#pansy angst

[tomriddleslove]

Omg I have a THEODORE NOTT request for you

Super duper angst hurt comfort

Theo’s dad basically hurts the reader and sends her back to Theo as a warning to stay away from such mudbloods and its just heart wrenching guilt and hurt and tending to her wounds through treat

Song: Half a Man by dean lewis perhaps?

I already have.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader (request)

Summary: The one where Theo has the one person he loves the most hurt by his worst nightmare. Alternatively: He thinks he’d rather die than see you in pain.

A/N: I DID MANAGE TO DO IT BY TODAY!!! I’ll be responding to the next few requests soon. You said comfort but didn’t specify a happy ending 😺

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, blood.

Theodore Nott never expected to fall in love.

It seemed rather bleak for him, to be honest. He didn’t have the time to think about love when he was too busy wrapped up in navigating the life he had ahead of him.

One couldn't blame him though. With his family as the only example of what love could be, he certainly didn't have a good impression.

Theodore couldn’t recall a single time when he had seen his father treat his mother with kindness or respect.

Let alone love? A truly laughable notion.

Theodore's father had not shown a single ounce of love to his wife, or Theodore. Even on that godforsaken day when Theodore had witnessed his mother die, his father had simply delivered a swift strike to his face and told him to ‘man up.’

So to put it simply, The absence of love in his family cast a shadow over his perception of relationships, making it difficult for him to fathom the idea of falling in love himself.

Then you came.

You came, and god, Theodore doesn't remember how he lived without you. It wasn’t a whirlwind love, a sort of fell fast and hard, rather you entered his life like a slow and steady rain, seeping through the foundations of Theodore's life till you had consumed them completely, crumbling them down against his own will.

It rained, and you became the quiet storm, soft yet unyielding.

Love came like the easiest thing when he met you. It wasn't foreign, or a distant concept; instead, it felt like the most natural and effortless occurrence in Theodore's life. Love with you was as simple and uncomplicated as breathing, a seamless rhythm that he hadn't known was missing until you came along.

You were more than shocked when Theodore admitted he didn’t think he could ever fall in love. The boy, who loved you as though he was born to (he argues he was), who would so tenderly kiss your forehead and hold your hand, not capable of love? The one who would leave his coat for you during the winter months and bring a spare scarf because, he knew you were stubborn, and he was worried you'd get sick, not deserving of love?

You kissed him deeply and made him swear he'd never think of that ever again.

You reminisced on Theodore like some sort of lovesick fool separated by war from their lover, though it was merely only the summer holidays. Whilst Theodore would want nothing more than to come with you, his father demanded his presence back at home. You knew little about Theodore's mother, and even less about his father. Anything leading up to a conversation about them would simply result in Theodore immediately redirecting the conversation, becoming a tad more guarded for the next day or so.

It’s not that he didn’t trust you, because he wholeheartedly did. He would place his beating heart in your hands even if you had a knife in the other, for he trusted you that much.

No, in fact, it was the very opposite. Theodore knew you, and he refused to let you ever get involved in that part of his life. He swore he would never let his father even lay his eyes on you.

He would have loved for his mother to have met you. He doesn't remember her that well, but he's sure, some sort of instinctive feeling within him, that she would have loved you.

You had been back in Hogsmeade a mere 2 days before school had started, to stockpile on some supplies for school.

Students were permitted to start returning to Hogwarts three days before school began, and you would always go back early, valuing having the near-empty castle. It meant you could settle back into a school routine comfortably, and have some time alone before school resumes.

It also gave you time to do stuff for Theodore. You didn't know much about what went on at his house, but assuming from the way he’d come back absolutely exhausted with bags under his eyes, you figured it wasn't good.

It seemed to be the same routine almost every time you'd come back - he comes over to your dorm (luckily for you, all your dormmates essentially lived in their boyfriend's dorms, as they were all friends with one another, so you had it all to yourself 99% of the time). He’d kiss you hello and wordlessly take off his shoes and jacket. You’d lie on your bed and he’d come lie on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He would rest his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat soothing him, as he listened to you talk about your holidays till he fell asleep, feeling safe for the first time, unburdened by his worries.

He’d sleep, and you'd trace the furrow of his brow. You ached for the ability to just, alivieate him of everything he carried so close to him. But you knew that healing was a long journey, and you'd be there for him on the way.

You wander around a little bookstore, finding a book for you and Theodore to read. You paid for the copy, turning to leave the shop when you bump into a man.

You quickly offered a polite apology, even though his cold gaze and disdainful demeanour sent a chill down your spine.

Those eyes. They were oh so familiar to the very striking eyes of the boy you so loved. Come to think of it, the hair was the same too. Was this…..

"Watch where you're going, girl," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain

You clenched your jaw, swallowing the anger that threatened to surface. Keeping your composure, you replied evenly, "I apologize if I inconvenienced you, sir."

His eyes then flickered to the books in your hands, a sceptical look crossing his face. "You are a student at Hogwarts? What year?" he sneered.

You took a deep breath before responding, "Final year, sir."

Seeing an opportunity to shift the dynamics, you gestured towards Theodore's family resemblance. "You must be Theodore's father. The resemblance is striking."

His eyes narrowed, and he asked with an air of suspicion, "How do you know Theodore?"

You hesitated for a moment but decided to be honest. "We're dating."

Theodore's father raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and derision on his face. "Dating, are you?" he scoffed. "Tell me, girl, who are your parents? Perhaps I've heard of them."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you shake your head, responding. "I doubt you would know them. They're Muggles."

His expression darkened, and a look of pure contempt appeared on his face. "Muggles? Muggles?" He snarls, taking a step closer to you.

Theodore's father's face contorted with disgust, and his voice dripped with venom as he continued, "You, a pathetic Muggle, dare to pollute my son's bloodline? You're nothing but filth, tarnishing the Nott family name with your presence."

You felt a surge of anger and fear. This is what Theodore was trying to keep from you. That his family were prejudiced against your very existence.

Without warning, he roughly grabbed your arm, his grip tightening painfully. The pain shot through you, and you winced.

"Listen closely, Mudblood," he hissed, tightening his hold. "You're nothing more than a passing fancy for my son. If you have any sense, you'll sever ties with him before you bring further shame upon yourself."

Without a second to let you answer, he releases his grip on you, spinning on his heel as he storms out of the store. It takes you a second to recuperate and process what the fuck had just gone on before you turn and quickly dash out of the store, trying to catch a glimpse of his father. Sure enough, you spot him disappearing down a narrow alley.

Before you can stop to think, you chase after him, shouting as you do.

“Hey!” You snap, closing in on the distance.

Theodore was correct in one thing. He knew you well. And he knew that if you ever knew of his father, you’d get involved.

His father’s long black cloak billowed behind him, disappearing down a narrow alleyway that seemed to swallow his wrath. Fueled by a mixture of hurt and anger, you hurried after him, determined to address the injustice he had just unleashed.

Desperation laced your anger-fuelled shouts as you closed the distance. His brisk pace showed no signs of slowing, and as you reached out to grab his arm, the narrowness of the alley made it easy for him to turn around swiftly.

"How dare you touch me, you wretched Mudblood!" he hissed, his eyes ablaze with hatred.

Before you could react, he unleashed a hex.

It hit you with an intensity that sent a shockwave of pain radiating through your body. The force of the curse flung you backwards, and you collided with the cold stone wall, gasping for breath. A searing pain radiates throughout your body, and you cough, looking down. It was akin to some sort of slash, as though he had hit you with an invisible thing, a clean cut on your thigh, and arm. You see a drop of blood drip down onto your skirt and, dazed, bring your hand up to your face. You feel something wet, and when you pull your hand back it has a crimson red glistening on your fingertips, and-

oh.

There was a cut on your face too.

As you steadied yourself, you felt the searing pain intensify, a burning sensation spreading from the point of impact on your arm. Theodore's father approached with a malevolent satisfaction etched across his face. He looms over you, glaring down at you.

"You'd do well to heed my warning, Mudblood," he sneers, his voice low and menacing. "Stay away from my son, or next time, the consequences will be even more severe."

He cast a disdainful glance at your injured form before straightening up, his dark cloak billowing as he walked away without a second thought.

You took a deep breath, shuddering as you braced your palms against the cobblestone floor of the alleyway. You push yourself up, wincing as you try to ignore the throbbing pain in your body as you gingerly get up.

You gather your scattered belongings and look around, seeing nothing but the near-empty village. Summoning every ounce of strength, you began to limp back towards the castle, the weight of humiliation pressing down on your shoulders.

You felt exposed. The idea that Theodore had hidden such a massive thing from you, made you feel all the more humiliated.

You keep your head down and soon enough appear at Hogwarts. It doesn't give you the happiness it usually does, rather you just want to go back to your room and change, and sleep.

It was at this moment that you were rather glad that you decided to come back early, for you can only imagine the looks you'd get if it was packed full of students.

Exhausted, and simply just over it, you make your way up to the dorm. There are only two other students you spotted on the way, but they were far too busy snogging the daylights out of one another to notice you.

It reminded you of…

Theodore.

How would you face Theodore? Did you want to face Theodore?

No, you resolved, you didn’t. You couldn't comprehend keeping such a key detail from someone, let alone the person you loved. Why he did that to you, you’d never understand.

You unlock your dorm room door, dropping your bag at the door, You look up and to your utter confusion, see Theodore sitting on your bed. He looks up at you, the smile on his face very quickly replaced with a deep frown.

He gets up, and-

oh.

Never mind.

You did want to be near him.

You really wanted to be near him.

It was stupid really. You didn’t feel like crying at all, but the second you saw Theodore, that feeling very quickly resolved into the urge to bury your face into your chest, and not stop.

So you did.

Theodore's arms envelop you, and he holds you impossibly tight. He swears every sob that comes from you chips away at his being and he soothes you, rubbing your back as he holds you.

Theodore can count the number of times he's felt pure anger on one hand. Sheer rage. The type that consumes you from the inside out. Once when he was 8, and his mother passed away. He remembers hearing his father disregard the whole thing with such cruel indifference he felt as though a fire was blazing him from the inside out. As with many young wizards his age, he did not know how to control this magic.

He ended up setting fire to the library that day.

The second time, in 1st year, when Alicia Thornsby had made a cruel remark about Theodore’s home life.

“Well, my mother said that Theodore must have a horrible holiday. What, with his father being-” She starts, but she didn’t get to finish.

The teachers couldn’t comprehend under what vindication a child learnt a stinging hex strong enough to permanently mar the skin of the girl, but it was the first and last time anyone dared utter a word against Theodore.

That was the 2nd, and last time Theodore had felt unbridled rage, in his 18 years of life.

That was, until today.

Because, the sight of you, with blood on your cheek, sobbing into his chest, was enough to reignite that dormant flame of anger within Theodore.

“Who?” He manages to utter, voice strained.

You remain quiet, the silence punctuated by the occasional sniffle as you remain hidden in his chest.

He pulls back, lifting your chin. Your eyes are fixated on where the once-dried blood had washed onto his shirt, and he is fixated on you.

“Who?” He emphasises again, his eyes flickering down to the cut on your face. He runs his finger gently along the cut, and when he watches you wince he pauses, a flicker of pain crossing his face. The sight of you wincing, even at his gentle touch, shatters something within Theodore.

You hesitate before you speak, but ultimately, the words slip out of your mouth.

“Your father.”

The weight of those two words, "Your father," hung in the air, and for a moment, Theodore felt as if the very ground beneath him had crumbled.

His eyes widen momentarily, and he can't speak.

No, because there's a horrible feeling of fear, guilt, regret, perhaps a combination of all three, and it's lodged in his throat. It’s almost suffocating him, he can barely breathe, and it's constricting his airways.

The image of you, the person he held dearest, broken and bloodied, collided with the nightmare he had feared for years. He couldn't comprehend the cruelty his own flesh and blood had inflicted upon you, someone he cherished beyond measure. He speaks, and his voice is so heartbreakingly soft, a mere whisper weighed down by the burden of the truth that unfolded before him.

“I'm so, so sorry.” He utters, as though he prompted the hand that came down to hit you.

He believed he did. Because it was only by association, that you had been hurt by his father. That was why you were hurt, right?

His fault. All his fault. All his fault.

He has to take a deep breath and force himself to calm down and think.

Think.

His first priority was you. Always you. He leads you down to your bed and forces you to take a seat on the edge. You watch him as he disappears into the bathroom, reemerging with a damp washcloth in his hand. He kneels down in front of you, hesitating as he slowly lifts the hem of your skirt upwards slightly. He catches a glimpse of the gash on your thigh and that horrible feeling remerges again.

He gently wipes the cloth over the cut, leaning down to press a kiss on your skin. He mutters a few words, and with a small sharp pinch, the skin on your thigh begins to stitch up slightly. Not enough to fully heal, but to ensure it would in the future.

You don’t question how he knows exactly how to heal these wounds.

You know.

He does the same for your arm. Every second he stares at the cut, he feels his resolve shatter further and further, till he can tell whether he wants to cry or ensure the murder of his father with his own hands.

His hands come up to your face, and he lets out a shaky breath. He is ashamed to even look you in the face,

His own reflection of guilt and regret is etched into his features. He keeps his eyes focused on the task at hand, tending to the wounds inflicted upon you by the person who Theodore swore would never even set his gaze on you.

The room is filled with an anguished silence as Theodore continues his ministrations.

As he tends to your injuries, Theodore's mind is a battleground of self-recrimination. The echoes of your sobbing, the memory of your blood on his shirt, haunt him like a relentless ghost. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispers again, the words heavy with remorse as if he could somehow atone for the sins of his family.

With each stitch on your wounds, he feels the seams of his composure unravelling.

When he finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, the vulnerability in his eyes is palpable. The shame he feels is evident.

You muster a weak smile, a hand coming up to cup his face. Your thumb brushes against his cheek lovingly as you speak, your voice calm.

“It's not your fault,”

He wants to cry.

It is. It is his fault.

Theodore pulls you into an embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. The warmth of his embrace is both comforting and suffocating, a paradox of love and guilt; a conflict that threatens to tear him apart.

As Theodore lies down with you, the weight of his guilt still hangs in the air. He holds you as if trying to shield you from the world. He utters words of apology, repeating the words like a mantra.

“I love you.”

But amidst the soothing cadence of his voice, there's an undercurrent of resolution. The conflict within Theodore reaches its zenith, and a painful decision emerges. He knows he can't risk his father ever hurting you again. The love he feels for you clashes with the harsh reality of his future.

Theodore's grip tightens for a moment as if trying to hold onto the fleeting moments of solace. Yet, with a heavy heart, the decision he has to make is almost clear.

“It isn't your fault. Don't apologise.” You whisper, curled into his arms.

“It is. It's all my fault. I got you involved in this,” He utters, as though the admission is poison on his tongue.

“I’m not a good person. I have a horrible family, and he’ll want me to do horrible things, and I’ll have to do them.” He admits, voice breaking.

“No, you don’t. I’m here. I love you, Theodore. I won’t ever leave, and I swear you won’t deal with that alone.” You repeat, voice laced with conviction.

“I'm beyond help. Don’t give your heart to me.” He croaks.

You lift your head up from where it was resting, eyes gazing directly into his. You remain silent for a beat, then two, before you speak.

“I already have.” You respond.

Theodore should feel relief at those words, but he doesn't. Rather, he feels sick. Because he can’t, he won't risk you getting hurt again. He kisses you and pulls you back in, laying next to one another as he wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly, if only for one last night.

Because there was only one thing Theodore could do to make sure his father would never hurt you again.

He had to leave you.

[st4rr-girrl]

Stranger

M.R

Summary; You thought Mattheo was different, but he’s just like everyone else.

Warnings; swearing, mentions of sex, nsfw, underage smoking & drinking, angst. Douchebag Mattheo.

Inspired by Stranger - By Jhene Aiko

I ain’t posted in hella long im sorry if u thought I was dead xox 🥰🥰😘💋💋💋

Pt 2

We at 700+ followers yall!! I love u guys 🥺🥺💋❤️❤️

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

You tried to ignore the familiar feeling you would get each time you were around Mattheo. The stinging that tickled your irises each time you started to view him in a new light, each time you saw everybody else in his features.

Why was this such a common occurrence during the span of your relationship? You and Mattheo never talked, and if you did- it was only in bed. It was exhausting and you couldn't deny that.

He was starting to look more and more like the people who had used you in the past. The ones who discarded your well-being for their own sick pleasure. You stared at him from across the Slytherin table, an inexplainable sadness etched onto your tired features.

Mattheo was the last person you expected to turn out like a copy and paste of your past experiences.

It wasn’t always like this. He used to be lovingly attentive, affectionate and gentle with you.

He noticed your gaze, his brow arching in silent question. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, forcing your eyes off of him. He shrugged dismissively, recentering his attention to the conversation he was in the midst of.

What hurt even more, was the fact that you had told him about the others. Every single one of them that he had promised you he wasn’t like. And you trusted him.

But he lied.

He didn’t care. He never did. And if that information wasn’t crystal clear, you didn’t know what was.

Daphne nudged your side, her brows furrowing in concern as she scanned your melancholic features. “You alright, lovely?” She asked gently.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice quieter and shakier than you had intended— blinking back the tears that threatened to escape your glossy eyes. “I’m okay.”

She gave you an unbelieving look, but decided against being pushy. “Okay, babe. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” She offered a soft smile, her brows furrowing.

“Sure,” you replied, a grateful tone to your voice as you nodded.

She went back to chatting with Pansy, and you found your regretfully longing gaze flickering back to Mattheo. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Because it did. It hurt so bad.

He wasn’t paying you any mind, blatantly unconcerned despite the sadness he found in your expression. He boasted about something or other to Theo and Blaise— both of the boys watching him verbally show off in amusement. Usually, you would have been fond of the sight. He was an idiot, but he was your idiot. Or— well, he was.

It was routine for you now. This wasn’t your first rodeo— you knew how this worked.

So, the same night— when he laid you down in your dorm room, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. Not that he cared, or anything.

And when he left, you lied in bed— your gaze locked onto the ceiling. You’d lazily thrown a t-shirt and underwear back on— Mattheo nowhere to be seen. He didn’t even have the decency to stay back and make sure you were okay, and help clean you up. Not like he used to, anyways.

The hickeys and bite marks littering your skin were a constant reminder of what once was. Shame engulfed your body, an all too familiar feeling.

You couldn’t control the tears beginning to spill from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks in a rapid manner. You broke down, your body wracking with sobs— burying your face into a pillow to muffle said sobs.

When your roommates walked in, Daphne and Pansy, they immediately saw your state— rushing to your sides and consoling you as you fell apart. They shared a worried glance, knowing exactly what— or in this case, who— caused this.

Over the next few days, you’d been avoiding him. Daphne and Pansy both covered for you, giving Mattheo bullshit and half assed excuses as to why you couldn’t see him.

But, it’s not like he was actively searching for you, anyways.

You thought you were indifferent to this by now. You wanted to be. But you actually trusted him this time, you loved him.

But as you stared at him from across the Potions classroom, watching as he flirted shamelessly with girls who hung onto his every word— you knew you’d never become accustomed to the hurt and pain that followed betrayal.

You knew you had to cut things off, and that’s exactly what you did. You couldn’t allow yourself to mope around aimlessly for any longer.

After class, you pulled him into an empty hallway and went off— cussing him out in an emotion fueled rant. He got what he wanted, and he no longer needed you. He made that very obvious.

He replied with a simple, “okay,” before turning and disappearing down the hallway. You watched as he left, the sound of your heart shattering echoing throughout your own ears.

———-

[sunkissedscribbles]

Do You Still Care?

pairing: bf!mattheo x fem!gryffindor!chaser!reader

genre: angst

tw: mental health issues on y/n’s side (briefly) mentioned, mention of sex, swearing

word count: 5112

summary: mattheo’s plan to see if you still care backfires completely and ends with a breakup, but are you two able to resolve what's gone wrong?

Songs: the way i loved you - taylor swift (lyrics used), scared of my guitar - olivia rodrigo

a/n: thanks for the help @inksoakedparchment <3

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

The promise ring landed on the cold stone flooring of the Slytherin common room with a metallic clink as you dropped the silver jewellery to catch Mattheo’s attention. You were both disappointed and frustrated with him because the last thing you thought you’d see when stepping into the Slytherin commons was a girl, clearly not you, sitting in your boyfriend’s lap.

Mattheo, clearly enjoying himself as he had his hands on the girl’s waist, turned his head to look at you. The shine left his eyes as they met yours, but his gaze soon dropped to the ring he bought you for your second anniversary, which was now on the floor. It stirred something in him, even the thought of it not being on your finger, where it belonged didn’t sit right in him. But he had to hide his pain. He knew he couldn’t break now.

Your facial muscles hardened as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, eyeing your boyfriend angrily, the girl in his lap oblivious to everything around her as all she cared about was that she got the privilege of touching Mattheo Riddle.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you exclaimed coldly, closing off the emotions and locking them up before they could overtake you. If he plays the indifferent, so are you.

This snapped Mattheo out of his trance as he realized he took it too far, and that his plan backfired. “What? No, Y/N, you can’t just say that-“

“Well, yeah, I can,” you spat and shook your head as you eyed the girl from a year below you in his lap and with a scoff, you added, “We’re over, Mattheo.”

“No, you’re overreacting,” he practically pushed the girl off his lap as he got up to be at eye level with you. Walking up to you, he took the promise ring from the floor and held it up for you between his thumb and index fingers. “We’re good together, princess. I love you, you love me. You can’t break up with me,” he shook his head as he tried to hold a desperate sound back, trying hard to maintain this cold facade he mastered throughout the years — the one he only let fall completely when he was around you.

You pushed his hand with the ring away as you spoke up angrily, “But I’m not going to be a second choice every time you see a pretty girl!” and without warning, you turned around and walked out of the common room.

He was still shocked as he stared at your ring between his fingers. This was a stupid game, he shouldn’t have done this. You were his first real girlfriend. The first serious relationship and the last he wanted to ever end. Why did he flirt with a girl in the first place even? It was because you two had been arguing a lot lately, which only resulted in your relationship becoming more of a competition of who can shut down more and keep the indifferent, cold act up. You needed time because it had always been hard for you to express your feelings the moment they appeared — you needed to digest them and let them digest you before you could finally get them off your chest in one way or another. But the more you kept it for yourself the more he thought you were falling out of love with him and didn’t care about him anymore. That’s why he came up with this idea; to make you jealous to see if you did still care. He was only now thinking about how he should’ve given you the time you needed to open up.

You hadn't even talked to him for weeks, trying to push the pain of the breakup down by focusing on other things: your studies, friends, yourself and you were working on erasing Mattheo from your life. And how could you make yourself forget about that twat? By replacing him.

Not the most logical thing to do, for sure and it only complicated things even more, but you got together with Michael Corner from Ravenclaw. It wasn't quite a mature thing to do, especially when Michael did actually have feelings for you and you knew how you'd regret this later because it could only end in pain on one of your side. Because if he found out you — let's be real — used him, he'd get heartbroken and angry. But if he didn't find out, you'd be unhappy with him which he probably wouldn't even notice. So, this is how you got yourself trapped in this vicious circle.

Mattheo, on the other hand, had been acting like a complete douchebag since you'd broken up with him. Not that he had been that nice before. But now the number of the fights he got himself into had severely increased, he started acting colder than anytime else before, and he started looking through you like you weren't even there. He also lost interest in his studies almost completely, his marks dropping lower and lower each day. Or, well, his enquiry had decreased to practising the jinxes and hexes he'd learnt on other students, and getting rid of his excess energy and frustration on the Quidditch pitch. Each and every time he saw you, it just annoyed him so much. He didn't like you with this new other guy, he hated how you seemed to enjoy your life without him so easily. He despised Michael, hated the way he talked with that stupid Welsh accent, and how he always seemed to have his goddamn hand on your waist, right where he had his when you two were together. No one other than him had the right to touch you, in his opinion, and he couldn't stand the mental image of you with someone else. He missed seeing the way your face lit up every time you got excited about something, he missed how your pretty eyes were sparkling and shining when you looked at him. He missed you, and how it had been before things started going spiralling down with all those many and frequent arguments lately. He was miserable and as much as it is selfish, he wanted you to feel just as bad.

But leading the word back to you, erasing him from your life had been harder than you make it seem to be. But knowing his grades were dropping and seeing him acting like a total arse to everyone all you could think of is how this all is your fault, how you were the source of causes behind him changing this seriously.

By the time the day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match came, students were betting on either team or even making it complicated as "Potter will catch the Snitch but Slytherin will win." Of course, they were; every year this is the biggest match between all houses since the rivalry is the worst between these two houses. It's even worse than a World Cup — it's like boys comparing their sizes. It's no different this year either. The Beaters aren't playing as 'nicely' as they do against Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff — they don't only hit the Bludgers with their bats but the Beaters, and occasionally, the Chasers of the opposing team, too, and the Chasers go on the speed they normally would.

You were manoeuvring with the Quaffle in your hand across the field while Mattheo tried to take you down by crossing your way. Yes, he wanted to win and wanted you to lose for once but despite being as angry and frustrated with you, he couldn't bring himself to tackle you down with a Bludger. How could he? Yes, you broke up with him but that doesn't mean anyone can hurt you. You are his princess, Merlin forbid anyone touching you.

"Twat," you muttered to yourself as Mattheo passes you by, but then set off with greater speed to score another against Slytherin, making it 140-100 for Gryffindor. Soon, Slytherin scored too, as Theo got the Quaffle in his hands, but as you set off to get the ball back, a Bludger coming from Goyle hit your broom. This caused you to lose your balance and your grip on the broom handle.

Mattheo watched in horror as you were hanging from your broom, in the air, among the flying balls and students. His mind immediately went blank as he witnessed the scene before his eyes and he forgot all about the game. Without thinking about it any further, he set off in your direction instantly and wrapped an arm around your waist to save you from falling, and before you’d known, you were sitting behind him on the broom.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“Making sure you don’t fall, you idiot,” he exclaimed, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest as you held onto him tight. Merlin, he missed your body close to his so much.

