what can non-canadians do to help the people of Collins / Namaygoosisagagun? Is there a currency conversion service for donating in CAD for orgs that only accept CAD? And are there ways we can donate time/resources when we are farther away? Hope you and your loved ones are safe and well ♡
currency is converted internally by the system so the amount you donate in USD will be converted to CAD. if you're having issues with online portals, you can contact the organisation directly and they can assist you with donations over the phone. but afaik, all of them accept all major credit cards.
as of now, most organisations are only taking in monetary donations due to the overwhelming support from the local community—they ran out of space to keep everything that was donated!! 🖤
if you're not able to donate, just spreading the word is more than enough!
*Whitesands FN has specifically stated this is just for donated goods. monetary donations are still being accepted and are very much appreciated.
Summary — If having a fairytale love story guaranteed a happy ending, then, uh, why are you and Rafe getting a divorce?
Content — angst, hurt/comfort, brother's best friend, childhood friends to high school sweethearts to lovers to... divorce?
Navigation — Part 03 | Part 04 | Part 05
IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).
You literally have to understand that ur closest friends and loved ones may very well have kinks or fetishes that gross or freak you out and they simply won’t tell you because they know it grosses or freaks you out. Like you have no way of knowing if your best friend is into necro roleplay if she doesn’t wanna tell you. Sometimes you date someone for years before finding out they have a thing for incest. Maybe your coworker likes ageplay and diapers. Who gives a fuck. Nothing changes between you knowing and not knowing except your own constructed moral outrage.
it really does feel like a lot of autistic people on tumblr are looking for any possible opportunity to make fun of other autistic people & especially autistic people worse off than them
condescending reading comprehension questions & making fun of people who only read fanfiction and watch cartoons & making fun of picky eaters & "you people can't do anything" & "you can't even ask for ketchup" & "guys gullible is written on the ceiling" and i see these posts reblogged by people i otherwise consider good and kind people and people i consider my friends and it makes it extremely scary to talk about my own experiences for fear of being made fun of by people who should like... understand
like yeah you guys respect me and treat me like the adult that i am NOW but will you continue to do so if i say that my parents or girlfriend have to order food for me in restaurants. if i tell you that i have ARFID so severe my safe food list is less than twenty items long (and that i have no interest in exposure therapy to change that). if i ask for clarification when you make a joke you think should be obvious. if i tell you i only read comics & watch tv marketed for children. if i can't cook. if i play pokemon games over & over. if i can't work. if i can't clean. if i can't live alone. how autistic am i allowed to be before my friends start treating me differently. how autistic am i allowed to be before i become the target of ridicule
Doug Ford said it "a miracle nobody died" lmao like people will praise everything and everyone else before admitting that we did what we always do and took care of our own. It wasn't a miracle. It was indigenous communities helping each other. It's the people who aren't slashing budgets and telling us it's time to stop holding our hands out despite giving us nothing and passing a bill to give us even less who are opening their doors and letting us in.
Before taking off for the Assembly of Nations, officials told Chief Paavola that there was nothing to worry about, and there was no immediate danger, insisting the smoke residents were seeing came from a smoldering fire farther away.
If it wasn't for someone else alerting the community of the danger, they never would have known. No one called. No one came. The people of Collins had 40 minutes to escape before the fire would have consumed them. This isn't a miracle. It's an utter failing of the people in charge do the bare fucking minimum of their job requirements and keep people safe and informed. We have satellite imaging of the wildfires. We have over 8 different sites currently monitoring the fires. And they were told to stay put.
This isn't a miracle. It was Lyndon Paavola, Monty Frank, Scott Frank, Mitchell Huezo, Wayne Wastaken, Mikey and Ryan Wesley, Kyle MacLaurin, and Dean Goodwin making sure their community got out. It was them risking their lives to go back and get more people because the boats they had were too small. It was Chance Paavola, a 13-year-old boy, risking his own life to save his neighbours.
They were so close to the fire that they could feel the heat from the flames. They watched their community burn, and had to flee to the water because there was no other escape. It took 3 hours for Collins to burn.
