks at you and frowns. “Wha- Why are you wearing pyjamas out and about?”

“You’re wearing pyjamas too!” you exclaim, slightly embarrassed that your brother is doing this in front of your friends. They all turn to look at you again, hearing the indignation in Theo’s voice and you notice Mattheo suddenly sits up straighter. Suddenly aware of your bare legs, you tug down the material of your shorts, despite the fact they aren’t even very short to begin with.

“Oi. Stop looking at my sister!”” Theo snaps, glaring at Blaise, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. You know the only reason they glanced at you in the first place is out of curiosity regarding Theo’s question, but Theo and Mattheo scowl at them all the same and they all start sputtering, Draco in particular when Pansy narrows her eyes at him. Theo sighs at you, quickly exchanging your uniforms. “Just- at least take something to cover up back to your room.”

“I’ll walk her back,” Mattheo says, out of nowhere. He stands up and makes his way over to you, face carefully blank. Theo nods, agreeing quickly before he ruffles your hair goodbye to go and finish packing. You’re too surprised by Mattheo’s offer to protest until you’re already out of the Slytherin common room.

“I don’t need someone to walk me back, you know,” you mumble after a minute of charged silence.

“It was either me or Theo,” he shrugs, completely unapologetic when his mouth quirks up in a smug smile. “And I know you prefer me.”

“You’re both equally annoying,” you say, rolling your eyes, happy that he’s talking to you like normal again. You hated it whenever Mattheo was serious – it was rarely ever towards you and you much preferred when his whole face lit up with a smile. He begins to tease you about your bunny rabbit slippers and you’re in the middle of pretending to be irked when you both run into Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff prefect doing patrol duties.

“Hey,” Ernie offers you a friendly smile and gives Mattheo a brief, slightly nervous glance. While you prefer not to get into trouble for breaking curfew, Mattheo clearly couldn’t care less and his relaxed, yet intimidating stance must be off-putting to Ernie. Thankfully, you’re on friendly terms with the Hufflepuff and you give him an even brighter smile to make up for it, to which he beams at. “How was your summer?”

“Good, yeah! Erm, listen Ernie. We didn’t mean to be out at this time, it’s just that I accidentally had my brother’s uniform and needed to-”

“Oh, forget it. Don’t worry, I won’t dock you any points,” Ernie reassures you, waving off your excuses and you instantly relax. Ernie gives Mattheo another unsure glance before leaning in the tiniest bit closer to you. You try not to pay attention to how Ernie has been glancing at your legs and how Mattheo tenses up when Ernie starts speaking again. “I was actually wondering if you were available next weekend…?”

Ernie trails off when you don’t show any indication of replying straight away and you snap out of your surprise to say something, but Mattheo beats you to it.

“She’s busy then,” he says coldly, working his jaw. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late. Kindly get lost.”

“Wha- Matt!” you hiss, smacking his chest to which he barely flinches, nor does he look at all apologetic. “Ernie, I-”

“Never mind,” he says quickly, seemingly eager to just leave. “I’ll, er, see you later.”

You stand frozen in shock while Ernie rushes down the corridor and turns the corner, leaving you and Mattheo alone. Turning slowly, you look at him with barely contained anger.

“Why the hell did you do that?” you demand, voice sharp as nails. If it weren’t past curfew and you weren’t in the middle of a school corridor, you would most definitely be yelling. Mattheo stands with his hands in his pockets, clenching his jaw and his silence makes you even angrier. You accepted long ago that you’d never have a chance with him, but now he was getting in the way of you having a chance with anyone. It was completely unfair. “What if I actually wanted to go out with him?!”

Mattheo scowls at this, but his impossibly dark brown eyes flash with a hint of uncertainty. “Did you?”

“What?” you ask, impatient.

“Did you want to go out with him?” he says, voice low and dangerous. He walks forward, towering over you and you refuse to be intimidated so you start walking backward until your back is against the wall. Despite having cornered you, he maintains a fair amount of distance between you, leaving plenty of space if you want to move away. You don’t.

“That’s none of your business,” you say stubbornly, raising your chin and trying your best to keep your voice steady. Mattheo narrows his eyes and reduces the distance between you ever so slightly with another small step. You nervously keep talking. “I can go out with whoever I want.” Another step. “And you can’t just-” One more step. “Matt.” His shoes are flush with your slippers.