“Thanks,” you muttered reluctantly, trying to push down ann the feelings that lingered in you for him still.

“Don’t mention it,” he shook his head with a cold tone as he took you to the ground to get your broom back from where it’d fallen. He didn’t want to let go of you, he wanted you to stay pressed up against him, just to feel your arms around him, your warm breath tickling the soft skin of his neck. But he knew he had to let go. You have moved on, you don’t even talk.

Muttering another ‘Thanks’ when you got off from behind him, you went to grab the broomstick. He hopped off his broom too, watching as your delicate figure walked away from him frustratedly, trying to keep up the image that this hadn’t affected him at all, which took him back to how much he hated your new boyfriend. He was supposed to be your boyfriend, you two should’ve lived happily ever after like you two had dreamed.

And now, after the brief moment together, he hated the Ravenclaw boy even more.

“Don’t forget the game is still going on. Or are you worried about your little boyfriend seeing us together?” the mocking words rolled off his tongue without him even thinking about what he was saying.

Your blood boiled at his comment, but when your eyes flickered to the Ravenclaw stands, seeing Michael in all Gryffindor colours, you somehow didn’t feel guilty for the Ravenclaw boy witnessing this scene with you and your ex-boyfriend. “Jealous?” You spat at Mattheo and rolled your eyes, gripping your broomstick.

He let out a sarcastic scoff and following suit, he rolled his eyes. “Jealous? Of the nerd?”

Of course he was jealous, but he couldn’t possibly admit it. This was a game of who is the most stubborn to admit their true feelings. And he wasn’t going to lose. But it took everything in him not to just push you back to the ground, climb on top of you and fuck kiss you until you forget your goddamn boyfriend’s name.

“Yeah. Jealous ‘cause I’m with him?” You stepped back. Michael is a nice guy, you had to give him that. But he’s not Mattheo. Michael wasn’t by far the one you wanted, not who you loved. He didn’t have those mesmerizing chocolate eyes that stared into your soul and shined when he was looking at you, he didn’t have the dark curls you instinctively raked your fingers through after a long day when he was lying on top of you, using your breasts as a pillow and listening to your heartbeat like it was a music you composed only for him.

His eyes remained on you, and that little statement made him snap on an instant. He threw his broom onto the ground to be able to step closer and pull you in by the waist and flush your body against his. By this time, he had completely forgotten about the match going on — not that you had thought about that at this moment either. It was just the two of you again, even if just for a moment, even if it was only arguing with your ex-boyfriend. “Damn right, I’m jealous. He gets to touch you. He gets to kiss you. I hate it.”

“He can see this. Us. Everyone can,” you instinctively gripped onto his upper arms as your bodies stayed pressed against each other while glaring into his eyes. You couldn’t deny that you missed this closeness with him. Because your heart still only desired him and had no space for anyone else in it.

Mattheo glanced around, seeing the people and players looking at the two of you. But he didn’t actually give a damn about that right then. He was completely focused on you, his eyes burning with jealousy and a hint of desire. His hands remained on your waist as he wanted nothing more than to just kiss you without a care in the world about the public. “Do I look like I care?”

“No. We both know that’s not something you normally do,” you freed yourself from his grip as you made the snarky comment about the girl in his lap before grabbing your broom again and setting off to continue the match. How dare he come at you with how jealous he is after what he’d done? Bloody git.

The team was cheering after Harry had caught the Snitch, right when Katie scored through a hoop one last time, making the final score 340-250 for Gryffindor. When Crabbe’s Bludger hit you and you fell off your broom, leading to the ominous conversation with Mattheo, the Gryffindor team lost you, a damn good Chaser for enough time for Slytherin to win over the points, so when Crabbe scolded Mattheo for technically saving you, no one was surprised.

The stout boy yelled after Mattheo, who was currently leaving the pitch, enraged. “What the fuck was that?” Crabbe echoed, following the curly-haired boy. “It’s our job to get those bloody Gryffindors off their brooms and I had Y/L/N! She’s the best Chaser on that fucking team! Without her, we would’ve won! But you had to go and save her like the damn Prince Charming you are?!”

Mattheo clenched his jaw as Crabbe shouted at him, his arms crossed against his chest. He knew that Crabbe was right. It wasn’t his smartest move to save your ass, but deep down he also knew that no one should harm you. He was not losing you.

“So what? You want me to let you take her down or something? And yes, I’m the one to save her because she’s the only goddamn person worth saving in this whole world.”

You overheard his words and your whole body froze. Suddenly, all other noises, your team’s and the other students’ happy cheers were tuned out, you could only hear Mattheo’s words repeating in your head. Your heart was already pumping ten times faster, and stronger as well, you could hear the drum, the fast da-dum in your ears. The only person worth saving? You?

“Fuck, mate! What happened to the dickhead you’ve been since you two broke up?” Crabbe continued spitting in Matt’s face. “I started to think you got some sense when she dumped you! She’s just a dumb Gryffindor who likes being the centre of attention, dude, grow up! She’s not like us, not worth your time! Just some basic ass bitch — but she’s fuckable, I give you that”

Mattheo could feel his anger and rage building within him, but he tried to keep his cool, knowing that if he snapped, there would be no stopping him. He glanced in your direction, seeing you standing in the distance, watching him and Crabbe. He clenched his jaw as Crabbe called you a 'dumb Gryffindor', as he said you’re not worth his time. But the last comment, about you only being some nice piece of meat, made him snap. He suddenly sprang closer to Crabbe and pushing him against the wall of the changing rooms, Mattheo pinned him the boy twice his size there, relentlessly gripping his Quidditch robes.

“Shut your goddamn mouth, you piece of shit,” he spat at Crabbe. “You don't even know her. You don't have the right to talk about her, you don't have the right to say her name! And if you dare talk about her like that again, I will tear you limb from limb!” he growled at the other boy in a low voice, his eyes darkened by anger and rage.

“Aw, Riddle, you gone soft for her. Is shagging her this nice?” Crabbe, being taller and bigger in a sense that’s not muscle mass laughed at Mattheo with a grin, not realizing the next thing Mattheo would do for sure was breaking his nose.

But before he could have done any damage to the boy, you pulled Mattheo away, knowing there would be nothing that could stop him from potentially sending Crabbe into a coma and himself in detention. For you. Because of you. Again.

When your hands grabbed onto his biceps to pull him back, his fingers instinctively softened on the fabric of Crabbe’s robes, knowing your touch like the back of his palm. He felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him as you held onto him and pulled him back, the urge to spin around and kiss you growing stronger than any, but he was still too pissed over Crabbe’s words.

“He’s not worth it. Just some douchebag,” you muttered to Mattheo when he started to try to escape your arms, Theo helping you by using a muting charm on Crabbe in order to keep him from saying anything else that would anger Mattheo even further. Partly angrily, you shoved him under a rain of cold water in the changing rooms to have him come to his senses, still in your Quidditch robes.

The cold shower snapped him out of the haze of anger Crabbe’s words put him into, his breathing returning back from feral to normal as he faced you in the shower, his hair soaking wet and his robes already dripping too — your clothes were somewhat damp as well by that time. “I’m not sure if I would’ve been able to stop myself back there,” he shook his head slightly.

“I know,” you just nodded, while in an internal fight between love and hate where you had no idea which one to let win.

Mattheo, knowing you more than anyone else, instantly knew what you were thinking, now that he was finally focusing on you and not on keeping the cold facade up in front of you. He could feel his dark curls stick to his forehead as they were soaking wet, still standing under the cold water. He looks at you for a moment before speaking up. “Just scream at me. Shout whatever you want.”

You wanted to scream, and shout, just like he had told you to. But you knew you had to stay away from him emotionally because it would only lead to you breaking down in front of him, which would probably end in a position with him that would be considered cheating on Michael. Your boyfriend. Mattheo wasn’t your boyfriend anymore, for fuck’s sake!

You shook your head. “No,” you scoffed and turned the water off before taking a step back. “Thanks for defending me. And saving my ass. But we’re over,” you said, your demeanour cold and distant as you turned around and walked away.

Mattheo's eyes widened in shock as he heard you say you were over, again. The panic and pain that washed over him got the best of him and quickly grabbed your arm again and turned you around, forcing you to face him again. He didn't want to lose you completely, not like this, not because of his own stupidity. "You don't mean that," he shook his head as he spoke up in desperation.

"Yes, I do," you scoffed angrily. No, in fact, you did not mean it at all. "You were openly flirting with that Slytherin, she was looking at you like she had given you head earlier! Oh, or had she? Why did you go and have to do that?"

Mattheo's expression turned from desperate to frustrated in no time as he clenched his jaw. He took a step closer to you, his voice growing more agitated. "Damn, Y/N, I was just messing around, I-"

"Messing around?" you cut in with an irritated scoff, covering the pain of betrayal. "When you had a girlfriend? Are you insane?" you pushed him back to make him stumble a bit and let go of your arm, on the verge of crying out of frustration and hurt.

At your refusal to trust him, his frustration and annoyance only grew, showing in a sigh and a scowl as you pushed him away. "I've never done anything with her! I would never do anything with her, Y/N. I don't want anyone else but you, don't you get that?"

"I don't care! I don't want someone who's doing things behind my back! Next time you get someone pregnant and tell me you were only messing around?!" you shook your head as the first set of tears started running down your cheek.

Mattheo felt his anger being replaced by a sense of shock and pain as he got accused of ever being able to cheat on you. "Damn it, Y/N, I'd never do anything with anyone else! I just... I just wanted to get a reaction out of you."

"Why?" you ran a frustrated hand through your hair while shaking your head. You started to lose it, not understanding the situation by now.

"Because I'm a moron, okay?" he scoffed bitterly. "Because I knew you'd get jealous if you saw me like that. We were falling out and I wanted to see if you still cared!" he spilt, to which a gobsmacked and frustrated expression got painted on your face. He thought you stopped caring about him?

I mean, sure, you two had started falling out and you two did argue a lot in the past month or two, but it wasn't at all because you didn't care about him anymore. You just couldn't quite word what was happening inside you. And right when you were finally ready and stepped into the common room to fill him in and come clean, he was sitting there, on the couch with another girl in his lap.

Suddenly the few little tears turned into rivers as fat drops rushed down both your cheeks, out of all the anger, frustration, sadness and disappointment that have built up in the past few weeks. You backed off, towards the door but as he saw you do that with the heavy rain of tears that were streaming down your face, his eyes welled up as well and he warily took a step closer to you to pull you into a tight embrace while muttering "No, no, no, don't cry." You gave in to the similarity of his touch and leaned into it for a second before coming to your senses and pulling away, knowing Michael was waiting for you outside.

Mattheo watched you suddenly abort the physical contact between the two of you, his expression quickly changing to confusion and disappointment as you stepped back. He didn't have to see the boy to know the reason behind your motions. "No, wait," he reached out and grabbed your wrist to turn you around with a desperate voice and a pleading tone. "Don't go. Please, don't go with him."

"I have to," you replied as you were forced to look into his eyes but you couldn't mask the pain anymore. "He's my boyfriend."

Those words felt like a punch to the gut for Mattheo, shattering the remains of his heart into a million little pieces. Hearing you call Michael Corner your boyfriend caused a wave of pain and anger to course through his veins. He clenched his jaw, his grip on your wrist only growing firmer the more desperate he became. "You don't have to, that's the point. You're with me, not him. You're mine, not his."

Your blood boiling, you freed your wrist from his tight grip exasperatedly. "You don't fucking own me, Mattheo Thomas Riddle"

"Damn it, I know I don't! I never said that. But we belong together, Y/N/N. You know you don't love him. Not like you love me."

He dares to call you by your nickname?

"Unfortunately," you spit, "that's not your fucking business anymore."

This is how we get to the present day. You broke things off with Michael yesterday after guilt got too much for you to handle, after realizing you can't possibly keep stringing him along like some dog, you can't use him to drown the feelings you have for Mattheo. And this is why you are currently in the music room on the fifth floor. It has always been like some sort of shelter for you. It's never judged, had a piano you played with preference and you could just sit down and live up to your artistic skills. You wrote your poems and songs here.

Mattheo knows. Not about the break-up but how much time you spend in this classroom. He sometimes accompanied you as well, while you two were together. So, when he doesn't find you in your room after hearing you ended things with Michael, this is where he looks for you.

You're sitting by the piano, playing the instrument in question, singing something you wrote a few days prior. And Mattheo's only watching, standing by the door, listening to your beautiful, usually soothing but now oh-so-troubled voice, paying attention to how your delicate fingers dance over the keys.

"...He can't see the smile I'm faking And my heart's not breaking 'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all And you were wild and crazy Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated Got away by some mistake and now

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain It's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name I'm so in love that I acted insane And that's the way I loved you Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller coaster kind of rush And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you..."

It's a gasp that snaps you out of the song and your focus is instantly shifted the moment you turn to look at the person the sound came from, and you find yourself facing Mattheo. He's feeling guilty, but then again, the knowledge that you miss him makes him feel proud and a strange sense of happiness flows through him. It fills him with the hope that maybe, just maybe there is a chance to make this thing work between the two of you.

"Are you following me?" you ask, scoffing as you shut your feelings out again when looking at him.

"Maybe I am," he admits with a shrug, trying to feign nonchalance. He glances at the piano before shifting his attention back to you, and saying, "heard you playing."

"No shit, Sherlock," you bark bark back at him.

"This was about me, wasn't it?" he steps to the piano and looks down at you after closing the door.

"About comparing you and Michael," you correct him.

"And what's the point in that?"

"To remind myself how I love an obnoxious prick instead of someone who's kind and caring," you roll your eyes.

Mattheo scowls at your insult and crosses his arms defensively. "I'm not obnoxious. I'm not going to pretend to be someone else to fit your definition of 'kind' and 'caring.'"

"I miss my Mattheo," you exclaim coldly. "" Who was like that, with me. Who didn't try to make me jealous because he was fucked in the head and thought I didn't care!"

He sighs in frustration, running his hand through his hair. "I still am that Mattheo. I never stopped being him. I was just trying to get a reaction out of you, to see if you cared at all. Nothing with that girl was serious."

You scoff. "And now you expect me to just forgive and forget for choosing not to talk about the very obvious problem but to go the easier way?"

Exasperated by the conversation, he shakes his head. "No. No, I don't expect you to do that so easily. I know what I did was wrong, okay? I know I messed up. But I was angry and frustrated because we were fighting almost every day for weeks and you weren't making it any easier by not telling me about how you were feeling. I-I was worried about you and then I was worried for us, for the future we've planned. I acted unreasonably and the next thing I know is you taking your ring off and me losing you because of my own stupidity."

Taken aback, you shake your head with thoughts of all kinds going through your head. He still loves you, how could you deny him? "I told you I had something going on that I wasn't able to talk about yet," you shake your head.

"I know. I know and I'm sorry. I should've given you the time and I should've been patient. But I feared I was losing you," he lets out a guilty, ragged breath. "I'm not begging you, but I'm not giving up on you, on us either. I'm sorry, I miss you," he says, tapping his fingertips on top of the piano as he looks down at you.

Letting out a relieved sigh at hearing the genuineness of his tone and words, you get up from the instrument and step toward him, taking his hand in yours, thus making both of your hearts skip a beat before they start to beat more rapidly. The truth is, you don't think he could ever do anything that'd make you stop loving him.

"I'm sorry and I miss you too," you reply softly, making him smile while the shine returns to his chocolate eyes as he looks at you. He reaches into his pocket, then holds the promise ring you've taken off out for you. He's been having it in his pocket since that day, and on his nightstand at night. "May I?"

With a small yet genuine smile, you nod and hold your hand out for him, and after returning it to where it belongs, he kisses your hand gently. "I'll never let you go again."

"You better."

taglist: @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @reys-letters

[suugarbabe]

[Chapter 7]

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: SMUT, dom!reader, sub!mattheo, male!masterbation, 18+ content below the cut, MDNI!!

Warmth. That’s what you felt pressed against your back and across your middle as you slowly started to blink your eyes awake. You were confused at first, thinking maybe you were dreaming the sensations that you felt, but looking down at your waist and seeing the tattooed hand that was splayed across your stomach confirmed: Mattheo had stayed through the night. You stretched your arms out in front of you, stretching out your muscles from sleep and the other previous nights activity.

Mattheo must have thought you were trying to get up from the action, his arm that was wrapped around you instinctively pulling you closer to his chest. His face burrowed into your neck, breath fanning against your skin as his breathing stayed even. You allowed him to embrace you a little longer, getting lost in your thoughts, thinking about what everything in the last 12 hours meant. Were you and Mattheo together now, like officially together? Would he tell the others? Were you even allowed to talk about it? You tried your best to fall back asleep, if only until Mattheo woke up, but your mind wasn’t slowing down.

Reluctantly peeling his arm from you slowly, you slipped from the bed, putting on your slippers and heading down to the kitchen. You knew Gimball would make your morning tea for you if you asked, he often makes it for you before you even wake up, but he must have known not to do that this morning. You also didn’t have a house elf at your old place, and you liked the routine of doing some things for yourself still.

As if he expected the change in routine, you walked into the kitchen to see Gimball working on breakfast, but your favorite mug and tea bag sitting on the counter while a kettle was on the stove. “How did you know I’d be down here, Gimball?” You questioned the small elf playfully. Without ceasing his movements he replied to your question, “Gimball knows many things Miss Birdie, especially that Master Mattheo does not like to be disturbed in the mornings.” You smiled at this, cheeks tinting the slight pink at the realization that Gimball knew Mattheo was in your room. Ripping open the teabag and placing it in your mug, you tied the string to the handle before walking over to the whistling kettle.

“You’ve known Mattheo a long time, hmm?” You asked it as if you hadn’t seen into Mattheo’s memories, wanting to see what the elf might say. With a snap of his fingers an array of plates and kitchenware appeared on the large center island, “Gimball has been with the Riddle family for three generations, he remembers Master Mattheo’s birth, taught him his schooling. Master Mattheo is a good man, good man Miss Birdie.” You hummed in acknowledgement, smiling as you poured the hot water into your mug, “Was he good in school?”

You were just fishing for any knowledge about him now, anything you knew he probably wouldn’t tell you, at least not right now. Gimball nodded as he set up all the breakfast food and teas for everyone, “Oh yes, Master Mattheo is very smart, very smart indeed. Very observant, but I’m sure Miss Birdie has already come to knowledge of that.” You huffed out a laugh, nodding your head, “Oh yeah, almost too observant for his own good if you ask me.” Gimball let himself smile at your statement, something you didn’t see him do often. With another snap of his fingers, the food arrangement disappeared from the center island. You knew it was now on the large dinning room table, awaiting everyone in the house as they individually made their way down.

Gimball looked at you again, “Master cares very deeply about Miss Birdie.” You nodded your head, “I know Gimball, he really looks at us like a family. It’s a nice feeling.” Gimball shook his head, waving his small finger in the air, “No, Miss Birdie misunderstands Gimball. His care for her is different than the others. Master Mattheo is not always good with his words. Sometimes he cannot express how he feels properly. Master was not allowed to say his feelings when he was little.”

You opened your mouth to ask him to explain further, to tell you what he meant by his last few statements but the opening of the kitchen door caught your attention. You turned at the intrusion, only to see Mattheo standing in the doorway, now completely clothed for the day in a pair of black slacks and a white button up rolled to the elbows, displaying the veins and tattoos that decorated his forearms. You were clearly gawking and if Mattheo noticed (which he probably did) he was polite this morning and chose not to acknowledge the fact.

“What’re you doing in here?” was his question instead. You turned back around, only to see Gimball had apparated away. Turning back to Mattheo you held your mug up to your lips, taking a small sip, “Tea.” He quirked an eyebrow, “You know Gimball would’ve made that for you.” You nodded, “I know, but I like to do it myself sometimes.” Mattheo held the door open for you to exit, following close behind you as you did so. “You left me this morning, woke up to an empty bed and pillows that smelled like you,” he whispered in your ear, giving your hip a light squeeze. You smirked at this, not being able to help your quip back, “Mmm, what a bummer of a feeling. Thankfully I was still in the house and you didn’t wake up like that only to find me gone for days on end.”

Mattheo’s eyebrows shot up, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek as he suppressed a smirk. “We’ve got an attitude this morning I see,” he spoke as he sat down next to you at the table. You shook your head, “I would never get an attitude with you, Mattheo.” He huffed out a small laugh then, pilling food onto his plate and choosing not to respond. Soon the others started to trail in, thankfully most of them still in their sleepwear making you not feel like the only one.

Once finished with breakfast Mattheo placed a small kiss on your temple, stating he needed to go to the club early to take care of a few things before the night started. He took Pansy and Draco with him, leaving you at the table with Blaise, Theo and Enzo. The three wore devious smirks, Enzo’s eyes down at his plate avoiding yours. Theo, however, had no shame, pointing his fork at you while he talked, “So, sorella, have a good night?” You glared at him, “Fine, thanks.” Theo gave you a knowing look, “Enjoy it with anyone else?”

This question caused Enzo to choke slightly on his sip of orange juice, the other two men not holding back their laughter. “Serves your right, Enzo,” you stated harshly. The lanky man held up his arms, “Hey, I never said anything!” You rolled your eyes, “But you were smirking like you thought you knew something and obviously agree with Teddy.” Blaise tapped his fork on his glass, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Alright alright, lets stop teasing the poor girl. If anything did happen, which were not saying it did,-”

“or didn’t!” Theo pointed out. Blaise nodded, “Or didn’t,” you rolled your eyes, “can we all just agree that tonight is going to be interesting as hell. Well for us,” he gestured between himself and Theo and Enzo, “maybe not for you, Birdie.” You furrowed your brows in confusion, not understanding the implications of his statement. “Why is tonight going to be interesting for everyone but me, Blaise? What’s happening?” Theo couldn’t stop himself from laughing, clutching his stomach and rearing back in his seat. Enzo gave you a sad smile, “Because there’s a new dancer coming tonight. The one you covered for quit and Pansy said the new one is coming for her first shift this evening.”

You shrugged your shoulders, stuffing another piece of fruit in your mouth, “Okay, so? I don’t care about that. I only danced that one time because Mattheo said I couldn’t. I like bartending with you Enzo. Why would a new dancer make me upset?” Theo leaned both elbows on the table, clasping his hands in front of him as his tilted his head to the side, “Because this girl is proper fit, like, thank you fucking Salazar fit.” You rolled your eyes, “Again…so? All the dancers are fit, Teddy. You’re just a horndog.” Blaise jumped in, “Mattheo used to have a reputation…with dancers.” You stiffened slightly, but waved your hand telling him to continue, “It’s stopped since you came around, for some reason,” he raised his eyebrows slightly, “Everyone’s just curious to see how it will go.”

You placed your fork on your place, dabbing your lips with the napkin from your lap before standing, “Mattheo’s a big boy. I don’t control him, he can do what he wants. Like I said, there’s nothing going on between us, I’m just like the rest of you guys to him.” Theo snorted at this, while Enzo groaned. Blaise just shrugged his shoulders, “Whatever you say, Birdie. Just know if you feel like fighting, I’m on your side.” You couldn’t help but laugh at everyone’s dramatic reactions, “Thank you, Blaise, but I’m sure that wont be necessary. Everything’s going to be fine.”

And it appeared so for the first few hours you were at the club. You and Enzo worked together restocking the bar while Blaise and Theo sat on the stools, going over plans for different ‘business trips’ and other ordeals. You didn’t push it, but did try to sneak a glance or two at what they were working on. You had grown apparently too close to Theo those few days because he immediately caught you. Giving you a playful scolding for even trying.

Nothing seemed a bother until you went to put up two new bottles of rum and nearly slammed into the side of Enzo. “What are you-” you went to question but Enzo’s large hand palmed the top of your head like a basketball and turned it until your line of vision was the same as his. Immediately you felt like your body was on fire with rage.

Across the club Pansy was standing with Mattheo and a brunette woman. She was wearing what you would barely consider clothing in a skirt so short it was practically knickers and a top that was so small you figured there had to be a spell put on it for her breasts not to be spilling out. But that wasn’t even the bother as most of the dancers dressed in similar attire. What was bothering you was the way Mattheo was interacting with her.

It wasn’t like he was coming on to her, but it wasn’t like he was being her boss either. Though it was very apparent that she was coming on to him. Touching his arm, twirling her hair between her fingers, biting her lip. And Mattheo wasn’t helping, leaning slightly in to her touch, giving her a devilish grin. “What a fucking slag,” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them and Blaise nearly choked on his drink.

“Mattheo or Trixie?” Theo asked, knowing that using the girls name would probably instill more rage in you. Your eyebrows shot up, a scoff leaving your lips. Enzo groaned, “Oh c’mon, Nott. Don’t rile her up more.” You opened your mouth to respond but it only dropped further in shock when you saw Mattheo tuck a stray hair behind Trixie’s ear. The three boys followed your gaze, all beginning to mumble amongst themselves about how everything was going to play out.

Jealousy is a sexy look on you, Princess, Mattheo’s voice rang between your ears as your eyes snapped to meet his. The fucker had the audacity to smirk at you before giving his attention back to the girl. You slammed a glass down on the counter, not breaking it but definitely causing a sound loud enough for all eyes to turn to you. “Oi, watch it, Birdie. Do you have any idea how much those glasses cost?” You hadn’t noticed Draco walk up to the bar before your actions, too focused on the growing grin Mattheo wore at your increased rage.

Then an idea popped into your head, a definitive way to get back at Mattheo being a right prick. You walked from behind the bar, coming now to stand in front of Draco who only eyed you suspiciously. “Hi Dray,” your voice sickly sweet, “Have any dinner plans?” Draco looked to the other three boys, obviously asking for an explanation of your question. Theo rolled his eyes but Blaise only chucked, “She’s plotting something to get back at Riddle. Seems like your her pawn, Malfoy.”

Draco raised his eyebrows as he looked down at you, “This true, Darling? You trying to use me to get back at cousin? What’d he do- ohh, I see now.” Draco glanced over top of you at Mattheo still talking with Trixie, his focus slightly less strict now that he noticed you grab hold of Draco’s bicep. Meeting your eyes again Draco shrugged, “You know what, fuck it. Matt’s been a dick to me lately, serves him right.”

