#mouth and millicent

[tvshowscouples]

If you love Mouth&Millie (OTH) and you want reblog or like,this is the link of my reblog couples :)

thank you!

[mugiwara-lucy]

Such a perfect ending 🥹

Yes Lucas and Peyton should have been here but it was fine with what it had!! 🥹

(Makes me wanna give the reboot a chance!)

[paceypeternathanslawyer]

One Tree Hill Meme (23/24) Favorite Episodes Favorite Episode Per Episode Number

Season 6 Episode 23: Forever And Almost Always

(Real stiff competition this one had lol. No, but it was probably for the best that this was the only 23rd non finale episode because I don't think many episodes could beat this gem of an episode)

[starryeyesxx]

[astro-tag-9]

Hi, could I get a female character request please!! I'm a libra sun(11h) merc(10h) and mars (10h), Taurus moon (5h), Scorpio Venus (11h) and cap ascendant. Thanks in advance :)

💙Millicent Huxtable💙

(One Tree Hill)

[outlawssweetheart]

I was going to agree on the headline, but… "Vacuous, HYPERSEXUALIZED dolls"?? Oh, FUCK OFF! 🙄

[oth-caps]

[obsessedwithceleste]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Mattheo Riddle x Slytherin reader

Prompt 4 of @thatdammchickennugget ‘s hogmarch challenge🫶🏽 and dedicated to this psychic anon request 💕

Summary: I’d kiss you as the lights went out, Swaying as the room burned down, I’d hold you as the water rushes in, If I could dance with you again.

word count: 4k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You watch silently from across the Slytherin common room as yet another girl places her hand flirtatiously on Mattheo’s chest, batting her lashes with that seductive grin you knew all too well from watching all the other girls do it too.

“Go to the dance with me?” Her lips read as she leaned closer to your friend.

You can’t help but smile as Mattheo just rolls his eyes, moving away from the girl, not giving her more than a shake of his head.

The girl’s mouth hangs open in shock of the rejection. Really she should be flattered you thought dryly to yourself. She’d made it significantly further than others you’d witnessed.

Truth was, you’d had a massive crush on Mattheo since you were kids, and watching as he rejected girl after girl was much more entertaining than you cared to admit.

Growing up, you’d always admired his bold brashness, and willingness to say whatever came to mind. The two of you had always gotten into trouble together, bouncing mischievous ideas back and forth. The summer before coming to Hogwarts, your mother had given you a heart shaped locket, and Mattheo had insisted that a photo of the two of you go inside it.

"In case we don't go to the same house." The boy had reasoned.

But of course, he’d never seen you as anything more than a friend, and unfortunately, the cringey, cliche nature of the situation was not lost on you. Even now, as you mindlessly fingered the carefully disillusioned pendant while Mattheo stalked towards your group with an air of agitation.

“Bloody hell I can’t wait for this fucking Yule ball rubbish to be over and done with,” Mattheo states flatly as he sits down lazily on the sofa next to you.

“Just pick a girl to go with then. They’ll leave you alone if they think you have a date. Why do you think I asked Daph so early on?” Theo replies, not bothering to look up from his book.

Daphne whacks him with her textbook.

You watch as Mattheo tilts his head in consideration before his eyes shift over to you, a sly grin forming on his face.

“Don’t even think about,” you say, holding up your hand as if to block out whatever idiocy the boy was about to spew.

Now it’s Mattheo’s turn to open his mouth in shock.

“Wha- you don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“You were going to ask me if I’d go to the dance with you,” you reply dryly. “Honestly Matt, I’m not stupid.”

“Well will you?” He asks, giving you his most charming smile.

“I’m already going with Blaise.” You respond.

Looking back, had it been a bit of a rash decision? Yes. But you had made peace with the fact that Mattheo likely wouldn’t ask you to be his date, and Blaise was one of your best friends. You knew you’d have a good time with him, and all your other friends had been pairing up.

“Tell Blaise to go with Astoria,” Mattheo reasons.

“Toria is already going with Enzo.” Daphne intervenes.

“What about Pansy?”

“She and Millicent got accosted by Crabbe and Goyle last I heard,” Theo replies.

“He can go with Draco then! People already mistake them for gay lovers anyway.”

“Matt, you know Draco is trying to muster up the courage to ask Harry. Don’t be dense.” You reply.

“Oh come on! How do you all have this sorted out already? The ball was only announced yesterday!”

“We organized it at dinner,” Daphne responds, as if the answer was obvious.

“You mean while I was in detention?” Mattheo asks incredulously, only to be met with a chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘mhms’.

You look over as your friend slumps into the sofa in defeat, a wave of slight guilt washing over you.

“Lighten up Matt, you’ve already been asked by a handful of girls today, you’ll be able to find someone to go with easy,” you say.

“Not with anyone who matters,” he grumbles, so low that you almost miss it.

A week had gone by and you were about to lose your mind. You thought that after the initial conversation in the common room, Mattheo would relent and just pick one of his many admirers to take to the ball. You really should’ve known better. You’d known the boy long enough to know that once he had his mind set on something, there was really nothing in the world that could stop him. You just never thought that you would be what he set his mind to.

“Matt, I’ve told you a million times, I’m already going to the ball with Blaise,” you groan, collapsing on your bed as the raven haired boy follows you into your dorm.

“Well lucky for you, I have the perfect plan to steal you away from ole Blaisey boy,” Mattheo says, his signature smirk in place.

You roll your eyes, leaning back on your bed as you wait for him to continue.

“It’s easy. You just have to date me,” Mattheo replies, as if his idea was particularly clever.

You let out a rather unattractive snort as your heart clenches. It felt as though it might pound out of your chest.

“Matt, that has to be the worst idea you’ve ever had. And you’ve had a lot of really bad ideas.”

Though asking the girl that’s fancied him for years to pretend to date him, only for him to snatch it all away again a few weeks later probably had to be one of the cruelest, you thought to yourself.

“Oh c’mon. There’s no way Blaise would be offended if you ditched him if we said we were together. He’s a perfectly reasonable bloke. He’d understand!”

You shake your head once more. There was no way you were pretending to date the boy you had been pining after for this long. It was only going to end in one way. Heart break. And not on his end.

“Bloody hell. What if I can get Luna to go in your place. Will you do it then? We both know he’s been eyeing that loon up for months.”

“Don’t call her a loon Matty.” You tilt your head in consideration however.

If he was willing to actually encourage Blaise’s love life, and be willing to get intermixed within the logistics of it all, he must be desperate. And you had been dying to set the two of them up, you supposed.

But you just couldn’t shake the bad feeling this whole situation gave you. It couldn’t be all that bad though, right? You reasoned. You’d gotten this far without Matt realizing your feelings, a few weeks of bliss surely couldn’t hurt.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll tell Blaise we got together and that I want to go to the ball with you, only if Luna agrees to go with him instead.”

Mattheo immediately brightens at your words, a self satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“Good. Because I already told Blaise that we were together and that I was taking you to the ball,” he says quickly. “Also- considering Blaise is more of a yapper than people give him credit for, the rest of the group definitely already knows.”

Your mouth drops open as you glare at the boy in front of you.

“Matt. What on earth. Did you tell him?” You grit out, praying to Salazar that Blaise hadn’t embarrassed you too much.

Mattheo shrugs. “Just told him that we had been out by the lake on one of our walks and I kissed you. One thing led to another and I asked you out. He seemed to believe it pretty easily actually.”

The boy looked all too calm about making up a whole scenario in which he made out with his best friend for your liking.

You purse your lips, taking a deep sigh. What did you see in this boy?

“Mattheo.”

“Yes love?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Can’t do that love, you wouldn’t kill your boyfriend.”

You continue to glare at the boy, fingers gripping tightly around your wand.

“Easy there, pretty,” Mattheo laughs nervously, slowly edging closer to you with a bashful grin.

“You better have thought this through Riddle. Because I’m telling you right now, that this is a bad idea.”

It was too easy. You know that much clearly. The two of you, you and Mattheo that is, walk silently along the streets of Hogsmeade, your friends surrounding you, shielding you from the brisk winter air. Mattheo's arm is wrapped securely around you, hand tucked into your jacket pocket, your fingers intertwined. It was so warm. So comfortable. So effortless, as if you had spent forever with his hands in your pockets.

Blaise and Daphne had been the only ones to know of your secret feelings towards your best friend, yet not a single one of the others looked particularly shocked when the both of you showed up in the common room wrapped in each others arms one night.

“Bout bloody time,” you’d heard Theo grunt to Draco from across the fireplace.

Daphne of course had been utterly elated for you, and Blaise had made sure you knew that there were no hard feelings about switching dates for the ball. Especially after he had secured one Miss Luna Lovegood as his date with the surprising help of Mattheo.

A warm squeeze of your hand shakes you from your thoughts as your group comes to stop outside of The Three Broomsticks.

“You sure you don’t want to come down to the shops, y/n?” Daphne asks looking back at you as she forges on with Astoria and Millicent.

“Bloody hell, yes! She’ll be fine with me. You can’t have her to yourself all the time!” Pansy says with exasperation, shooing the other girls away and linking her arm through yours on your free side.

The bell above the door rings lightly as the rest of your group enters the warm tavern, Theo and Enzo racing to secure your usual table.

“Hey Matty!” A voice shouts, stopping your trio in your tracks.

You turn to see another booth filled with familiar looking Hogwarts students and recognize one of the girls you’d watch Mattheo reject just a few days ago.

“Come sit with us,” she continues, attempting to wave him over.

Pansy gives the girl a sneer as you walk past, Mattheo not even sparing a glance in their direction.

“Don’t even know the bloody girl’s name,” he mumbles under his breath, causing you to let out a soft chuckle.

“Ey, what’s the hold up?” Theo shouts as you all hurry over to the table.

“Bloody hell. I thought y/n being my girlfriend would finally get those birds to back off,” Mattheo complains as he takes his seat in the booth.

His arm remains wrapped securely around you the entire time, sending warm tingles through you. It’s all an act, you have to remind yourself, pulling yourself out of your head.

Draco snorts at Mattheo’s grumbling.

“Half the school already thought you two were dating. Didn’t stop em then, so I don’t see why it’d stop them now.” He says matter of factly as the rest of the group nods in agreement.

“You lot are so dramatic. No one thought we were dating,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at your friends.

Their eyes flicker awkwardly back and forth between the lot of them. “Right.” Pansy says finally, bringing an end to the silence.

You glare pointedly at the girl.

“I’m going to the loo. Order me a butter beer Matty?” You say, standing up abruptly.

“I’ll come,” Pansy says quickly, going to rise as well.

“It’s fine Pans. I’m a big girl. Promise not to get attacked by a troll or nothin,” you say with a smile.

Mattheo opens his mouth to protest before closing it again and giving your hand a tight squeeze.