If they listened to the officials and the people in power, an entire community of indigenous people would have burned to death. If they didn't have boats, they would have burned to death.
This isn't a miracle. It's an injustice. The government did nothing. They were content to let everyone die and now want to go on press tours down playing how miserably and catastrophically they failed another indigenous community on every single level.
nonMC!reader who’s crushing on caleb but knows he likes MC…and then gets into a fake relationship with rafayel to make caleb jealous…
somehow, it works and caleb starts to be more aware of reader…all while rafayel keeps making smug comments behind reader’s back about her to caleb
“mm, sorry, we can’t go tonight. my cutie and i have plans.”
“she’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
“i have to take this—miss cutie is calling.”
it drives caleb nuts and he doesn’t even know why. but as time goes on, he starts to realize that he might harbor feelings for reader, but by then it’s too late.
“so…how’s rafayel nowadays?”
you roll your eyes, but there’s a sickeningly fond smile on your lips that makes caleb’s stomach drop to his feet. “you know how he is. all dramatics. but he’s—we’re doing good. really good.”
the cherry on top is when rafayel sends caleb a picture that night (the only time he ever texts him, mind you) of reader giggling with paint on her cheek.
caleb thinks he might murder someone. but this just eggs rafayel on even more.
a/n. living up to my username bec i’ve been hyper focused on caleb lately
summary: you arrive in paros for a peaceful wedding week and instead walk into a villa full of chaos, gossip, and friends who treat emotional damage like a group hobby. enzo, your very fake boyfriend, commits to the role with deeply suspicious enthusiasm—especially whenever you’re within a five-meter radius of anyone else.
author’s note: kicking things off with the most chaotic friend group in existence. I truly love all their interactions they're so funny and yes this may be an enzo fic but theo my beloved will always be the life of the party ( ♡ `▽´ ♡ )
♫ get him back! - olivia rodrigo. nav. chapters. more enzo.
Arrival Day
Villa Elysia — Paros, Greece
Paros smelled like sunscreen, ouzo lemonade, and terrible decisions.
The second you stepped out of the boat, hot Mediterranean air wrapped around your body like a damp hand. Your sundress stuck to the backs of your thighs immediately, which felt deeply disrespectful considering the amount of money you had spent on it and the fact that you had specifically chosen it because it was supposed to make you look effortlessly elegant.
Instead, you currently looked like someone who had fought the sun and lost.
The villa came into view a few minutes later, perched dramatically along the cliffside overlooking the sea like something ripped straight out of a luxury travel magazine. White stone walls gleamed beneath the sun while blue shutters framed enormous open windows facing the water. The entire place looked suspiciously like the sort of location where people either fell in love or made decisions they regretted for the next decade.
Given the people involved, probably both.
You adjusted the strap of your bag while following the narrow stone pathway toward the entrance. Somewhere nearby, music drifted through the open terrace doors alongside the unmistakable sound of Theo Nott shouting loudly enough to make himself everyone’s problem.
Mattheo’s voice drifted back from somewhere near the bar, too low to fully hear over Theo’s complaining, but Theo still reacted instinctively anyway, flipping him off without even turning around.
Mattheo, somehow, still laughed.
You weren’t sure what was more impressive. The fact that they could communicate almost entirely through insults, or the fact that it somehow worked.
“You look tense,” Enzo observed from beside you.
You glanced at him flatly. “I’m walking uphill in thirty degree weather while carrying luggage. Forgive me for lacking whimsy.”
“I can carry your bag.”
“I’d rather die.”
“See, that’s the sort of emotional openness I adore about you.”
Before you could respond, Enzo reached down and grabbed your hand.
You nearly stopped walking altogether.
The movement was so casual that it took your brain a moment to process it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed.
He looked genuinely confused by the question. “Holding your hand.”
“Why?”
Enzo released a long-suffering sigh, like you were the unreasonable one here. “Well couples generally do that, sweetheart. It’s called affection.”
You tried pulling away immediately.
