Trying to balance Lorenzo's writing between the 'he's a wanker and the worst person ever' characterization and the 'he's the nicest person to ever exist' characterization
(Part Three) Synopsis- the green eyed monster that is jealousy is practically glaring at you, its good thing that Daphne might know a thing or two.
Warnings: Cussing, Cormac mention but no Cormac (still needs a warning though), Mattheo being a dick pt. 3, blood mention, Snape mention, Enzo self pity.
Dynamics: Matttheo shit stirring obviously, eventual Lorenzo x reader
Bustling yells and competitive cheering surrounds you as you're dragged past blurring rows of people and down winding, wooden stairs by Pansy’s tight grip of your wrist. The cold chill caused by the wind feels biting due to your running, and you can't help but grip your scarf harder to stop it from whipping around. You can barely compute the rushed, panicked words shared between the girl behind you and the girl in front of you while your own brain is trying to piece together the altercation that had unfolded during this evening's surprisingly eventful quidditch practice. Lorenzo Berkshire had broken Cormac McLaggen's nose, you were sure of it. Hell you’d seen it happen with your own eyes, even if you were a considerable distance away, the non-stop gushing of blood was enough of a giveaway. Your mind was made up, there was something seriously wrong with that lad, if his constant glares and pointed remarks towards you weren’t enough, then this was the final piece of evidence that you needed to convince yourself that Lorenzo was indeed a massive twat. Though an abrupt, unexpected halt tears you away from your final mental assessment of the boy.
Fixing your gaze on Pansy, you raise your brows questioningly as if to ask ‘what are we doing?”. She ignores you completely, focusing on Daphne but before she could speak, she doubles over, inhaling deep exaggerated breaths. After she composes herself- which takes some time- she straightens up, “Did you see that?” she all but wheezes out, still somewhat winded. You blink at her. Of course you saw it- “Lorenzo has been very short tempered lately, I wonder if something happened to set him off?” Daphne’s words interrupt your internal dialogue, bringing her pointer finger up to tap her chin thoughtfully, “Maybe he’s just a pratt?” You comment, clearly not the right thing to say considering the circumstances, but you were quite tired of him and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude pointed at you specifically. Daphne stares at you with that confused tilt of her head again, mirroring the glance she gave you before the whole incident occurred, “Pratt? What makes you say that?” She knew he could be a bit…sulky at times and a borderline asshole at others, but she had never really expected you of all people to reduce him to such a title, all things considered. “I don't know, he’s just very…” You make a face, not really knowing how to describe the anomaly that is Lorenzo Berkshire, especially to his friends, “...confusing?”
Everyone that you had confided in had looked at you like you were crazy when you had mentioned Lorenzo’s clear disdain for you, most of them not even recalling the tragically humorous third year incident between you and him. More reasons for why his hatred was clearly misplaced, though it didn’t really matter, especially when people brushed off the concept of Lorenzo being anything but saint adjacent. Maybe you should have tried harder to make amends, or maybe he’s just really determined to hold grudges, but it was incredibly jarring whenever you heard that people considered him the most approachable of the group. Which he was certainly not, in your humble opinion. Either way, it was really none of your concern, to you, it was purely one sided. Even if he was completely entitled. “Yeah well, I think him bludgeoning McLaggen is a more important topic at the moment.” Pansy shakes her head, off again to wherever she was going, with both you and Daphne in tow “Honestly, I don’t think Enzo’s ever been fouled this bad in a game.” She notes, semi- concerned yet a hint of amusement laced her tone as she looks back over her shoulder at you.