You make your way through the maze of tables, finally making it to the ladies room. Making a beeline to the sink, you take a breath, letting cool water splash against your face.

Salazar, you needed to get a grip. But everything about being with Mattheo felt so real. So natural. Which just meant it would feel all the more real when things ended. You take another moment to gather yourself, dabbing any remaining bits of water from your face. As your hand falls on the door handle to make your way back however, loud voices fill the hall.

“I don’t know what he sees in her,” a voice practically snarls. You can practically feel the malice, dripping from their lips.

“So it’s true then? Mattheo is taking that girl to the ball?” Another voice asks.

“I heard they’re dating.”

“They weren’t already?”

“I wonder if he’s taking her out of pity.”

A chorus of voices all say at once.

You immediately bristle, realizing they were talking about you.

“I hear she was the only one in their group who didn’t have a date and she practically forced him to take her.”

“I thought she was going with Blaise.”

Bloody hell. Where did they get all of this information?

“Whatever. It’s not like it matters either way. There’s no way they last. She’s a mess, and Mattheo has never been able to settle has he? It’s only a matter of time.”

You feel a deep frown form at the harsh words, but before you’re able to react, the bathroom door is pushed open and you’re face to face with the group of girls from before. The girl you had recognized as Mattheo’s reject smirks as she eyes you up and down before simply pushing past you. The rest of the girls follow, leaving you to wander back to your friends.

When you sit down again, Mattheo has a warm drink already waiting, and you let out a small smile as you cozy up next to the boy. No matter how hard you try to distract yourself however, the words of the girl’s echo through your mind.

Later that evening, you lay comfortably in bed with your head resting gently on Mattheo’s chest, hypnotized by the slow rise and fall. You hadn’t seen your roommates all day, and doubted they would be back if they weren’t there by now.

You lived for nights like these when Mattheo would bow out of whatever mischief Theo and Enzo had cooked up, and instead spend the evening holed up with you cuddling, talking, or getting into your own trouble. Your room had become a safe haven. A sacred oasis of sorts for the both of you to unwind, safe from the outside world.

“You were awfully quiet today at The Broomsticks.” Mattheo says, breaking the silence.

You only hum in response.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“How are we going to break up?” You ask, rather abruptly, as you look up at your best friend.

Mattheo looks surprised at the question.

“I don’t know. Didn’t really think I’d get this far in my scheming to be quite honest. I suppose I figured we’d just say that we figured we’d be better off as friends, or something of the sort. You can blame the split on me though if you’d like.” He replies.

You move your head to look down once more, picking at the blankets.

“No, no. The friends thing is fine. When should we do it?”

“Trying to get rid of me already, love?” Mattheo asks with a laugh.

“I just want to know what to expect.” You say quietly, causing Mattheo to grow quiet as well.

“Alright. Then how about a few days after the ball? We say that the dance made us realize we were better off as friends, and everything goes back to the way it was.” He says finally.

You feel your heart crack at his words.

“Yeah. Exactly like how it was.” You repeat.

Smoothing your dress out one final time, you turn around to hear Daphne gasp.

“Oh that’s stunning,” she gushes, her own deep blue gown cascading elegantly around her in waves of silk.

You’d spent the last several hours or so in her and Pansy’s shared dorm getting ready for the ball with the other girls, though where Pansy had wandered off to you had no idea.

All you knew, was that you were bloody nervous. You didn’t think you would be. It was just like any other night you reasoned. You and Mattheo were with each other constantly. What difference did a pretty dress make?

“I think the boys are ready for us whenever we are. Toria, come get these shoes,” Daphne shouts.

Astoria really did look like a princess you think to yourself, her soft yellow gown billowing gently with every movement.

“Ready to go down?” She asks, seeming to float over.

“As I’ll ever be,” you respond with a nervous smile.

Giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Astoria slips on her shoes before making her way down to the common room, you and Daphne following close behind.

The boys are already congregated by the fireplace; their loud chattering could be heard across the room, but as soon as Theo’s eyes meet Daphne’s he freezes and the rest of the boys quiet down, noticing the shift.

Your eyes lock onto Mattheo’s and you slowly make your way over, nervously picking at your skirt with trembling fingers.

“Beautiful as always, y/n,” he says, smiling down at you when you finally reach him. Gently, he raises your hand to his lips, barely grazing over your shaking fingertips before looking back at you with his signature smirk.

“Where’s Draco?” You ask, not quite able to stomachs the intensity of his gaze.

“Had to be there early. Something about the champions and their dates having the first dance or something,” he replies easily, his hand finding its ever familiar place on your waist.

“Oh we are not missing that,” you say, your nerves quickly being replaced with excitement.

Mattheo grins back. “I knew we’d be on the same page,” he responds, tugging you towards the doors.

Together, the both of you rush to the main hall just in time to see Harry and Draco getting herded into a lineup of the champions to be paraded into the Great Hall.

“I certainly hope he took Snape’s dance lessons to heart,” you giggle.

It doesn’t take much longer for the rest of your group to join the both of you and soon enough you find yourselves following the flood of students into the newly decorated Great Hall.

It really was spectacular. The house elves clearly had spared no expense with thick, green trees covered in tinsel and ornaments lining the walls. Floating candles cast a warm glow about the room and the floor had the appearance of being covered in freshly fallen snow.

You watch, hiding a laugh, as Draco and Harry move awkwardly around the dance floor, almost colliding with Cedric and Cho on more than one occasion. Salazar help them.

Slowly, other couples begin to join the champions on the dance floor, swirling together in a sea of shimmering color.

“May I have this dance m’lady?” Mattheo asks with a lopsided grin.

Before you even have the chance to respond however, Mattheo is pulling you onto the dance floor, a look of pure delight across his face. There were very few times you remembered him looking this happy, and it melted your heart.

As the night progressed, Mattheo refused to leave your side, his hand rarely leaving your waist. Really, you hardly left the dance floor either. The few times you were able to escape with Daphne or Pansy to the punch bowl, Mattheo tracked you down shortly after, pulling you right back into his arms.

To say that you were in heaven was an understatement. You had spent hours daydreaming about what it might be like to have Mattheo’s hard-won affection to yourself. And now that you had it, you were practically floating. Which just made it all the more heart wrenching as you anticipated the inevitable. It was as if every move you made, every dance the two of you shared, was done with your hands tied.

People really weren’t going to believe your break up if he continued on like this, you’d thought at some point. But you couldn’t quite bring yourself to tell him to back off, especially as it grew later. Your time with him was fleeting after all.

“Bloody hell, Matt. Give the girl some breathing room,” Pansy exclaims after Mattheo had sought you out for the third time.

Mattheo just gives her a guilty grin before spinning you out onto the dance floor once more.

“I didn’t realize you liked dancing this much Matty,” you tease as the two of you away slowly on the floor.

“Oh I don’t. Just making sure I take full advantage of the night,” he replies, looking intently down at you.

You cock you head to the side.

“With you as my girl, I mean,” he adds. And before you’re able to put together another cohesive thought, his lips are on yours. In the middle of the dance floor.

Immediately it feels as though the lights had gone out, leaving the two of you alone in the room as you let your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the softness of Mattheo’s lips on yours. They move slowly at first. Carefully. Before quickly growing hungrier, more determined.

You barely register Mattheo’s fingers digging into you as he pulls you closer, and find yourself lost in the gentle sway as everything around you burns to the ground, leaving behind a fire growing steadily in your chest.

And just like that, you’re back in Mattheo’s arms as the water comes rushing in, jerking you back to reality. You stand frozen staring up at Mattheo as couples continue to move around you.

Had that really just happened?

“Um- fresh air. I think.” You stutter out, all but dragging the boy from the dance floor, praying no one had seen or noticed.

Mattheo wordlessly allows you to lead him out to the courtyard entrance before you all but collapse on one of the stone benches, still in shock.

“Please don’t avada me! I didn’t think that through entirely.”

“I don’t want to break up.” You say in unison.

“What was that?” Mattheo asks in surprise.

“No- hold on. Why in Salazar’s green bed sheets would I want to avada you?” You ask incredulously.

“More importantly, you don’t want to fake breakup?” Mattheo asks with a grin.

“Of course I don’t want to break up! I’ve fancied you for years!” You blurt out, slapping a hand over your mouth as soon as the words escape.

Mattheo looks at you with shock.

“No. I’ve fancied you for years. Why else do you think I refused to take anyone else to the ball?”

“Because you’re a stubborn arse,” you retort, barely processing the boy’s words.

He liked you?

The two of you stare at each other for another moment, still not fully believing the other as your minds race to put the pieces together.

It’s Mattheo who acts first, surging to connect your lips once more in a heated frenzy. It’s addicting really, the feeling of his soft lips against yours. The pull as he brings your bodies closer together. The warmth you can feel radiating off of him.

When you finally pull away this time, Mattheo’s eyes are shining down at you with that familiar intense gaze.

“We’re a pair of oblivious idiots, aren’t we?” You mumble, leaning into the boy.

“Well, you are. I haven’t exactly been subtle.” Mattheo replies with a snort, hugging you to his chest.

“Don’t be a twat. You’ve had girls fawning over you for years. What was I supposed to make of that?”

“I never looked payed them any mind, love. Think of it this way. I’ll just have years to make up for tonight,” he says with a cheeky smile.

You feel a familiar heat begin to rise in you once more as Mattheo takes hold of your arm, leading the way back to the dungeons.

“Oh I’ll hold you to that,” you reply, a mischievous smile making its way to your face.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less of you, love.”

[cherryslyce]

Amalfi Coast | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The end of your years at Hogwarts brings about stirring changes: the unveiling of your betrothal to Theodore Nott and an all-expense getaway to Italy for alone time with your husband-to-be.

PAIRING: Theodore Nott x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT + NOTES: 4.5k. I am so weak for Theodore.

The shards of glimmering light that dance across the soft peaks of water distances away seem to speak to you as you drift into your thoughts. Crowded between cliff-hanging abodes and the frothing shore, you’ve never felt so insignificant until that moment. 

Your hand absentmindedly brushes against the fine grains of sand below you, the microscopic beads emanating a pleasant warmth against your palm. You hear a soft thud from beside you just as a comforting presence graces you, the uncomfortable stir of disorientation washing away with the drag of the waves. 

“The unit should be prepped soon. We can grab some food after Mitzy brings over our luggage.” Theodore’s smooth voice hums out, eyes clambering to drink in the sight of the sea as well. 

You smile softly at the mention of the boy’s house-elf, remembering how she had been keen to help you pack for the trip. Nodding, you unconsciously shift closer to the boy as you glance at him, “Sounds like a plan.” 