“What?” he whispers, tilting his head and looking at you calmly, while you feeling anything but calm. “I can’t just… what?”

The previously respectable distance has gone out the window and instead you barely have space to breathe with the way Mattheo is leaning in, head dipped toward you but never touching, hands resting on the wall either side of you. He leans in, eyes dropping to your lips and your heart leaps in your chest with anticipation, but he ghosts his lips over your jaw instead and the barely-there contact has you breathing unevenly.

“You can’t…” you exhale, trying to finish your sentence with some dignity and failing miserably. “You can’t just scare people off like an overprotective older brother.”

Mattheo stills, lifting his head enough to meet your eyes, but making no move to distance himself any further. He scoffs quietly. “Brother,” he says the word with a mildly disgusted scowl. “Is that what you think I want to be?”

“I- I don’t…”

“You don’t know,” Mattheo finishes for you, the corners of his mouth turning up, yet his expression is devoid of humour. “No, you don’t know how badly I wanted to hex Macmillan just now. How badly I wanted to try out some new, experimental spells on that fucking Ravenclaw earlier. But none of that had anything to do with brotherly feelings.”

“They were just being nice,” you say stupidly, with not a clue in the world as to why you’re defending them right now. If anything, you’re just confused.

Mattheo quirks a brow, tongue pressing against his cheek as he considers your words. “That Ravenclaw from earlier was talking about you on the train. He said he was going to ask you out at dinner because you’d ‘gotten hot’ over summer,” Mattheo sneers, like he’s suddenly regretting not hexing Michael Corner in the Great Hall. “They weren’t being nice.”

All of a sudden, you feel irritated because you have no idea why Mattheo is telling you any of this. “What’s wrong with a boy finding me attractive? Is that such a crazy idea?” you demand, part of you not wanting him to answer.

“Merlin, do I seriously have to say it?” he groans, sighing when you glare at him. Mattheo takes a breath, meeting your eyes and you marvel at the sincerity you see when he speaks. “You didn’t ‘get hot’ over the summer. You’ve always been beautiful and they’re idiots for not paying attention then.”

Your breath catches in your throat, whether it’s from emotion or from the close proximity with Mattheo, you aren’t sure. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Mattheo nods, leaning back in to brush his nose against your own, his breath mingling with yours. “Always have.”

You take this as a cue to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him in and the next thing you know, his mouth is firm against yours, and his hands are finally touching you, grabbing you by the waist and sliding up your back to hold you closer. You’ve thought about kissing Mattheo before, but the thoughts feel utterly stupid compared to the real thing. Mattheo kisses you fiercely, mouth sliding hot and wet against your own making you come alive and weakening you at the same time. He nips at your bottom lip and you gasp, causing him to smile into the kiss. Your hands are sliding up his chest to snake around his neck when a thought suddenly occurs to you and you pull away abruptly.

“Oh my God, Theodore,” you hiss, covering your mouth with your hand. Mattheo furrows his brows, looking a little dazed and confused. “What are we going to tell him?”

“He knows I’ve loved you since we were kids,” Mattheo says flippantly, waving you off and impatiently starting to lean in again, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “What?”

“You’ve loved me since we were kids?” The words hardly register, but before you can feel any sort of elation, you mostly feel pissed off that your brother has clearly had his fun with the situation for years. “And Theo knows?”

“Yes,” Mattheo says slowly, as if he were talking to a child. He brushes the hair out of your face and his gaze turns a little uncertain when he speaks. “Er, this is hopefully the part where you say you feel the same way.”

“Well, of course I feel the same way,” you huff, still thoroughly annoyed at Theo. “He knew I was crazily in love with you too and the bastard was so irritating about it!”

You’re about three quarters of the way down a list of ways you want to get back at your brother when Mattheo gently turns your face by the chin to look at him. “As much as I’d love for you to plot against your brother right now, it’s kind of a mood killer thinking about him when I’m kissing you.”

“Sorry, sorry. Continue with the kissing.”

“How romantic,” he says drily. His smirk turns smug, however, when he processes your previous statement. “So… you were in love with me too. What was the word you used, again? Crazily? Crazily in love…”

“Don’t make me take it back, ‘cause I swear I will.”

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