You sealed happily, clasping your hands together, “Seriously? Oh, Merlin, thank you so much!” You wrapped your arms around Draco’s middle, smushing your face into his upper abdomen. “Easy, there. Don’t want him to kill me before we get to the main event,” Draco joked. You pulled back, smile still evident. Enzo just shook his head, “You sure bout this, Angel?”

Nodding, you walked back round the bar, “Oh I’m sure. Wanna go around 9, Dray? There’s no way he’d leave in the middle of busy hours. You can handle the bar yourself tonight, right Enzie?” You turned to your friend with pleading eyes. Enzo nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll make Pansy help if needed.” You hugged Enzo now, who let out a low chuckle and patted your back.

“I’ll leave a dress for you in the dancers changing room, you’ll get dressed here and I’ll make sure he sees you before we leave,” Draco was looking down at his phone as he spoke. You nodded, “Okay, sounds good.” He sent you a wink before walking back towards the office. You looked at the clock, noting you had four hours to get through before you could implement your plan.

Those hours seemed to drag, Enzo constantly reminding you to not watch the clock and just work. When you saw it was 8:30 you gave Enzo’s arm a light squeeze to let him know you were going to get ready. In the changing rooms you saw a garment bag with your name etched on it. Always showing off money, huh, Draco, you thought in your head. Unzipping the bag your face was graced with a smirk. Inside hung a velvet ruched bodycon minidress in a deep emerald green. The chest a sweetheart neckline with a slightly deeper plunge.

Slipping it on you were delighted with the outcome. The dress contouring every curve of your body, hiding the insecure bits and accentuating your assets. Doing your hair in loose waves and applying some light makeup, you slipped on the black heels Draco had included and walked out of the changing room, nearly running into the one person you’d hoped would see you.

Grabbing hold of your waist, Mattheo eyed you questioningly, “Where do you think you’re going?” You rolled your eyes, which only irritated him further, “Don’t worry boss, I’m not dancing. I’m just going to dinner.” This didn’t make Mattheo stop worrying, if anything he worried further. “Dinner? With fucking who?”

“With me, cousin,” Draco walked into the hall, clad in a pair of sleek black trousers and a black button up, “My, my, you look ravishing, darling.” You peeled Mattheo’s hands from your hips, turning to the blonde boy now, “Thank you, Dray. You ready?” Draco nodded, holding out his arm for you to take. You looped your arm in his, glancing over to Mattheo once more to see his face in a deep scowl, jaw clenched. You smirked, flashing him a wink. Jealousy looks sexy on you, Matty, you thought to him just as Draco apparated to the restaurant.

As expected, dinner was wonderfully expensive and posh. Draco surprisingly keeping conversation with you quite well. You even complimented him on it, “I didn’t think I’d ever see this side of you Draco. It’s…nice.” Draco snorted slightly, “Figured I’d give an effort since you’re going to be my family one day.” You smiled, “Awh, aren’t we already family Dray? All playing house in that big manor?” Draco shook his head, smirking now, “I meant with what’s going on between you and cousin.”

You rolled your eyes, “Why does everyone keep saying shit like that? I’m sure he doesn’t treat me any differently than any of the other girls he’s shagged.” Draco’s grin grew two sizes, “So you guys have fucked? More than once or…?” You glared at him, “You’re insufferable.” The blonde just smiled more, “You know I’ve known him my whole life, seen him with a lot of girls, and I mean a lot of girls-” You cut him off quickly, “Thank you Draco, move on please.” He snickered lightly, “I’m just saying, I’ve never seen him act like he does with any other girl he’s been around except you. He’s kind of always seen women as a means to an end, like they’re just there for him when he wants them to be, then he can throw them away when he doesn’t.”

A frown painted your face, not wanting to see Mattheo in that kind of light, but knowing Draco was likely telling the truth. Draco continued, “He’s protective over you, not like he is with the rest of us. It’s like…possessive. Obsessed. He used to be really off the wall wild with every trip we made with the business, but now he’s doing more strategic planning, like he doesn’t want anyone to get in to much danger, like he has something to look forward to when he gets back.”

Your chest warmed with this new information, “You’re really close with him.” Draco nodded, “We were best mates growing up. Mum’s are sisters, but his was always off with his dad, you know him,” you nodded with a grimace, “so he would stay with my family a lot. Even had his own room at mine. I know we call each other cousin but he was practically a brother to me growing up, until I went away to school. His dad didn’t let him go to Hogwarts, wanting to train him like some sort of secret weapon for the war.” You nodded your head, remembering the memories you intruded on with Mattheo.

“He used to beg me to teach him everything I learned during summer Holiday. He caught on so fast too. Used to keep my old textbooks and practice with Gimball while I was away. When the war came he was really conflicted. Hell, we all were. I’m surprised you even came to the club after everything that happened. Didn’t you know…about us?” His question caught you a little off guard. Sure, you had known of Draco in school, he made it practically hard for someone not to know him. And you knew slightly of the others, just that they were similar to Draco, purebloods with family members that were devoted Dark Lord followers, but it had been a few years, everyone kind of grew up, looked a little different. Everyone but Draco, sticking still to his signature looks.

You shrugged, “I knew of the club, knew it was wizard ran, but I didn’t know by who. I definitely didn’t know you guys worked there. Had no real clue about Mattheo at all until Pansy told me. Voldemort definitely kept that secret well.” Draco nodded. You looked up from your plate now, meeting his eyes, “If Mattheo really saw me in the way you imply he does, why was he flirting with a dancer earlier today.” Draco’s lip twitched like he was holding back a smile, “Sometimes old habits die hard. Sometimes we get scared of the feelings we have because they happen so deeply, like nothing we’ve ever had before. And sometimes, when we’re especially stubborn, we just need someone to put us in our place. Take charge, so to speak, to prove to us that they reciprocate what we’re feeling, even to the deepest of depths.”

You quirked an eyebrow at his words, questioning if you were really understanding what he was saying. Draco sighed slightly, “I know Mattheo. I’ve seen him in many stages of life, many emotions, good and bad. He’s never allowed himself to feel as deeply about a person as he does for you because he knows once he starts falling, he’s never going to stop. If you feel the same, you have to show him. If you want what he wants, prove it to him. But you have to play his game. Don’t be a pawn, be a gamekeeper. Show him who’s boss, I’m sure he’s tired of the title.”

Draco paid the bill before taking you both back to the manor. Like a gentleman he walked you to the steps leading up to the rooms. “Thank you for tonight, Draco. It was lovely.” Draco smiled down at you, placing a friendly hand on your shoulder. He leaned in close, giving you a peck on your cheek and whispering in your ear, “Anytime darling.” He gave you a curt wink before walking toward his office on the main floor. You turned round, heading up the steps and walking into your room.

He had probably hoped to startle you, but you had almost expected him to be there waiting for you. “Have fun tonight, Princess? Fuck my cousin? Was he good?” You huffed a laugh, taking off your jewelry and setting it atop your dresser before turning to face him. “Don’t be brash, Mattheo,” you looked him over, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. His hair was disshelved like he’d been running his hands through it. Which he had been while waiting for you and Draco to come home. The thoughts in his mind spinning wildly about what could have happened.

You walked towards him across the room, him standing to meet you when you pushed him back down, crawling into his lap. “Draco and I just had dinner,” your fingers started to delicately undo the buttons of his shirt, all the way down before pushing it off his shoulders, “just like I said before we left.” He grunted, unconvinced, his hands going to your waist but you pushed them off, “I didn’t say you could touch me.” He tilted his head slightly, looking at you with a sly grin. You reached between your bodies, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding down the zipper.

You stood up then, Mattheo going to follow once more but you tsked at him, “Sit and take off your pants, briefs too,” you leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I want to see all of you, Matty. Can you do that? Can you be my good boy.” Mattheo felt his cock twitch at your words, at your directions. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he knew he wanted to find out. You walked back towards the bed, just a few feet away, slipping your dress off your shoulders to reveal your bare breasts and black thong to the man across from you.

Mattheo couldn’t help but groan at the site, his cock standing at attention as you slid your panties down your legs before you climbed onto the foot of the bed and turning to face him, legs spread open wide so he got a full view of your glistening cunt. Mattheo groaned at the sight. “You can touch yourself, Matty. Go on,” you encouraged and he followed directions, instantly grabbing hold of his thick cock and pumping himself, “Show me what you wish you were doing to me,” you let your hands cup your breasts, squeezing them lightly causing Mattheo to groan at the view, his eyes rolling, “because tonight you don’t get to touch me at all.”

His eyes shot open then, hand stilling on his length. You pouted at him, mocking his frown, “Don’t stop now, baby. I was enjoying the view.” You lightly slid your hand up the insides of your thighs, giving yourself goosebumps. Mattheo watched with hungry eyes as you took two fingers and glided them through your folds, coating your fingers in your slick before rubbing your clit lightly. “Keep touching yourself, baby, let me see you,” you started applying more pressure on your bundle of nerves, slight whimpers leaving your mouth as Mattheo started slowly guiding his hand up and down his length once more.

When you slid two fingers inside of yourself, eliciting a gasp from your lips you didn’t miss Mattheo’s low, “Fucking hell”, glancing a look at his desperate eyes. Pumping your fingers you couldn’t help but tease him more, “You’re being such a good boy for me, Matty. Oh, fuck, my fingers stretch me so good, but not as good as when I’m stretched around you, Oh, god, Mattheo.” Hearing his name fall from your lips while he watched you pleasure yourself was his idea of torture. Your hips bucked against your hand, your clit hitting your palm with every grind and building the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach, “Fuck, Matty, I wish I was about to come on your cock, but you just had to misbehave this afternoon, didn’t you?”

His nostrils flared at your words, speech stuttering as his thumb swiped over his slit, eyes glued to your fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, “I-I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t-”

“Shut up,” you moaned out, looking up to see himself pumping his cock faster. You could tell he was close by the amount of precum leaking from his tip. “Stop touching yourself,” you commanded. Mattheo groaned, but listened to instructions. When you saw he had stopped your bucked your hips faster, chasing your high until you were tumbling over the edge into your orgasm, “Fuck, oh fuck, yes.” Mattheo’s dick twitched at the sight of you coming undone, your thighs quaking, clamping shut on your hand as you rode out your high, still pumping your fingers in and out of yourself before you slowed down, catching your breath and making eye contact with him.

You slid your fingers from your cunt, your juices glistening to where Mattheo could see it across the room. “Come taste, baby,” you held your fingers out for him. Mattheo clambered over quickly, immediately latching his lips to your fingers, tongue swirling around your digits to get every last drop. His lips left your fingers with a pop, hands going to grab your thighs to spread them back open for himself. You slapped his hands away, scooting yourself backwards until you reached the head of the bed, leaning against the pillows.

You spread your legs wide, patting the space between them. “C’mere, Matty. Come sit right here, back to me.” Mattheo crawled over to you, lips quickly attaching to yours in a feverish kiss. His palm against your cheek and fingers splayed on the back of your neck holding you steady as his tongue explored your mouth, groaning at the taste of you still on his tongue. With all the mental strength you could muster you push him away, slapping his face lightly.

Immediately Mattheo started apologizing, “I’m so sorry, Princess, I couldn’t, fuck, I just couldn’t help myself.” You shook your head at his ramblings, making a spinning motion with your finger indicating to him to turn around and get in the position you instructed him to be in before. Mattheo turned around, lying against your chest. You delicately ran your nails along his thighs, his cock twitching at the action. “I was going to let you cum, maybe even help you, but you broke a rule.”

You grabbed Mattheo’s hand, guiding it back toward his aching cock. As he stroked himself again you ran your nails lightly up his sides, his muscles twitching in your wake. You continued to talk to him, tease him and get him further to the edge, “Last night you were so good to me, making me feel so full.” Mattheo let out a low groan as you trailed kisses along the side of his neck, his strokes becoming quicker, “Love it when you grip my thighs, spreading them open as you sink your big cock into my tight little cunt.”

Mattheo let out a shuddered breath as his thumb swiped over his tip. You grab his wrist then, stopping his movements. He let slip a pathetic whimper, begging you for release, “Fuck, please, Princess, I need to cum so bad.” His chest was heaving, head resting back against your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, “Do you deserve that, Matty? Do you deserve to cum after blatantly flirting with that fucking slag right in front of me, hmm?” Mattheo groaned, “Fucks sake, I said I was sorry, you went out with c-cousin I should be p-punishing you.”

He stuttered over his words as you raked your nails up his thighs again, massaging just near where he wanted your touch but not giving in. “We just had dinner, just talked. If you thought it was anything more you would’ve hurt him by now.” You released his wrist, allowing him to pleasure himself once more. “Go on, baby,” you wrapped one arm around his shoulders, the other grabbing hold of his hair, pulling his head back with force. “Tell me who you’re thinking about when you touch yourself, is it her or is it me?”

Mattheo let out a guttural moan, “Fuck, Princess, it’s you. O-only you.” You started kissing up his neck again, biting the taught skin before licking to soothe it, making sure to leave a few marks. “Every time I think of you, fuck, and now I have the image of your tight little cunt stretching around my cock so perfectly. I never want anything else, oh gods.” You could tell he was close now, hips bucking into his hand. You brought your lips close to his ear, breath ghosting over his skin, “Cum for me, baby. Be a good boy.”

At your command a deep grunt left his throat, hot ropes of white shooting from his tip and on to the duvet in front of him. Coming down from his high he relaxed into you further, chest heaving as his breathing slowly evened out. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his temple. “Fucking Salazar’s sake, Princess, you trying to kill me now, hmm?” You smiled into his skin, “You did this to yourself, sir.”

He smiled lightly, “I said I’m sorry, Princess. Merlin, if I'd known this is what would happen from some simple flirting I would’ve never started.” He turned round, resting his head on your chest now. You hummed lightly, “I think you more than liked what just happened.” Mattheo pinched the side of your bum lightly, causing you to squeal. He turned his head, resting his chin atop your chest before leaning up slightly and catching your lips in a chaste kiss one, two, three times before laying his head back down.

You stayed like that for a moment before he broke the silence, “The boys say I’m growing attached to you.” You smiled slightly, hands running through his messy curls, “Do you agree with them?” He nodded, “Scares me how much I care about you, Birdie.” You frowned slightly, though he couldn’t see it, “Why does it scare you?” His eyes fluttered shut, you playing with his hair soothing him. He slid his hands beneath the underside of your shoulders, holding you as close as possible, “Means I’ve got something to lose.”

[bunny-1111]

One step ahead - TN, enemies to lovers + academic rivals

Description: You and Theodore hate each other. Amidst exam season, was the tension and the teasing because of your rivalry or something else?

Word count: 1.2k

Authors Note: I'm backkkkkkkk, sorry for not being as active been so flat out, but this story came into my head, and I just couldn't resist

...

You glared at Theodore across your charms class, his gaze already haunting you before you could find his eye line.

It was always a competition; who would break away first, but he always won.

Regardless of being in the same friendship group, it did not affect your rivalry.

Since children, you hated everything about each other.

You hated how he strutted. You hated how he'd be so sure he was right about everything. You hated the way he flirted with every girl in Hogwarts, you hated how he'd always find a way out of trouble, regardless of always breaking the rules, You hated the way he sounded so sophisticated, even, if not, especially when he cussed.

He hated the way you'd smile, and get your every which way bewitching anyone with that stupid perfect mouth of yours. He hated how guys would kneel down to you, he hated how you always managed to hold such composure even when you were slaughtered drunk, how you fluttered your eyes up, and more than anything, he hated how he couldn't get rid of you, you lived in his mind, you danced in his head like a memory he couldn't shake.

As he made his way towards your desk, his face didn't budge, his expression curious, like he had planned what he was going to say before he even got to you.

he leaned over and inspected your grade, his arm leading awfully close to your hand, "One point behind me" he almost laughed

Your brows threatening to furrow, his lips threatening to smirk.

"Well, next quiz, you'll be two points behind me" you insisted

"Shame that's not true", he shrugged, "I'll always be one point and step in front of you." he practically gritted through his teeth

With that, the bell rang, he turned and made his exit. Not that easily, you thought, shoving into his shoulder, overtaking his place in the corridor. You didn't look back, you didn't need to, you already knew his eyes were watching you, you felt them.

With exams coming up, the pressure was on, more than ever, to outdo each other's intelligence.

Sitting around a large round table at the table were Matteo, Enzo, Theo, Pansy, Draco and yourself, most eyes glued to books, except Theo's. His eyes found themselves studying your face instead of his charms book. When you caught him staring, you rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating back on your notes; you thought he's just trying to distract me. Do not let him win, you reminded yourself, fighting the urge to look back up.

When your exams finally finished, you dropped your pencil and followed everyone out of the hall, Theodore found himself beside you, "Stand still for a second, Nott" you say. He listened and waited for what you were about to say; you took one big step in front of him "see that, one step ahead" you smiled as you continued to walk backwards, he laughed, actually laughed, shaking his head. You couldn't help but smile yourself.

"Did you see that?" Pansy says, nudging into Draco's shoulder, "See what?" he questions. "I think they're... getting along... in their own fucked up way," she concluded, her head tilted to make sure what she was seeing wasn't in her own mind. "Maybe hell has frozen over", he said, watching, equally as shocked as Pansy.

Sitting patiently in your chair, waiting for you exam results.

When you flip your page over, you smile, confident you have beaten Theodore, "98" you mouth to him from across the room, his lips turn into an exaggerated frown lifting his paper up for you to see. 98.5 written at the top of his page.

You have to be fucking kidding me! You wanted to scream, point five, point motherfucking five, are you kidding me?!

Throwing your page back onto your desk, you were pissed, as Theodore had never been more pleased.

You didn't wait around for his snarky comments, you walk straight out of class, you were in no mood to be trifled with.

Spending the rest of the day in your room, not showing up for dinner, you had no appetite for food, or Theodore's reminders of beating you, just.

Just after 11pm, you couldn't sleep. Being a weekend with no curfew, you grabbed your packet and stormed outside, desperately fighting the wind, trying to light your cigarette.

"need a hand?" Theodore said covering your smoke from the wind, you said nothing back, instead leaning slightly on the wall behind you.

"What are you doing here?" you finally replied

"I could ask you the same question," he retorts

You couldn't look at him, so mad, you were scared you would cry or hit him, which would encrypt guilt or satisfaction?

"Look at me when I speak to you," he demanded. Had he been talking? We were so caught up in your thoughts that you couldn't hear anything he had said.

Clocking your head towards him, "Don't tell me what to do", you huff, exhaling. He snatched the smoke out of your lips, stomping on it

"Sorry?" He gritted, spineless

Rolling your eyes, he took hold of your face, more specifically, your chin, "Don't fucking roll your eyes at me again, understand?" he instructed "I always roll my eyes at you" You reply, eyes squinting in anger

"Not anymore," he said calmly

Now you were confused, "I don't un-" you start

"Understand, yeah, I know" he finishes

"But that's a lie, I do understand, and so do you, all too well" He continues as he stalks closer to you, to the point your back is now completely pressed against the wall

Your heart rate picked up, "You hate me. I hate you too," You had to say out loud, trying to remind each other about your feelings

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he says, pressing his chest onto you

"Don't do this" you begged. He didn't listen. He just kept getting impossibly closer.

You huffed out a deep and heavy sigh. "What's wrong" he practically whispers

"I'm frustrated because I hate you, you frustrate me" you hiss out

"No," he said, as his mouth rested at the top of your neck. "You're not frustrated because you hate me; you're frustrated because you want me." He breathed onto you without thinking you pulled his face upright, crashing your lips with his for what felt like too long.

"Theodore" you rushed, catching your breath

"Don't pull away from me" he pleaded, kissing you harder.

Finally, leaning off him, you turned away, "Why did we do that" you ask, were you asking him or yourself?

"We can't help it" He soothes, turning you back over to face him again

"I have a bad habit of breaking everything I touch, y'know," he admits, his hand gripping the back of your neck, the other firm on your waist.

"go on then," you say above a whisper, hands linking behind his neck.

"Break me. Touch me." You purr.

[7s3ven]

THE IDEA OF US. theodore nott

( master list )

IN WHICH… the saddest thing in a relationship is knowing you met the wrong person at the wrong time yet you still can’t let them go.

“She’ll be the best you ever had if you let her. I know it’s for the better.”

A/N : This took me at least a week to right, omg

Warnings : toxic relationship, swearing, ed (eating d1sorder) mentioned, mental illness, mentions of sex, dirty jokes, making out, y/n and theo are both bitches, vulgar language, angst

—

Y/N L/N and Theodore Nott had been good friends for years. And their families had known each other for much longer. Since childhood, the two had been attached at the hip and nothing changed when they were accepted into Hogwarts.

“Y/N.” Theo called out, jogging to catch up with the girl. She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you can’t copy my answers, Theo. I told you to do the homework yourself.”

Theo sheepishly smiled. The day he was supposed to be studying, he was at a party. Y/N was there too, though she had already completed all her assignments and could drink without a care. Y/N had always been the better at academics out of the two.

“Change of topic, are you going to the Malfoy ball?” Theo asked. Y/N almost scoffed. She had no choice and neither did he. If their parents were going, they had to as well.

“Duh. What’s the color of your suit?”

“Dark blue. Apparently I look better in navy according to my mother.”

“Debatable.” Y/N hummed.

“Your dress?”

“Also dark blue. Matching. Again.” Y/N sarcastically smiled.

They seemed to coincidentally match for every important event; this was the fifth time. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was accidental anymore considering their mothers always chose their clothes for these events.

Theo chuckled, “I think our parents are up to something.”

“You just noticed?”

“Well, sorry I don’t pay that much attention to people like you.”

“Yeah, you’re too busy undressing girls with your eyes to notice.”

“The only girl I’m undressing is you and I don’t need my eyes for it. My hands can do that for me.” Theo smugly smirked while Y/N’s face scrunched up in disgust. She pushed him, causing the brunette to crash into a nearby stone wall. He winced, which amused Y/N.

“Think twice before you try and get me in bed, Nott.”

Theodore Nott was a handsome fellow with his slightly curled hair, messy tie, and the smell of cigarettes blending in with his strong cologne. As embarrassing as it was to admit, Y/N wasn’t opposed to the idea of kissing him. He was attractive after all but still her best friend. It was never a good idea to date someone you saw every day because once you broke up, it became too awkward to bear.

That wasn’t the only reason. The main reason were Theo’s eyes. His gaze was constantly bored and dead, even when he was around beautiful girls. He never showed emotion apart from the smug smirk Y/N liked to wipe off his face. If she dated him, would he still he bored? Showing appreciation was never his strong point.

Theo slung his arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “I was thinking that since you don’t like potions and I don’t either, we could take a little detour. Sneak in a cig or two. Maybe even some forbidden romance.”

For two years, Theo had been playfully flirting with Y/N. Nobody batted an eye, already assuming that the pair had something going on. Y/N could still remember the first terrible pickup line Theo had used on her after the Christmas break.

Y/N was walking down the steps that led to the girls’ dorms. She adjusted her tie so it wasn’t choking her to death. Her blouse and skirt were a size too small because she, or rather her parents, had forgotten to order a new uniform.

She spotted her usual friend group consisting of the highest-ranking Slytherins all perched upon the couches next to the fireplace. As she waltzed towards them, Theo lifted his head and for a moment, Y/N swore there was a flash of emotion before it disappeared.

“Matt, have you seen Pansy? She wasn’t in the dorm when I woke up.” Y/N placed a hand on Matteo’s shoulder like she always did. He turned to look at her, startled.

“Y/N, I didn’t even recognise you.”

“Seriously, Matt?”

“What? You’ve changed a lot!”

“My boobs just got bigger.”

Matteo’s eyes flickered down before he nodded. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Theo leaned over to smack Matteo’s head. “Stop staring at her chest, you idiot.” As always, he came to Y/N’s rescue, even when she didn’t exactly need it.

“Matteo was right, though.” Theo piped up as he walked Y/N to class. “You have changed.” He heard her laugh. “I’m serious. It’s the way you carry yourself, not just your face.”

Theo was her best friend but he had never been so… gentle with her. He fanned his face with his hand, loudly exhaling. “Is it hot in here or is it just you?”

It took Y/N a moment to realise what he was implying. She stared at him, unamused. “Never talk to me again.”

“I’ll take you up on that cigarette offer.” Y/N uttered, “But not the romance. Stay six meters away from me.”

That’s how Y/N and Theo ended up in the latter’s room, sharing one of Matteo’s cigarettes and laughing.

“Okay, but seriously. How many cloaks do you think Snape has in his wardrobe.” Y/N asked as she took the thin blunt from Theo.

He blew out a cloud of smoke. “He changes? I thought he lived in one.” An amused grin spread across the Slytherin’s face. “How many students do you think have accidentally patted Mcgonagall thinking she was a normal cat?”

“Plenty, I’m sure.” Y/N turned her head, almost jolting when her nose brushed Theo’s. “Ew, why are you so close?” She said it teasingly, grinning at her friend who was strangely silent.

“Sorry.” He whispered.

In all honesty, Theo wasn’t having much luck containing the thought of kissing Y/N either. The first few years of school were purely platonic but once everybody started to grow up, Theo found himself in an unusual predicament; he had feelings for his best friend.

“If you want to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.” It was another playful jab at Theo but with all the smoke rushing to his head, he took it literally. Y/N didn’t expect him to grab her by the chin, forcefully pushing his lips against hers like he had been starved of kissing, which she knew wasn’t true. She had seen Theo kissing a brunette girl at a party weeks ago. Yet he hadn’t kissed her with such passion.

Theo was the first to pull away, his chest heaving up and down. Y/N remained still. She parted her lips to say something but no word rolled off her tongue.

“Theo.” She finally said. “What was that?”

“I thought you were being serious.” He was still unbearably close, his strong cologne washing over Y/N and clouding her senses. “We don’t have to talk about it… but I needed it. Let me have this, Y/N.”

She had never heard Theo beg. It sparked a fire of warmth in her chest. “Ask nicely.” She muttered. Theo paused for a short moment before he thickly swallowed.