Theodore looks completely serene much to your confusion. A large part of you was grateful that Theodore was chosen to be your betrothed, but another chunk of your heart twinged painfully at the thought. It was no secret that Nott Sr. was a strict man, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a web of thoughts about how Theodore was likely forced into being with you. 

It had only been a few months since you both graduated from Hogwarts, but you distinctly recall how close Theodore was to Millicent Bulstrode. Your brain sifted through your memories of the girl, remembering her calculative eyes and pin-straight posture. 

You just hoped the girl wouldn’t hex you for swooping in and stealing her boyfriend. 

You and Theodore weren’t exactly close friends, but you both sought out each other’s company during exam season, enjoying the comfortable routine of silence that you both fell into during those days. Outside of the library, interactions with the boy dwindled into nods and occasional smiles. Despite the distance between you both during school, you held onto hope that your familiarity with one another would serve as a stepping stone towards a smooth relationship. 

Conversation with Theodore is sparse for the hours that follow, the both of you mulling over thoughts of pleasantries and faltering topics of chatter. The fervid wind settles the farther you trek from the shoreline, now teetering past assortments of clustered buildings, all mottled with bright colors. 

Your wand presses stiffly against your side as you tuck it into the waistband of your bottoms, concealing it from view as you both approach a swarm of people. Theodore keeps beside you, donning black sunglasses that keeps his searching gaze hidden as you both bask in the foreign environment. 

It was lively and bright, the antithesis to the perpetual gloom and blisters of humming that was encroached in every stone of Britain. White verandas and endless shrubbery adorned the collection of shops around you, catching your eyes every so often. 

“Here we are.” Theodore mutters, throwing you a small smile as your mouth drops into a vague o-shape. 

The restaurant is stretched open with white beams of wood streaming upward to a flat wooden ceiling, the entirety of the seating area is squared away by the side banisters instead of proper walls, letting in the cool wind and seaside view. Theodore steps forward to speak with the hostess, hand lifting up to tug off his sunglasses as a blanket of shade envelopes you both. 

You’re entranced by Theodore’s rapid-fire speaking, wondering if he had chosen Italian for his language lessons in order to strengthen his friendship with Blaise. With Theodore’s fluency and the restaurant’s expansive array of tables, you’re both seated in a matter of minutes. 

The speckless table cloth drapes past your legs like a waterfall, effectively providing a shield against the breeze as you take your spot across from Theodore. The boy plucks his menu up and shoots you an indecipherable look from above the booklet as you remain motionless, seeing as your elementary understanding of Italian begins and ends at Ciao and Grazie.

Theodore’s lips flicker up momentarily before he lays his menu down and shuffles it over to you, “Do you want pasta? Or salad? They also have pizza, if you prefer that.” 

Your lips split into a small smile of relief, a warmth blossoming in your chest as the stiff atmosphere around you both seems to wash away. Theodore reads off of the entire menu for you, eyes occasionally shifting to your concentrated face as you pedal between a few options.

When you finally decide on a dish, Theodore offers you a light hum and shining eyes, paralyzing you for a few moments. Perhaps, and to your relief, your relationship could work out after all. You just needed to clear the air between you both first. 

The meal continues on without a hitch, but you have to make a conscious effort to not stare at the boy in front of you when the sun begins to sink behind the basin of sea water. 

The swirls of orange and pink of the sky illuminate his sharp features, complementing his already striking complexion. A tamed buzzing of conversation wafts through the air, spurring you to word-vomit the thoughts that were plaguing you since your first joint dinner with Theodore and his father weeks before. 

“I’m sorry,” You begin, looking away from Theodore when he meets your gaze with furrowed eyebrows, “about our marriage.” 

Silence ensues after your vague words, and when you finally work up the courage to glance back at Theodore, confusion settles into the etches of your mind as you see his frown and penitent gaze. You had expected false platitudes of reassurance, or bitter resignation—hell, maybe anger—but certainly not the look he was giving you right now. 

Clearing your throat, you sit up and lean forward, “I mean, I know that you would rather not be betrothed to me, so I’m sorry. My parents are quite lenient people, so I should have fought against it since I know your heart belongs to someone else already.” 

“What?” Theodore wheezes out, reeling back to process your words. 

Feeling heat creep up your neck, you falter back with quiet words, “Maybe, if I had refused vehemently, my parents could have convinced your father to not force you. I just wanted to apologize because I don’t want any lingering awkwardness or expectations for each other.”

Before Theodore can respond, your waiter paces over, giving you a polite smile before turning to address Theodore. The boy in front of you distractedly answers the waiter, eyes flickering back to your rigid figure amidst his words. 

Once the waiter parts from your tableside, leaving behind a quaint black tray for your sum, Theodore seems to fall into a silent daze as he robotically composes himself and leaves the money on the tray. When he pushes his chair back, you follow suit, ready to play catch up if he swept away and down into the streets without you. 

To your muted surprise, Theodore stops by your side and holds out his hand for you to take. Hesitantly clasping his calloused hand in yours, you are only able to await his words with bated breath, distracting yourself by focusing on the feeling of his rings against your fingers. 

Theodore leads you yards away from the restaurant, only falling to a halt once you both reach a secluded area beside a blocked-off cliffside. The sound of crashing waves tangles into the air as Theodore’s eyes run around your face for a few moments. 

“Do you want to call this off?” Theodore whispers, eyes steely with resolution as his other hand moves to lightly grip your arm. 

You gape at his blunt words, swallowing thickly as your gaze falls to the ground, “If that’s what you want.” 

“But what do you want?” He mumbles, stepping closer to you as another chilly gust of wind flies around your unguarded figures. 

Peering back up to him, you frown before divulging, “I don’t want to call it off.” 

“Good. Me neither.” Theodore nods, eyes softening at your honesty. 

“But what about Millicent?” You mutter, head tilting with visible perplexion. The poignant reminder of her existence evokes a storm of doubts in your veins, and your head starts spinning with the culmination of the day’s events. 

Theodore cranes his head back to assess you as he plainly responds, “What about her?” 

This time, it’s your turn to survey his confused face with a mirrored look, “What? She’s your girlfriend? I can’t in good conscience do that to someone, arranged or not.” 

Theodore’s mouth parts as he stares at you, and for a moment you’re disconcerted by the thought that he perhaps only just remembered her, but then, the most remarkable thing happens—Theodore starts to chuckle. His shoulders quake faintly with every muffled sound, and after a few moments, he throws his head back to let it out toward the darkening sky. 

Before you have a moment to question the boy’s sanity, he turns back to you with a wide grin, “Is that what you were talking about earlier? You caught me from left field. I was worried that you were displeased because your heart belonged to someone already.” 

Seeing your inquiring eyes, he shuffles closer and shakes his head, “I’m not dating Millicent, silly one. Where’d you get that grand idea from?”

“You guys were always together, and all the rumors–” Your words come out borderline defensive, neck blazing from embarrassment. 

Theodore huffs and squeezes your arm, softly cutting you off from your spiel, “Just rumors. I wouldn’t have agreed to any sort of arrangement if I was with someone else, my father knows that much.” 

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” You nod, scratching at your neck to dispel the humiliation that would live on in your head until your last moments on Earth. 

“Silly.” Theodore hums, letting go of your arm to tap at your forehead, “Let’s head to our place before we freeze, yeah?” 

Your rental unit was quite spacious to your surprise, and you were almost too enraptured with touching every inch of furniture to notice that there was only one bed in the entire space. Almost. 

Theodore is cognizant of the same dilemma, clicking his tongue dryly as he murmurs quietly under his breath. 

“I can take the floor.” You speak up almost zealously, easily masking how the prospect of waking with a sore back was killing you on the inside. Theodore and you had barely started building a thin understanding for your relationship, and you’d be damned if a single bed would stir up tension again. 

Theodore swivels to look at you, “No need, we can share the bed. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll take the floor.” His voice leaves little room for argument, and he runs a hand through his locks as he nods reassuringly at you. You’re touched by his consideration and understanding, glad that you weren’t in such a position with someone like Crabbe or Goyle, both of whom would likely grunt inaudibly and leave you to your ministrations. 

“Let’s share, then.” You concede, heart thrumming fervently in your chest. 

Theodore smiles softly at you and beckons you closer as he sits down on the bed, hand reaching out for you as you slowly tread forward. When you gently place your hand in his, he gives a faint tug, eyes darting down to the empty spot beside him. 

Once you’re snug on the plush mattress, you turn to him with a wry grin, “We’ve skipped pretty much every single conventional step to get here. From study partners to life partners.” 

“I suppose you’re right,” the corner of his mouth slants up, “from barely knowing my name to taking my surname, hm? Quite unorthodox.” 

Shaking your head, you flop back onto the bed, keenly aware of how Theodore tightens his hold on your hand as it begins to slip away. Peering up at him, you raise an eyebrow, “Who said I’m taking your last name, Nott? You’re taking mine.” 

“Hyphenating, it is.” He murmurs as his eyes trail toward the balcony ways off across the room. 

You chuckle and stare into the abyss of the dim ceiling, “Any excuse to have a ridiculously extensive name.” 

“Never as ridiculous as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” He muses, slowly lowering himself to lay beside you. 

A few tantalizing beats pass before your jumbled mind seems to take away any semblance of restraint from your mouth, “I never thought it would be you, to be frank.” 

“Yeah?” Theodore hums, head now turned towards you. 

Nodding, you run your free hand along the edge of the bed as you continue, “My parents had been considering Crabbe for a while. I mean, they know nothing about him, but I can just imagine how that dinner would have gone once they realized just who they were shipping me off to.” 

Theodore continues to study you, hand squeezing yours again before he mumbles, “I knew it’d be you.” 

Snapping your head to the side, your eyes widen at his hooded gaze, “Really?” 

“My father knew it too. That I wouldn’t have anyone but you.” His admission knocks the wind from your lungs, and you almost want to throttle yourself off the bed to ensure that you weren’t dreaming. 

“Yeah?” You ask dumbly, heart stuttering against your ribs. 

Theodore shifts to lean on his elbow, bringing his face closer to yours as he whispers, “Want to know a secret?” 

All you can do is nod, trying to blink away the dizziness coiling around your head from the close proximity. 

He hums and slowly retracts his hand, bringing a finger to trail the bedding beside your shoulder, “I was the one to ask your parents for permission to court you. Now, I’m going to wash up first, I promise I won’t be long.” 

Without a hitch, Theodore swiftly clambers off of the bed, leaving the mattress to gently recoil against your back as it expands to its original form. You’re only able to grapple for a coherent thought once the bathroom door shuts with a click, barring you from staring at Theodore in wonder. 

Once you hear the stream of the shower head emit from the bathroom, you slowly prop yourself up and trudge towards the balcony, swinging the glass doors open and allowing the whistling wind to zip through the newly exposed aperture. The biting breeze nips at your cheeks as you stare into the sky, surveying all the twinkling stars as you recount the day’s events. 