Unfortunately, Lorenzo Berkshire had always possessed the deeply irritating combination of strong hands, arrogant confidence, and absolutely zero respect for personal boundaries.
Worse, your hand fit into his like it belonged there.
“You’re enjoying this far too much,” you informed him.
“Massively.”
His thumb brushed lazily across your knuckles while he guided you toward the villa entrance like this was the most natural thing in the world.
Annoyingly, your pulse betrayed you instantly.
Which was truly deeply inconvenient.
This was the man who had spent years making your life difficult purely because he found your reactions entertaining.
The man who smiled like he knew exactly how annoying he was and had no intention of changing.
The man who was currently pretending to be your boyfriend so your friends wouldn’t attempt to set you up with every eligible bachelor on the island.
And somehow he was acting far too convincing.
You hated that.
Because the worst part wasn’t that he was good at it.
It was that a small, traitorous part of you could almost believe him.
The terrace overlooked the sea in sweeping stretches of blue and gold while the rest of the group lounged around enormous cream-colored sofas with cocktails in hand. Pansy reclined dramatically across one of the outdoor chairs wearing enough diamonds to blind the entire island while Theo and Blaise argued over something completely incomprehensible near the bar.
Conversation stopped the second you and Enzo stepped onto the terrace holding hands.
The last time you had all been in the same place like this, none of you had known what you would become yet.
It had been easier then—back when the future was still a theoretical thing people joked about over late-night firewhisky and half-smoked joints. Back when Enzo thought he’d be playing Quidditch for the rest of his life.
Now he didn’t.
Retiring had been less dramatic than everyone expected. No scandal, no dramatic exit. Just a final season, a quiet announcement, and then him stepping into Berkshire Group like he’d always been headed there anyway. There were whispers, of course—there always were when someone like him stopped flying— but he never corrected them.
He didn’t need to.
Across from him, Hermione had stopped simply surviving politics and started mastering them. The Department of International Magical Co-operation had turned out to be exactly what she had been built for—languages, treaties, endless negotiations that required patience she once insisted she didn’t have.
Theo, meanwhile, had refused to explain anything about his work at all.
There were rumors. Ingredients that couldn’t be sourced through legal channels. Clients who never stayed in one place long enough to be traced. Something in the back streets of Knockturn Alley that people only referred to in lowered voices.
Theo never confirmed or denied any of it. He just smiled like he knew something the rest of the world didn’t.
Blaise had done what Blaise always did—turned taste into power.
His restaurants weren’t just restaurants anymore. They were institutions. Velvet-lit, reservation-only, spoken about in the same tone people used for ancestral vaults at Gringotts or private members’ clubs that didn’t officially exist on maps. If you knew, you knew. If you didn’t, you simply weren’t worthy.
Mattheo had gone in the opposite direction of all of them.
Charity work didn’t suit the version of him people remembered from school, and maybe that was the point. He worked with impoverished magical youth programs now—funding, outreach, rebuilding broken families and worse broken systems. It made him harder to place in conversations where people preferred labels. He didn’t seem to mind.
Draco and Harry finally put their longstanding rivalry to good use.
Auror partners, improbably efficient. The kind of duo that made criminals cower in fear. Draco still looked personally offended by most things in life, but underneath that carefully structured indifference, he was a force to be reckoned with. Harry still looked like he’d seen too much and refused to let it define him. Somehow, it worked.
Pansy, of course, hadn’t changed roles at all.
She had simply expanded hers.
London didn’t have an official social hierarchy. It just had Pansy Parkinson, and then everyone else clambering to get in her good graces. Invitations, influence, reputations that rose and fell depending on whether she mentioned your name in the right room.
And somehow, against all probability, all of you were here.
Together again.
At a wedding in Paros.
What could possibly go wrong?
Theo’s reaction lasted a fraction too long.
Not the shock—everyone had that—but the way his gaze flicked to Mattheo first, like checking for something before he spoke.
Mattheo didn’t look surprised at all.
He was already watching Theo instead of you.
Pansy blinked once. Then slowly lowered her drink.