The grueling walk to the locker rooms was less than ideal, especially after rushing down the damp stairs of the quidditch stands, and by the time you actually got there you were completely spent. So much for the relaxing night off you promised yourself. Daphne takes the initiative to knock on the door as you slump dramatically on the wall next to it, wishing you had bought one of the hot drinks being hastily passed around at the game, organized by some kinda student committee you didn't typically pay any mind to. The wait only takes a few seconds before the door creaks open, Draco’s bright, blond hair peaks out before you actually see the man himself, looking over you all with a critical side eye. “This is really not a good time.” His words are clipped and irritated before he’s gracefully shoved to the side by Mattheo, whose smug smirk can only be described as boyishly proud, “This is a great time actually, come in.” You lift from the wall, which was doing a wonderful job in supporting you through this endeavor, scrunching your nose up in disgust as you cross your arms firmly. “I would rather not enter the boys locker room actually, Mattheo.” He just waves his hand at you dismissively, instead ushering Pansy and Daphne inside, like they had debriefed in there a million times before- they probably had if you were being realistic- before turning back to you, “You coming? Everybody’s completely dressed. Unless you’re worried about the smell, but we can't do anything about that so-” You grumble, pushing past him before he can finish his sentence, taking in the sight of everyone except Lorenzo crowding around the large room in a wonky circle formation, all of them displaying a varying range of emotions on their faces. From Blaise’s furrowed brows and grimace- assumed to be cringing due to the sheer amount of blood spilled- to Theo’s awkward wince as he runs his hands through his hair in distress.
Tense silence is cut short when Daphne clears her throat, clearly wishing for someone to explain something, which causes Theo to finally lean forward with his elbows braced on his knees, “Enz is in Snape's office, if that's what you’re wondering.” It comes out as more of a sigh than he probably intended, but you could tell that wherever happened after they had left the pitch must’ve been emotionally taxing, the majority of them looking exhausted. Aside from Mattheo and Draco, obviously.
Pansy groans in irritation, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation, “Good to know, but why did that spat happen in the first place? Enzo doesn't even care enough about McLaggen to row with him.” The group descends back into silence at her words, a slightly uncomfortable tension shrouding the locker room, and a guilty looking Mattheo standing in the corner staring at the ceiling. He continues doing that for a few seconds before shifting his head back down to look at his mates, only to find their eyes already trained on him, “I didn’t do anything!” his shoulders raise as he gestures around, “....might have overestimated his self control a bit, but it’s not really my fault.” Taking a slow step forward, you draw your lips into a line, “Right, really informative Matt, what does that even mean?” The question is self explanatory. What did you do? The brunette straightens up, lazily straightening out his jumper, “Something about McLaggen's nose, it being you know- not deviated and all. A really touchy subject for Enz.” Pieces begin to connect in your mind, but you’re too tired to actually think about them for more than two seconds, instead, “Is that it?” Pansy dryly asks, totally unimpressed, “You literally dislocated his jaw at some point, sounds like you’re just jealous of him.” She snickers, unbothered by Mattheo’s displeasure. “It was broken-” He argues, before she interjects, “-dislocated, actually.” The back and forth goes on for what feels like eternity when he finally gives up, surrendering to the onslaught of disapproving points she presents. “Seem’s petty, why Cormac specifically? Is it because he’s a Gryffindor?” Words come out before you can think, but knowing them, it probably was the cause of all of this. That was your reasoning anyways. “Nah, don't think so.” Blaise chimes in, followed by Draco’s mutterings of “Dense.”
Snape’s office is cold and unwelcoming, even to a Slytherin who spends half of his livelihood in the dungeons, located in the deep pits of Hogwarts’old infrastructure. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat under the teacher's scrutinising gaze, words dying on his lips as soon as he attempts to open his mouth to explain, to excuse his anger driven actions- but he can’t.
Lorenzo had been impulsive, there was no way to sugar coat the truth. All over some stupid locker room talk about you and McLaggen, and for what? To feel good about himself and his meaningless grudges? Well, grudge wasn’t necessarily the word, but he was way too stubborn to admit that it could be anything else. That stayed between him and a select few, and whoever Mattheo opened his big mouth to, apparently. Either way, Enzo had plenty of other ways to channel his frustration, other methods to regulate himself, but no, Matt had to go piss all over his good mood right before a game. One that didn't even matter, mind you, but maybe that was better than fucking up an official match. That’s what he kept repeating to himself anyways, it was always useless to justify his actions to himself after the fact, it was easier to placate others and their emotions first before fallout then deal with the guilt or shame that came with it. The floors are polished, noted. His books are in alphabetical order, noted. Windows are all slightly ajar, noted. Snape looks more pissed than usual, noted. The boy lists off things he notices in his head to delay the inevitable, the futile attempt is not lost on the older man, who finally clears his throat and clasps his hands together. “Lorenzo Berkshire,” he states sternly, eyeing up the way in which Enzo bristles at the timber of his voice, “you know why you’re here, correct?” The question is rhetorical, of course he knows why he’s there, he’d rather be anywhere else. He nods regardless, messy strands of brown hair falling onto his face as he tries to school his reaction into calm indifference, a polar opposite of how his heartbeat is constantly reminding him that he’s anything but. Snape sneers at his lack of response, but continues regardless, “Then you know that your actions were not only careless, but also unnecessarily violent." He pauses, letting the accusation sink in for Enzo, a small tense inhale was the only tell that he was nervous. Snape didn’t need to know about his sweaty palms, or the silent tapping of his foot under the desk- but he knew, and that was punishment enough. Frown lines grew deeper on his professor's face as he begrudgingly admits, “Though, there’s no apparent evidence that you purposely injured Mr Mclaggen, and quidditch at its core is a dangerous sport.” A sigh of relief threatens to escape his lips, though he stops it before it slips out and incriminates him more.