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re going to say to Theodore, or if you’re even going to be able to look him in the eyes once he emerges from the bathroom, but you supposed that the turn of events unfolded more pleasantly than you could have hoped.

The distant clamoring of partygoers ways away from the balcony lulls you into a loop of idle daydreams, and you aren’t sure how many minutes have passed since Theodore’s departure from your side, but the whirlwind of your elusive thoughts dissipates when a warm hand grazes your arm. 

“You alright? I’ve been calling your name for a bit now.” Theodore mumbles, eyes glazed with worry as he searches your blank expression. 

Blinking slowly, you nod and offer a faint smile, “Fine, just lost in my thoughts.” 

“It’s a bit chilly out here,” He glances to his right, evidently hearing the faint pulsing of music as well, “why don’t we head in?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling at him, “I’ll try not to wake you when I get out of the shower.” 

As you make your way to weave around the boy, body feeling weightless despite the fatigue drenching your muscles, you can feel his eyes following you until you’re swallowed by the shadows of the room. 

The numbing balm of the night’s wind melts away from your face as you peer up into the shower head. The swath of steam that swirls around your body, cloaking the mirrors and walls, seems to inhibit the taunts of your overactive brain. 

Your getaway would continue for another week before you’d begin wedding arrangements, already feeling the splintering headache emerging at the thought of sitting down and picking between a plethora of cloth samples. Unions between pureblood families were a big deal for the elite circle of families as the event would serve as the perfect opportunity for pretense and business transactions between different houses. 

When you crack the bathroom door open with a muffled pop, dismissing the rush of steam that flees hurriedly into the cool room, you vaguely make out the figure of Theodore propped up against the headboard. The hues of moonlight peek through the bare panes of your window, curtains swept aside, faintly illuminating the silhouette of the furniture. 

“Still up?” You whisper, padding over to delicately arrange yourself beside the boy. 

As you shuffle under the plush covers, dragging the edges under your arms, you turn to peer at Theodore’s profile, watching as his throat bobs down as he slowly turns to you. 

“Didn’t want to sleep without you.” He mutters, slowly sinking to lay down beside you. 

You suppress the tender smile threatening to peel across your face and nod, “I see. You’re not a restless sleeper, are you?”

“Are you?” He quietly intones, voice growing fainter as sleep begins to grip at his consciousness. 

“No, I’m not.” You hum, resisting the urge to sweep your fingers forward in search of his, “Goodnight, Theodore.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You both fall asleep facing one another, inches apart as the glow of the moonlight chases away the gulfs of darkness that slink in the corners of your room. It is in this position that your slumber is torn away from you mere hours later, moonlight now dispersing into small shards that nearly blend away against the white covers. 

The foggy film that clouds your senses and sight reel away as you hear a small grunt from beside you followed by incessant shifting. Blinking away your drowsiness, you slowly shift up to survey Theodore, slowly comprehending his distress. 

Theodore huffs out, a muffled groan blooming into the quiet atmosphere around you. Carefully reaching over, you shake the boy’s arm, eyebrows furrowing when he simply shifts again. 

“Theodore, hey,” You feebly call out, shaking his arm more frantically as he remains trapped in the desolate rapids of unconsciousness. 

Leaning down you bring your other hand to softly pat his cheek, you wait with bated breath as his ministrations quell before ceasing entirely. Eyes now accustomed to the veil of midnight darkness, you see his eyes slowly blink open, a light sigh escaping his lips as he begins to claw back into reality. 

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” You softly murmur, bringing your fingers up to gently card back his waves, any semblance of fatigue evaporating from your bones as you focus on comforting the boy. 

Theodore brings his hand up to yours, eyes beginning to sluggishly droop again, “Y/N?” 

“Hm?” You hum out, readjusting your position as sickly soreness jolts up your arm. 

“I guess I am a restless sleeper.” He mumbles, nudging against his pillow before he emits another sigh. His voice rumbles lethargically, and you sense that he is about to slip away into slumber again when he tightens his hold on your hand. 

“Hm. What’s up?” You whisper, moving to lay down as well. 

Theodore is silent for a few seconds before he tersely whispers back, voice nearly drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears, “Can I hold you?” 

You shift closer to the cocoon of warmth batting off of him, steadily bringing your arm to wrap around him, “Of course.” 

Theodore wraps his arms around you and drags you towards him, a content hum buzzing from his throat as he tucks you under his chin. For the few grand moments that pass afterward, you are left to contemplate the consequences your position would entail for when the sun rose, and you fervently hoped that no awkwardness would ensue. 

Your close proximity to Theodore allows you to hear the faint thumping of his heartbeat, now undeviating in its rhythm. Bringing your free hand forward, you tuck it in the nestle of warmth between your bodies, trying to conjure inklings of sleep as a dense pressure burrowed itself in your eyes. 

The lull of concentration fades into blind navigation in the crevices of your mind, and when your pulsing thoughts dwindle to incomprehensible echoes, slumber greets you once again.

When your mind blisters into stark clarity, it is with recognition of the orange hues flashing in your vision and the traces of aimless lines on your back. Your body instinctively pines for the cushion of bliss that mutely calls for you: a mixture of aftershave and pear. 

For a few moments, it is completely tranquil. Until you realize that your pillow had a heartbeat. 

The revelation is enough to jumpstart the discombobulated wires of your brain. Your eyes crack open to greet the rays of light that crowd your vision, an unpleasant stinging causing you to squint as you huff out. 

“Good morning.” Theodore’s voice is gravelly, barely above a whisper. 

“Hi Theodore.” You mumble out, remaining motionless against him. 

His chest vaguely rumbles and you feel him splay one his hands against your back, “Theo. Only my father and Blaise call me Theodore.” 

“Blaise?” You tiredly repeat, cheek squishing against his shirt. 

“At his insistence, honestly. He thinks it’s fun.” Theodore hums, and that reminder has your hazy brain blinking with a sudden memory. 

“Wait. Theodora, right?” You raise your head up, a wide grin plastered on your face as you remember the one night when Blaise dragged him away from your study routine using that nickname. 

Theodore blinks before he groans into the air, bringing one of his arms up to throw over his eyes as he grumbles, “Merlin, I was hoping you’d forget or even mishear that.”  

“Oh, I almost did, but Blaise’s ruckus was far more interesting than a Potions essay.” Theodore hums tiredly at the mention, and his reaction only spurs you on, “So, does he make it a habit to say Theodora, or is Dora better?” You say cheekily, shrugging innocently when Theodore peers down at you with a playful glare. 

“Enough about Blaise,” Theodore mumbles, poking your ribs with his fingers as he maneuvers to sit up, dragging you to lean into his side as he did so, “I have something planned for today.” 

“You’re being frighteningly vague, should I be worried?” You hum, muffling a low yawn. 

Theodore shakes his head and dryly huffs , “Actually, I was planning on testing a few levitating charms on you.” His fingers dance lightly against your back as his voice drops into a feathery tone, “Have some faith in me.” 

“I trust you.” You murmur, exhaling through your nose in amusement before you grow serious, “Anyway, did you sleep okay?” 

Theodore doesn’t answer you, and you slowly raise your eyes to meet his face in confusion, “Theo?” 

“Hm?” He hums distractedly, face craning closer to yours as he seems to almost stare through you. 

Your heart collapses into the void of your ribcage for a split second before it begins to thrust violently against your chest, spurring a sea of warmth up your neck and ears. Theodore’s eyes flicker across your face as his hands begin to absentmindedly draw patterns against your sides. 

You aren’t sure you’re breathing properly. Or at all. 

One of his hands trails up to your arm, sliding to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder as he muses, “Before we get up and go on about our day, I have something for you.” 

Your eyebrows wrinkle at his words, eyes not straying away from his unwavering gaze. This time, it’s you who gives a small hum, patiently waiting for his next words. 

“Just a small gift,” He whispers, slowly slotting his other hand on the small of your back, “It’s been a long time coming, really.” 

His eyes drop down to your lips and that’s all you really need before you’re leaning towards him with anticipation, hands steadying themselves on his chest. Theodore’s lips part and he gazes at you for confirmation, jaw clenching imperceptibly as words become lost between you both. 

When you remain resolute, he swiftly connects his lips to yours, mouth moving feverishly against yours. His hands press against your body, keeping you grounded as he begins to lean over you, lips never ceasing in their frenzied dance against yours. 

Grasping the sides of his neck, you tug him impossibly closer to you as he hovers over you, one of his hands moving to run soothingly along your waist. 

A few more heated moments pass before the tug for air becomes too great to ignore, causing you to break away from him, head tilting to the side as your lungs tinge with a faint tightness. Theodore grunts at your escape, chasing after you as he tries to satiate his desire, only opting to leave heavy kisses against your cheek and jaw when you tap his neck. 

Closing your eyes, you bring your fingers to card through his hair as you attempt to halt the dizzying stars spinning across your eyelids. Amidst your fruitless efforts, a sudden tug has your eyes flying open, a bemused hum echoing through the air once you realize Theodore is guiding you to sit up. 

He remains silent as he glides down from the side of the bed, hand drifting to lace with yours as he pulls you to sit at the edge of the mattress. Reaching towards the bottom drawer of the white dresser, Theodore only briefly glances away as he fishes out a small velvet box. 

“Theo?” You mumble, eyes widening as he drops down on both of his knees. 

“Ring.” He answers quietly, deftly opening the box and pulling out a thin silver band. 

He drops kisses to your knees as he gazes up towards you, bringing one of his hands forward in muted questioning. Smiling softly, you place your left hand in his outstretched one, holding your breath when he slips the ring onto your ring finger with ease. 

His hand continues to hold yours, thumb rubbing against your skin as he stares at the band. 

“Thank you.” He finally says, lifting his face up to survey yours, his position leaving him at your complete mercy. 

Your hands instinctively reach out to cup his face, bringing him in for another kiss as a newfound contentment curls into your chest. Theodore remains on his knees as he leans forwards, hands chancing a light slide against your hips as he reciprocates your affection.  

“Fuck, how mad do you think everyone will be if we just eloped?” He grunts out before diving forward again to meet your lips. 

Pulling back with a small laugh, you shake your head, “My parents would have your head.” 

“I’m willing to pay that price, love.” He grins against your lips, nose nudging against yours. 

Patting his cheek, you narrow your eyes playfully, “Well I’m not, so behave.” 

“Yes, dear.”

masterlist

[tvshowscouples]

If you love Mouth&Millie (OTH) and you want reblog or like,this is the link of my reblog couples :)

thank you!