“Please.”

The moment the word slipped past his lips in such a delicate way, Y/N leaned forward. Theo tilted his head back as their lips met once more, hands clumsily trailing over each other’s bodies and holding their breaths to make the kiss last longer.

Theo felt ashamed that he was kissing his friend but in the moment, that was the last thing on his mind. All he could focus on was Y/N. She was practically on top of him, easily taking control while he was reduced to putty.

Y/N with her perfect hair and untainted uniform.

Y/N with her chuckles of amusement at Theo’s reactions.

She was all that occupied his mind. He repeated her name in his head like a mantra, never stopping until they were wrapped and tangled in his bed sheets.

They never spoke of that particular day but a new spark had been born; one that consumed both their lives. Everybody noticed the not-so-secretive looks Theo sent Y/N and the small shared smiles in between classes. Like old times, Theo never left Y/N’s side. He paid no attention to other girls, not when his arm was wrapped around Y/N as she laughed with Pansy and made fun of Matteo. And despite the pair silently vowing the incident where they ended up in Theo’s bed together would not occur a second time, it always happened again.

The holidays finally arrived and the pinochle event of the wizarding world was finally drawing in; the Malfoy ball.

“Where’s Y/N?” Pansy was the last of the group to arrive at the manor, holding a bag that contained her dress and her extensive collection of makeup.

“Coming later.” Theo said, running a hand through his hair.

The whole group had decided to meet at the Malfoy Manor to get ready. Everybody but Y/N. This wasn’t unusual behaviour for her; she always stated how she worked better alone. Theo almost laughed at the memory of how she’d always refuse to do group work.

“How do you know that?” Draco piped up.

Theo casually shrugged as if he hadn’t spent two hours with Y/N. “I saw her on my way. She’ll probably arrive when the event starts.”

Pansy pouted. “I wanted her to help me with my dress.”

“I’ll help.” Draco said a little too quickly. Matteo and Lorenzo snickered together, playing kicking kissing faces at the platinum blond.

“Oh, shut up you morons.” Draco hissed as he followed Pansy to the bathroom to help her. As soon as he was gone, Lorenzo and Matteo chose Theo as their new victim.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice a little romance thing going on between you and a certain H/C-nette.” Matteo coolly uttered, resting an arm on Theo’s shoulder.

Lorenzo subtly rolled his eyes. “Who hasn’t noticed? It’s quite obvious.”

“There’s nothing going on between us.” Theo muttered, adjusting his tie.

“Yeah. That bracelet on your arm says otherwise.” Matteo fired back. Theo almost started cursing at him. He had forgotten how he jokingly slid on one of Y/N’s bracelets. To make matters worse, not only were her initials carved into the silver but so was her full name.

“Coincidence.” Theo grumbled, quickly pocketing the bracelet.

“What about you two always sneaking off? You love staying at parties until the end but lately, you’ve been disappearing. Into rooms. With you-know-who.” Lorenzo was ganging up on Theo as well, much to his annoyance.

“I’m not fucking Matteo’s dad.” Theo retorted.

“When I said you-know-who, I meant Y/N!”

“I know! It was a joke, Enzo!” Theo huffed, his gaze darting back to the large mirror in front of him.

“We hear you, by the way.” Matteo whispered. “The walls are thin and we have to hang out in Blaise’s dorm when the door is closed because we know what’s happening.”

“Oh, please. Please. Yes, right there.” Lorenzo mocked, copying the noises he had heard mere days ago. Theo’s cheeks flushed red.

“That’s not me.” He was already losing to Matteo and Lorenzo’s little game but he stood firm.

“Hm. Right.” Matteo didn’t believe his friend’s words for one second. “Well, I better get dressed. Guests will be arriving soon. Can’t wait to see your little principessa or whatever you call her in bed.” He walked off, cackling like a hyena. Only Lorenzo was left.

“Just confess to her, dude. She probably feels the same way.” Lorenzo matted Theo’s back before he followed after Matteo, needing to get dressed as well.

Theo found himself alone in the glittering ballroom, still waiting for his late companions. He swirled the champagne around in his glass in boredom, almost wanting to spill it on someone to watch their reaction.

“All by yourself, Nott?”

Theo didn’t waste any time in spinning around. “Y/N.” He stated. She was staring up at him, focused on his eyes like she always was. Sometimes Theo wondered if he could see the slight joy in his gaze whenever she was around.

“Where are the others?” She questioned.

“I’m not sure. Right now, it’s just me.”

Y/N smiled. “That’s good because I was looking forward to spending more time with you.” As if they didn’t spend enough time together as they were.

“Isn’t it funny how our mothers dressed us up in not only the same color, but the same shade, as well?” Theo grinned. “Same fabric too. Are they trying to tell us something?”

“What? That we should date?”

Theo deeply hummed. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” He placed his glass on a nearby table, his attention focused solely on Y/N. “The party’s just started so let’s find a way to pass the time.”

Y/N grasped his tie, pulling him forward. “You’re on, Nott.”

They found themselves in a dark and crowded room filled with old antiques. Theo harshly kissed Y/N, tightly gripping her waist. In the midst of the heated moment, three words that Y/N dreaded accidentally slipped past her lips.

“I love you.” She froze, realising what she had said out of impulse.

“That’s too bad.” Theo joked but his words still made her heart sink and she felt numb in the actions that followed their kisses.

Nobody was shocked when they returned to Hogwarts to find that Y/N, who never liked anyone, and Theo, who only engaged in casual relationships, were dating. It was expected because they hardly spent any time apart, which made room for romantic feelings.

Theo knocked on Y/N’s dorm door. Somehow, he had found a way past the charm placed on the stairs. “Hey, the Ravenclaws are having a party. Wanna go? The whole gang is going.” He stepped into her room that she shared with Pansy and two other Slytherin girls.

Y/N was sitting on a desk pushed into the corner next to a window, overlooking the scenery. “Don’t feel like it.” She muttered, busy writing an essay for who knows what. Theo faltered.

“Are you sure? Otherwise I’ll go with Mel.”

Y/N paused and she slowly glanced over her shoulder. “Mel?” She raised her eyebrows in a condescending way. “Who’s that?”

“One of Pansy’s friends but she’s cool. She’s the one who invited us anyway.”

“Okay.” Y/N turned back to her work without uttering another word, leaving Theo frustrated.

“Why are you mad?” He questioned, taking a step forward.

“I’m not.” The monotone sound of Y/N’s voice made it clear that she was. “You can go to the party, I don’t care.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

“And I wasn’t asking you to bring up another girl.”

Theo clenched his jaw. Y/N had been in a jealous state for over a week. Every time Theo simply accidentally glanced at another girl, she grew mad.

He spun Y/N’s chair around, firmly placing his hands on her shoulders so she couldn’t shove him away. He could smell her expensive body lotion and perfume as it washed over him. “What the fuck is going on with you?” He seethed, “You’ve been like this all week. I don’t fucking know what you want, Y/N.”

“I want you to stop paying attention to other girls. Easy.” She shrugged.

“Maybe I wouldn’t need to look at other girls if you were more laid-back.” The biting words rolled off Theo’s tongue before he could stop them. Annoyance clouded his brain but he knew he’d come to regret it when he saw that glint of anger in Y/N’s eyes.

“I’m asking for the bare minimum, Theo.”

He didn’t even know what she was asking at this point.

Y/N clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes like she always did. “Go to the party, see if I care. Maybe Mel is more laidback than me.”

With a strong push, Y/N shoved Theo back. She walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Theo stood in the same spot for a moment, trying to register what had happened. He heard the faint sound of the bath water running; Y/N always had relaxing baths when she was stressed.

“Come to the party if you change your mind.” Theo called out in a futile attempt to make amends. All he got in reply was a loud hum.

Theo wasn’t too sure when their relationship went downhill. It was great for a while in the honeymoon phase until the arguments started.

Theo would scream at Y/N for not eating so she could use that time to study until her nose bled and she passed out from exhaustion.

Y/N would accuse Theo of cheating because he spent about as much time with other girls as he did with Y/N and his friends. It wasn’t his fault he was a heartthrob.

After every fight, they made peace and promised not to let their mistakes happen again. But they always did because history repeats itself until you learn from it. Perhaps Theo and Y/N were like two puzzle pieces that didn’t exactly match but you forced them to anyway.

“Theo.” Mel’s hand brushed his shoulder as she handed him a dark bottle of beer. “What’s on your mind?”

Mel smelled like roses and sweet strawberries while Y/N’s perfume was always addictive and deep. They were complete opposites but Theo had always preferred Y/N’s.

“Y/N.” Theo grumbled, taking a gulp from the bottle.

“She’s always causing problems.” It was not Mel’s place to say such a thing but she wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t know. She’s been so paranoid and it’s just rubbing me the wrong way. She gets mad at me every five minutes, even for shit I don’t do. She’ll blame Matteo’s tricks on me.”

Mel shifted closer to Theo, their hands accidentally brushing. She smiled. “You’ve told me about all this before. Why don’t you just break up?”

Theo almost wanted to laugh. Him? Break up with Y/N? She was a L/N, a prestigious family that stood above everybody else. He’d need to have a death wish to leave her. The only way he could get out unscathed was if Y/N broke up with him or if it was mutual.

Mel’s finger trailed up his thigh and despite Theo giving her a look to stop, he didn’t grasp her wrist.

His stomach sank in dread as someone behind him cleared their throat. “Is “one of Pansy’s friends” now code for a new fuck buddy?” Y/N leaned over, her warm breath hitting Theo’s neck. He could feel the anger radiating off her. “Nice one, Nott. You almost had me convinced you’d settled down.”

Theo was up in a heartbeat, practically pushing Mel away from him. He raced after Y/N, who had already exited the Ravenclaw common room. She was now quickly pacing through the dimly lit corridors, no particular location in mind.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Theo shouted, his voice echoing. He was expecting Y/N to speed up but instead, she spun around and grabbed him by the collar.

“What were you doing with her, huh?” Y/N hissed, “Just because you’ve finally tied me down doesn’t mean you can go and not put effort into this relationship!”

“I was only talking to her!”

“Well, it didn’t look purely platonic! Her hand was on your thigh and you didn’t even stop her!”

“That’s just the way girls are with me! What am I supposed to do, huh? You can’t ban me from talking to other people!”

Y/N shoved Theo, “You are so frustrating! You never take anything seriously!”

“And you take everything too literally. I was just talking to her! Nothing else!”

“She looked like she wanted to fucking kiss you! And she was probably going to!”

“Everybody wants to kiss me! Where’s the problem in that, huh?! You kiss me!”

“The problem is you have a fucking girlfriend!”

“You’re the one always talking to other guys like some…” Theo spluttered, tripping over his own words in search of a retort. “Some sort of slut!” As always, he immediately regretted his words. Y/N’s face morphed into a look of fury.

“I have been loyal from day one!” She screeched, “The thought of cheating has never crossed my mind so don’t you dare call me a slut when you know the only person here willing to cheat would be you!”

Y/N and Theo stared at each other, panting heavily. “Fuck you.” Theo whispered.

“Why don’t you go back to the party and fuck Mel instead, huh?” Y/N wittily snapped back. The last of Theo’s calmness finally broke and he grabbed Y/N by the shoulder, shoving her into an empty classroom and locking the door behind him.

“Mel is only a friend. She’s not my girlfriend, you are. I have never thought of cheating either and the fact you accuse me of it is preposterous.”

“Using big words now, are you?” Even in a locked room with someone who could easily throw her out the window, Y/N was making annoyingly smart remarks.

Theo spoke again, only it wasn’t in English. He angrily spoke in full Italian, yelling at her. Y/N had learnt a few words for his sake but she found it hard to keep up.

The fast words slipped past Theo’s lips and he paused, waiting for Y/N to answer as if she actually understood him. She awkwardly smiled. “Uh… Sì?”

“At least you know that word. Mel doesn’t know any Italian so who’s the better one between you two, huh? I’ll give you a hint. I like girls who attempt to learn my language.”

“So get Mel to learn it.”

“I love you, not her.” Theo insisted.

“It’s too late for that.”

Theo let out a quiet sigh as Y/N unlocked the door. She paused, waiting for him to call out for her again. He didn’t.

“Have fun.” She grumbled.

Theo ran his tongue over his teeth before he grabbed Y/N’s shoulder. “Every time we argue, we don’t try to resolve it. So we’re going to work it out right here, right now.”

“Don’t you have a girl to get back to?” Y/N sneered.

“See, that’s your problem. You’re insecure.”

Y/N scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. She wasn’t insecure; she was far from it. She was the most confident girl in the year.

“You get paranoid every time I talk to a girl. You’re controlling and you’re always accusing me of shit I would never do.”

“You cheated on your first girlfriend.” Y/N piped up, making Theo freeze. “What? You didn’t think I’d find out? Once a cheater, always a cheater, Nott.”

“So why’d you date me, huh?”

“You aren’t even going to defend yourself? I thought you were different because you were my friend. I thought you finally grew up but I don’t think you have. My problem is paranoia, yours is cheating. And don’t get me fucking started on the drinking and smoking.”

Theo clenched his jaw. “You wanna play that game, prissy princess? Okay. You have more than one problem. In fact, you have too many to count. You’re fucked in the head, narcissistic, you can’t fucking eat properly, and you think everybody likes you when in reality, we’re all waiting for your downfall. You aren’t as popular as you think. And the damn studying. You study so much that you get sick! Physically and mentally sick! You’re just setting yourself up for failure!”

“I warned you.” Y/N whispered, harshly poking Theo’s chest. “I warned you about me! I warned you about the mental issues, the eating disorders, the problems that will start showing! And like everybody else, you said “it’s fine, I’ll be able to handle it”. Then like everybody else, you want to back away the moment I show negative signs! Do you think I like being like this? Depressed, anxious, paranoid, starving, and barely able to eat?! Do you think I fucking like going to therapy?!”

“You may as well go to more sessions because you aren’t getting any better.”

“You’re an ass, Nott.”

“And you’re a bitch.”

“Did we resolve the issue like you wanted? Because if so, I’d like to return to my dorm so I can watch a movie with a love interest who isn’t a complete jerk and only thinks with his dick.” As always, Y/N was the first to storm off.

“You love my dick!” Theo shouted after her.

“Fuck you!” She pointed the middle finger at him without turning out.

Theo shoved his hands into his deep pockets, clicking his tongue. “Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, hoping it would fix his pounding headache. “I need a cigarette.”

Theo didn’t attend his classes the next day. And, by the looks of it and the remarks from Pansy, neither did Y/N. He stumbled across her in the astronomy tower, smoking one of her reserved cigarettes.

“You beat me to my spot.” Theo grunted, cautiously taking a seat beside Y/N. She didn’t shove him away. She only slowly blinked and nodded.

“You should go to potions.” She muttered, smoke seeping past her teeth.

They were both numb from their previous argument, too tired to fight again. Theo had stayed up all night, replaying Y/N’s words in his head and scolding himself. Y/N wasn’t any better. Pansy slipped her some vodka from the party and the events that followed after were hazed history.

“How’s Mel?” Y/N couldn’t stop herself from being snarky. She heard Theo scoff.

“Fuck, you can’t stop bringing her up for even five minutes?”

There were no apologies in their relationship. Perhaps they learn it from their parents who, every time they’d argue, would gift them with lavish gifts instead of saying sorry.

“Why should I? You can’t stop calling me a slut.”

“It was one time.”

An awkward silence settled between the pair before Theo drew in a heavy breath.

“I love you…” He muttered. Y/N thickly swallowed, blowing out another mouthful of smoke.

“If you loved me, we wouldn’t be doing this. We wouldn’t be going back and forth, continuously fighting and trying to one up each other. We wouldn’t be trying so hard to make this work when we know it’s going to fail.”

A pit settled in Theo’s stomach. “Are you… breaking up with me?” The sadness in Y/N’s eyes made it apparent.

“Face it, Theo, we aren’t a good match. The only other reason we got this far is because of our parents. Our parents wanted us to never friends, our parents wanted us to date, our parents want us to get married. What about what we want? What happens if we do get married? It’ll crash and burn. We don’t work. No matter how hard we try, we will never work.”

“But… I love you.”

Y/N shook her head, “That’s not enough this time.”

The sudden realisation that Theo was losing Y/N caused him to cup her face, pressing his forehead against his.

“There’s a difference between loving the idea of someone and actually loving them.” Y/N mumbled, “Us? We love the idea of each other. We are constantly stuck on the “what ifs” of our relationship? The possibilities. We are so obsessed with this relationship because we created a different version of each other in our heads when in reality, those version of us will never be true.”

Theo rested his head on Y/N’s shoulder. He knew she was only telling the truth but it still hurt. Maybe Y/N was the right person for him or maybe she wasn’t; all he knew was that they met at the wrong time.

“I love you too, Theo, but we have a problem even saying those simple words.”

Their breakup was inevitable once the arguments started. It was only a matter of time before the fighting became too frequent to ignore.

“So… this is it?” Theo muttered. “We’re finally breaking up?”

“We had a good run, Theo.” Y/N uttered, fiddling with her cigarette. She handed it to Theo, slightly smiling. “See you around… I guess.”

“You’re just… walking away?” Theo himself was cold sometimes but he didn’t expect it from Y/N. It was finally clear why she had been placed in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw; she was as heartless as her friends.

“If I don’t walk away, Nott, then I’ll keep holding on when I know I need to let go.”

Nott. Y/N always called him that when she was angry or teasing him. She didn’t look angry this time, only sad. They’d see each other at meals for sure but it would never be the same because they’d no longer be holding hands under the table.

“See you at dinner.” Y/N said, her voice a hushed mutter. She feared that if she spoke any louder, Theo would hear her voice break and notice her glassy eyes.

“Yeah… see you.” Theo watched as Y/N walked off with no intention of chasing after her. He wanted to and it took all his power to fight the urges to hold her back. This was for the best. Theo knew he’d have to let go of Y/N eventually so that both of them could pursue a healthier relationship in the far future.

He’d always be thinking of her, though, day and night. He knew it’d be the same for Y/N because despite everything that had happened between them, they were still each other’s first loves.

Theo glanced down at the cigarette he held in his hand. He could see Y/N’s lipstick stain imprinted on it, the last reminder of the kisses they shared before it all burned down.

HP TAG LIST (comment to be added) : @jetblackpayne @rafeslittleangel @opheliamalfoy236

[mrsriddles-blog]

Reads of the Week: Mar 10-Mar 16 | PART ONE

*indicates smut

green font represents multiple characters (poly, rh, etc.)

A/N: Soooo, this is part one for this weeks reads 😂 😅 I didn’t know you were limited to 50 mentions per post, so the second part I’m going to start out with fics I’ve read for the Sturniolo Triplets. Also, if the link is wrong on one or the mentions, please let me know! I try to go in and check them, but there was a lot this time! Thank you!

Cruel Summer by @thatdammchickennugget

The real thing by @zriasstuff

Babysitting by @rainyreading

Weren’t Supposed to Let Me Go by @anawritez-posts

oh heart, and then it falls by @cupidddd-d

Eclipsed Hearts by @anawritez-posts

Warring Hearts by @allurearia

hide by @bettymylove

Hidden rings by @allurearia

Filthy Cheater, We Go Again by @allurearia

Way too close by @zriasstuff

Lessons In Love by @obsessedwithceleste

His Favorite* by @angelfrombeneth

get him back! by @lizthewriter

Lonely by @evergone

You know better*by @hpimagines

daddy issues by @bettymylove

Not so innocent* by @hpimagines

hot chocolate fluff by @finalgirllx

First Impressions PT 1 by @zriasstuff

Second Chances PT 2 by @zriasstuff

Sharing a bed PT 1 by @papercorgiworld

Sharing a bed PT 2* by @papercorgiworld

let me fuck you* by @slytherinslut0

dreams come true* by @jayybugg

the tension* by @mxqdii

Cuddly by @maraudersmyloves

confess by @kelstey

Blinding Ire by @darklinsblog

A Cold Comfort by @ana-reblogsposts

Fake Stalker Prequel by @anawritez-posts

Fake Stalker by @anawritez-posts

Voicemail by @anawritez-posts

Confundus* by @mrsdarkandyandere7

Since Forever by @suugarbabe

mine by @sapphicwhxre

personas by @sapphicwhxre

tell me we weren’t just friends by @lizthewriter

Restraints* by @slytherins-journalist

The Study* by @etfrin

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter eleven

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): fighting, mentions blood, more angst lol

series masterlist; previous part; next part

The three of you sit in varying states of unrest beside Ron's hospital bed.

Hermione was still gripping his hand, as if her touch would entice him to wake up; Ginny was throwing a ball against the nearest wall as she quietly chatted to Mione, ignoring the glares of annoyance from the matron every time her ball made a thwack sound against the stone; you were sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs, a copy of 'Mythical Lore' in your lap, your eyes darting to and from Ron's chest to check that he was still breathing. Harry was Merlin knows where, but you knew he'd be back soon, never willing to leave his friends in distress for too long.

It had been like this for hours. Your tears had dried up and your anger had simmered away slowly; all that was left was the hollow feeling of helplessness and despair as you sat there.

Helpless against the poison that was slowly leaving Ron's bloodstream.

Helpless against forces that harmed your friends.

Helpless to whatever was happening to you.

A monster is what you were. A mythical, dangerous monster. Your gut churned with unease.

The somewhat peaceful atmosphere was interrupted as the doors to the Hospital Wing behind you burst open in a flurry that alerted Madame Pomfrey instantly.

"What is the meaning of this?" she said to whoever had appeared in the doorway. You swivelled in your seat to see, noting Ginny's incredulous look and Hermione's annoyed one, which could only mean one thing.

"Where is my Won-Won?" the squeaky voice of Lavender Brown sliced through the calm. "Cormac McClaggen told me he was here but I didn't believe him."

Madame Pomfrey tutted at her dramatics and pointed the girl in the direction of where you were all sat. You tensed at the blazing heat simmering in Lavender's eyes as she looked between Hermione's hand in Ron's.

"Y'alright Brown?" you say with a grimaced smile, discontent with the fact that you knew the other two wouldn't dare to speak. "Ron's been out for a few hours. Should be cognisant properly in a week's time."

Apparently you'd taken to snarky remarks to cover up your terror at the fact that he had not so much as stirred from his dreamless sleep. She turns to you then, her features betraying how worried she was for her boyfriend, but she had let jealousy rear its ugly head.

"And what is she doing here?" she hisses, pointedly looking at Hermione as you and Ginny share bewildered looks.

"Well-" you say, awkwardly glancing between the girls, "Well they're friends aren't they?"

"Yes well, you're friends with Theodore Nott, but it's so obvious that you're fucking each other behind closed doors." she snaps and you gape at her in disbelief. "Forgive me if I don't think that Granger's intentions are any less pure."

"I am not fucking Theodore." you jibe, throwing a whithering glare at Ginny who had let out a loud snort at Lavender's self assured statement.

"I've been friends with him for longer than he knew of your existence." Mione snapped, not letting go of Ron's hand, scowling as Lavender lets out a catty laugh.

"You're joking right? The two of you haven't had a civil conversation in weeks. But I suppose you want to make up with him now that he's all interesting." she says shrilly and its Ginny who whirls on her this time.

"You call being poisoned interesting? Are you that dim?" she questions and Lavender's resolve jostles only slightly.

Suddenly, Ron's features contort in discontent.

"Oh look at that." Lavender says smugly, eyes flicking to Hermione's grimacing face. "He senses my presence."

You yelp as she practically shoves you away from where you are sat, leaning over to peak at her boyfriend's face as it twitches with his dreams. He begins to mumble something that you can't make out and Lavender begins to encourage him to speak up, as if he'd be able to hear her.

You just stare at the back of the girl's head in annoyance until she staggers away, mouth agape with shock. You're confused until you hear it for yourself.

"Her- Mione. Mione. Mione." he chants her name like a siren's song.

Hermione smiles gently and her thumbs caresses his hand softly as he continues to mumble incoherently in his sleep. Lavender lets out a broken exhale and promptly flees the ward. You pity her in that moment. Not even the most incorrigible of people deserve that kind of betrayal.

The three of you are silent as you watch Ron. But he's sound asleep again. Still, as if it had been a combined figment of your imaginations. You stand to make the matron aware of this development, playfully shoving Ginny away as she taunts you.

"I can't believe she thought you and Nott are fucking." she laughed. "Unbelievable."

"Shut up." you berate her and she lets out a giggle before replying in a barely hidden whisper.

"Wrong Slytherin Prince, right?"

She smirks as you throw up a middle finger towards her as you reach the matron's office on the other end of the Hospital Wing.

~∞~

Somehow you've mastered the accute art of stealth.

In the week that has passed, you have managed to drift through the castle halls without so much as crossing paths with any of the Slytherin group. Partly due to the fact that you spent your time in the Hospital Wing with a near-cognisant Ron, in classes or in your dorm. You didn't dare go to the Room of Requirement or the library and you were eternally grateful that it was not your week to do the nightly Patrols.

Ancient Runes proved to be a difficult feat, but you somehow coerced a fellow Ravenclaw to switch seats with you in exchange for completing the next essay so that they could focus on training for the quidditch match at the end of the week. Under normal circumstances you would've abhorred the idea of it, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You could feel his eyes practically burning holes to the back of your head in all your shared classes, and you felt him in the corridors, but you didn't dare give in. You didn't want to see him. Couldn't bare to face him.

Mattheo was restless and agitated. All week long you wouldn't so much as look at him, let alone deign to spend an ounce of time with him. He was worried.

When you slammed the common room door in his face a week ago, he had reluctantly confessed to his friends about what the two of you had discovered; each of his friends were wholly willing to help him find a way to help you, if only he could tell you the good news.

And he'd tried. He'd reached over the tether that had connected your mind to his, but each time he was met with an offensive wall of dark stone. You'd blocked him out completely, and he would've been impressed if he wasn't so desperate to hear your voice.

Now he knows how you must've felt all those weeks ago, but it's different now. Now there are feelings involved. Now he doesn't know how to cope without your snark and sarcasm.