His posture relaxes as he lazily slumps back in the cushioned chair, “So what? I’m off the hook?” He drawls, tilting his head to the side in a questioning motion, “Not quite. Deducted house points and detention, Monday- the first years are rather incompetent when it comes to cleaning equipment.” Snape lets the obvious notion of cleaning first year messes linger in the air while Lorenzo nods hesitantly, “Yeah, sure…am I dismissed?” In front of him, Snape's gaze hardens before lifts his hand to shoo him away. As he stands to his full height, he suddenly feels too childish for the predicament he’s found himself in, too immature to be graduating this year to be sent off to do whatever work his father has lined up for him after his exams at Hogwarts are completed. The irony of having to clean up after a bunch of first years the following week after this predicament isn’t lost on him, but he’d rather not acknowledge that. Accountability was never his strong suit but Merlin was it hard to kill bad habits.
Heavy steps fell onto stone floors as Lorenzo stalked out of the office, somehow the air in the castle warmed when he shut the heavy door behind him, though his moment of relief was short lived as he was greeted with seven pairs of eyes and multiple held in breaths being released simultaneously. Suddenly an onslaught of questions were hurdled his way, and just like that the smooth, sly smirk stretched back onto his face with practiced ease. Most of them were from Matt and Theo, the latter now far less tense than he had been earlier, asking about the ‘interrogation’ as he had referred to it as. They saved the questions about Cormac for later, during the hushed conversations held in the common room that took place on particularly dark nights, but for now it was just friendly pats on the back and affectionate teasing. Easy as always.
(Part Two) Synopsis- Your plans for well needed alone time are disturbed by Pansy and her- now your friends and their stupid (Quidditch) games.
Warnings: Mention of Cormac Mclaggen (I’m sorry but he’s Freddie Stroma come on), Cussing, Mattheo being a dick pt. 2, Jealous Enzo, Violence & blood, is it OOC if he's not canon?
Dynamics: New friend group, one sided hate from Lorenzo, mentions of reader finding Cormac fit, Lorenzo and Mattheo beef, Lorenzo injuring Mclaggen, eventual Lorenzo x reader
Languid footsteps and student chatter echo around the semi empty halls as you take your sweet time to walk towards your dorm room. The snowfall of yesterday had eased up significantly, and you take the time to peer out of the grand windows to appreciate the white sheet of snow blanketing the ground below. Classes today had been hectic and mind numbing, not to mention the strange confrontation from Lorenzo, so you hadn't had any time to actually stop and breathe properly. Ignorantly (and rather stupidly), believing that the rest of the evening would consist of perfect silence, candle lighting and a nice hot shower, you didn't notice Pansy Parkingson and Theodore Nott barreling down the corridor and making a straight B-line for you. You, still blissfully unaware and leaning over slightly to stare at the landscape. A full body shudder wracks your body, making an impossibly loud and inhuman yelp escape you as someone grips your shoulders from behind- whipping around with wide eyes, you watch both Pansy and Theo cover their mouths in half surprise and half amusement. Eyes darting between them both, you raise one of your brows in confusion at their sudden ambush. “What..? Oh don't look at me like that, what do you want?” You question drawing your mouth up into a rather unimpressed line. Retracting his hand from his mouth, which had been doing a horrible job of stifling his giggles by the way, Theodore straightens up, “There’s a practice match later, if you wanna come.” He drawls, like the both of them hadn't scared the soul out of you just moments before, a sigh leaves your lips when you glance at Pansy to gauge her verdict on the suggestion, “Come on, it’s Quidditch…and Quidditch players…” She wiggles her eyebrows in an unconvincing attempt to coax you into sitting outside in the damp cold to watch a bunch of fit (begrudging to admit) lads fly about all evening.