“I might be more pissed than I thought,” she announced carefully. “Because surely Y/N and Lorenzo are not walking in holding hands right now.”
Theo’s jaw physically dropped.
“Sweet Salazar,” he breathed. “Berkshire, are you blackmailing her?”
Theo pointed directly at you. “There is absolutely no way she voluntarily agreed to date you.”
“See?” you told Enzo. “Even Theo thinks it’s inconceivable.”
Enzo looked down at you with an offended expression. “What exactly is so baffling about the fact that we’re dating?”
“Because,” Theo declared matter-of-factly, “you’re famously quite the little slut.”
A few people choked on their drinks.
Mattheo let out a short laugh at Theo’s comment, but it wasn’t aimed at Enzo. His eyes stayed on Theo the entire time, like he was waiting to see how far Theo would push it. Theo didn’t look back at him, but the corner of his mouth twitched anyway.
“I beg your pardon?” Enzo said slowly.
“I meant no offense,” Theo said, absolutely meaning offense. “I’m a certified slut myself, but I’ve embraced said sluttiness and profusely refuse to be shackled by monogamy.”
Enzo pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
You bit back a smile. “Theo has a point, actually.”
Theo looked immensely pleased. “Thank you.”
Enzo squeezed your hand slightly harder. “You’re both very cruel to me considering I’m currently in a loving committed relationship.”
You glared at him with pure loathing.
The asshole looked absolutely delighted.
“You are unbearable.”
“And yet you chose me, love.”
You opened your mouth.
Then closed it.
Because technically, unfortunately, he was right.
The group immediately descended into chaos after that.
Questions flew from every direction while Ginny physically dragged you toward the outdoor seating area beside Hermione with the sort of intensity usually reserved for murder investigations.
“How did this happen?” Ginny demanded.
“When did this happen?” Hermione added immediately after.
“Did hell freeze over?” Theo supplied in astonishment.
“Did you hit your head?” Blaise asked you from across the room.
You froze.
Completely froze.
Because in all fairness, fake dating had sounded considerably more convincing on a boat in the middle of the ocean than it did standing in front of your closest friends waiting for an explanation.
Unfortunately, everyone was staring at you expectantly now.
You turned toward Enzo slowly.
The bastard looked perfectly relaxed.
Enzo leaned back against the sofa with one arm stretched lazily behind you while the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. He looked disgustingly attractive in the late afternoon sun, which felt deeply unfair considering the circumstances.
“Honestly?” Enzo said.
Everyone immediately looked at him.
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her at the engagement party.”
Your head snapped toward him.
“She ignored me for most of the night,” he continued. “Actually, no. She insulted me for most of the night.”
“That part I believe,” Theo muttered.
You stared at him carefully, trying to figure out whether he was improvising or genuinely insane.
Probably both.
“I finally asked her out,” he said. “She told me no twice.”
“Three times,” you corrected automatically.
His eyes flickered toward yours immediately, bright with amusement.
“Right,” he said softly. “Three times.”
Ginny gasped dramatically. “Oh, she made you grovel.”
“She did,” Enzo agreed solemnly. “It was horrible. I suffered greatly.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“I was emotionally wounded.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
Laughter erupted around the terrace.
Then he looked directly at you.
“But honestly,” he added, his voice lowering slightly, “I would’ve gotten on my knees and begged if that’s what it took for her to say yes.”
The way he said it made your stomach do something profoundly unhelpful.
Which was ridiculous.
Because Lorenzo Berkshire flirted with everyone. He just happened to be particularly committed to tormenting you specifically.
The terrace erupted instantly.
Pansy clutched Hermione’s arm with genuine delight while Theo looked personally aggrieved by the entire situation. Meanwhile you simply stared at Enzo because what the actual fuck.
He sounded convincing.
Not smooth in the way Enzo usually flirted either. Not teasing or performative or careless. There was something lower in his voice now. Something annoyingly believable.
Ginny sighed wistfully into her drink. “This is juicy. I feel like I’m back in school.”
“I miss Hogwarts gossip,” Pansy agreed.
Hermione looked horrified. “I don’t.”