When he found Jeremy Stretton sat in your seat in Ancient Runes he found his reigned in emotions snapping. Especially when he saw that you were sat in the front, happily chatting away to Hermione and one of the Patil twins, waiting for Professor Babbling to turn up. He doesn't know why the sight of the Chaser makes his blood boil.

Mattheo slammed his hands onto the desk, bringing his face level with Stretton's, who had looks up in startled alarm. Mattheo was seething, and he didn't particularly care that everyone was beginning to peer curiously at the scene that was beginning to unfold.

"What the fuck are you doing at my table, Stretton?" he snarled, eyes narrowing as his hands tightened around the lip of the desk.

To his credit, Jeremy shook off his stupor and looked at Mattheo obstinately.

"I'm sitting in my seat, Riddle. Problem?" the Ravenclaw chaser replied, challenge flaring in his oceanic eyes.

Mattheo's glare became venomous.

"That...is not...your seat." he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous. He could see you standing up in his peripheral, looking as if your going to intervene, but Granger stops you with a hand to your shoulder, a look of incredulity on her face. "I suggest you move, before I move you myself."

"Well actually," Stretton says with a barely there smirk, "I think you'll find that it is my seat. I don't know why it's taken her so long to do so, but Meadow practically begged me to swap and I can only oblige to her wishes."

He sees red almost instantly and Stretton's shirt collar finds its way into the clenched fists of Mattheo's hands, his hot breath fanning over the Ravenclaw's smirking face. He now knows why fury coats his every being with a tiny detail that whispered to his consciousness. Stretton had taken you to the Yule Ball two years ago. This was a product of pure jealousy as well as rage.

"Oooh did I hit a nerve?" Stretton says. "What could dear, sweet Meadow possibly see in you, Riddle?"

Mattheo doesn't register the feeling of his fist untangling from the shirt collar, until he feels the soft cartilage of Stretton's nose breaking beneath bloodied knuckles. He can vaguely hear Theodore and Pansy telling him to stop, can barely hear the sounds of people jeering and gasping at the scene. But what he does hear is your blessed voice.

"Mattheo stop it." you say, and it's like the sound brushes away the feelings clouding all his senses. He lets go of Stretton, who flops to the floor unceremoniously, but he doesn't pay him another glance. Not when you're looking at him the way you are. With bewilderment and what he thinks is unease. His breathing is ragged as he steps towards you, but you step back.

"Are you insane?" you hiss at him and to his utter horror, you turn your gaze to the blubbering boy on the floor and kneel down to help him instead.

"Jeremy?" the way you say his name with a soft tone grates through him and he's about to step towards you again, when Theodore's firm hand on his chest stops him.

"Let it go. You've already caused quite the scene brother." his voice is a gentle caress to his ears and his graciously listens to Theo who sighs in relief, pushing Mattheo out of the door, ignoring the shouts of Professor Babbling, who had just entered the classroom.

~∞~

Wordlessly, you heal Jeremy's wounds as Professor Babbling meanders in, unaware of the turmoil that had occurred only moments ago. Jeremy was hissing and cursing as your magic washed over his skin.

"You can take your godsdamned seat back, Meadow." he spat. "It's so not worth getting another beating over."

You smile grimly at him, guilt clouding your eyes. "Of course. I'm sorry, Jeremy."

"Not your fault, love." It's nearly impossible for you to hide the way the nickname makes you cringe. "Can't say I won't miss the opportunity for some extra quidditch practice though."

He bats your healing hands away as Professor Babbling stands above the two of you.

"What on Earth is going on?" she says, voice stern. "Does it have anything to do with why Masters Riddle and Nott are notably absent?"

Jeremy nods immediately at the same time that you freeze, not willing to give them up so easily. He stares at you incredulously. You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Uh, yes. Yeah." you say in a muted whisper. "But it's been sorted."

Jeremy throws you a look, which you adamantly ignore as you rise and go towards Pansy's table, taking Theo's empty seat. She doesn't so much as look your way, tense as you sit down. You close your eyes and sigh.

"Look I'm sorry that I've not spoken to you." you mumble without turning to face her.

"Ignored and neglected more like." she retorts in response. "I had no idea about Ron, Meadow. You have to believe me."

You reach over and squeeze her hand in your's. "I do believe you, Pans. I do. But it doesn't mean that the others didn't. And I-"

You're cut off by Professor Babbling's introduction to the lesson's topic, but the squeeze that Pansy's hand gives your's is all you need to know that you're both okay. And that's enough for now.

"For what it's worth," she mumbles almost imperceptibly. "You're doing an awfully good job of avoiding him. I've never seen Mattheo so ruffled."

Instead of satisfaction, that statement only brings you an aching sense of pain. And whether you do it unconsciously or not, you'll never admit, but your mental walls break down the smallest amount.

Enough for him to know that you're in as much agony as he is.

~∞~

As soon as Pansy leaves your side after you've walked out of Ancient Runes, Hermione is there immediately.

"Okay, what in Merlin's name happened in there?" she asks incredulously.

"We both know Riddle has a short fuse, Mione. It's not that abnormal to see." you retort and she gives you a disbelieving look.

"Maybe so, but it can't be just me that's noticed that he hasn't resorted in bloody fist fighting in months." Damn her and her brilliant observation skills. "And why was Stretton in your seat in the first place?"

"I asked to swap." you say with a shrug and when you don't give her the answer she's no doubt looking for, she pins you with a glare.

"You've been avoiding them all week. Parkinson, Nott and Riddle. You've spent more time with me, Ginny and Harry this week than you have all year."

"Tired of my presence already, Mione?" you say with the ghost of a smirk of your face. When she doesn't return your humour, you sigh. "I've been a little busy with visiting Ron. And maybe Harry's spiels have been getting to me."

"What?" she questions before lowering her voice. "You think they're Death Eaters?"

"I don't know what to think." you say. "But I can't talk to them. I won't."

"You spoke to Pansy, just fine earlier."

"She's not the one I'm avoiding."

A brief glance into her mind shows you that she thinks you're speaking about Theo. And while the thought of speaking to him after what he no doubt had a hand in helping orchestrate, seeing Mattheo, speaking to Mattheo, makes your heart want to drop right down to your stomach.

You can still feel the phantom of his power all this time later. Though that could just be you imagining it; you don't doubt that the brief feeling you got was exhilarating. It terrified you.

"Are you coming to see Ron after lunch?" Hermione asks as you part ways for your differing classes.

"Yeah. I'll find you in the Great Hall once I've finished Astronomy." you smile in farewell as she makes her way towards her Arithmancy lesson.

Your smile slips immediately as you turn the corner, because you find yourself trapped between a cold stone pillar, and his strong, muscled chest, his arms straining as they pin you to the hard structure. You don't look up to lock eyes, instead glaring intently at his loosened Slytherin tie.

"Hello, Princess." Mattheo spits menacingly. All he gets in response is a huff from you. "Still intent on avoiding me, are you?" he lets out a dark chuckle that sets your skin alight, and you can tell without looking that a sinister smirk paints his gorgeous face.

You feel as he sensually caresses your mind, and it has you keening into him.

Let me back in. His deep voice is demanding and assertive. At your blatent refusal he growls. Why won't you let me in?

I can't. You say back, your inner voice a mere whimper in comparison to his. He tilts his head down to look at you, chasing your eyes with his own. He can feel your fear and self hatred like it was highlighted in bold colours for all to see.

"What are you so afraid of, darling?" he asks out loud in a low and raspy tone that makes you melt. Your eyes shut on instinct, squeezing away the light until your dizzy.

"I'm going to be late for Astronomy." you say, deflecting and he scoffs, pushing you further into the wall.

"It's barely eleven o'clock. I'm sure you're not going to miss a change in star pattern any time soon."

"That's not even the point and you know it." you argue, trying in vain to evade his strong hold.

"Stop avoiding us. Stop avoiding me." he begs. "Do you know how insufferable Teddy has been?"

"What a horrible thing to say about your best friend." you retort halfheartedly. But Mattheo is only partially glad that you're returning his words with quips of sarcasm. He sighs.

"I don't blame you for what happened in my dorm, love." Unlike how you cringed away from Stretton, your heart sings at the nickname. "'S not your fault."

"I could've drained you to death, Théo." you say quietly, and his face heats at the shortened nickname. One that he had not heard in years, since the passing of Theodore's mother. "I don't know how you can stand to be around me."

You're still evading his eye contact, so he lifts a hand from the wall and gently cradles your chin, moving your gaze to his; bloody knuckles contrasting with the smoothness of your skin.

"You're not a monster." he says resolutely, like he truely believes it. "You never have been, and you never will be. Not to me, not to my friends, not to your friends, either."

Your brow furrows and your eyes line with unshed tears.

"I went to Dumbledore." you say and he stills. "After I left your common room. I went to him and he said I was a weapon. Because I can detect certain magical objects and people."

Mattheo's body lit up with fury again. You were not a weapon to be used and discarded. No, you were a person who did not belong on the frontlines of war.

"And what did you say to that?" he asks you, onyx eyes narrowed in anger that was not directed your way.

"I told him that I didn't know how to control it. That I wasn't interested in being fated to die." you say, and it feels good to talk about things you're too afraid to speak to your friends about. "I asked him to grant you all safety too."

At this, Mattheo's gaze snaps right to your own. Incredulity lacing his features. "Why would you do that?"

"He could see right through my shield." you defend yourself at his tone. "He refused anyhow. Said you had to ask for yourselves, and he knows that you won't."

He admired your ire for his friends. But he almost winces at the glare you send his way.

"You knew that he wouldn't help any of you no matter when or how I asked. Didn't you?" you couldn't believe him.

"You learn to expect nothing less from the people who expect nothing but bad intentions from you, sweetheart." he replied with a shrug. "Though I wish they'd help the others, no matter if they associate with me or not."

His face is dark as he lets you go. But you don't move away. Instead you tilt your head and stare up at him, eyes moving across his features: from his onyx eyes framed by gloriously long lashes; to the bridge of his nose, crooked from previous fights with a long scar stretching across the middle of it; to his perfect mouth that pouts slightly as he gazes down at you.

Keep looking at me like that and I'll take you in this very corridor. He snarls in your mind and you smirk.

Kinky. But I draw the line at exhibitionism. You pat at his hard, muscled chest and make to move away and run towards the class that you are no doubt now late for. But he stops you with a firm grip to your bicep and he spins you around to face him again.

"Tease." he mutters with his own smirk as he presses his lips to your's. It's as euphoric as the first time, and every time after that as his lips fight against your's, ultimately winning your miniature battle for dominance. You mewl into his mouth as his tongue brushes against your's, hands clawing at the hairs at the nape of his neck as he pushes you into the wall once more.

You're so lost in eachother that you don't hear them when they turn the corner. Ginny and Harry stop dead in their tracks as they stare at the two of you wide eyed. The former smirks at the thought of finally catching you out but it drops immediately when she turns to the boy beside her who is visibly fuming. And she can't steer him away fast enough to save you from his wrath.

"Shacking up with Death Eaters now, Meadow? I thought that was below you." the spitting sound of your best friend's voice breaks you from your daydream like state and you force yourself away from Mattheo's wondering mouth to gape at your two friends.

Ginny is sending you an apologetic look which you bypass in order to face the scathing eyes of Harry Potter.

"Harry-" you say, stepping out from where you're trapped between Mattheo and the wall, and you're so grateful that he doesn't keep you pinned there, instead he stands slightly infront of you, arms folded, a glare set on his face.

"Don't." Harry says, eying the way Riddle stands infront of you protectively. "All this time, I thought you were only tutoring him for Nott's sake. But, of course you just had to get in his bed, too."

The hand on his bicep is the only thing stopping Mattheo from launching at the boy.

"Watch it, Potter." he snaps, his position infront of you turning defensive.

Harry lets out an incredulous laugh; Ginny's attempts to persuade him to leave it alone, are ignored.

"I overheard you." he continues as if Mattheo had not spoken at all. "In Dumbledore's office. Begging him to help your friends."

You don't know what to say. Starstruck by his anger. But you understand why he's angry at you, and that ache burns ever brighter in your chest.

"The same friends who have tormented us, tormented you for years. How can you even ask such a thing?"

"They deserve to be helped just as much as the rest of us." you say at last, your voice quiet and on the verge of cracking with emotion. The lump in your throat gets bigger with every word you speak. "You know what it's like to grow up in an unwanted home Harry. You know that no one deserves that."

"That's not the point Meadow." he snaps and he visibly delights in the way you recoil at his words. "They're all Death Eaters. Working for his–" he points a steady finger to the boy stood beside you, "-father. Did you ever stop to think that they were buttering you up to take to him once they got wind of your powers."

You blanch at that and turn your gaze to Ginny. She gapes between the three of you and avoids Harry's eyes. "I didn't tell anyone. I promise you, Meadow." her resolute tone is the only thing grounding you to reality right now.

Harry shakes his head. "Dumbledore told me that you can siphon people's power as well as perform Occlimency. When were you going to tell us?" his anger gives way to betrayal as he looks you up and down. And the way he spits out the word 'siphon' tells you everything you need to know. He thinks you're a monster.

"I was going to tell the rest of you." you promise, not looking at Ginny again. "But only when I had a better grasp of it."

Harry scoffs and steps towards you. Rolling his eyes when Mattheo stands directly ahead of you.

"Back off Potter. If you know what's good for you."

The way his venomous lilt travels through you should make you ashamed, but it only sends sparks of arousal to your core.

Harry only looks at you from over Mattheo's shoulder, distain painting his pale face as he utters a heartbreaking sentence before he leaves, with Ginny following quickly behind him, with a silent promise to find you later and apologise for Harry's (entirely justifiable, you think) words.

"Don't go to see Ron later, and don't you dare seek us out again. I don't trust you, and I don't know if I ever will again."

Mattheo is onto you the second the pair depart, wrapping you in his arms as you collapse from the onslaught of emotion that crashes down on you.

What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? You say over and over and he does his best to comfort you, going as far as to sit against the wall, cold floor stinging against the fabric of his school trousers, cradling you into his chest.

It's okay. I'll fix it. I promise. Is all he can muster up in comfort as you crumble before his very eyes, sinking into his embrace.

~∞~

i love writing angst lol i hope you enjoyed this shortish chapter (lots of time skips im sorry)

the coming updates will probably be slow since i've gone back to uni - i have to complete three presentations and come up with a product idea and a lab report in like 5 weeks 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

i've tried to fix it and i've reported the bug but i'm still incapable of editing pretty much all of my posts (not the serendipity masterlist post though, thankfully) and its getting quite frustrating now but we move 🫡

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

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[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

Summary: Theodore Nott came to learn that an inciting incident can alter the course of history. Lucius Malfoy’s fall led to Draco’s dark mark and the death of Dumbledore. The rise of the Dark Lord urged Harry Potter into hiding and Death Eaters into prominence. And then there was Amycus Carrow, with his tainted hands on Y/N, who forced Theodore Nott to do the unforgivable.

Warnings: Sexual assault, attempted rape, graphic description of violence, panic attacks

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Non-Slytherin!Reader

Genre: Angst | Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 5.8K

All Masterlists | Theodore Nott Masterlist

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐬. The lines between the two flow steadily, each following its own cadence. And yet, despite their distinct course and the light years between them, they somehow find a way to draw parameters of joint space. Somehow, someway, they eventually overlap—meeting each other at the apex of catalysts and the twists between junctures to shape history and write the present.

Today starts like most stories do: quaint and subtle, setting the tone for an inciting incident that will tip this fable on its axis.

It’s a typical day, or as typical as it could get during Y/N’s last year at Hogwarts. She’s sitting at the far end of her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, donning the same apprehensive expression as all her classmates. The turmoil that governs the halls is a jarring contrast to the flourishing and effervescent school of witchcraft and wizardry Hogwarts once was.

In this mangled reality, there are specks of the idyllic tales she’s heard about, and witnessed, growing up. Slytherins and Gryffindors sustain their infamous rivalry while in search of their individual purpose, purebloods hold themselves on par with Merlin himself, and more often than not, students find refuge in a forgotten nuke in Hogwarts when the burden of magic becomes too heavy to bear.

In the first drafts of the story, Hogwarts held its students under one embrace. But now, as we’re nearing a hazy end, an isolating veil drapes over the school, fracturing it into fewer than four houses and dividing it more than ever before.

“Now, as Barty Crouch Junior has so tirelessly shared, you have already been acquainted with Merlin’s three most formidable spells,” Alecto Carrow, one of Voldemort’s trusted Death Eaters explains. Her heels dig into the marble floors of the classroom, their screeches ricocheting across the walls in warning. 

“The Unforgivables,” her brother Amycus eagerly finishes. His yellow teeth wither under the dim light of the darkened sun as his arms open wide. It’s unsettling how he and his sister welcome such misfortune so openly.

As it happens every single time the Carrow twins revel in the darkest boulevards of magic, Y/N shifts in her seat until she’s nearly imperceptible. Each time, her eyes rove the expanse of the classroom, seeking out the comfort of peculiar hazel eyes. Within just ten seconds, her wandering gaze comes to rest on the idle brown walls, a weight of defeat settling upon her.

Upon her reluctant return to Hogwarts this year, Y/N was met with a torrent of unimaginable changes, starting with students being separated not only based on their house but also their blood status.

Purebloods became a procession of peacocks—majestic, refined, otherworldly. Only allowed to flick around with students of the same upper class. 

Half-bloods, on the other hand, belong to inconsistent ideologies. They teeter on the precipice of honor, waiting for Death Eaters like Umbridge and whoever else is in the Ministry to decide their fate. 

Muggleborns, it's best not to get started.

Y/N doodles a few meaningless shapes, swirling her quill around the parchment as she thinks of Theodore. Lately, it's become increasingly difficult to talk to him, let alone spot him, with all the changes in place.

Her classmates know she’s not paying attention and that she's only pretending she has her nose buried deep in her notes. Her quill, which scratches against the parchment, is nothing but a ruse to get the Carrows off her scent. 

This class truly has nothing to offer except for a modicum of nostalgia and a barrage of abuse, so if the Carrows are so gullible to believe that Y/N is actively listening, then so be it. 

By now, she takes it a step further, looking up to meet the eyes of the young children brought forth by the Carrows. She’s mastered the art of stoicism to a T, gazing at their expressions without showing a measly emotion. But every single time, she finds herself transported eons back to a time when things were drastically better.

Her memories vary, depending on whatever catalyst she encounters. She recalls seeing a girl with ginger waves once, and her mind acted on autopilot, bringing her back to the times she and her friends would huddle in their common room to animatedly talk about the latest Weasley prank. 

At the previous hints of pink, she remembered Umbridge when she was finally escorted outside of Hogwarts grounds. 

And today, her memories are not too different. Bittersweet at best and wistful at most. 

She finds a boy biting down on his lower lip. He’s a Gryffindor, judging by the color of his tie, more so by his audaciousness when he decides to lift his head and contain his fear. His eyes are hazel, edging closer to honey brown underneath the dim light of the classroom. And her mind is cruel enough to conjure the image of Theodore hovering above her naked body with lustful hazel eyes and abused fiery lips. 

Theodore doesn’t particularly fancy his eye color—he doesn’t quite fancy much about himself. He’s not oblivious to his popularity, but unlike Draco Malfoy, who shines like the stars, Theodore Nott glows like the moon in a dance of subtlety and intensity; a paradoxical luminosity that always leaves Y/N in awe. 

He never particularly bothered her during their first couple of years at Hogwarts, which explains why they never interacted until their fifth year. Back when Umbridge was foul toward the student population, especially vile toward anyone of lesser blood. 

Dennis Creevey, who had been a first-year at that time, fell victim to her malice. His penance for being born to muggle parents was bloodily etched on his hand. Y/N tried to help him, even though her own hand was hurting just as badly. The healing spells didn’t counter the dark magic infused in the quills, and while she could handle the pain, the poor eleven-year-old couldn’t. 

"May I?" a voice softly breathed from behind her, causing her to jump slightly. She turned to see the unexpected sight of Theodore Nott, dressed in an emerald green tie and an aura of pristine silver. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, and her hands trembled, a reaction heightened by the delicate hints of cinnamon swirling in the air.

When Theodore pulled out his wand, Dennis cowered. And to her surprise, Theodore’s face fell. Yet he quickly covered his crestfallen expression with a mask of pure stoicism.

Y/N’s gaze meandered away from the Slytherin and settled on the young Gryffindor. “It’s okay, Dennis,” she recalled herself saying at the time, even though she hadn’t mentally given her words the green light to tumble out of her mouth. Both Dennis and Theodore seemed equally surprised, turning their heads her way. “He’s not going to hurt you.” 

Maybe it was the softness of Theodore’s hazel eyes, or maybe it was how he abstained from touching the boy's bruised hand and elected to kneel to his level. To this day, Y/N doesn’t know what exactly made her fall for Theodore at that exact moment in time. 

Yet, all she knows in certainty is that she’s in love with Theodore Aurelius Nott. Pureblood, Slytherin Elite, Son of Darkness. But what can she do if one glance at his hazel orbs leaves her drowning in the depths of his moonshine?

“Miss Y/L/N!” 

Y/N’s head jerks when a protruding voice disturbs her reverie. She chances a glance at the front of the classroom, finding Alecto Carrow’s lidded eyes on her. Bright and sage, a stark contrast to the malevolence nestled within them.

“Yes?” Y/N wonders aloud.

“Given your diligence in recording the theoretical aspect of The Unforgivables, I believe it’s time for you to engage in the practicalities of said lesson,” Alecto announces with a tone that leaves no room for negotiation or refutation. 

With a sharp nod, she ushers Y/N out of her seat, beckoning her over until she's two steps away from her. Y/N stands idly, unaware of whether she's going to role-play as the tormentor or the tormented. But her internal questions are answered the moment Amycus Carrow shoves the Gryffindor boy with hazel eyes into her line of sight.

"Go on." Alecto wears a sinister expression as she levels Y/N with a taunting smile. "Demonstrate your aptitude to the class.”

Y/N doesn't step back nor does she shy away. She clings to the apathetic front she's adopted from her boyfriend, her gaze falling on the young boy, and her thoughts drowning out Alecto's sharp voice. By the time Amycus asks her to draw out her wand, she's mustered up enough confidence to answer with a terse "no."

“What do you mean no, you insolent brat!” Alecto bellows, being the first to succumb to her temper. For a snake, she is known to be as hot-headed as a lion. 

“I refuse to perform any curse on anyone,” Y/N clarifies, purposefully refraining from calling her “professor.” And if she had half a brain cell, perhaps she would’ve figured it out. 

“Is that so?” Alecto challenges. 

“Yes.” 

“Very well, despicable half-breed. You know the rules. You’re either the rodent or the snake. Guess you’ll always be the former.” 

She's calm and aloof on the outside, but Y/N is dreading what’s coming next. She’s never fallen victim to the Cruciatus, though she has heard all about it from Theodore and his friends—even once from Harry. 

She watches with steady eyelashes as Alecto draws her wand and points it at her. Although the curse is released, and screams reverberate across the walls, both Alecto and Y/N remain silent.

To Y/N's horror, the young Gryffindor boy thrashes on the ground with clenched fists and agonizing wails. Above him, Amycus stands like a conductor, his wand beckoning the crooked notes of the boy's voice to rise to a crescendo.

Finally, the screams die down, extinguishing and feeding the anguish of every student at once. Amycus turns to address the class, dismissing them all except for one. “You go ahead, Alecto,” he directs toward his sister. “If the little mouse wishes to squeak, then she’ll have to suffer graver consequences than what you have to offer.” 

Whatever Amycus has in mind seems to appease Alecto. Her expression is mirthful as she grabs the robes of the young Gryffindor boy and sweeps him out of the class, using his body as a cleaning broom. 

The students all file out, their glances lingering on Y/N. As the last of the students leaves, Amycus turns to the young girl. 

“Your wand, Miss Y/L/N,” he demands. Y/N debates not giving it to him, but she knows if she doesn’t, he’ll come and collect it himself. So, she reluctantly hands it over. “Ah, pretty little thing. What’s the core?”

“Dragon heartstring.” 

“Fitting for a spitfire like you.” 

“I thought I was a meek little mouse,” Y/N counters, making Amycus grin. 

“You are a lot of things, little girl,” he replies as he twirls her wand in his hand. “The wood?” 

“Larch.” 

“Enlighten me, Y/L/N,” Amycus voices out. If Y/N’s a mouse, then he seems to enjoy being a cat. His long and calloused fingers trace her wand while he circles her, trying to break her resolve. “What does the wood say about you?”

The question strokes her ear, carried by Amycus’ ghastly voice. Y/N stills, not seeing where he’s going. She jolts as Amycus taps the wand against her thigh, particularly the exposed skin between her skirt and stockings. 

“It’s best paired with wizards and witches who possess hidden talents,” she replies tersely. 

The hum coming from her side indicates that Amycus is listening—paying attention, though, not so much, considering he’s rather preoccupied with poking her skin with her wand while rotating around her. 

He’s playing with his food, Y/N tells herself, knowing this is just another trick of his. Somewhere in his sadist brain, his senses are sparking with delight at the prospect of Y/N’s discomfort, relishing the power he has over her.

A part of her wants to jam her wand in his eyes, pluck his eyeballs out, and proceed to stuff each in his nostrils. But another part of her stands idle, not even blinking as he keeps up his ministrations. 

Amycus smiles, taking up more of her personal space. Y/N’s senses are lit on fire as he traces her wand across her body. “Is your mouth a part of those talents, filthy witch? You don’t talk much, but rotten girls like you must know how to use their mouths.”

“To scream, I presume,” Y/N breathes. Her quip hits Amycus right in the face, and the maniac grins. His face is painted with a nefarious glee, that of a predator eager to feast on its prey. 

SA and Attempted Rape Content Begins Here. Skip Through This Scene by Scrolling to "Scene End."

The unsettling sensation against her ribs dissipates when Amycus pulls the wand away, but the apprehension still lingers. As she mentally prepares herself for the inevitable pain that comes along with the Cruciatus, Amycus’ hand cups her chin, and his molten lips crash against hers. The sensation is so crippling and unfavorable it sends her tumbling back into the table.