[mugiwara-lucy]

Brooke really would kidnap Haley’s baby 😂

And Brooke WOULD be a superstar who is PERFECT for camera!! 😤

And I can listen to Bethany Joy Lenz (Haley) sing all day!! 🥰

[paceypeternathanslawyer]

One Tree Hill Meme (9/24) Favorite Episodes Favorite Episode Per Episode Number

Season 1 Episode 9: With Arms Outstretched

Season 2 Episode 9: The Trick Is To Keep Breathing

Season 3 Episode 9: How A Resurrection Really Feels

Season 4 Episode 9: Some You Give Away

Season 5 Episode 9: For Tonight You're Only Here To Know

Season 6 Episode 9: Sympathy For The Devil

Season 7 Episode 9: Now You Lift Your Eyes To The Sun

Season 8 Episode 9: Between Raising Hell And Amazing Grace

Season 9 Episode 9: Every Breath Is A Bomb

[starryeyesxx]

[thefallennightmare]

Just For Tonight: Part Two- coming 7/30

By popular demand, Part Two of Just For Tonight will be posted on 7/30! Unsure what time, currently working on the outline but I have off and plan to bust it out. It won't be long by any means, but it will bring a lot of closure to Part One!

Tags are open if anyone is interested!

SMUT TEASER BELOW THE CUT!

"Oh Nicky," I moaned while arching my back off of the cool marble of the kitchen counter.

His words were muffled as he continued to lap up at my pussy, devouring me all to himself. It was as if something was driving him to pleasure me in ways he'd never reached before. Although, I knew there was no need for him to be in this competition with himself. It was futile because he knew my body like a book he'd been studying for years.

His teeth grazed over my clit before his lips wrapped around it, sucking eagerly. His fingers worked in and out of my walls, fucking me closer to the edge I'd been hanging off of all day. Ever since this morning in the backyard with Noah.

You can' think of him right now. Think of your boyfriend, Nicholas.

"That's it baby, cum for me. Soak my face," he demanded with a sharp bit to the inside of my thigh, slipping a third finger inside of me.

His thumb rubbed erratic circles on my clit and my body felt frozen, unable to drop off the ledge. My orgasm was right there, so close I could smell my arousal dripping down my legs right before Nicholas' warm tongue licked it up. I raked my nails through his hair, grasping onto the long locks to bring his face closer to my clit.

"'M so close. Don't stop."

Nicholas grunted, mouth now too busy for words. Yet, my attention was no longer on him but on the man standing in the doorway, shirtless with water dripping down his tattooed chest. He'd just stepped out of the shower and the towel was hung low on his hips, the sunset from the large kitchen windows casting over his hard V line. Noah made no noise, simply watched with black eyes as Nicholas' tongue and fingers took turns fucking me.

Noah wasn't supposed to be here; not after what happened earlier.

My head was rolled to the side, half-lidded eyes watching as he dropped the towel to the floor so he could wrap his hand around his thick cock, stroking it slowly; up and down, his thumb smearing the beads of precum around the tip, almost using it as lubricant.

The sight of Noah jerking off to Nicholas who was eating me out like a man starved was exactly what I needed to finally jump off the cliff edge, my orgasm wrapping its arms around me to carry me to blissful euphoria.

TAGS: @madomens @xxkittenkissesxx @darling-millicent-aubrey @heyyoplayer @myownthoughts12 @shilohrosechicken @blueskylinesx @sorrowsofsilence @lma1986 @xmads-omensx @ourdiabolikal-rapture @rain-down-on-me @livingdeceasedgirl @bngurngheart @sprokat @chewyylynn @crimesscene @punkrockpixie @somebodyllelse

[bweeeb]

JEALOUS

Part one

Theodore Nott x Y/n Millicent reader x Mattheo Riddle

Friends to lovers

Summary: When S/n is pressured into acting out a scene with Matheo during a truth or dare game at her birthday party, Teodoro ends up having sex with the person who hurt his best friend, Anastácia Conde.

Warnings: Mention of sex, anguish, intense drama, cigarette use, communication difficulties, jealousy expressed through poor choices.

This may be pure drama on both sides, but I hope you enjoy it

Being someone who held onto grudges was never Y/n Millicent's thing, in general, the Millicent family never kept grudges. Y/n's mother always said that resentment would cause wrinkles on her forehead, and the wrinkles would drive clients away. So, they always resolved things before any trace of hatred could linger. Believe me, no one liked having grudges with the Millicents because when they held a grudge, you would be unlucky until the end of the next generation.

In her fourth year, Y/n dismissed the wrinkles and consequences, harboring the deepest possible resentment in her heart against Anastasia Conde.

— Why do you even want to invite her? I don't see any benefit in her coming tonight. Daphne crossed her arms irritably, exasperated by the boys' idea.

— My parents have become friends with hers...

— Since when do your parents tolerate Gryffindors? Mattheo asked.

— Her father was in Slytherin and was even friends with your father. Draco replied, causing an immediate scowl on Riddle's face.

— They want me to try to integrate her into Slytherin. But I don't know, man. Anastasia seemed pretty normal when I talked to her at a charity dinner in London. He sighed, almost indignant at the silent accusations Pansy was throwing at him with her eyes. — I care about Y/n, allright? If things get out of hand, I'll just tell my parents she's just another insignificant Gryffindor.

— Seriously? Are you stupid or what? Pansy grumbled at Draco, who shrugged from the other side of the breakfast table.

— She’s changed, Pansy! Even Theo agrees. Draco countered, starting to feel bad when he saw Y/n walking toward the table.

— It's her birthday, Draco.

— It’s all good now. We’re not kids anymore. Theodore assured, but Pansy, with a scowl on her face, sulked.

— She's your best friend, Theodore. Are you really going to let the girl who made her cry for over a month come to her birthday party?

— Relax, Pansy. I told you, it’s all good! She’s talked to her therapist about it; the Millicents don’t hold grudges.

— It’s not all good, are you too dumb or too blind to see that it’s not?

— What’s all good or not all good? Y/n approached the table, smiled at her friends, and turned to look at Theo, who was seated and had saved a spot next to him.

— Hey, beautiful. Mattheo smiled at Y/n, who laughed at her friend’s flirtation and sat down after smiling and rolling her eyes.

— Ah, you and... Draco began to speak but was interrupted by Pansy. — Our outfits for the party. A mischievous smile appeared on Y/n's lips as she turned to Theo once again.

— By the way, thanks for the dress. She thanked him, and Theo hoped the trace of confusion on his face wasn’t noticed by the girl in front of him. He didn’t want to disappoint his best friend by saying the gift wasn’t from him.

— Yeah, sure.

— You didn’t have to buy me anything; my birthday is only next...

— Week, I know, principessa, I just... I just wanted you to look pretty tonight. Theodore wanted to strangle himself when those words left his mouth, and the fact that he hadn’t bought anything for Y/n made things worse. However, he knew that after telling Y/n the truth, he would buy her every dress she wanted.

— What color is the dress, Theodore? Mattheo’s sudden voice broke their little world and made them look at Riddle.

— If you don’t know, you’ll see tonight. Theodore snapped with a scowl on his face.

— I bet it’s white; our girl looks sexy in that color, doesn’t she? Y/n was already used to Mattheo’s occasional flirtations, and given their long-standing friendship, she laughed nasally, amused by how Mattheo teased just to annoy Theodore.

— Shut up, man. Theo growled, and noticing the tense atmosphere at the table, Y/n nudged her friend with her leg and placed it over his thigh, intending to make him look at her.

— It’s only seven in the morning, Merlin. Daphne sighed and turned to Pansy with a worried look. Neither of the two girls agreed to invite Anastasia to the party they planned to throw in the Slytherin common room, nor did they see the purpose of it. — Could we go to Hogsmeade before we start getting ready, please? I need to do some shopping. Daphne looked at Y/n and Pansy beside her, who agreed excitedly.

— Sure, plus, we better go because you need to help me understand the History of Magic before lunch. Pansy said, grabbing her friend’s arm and pulling her away from Theo.

— You didn’t understand the History class, Parkinson? Mattheo looked at the black-haired girl with a mocking look, to which she rolled her eyes dramatically.

— I don’t know if you know, Riddle, but I’m great with my hands, not with memory.

— Ouch. Mattheo pretended to feel pain in his chest as Pansy made a face at him.

— Hey, bella, are we still on for Italian lessons tomorrow? Theodore held his best friend’s hand, who looked at him and smiled brightly.

— If we’re still alive, yes.

— Let’s go, let’s go. Pansy grumbled, pulling Millicent out of the hall.

§∆

Around seven, Pansy, Daphne, and Y/n were finishing getting ready when the room was invaded by the four boys with their shirts unbuttoned, cigarettes lit, drinks in hand, and a dubious bottle in Mattheo’s grasp.

— All set, I think tonight we need to get drunk. And the first one to drink has to be the birthday girl. Mattheo did a little dance and gave a cheeky smile to Millicent, who was in her short, slightly see-through white dress, accompanied by a silver mesh adorned with sparkling diamonds. Her thin, silver heels hit the carpet, and Mattheo gestured for her to open her mouth. She did, and he poured the alcoholic liquid into her mouth, which she swallowed, smiling.

— Good girl. Mattheo murmured and moved away to approach Pansy and Daphne. Y/n saw Theo coming toward her with a pack of cigarettes in his mouth. He passed it to her, and she took a drag, blowing the smoke in his face.

— Good girl, who the hell does this guy think he is. Theodore groaned irritably, and Y/n laughed loudly.

— He loves to provoke you, and that reaction is exactly what he wants, Teddy.

— Uhm.

— And you guys are my best friends, so stop it today, please.

— Tutto quello che vuoi, amore mio.

— Wow, you look so hot, girl. Pansy appeared behind Y/n and hugged her.

— I think we should go down already. Blaise said, getting up from the bed where he was sitting, and Draco agreed, taking the cigarette from Theodore's hand.

§∆

Slytherin parties were always the most crowded and definitely the most anticipated by the students because either everything went right... or everything went wrong. It was always a surprise to see how the party would end.

By eleven, most of the students were already drunk and high on wizard herbs, and meanwhile, a group had formed around the sofas in the Slytherin common room with a bottle in the middle.— Isn’t spin the bottle a kid’s game? The voice made Y/n turn her gaze to the figure behind Theodore. Anastasia Conde raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms authoritatively.

— If you don’t know how to play, it is... Y/n murmured, and Draco nudged Pansy.

— See, they’re fine.

— I think I want to play. The redheaded girl, the only redhead from Gryffindor that Y/n swore had come straight from a hole in hell to earth, was sitting next to Theodore, and with all her anger, she hoped Anastasia wouldn’t ruin her night.

Draco spun the bottle once and ended up kissing Pansy on the first round, and everyone there could swear they saw Blaise’s eyes burning with fire at Malfoy for the first time. As the game continued, Daphne did a lap dance on a Hufflepuff guy, Blaise made a seventh-year boy admit to being a virgin, Theodore was forced to take off his shirt and dance while Mattheo poured dragon whiskey on his body, and when the bottle stopped for the first time, giving Y/n the choice of truth or dare, she chose: — Dare.