“I do,” Theo said with a smirk. “Bring back public scandal!”
Pansy sat up straighter. “Remember when Lavender Brown slapped Zacharias Smith during breakfast?”
“Well deserved,” Ginny said.
“Remember when Theo tried dating two girls at once and accidentally invited both of them to Hogsmeade?”
Theo frowned thoughtfully.
“I genuinely forgot.”
“You’re genuinely stupid,” Draco informed him.
Pansy leaned back slightly. “Some things never change. You lot have always been sluts, especially Lorenzo.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “He’s managed to avoid every serious relationship until now.”
“Which is suspicious,” Ginny added immediately.
Pansy tilted her head. “Or strategic.”
Across the table, Harry glanced between you and Enzo. “You two actually look like you might kill each other or get married. There’s no in between.”
“Comforting,” you muttered.
Theo leaned forward. “So what, Berkshire finally decided to grow up?”
Enzo’s smile didn’t change. “I’ve always been mature.”
The group laughed immediately.
Mattheo snorted into his drink before glancing toward Enzo.
“Berkshire somehow dated half the castle without ever getting hexed. Still impressive, honestly.”
“Oh please,” Pansy scoffed. “Girls practically lined up for him.”
Enzo shrugged nonchalantly. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“I wasn’t aware you were a gentleman,” you quipped.
The group erupted into boisterous laughter.
Ginny pointed accusingly. “Lorenzo clearly has a type.”
“I do not.”
“You most certainly do,” Hermione argued,
Mattheo smirked. “Pretty eyes and poor judgment.”
Theo raised his glass. “Low self-preservation instincts.”
“It’s not my fault I’m irresistible.”
You took a slow sip of your drink before speaking. “Mhm. I remember the black book.”
Enzo went completely still.
Every head toward you instantly.
Pansy looked delighted already. “Oh my god.”
Enzo didn’t speak immediately.
Just looked at you for half a second too long—like he was deciding whether to deny it or flee altogether.
Theo sat forward. “I forgot about the black book.”
“What black book?” Hermione asked immediately.
You smiled sweetly. “Lorenzo kept a list.”
"Of all his dalliances and conquests," Theo supplied.
Enzo looked like he wanted the ocean to swallow him whole.
“Wasn’t it organized by grade level?” you continued thoughtfully. “Alphabetized too, if I remember correctly.”
Theo was laughing so hard he nearly dropped his drink.
“And color coded,” you added.
“Oh, this is too good,” Ginny whispered gleefully.
Enzo stared at you for a moment.
His eyes narrowed.
Then, before you could react, his arm slid around your waist and pulled you firmly against his side.
Your body reacted before your brain did—just for a fraction of a second. Like it remembered something you had worked very hard to forget.
“I’m a changed man.”
The movement startled you enough that your breath caught slightly.
“The past is the past,” Enzo said smoothly, smiling at the group while his fingers rested warm against your waist. “I only have eyes for you now, sweetheart.”
You genuinely considered wringing his stupid neck.
You slid your hand down Enzo’s leg under the table and squeezed hard enough to make him inhale sharply. His expression didn’t change, but his fingers tightened at your waist in retaliation.
Mutual destruction.
How very reassuring.
“Aren’t I a lucky woman?”
“Get a room, you two,” Pansy called.
You rolled your eyes and slipped out of Enzo’s hold before the warmth of his hand could settle too comfortably beneath your skin.
Theo grinned widely, which could only really mean trouble. “Wait—hold on. That reminds me.”
You closed your eyes briefly.
You already hated whatever was coming next.
Theo leaned back in his chair, pointing accusingly toward Enzo. “Berkshire used to be unhinged about you, you know.”
Enzo didn’t look up. “I’m sitting right here.”
“Yeah, and?” Theo said cheerfully. “You used to read every single article about her when she was in Paris.”
That finally got your attention.
Not because it surprised you.
But because for the first time that evening, Enzo looked genuinely uncomfortable.
The grip on his glass tightened slightly.
“That is categorically untrue,” he said flatly.