The both of you had gossiped about it hundreds of times of course, Quidditch was a renowned and respected sport with even more renowned and respected players, so it was only natural for the both of you to have enthusiastically discussed certain aspects of the game. By ‘aspects’ you mean rating all of the players one to ten, harmless fun really, mainly to cure the boredom that came from long sleepless nights in the common room or during morning breakfast in the Grand Hall when you were feeling particularly lively. Quidditch wasn't really your forte, but that didn't stop you from doing a bit of shameless checking out when you were dragged to games by your other friends. Clearing your throat you cross your arms against your chest with masked intrigue “Who’s playing?” You ask, to which Pansy lights up- a smug grin threatening to break out onto her already smug face. “Slytherin versus Gryffindor.” Her tone is conspiratory and filled with implication as if she knew that the line up would make you drop all of your previously established plans and go. To this, Theo cocks his head to the side in confusion, the clear emphasis on ‘Gryffindor’ wasn't lost on him. None of the group, you came to find out, were particularly fond of Gryffindors- common sense really. They were all pureblood Slytherins, it was no surprise that they harboured distaste for the house containing Harry ‘The Boy Who Lived’ Potter, though it made it particularly annoying when they voiced their disdain whenever you mentioned studying with Granger. Usually you’d just roll your eyes at them, after all, it’s not your fault that she’s an extremely effective tutor. The boy scoffs, gears clearly turning in his head as he speaks more gruffly this time, “You’re not rooting for the lazy lions…” the judgement in his tone is clear, though before you can deny his accusation, Pansy does it for you, “Of course she’s not, don't be absurd.” She waves her hand at him, dismissing the idea like it was incomprehensible, “Don’t think her eyes will be much on the game at all, though.” You bristle at the comment, cheeks heating in embarrassment as you scrunch your face in irritation.
You know what she’s getting at and you would much rather not have Theo, or the rest of the group for that matter, know what goes through your head while watching a game of Quidditch. Especially when most of them are on the team themselves .”Pansy-” You start, but Theo is quick to cut you off “Oh, amica mia, don’t tell me you're interested in a Gryffindor…” He trails off again, a disappointed lilt to his tone as he shakes his head, rolling your eyes, your mouth drops to a frown, “No, Theodore, I’m not interested in a Gryffindor- Pansy’s teasing.” A huff escapes your mouth, fingers drumming along your satchel nervously due to being put on the spot. Pansy’s smirk grows impossibly wide at your denial, noting the awkward movements of your hands, she adds fuel to the fire, “That’s not what you were saying the other day…what was it? Something about Mclagg-” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head at the name drop, hand snapping up to cover her mouth, though it was clearly too late. Your gaze drifts from Pansy to Theo, your horrified expression mirroring his as he stares at you as if you’d grown a second head. A beat passes as you hold eye contact, before he sputters (unusual for the usually stoic boy), “Cormac?! Cormac Mclaggen?! Oh, you cannot be serious.” Today had already been going awful, props to Lorenzo for that, and the addition of your attraction to Cormac being exposed only made it worse. How were you going to live this down? The humiliation of the situation made more blood rush to your face, and you could only open and close your mouth in response. Once you collect your bearings, you glare at Parkinson, who only shrugs in response, “Attraction and interest are two completely different things!” You practically yell, a few students eyes darting to you at your raised voice “I’ve never even talked to the guy! I know he’s a prick.” Theo pinches the bridge of his nose before sliding an arm over your shoulder, tutting, “It’s okay…we’ll find you a nice Slytherin, and you can forget all about that egotistical tosser.” Oh the irony. His voice is full of mock concern as he begins to walk you down the corridor, Pansy on the other side of you, to any passer by you probably look absolutely miserable sandwiched between them. You could feel the deep furrow of your brows, and your frown was probably enough to rival Snapes’, but neither of them take notice of it as they fuss over the prospect of you and Cormac.