— That’s my girl! Daphne shouted, and Pansy clapped her hands in anticipation.

Draco didn’t go easy, and he wouldn’t go easy now that he found it satisfying to make Theo jealous of his little dolcezza. — I dare you to act like you’re having sex with Mattheo right here.

— You fucking bastard.

— Should’ve picked truth, principessa. The wrong accent made Theodore’s face turn as red as a pepper, and his anger worsened when he saw Mattheo’s satisfied smile aimed at the Italian in front of him.

— Come here, baby. Mattheo teased, and Y/n smiled at Riddle’s mockery. She stood up, lifted the silver, diamond-adorned part of the dress, and sat on Mattheo’s lap as if there wasn’t an audience watching them. She leaned into Riddle’s ear as if she knew what she was doing and whispered: — I don’t know what to do. Mattheo’s astonished look fell on Millicent’s figure, who laughed nasally, embarrassed.

— Damn, baby. I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth. Mattheo smiled and grabbed the girl’s waist, moving her back and forth. — Just act naturally, princess. You know what to do. Riddle murmured while planting wet kisses on his friend’s neck.

— Come on, Y/n! Are you going to let him control you? Y/n heard Draco’s provocation and rolled her eyes, followed by: — Go to hell, Malfoy.

Angrily, Y/n pushed Mattheo down, causing his back to hit the floor. She then straddled his hips and moved quickly on his lap. — Now I see what I was expecting.

— Fuck. Mattheo's hands gripped Millicent's hips harder as she felt his cock harden beneath her, apparently, it was working then.

Attempting a fake moan that turned almost real, Y/n threw her head back, her curls falling to cover where her dress should have been, but it had ridden up to her waist. When she thought she had finally given everyone what they wanted, Y/n got off Matheo, who looked stunned, and went back to her usual place next to Theo, who had a scowl on his face. — Are you okay?

— Why wouldn't I be? Theodore responded without even looking at her, it was obvious to Y/n that something was wrong.

— Teddy? It was the dare... She pointed out breathlessly.

— I don't care, Y/n, I don't care, really. When she was about to say something else, the bottle stopped on Anastasia and Y/n. She never wanted the bottle to land on her as much as at that moment.

— Truth or dare? Anastasia asked in a tone that made Y/n doubt if she was really a Gryffindor and not a Slytherin.

— Truth.

— Is it true that you've never slept with anyone because you caught diseases from that flea-ridden cat of yours that was killed? Silence fell over the circle, and Y/n cursed her for decades in her head.

— Fuck you, Anastasia.

— Wait, a better question, is it true that your flea-ridden cat was killed because it caught diseases from you?

— Anastasia. Draco called the Gryffindor's attention, showing that she had crossed the line, and the redhead looked at the blonde with a mocking smile on her face.

— What?

— Let's continue, guys... Blaise said, spinning the bottle again and continuing the game without the same vibe as before.

Two more hands joined the game, and two rounds after Anastasia's questions, her friend spun the bottle and dared her to kiss someone in the circle.

— I think I'll go with Teddy Bear.

Y/n Millicent had never wanted to vomit as much as she did at that moment. Seeing her best friend and her worst enemy kissing right beside her made Y/n get up from her spot, her eyes full of tears of rage, and run after a cigarette to calm her nerves. — Fuck it. Her friends knew that wasn't the problem; she wouldn't react so badly if it were anyone else, but it was Anastasia.

After twenty minutes sitting on the stairs, Pansy's presence beside her made her look up, disheartened, and blow the smoke from her cigarette.

— I'm sorry about Theo, love. Pansy hugged her friend by the shoulders and pulled her closer to take a drag from her cigarette.

— He's going to fuck her, isn't he? Y/n asked, already knowing the answer by the tone of disgust in her voice.

— Probably.

— Stupid. Men are so stupid, and you know what? I'm tired of being stupid too. The girl got up angrily, making Pansy follow her movements.

— What do you mean, Y/n?

— You should fuck Blaise, Pans. He really wants to fuck you. The sincerity in Millicent's words made Parkinson choke on her own saliva.

— Excuse me?

— And me? I should had sex.

— With Theo?

— You know I love him, Pansy, but he doesn't feel the same, so if I'm not going to fuck him, I'll fuck my other best friend. Quickly descending the stairs, Pansy grabbed her arm and made her look at her briefly.

— Theo loves you too, dear. You're drunk and upset...

— No, Pans...actually, yes, but he doesn't love me like I love him. Maybe I'm being stupid or overly dramatic too, but screw it. She broke free and went downstairs toward the sofa where Mattheo was sitting with Draco beside him and Blaise on the chair in front.

— Remember what I said. Y/n said, glancing at Blaise before settling onto Mattheo's lap and noticing his erection pressing against her butt.

— Hi. She wrapped her arms around Riddle, who gave her a drunken smile.

— Hi, baby.

— Do you remember what I said earlier? That i didn't know what to do; what do you think about teaching me? Hmm? Mattheo's carefree look remained, as if he didn't believe what the girl in his lap was offering him.

— Mattheo! She slapped Riddle's chest, and he laughed in response.

— What?

— I'm serious.

— About what? — I want you to fuck me. As soon as the words left the girl's mouth, Mattheo straightened up on the couch with her in his lap.

— Really? He asked.

— Really. She confirmed. With this mutual agreement, Millicent's lips fell on Mattheo's neck, making him gasp and lift his hips to meet hers.

— Fuck, Y/n.

— Take me to your room, Matt. Y/n panted, and Mattheo, without thinking much, got up from the couch with her and guided her to the boys' dormitories, where upon reaching his door, his steps halted, and the hand not holding hers rubbed his face.

— Fuck. I really want to fuck you, baby, but Theo's in there... — Mattheo turned to face her, looking into her eyes.

— Get him out then.

— You want revenge, little one, I get it, let's make that bastard regret it then, baby. Mattheo said, laughing and kissing her lips before banging on the door. — Theodore. — He called his friend by name, and it didn't take long for the door to open halfway, revealing Nott with messy hair and, if seen well, regretful eyes, but Y/n tried not to notice.

— What? The boy's accent hit Y/n's ears, and she lowered her gaze to her hand held by Mattheo's.

— I need my fucking room, bro. You've already fucked, now leave. Mattheo was more rude than usual and pulled Y/n closer.

— Okay, got it, wait a minute. The door closed, and Mattheo turned to look at the girl behind him.

— Are you okay? — Nothing will change between us, right, Matt?

— We'll still be friends, Y/n. We'll just strengthen our friendship. He laughed, satisfied to see that he had made her laugh.

The door opened, and Theodore came out with Anastasia behind him. As soon as his gaze met Mattheo's and Y/n's behind him, holding hands and with her dress slightly lifted, Theodore felt the ground pulling him and leaving him breathless, suffocating him as the door closed. He knew what was happening inside.

Mattheo's hands roamed Millicent's body as they both took off their clothes. — You look so hot in that outfit, baby. — Mattheo grunted — And I knew it would look perfect on you, but I have to see you without it.

The boy laid her delicately on his bed and kissed her neck with wet kisses, provoking moans from. Y/n. — Did you give me the dress?

— Yeah. Theodore is a liar, he knew she was coming too. Anastácia, stupid. Mattheo didn't even notice what he was saying about Theo, but after speaking, he realized he just wanted to make her forget a little.

— Ugh. Son of a bitch. She moaned, feeling Mattheo sucking her neck at a specific spot.

— You like it here? Mm-hmm, you like it. Mattheo murmured and moaned in response to the girl's moans beneath him.

— Matt. She moaned.

— I know, princess. Mattheo agreed, rubbing against her. — I'm going to fuck you so well. So well, princess. He repeated while taking off the remaining clothes. — I want you to sit on me like you did earlier, so I hurt you less, princess. And I swear I'll make you feel so good...

— Matt...

In the end, Y/n could affirm the rumors were true. Mattheo Riddle knew how to use his dick very well.

____

Requests are open, message me if you have any ideas💞

Read part two here

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (5/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!) A/N: Thank you guys for the sweet comments! I love reading them and they make me write faster, apparently, haha. Let me know if you have any predictions! I'm super curious. ;)

CHAPTER 5: You get a lot more than you bargained for when Charlie shows up at dinner. For one, how does he manage to make politics, sexy? (4.7k words)

CHAPTER 5: ELECTRIC POLITICS

You were cloaked in warm and well slept-in sheets. You nestled yourself in that comfort for another moment before turning onto your back and cracking an eye open. Above you was a familiar tall and white ceiling. Yep, you were definitely back in your bed. It was always in the earliest of mornings that for the briefest of moments, your mind was inclined to forget what had happened the night before. As your lucidity grew, figments of last night came to you slowly. 

You were at a bar with Charlie, talking about plans…

…That he shredded.

Right, that happened.

But had it all been a dream? Maybe it was still the morning after that disastrous dinner and your subconscious had plotted out the past couple of “days”. 

You pulled your covers off and stared at your naked kneecap. There was a light bruise, a pale spot of red, from when Charlie was trying to ‘gauge’ your limits or whatever he’d called it.  To think he’d left a mark by just casually holding your knee in his hand, not even intently putting pressure on it. To think if he’d done anything with intent… 

“Get a grip on yourself,” you chastised, fanning away thoughts that were too lewd for the morning. You were growing annoyed with yourself after losing every shroud of strong-headedness you had. Charlie was just attractive and confident. But so were thousands of other men in the world, so why did he get to control your narrative last night?

You exhaled, resolving to think about it later, then walked over to the closet to dress for the day. 

Narcissa was the only one in the sunroom when you arrived. It looked like your father and Draco had already had breakfast and gone off to do whatever the day asked of them. 

“Good morning,” you greeted, slipping into your chair.

“You got in late last night,” Narcissa responded.

You shrugged. “It was Friday, and I’m young.”

There was a wrinkle of disapproval on her mouth. By now, Lucius would’ve told her about Charlie and about your little scene last weekend at the cafe, and she would’ve filled in your whereabouts last night with that information.

She looked out the garden and then back at you. “What does your schedule look like in a month’s time? Say, the second Sunday of October?”

“I imagine it’s free.”

“You best keep it open, then,” Narcissa continued. “My monthly book club is inviting a prolific author for tea. I would like you to join us.”

“Oh?” She’d certainly piqued your interest. “Who?”

“Madame Millicent,” she said. “She’s been praised as the face of female empowerment in the literary world.”

Female empowerment. This was exactly what you needed after you let Charlie throw you around like a rag doll, falling docile to his every touch and word. Hm, maybe having tea with this Madame Millicent wouldn’t be so bad.