The pressure on YN’s cheeks intensifies until it becomes sharp and metallic. Fingers dig into her flesh, paving a path for Amycus’ tongue to follow. Though her hands slap against his chest, legs flailing around, he continues his exploration in the depths of her throat. 

It feels like he’s finally thrown her off a cliff, yet with all the energy Y/N can muster, she pushes his body away and slaps him across the face. 

He looks at her with unadulterated rage. Y/N forgoes reading his face in favor of bolting toward the door. But before she reaches the handle, she’s yanked back by her robes. The fabric tears, as does her heart. Amycus then throws her on top of the teacher’s desk and catches both her wrists in his hand. 

“Pitty your blood is impure, little witch. If you had to match your filthy mouth with something, I’d rather it be your pussy than your blood.” 

“Get off me,” Y/N enunciates with a quiver in her voice. It seems to feed Amycus’ wicked desires because she suddenly finds him nipping at her neck in pure delight. 

“You’ve disobeyed my direct order. When witches are bad, they’re punished.”

“You’re sick!” 

“And you’re delicious.” 

Y/N takes a deep breath, burying his face further in the junction between her neck and shoulder. His kisses are filthy, heavy, frigid. They make her body feel like ice—they make her feel as if she's been snatched and thrown into the depths of the Dark Lake. 

Amycus' hands grab her waist and flip her over until her gaze meets the darkness of the desk’s wood. If the sensation of the wand against her thigh left acid in her mouth, then Amycus’ fingers left her with bile overwhelming her senses.

“What a pretty little ass you’re hiding under here. It was made to be ruined.”

Y/N doesn’t have time to panic. In fluid movements, Amycus lifts her skirt, rips off the shorts she typically wears beneath, and spanks her ass. 

She yelps, struggling against the hand against her back that’s keeping her on the desk. She’s hit one more time and then two and three. The slaps are forceful and fiery, leaving her skin scalded and singed. 

A roar erupts from the depths of her soul when she feels a finger easing her thong. The force of her scream catches Amycus off guard, enough for Y/N to elbow him and dive to the ground for her wand. 

“Cruc—”

“Oh, so now you want to cast it!” 

With ease, Amycus manages to slap Y/N’s wand away. He ruthlessly places his palm against her stomach, pushing her back to the ground. 

Her head aches from the force of the blow, a scream barrelling through the space between her lips when Amycus towers over her, digging his obsidian nails into her skin. 

“It’s a shame that the most delightful toys happen to be the filthiest. Maybe this will teach you and your kind that you will forever remain beneath us.”

Y/N cries as Amycus incapacitates her lips. She squirms underneath his body, vaguely aware of the fabric he’s tearing in half, though oblivious to what clothing item it belongs to. 

She tries to non-verbally cast a spell, but her mind is too distracted to focus on the incantation. All she knows is that she needs to get Amycus off her. And yet, no amount of strength in her hands or her spells manages to draw him to a stop. 

His spit traces her lower lip, tantalizingly closing the distance between her mouth and collarbone. Y/N shudders, bellowing at the thought of his saliva trailing her skin. 

She wails, screams, and shouts until she realizes that Amycus probably cast Silencio without her knowing. Though futile, she tries to push his body weight off her, even resorts to kicking his ribs. 

It doesn’t work... until by some miracle from Merlin himself Amycus’ body flies toward the back wall, releasing her.

Scene End

Y/N gasps, pushing her palms against the tiled floor and lifting herself to a sitting position. Her chest heaves as she looks at the discarded fabric of her skirt, the scattered buttons of her shirt, and the remains of her robe that are haphazardly strewn across the room. 

Faint sounds register at the back of her mind. A heavy breath, mirroring her own, emanates from behind, accompanied by an erratic heartbeat that matches hers. Amidst it all, she picks up on Amycus’s forlorn groans, muffled by the surrounding darkness. Resilient ropes now bind his hands and feet, rendering him completely motionless.

“Get Y/N out of here,” a voice orders. It’s far away—at least, Y/N thinks so. But despite the fog around its edges, she can somehow sense the enmity lacing it. 

Before she can process the shadows creeping closer to her side, a robe is draped over her shoulders as arms wrap securely around her.

She thrashes against the man holding her, trying to repel his hands from her body. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he says in a low octave. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. I promise you. He can't touch you anymore.” 

The voice carries a bit of an edge, yet it’s the most soothing sound she’s heard all day. Her lips quiver as she internally fights with her thoughts, head spinning and shaking in defeat. 

The halls around her move fast, time seemingly irrelevant at this point. She’s crying and mumbling incoherently, burying her face in the fabric of this stranger’s clothes, which smell like a familiar blend of mint and citrus. 

The robe is wrapped tighter around her shoulders, and she receives a faint squeeze as she’s brought up a staircase. Words are whispered, a door is opened, and voices mingle with one another until a delicate tone enters her headspace.

“Draco, who’s that you’re carrying?” 

“It’s Y/N,” the male voice, the one belonging to Draco, replies. Draco kicks open a door and places Y/N on the bed. She wails even more at the action, curling herself into a ball—at this point, she doesn’t know if she should be relieved or terrified.

“What the hell happened to her?” 

“Lower your voice, Pansy! Can’t you see she’s scared enough?” 

Pansy stutters for a few seconds before asking again, “Who did this to her?” 

Draco hesitates, looking between the two young women. “Amycus,” he replies. And though it’s barely a mumble, it’s enough to send Y/N spiraling. 

Pansy’s jade eyes tread carefully as they peer over Y/N’s frail body. She sees the red marks on her hands and the blood that seeps from the cuts on her face. “Cruciatus?” she asks, but something in her tone makes it obvious that it’s just wishful thinking. 

“No,” Draco answers. Y/N’s sniffles and shudders fill the air as Pansy and Draco exchange silent glances. Y/N clutches her throat, rubbing it to try and get herself more oxygen. 

“What do we do?” 

Draco's footsteps echo as he retreats toward the door. “You're going to her clean up. If Theo hasn’t killed Amycus yet, I’m going to join him in his pursuit.”

There was something in that last line that clamped agony around Y/N’s heart, squeezing like a vice. She wept, only vaguely conscious of Pansy’s soothing touch in her hair and the remnants of Draco's anger looming around the room.

The mirror in the bathroom captures two girls in its glassy frame. One of them is put together while the other looks worse for wear. Y/N stares at her wild reflection, moroseness painting her irises. A tiny sob escapes her barely parted lips, and Pansy decides to tear Y/N’s attention away from the broken girl staring at them through the mirror. 

She softly holds Y/N's hand and helps her to the shower, turning her head when Y/N undresses and then carefully cleans her blotched skin. Once they’re done, she lends Y/N some pajamas and underwear, giving her the privacy and space to change into them before helping her dry her hair.

Wordlessly, Pansy leads Y/N away from the mirror. Her grip is firm as she swings open the bathroom door. Y/N squints against the sudden invasion of light from the room beyond. Her gaze takes in the expanse of her surroundings and the rich emerald hue of the Head Dorm's walls. Then, her eyes lock on two men. One with platinum blond hair and the other with brunette locks, both embracing the shadows with deadly intent in their fiery eyes.

She bristles, caught between shying away and clutching the attention she’s receiving from them. Y/N doesn’t dwell on their appearance for too long, afraid to develop the ability to read their eyes and stumble across the shame and pity possibly nestled within them. 

Pansy whispers something under her breath, which Y/N fails to hear under the barrage of despondency she finds herself in. She feels Pansy’s hesitant touch on her forearm, briefly catching her and Draco retreating away, the door to the room closing behind them in a soft thud. 

Silence runs freely around the room, undeterred by the confined space. Its loudness disturbs Y/N, forcing her to wince. She wills herself to say something, but all the words are lodged in her throat, searing it from the inside out.

Theodore takes a deep breath, the sound piercing the stillness in the air. But his words don’t leave his mouth the same way his gaze never paces beyond a fixed point on the ground. 

“Why are you not looking at me?” Y/N asks. She’s surprised that she’s articulated her thoughts even though she doesn’t have enough strength to speak.

Theodore shakes his head. “I can’t”. His words have finally forced his gaze away from the ground, although he’s refusing to settle it on her.

“I wouldn’t look at me either. I get it.” Y/N sniffles. Darkness clouds her sight. She’s tired and aching, barely finding her grip on reality. 

She wants to scream, and she wants to cry, but it’s like she doesn’t know how. Like her mainframe has been hijacked and forced to shut down. 

Something in her periphery catches her attention. Theodore is now standing before her, hands trembling by his sides. They move to embrace her waist, to hold her shoulders, to cup her face; but they never do. They only trace invisible lines that mirror her figure. It’s then that she notices the fray in his gaze. Instead of the rejection and the indifference she expected to find, there’s dejectedness, misery, and pain. 

“I would look at you forever if you let me,” Theodore answers with his hands hanging in the space between them. “If you would still allow me.”

“Touch me,” Y/N retorts. Hold me, find me, fix me, love me.

And Theodore does just that with unprecedented gentleness. He traces her cheeks with his thumb and pulls her by the waist closer to his side. His nose nuzzles her neck, breathing in her scent. His lips press against the shell of her ear, his warm breath penetrating her soul and sending a fond tingle down her spine. 

He touches her, not like she’s a porcelain doll or a bomb about to detonate. Theodore touches her like she’s the most precious piece of art he’s ever encountered, and he’s afraid that even one stumbled breath could force her colors away.

“I love you,” he confesses. A loan tear accompanies his declaration, inscribing the words on the fabric of Y/N’s soul. “And I am so sorry. So sorry, my love, for what my absence and negligence have put you through.”

“Theo…”

“No, Y/N. Don’t. Don’t try to say anything.” 

Theodore wipes her tears, gently tucking some loose strands of her hair behind her ears. Y/N nods, allowing her boyfriend to hoist her in his arms and carry her to bed. She hides her face in his neck, absorbing the lingering traces of his sandalwood perfume. 

When he places her on the bed, she notices the change in his demeanor as soon as she tangles her legs with his and rushes to press his hands against his chest. Her eyes fill with tears, and she fails to prepare herself for the rejection that she’s afraid might be rushing her way. 

To her astonishment, Theodore pulls her into a tighter hug, as if seeking a connection beyond the surface, binding together not only their skin but also the intricate layers below—souls, hearts, atoms.

“Did he…” Theodore pauses, choking on unspoken words. “Did he go far?”

Y/N shook her head. “No. You and Draco came just in time.”

“Barely,” Theodore denies. A stolen glance gives Y/N a clear view of his clenched jaw and crestfallen expression. The war may be looming, yet to find its way to the Wizarding World, but it has already made a dominion in Theodore’s features. 

“Just in time.” Minutes pass while Y/N is cocooned protectively in between Theodore’s strong arms. They encase her, filling her being with the placidity and the tenderness that was robbed of her some time ago. Her eyes close, darkness not as fearful as it seemed now that Theodore’s hands are weaving through her hair, and his voice is carrying a tender lullaby. “How did you know?”

Theodore’s hands falter and the lullaby ends on an abrupt note. His arms pull Y/N closer to his chest as he ruefully explains what happened, “A Gryffindor boy found me. He was frightened and jittery. At first, I thought it was because Draco and I were standing together. Then he said something about Defense class, the Carrows, and the Cruciatus. Your name got suddenly tangled in the gruesomeness of it all, so I rushed to the class as far as I could." 

“They wanted me to hurt him,” Y/N whispers in a small voice.

“I know.”

“I couldn’t do it.”

Theodore looks at her with glassy eyes. “I know you would never.” 

His hands sooth Y/N, featherless touches easing the altercation in her soul. She meets his gaze, heart shattering at the pain he harbors. She knows it’s not easy for Theodore to be a silent witness to torture and heartache, understanding his unconscious pursuit of absorbing pain and rooting it in his very being.

“Please,” she begins, “please, Theo. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I’ve failed you.”

“You haven’t.”

He declines vehemently, “I promised to protect you from the darkness, within me and beyond me. And I have clearly done neither.”

You had no way of knowing! Y/N argued in her head. You, alone, cannot stop this madness! So many rebuttals swarmed her head. She wanted to pelt Theodore with every single one of them until some sense got knocked into him. “Darkness,” he says so loosely as if he’s ever exposed her to any of it. 

All her memories of Theodore exuded radiance, softness, and peace. He’s only ever steered her away from the darkness, whether it was from Umbridge’s rage back in their fifth year or Bellatrix’s terror at the end of their sixth. 

To hear him speak of himself like this, as if he’s one of them, a shadow branded by the mark of death, hurts her more than everything Amycus did to her. 

“What did you do to Amycus?”

The name causes Theodore’s heart to falter beneath the palm of Y/N’s hands. Her eyes trace the veins of his neck, astounded by the voraciousness of their color as his anger escalates. “Do not say that vermin’s name.” 

Darkness, Theodore would call it if he sees himself now. And yet, all the world is witnessing according to Y/N is a darker shade of love and concern: just as sincere, a lot more warm. 

“Carrow,” she concedes. “What did you do to Carrow?”

“I wanted to kill him,” Theodore answers, studying Y/N’s face for a reaction. “I almost killed him.” If he was looking for disgust or worse, fear, he couldn’t find it.

“And why didn’t you?”

“Draco called for Snape.”

Y/N hums, absentmindedly reaching for Theodore’s hand. He hesitates when he feels her fingers entwining with his, his entire body tensing up. Y/N whines, and he takes a deep breath. His fingers lace hers, squeezing her hand before bringing it to his lips. 

“Are you in trouble?”

“No, treasure. No one but that scum is. Snape said nothing. He bound his hands and escorted him to his office.”

“Good,” Y/N replies.

“That’s not all,” Theodore intercedes, catching her attention. She shifts in his arms, waiting for his next words with a bated breath. “We’re getting out of here.”

“What?” came Y/N’s question, loud, sharp, and clear. It resonated across the room, its intensity surprising her.

“I didn’t kill him,” Theodore admits. He’s moved now, body peering away from Y/N’s hold to better study her features. She keeps them the way they are, with no sign of the acrimony or the resentment she suspects Theodore is looking for. “But I uttered the curse. Draco countered it somehow, and it rebounded. Hit the wall instead. It cracked it, the same way I cracked every single bone in his body and watched him bleed.”

As the words fill the space between them, Y/N rushes to grab Theodore’s hands. She inspects them, surprised to find them bruising. How did I not notice this? She whimpers at her late realization—her neglect. But now that his marred skin is beneath the scrutiny of her gaze, she notices that the blue and purple hues are rather dull in comparison to his story.

Almost as if Theodore understood her silent concerns, he says, “Cruciatus.” Y/N bristles, though her body is traitorous. It jolts, feeling the residue of the invisible needles and acid-laced knives. “Sectumsempra and a number of other curses that flew out of my mouth without thought when I saw you lying on the ground, bloody, bruised, broken. Torn apart by a mediocre middle-aged man, who deserves nothing but to be decapitated, torn limb by limb, until there’s not even a speck of his ashes left on the—”

“Theo,” Y/N calls. Her voice quivers, mirroring the tremble in her body provoked by those words. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Theodore sniffs, head bending down. 

Y/N rushes to answer, shaking her head violently. “No. I can’t… I can’t watch you tear yourself apart over something you had no control over.”

“I—”

“Listen to me! Listen to me and not the lies inside your head. Does it hurt? Yes. Does it burn? More than a Fienfyre cast by the Dark Lord himself. But you weren’t there—no, Theo, come back to me and stop traveling in time inside your head.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Theo defended. “Merlin, Y/N. I was supposed to be there! To stop all of this from happening. You’re in pain more than I am. So, stop subduing my anger!”

“I’m subduing your self-deprecation! I’m not blaming you, and I will not fan the flames of your anger. You had no way, no way, of knowing Carrow would do this.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” he answers with a little less fight and a lot more shame. 

“And you did, Theo,” Y/N assures, bringing herself closer to his side. “You got me out. You saved me. In time.”

“Barely!” Theodore screams, a deluge of tears running down his cheeks and burying his resolve in their undertow. “But I will save you this time. I’ll get you out. Both of us. I’ll take you away, somewhere you won’t be judged for your blood or your mistake in choosing me.”

“You’re not a mistake,” Y/N refutes, begging him to see. “Look at you. You call yourself a vision of darkness when your love and care are shining through.”

“My love is darkness, viciousness, and cruelty.” It’s almost as if he’s the one begging her to understand.

Tears cascade down Y/N’s cheeks, the saltiness and bitterness of them incomparable to Theodore’s words. “Your love is fierceness,” Y/N professes, taking Theodore’s breath away, “seamlessness, and warmth.”

“I made you live through pain,” Theodore pleads, hoping she agrees. But she doesn't.

“And I will live after it. With you.”

The confession shatters the last of Theodore’s resolve. He pulls Y/N closer, resting his chin atop her head and enveloping her in a secure embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he cries. His fingers weave through her hair, gripping the back of her head, anchoring himself in her presence—convincing himself that she’s here. “You are so strong, treasure. Stronger than life and death, brighter than light, and fiercer than shadows. I love you, my Y/N. And I swear on your head and on my mother’s last breath that I will protect you even if I have to do the unforgivable. No one will ever hurt you ever again.”

“I know,” Y/N nods as Theodore kisses the crown of her head. Each breath he takes, every word he utters, stitches through her soul, mending the threads of herself. “And I love you all the more for it.”

“You’ve endured a war. I’ll be damned if I let you face another,” Theodore promises, capturing Y/N’s lips and seamlessly merging his soul with hers.

Tomorrow remains uncertain, and control extends only so far across the horizon. Yet, with Theodore by her side, Y/N finds the darkness considerably less formidable. Even if he's willing to commit the unforgivable to shield her, forgiveness is a given. His love is the tranquility that follows the tempest, and she's ready to navigate through destruction with Theodore.

I never expected to write about a topic as painful and sensitive as SA or rape.

Hearing the multiple accounts of women around me made me see how these experiences are prevalent yet scarcely communicated. When I wrote this piece, it was with no intention to diminish the seriousness of the issue but rather use this platform as a conduit to raise the matter and bring it to light. Whether you’ve been personally impacted by this disheartening situation or witnessed someone close to you go through this, I want you to know that you are not alone. You are incredibly brave for enduring this, and there is no reason to feel ashamed. You lived through it and will live after it with even more fierceness and courage than you've ever had.

If you ever feel like talking, please know that I am here to listen, without judgment or reservation. 🤍

All-Fandom Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

We Got That Love, The Crazy Kind

Mattheo Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2153

Warnings: Suggestive, fluff, mild language, torture, blood…

Prompt: Mattheo is awkward about showing affection to you in public, so you both are in a bit of an argument. However, Lavendar has a crush on Mattheo and you’ve had enough. Oliver decides to flirt with you and Mattheo wasn’t having it.

*Y/N’s POV*

“How long are you and Mattheo going to keep up this silent treatment?” Pansy asks, the both of us walking towards the courtyard.

“Until he can start treating me like I’m his girlfriend. I’m tired of the way he treats me in public. It’s like…he’s embarrassed of me.” I say, shaking my head upset.

I saw that he was sitting by a tree with Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zambini, Draco Malfoy, and Theodore Nott. Our friends, however since this whole argument with Mattheo and I started, I’ve been sitting elsewhere with Pansy.

She didn’t have to sit with me, but she was a good friend even though I knew how close she was with the guys. Not to mention, Draco is her boyfriend. Yet, she decides to sit with me so I won’t be alone.

“I heard he broke up with her.” I hear.

“Yeah. They did. Because he couldn’t get enough of me. Mattheo…he’s good.” Lavender says.

“Whatever you do, and whatever your thinking, don’t do it.” Pansy pleads, but I stand as she curses.

I start walking towards the table she sat at with her friends as Pansy started to speed walk towards the tree where the guys were. I grabbed Lavendar by her hair and she cries out in pain. I drag her off the bench and let her fall to the ground. I wait until she stands up, glaring at me. I lunge at her, pinning her to the wall as I punch her repeatedly.

All I saw was red.

I’ve heard girls talk about Mattheo, but typically they stop when they see the glare I give them. Lavender doesn’t know when to stop.

“I don’t know what your obsession with my boyfriend is, but I’ve had it.” I snap breathlessly between punches.

“Ms. Y/L/N, enough.” Umbridge warns.

I ignore her when I see her pull her wand out. She points it at me.

“Petrificus Totalus!” She shouts, but I pulled my wand free, pointing it in the direction of her and shout, “Protego!”

She gasps, seeming shocked I would fight a spell. I let Lavendar fall to the ground as her friends rush towards her. I look at Umbridge who looked red in the face and was ready to fire another spell off at me.

“Expelliarmus!” I shout.

Her wand goes flying away from her and I storm out of the courtyard, heading towards the Slytherin dorms. I get to mine, slamming the door shut and locking it before going to my bathroom. I close the door, locking it as I look at myself in the mirror.

What have I done?

I’m suppose to mad at him, yet I can’t ignore what Lavendar says…he wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t be with someone else…right? No…that’s…that’s not my Mattheo.

Who said he was still your Mattheo?

I shake my head, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. I turn the water on and watch the water turn a red-pink color as it washes away Lavendar’s and I’s blood. I grab my wand, pointing at one hand.

“Episkey.” I whisper.

I watch the hand heal before I grab my wand and point it at my other hand, doing the same. I look at myself in the mirror. Who have I become?

I was forced to stand at the front of the class and receive my punishment from Umbridge. She grabs her chair and makes me sit.

“You’ll be punished for the fight you started and then you’ll be punished for ignoring orders from a Professor.” She says.

She gave me a notepad and a quill. I was very aware of what this meant.

“How many lines?” I ask.

“I’ll let you know when it’s finished. I want you to write, “I will not disobey orders”, understood?” She asks.

“Understood.” I say shortly.

I clench my jaw, starting to write my lines as if it didn’t bother me. I ignored the stinging at the back of my eyes and focused on the quill in hand as she taught away. I take in a slow deep breath before letting it out. Blood dripped down my hand and was dripping to the floor. My hands shook slightly, but I continued to do as asked.

“Alright. Good. It’s been half the class. How’s your hand?” She asks.

“Peachy.” I say bluntly, looking up at her with a blank stare.

“Is this you talking back?” She asks.

“You’d know if I was talking back. What next?” I ask.

“I don’t think your punishment is working,” she says as she pulls her wand out, “imperio.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

“Take the quill, write on your arm. Write mudblood. Until I say stop.” She says.

“You can’t do this!” Mattheo snaps.

“It’s against the rules.” Harry adds, looking quite frightened.

I grimace as I bring the quill to my arm and it digs into it as I write the saying I’ve heard all across my life. I close my eyes, my hand moving and continuously writing “mudblood” into my arm, going deeper each time.

“Mr. Riddle, Mr. Potter, enough. I can punish my students how I like. Maybe this will teach her a lesson.” She says, before going back to teaching.

I opened my eyes, looking at the word that was carved into my arm. A word that haunts me far too much. Maybe that’s why Mattheo is so embarrassed of me. I’m a mudblood. That is who I will always be.

“Alright Ms. Y/L/N, you can stop.” She says and I felt a weight lifted off me.

I throw the quill and pad of paper in her direction as I stand, walking out of the room as I ignore her calls. I get to the Slytherin dorms and Snape stops me.

“It’ll scar, but let me heal it.” He says.

“It’s fine.” I mutter.

He grabs my arm with a sigh, using his wand to heal it. I nod before walking away towards my dorm where I close the door and lock it.

I pull my shirt off and pull on a long-sleeve, wanting to hide that horrid word before I lay on my bed. I hear a knock on my door, but I ignore it.

“It’s me.” Pansy says.

I stay quiet, staring at the wall. She sighs, knocking again.

“Let me in. Let us in. We want to make sure your okay. That wasn’t okay of Umbridge to do. That was…torture.” She says.

“I’m okay. I want to be alone, so leave me alone.” I say calmly, fighting my turmoil of emotions.

I couldn’t avoid them forever. I avoided them for a good two weeks, by holing myself up in my dorm. Snape brought me my work, but he said I had to return to my classes today.

I was dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. I never wore long-sleeves, but I couldn’t get that horrid word off my arm.

I put my hair up in a messy bun, looking at myself in the mirror blankly. I’ve gotten paler over the past two weeks which could be from not eating like I normally should. I had bags under my eyes and my eyes in general just looked tired.

I grab my bag and wand before I began to head towards Umbridge’s class. I walk in and she looks at me surprised.

“And I thought you left Hogwarts.” She mocks.

“And I wish someone Avada Kedavra’d you. Yet, your still here.” I say tiredly, going to my empty seat at the back of the class.

“Do we need to repeat your punishment?” She asks.

“Go on with teaching. Your punishment did nothing the first time and I doubt it would do anything this time.” I snap.

“And detention, Potter. I said, Cedric’s death was a tragic accident.” She says, turning her focus on him.

“Like your birth?” I ask annoyed.

“Y/n, enough.” Mattheo’s whispers harshly.

“Y/L/N, leave my classroom now. I’ve had enough.” She says calmly.

“Gladly.” I say, standing to gather my stuff as she starts to lecture me.

“Umbitch. Lecturing me, and shouting at me, and telling me to hurry up isn’t going to get me to move faster. You should’ve been killed months ago cause you are such a pain in the ass. How did you end up here? Honestly because you are pretty fucked up,” I say, laughing before looking at her, “and you don’t own me.”

I walk out of the room as Draco whistles.

“Damn.” Mattheo mutters.

I was in the courtyard working on my studies as everyone else finally filed out. I was sitting at the table Pansy and I had been occupying before I holed myself up in my room. Pansy and the guys join us.

“Hey, how are you?” Pansy asks softly.

“I don’t need pity and treated like I’m so broken glass doll.” I say, flipping the page of my textbook.

“We are your friends. We care about you.” She says.

“Well care less.” I say annoyed.

“Snape said it scarred.” She says.

“And if it did?” I ask.

“I know how much you hate that word. Your a powerful witch though. Better than Granger. Let me see it.” She says.

“Y/N.” Oliver says.

“Yes, Oliver?” I ask, looking up.