Amidst their taunting, they remind you that the game is at six and that you need to be there because it's ‘oh so important’ for you to support your friends and that it builds morale and whatnot. Blocking most of it out, you agree reluctantly, not wanting to listen to them yap more about your concerningly horrific taste in men or about how you should take dating advice from Theo because he ‘knows what' s best’. You know for a fact that that's utter bullshit considering your knowledge of his dating history. They continue to leisurely walk you to your dorm, Pansy and you splitting from Theo as you near the entrance due to him needing to go prepare for practice, to which you wave him off with annoyance. His parting words being “We’ll kick Mclaggen’s ass, see how you like him then” prompting a laugh from Pans’ and a disgruntled groan from you. The game wasn't for a while, so you had some time to relax, not enough time, but some time- though that just meant that you had to spend your down time getting ready for something that you had no previous intention of going to. How nice.
Theodore straps on his shin guards, sitting on the bench against the wall in the changing room lazily, ever since your outburst earlier he’s found it to be the funniest thing in the world. Of course he’s told the others, how could he not? The whole thing was absolutely comical in his eyes and he was nothing if not a gossip. Draco shakes his head, a disbelieving sound leaves his throat as he’s rendered speechless at the appalling information, “Cormac!? Can we even associate with someone who considers that wanker fit?” He gawks, Blaise laughs while tying his Quidditch shoes, shooting the blonde an amused side eye. Mattheo leans back on the central bench, a reminiscent and almost fond look in his eye as he gazes at the ceiling, “I remember breaking his jaw last year after they lost-” sniffle “-it feels just like yesterday…” Dramatically wiping a fake tear from his eye, he abruptly stands and zeros in on Enzo, who had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time while attaching his gear.
Lorenzo Berkshire was probably the biggest gossip of them all, jumping at the chance to spread any and all information that he could get his hands on, it kept him at the top of the social hierarchy and he liked it that way, needed it that way. People liked him, his deceptively innocent smiles and carefully thought out compliments, they liked the nice, charismatic golden boy of Slytherin. Mattheos’ unexpected presence beside him snapped him out of his self regulating daze, making him jostle slightly “You’re quiet,” Matt points out the obvious, staring at Enzo with a puzzled tilt of his head “what do you think about it?” The question causes Enzo to scowl, a sharp tug of his shoulder pad causes the rest of them to notice that something was clearly up, “Why does it matter?” Theo looks up at him from where he’s sat, leaning his elbows on his knees after he’s finally fixed his shin gear into place, “Mate, she’s nice enough, why’re you so tightly strung?” He draws out, adding to Lorenzo’s already present irritation, because he was right. You were nice enough and he loathed it. It wasn't uncommon for his friends to hear his frustrated rants about people he hated, they knew what he was like, that everything else was just a front but as long as they got to see the real him when alone they didn’t really mind how he presented himself to the rest of Hogwarts. It was none of their business.
This was different though, you were Pansy’s friend, they had grown closer to you and the way he was currently acting truly stumped them despite their usual perceptiveness. Mattheo pipes up again, horrible idea really, knowing his friend was pissed already, "You’re telling me that you haven't thought about it? Maybe she just really likes the fact that Mclaggens’ nose isn't crooked.” At that a chorus of “oooohhhh’s” can be heard behind them from other players on the team, Lorenzo gives Mattheo a harsh shove, not dignifying his attempt to rile him up with a verbal response. Blaise whistles lowly as he watches the taller brunette grip his broom tighter than necessary while practically storming out of the room, “Didn’t need to come for his face mate, you know it’s a touchy subject.” Grabbing his broom too, Mattheo smirks, “He plays better when he’s mad.”