Pansy lifted a brow. “Is it?”
Ginny immediately sat forward, delighted. “Nott, please explain in excruciating detail.”
Theo looked far too pleased with himself. “Oh, he was religious about it. Every interview, every feature, every miniscule piece she did for those French magazines—he’d read them like scripture.”
Blaise nodded. “That is unfortunately accurate.”
Draco didn’t even look up from his drink. “Painfully accurate.”
Hermione blinked. “You tracked Y/N's career?”
“Theo is exaggerating," Enzo said through his teeth.
Mattheo, from across the table, finally smirked. “He absolutely isn’t.”
Enzo shot him a warning look.
But Theo only leaned forward further, like he was just getting warmed up. “He devoured anything and everything about you.”
“That’s insane,” you said before you could stop yourself.
The second it left your mouth, Enzo turned toward you.
Too quickly.
Too sharply.
“There’s nothing wrong with staying informed,” he said defensively.
Ginny burst out laughing. “Informed. Right.”
Pansy looked genuinely delighted now. “So while Y/N was living her glamorous Paris life, Lorenzo was basically devouring her press coverage like a lunatic?”
“I’m not a lunatic.”
Theo raised his glass. “Right. And I’m the Chosen One.”
A quiet laugh escaped you despite yourself.
You tilted your head slightly, watching him now instead of the others. “So you were reading about me.”
Not a question. Just a gentle confirmation, like you were testing how it sounded out loud.
Enzo didn’t answer right away.
Which, unfortunately for him, said everything.
You leaned back in your chair, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it uncomfortable before adding lightly, “That’s… actually quite sweet.”
His eyes flicked to yours.
A warning in them now. Subtle, but there.
You ignored it.
“A little strange, maybe,” you continued thoughtfully, “but sweet.”
A few people made faint, amused sounds around the table.
Enzo exhaled slowly through his nose. “It’s not—”
“It’s fine,” you cut in easily, before he could defend himself too hard. Then, with a small tilt of your glass toward him: “We’re dating. You’re allowed to be a little obsessed with me.”
The table reacted instantly.
Theo choked. “Oh my—”
Pansy looked like she might combust from joy. “I love her.”
Ginny was grinning into her drink. “She’s not wrong, actually.”
Enzo, however, went very still.
A muscle in his jaw ticked once.
“Right,” he said slowly, like he was choosing each word carefully. “Of course.”
You smiled innocently at him over your glass.
“Good,” you said. “Because I saw you on a few magazine covers too.”
That made him look up fully now.
“Oh?”
“Mostly in passing,” you added. “You were always doing something vaguely expensive-looking in a suit. It got repetitive.”
Theo made a strangled sound into his drink.
Draco actually laughed out loud.
Blaise looked faintly impressed. “That’s fair.”
Enzo, however, didn’t react to any of them.
He was only looking at you now.
“You read about me,” he said quietly.
The teasing was gone now.
Completely.
You held his gaze, expression perfectly calm. “There’s nothing wrong with staying informed.”
A beat.
Theo leaned back, exhaling dramatically. “Right. This is officially worse than I thought.”
That broke it again—cleanly, messily, like it always did with them.
Ginny immediately clapped her hands. “Okay. No. I’m done. I need answers.”
Hermione was already standing. “Come on.”
She reached for your wrist before you could object.
“We’re continuing this interrogation inside.”
The kitchen sat just off the terrace, all white marble and open windows letting warm sea air drift through gauzy curtains.
You barely made it three steps inside before Ginny grabbed your wrist.
“Oh absolutely not,” she said immediately. “You’re explaining everything.”
Hermione followed behind her carrying her drink with far too much calm for someone clearly enjoying this.
“Start from the beginning.”
“There isn’t much to explain.”
Ginny stared at you blankly.
“Y/N.”
“What?”
“You disappeared for one engagement party and came back dating Lorenzo Berkshire. That requires several explanations and possibly a PowerPoint.”
You grabbed a bottle of water from the counter mostly to avoid looking at either of them. Outside on the terrace, Theo was still loudly reenacting Enzo nearly choking over the black book comment while everyone laughed.