“Can we talk…alone?” He asks.

My eyebrows furrow, but I nod slowly. I follow him towards a tree that wasn’t occupied, away from everyone. My eyes flicker to my table to see that they kept glancing over and Mattheo was watching intently. I didn’t miss the look of jealously.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” He asks.

“Your pathetic, Oliver! You called me over here, to ask me out when you know I have boyfriend!” I exclaim, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t have to know. And he acts like you both aren’t together anyway. I can treat you better.” He says.

“In your wildest dreams, Wood. Get away.” I snap, going to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.

I pull my arm free, backing myself up against a tree as he steps forward. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face that must’ve fallen out from the bun.

“It’s always been you, Y/L/N. Mattheo doesn’t have to know about this. You and I…we’d be a better couple. I could treat you better.” He says.

“You’re a real piece of work, Wood. I love Mattheo, even if he doesn’t show his feelings towards me in public, I love him. Nothing will happen between you and me. Now, let me go.” I snap.

*Mattheo’s POV*

“I think Oliver is flirting with her.” Draco says.

I watch her and could tell she was uncomfortable. She seems upset after whatever he says and was glaring at him. She goes to walk past him, but he grabs her arm and I clench my jaw.

“Don’t do it man.” Theo warns.

“Ah shit. He’s backed her up against the tree and is going in for a kiss.” Lorenzo says.

I get up, storming towards the two of them and I push Oliver down to the ground as Pansy pulls Y/N into a hug.

“Okay, motherfucker now you got my attention.” I say, grinning as I start throwing punches at him.

“Not again.” Lorenzo sighs.

“Mattheo! Come on man! Stop! Umbridge will flip!” Draco snaps.

He and Lorenzo were trying to pull me off of Oliver, but all I saw was red. He touched her and he knew she is mine.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again! She’s mine, Wood! Next time I’ll kill you!” I snap.

“Mattheo…please.” She whispers.

I freeze, before looking over my shoulder to see that Pansy and Theodore were holding her back from coming to me. I’ll thank them for that later. Oliver hits me, and I turn back to him and hit him again before getting up.

I walk to her, pulling her towards me. She looks up at me with watery eyes. I lose a hand in her hair, messing up the bun. I pull her closer to me as I lean down and kiss her roughly.

Her hands rest on my chest as she kisses me back. I pull away, resting my head against her forehead as I look into her gorgeous (your eye color) eyes.

“I love you.” She says softly.

“Your mine.” I snap.

“I’m yours.” She says, smiling slightly.

I pull away before throwing her over my shoulder. She gasps, hitting my back as she snaps at me to put her down.

“Not happening. I’ll put you down when we get to my dorm.” I say and her cheeks flush as Draco “ooohs”.

“Mattheo!” She exclaims embarrassed.

“They got that love.” Lorenzo chuckles.

“Yeah, the crazy kind.” Pansy teases.

[slytherweasley]

Mine now (Pansy Parkinson x reader)

Warnings: smut, public teasing & dirty talk, oral female giving/receiving, rimming

Summary: y/n is obsessed with Pansy which intrigues Pansy so she invites y/n to a party in hopes to get to know each other.

You’d zoned out and completely shifted your attention to Pansy who was sitting across the room. Every chance you’d see Pansy you’d always be mesmerised by her. Her radiant confidence and beauty is what attracts you and everyone else to her.

You’d never spoken a word to her and you’re not sure she knows your name.

Pansy turns her head to look over at you and catches you before you could look away but she gives you a quick glance before looking away. You’re sure she knows something is up by the way you’re always looking at her.

After class you meet up with some of your friends you see Pansy walking past with her Slytherin friends. A few of your friends groan when they notice her “She thinks she’s better than everyone” you stay out of the conversation.

Everywhere she walks, people move out of the way for her, most people including you are intimidated.

At lunch you sit at the Ravenclaw table waiting for your friends to arrive when someone sits beside you. You look over to see Daphne Greengrass, Pansy’s friend. You can’t lie you started to panic, did Pansy send her here to tell you to back off?

“There’s going to be a Slytherin party tomorrow night, it’s invite only and you have to have the password to get in so no friends are allowed just you.” Daphne continues to tell you the password and not to mention it to anyone. She gets up and walks away.

You were quite confused, you weren’t friends with any Slytherins which is why it doesn’t make sense you would be invited unless she mistakenly confused you for someone else.

You got ready for the party and lied to your dorm mates and said you were going on a date and not to wait up for you. You assumed Pansy would be there so you dressed up a bit and put on some makeup.

You made your way to the Slytherin common rooms and gave the password. The common room was filled with people everywhere. You walk over to grab a drink and spot Pansy in a circle of friends. You make eye contact and she looks away again.

You skull your drink and pour another one, you didn’t know anyone here well enough to hang out with so you just tried to enjoy yourself. You’d kept your eye on Pansy and finally she was alone. You felt enough confidence partly because the alcohol helped numb your anxiety.

“Hey” you say “Hi” she replies “I’ve wanted to talk to you for months but I can never seem to find you alone” “what do you want?” She asks bluntly.

You take a deep breath in “do you want to dance?” “With you?” “Yes” “then yes.” You take her hand and drag her to where everyone is dancing. You hold onto her hips as she grinds on you.

Her bum moves against your pussy and you feel yourself getting wetter as she grinds on you. Your hands don’t leave her hips until she turns to face you pressing a kiss to your jaw. She slips her hand under your skirt and rubs you over your underwear. You had to keep quiet because it was still crowded and anyone could look over.

“Fuck I can feel how wet you are” she whispers in your ear breathing heavily. Her hand quickly slips into your underwear as she rubs up and down making your legs quiver. You hold onto her tightly as you start whimpering and moaning trying to keep quiet “that’s it, tell me how bad you want me” “so much, I want your mouth and your fingers and your pussy, I want all of you.”

Pansy stops rubbing your pussy and you sneak away from the party to her dorm. She starts stripping as she gets inside and helps you out until you’re both completely naked. She lays you on the bed and starts to kiss you, if felt like a dream, her naked body pressed against yours as you kiss.

“I’ve always dreamt about this” you mumble between kisses “I’m about to make all your dreams come true.”

She pulls away and makes her way between your thighs, she presses soft kisses that turn into more passionate and hungry kisses. Her lips kiss up to your pussy and she begins to eat you out. Her tongue laps up your cunt as she tastes you. “Fuck so good.” you moan.

Pansy positions her pussy on your face as you eat her out she can give the same pleasure. Each lick of her clit, she lets out a small moan against your clit.

Her tongue moves from your pussy to your ass where she places a small kiss and her tongue teases your entrance. Her tongue swirls around rimming your hole. “So pretty” she mutters.

Both of your mouths consistently work at each other until you’re both so close. “Make me cum” Pansy demands.

You both moan against each other’s pussys as you finish. Pansy lays beside you pressing a kiss to your mouth.

“You’re mine now, I don’t do casual I do exclusive relationships” she says looking lovingly into your eyes “perfect because I don’t want anything less than that” you reciprocate the kiss to her lips.

[tomriddleslove]

What’s left of me?

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where your pursuit for excellence leads you down a path of self destruction, and you’re slowly loosing yourself. You didn’t expect a certain boy in your year would be your saving grace. Alternatively: Mattheo makes you realise you’re more than what you think you are.

A/N: I guess this could very easily be like a prequel to the other mattheo one shot ‘i’m here’. This is definitely a bit self indulgent but we all have our things 😻😻

Warnings: Allusions to overdosing (brief), mentions of not eating.

Songs: Nothings New - Rio Romeo

18 days.

18 days till you would be finished with all of this.

Technically, it would actually be 408 days till you finished school and graduated from this godforsaken place, but 18 more till you finished with exams.

You weren’t sure how many more hours you could spend hunched over indecipherable handwriting, pouring over text till your eyes stung and your back ached. Surrounded by a stack of books and rolls of parchment, you couldn’t even begin to figure out where you ended and the library began. You had taken up a huge table (that could seat at least 4) for the better part of 17 hours, sat on the same chair since 6:00 am.

You stifle a small groan of pain as you roll your wrist, stiff and sore from the hell that was ancient runes.

There are ink splotches all over your skin, and you’re sure the amount of work you were pouring into this stopped being effective nearly 5 hours ago.

Your eyes flicker up and scan over the once-packed library that had slowly dwindled down to a few students, half of whom were in the same boat as you.

To you, being the last person in the library was a huge sign of success. It meant you were more dedicated and more hard-working.

In reality, the truth couldn’t be any further from that, but in your mind, if you weren’t milking yourself over every last piece of work it simply wasn’t being done right.

The hushed murmurs and sounds of parchment being unfurled fade into the background as your quill scratches furiously against the parchment, mind running at a million miles an hour.

You ignore the pang in your stomach as you work; you haven’t eaten today. You didn’t want to get up at any point to get food, for fear of your place being taken.

Now, you didn’t want to get up for another reason. It was well past the library's open hours and Madame Pince was angrily fussing about, bustling around everyone as she got them to leave. A testament to how long you had been there, she didn’t even seem to notice you, and you were worried getting up and walking about would break this sort of invisibility shield you had going on.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t really drunk any water either. You brought your bottle with you but had forgotten to fill it up. It was fine though, the human body could last for 3 days without water - it could wait. Your upcoming exams were far more important.

In Scandinavia, the Elder Futhark remained in use until some time around the eighth century (the time of the Eddas), when drastic changes in the Old Norse language occurred, and corresponding changes in the runic alphabet were made to accommodate the new sounds. However, unlike the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the Younger Futhark (as it is now called) reduced the number of runes from 24 to 16, and several runes came to represent multiple sounds. The forms of the runes were also changed and simplified.

Gods, you couldn't take this anymore. You felt sick and exhausted. You ignore the hunger that gnaws at your stomach, rubbing a hand over your face as you contemplate finishing off and going to bed.

But every time you think of stopping a horrible feeling emerges in your stomach, consuming you with anxiety. The weight of impending exams and the fear of not doing well gnawing at your determination. You glance at the clock, realizing it's well past midnight, and the library is now completely empty except for you.

Madame Pince, finally noticing your presence, approaches with a disapproving look. "You know, the library does close at a certain hour. I can't have students staying here all night," she scolds, but her tone softens as she sees the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Sorry. I lost track of time” You mumble, haphazardly cramming your stuff into your bag. You get up, and the room spins for a second. You stumble but manage to catch yourself, holding onto the table as Madam Pince reaches out a hand to help you recover.

“You need to take care of yourself. No exam is worth this much stress,” She says, eyeing you with concern. If only she knew how far that was from the truth. You felt as though you had so little to your name. Performing well, overachieing. That was what you were known for. It was the only thing you felt was yours. Everyone else had character, they were distinctly themselves. They had hobbies, interests, and friendships that defined them. But for you, it was always about excelling academically. Without that, you became nobody. You were no more than the number on your papers, and the reminder weighed down on you like an unrelenting burden.

By some miracle you manage to stumble down the empty halls of the castle into the Slytherin common room, which seemed paradoxically warm considering its grandiose stone structure and dark, moody lighting. You carelessly drop your bag onto a table closest to the fireplace, trudging up to your room as you battle the sleep that threatens to consume you.

It's dark, and your roommates have long gone to bed.

“Lumos” You murmur, hiding the blinding light that emerges from the tip of your wand with the lining of your school robes, dimming it slightly. You grope blindly at your bedside drawer, stopping when you feel the familiar smooth glass bottle, that fits perfectly in your palm. You slip it into the pocket of your robes, slowly shutting the drawer as you make your way back down to the common room. You dismiss the light that shines from your wand, tossing it onto the sofa as you take a seat on the floor, in front of the low table. You read the instructions on the back of the small bottle as if you hadn’t been consuming this religiously for the past month.

Wideye potion User Guidance:

Take no more than one teaspoon every 6 hours. Effects will last for up to 8 hours. Excessive use of this potion may lead to adverse effects, and in rare cases, severe bodily harm. Users are advised not to use the maximum dosage for a consecutive 72 hours.

You’ve read it so many times, you were sure you could recite it by heart. Choosing not to heed any warnings, you pop open the cork and down the whole bottle in one go. The rancid taste of the potion burns, eliciting a shudder down your spine as you swallow down the bile that threatens to emerge. Pocketing the empty glass bottle, you stretch your arms before retrieving your books, ready to continue working.

If you were lucky, the potion might give you a boost of energy for about 3 hours or so. You had been taking it so much you had developed a sort of immunity to it, and the effects were not as potent as they used to be. The sacrifice of your well-being for the sake of productivity had become a routine, a desperate attempt to squeeze every ounce of time and focus out of your exhausted mind and body.

You have attempted to brew a stronger concoction, in the misplaced hopes that increasing the potency would counteract the effect of the immunity. However, the violent cramps and palpitations it had given you very quickly told you that wouldn't work.

You knew it was bad. It was causing irreversible damage to your body, killing you at worst. It simply wasn't sustainable. But you couldn't drag yourself out of that mindset.

Failure. Nobody.

You gritted your teeth and carried on working.

You managed to get through another potions essay, and the time on your watch read 1:00 am.

You could carry on for longer, right?

You zone out for a second, staring off at the orange embers that emerged from the fireplace, shining bright for what seemed like a millisecond before falling to the floor, turning into nothing but ash.

The orange embers flicker, and for a moment, you see yourself in them – a fleeting brightness that threatens to be extinguished. The battle between ambition and self-preservation rages on as you grit your teeth and carry on working, oblivious to the embers slowly falling into nothingness, much like your own fading sense of self.

“Why on earth are you up at this hour doing work?” A voice calls from behind you, and the momentary intrusion shocks you, sending a burst of energy through you as you spin around.

Flopping down onto the sofa next to you, leaning back with his legs lazily outstretched, was none other than Mattheo Riddle. Clad in a plain grey sweatshirt and black jeans, he eyes you with curiosity, smelling distinctively of smoke. He had most likely been out, as he so usually was at this hour. You shrug, turning back to your work.

“Exams. Need to revise” You mumble, voice cracking. You swallow, massaging your dry throat as you grimace, trying to get back to your writing.

“Revise? Merlin, you're the smartest person in our year. You don't need to be revising” Matthep leans forward, plucking a piece of parchment from your pile and examining it with a raised eyebrow.

You snatch it back, a protective instinct kicking in despite the fatigue. You hated that sentiment. Despised it, even. People always assumed your performance came naturally. That you were simply born with the ability to do well. No one seemed to consider what you had to do to get to that point, how you wore yourself down, day in and day out, till you either passed out from exhaustion or pain, neglecting your most basic needs.

"I might be the 'smartest' person, but that doesn't mean I can afford to slack off," you reply, a hint of frustration in your voice. The adrenaline from the sudden interruption starts to ebb away, leaving you feeling even more drained.

Mattheo leans back, momentarily caught off guard by your defensiveness. He had never seen you this on edge. He was so accustomed to seeing you as this familiar presence during the school day his partner for the many lessons that he didn’t have his friends in. The two of you would work together and on rare occasions, hang out with one another in the common room as well. It was a rather unlikely duo, the king of Slytherin and the academic prodigy. Yet, More often than not Mattheo found himself seeking out your presence. He never admitted it outright, but he hugely admired you. Your intelligence, your drive, it all captivated him. There were times when he hoped he could be only half the person you were.

How funny it was, for you felt the very same thing when you saw him. He seemed content. Happy. He was loved by nearly everyone. Popular, with a fun social life. He had everything you wanted without putting in any of the work.

You wanted to be like him. But you weren’t. And if you wanted anything like what he had, you had to work damn hard for it. So that's what you did. With a small sigh, you turn back to your work.

“Hey,” He says gently, his voice softening slightly. "I’m sorry. I say stupid things sometimes.” He apologies, brows furrowed as he looks at your back facing him.

“It's fine. I should be saying sorry. You didn't say anything, I just…. I’m just a bit tired, that's all.” You mumble, apologising as you get up. You stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you wearily rub your eyes.

“I'm gonna run up to my room and grab some more parchment. I’ll be down in a second,” You say, shrugging off your school robe as you turn to walk away. You ascend the stairs leading to your dorm, tossing your robe onto the sofa next to Mattheo as you do so.

Your robe slides off the sofa and hits the floor, a faint clinking sound echoing through the empty room as you disappear.

Curious, Mattheo looks down at your carelessly discarded robe. He reaches down, picking it up. It weighs heavier than it should be, and Mattheo can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity, He eyes the now empty staircase before reaching into your pocket, fingers brushing against a smooth glass vial.

Not just one, but a few.

Frowning, he turns out your pocket, and four identical glass vials tumble into his lap. Picking one up, his frown only deepens as he reads the label.

“Wideye potion?” He mutters to himself, the confusion on his face morphing into something else as the pieces fit in place.

He had admired you for your intelligence and drive, and now he was confronted with the reality of your struggles. The contrast between your achievements and the seemingly carefree moments he sought with you becomes stark. He berates himself for not having noticed early, for having let you fall down such a destructive path.

Jaw clenched, he gazes at the piles of books you had been working through, rolling the empty vials between his fingers as the sound of your approaching footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts.

You pause in confusion, noticing the scrutinising depression plastered on his face as he looks up at you, rolls of parchment bundled in your hands.

"What's the Wideye potion for?" Mattheo questions, his voice cutting through the silence with an uncomfortable heaviness. He holds up the empty vials as evidence, his gaze piercing through the exhaustion in your eyes.

Caught off guard by the confrontation, you glance down at the vials and then meet Mattheo's eyes. A brief moment of silence hangs in the air, the crackling embers of the fireplace filling the empty silence.

“Research. For uh, potions.” You respond, internally berating yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse.

Mattheo's expression remains stern, a mix of frustration and genuine concern etched on his face.

"Don't bullshit me," he says, his tone direct and uncompromising. "I found these in your pocket, and 'potions research' is a shit excuse. I’m going to ask you again. What’s the wideye potion for?"

You shift uncomfortably, feeling small under his scrutinising gaze You clear your throat, speaking.

"It's just to stay awake, you know? To keep going. I only take it in extreme circumstances" you explain, your voice betraying the exhaustion that has settled in.

Mattheos jaw clenches, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he looks to the side with a sigh, visibly frustrated.

“Extreme? And what would that be, hmm? Because right now I'm looking at four empty bottles, and God knows how many more you’ve thrown away.” He snaps, his expression softening as he looks at you.

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you struggle to find the right words. Why on earth were you close to tears? Why did you feel like crying?

“I-” You start, trailing off as you stare at the floor.

Mattheo cuts through the silence, his tone still stern but laced with concern. "This isn't okay. You're smart, and you know better. You can't keep doing this to yourself. What if something happens? What if you collapse or get seriously sick? It's not worth it."

After a moment, Mattheo's expression softens, and he exhales deeply. "When was the last time you ate?" he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

Shit.

You pause, hesitating before admitting quietly, "Breakfast...yesterday."

Mattheo's features tighten at your admission, his eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration, anger, and genuine worry. He rises from his seat and strides towards you, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"Yesterday? Are you serious?" he says sharply, his voice carrying a weight of both concern and disbelief.

You remain silent, unable to meet his eyes, feeling the shame and vulnerability washing over you.

“Seriously? Fuck, what’s wrong with you? Why would you do that to yourself?” He chastises you, and you snap.

“I have to! You don't fucking get it, do you? I don't have anything else to fall back on.” You start, dropping the parchment onto the table in front of you.

Mattheo's expression shifts from concern to confusion as you lash out. "What are you talking about? You have plenty more than just academics. You're talented, you're smart, and people care about you. Why are you reducing yourself to just grades?"

You scoff, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Talented? Smart? What does that even mean? It's just a facade, a cover-up for the fact that without these achievements, I'm nothing. I don't have friends; I don't have hobbies or interests. What am I without my grades?"

Mattheo tries to interject, "You're a person with-"

But you cut him off, "No, you don't get it! I'm just a number, a ranking, a test score. Everything I am is tied to how well I perform academically. Do you know what it's like to feel like the only thing you're good at is studying, and even that's slipping away?" You snap anger evident in your tone as you spin around to face him, your weary eyes meeting his.

“It’s the same thing every single day. I wake up, bury myself in books, and push myself to the brink just to feel like I matter. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I don't talk to anyone. I’ve spent my whole life isolating myself and neglecting my most basic needs for this! If I stop now, then what's left of me?”

Tears start to well up in your eyes, and you hate yourself for showing such vulnerability. Mattheo's stern demeanour softens as he watches you unravel.

"I can't stop, Mattheo. I can't afford to. Because if I do, what's left of me?" Your voice trembles.

Mattheo's heart drops at your words, guilt and hurt clawing at his insides. He can’t fathom the idea of you suffering so much, and him being blind to it. How could you not notice how incredible of a person you are beyond all of this? He’d give anything in the world for you to see yourself through his eyes. For you to feel the way he feels when he's with you, even for a second. To know that he’d do anything you asked him to because he cared for you. Not the one who gets outstanding on all their tests.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mattheo finally speaks, his voice softer, genuine concern written across his face.

You shake your head, a mix of frustration and desperation in your eyes. “Because you wouldn’t understand. No one does. They just see the grades, the perfect student. They don’t see the mess behind it all. And I can’t let them. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

Mattheo moves closer, his expression shifting. “You’re wrong. I do understand. Maybe not completely, but I want to. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You scoff, wiping away a tear. “Why? What do you care? You have everything, popularity, friends, a life. I’m just the study partner, the smart one. I can’t burden you with this.”

Mattheo remains silent for a second, before he speaks.

“Every other Sunday, you go down to Hogsmesde and buy a hamper of sweets form Honeydukes. You take it to the children’s school and volunteer there for an hour. Everytime you visit, you make their day.” He starts.

"You're not just grades," he says, his voice gentle. "You have quirks that make you who you are. Like the way you absentmindedly tap your foot when you're deep in thought. Or how you always carry a small notebook, and I bet it's filled with more than just class notes. I've seen you doodle in the margins."

He continues, "You have a wicked sense of humor, even if you don't show it to everyone. I've heard you snort-laugh during our study sessions. And don't even get me started on your taste in music.How you call that dastardly jazz music, i’ll never understand, but you can’t resist humming along to the tunes of the Wizarding Wireless Network when you're studying. Your fondness for Chocolate Frogs and your inexplicable aversion to pumpkin juice.”

Mattheo's eyes light up, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalls more details. "Remember that time in Charms class when you made your quill dance across the room just to see if you could do it? Or when you brewed a prank potion that turned the water in the Prefects' bathroom blue for a week? You have a mischievous side that not many people get to see." He continues, looking down at you sincerely. He remains silent for a second, eyes scanning over your face before he steps back, sighing.

“I don’t know how to do this emotional, sappy bullshit. I don’t do it. But with you, I do. I want to. Other people want to. That’s what you do.” He says, voice quiet.

You remain rooted to your spot, somewhere between disbelief and gratitude as you stare up at Mattheo. How did he know all that? Why did he know all that?

“You noticed?” You speak up, voice alarmingly quiet.

He looks at you as though you’ve just asked him whether the sky is blue.

“Of course i’ve noticed. It’s impossible not to.” He murmurs, and you know he’s being honest.

Tears prick in your eyes again, and it’s as though all that exhaustion and neglect has come crashing back down on you tenfold after Mattheo had called you out. You try blink them away but alas, you simply couldn’t. Before you can even say anything, Mattheo steps forward, pulling you into his chest as he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. He holds you tightly, not even entertaining the thought of letting go as your tears soak his sweatshirt, tentatively accepting his embrace. His heart clenches at every tear that falls from your eyes, and he can’t tell if he’s horrified or accepting of the fact that he’d give up everything to relieve you of your burdens, even if only for a day.

He rubs your back soothingly, and you can’t help but let it all out.

It’s rather cathartic, really, because you've held onto this weight for so long, and now, in Mattheo's arms, it feels like a moment of release.

As your tears eventually subside, you pull back, both embarrassed and utterly shattered. You look down, sniffling as you wipe away your tear stained eyes when Mattheo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

People often said that the eyes were a window to the soul. You never really understood that, but in this moment, you felt as though you were gazing into the very depths of Mattheos being.

With a tenderness that betrays the boundaries of ‘just friends’ , he wipes away your tears with his thumb, looking down at you.

“Come on. Let’s get you up to rest, yeah?” He hums, quietly. You nod, having to tear yourself away from his touch.

He leans down to pack away your stuff, not letting you handle a thing as he throws your stuff over his shoulder.

“You can stay in my room, if you’d like. Theodore’s out for the night so I can take his bed.” Mattheo says.

You consider it for a second. You didn’t particularly fancy heading up to your room with Mattheo, for fear of your roommate awakening to see you in such a state. You nod, speaking.

“Yes please.” You say, voice embarrassingly hoarse from having cried so much. You pray Mattheo didn’t notice.

Of course he did. But, he chose not to draw attention to it, instead resolving to run down to the kitchen to get you a cup of tea.

You follow Mattheo into his room, which you were no stranger to. Having projects together meant endless hours of collaborating, and opting to avoid being pestered by your roommate and her friends (who had a rather amusing infatuation with Mattheo), you worked in his room instead.

“Help yourself to some clothes if you’d like. They’re on the right.” He says, carefully draping your school bag and robe onto one of the desks. You thank him, smiling softly as he cleans the mess he had left.

“Go lie down. I’ll be back in a second” He says, turning away as he exits his room. Swiftly walking down to the kitchen, his head is reeling with thoughts of you.

He chose not to confront the feeling gnawing at him in light of your breakdown. He didn’t want to deal with that just yet. In no less than 10 minutes he’s carefully treading up the stairs to the dorms once more, a cup of chamomile tea in one hand and some small crackers in the other.

You hadn’t been eating, nor drinking, and the idea of you neglecting yourself so much sent Mattheo into an uncomfortable state where he found himself riddled with anxiety.

Just friends, right?

He clicks open the door to his room with his elbow, precariously walking over with the tea and crackers in hand as he goes to set them down on his bedside table. His eyes flicker over to you, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he sees you already fast asleep, curled up under the covers. The sight of your slumber brings a warmth to Mattheo's heart. He watches you for a moment, taking in the soft rise and fall of your breath, the delicate features that are usually tense with stress now softened in sleep.