Front row seats. Pansy insisted on front row seats right at the top, you would jump off of the Quidditch tower stands if it wouldn’t cause such an inconvenience. Wrapped up warm, you bury your face in your scarf, and hug yourself tighter- the reason why they would put on a game in this kind of weather was completely lost on you, maybe it would build a tolerance to the cold? That would be stupid. Turning to Pansy and Daphne Greengrass, a girl in your year and a friend of Pansy's that she had introduced you to on the way to the game. Apparently both girls came to practice matches together often, which was unsurprising given the ‘house spirit’ rant that the black haired girl had given you earlier, Daphne was quite nice and you had found that both of you had a few things in common. Except for the money obviously- when did you become an honorary member of the bourgeois? All this waiting for the game to start had you pondering more about your social life than you needed to. Voicing your thoughts out loud, you glower into your scarf “Is it gonna start soon?” Pansy hushes you for your impatience, gesturing to the field “They’re there.” Just on que, the players fly onto the snow-caked pitch, Daphne told you earlier that they do not clean it unless there’s an actual game. It made sense, you suppose. The majority of faces you recognized now as your friends sparked an unfamiliar excitement in you.
The game starts ten minutes later, after a long drawn out reminding of rules and regulations, it helped rejog your memory on how the game played out but you still didn't really pay attention, earning you a few scoldings from Pans’ when you kept interrupting to ask nonsensical questions about rules and points. After a while you settle into a half-fledged understanding of what was going on as players zipped around the pitch avoiding bludgers, scoring points and such. You question the players positions, which Daphne gladly answers, knowing that you’re just curious about what your mates did within the game. Leaning over slightly so you can hear, she points at them in order, “Draco’s the seeker, Blaise is the keeper, Theo’s a chaser and Matt and Enzo are beaters.” The list is rapid but you nod nonetheless, understanding that the other two Slytherin players are the other chasers, “-And Cormac Mclaggen is obviously Gryffindor's keeper.” Pansy adds, nudging you with her elbow, you swat at her arm playfully. Daphne shoots you both a confused glance, “Mclaggen? I thought you were interested in-” Though she’s cut off by a non threatening warning look from Pansy, causing her to get the hint and back off. You brushed it off as a misunderstanding, but it still took purchase in the back of your mind.
The game is overall uneventful, prompting you to crouch down in your seat, digging inside your bag for some lip balm to aid the damage that the cold weather had dealt, when you hear an ensemble of cries coming from the stands around you- but not the same competitive ones that you had grown used to hearing. Snapping your head up in bewilderment, you hear the faint yell of “Holy shit!” from Mattheo as he beams wildly. Your eyes dart around the field as they land on Cormac clutching his nose, an unmistakable deep crimson trail of blood now staining his face, your gaze drifting to the other players you notice Lorenzo’s hard, brown stare is already fixed on you. It doesn’t take Daphne and Pansy’s stunned gawking to realize what had occurred. Berkshire launched a bludger straight into McLaggen's face, and now he's staring daggers into your very being. The rest is a blur of movement, the two boys yelling obscenities at each other, Enzo being escorted off of the pitch, the game is cut short and Pansy is dragging you out of your seat and down the vast expanse of stairs.
Crisp sounds of snow being crushed under boots can be heard as Draco lands from his broom first, disbelief apparent as he looks around for any indication that he wasn’t the only one who saw Lorenzo’s ‘little’ outburst. Blaise follows suit, then Theo, Mattheo and finally Lorenzo. Mattheo brushes off his uniform and leans on his broom, ever the instigator he hums in agreement with Draco, letting him know that had been one hundred percent real, “What was that about, Berkshire?” He asks with mock disturbance, giving Enzo a look over as he approaches the rest of the group.
“Guess she has to find another reason to like him.” He mutters, shoulder tense as he passes the other boys, trudging back towards the changing rooms.
“ ‘He plays better when he’s mad’ my ass.” Blaise snorts back a laugh, following Enzo.
(Part one) Synopsis- Pansy Parkinson is a great friend...her friends on the other hand? They're a different story. In which you're unfortunately roped into a brand new friend group and forced to associate with someone that you'd much rather avoid.
Warnings: None
Dynamics: New friend group, Mattheo being annoying (brief), one sided hate from Lorenzo, eventual Lorenzo x reader
The chill of the centuries old castle halls had your already white knuckles gripping your robes tighter around your frame, something you had grown used to during your time at Hogwarts, especially during the unfairly colder months of the year. No matter how many warmth spells you had cast on yourself, it seemed that they couldn’t quite keep away the bone deep shivers that you would get anytime you would leave your dorm room, which is why you typically wouldn’t. Besides class and going to Hogsmeade with friends to shop for essentials, of course. It was a comfortable life, not incredibly popular like some, but also not unpopular- which you had quite preferred, allowing you to go unnoticed by anyone that you deemed especially unsavoury. On a rare occasion, you would talk to fellow students outside of your circle if they chose to speak to you first, but besides that you usually wouldn’t bother, it wasn’t really your thing- opting to keep to yourself.