“I just,” you started carefully, “ran into him.”
Ginny looked deeply unimpressed. “You don’t genuinely expect us to believe that.”
“Trust me, I wasn’t expecting it either.”
Hermione frowned. “I thought you hated him?”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“I knew it!” Ginny exclaimed. “All the arguing and fighting is just some fucked up form of foreplay, isn’t it?”
“The sex has to be insane.”
Your cheeks flushed the same shade as her hair. “Gin!”
“What?” Ginny said, completely unbothered. “The two of you have been at it since school.”
“Look,” you said with a sigh, “whatever is between me and Lorenzo is complicated, alright?”
“So you like him,” Hermione accused.
You unscrewed the water bottle slowly. “We’re just seeing where things go.”
Which technically was not a lie.
Probably.
Hermione leaned against the counter, studying you carefully. “And how does he feel?”
You nearly answered immediately with something sarcastic before your brain, unhelpfully, replayed the sound of his voice earlier.
That stupid low sincerity he slipped into sometimes without warning.
Deeply irritating behavior, honestly.
“He’s being dramatic because there’s an audience,” you said finally.
Ginny barked out a laugh. “Please. Berkshire doesn’t look at girls like that.”
You frowned slightly. “Like what?”
“Like they’re the only person in the room worth paying attention to.”
“That feels dramatic.”
Hermione took a sip of her drink. “It’s really not.”
You looked between the two of them skeptically.
Ginny crossed her arms. “Do you know how irritating this is for me personally? I spent an embarrassing amount of effort trying to set you up with Mattheo.”
That caught your attention despite yourself.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Tell that to Mattheo,” Ginny repeated. “He’s attractive, funny, emotionally functional, and significantly less of an arsehole than Berkshire. It would’ve been perfect.”
You glanced absentmindedly toward the terrace.
Mattheo sat stretched back lazily in one of the lounge chairs while Theo talked with his hands beside him. Enzo stood near the railing with Draco and Blaise, sunlight catching the sharp lines of his face as he laughed at something Blaise said.
Then, like he felt you looking at him, Enzo turned his head.
His eyes found yours immediately.
Predictably, he looked unbearably smug the second he caught you staring.
“And there it is,” Ginny sighed dramatically.
You looked away from him first. “What?”
“Y/N,” Hermione said gently, “that man has been obsessed with you since Hogwarts.”
You snorted softly. “You can’t possibly believe that.”
“Oh, I absolutely do,” Hermione replied.
“Why?”
Hermione blinked once like the answer was obvious. “Because I have eyes.”
She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like there wasn’t anything confusing about the way Enzo looked at you.
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Y/N,” Ginny interrupted, “he got detention sixth year because Cormac McLaggen asked if you were single.”
“He threatened him with a chair,” Hermione clarified.
Your eyebrows lifted despite yourself.
“You’re both clearly unwell.”
“It’s true,” Ginny confirmed. “Theo still brings it up when he wants to embarrass him.”
You looked back toward the terrace again before you could stop yourself.
Enzo was smiling at something Draco said, head tipped back slightly as late sunlight spilled across his skin. Relaxed. Easy. Beautiful in that infuriating effortless way he had always been beautiful.
Then he glanced toward the kitchen again.
Straight toward you.
Honestly, it was starting to feel less like a coincidence and more like a problem you absolutely had no intention of dealing with.
Hermione followed your line of sight before sighing softly. “Abort the Mattheo plan.”
Ginny groaned dramatically. “Oh come on.”
“No, seriously,” Hermione replied. “Look at him.”
You shouldn’t have looked.
Unfortunately, you did.
Enzo was still watching you.
Theo said something beside him that made everyone else laugh, but Enzo barely reacted because his attention remained fixed entirely on you.
The conversation around him kept going, but it might as well have been underwater.
He didn’t react to any of it.
Heat crawled slowly up your neck.
“You still think he isn’t absolutely head over heels for you?” Hermione informed you calmly.
You tore your eyes away from him. “You’re both insane.”