The sight brings him more peace than he wishes to admit, and the looming reality that he had to eventually confront only pressed down on him further.

But for now, he didn’t care.

Because in your peace, he found happiness. And he’s sure he’d never find anything else more beautiful.

Possessed by a wave of sentiment that betrays his usual self, he can’t resist reaching out to tuck a stand of misplaced hair behind your ear. Before he can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans down and presses a soft , brief kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and finds himself slightly taken aback by his own actions. The quiet room, filled only with the soft sounds of your sleep, almost seems to amplify the beating of his heart.

Mattheo stands there for a moment, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and confusion. Then, shaking off the unexpected surge of emotions, he retreats to Theodores bed , slipping out of his clothes as he goes to lay down. He had to resist the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of you once again, and lets out a small sigh as he shuts his eyes.

Mattheo Riddle was not a man of sentiment. He was not soft, and he most certainly did not go out of his way for others.

You had changed that. And he couldn’t figure out whether the prospect was one he was ready to welcome.

[nottinmyheart]

"She just fell"

Theo Nott/Brothers bsf x Reader/Malfoy

Part Two-

Quite angsty ig but not from Theo!

Writers note: This is my first fic EVER, so please don't judge too harshly, but I'm also welcome to constructive criticism! I was thinking of making this a series, but I guess it depends if people like it or not. Tbh this was all really just for fun and my personal enjoyment!

Summary: You and Theo have been in love for years, but nothing has ever happened. After an incident where your twin brother (Draco) leaves you in tears, you are confused as to Theodores' feelings towards you.

As you stumbled over your own feet and felt yourself begin to collapse, a sudden pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist preventing you from falling. Looking up, your whole body froze as you got lost in his mesmerising mixture of blues and greens for eyes. Breaking you from your trance was his deep, luscious voice which you so badly wished you could listen to on repeat for the rest of your days, "Well this seems familiar." He chuckled. And yes, it did.

Back in 1st year, you had been put in the exact same situation where you were running through the halls, dreading being late to snapes lesson, when you suddenly, abruptly tripped over your own feet. Just to your luck, Theodore Nott had been standing there and observing when he noticed the inevitable before it had even sprung into action. He immediately caught you with ease and couldn't stop himself from admiring every feature on your stunned, gorgeous face. He was consumed by your beauty while you were in the same boat as you stared back at your saviour. You swore it was love at first sight, and little did you know he felt the exact same way. Before either of you could speak, you were interrupted by that bellow of an annoying voice, your older brother (by 10 minutes). "Oi, get your hands off her Nott!" "Huh?" He spun around in confusion and was met with a fairly irritated Draco. "Don't hold her like that." He froze for a second, but after registering his friends words let go of you. "Ugh, Draco, what do you want!" You voiced back clearly unimpressed by his antics. "Draco, is this your girlfriend or something, mate?" Theodore questioned, clearly confused by his demand. "EW!" Both you and draco screeched in unison, quite childish. "NO! She's my annoying baby sister, " he explained, clearly offended by Theodores' outrageous comment. "BABY?!? You are older than me by 10 MINUTES. Don't act like you are any wiser than me!" You retaliated upset by the fact you were referred to as 'baby sister'. "So you are twins?" Theodore stated as he grasped the concept of how he had just fallen head over heels for his best mates twin sister.

"Oi! Get your hands off her, Nott!" There it was, just like last time, of course your brother had to interfere. Theo stiffened slightly at the sound of dracos voice, knowing he had just lost the chance to talk to you. Again. But he didn't let go straight away, and neither did you. Draco was now right next to the two of you and practically ripped you away from Theos hold. "What are you fucking doing Y/N, don't act like a helpless slut in front of my friends!" His voice was filled with malice and the weight of his horrible words poured over you. The hurt that his statement had on you was clear as your eyes began to fill with tears. Theo didn't know if he should defend you or not but seeing how hurt you looked he couldn't just allow you to stand there alone. Not wanting to completely ruin his relationship with draco, he barely held himself back from lashing out on him right then and there. "Dude she just fell! There's no need to start calling her names." Theo clenched his teeth at his friends quick response "She didn't "just fall" Y/N is clearly seeking attention and she doesn't have to seek it from my mates!" You stood there completely shocked from the words coming out of your own brothers, your own twins, mouth. "I- I honestly didn't mean to!" Was all you could splutter out but Draco just looked at you unconvinced. "Yeah whatever, stop acting so pathetic and just fuck off." So you did. As quickly as you could, you ran away from that situation and straight to your safe place.

In the astronomy tower, you were fortunate that no lessons were currently going on as the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, in pieces, made you sick to your stomach. You knew Draco and you were recently growing apart. And he was occupied by girls and rarely talked to you, but you couldn't believe how he had just treated you, his own flesh and blood. He treated you as if you were some trashy pick me girl just trying to find someone to fuck. You weren't that, why did he treat you like that? More tears began to flow down your face in an ugly sob and you couldn't stop.

Your best friends (Pansy and Luna) soon realised you weren't in lesson and questioned Draco as to if you were okay. Seeing the guilty expression on Dracos' face, they both knew he had said something. Although you and Pansy were both in Slytherin, in second year you ran into Luna Lovegood who as peculiar as she was, soon became great friends with the two of you and ever since then, the three of you had been like sisters. Knowing where you were, they both excused themselves and were let go since they used the 'period excuse'.

You were sat on top of the astronomy tower, questioning yourself as to why he would talk to you like that. Maybe you were just attention seeking, I mean, you were deeply in love with his best friend, so you couldn't deny you did want Theodores' attention. But you didn't deliberately fall into Theodores' arms, I mean, you didn't even notice he was there! You were just trying to catch up to your friends after you told them to walk ahead while you spoke to the teacher. And why did Theodore not let go of you? And now that you thought back to it, he did kind of defend you, right? Okay, now you were sure you were delusional, and your confused thoughts only fueled the fountain falling down your face.

Theodore was worried sick about you as he noticed you didn't show up to the next class and he soon saw Pansy and Luna leave the class looking extremely stressed, most likely in search of their lost friend. He felt horrible for just letting you run off and not defending you, and the guilt was eating him alive. But he was also pissed. Pissed at Draco for saying such foul words to you. So when he got the opportunity in class to have a conversation with him, he did. "Dude why the fuck were you so horrible to Y/N. She just fell and I caught her." He whispered in a hushed, stern tone, Draco responded in the exact same way. "She needs to understand that she can't just act like that around my mates. I mean God forbid she actually trys to hook up with one of you." Theodore was beginning to get annoyed at Dracos absurdity again. "But you were fucking horrible. I mean did you see the way you left her!? Plus why is it so bad if she does get with any of your friends? It's not like it would affect you in anyway?" Draco was baffled at this point "You can't be serious? It would affect me in every way and I would never get away from her. She's so annoying and never shuts up, it's not like any of you lot would fancy her anyway." He dismissed the thought, "She's just being dramatic, I'm sure she's fine". Although rage was bubbling over in Theo's head, he left it at that reflecting on how Draco viewed him having a relationship with you would be like.

"I'm sure she's fine." No, you definitely weren't fine, not even in the slightest. As Pansy and Luna made their way up the steps to the astronomy tower, they could hear your desperate sobs and locked eyes with eachother before covering the last few steps, empathy filled each of their eyes and they knew something really bad must have been said as you rarely cry, let alone have a full on breakdown. As you heard steps coming towards you, you frantically spun your whole body around, filled with fear, but relief washed over you as you realised it was only your friends. They comforted you for a good long while, listening to you rant and question yourself. They reassured you and promised it wasn't your fault, which made you feel slightly better, but the question still stood, "Why did Theodore not let go?" Sure, it could easily have been shock, but the way he looked at you, almost as if he never wanted to let you go, made you highly doubt that theory. Before you could dwell on the situation any longer, dinner rolled around, and you had promised your friends that you would go with them (not before you cleaned up and made yourself look presentable first). You couldn't let Draco know how much he had gotten to you. And you couldn't let Theodore see you in this state, even if you didn't yet know how he felt towards you.

[lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife]

Until fate do us together pt.2 -Theo Nott x f.reader

t.w. Alcohol, vomit, light drugs

this is a bit more angsty hope you like it:)

Not a single word. That’s how much you got from all the consecutive lessons, you had been in a constant state of panic and you just blacked out during the rest of the day. You just felt so stupid.

You had spent the last five years in the shadow of your own imagination just so that for an act of pity you could be trapped in your personal nightmare.

Pansy told you that she’d pick you up at your dorm so that she could introduce you to all her friends in their common room.

You not only were jumping in the snake’s den, but you were agreeing to do it with a smile on your face. You were too apprehensive for you own sake, stupid hufflepuff behavior, stupid caring about others, stupid stupid stupid you.

You were now in your room with your head in your hands trying to go back to your safe place, but all you could see was Theo staring you down with an annoyed look on his face nearly disgusted. It looked like a prediction of what was bound to happen that night.

Was it too late to fake a stomach ache? Would Pansy come kill you if you did that? Probably. 

Your only way to calm down was now destroyed by your own actions, just great.

After 2 hours of pure hatred towards yourself you came to accept that you had to go to this fucking party. You stared at your wardrobe as if some magical dress could appear in a moment or the other, but even as a witch you lacked of this power, disappointing really. You picked out a black jean’s skirt and a white high neck top paired with some high heeled boots. It wasn’t much but it was the best you could come up with in such short notice. You made your roommates do the rest since they were good with hair and makeup, and also because you were completely paralyzed by fear. You never told them either of your infatuation, so you couldn’t even explain where it was coming from, you had completely cornered yourself in the worst possible situation your mind ever could have imagined. Round of applause please!

Precisely at midnight Pansy knocked on your door, and you wanted to cry, pull all of your hair out of your head and throw yourself out of the window along with all your hopes and dreams. You managed to open the door with a smile on your lips, one that didn’t reach your eyes whatsoever. “You look so pretty I may have just developed a new crush!” Pansy squealed while hugging you, making you blush and slightly boosting your self confidence that was by now 6 feet under. “You look beautiful too, not just that but you look like if ‘fumbled the bag’ was a person that would be you” she blowed you a kiss and winked, right after she took your hand dragging you along until the doors of hell: the dungeons, more precisely, the entrance of the slytherin common room.

Since you’ve had always tried to stay as far away as possible from Theo and any chance of meeting him, this was the very first time you’ve ever gotten this close to this infamous place, where everybody narrates of wild parties and even wilder people. You gulped. Turning to Pansy with your hand shaking and sweating into hers you let out a breathy and low “Can we have a drink first?” “I see you! You’re absolutely right, never go to a party without somewhat of a pregame” and just like that she pulled out of her tiny purse a big bottle of liquor, a green one. She took a swig and passed it to you after scrunching her face, that should have been a warning but you took it as a good sign so you started chugging the bottle until Pansy started laughing. “Someone’s thirsty huh?” “You can’t even begin to imagine”, and you had to admit that it did solve your nerves just a bit.

She opened the doors with the passcode and what unfolded behind your very eyes left you speechless. Hundreds of students dancing under this green light that was shining on them making them look as if the drops of sweat were sparkles on their skin. Everyone seemed to be having the time of their life, exactly in the place where they belonged. It was so chaotic but it all coexisted perfectly together…or you were just already drunk. “What do you think newbie?” “Shit” “You bet” she smiled taking back your hand and guiding you through the crowd, you were shamelessly looking at your surroundings until you returned to reality. She was bringing you towards your end, you had to stop this, you had to do something, anything! “Wait!” Pansy turned around looking at you confused and awaiting “Don’t you wanna go get some drinks first?” “Oh yeah let’s just get to the guys, say hi and we’ll go right after” you wanted to escape with all your heart but instead you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. 

“By the way in all this time I didn’t really get your name” she turned back again when you had arrived in front of the group, you opened back your eyes “I’m-“ “Y/N you made it!!!” “We thought you weren’t gonna come anymore, and you’re here with Pansy?! You guys know each other?” Mattheo and Enzo jumped up to greet you with two big smiles. “Actually I just met her today, she was so nice to me after that bitch humiliated me in front of the whole school, that I couldn’t lose this keeper!” Pansy nudged you, while you were extremely embarrassed and trying to alienate yourself from the whole encounter until “Where are the others?” Pansy asked by looking around, “Oh Blaise and Draco are getting drinks and Theo is out smoking”. Hearing that made you lose up and start to speak with the three of them, you figured that at this point you were there and you could make the best out of it. Draco and Blaise came soon after and Mattheo introduced you as “the special guest”, you were finally feeling quite at ease when Theo came out of nowhere behind Blaise “look who decided to join us” “Sorry, I know you guys get bored without me, how could I ever leave you even for 5 minutes”. That voice, that sarcastic tone, that vibrating low hot sound, took you out. You went blank and his eyes found you, right between Mattheo and Pansy, right between your speechlessness and your blinding need to runaway, there you were with what seemed to be the heaviest secret in the world that you were so hardly trying to not let unfold. You didn’t even dare to look at him, you instantly took Pansy’s hand “let’s go get those drinks” and in a beat you were in the crowd running for your life, “and here I thought you were joking when you said you were thirsty” she laughed.

As soon as you reached the drinks’ table you poured yourself an entire cup of another liquor, this time it was purple. You drank that entire thing in one sip under the eyes of a very surprised Pansy, who also seemed to show a mix of pride and respect. “You definitely weren’t joking, here’s to a hufflepuff who very much understands how things go down in here” she raised her cup and chugged it just like you did. “Let’s get another one” “you know it”.

After several drinks you were all fun and games, you were having the time of your life, just like you everyone you saw as you entered. You and Pansy were dancing like it was your last day on earth, and for a brief moment Theo didn’t matter just like every other thing. 

Enzo approached you from behind making you twirl around “look at you so immersed in the atmosphere” “I feel A L I V E, like I’ve never ever ever ever been before, I’m so lucky that you walked in on me in the greenhouse” you smiled very drunkenly at him pulling both Pansy and Enzo into a hug. “Someone’s a sentimental drunk” “you just had to ruin this moment, didn’t you” you jokingly glared at him. You decided that alcohol wasn’t enough, so you pulled out your secret party ingredient, as you sat down -more like fell- on one of the sofas, next to Mattheo -more like half way on top of him- but you were just drunk enough to laugh about it with him and not overthink the embarrassing thing that just happened.

You shared it with him for a while until he got up to go to the bathroom or something like that, that you didn’t quite get. 

“Is this seat taken?” You looked up and you saw him, with his shirt a little unbuttoned and his hair perfectly messy, looking so effortlessly beautiful. 

You shook your head and he took place beside you, and you didn’t dare to look at him, but you just searched for the others, or just anyone else in the crowd, praying that someone would sweep you off of this couch before you could embarrass yourself. You smoked in silence, sure you were blushing and flustered, and you started to imagine how messy and sloppy you must have looked in that moment, fully indulging in your paranoia. You held the blunt between your pointer and middle finger slowly bringing it to your lips, Theo took it from there, and you felt yourself exploding.  In your head you were nothing but pieces of flesh and blood scattered everywhere. “You don’t mind, do you?” you had only one mantra repeating in your mind-BREATHE, BREATHE, BREATHE- you just shrugged, incapable of saying anything. “I saw you dancing and chatting all around tonight, have all your words expired?”, you had never felt this ashamed before, you wanted to tell him that if you just as opened your mouth right now you would say things you would regret and he’d regret asking for it. You could still feel his lingering gaze on you, daring you to react to his words. He probably thought this was some sort of game when really it was just your moral compass, your dignity and your rational side (at least what was left of it) begging you to not go full on insane. 

He scooted a little bit nearer to you “you like all my friends but you don’t seem to like me at all” if only he knew “did I do something?” with this intoxicating proximity you couldn’t resist and you looked at him, right in his alluring orbs. He looked exactly like he did in your head, his intensity and this pull that he had on you were unmistakably real though, that was the problem. He was literally your dream come true, and nothing had ever scared you this much, but just like every other scary thing no matter how frightening it is you cannot pull your gaze away from it. 

You two stared at each other silently, as if there couldn’t possibly exist a word that could hold the importance of what you were expressing with your eyes. 

Mattheo coughed from behind the couch, and you immediately looked at him, who was standing there seeming half awkwardly half playfully intrigued, Theo was still staring, you could feel it. “Did I interrupt something per chance?” “How could you tell?” Theo answered quite bothered and not afraid to show it. “I’m gonna go look for Pans” you said standing up and leaving hoping not to have given the impression of wanting to escape from the heat of the moment too fast, as if it wasn’t exactly what you were doing.

“What the hell dude?” “No I should say what the hell? What the hell was that? Were you having a staring contest?” Mattheo laughed while slouching on the spot you had occupied until few seconds before. “I don’t know, I don’t get her, she talks with everybody except me, each time I’ve seen her she was running away” “What possibly can you not get? She likes you, she’s probably just shy” Theo scoffed “no, I’ve seen shy and I’ve seen like, that was something else, she looked…scared” Mattheo laughed even harder than before “my brother in Christ you’re literally scaring the hoes”, he was hunched over holding his stomach with his hand “Whatever shithead, I’m gonna go look for her, this isn’t over, not yet”.

You were running around looking for Pansy, trying to make sense of whatever happened on that couch. It was a minute matter’s worth, but to you that might had been an eternity, or at least 5 years. 

5 years of yearning and hiding, all gone. You were bare in front of him, you told him everything. And you had to admit that just one real look that lasted 1 minute was worthier than 5 years of pure fantasy.

You felt like you just tasted the most powerful drug in the world, and you couldn’t get enough, but you were so scared that you had to get away before you couldn’t see the light anymore. You felt like the most pathetic and coward being that ever walked this earth. You stumbled on Pansy finally, she was drunker than before and she was crying, so you brought her to the bathroom, in a stall on the floor, just like few hours before.

“Talk to me” “I- I really liked her! And I didn’t even think about telling her, I was so scared that she would react like this. A-and everyone thinks I’m some tough bitch t-that can handle everything, but I can’t, I can’t” you hugged her and let her cry on your shoulder “I completely understand how you feel, and I want you to know that nobody expects anything from you, and even if they did, you just gotta do you. And you’re so strong for admitting this, she really doesn’t deserve you, nobody who makes you cry deserves you”. She just cried for some time, until she had enough, partly because she also kind of sobered up a bit and she said she was looking too ridiculous and weak, specially at a party.

So once again you immersed in the crowd, where you found Draco and Enzo emptying a bottle “You guys wanna play spin the bottle with us?” Pansy answered positively for both of you before you could even consider doing it, “just what I need right now” she added with a smirk, seems like she didn’t need a lot of time to move on, you envied her for that. You were going to sit down in a circle that was forming around the bottle, when someone grabbed your arm and pulled you back, “You sure like to disappear” and just like before you were set on mute once again. “We need to talk” he said “actually you need to talk to me, I’m going mad with this silence act that you’re playing” you just stared at him, not functioning “say anything, say what you’re dying to tell me, I can feel there’s something” he nearly sounded desperate. “Guys sit down we’re starting to play” and you sat down, because you were nothing but a coward, he sat down too because he was nothing but a player. 

He was literally in front of you, staring, he didn’t even know you and you were stressing him like no one had ever before. With your silence around him and nobody else, with those eyes like the ones of a deer caught in headlights, like you were holding back, but just with him. 

You on the other hand were processing just how fast things had escalated, this…and you were really drunk, and high, and you couldn’t really recognize the confine between reality and dreams.

The game started and the first couple to kiss was Blaise and a ravenclaw that shared transfiguration class with you, then Enzo and some other girl, then Pansy and Luna Lovegood…and the scene was pretty hot truth be told. Finally the bottle spun and landed on Theo, and you chocked on air, he kept looking at you, and for a second you let yourself believe that all your dreams would have come true in that perfect moment. You professing your love and him too after an epiphany produced by that sealing kiss.

You could already feel his lips on yours, his arms around your waist in bed the morning after, you walking around hand in hand just like in your dreams, so for the first time that night you looked at him and smiled. The bottle started to slow down, feeling ready, actually you had never felt so ready before, ready to embrace your future just the way you always wanted it to be. Some blonde girl from slytherin started giggling and winked at him…you felt sick…actually sick to your stomach, you needed to leave. She got up walked to him sat on his lap, you felt absolutely ill, someone could have casted a crucio on you and it would have hurt less than this, she grabbed him. Kissed him. He grabbed her, tightly. They started to make out. You left.

This was the most unsubtle action you could end up doing but you had seen enough, actually way too much.

You went to the bathroom and you threw up everything you drank, it all came back to you. Before you couldn’t make out the limit that divided fantasy and reality, but here was your goddamn reality check.

When you were done you just stayed laid back on the ground, crying, and this is why dreams are way more comfortable than real life. You dream in your bed, under your covers and you end up falling asleep with a nice warm feeling of hope.

Real life had you face itself on the cold floor of the bathroom at a party, that you didn’t want to attend. Real life leaves you sick to your stomach, alone, with an awful feeling all over you and with no hope but the one to die.

How stupid had you been to think that he had fallen for you just for literally one second of eye contact. You were literally the definition of delusional, because if you spend your life living in a dream, you’ll probably end up thinking that life is one too. 

(I’m probably gonna write a third part, let me know if you liked it and maybe repost it thanks🤠)

[suugarbabe]

Protego Series Masterlist

This is an ongoing series, I am doing updates frequently

Chapters marked with a (*) are smut or smut adjacent/violence/etc. 18+ MDNI with mature content

summary: mafia!au; Mattheo is the leader of a feared and dangerous mafia family. You enter his club looking for an escape as well as protection, but what you get may be more than what you bargained for.

[Chapter 1]

[Chapter 2]

[Chapter 3]

[Chapter 4]

[Chapter 5]*

[Chapter 6]**

[Chapter 7]**

[Chapter 8]**

[Chapter 9]**

[Chapter 10]**

[Chapter 11]**

[siriusly-parker]

—ily, bye. [draco m.]

tags. [angsty fluff?, confession, basically just draco getting crazy whenever the reader says ily, lowkey horny for it???]

author’s note. [very short! hope you like it!!]

wc. [0.88k]

She rushed to get her things into her bag. Study session was over and Pansy was waiting for her. So with her back to him, already leaving, she called out, “Love you, bye!” She didn’t think anything of it. They were friends. She said it to all her friends. It was true anyway. She did love him. More than she cared to admit, though she wasn’t even saying it in the way she wished she could. She was also in fact leaving. A farewell such as her simple “bye” was solely the product of her being well mannered. So, “Love you, bye!” was not a big deal. She said it all the time. Not to him, but she was hoping she could start.

“Say it again.” She stopped in her tracks but didn’t turn to face him. “Bye?” Did he not hear it the first time? “No.” Confused, she turned on her heel and faced her potions partner with a questioning raised eyebrow. They didn’t often need words to communicate, she wondered why hers mattered now. “The other part.” Draco wasn’t rolling his eyes, he wasn’t teasing or honestly confused. He had an expression on his face she couldn’t quite figure out. A slight frown caused subtle wrinkles in between his eyebrows. She wished she could kiss it all away. She smiled at the thought before remembering what was actually the “other part” of her send-off. “I love you?” Now her own eyebrows were creased, she didn’t quite understand what he wanted, but still, she just couldn’t shake the smile off her face. Maybe she just liked how these three little words rolled so easily off her tongue. They felt so loud against the otherwise silent library. She could only hope he liked hearing it as much as she loved saying it.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely caught how he let his head fall back and sighed. It wasn't really from relief. It felt more like contentment, satisfaction… pleasure. She just watched, Pansy long forgotten, as he ran his hand down his face and said, “C’mere.” And she did. As she came closer to his seat she looked around. Empty. They were completely alone in the library and her heart started to beat just a tad faster. “Draco…” He closed his eyes again. Savouring the sound. “Fuck… I never knew I’d love hearing my own name so bad.” She took another step. “Draco…” It was barely a whisper, a question, though she did not know which one exactly she was asking. He kept his eyes closed, even as he felt her knees hit his. “Dra-” “Say it again.” A smile couldn’t help but creep up her face. “Which part?” Opening his eyes, he rested his hands on the back of her thighs. “All of it.” He looked up at her, not used to such a vulnerable position. Yet, here he was, putty in her hands, begging to hear simple words, without even caring if they were true. She smiled and put her hands through his hair. Maybe it was the fact that they were already in such a compromising position or maybe it was just the opportunity that shutting his eyes again gave her. She wouldn’t have to hide the smile, or the blush, or the overall expression on her face that gave away how much she was truly enjoying it all. “I love you, Draco.” He didn’t open his eyes. He truly believed he would never again be able to. Not after hearing an angel speak of love and uttering the name of constellations without ever mentioning the night sky. He experienced the divine and couldn’t simply go back to a hardly enjoyable existence, where her hands weren’t in his hair and his own name wasn’t such ear-candy. He rested his forehead on her torso, just in front of him. It felt so easy, they were just so close, in every sense of the word. Barely lowering her head, she whispered in his ear, “I love you. I love you, Draco.”

How did they get there? Where along the way did longing stares and brush of hands become holding of thighs, caressing of hair, and deeply sincere “I love yous”? It didn’t really matter, all these questions about how and why and where and when. It was already happening and it felt so much better than any stolen glances and sleepless nights.

So, she said it again. “Draco, I love you.” “Yeah…” “I love you, Draco.” “Again…” “I love you.” “Mmm hmm…” That was all he could manage. He was basking in the affection he’d always dreamed of. He was high on it. Hooked on it. It consumed his very being. “I love you.” She’d say, kissing the top of his platinum hair. “I’ll tell you a thousand times a day if that’s what you want to hear. I’ll tell you even when you don’t ask me to.” She takes his face, guiding his gaze back to her. When he finally opens his eyes back up, he speaks before she ever gets a chance to. “I love you, Y/n.” She closes her eyes, relishing the words he had just said. “Fuck… it does sound quite good when it’s the right person saying it…”

‎𐦂 hope you enjoyed it!! comment what you think! ◡̈

‧˚ʚ masterlist + requests

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