Which is why it was awfully irritating when Pansy Parkinson had invited you to mingle with her friends in the courtyard after classes were out for the day, to encourage you to ‘socialize’ as she put it. Look, you enjoyed hanging out with Pansy, she was funny and seemed to know the best places to hide out when the idea of class was less than favourable, but her friends? A whole different story. They were public menaces- prestigious, wealthy wankers who sauntered around like they were better than everybody else at practically bloody everything, and you suppose they were to some extent, but that didn’t give them any right to peacock about. The saying ‘you are who you associate with’ clearly didn’t apply to Pansy, sure she bragged occasionally and yes she was very confident, but that was nothing compared to them. At least she had humanity, which you really doubted the others shared considering some of the heinous pranks they pulled or the fights that they had caused, all of which you avoided purposely. Dreading the entire interaction already, you swallow your pride and cross into the courtyard.
The smell of damp trees wafted through the air- or that's what you’d claim if you could even feel your nose, the exposure to outside already turning it, as well as your cheeks a faint red colour. You pull your scarf up, burying the lower half of your face into it as you look around for Pansy. It wasn’t hard to find her due to the familiar loud laughter bustling from a nearby group of rowdy people. Wonderful. Already exhausted, you approach the group carefully, coming up behind Pans’ and tapping her on the shoulder lightly as you awkwardly shift from one foot to the other. She immediately whips around, grinning widely at you. “Oh my Merlin, You made it! Hey!” She greets and unfortunately for you, Parkinson smiles are contagious, causing you to shoot her an unsure one back. Your eyes flick from her face to the rest of the group, all of whom had grown eerily quiet since your arrival, prompting you to shuffle a bit more. “Hey Pans’....” You murmur, shoving your hands in your coat pockets to avoid you from fidgeting with them, “Hey…all…” internally cringing at your robotic words, your eyes snap back to Pansy, who gives you a reassuring nudge with her elbow. “This is Y/n, Y/n this is…everyone.” She slings her arm over your shoulder, gesturing to the group of boys, you shoot her an incredulous side eye to silently ask for her to elaborate. “Right, right, Draco-” She points to the infamous Malfoy, whom of which you already knew from how much he harassed Potter “Blaise-.” She pointed to another boy, tall with black hair, on the Quiddich team you think. “Theo-” Italian guy, grey eyes- you often heard girls chatting about him and- “Mattheo-” Yep, they were like a package deal or so you’ve heard. This one had curly hair, and a large plaster slapped on his cheek from what you assumed was a previous altercation with some poor, unsuspecting twat. “And lastly…Lorenzo.” She finished, sighing like the introduction had taken everything out of her system.
You stare at the brunette for a moment too long, cheeks burning a bit brighter, you bury your face into your scarf further before nodding “Good to know…” Lorenzo Berkshire. A name you knew all too well, this is what you had been dreading the most- coming even a few feet in his vicinity was something you had sworn that you would never do during the rest of your time at Hogwarts, and now Pansy had caused you to break a sacred rule. You had nothing in particular against the boy, however every time that you had to pass him in the halls, see him in the Slytherin common room, hell even in the library- your palms grow increasingly sweaty and your pulse starts hammering in your ears, which is why you miss all of the ‘Hey’s and ‘How are you’s from the people in front of you. Pansy shakes you slightly, her arm still around your shoulder “Y/nnnnn” She drawls, and you snap out of your brief trance. “Yeah?” You dazedly ask, bringing a hand out of your pocket to rub your nose slightly “Speak?” She repeats your confused tone back to you teasingly as you shoot her a playful glare. One of her friends- Mattheo?- pipes up “Yeah, I wanna hear what the lovely lady has to say.” He muses, a smirk plastered on his face, you try not to grimace “Oi, don’t scare her off you pompous prick.” Draco chimes in, swatting at him. The tension eases slightly as the still silence from earlier is replaced by chaotic conversation instead, people going around in a circle telling you insane stories about their lives to make you feel more included, some more tmi than others (mainly Mattheo, Theo and sometimes Blaise) earning them a swift smack on the back of their heads from either Pansy or Draco. Though, you felt eyes boring into you, you didn't need to look to know who it was.