“Maybe,” Ginny allowed. “But if he breaks your heart, I’m legally allowed to kill him.”
“I’ll help,” Hermione offered.
You softened a little at that. Because this was why you loved them. Not because they hovered or pried or treated you delicately. Ginny certainly never had.
But because they cared.
Loudly. Aggressively, sometimes.
Still, they cared.
You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head as the three of you drifted back toward the terrace.
The second you stepped outside again, Enzo’s attention snapped toward you instantly.
Honestly, at this point it was becoming slightly ridiculous.
Hermione suddenly sat up straighter like she’d remembered something important. “Actually, that reminds me.”
You felt immediate dread.
“Since you two lovebirds are dating,” she continued brightly, “you can share a room.”
You turned toward her immediately. “Mione...”
“It’s perfect, actually,” she said, entirely too pleased with herself. “That frees up the last room for Ron and Susan.”
“We can absolutely sleep separately,” you argued.
Enzo looked personally offended by the suggestion.
Theo wolf-whistled loudly. “Berkshire sharing a room with the girl he’s been obsessed with since Hogwarts. This is better than television.”
“You people are exhausting,” you informed them.
“And yet deeply entertaining,” Blaise replied.
Hermione stood, grabbing your wrist before you could protest further. “Come on. I’ll show you both upstairs.”
The boys immediately started making obnoxious noises behind you while Ginny laughed herself breathless against Pansy’s shoulder.
You refused to look at Enzo.
You could still feel him grinning anyway.
“Lorenzo.”
Enzo snapped to attention like an obedient pet. “Coming, love.”
The group collectively lost their minds once again.
The bedroom was beautiful in the infuriating way all expensive villas were beautiful. White linen sheets covered a massive bed positioned directly across from open balcony doors overlooking the sea. Late sunlight spilled across the floor in warm golden streaks while sheer curtains moved lazily in the breeze.
You stopped in the doorway.
Something about it didn’t feel like a joke anymore. Not in the way the rest of the day had.
There was one bed.
You were beginning to suspect this entire trip was a punishment.
A beautiful, expensive, Mediterranean punishment.
Or worse.
A setup you didn’t fully understand yet.
And unfortunately, Lorenzo Berkshire was apparently part of the package.
“This has to be a joke.”
Enzo looked over your shoulder.
“It’s fate.”
“Oh, this is delicious,” Theo said from somewhere behind you.
“Leave,” you ordered.
“No.”
“Now.”
Theo grinned before Draco physically dragged him away from the doorway while everyone else laughed and filtered back downstairs. On the way out, Theo brushed past Mattheo slightly too close.
Mattheo didn’t move.
He just tilted his head a fraction, like he was listening to something only Theo had said without speaking.
The second the room finally emptied, silence settled between you and Enzo.
You crossed your arms slowly. “This is your fault.”
“My fault?” he repeated. “You’re the one who brought up the black book in front of everyone.”
“You deserved it.”
Lorenzo sighed in defeat.
“Probably.”
You hated that he admitted that so easily.
He set his suitcase near the dresser before glancing toward you again, amusement still lingering at the corners of his mouth.
“You’re adorable when you’re angry.”
“I’m going to push you off this balcony.”
“You’d miss me.”
“Be serious.”
“I am serious.”
That annoyed you more than it should have.
Because beneath the teasing and sarcasm, he was looking at you strangely again.
Too soft. Too attentive. Like he was studying your expression for answers you had no intention of giving him.
It made your chest feel uncomfortably tight.
You looked away first.
“I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
“Not even if I ask really nicely?”
You glared at him.
“Fine, I’ll take the couch.” Enzo sighed.
Then that stupid smirk of his appeared again.
“But my offer still stands. If you ever feel lonely in that big, comfy bed—”
“I’d sooner cuddle a cactus.”
“Well you have called me a prick on multiple occassions…”
“Lorenzo.”
He answered immediately.
“Yes, love?"
He said it too easily. Like the nickname rolled off of his tongue without even thinking twice.
God.
You were going to kill him by the end of the week.