The problem was that you hadn’t even heard of her. “What should I read to prepare?”

 “That’s up to you,” Narcissa advised. “Choose a title of hers that interests you. She has three titles out now. I have everything in the study.”

You nodded. You had about a month which gave you more than a week to clear each book. 

You had your coffee and pastry with a side of small talk, chatting with your mother about mundane topics like what her book club was reading this week and what she was doing this weekend.

Before you knew it, it was Friday afternoon, the day before the dinner. This day in particular, you found comfort in sitting on the couch in Fred and George’s flat with free use of their owl, writing letters to Charlie. This old rickety couch was now your favourite creative outlet, you supposed.

You hoped Charlie wasn’t fickle in his decisions, so you had to confirm he would be present tomorrow. 

Hi, Charlie We’re still on for tomorrow? 

Of course. 

What are you wearing

Just then, a loud explosion sounded outside. Your jerky response drew out the 'g' in your sentence. You set the quill down on the coffee table, walked to the main door, opened it, and looked to the room adjacent to the flat. 

“Are you alright?” you called out into the abyss.

You saw a thumbs up against a plum of black smoke, so you retreated back to the couch. When you returned, the letter was gone along with the owl. Minutes later, the owl returned with another letter. 

I don’t have to tell you how improper that sounds, (Y/N). I’m saving this letter for a later date. 

You wrote back with a reddening face.

You know I mean for this Saturday. And burn it, please.

The same old thing I always do. Is that okay?

An attire of a jean jacket thrown over a comfortably worn t-shirt would make your classist father curl with rage. It was perfect. 

Of course. Remember, we’re at 8 Estates Lane and dinner starts at 6 p.m. If you end up at 6 Estates Lane, you may encounter Cecile, a widow, who’s just getting over her late husband. She’s still healing, so best to leave her alone. 

Got it. See you at six tomorrow, (Y/N) darling.

In the time it took to read Charlie’s letter, Fred had tiptoed in and peered over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you just talk to him in person?”

“Because,” you sighed, turning around to poke him in the face with a quill, “You make fun of me when I come over now, and Charlie doesn’t seem to like to play by the books.”

“What do you mean?”

“He shredded my script last Friday.” 

‘And touched me in places he shouldn’t have, and nearly kissed me, and made a fool of me in retrospect,’ you thought. But you wouldn’t tell Fred that was why you were nervous to see Charlie in person: because of whatever spell he’d put on you last time. 

“It wasn’t good anyway,” Fred remarked honestly. 

You furrowed your brows. You poured your heart and mind into that thing! “What do you mean?”

“You were writing lullabies. I almost fell asleep listening to them.”

“This is the least I can do to ensure some consistency,” you argued. “I won’t convince anyone at dinner if I act just as shocked as my parents.”

“Charlie isn’t going to be boxed in by whatever the rules are. He just does what feels right to him at the time, and his intuition is often correct.” Fred threw his arms up in defence after seeing your increasingly perturbed expression. “But don’t ask me, Bill knows him way better.”

“I’m sure, seeing they’re, what, two years apart?”

“They’ll tell each other everything, anything,” Fred added. “Actually, you should ask Bill if you need any blackmail material to keep Charlie in line.”

You were about to agree, but that thought was interrupted by an owl flying into the open window and pecking at you. You stared at the animal quizzically. Unless Charlie was continuing your pretty much finished conversation, then who was this for? You slit the ribbon and unfurled the parchment. Immediately, you noticed the penmanship was different. Neater. Crisper. Like it was written by someone who needed their numbers and figures written crystal clear, say, someone whose profession might be that of a bank official…

(Y/N), Charlie is wearing a black sweater and grey sweatpants. I heard you were curious as per your last letter.  Sincerely,  Bill Weasley

Noticing your mortified expression, Fred was quick to snatch the letter out of your hands. Immediately, his braying laughter filled the room.

“I told you they tell each other everything!” he boasted. 

For the third time this week, you were sure you were parading about a sinking ship.

Tick, tick.

5:58 p.m. on Saturday evening, Lucius crossed one leg over the other, looking expectedly at the circular driveway that wrapped around a marble fountain outside the main entrance. He set his cane aside and adjusted his tie, a black piece in his suit of all black.

5:59 p.m., Narcissa tapped her fingers on her stocking-clad legs. She, too, took to a dress of all black. The only colour on her body was an emerald brooch.

6:00 p.m., a wave of nausea overtook you. You fiddled with a button on your white textured cardigan that you slipped over a black pleated dress.

6:01 p.m., Draco, dressed like his father, let out a scoff at your expense. Pitiful was the sound and wounded was your ego.

“So,” Lucius’s voice cut through the tense air. “Where is Charlie?”

You blanched, at a loss for an explanation. He’d promised you he was going to be here. You had written proof, but it would have no standing in your father’s court of law. 

“Well?” he urged.

“Probably weaving his way through the forest,” you excused with as most conviction as you could muster. “It’s not easy to find such a remote location, especially a mansion on Estates Lane.”

Draco looked at his silver watch on his wrist and let out a sound of competent. “He’s already five minutes late. But I wasn’t expecting anything more from a Weasley, anyway.” Then, he suggested something you didn’t want to hear. “Father, how much longer should we wait before we call off this dinner? You and I have more important things to deal with anyway.”

“I’ll give it—”

Lucius was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. A few seconds later, Dobby came running.

“Who is it, Dobby?” Narcissa asked, standing up. 

“It’s Ms. Cromwell and Mr. Weasley.”

“Ms. Cromwell?” Lucius repeated. 

The four of you, Malfoys and all, shared the same confusion as you scurried to meet your guest—plural, you corrected, guests.

At the entrance of the door, Cecile Cromwell stood with Charlie. She was the heiress you mentioned in your letter. The grieving heiress you warned him not to bother. Her late husband, Chuck Cromwell, held a large fortune in his name before passing last month. Cecile looked polished as always, layers of diamonds and silver looped around her twill dress. Wrapped in her shawl, she looked like the face of elegance and especially juxtaposed to Charlie…

Charlie, who was not wearing what he said he was going to. In fact, he complemented Cecile perfectly. 

He’d slicked his hair back and tied the longer strands up. His blouse boasted some frilly lace that looked like it belonged on Genevieve’s wedding dress rather than his broad chest. The blouse sleeves were long, and the same frilly material poked out at his wrists. He wore a red undercoat that clashed heavily with his purple overcoat which was embroidered with gold stitches. Perhaps the most terrible thing was that his pants cut off past his knees. But his legs weren’t bare, absolutely not. He chose some sort of silk stocking to run down his legs before they were swallowed by his buckled shoes. 

“My apologies for the delay, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy,” Charlie said. “And to you, my lovely (Y/N).”

You were relieved that Lucius and Narcissa’s gazes were so zoned in on Charlie that they couldn’t even spare you a glance. Because your face was a clear tell that you weren’t expecting this at all. Whatever happened to his promise of a jean jacket and slacks? 

“I’d expected him to dress like this, something reflective of his character,” Draco whispered from beside you. “A circus act.”

“Bugger off,” you warned, giving him a push away.

“It was a rather circuitous route through the dense forest and trees,” Charlie explained, dusting off a twig that was stuck in the loopy lace of his blouse. You wanted to scream. “Luckily, I had Ms. Cromwell to guide me to safety.”

“Cecile is more than fine, Charles,” Cecile assured, smoothing out his suit for him. “As we discussed on the way here.”

“And Charlie is fine, as we discussed,” he added. 

“You didn’t have to walk all the way here, Ms. Cromwell,” Lucius said rather hastily. “It’s rather chilly. Let me have the house elf escort you back.”

“Nonsense,” she deflected, only giving Lucius a moment of her time before fixing a strand of Charlie’s hair that a branch must’ve unstuck. “Walking keeps me youthful in my old age. And meeting Charles, I mean Charlie here, was the sunshine to my gloomy day.”

“I couldn’t have assumed you were over fifty,” Charlie commented.

“Oh, you,” Cecile said with a loud giggle. You’d never seen the heiress act like a fifteen-year old.  “You remind me of my late husband so very much. Same name, just as handsome, and you’re dressed like him when we met as teenagers. Any lady would be lucky to have you.”

Well, at least someone in the room thought he looked charming in those dated robes.

“Men these days don’t possess that same sense of charming style. It’s always the same shades of black and white.”

Lucius and Draco both silently peered down at their suit of all black before Lucius said: “I fear that a storm could break any moment now, you best get going,” he insisted, nudging Dobby to take the heiress’s hand.

“I’m happy to provide direction anytime, Charlie,” Cecile reminded as Dobby guided—very gently pulled—her to the door. She shot him a wink. “You know where I live.”

Charlie stepped forward. “Of course, Cecile. Have a pleasant evening.”

Then, the door shut leaving the five of you in silence. 

“How nice it is to be able to meet your neighbours, Mr. Malfoy, despite the circumstances of my delayed arrival,” Charlie said. “It doesn’t impress well upon me. I hope I can be forgiven for the gaffe.”

It took Lucius longer than usual to register Charlie’s words. It was apparent he was embarrassed that Cecile Cromwell was cognizant that Charlie Weasley was invited to his mansion for dinner. And was dating his daughter.

“Of course,” Narcissa answered in lieu of her frozen husband. “Shall we proceed to the dining room?”

She took Lucius’s hand and gave him a less-than-gentle nudge towards the hall. Lucius walked like the troll that had somehow stormed its way into Hogwarts in your third year. Still unable to speak, he walked along with Narcissa. Draco scampered behind your parents. All you could do was stare at the chaos Charlie caused by merely arriving. 

“Come on then,” Charlie spoke in a low tone next to you. He took you by the hand as well.

“Where did you get these robes?” you asked, referring to his costume.

“It was my great-aunt’s father’s, or something of that sort. Mum wasn’t clear. It really was stowed away in the attic, and I wore it against better advice.”

“Why?”

“I’m a classy man,” Charlie boasted. “What more can I say?”

Dobby rushed back just in time to pour the wine. You were seated next to Charlie, Draco in front of you, and your parents on each side of the table. 

“How is work, Mr. Malfoy?” Charlie asked through a polite sip of red when it settled.

“It’s been keeping me busy,” Lucius responded almost robotically. 

“September is never a quiet time for the Ministry, as both my brothers and father say.”

Lucius was half-focused on conversation. He’d recovered from the Cecile incident, but there was another enemy: he couldn’t keep his eyes off Charlie’s hand that was doting touches on your arm and waist. Truthfully, neither could you. Charlie’s fingers squeezed sporadically and you thanked the wine glass for absorbing your squeal. 

“Of course not, which is why we look forward to the summer. Speaking of, where will you summer?” Lucius asked. You nearly rolled your eyes at the uppity way he worded the question. Arthur had once asked you the same, but in a direct way: ‘Where are you going this summer?’