A good few days pass and you integrate into their group nicely, floating between them and your own friends, occasionally sitting with them in the Great Hall when you felt like it- though you truly forgot how infamous they all were. It's like the thought completely left your mind when you spoke to them instead of listening to the echo chamber of rumours floating around like they were some sort of ancient legend instead of just a bunch of idiots. It had been refreshing to actually get to know them. Except Berkshire.
After a long, grating lesson from Snape you hurriedly pack your books and quill into your satchel, desperate to get back to your room to simply be. No homework, no responsibilities, just you, whatever articles are gracing today's pages of the ‘Daily Prophet’ and leisurely lounging on your comfortable bed. Groaning as you finally stuff the last text book into your bag, you leave the room last, cursing yourself for taking so bloody long to sort your things out- though you stop dead in your tracks as you see the boy leaning against the wall parallel to where you stood. A few seconds later he pushes himself off of it, languidly walking towards you with dark eyes. “Didn’t know that you were mates with Parkinson.” He starts, tilting his head down at you. An intimidation tactic, you’ve learned. “We’ve been friends for a while.” You mutter back, averting your gaze, the stone floor of the castle seeming way more interesting than your current situation. “Right, right…” He scoffs, seemingly irritated at your lack of direct eye contact with him. “Are you seriously still mad about…that?” You murmur question, furrowing your brows “It was a total accident.” Gaining more confidence, you look up at him again, his deep brown eyes predatory as he stares down at you. “Accident? It was a stupid attempt to get my attention.” He spat through gritted teeth, still sizing you up despite the obvious uselessness of it. You grip the strap of your bag tighter and with a deep scowl you let out a low huff of annoyance, “I was not attempting to get your attention, it was a harmless mishap in third year.” Lorenzo responds to that with a glower, clearly not believing the words that had left your mouth, “Harmless? You tripped me over in the Grand Hall, a humiliation ritual if I do say so myself!”
The vivid memory of thirteen year old Enzo scrabbling his way over to Draco, much more eager to please people back then you noted, settled in the forefront of your mind. His rushed movements were clumsy and uncoordinated (quite like a lamb you suppose), so in retrospect, it hadn't really been your fault. You put your foot out as you attempted to stand from the table and by some sort of diabolical divine intervention- collided with him causing him to trip over his robes, fall onto his face and slide approximately 3 feet from where he ungracefully fell. It was comical honestly, the way his body went limp as he just accepted his fate, he didn't even attempt to brace himself. Though the laughter that followed had to have been ego shattering, in addition to the visit to the hospital wing after it had turned out that the impact of the fall had broken his nose- in your own defence, you had apologised profusely and offered to carry his books when you saw him around school even though the injury had not affected his ability to hold his own stuff, but he always held quite the vendetta against you after that. You stifle a laugh at the memory of the event, bringing your free hand to cover your mouth when his piercing gaze hardens at your barely concealed amusement. “Glad you still find the situation humorous.” The scowl on his face deepens as his eyes narrow into slits at your pathetic attempt to seem unbothered. “I do not find it humorous, it was just….unfortunate….” You draw your lips into a line, another approach to hide the grin threatening your face while you watch as his arms drop to his side before he points at you, lowering his voice “You’re lucky that you’re buddy-buddy with Parkinson.” and like that, he spins on his heel- lazily walking away with that odd swagger-thing that the whole group seems to do.
You call out one last time, cupping your hands around your mouth so the sound projected clearly before he disappears around the corner, the sound echoing off of the now empty halls. “I said I was sorry!” A small huff leaves your lips when he doesn't acknowledge the latest apology, though you're sure you’d be trying to appease him more now that you’re ‘in’ with his friend group. Furrowing your brows with finality, you hurriedly head off towards your dorm, the once damp mood you had brightening at the prospect of doing absolutely nothing…
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