“We spend a day or two at some of the beach resorts in Romania, or dip into Greece, but there is one spot I’ve been dying to visit,” Charlie said.

“Where is that?” Lucius pressed. 

“Your brother Theodore’s new estate in Paris.”

Lucius mouth paused mid-retort. Narcissa’s red lip was stuck, pressed against the wine glass.

You, on the other hand, had to fight the thunderous laugh rising in your chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucius said, shaking his head with a slight laugh of disbelief. “I didn’t catch that. Where is this?”

“(Y/N) was telling me about how tremendous your brother’s Parisian estate was,” Charlie clarified, his words full of air and cheer. “I can imagine how big it is compared to this mansion. And I hear he hosts a wickedly good game of golf, which I’d be happy to partake in.”

“It’s good enough for Paris,” Lucius said. “But—”

“See, you and I are similar in that regard,” Charlie interrupted, raising a finger. Lucius’s frown grew steeper at how Charlie was now lumping them in the same bracket. “Living in the shadows of our perfect older brothers and being constantly compared to them.”

Lucius scoffed. “My parents knew better than to do that.”

‘Yeah, right,’ you thought. Your grandfather, Abraxas, loved to pit his two sons together, like they were animals in a ring. And like an unbreakable tradition, Lucius imposed that on you and Draco, and you knew you weren’t as wonderful as the perfect little Malfoy next to you. 

“I would be pleased to meet your brother one day,” Charlie said. “Maybe next summer. After all, (Y/N) has met most of my extended family and there’s nothing that ties a partnership like family.”

“We’ll see what our plans are for next summer,” Lucius said. “It’s a little premature to be thinking of that already.”

“Of course,” Charlie conceded. “My apologies for being so rash.”

“Will you be returning to Romania?” Lucius asked. “Is it possible for you to have time off during summer with your job, anyway,?” 

“It’s hard to be thinking about the summer already,” Charlie repeated with a smile, taking Lucius’s line and stuffing it back in his own mouth.

“So, what will you and (Y/N) do to see each other?” Narcissa quickly piped in with a wife’s intuition that her husband was going to cause a scene about the manner of Charlie’s response.

“Well, I’ll try my very best to make it back to England when I can for the holidays,” Charlie promised. “But (Y/N) is also intent on visiting Romania for weeks on end if there are time constraints.”

Narcissa was startled. “And she’ll travel herself?” 

“Yes, I will,” you confirmed. Charlie glanced at over you, his expression proud and thoroughly impressed at your improvisation. You gave a small smile back. 

“All that travelling does take a toll on the body, especially that of a young woman,” Narcissa warned. You redirected your attention to your wine, evading her glance over. 

‘Oh, mother, thank you for always being so cognizant of the state of my reproductive organs,’ you thought.

Narcissa dug further into Charlie. “Have you considered settling down in one place?”

“Not in the next couple of years,” Charlie said. He was so convincing that you could see your future reflected in the polished glass in front of you, full of Romanian castles and mountains. “Nothing like travelling when we’re young, right, (Y/N)?”

You nodded. “Absolutely. We should take all the time we need.”

“Have you thought about marriage? Children? Wouldn’t it better for a family to remain in one place, too?” Narcissa asked, oblivious to Lucius’s eye that had just twitched. The thought of you and Charlie producing off-spring might’ve been revolting for him to forget about dinner altogether. 

Charlie looked solemn. “That might not be in the picture.”

You quickly looked over. This was far from what you would’ve wanted him to say, but Charlie squeezed your knee to silence you. You almost kicked up at the table. 

“It’s a shared decision, is it not?” Narcissa asked.

“Yes, of course,” you added breathlessly. Best to just play along with Charlie. “And I think, I think… the same.”

“We’ll re-evaluate in ten years,” Charlie assured.

“Ten—!” Lucius finally spoke for his wife, before cutting himself off.  “And you’ll be how old then, Charles?”

“Thirty-nine,” Charlie responded. Rubbing salt on the wound, he reminded your parents: “And (Y/N) will be thirty-three.”

Now it was Narcissa’s turn to look as white as a spirit. She had you when she was twenty-four, and Draco at twenty-six. Comparatively, thirty-three was geriatric. 

You bit down to quell the laugh that was trying to escape your lips. Charlie knew how to make your parents tick and hit each box perfectly, like he was scoring points on the Quidditch field in his prime years. In your little ‘lullaby’, you and Charlie were having ten kids, but having none was clearly the better option. You did prefer your mother over your father and hated to make her upset, but the constant reminder on you and never Draco to be married, to bear children, to be a mother yourself, was a lot. 

“Draco will obviously carry on the family name should my decision remain unchanged.” You nudged Draco with your foot. Your tone was devilish; it was time for Draco to bear the burden of everything. “Won’t you?”

Draco growled back. You both loved offloading familial duties onto each other.

“What is your reason, Charles, if you don’t mind me asking?” Narcissa asked. 

“Seeing how much my parents had to sacrifice and give up for themselves,” Charlie responded, a tinge of sadness coating his voice. 

Again, if Charlie Weasley needed a second career, acting wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. 

“Well, when you make the decision to have more children than you can afford, that seems like an unavoidable issue,” Lucius said hotly. 

“They struggled, but I wouldn’t trade any of my siblings for anything in the world.”

The air of the room was clouded with confusion. Lucius was set out to hate Charlie, but Charlie was acting the part of a perfect, coiffed gentleman (save for the remarks about Uncle Theo’s bigger estate and inviting himself over). Narcissa, though milder than Lucius, would’ve preferred a different man for you than Charlie Weasley, but she was upset you weren’t set out to have her grandchild(ren) anytime soon. Draco, always in the mood for a snarky comment, didn’t know whether to laugh or continue to live through the horror of a conversation your parents were actually invested in. 

“Very well,” Lucius said, leaning back. “It’s a shame Kingsley’s new policies have made it harder for the working class to have children.”

You groaned internally. Even Draco, who was always on his father’s side, rolled his eyes at Lucius’s favourite topic: blaming every bad thing in the world on the current Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. It was easier for him to have sway over his predecessor, Cornelius Fudge. Well, before Fudge was forced to resign over some controversies in his office. 

“Undoubtedly,” Charlie backed him up with a nod. Lucius looked at him with surprise; he hadn’t expected him to agree. But you didn’t think Charlie was going to, based on the crafty smirk on his face. “It’ll take decades to undo the damage Fudge put forth in his years in office, draining funding from things like childcare and parental leave and putting that money in the pockets of his friends instead.”

There it was. 

Shadows appeared on Lucius’s countenance. “Fudge did no such thing.”

Draco slammed his face into his hands. 

Lucius continued. “He’s only ever introduced good policies, like the potential reintroduction of dragon domestication.” 

“Having spent a decade near them, I can say they’re absolutely not suitable for domestication,” Charlie pointed out. 

“The earliest of Malfoys have been domesticators of dragons,” Lucius stated. “And they did very well, before the Ministers of Magic intervened.”

It was a touchy topic for your father indeed. Centuries ago, Malfoys did the unfathomable: they domesticated dragons and the only way to do that was to really hurt the beasts. And hunted them for sport. The same terrible creatures that had power to burn down cities, the same creatures that people staked their lives to tame. But ethics and politics shook down on the practice, and dragon domestication reflected once again in a bad light. 

Or that was what you’d read. Lucius preferred to say that those in power were gleeful to finally shake down on Malfoys. Maybe it was just transgenerational shame. You knew Malfoys hated being told what to do. 

“For good reason. The fatality rate of those trying to domesticate dragons was beyond any acceptable threshold, and vice versa.” Charlie’s voice was now lower, more serious than you’d ever heard him. His lovely bass notes reverberated in your ear and sent a chill down your spine.

“So, what exactly is the point of your job?” Lucius asked hotly. “Don’t you, on a technicality, domesticate them?”

“I study and work with them, Mr. Malfoy,” Charlie corrected. In a battle for authority, Charlie was winning. “You can call it taming, if you’d like, so they’re less destructive to the environment and wizardkind. I can make them pliable for transport as well.”

Your eyes darted back and forth between Lucius and Charlie. 

Behind Charlie’s cool and collected demeanour, you had to wonder if he was affected by your father’s words. You knew he cared deeply about dragons, never even taking more than a week off them in the past decade. He wouldn’t ever fathom hurting them for personal gain.

“Let’s have some dinner, shall we?” Narcissa said quickly. No one wanted to see Lucius riled up over politics.

The rest of dinner proceeded without a hitch, in your eyes at least. In between courses, Charlie pulled you close and whispered in your ears. You were sure this was for show because you didn’t understand anything he was saying, or maybe it was because you were too busy gazing into his deep blue eyes and studying every freckle on his cheek.

When the clock struck nine, and the last drop of coffee was had, Charlie excused himself to leave.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy for such a delightful evening,” Charlie remarked at the door. “And for such an insightful discussion on dragon domestication, Mr. Malfoy.”

Charlie was tempting war.

“I would be happy to discuss this topic anytime, Charles,” Lucius responded icily. 

Charlie hummed in agreement. “Of course.” Then, he turned to you. 

In a flash, all you could see was a mouthy smirk that had definitely sunk ships in past lifetimes. 

His right arm reached out to take you by the waist to spin you around. You expected him to only bid you goodnight but you were way off the mark. His lips remained silent. His left hand did all the talking by climbing to the back of your neck to position you how he wanted. He tilted your head back and inched closer and then—

His lips landed on yours. 

You might’ve been flustered or pushed him away under normal circumstances, but this was no normal circumstance. Unsure of what to do, you lay immobile in his arms, like that rag doll you promised you weren’t going to be. Except you were, again. He was playing you like a marionette puppet and his hands were the strings. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of the dress until you could feel each one. His lips stuck on yours like honey, like a fruit lolly from Honeydukes on a hot summer day. His eyelashes brushed against your eyelids as he tilted your head down further to deepen the kiss.

Patches of muscled torso pressed against the front of your body. Warmth seeped from his hand to the back of your neck as his palm caressed your skin while his fingers tangled themselves in your hair.

He deepened the kiss once more before pulling away. 

You stumbled upwards as he withdrew himself. Your fingers ghosted over your flushed lips in disbelief, but again, no one saw. In this moment, no one cared about you. 

When the stars faded and vision came to be, the first thing you saw were the agape mouths of your parents. But they weren’t going to chastise Charlie over the improper way he said goodbye; there were no words to be had.

“Have yourself a wonderful evening,” Charlie said in a manner so unaffected that you didn’t understand. He had just given you the most electric kiss you’ve ever had, and in front of your parents and brother. “And many thanks again for having me.”

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CHAPTER DIRECTORY