she shines like stars

but has a dark side like the moon

[lexamiele]

Lexi | ✞ | 25 | she/her | Midwest princess | The Oh Hellos enjoyer

Info Masterlist Current WIPs

My main blog is @mightymargaretofanjou, I like and follow from there!

While you're here, please do your daily clicks ♡

If you have funds to donate please take a look at the posts listed under the 🍉🍉 tag on my blog!

While this blog does post Harry Potter content, I in no way endorse the views of the original creator of the series.

Racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc. have no home on this blog.

Header and divider are from @saradika-graphics here

[itsawritblr]

[tourfilm]

living under a rock is so fun i love watching a movie that’s been famous for decades and being like wow this is so good.. did you guys know about this

[butterflyinthewell]

To any suicidal followers I may have: This is a sign to not kill yourself. You are loved and the world is special because you are in it. Keep holding on.

Reblog this when it’s on your dash. You will save someone’s life.

[soreheadinamblemood]

[speaknowgirl3184]

You Said It Didn't Mean Anything

Lorenzo Berkshire x Female Reader

A secret kiss in the library turns into weeks of stolen moments. Except you overhear him telling Blaise it was “nothing.”

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, (let me know if there is anything else).

Word Count: 4k

Masterlist

The library was supposed to be silent.

It usually was, a comforting, predictable silence, broken only by the faint scratch of quills and the occasional turn of a page.

But tonight? Tonight it felt loud. Crackling. Alive.

Or maybe that was just the sound of your heartbeat slamming against your ribs as you stood between the shelves, a lonely pool of golden candlelight spilling across the floor. You had come here for a book, a moment alone, anything to clear your head after a long day.

You did not come here for Lorenzo Berkshire.

Yet there he was.

He stepped out from behind a row of dusty volumes so quietly you didn’t even register his presence until he was already too close, close enough that the fabric of his robes brushed yours, close enough for your breath to catch in your throat.

“Y/N,” he murmured.

You tried not to react to the way your name sounded in his voice. Soft. Careful. Almost… reverent.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

His eyes flicked over your face like he was memorizing it. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You swallowed hard. “I was just-”

“Running away from everyone?” His lips tilted into a crooked half-smile. “I noticed.”

You hated that he noticed. You hated how easily he saw through you.

You hated how much you wanted him to.

You stepped back, only to realize you’d backed straight into the bookshelf behind you. He didn’t trap you, didn’t lean in or crowd your space, but somehow he felt closer than anyone had ever been.

His hand lifted before he seemed to realize what he was doing. His fingers brushed your cheek, barely a whisper of contact.

But it was enough to set your entire body on fire.

You froze. He froze. Your breath hitched. His exhaled shakily.

“You’re shaking,” Lorenzo murmured, voice dropping so low it felt like it curled straight into your bones.

“I’m not,” you whispered back automatically, even though your pulse was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

His thumb brushed your jaw, feather-light, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he touched you any harder.

“Liar,” he murmured.

Something inside you snapped, a tension you’d been holding between your teeth for weeks. Months. Maybe ever since he first started glancing at you in class, lingering too long, stealing looks like he didn’t want to be caught wanting anything.

You should have moved his hand away.

You should have stepped aside.

Instead your fingers curled into the front of his tie, not pulling, not guiding, just holding. Quiet. Terrified. Wanting.

His breath stuttered.

He looked at your lips. Then your eyes. Then your lips again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me.”

His voice trembled on the last word.

And then he kissed you.

Slowly. Carefully. Like he was afraid he’d break the moment if he moved too fast.

His lips brushed yours at first, just a soft, delicate press, a question, not a claim. A promise he wasn’t sure he was allowed to make.

Your breath caught against his mouth.

He deepened the kiss only when you rose onto your toes and pressed back, fingers tightening in his tie. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, thumb stroking the curve of your jaw as if he’d been dying to touch you for far too long.

His other hand found your waist, warm, steady, claiming without meaning to. He pulled you closer until your bodies were a breath apart and you could feel the tremor in his chest every time he inhaled.

Your lips parted for him. His breath hitched. And your world stopped.

It wasn’t a kiss meant to be stolen, it was one meant to ruin. Slow. Sweet. Devastating.

You could feel everything he wasn’t saying. Everything he shouldn’t have felt. Everything you shouldn’t have wanted.

When you finally broke away, you were both breathing hard, not from the kiss, but from trying to hold onto the pieces of your sanity.

He didn’t move away.

Instead he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed like he was trying to calm the frantic beat of his heart.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered, voice rough with regret he was trying to hide.

You should have stepped back. You should have nodded, laughed, pretended it didn’t matter.

But you didn’t. You stayed where you were.

Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Then why did you?” you breathed.

His eyes snapped open.

And the look he gave you, Merlin. It tore through you.

Want. Fear. Longing. Regret. A thousand emotions he didn’t know how to say out loud.

His lips parted. But no words came out.

Because Lorenzo Berkshire, for once in his life, didn’t have an answer he could speak.

And that scared him more than the kiss ever did.

----------------

The next day, it happened again.

Not a kiss, not exactly, but something worse.

Something that burned more, lingered longer, carved deeper.

You were walking to class, minding your own business, trying very, very hard to pretend that the kiss in the library hadn’t set your entire world off balance.

But the universe, or fate, or cruelty, had other plans.

A hand wrapped around your wrist.

Warm. Steady. Familiar.

Lorenzo.

You barely had time to gasp before he tugged you out of the flow of students and into a tiny alcove behind a tapestry, tucked halfway between Charms and Magical Theory.

Your back hit the wall, gently, not roughly, but with just enough pressure that your breath caught in your throat.

His palm pressed flat beside your head. Blocking you in. Shielding you. Trapping you. You couldn’t decide which.

He said nothing. You said nothing.

His breath ghosted across your cheek, warm, uneven, as if he’d run here, as if he’d been searching for you.

You swallowed hard.

“Hi,” you whispered because your brain had short-circuited and all the clever things you might’ve said dissolved the moment he looked at you.

His gaze dragged from your eyes to your lips. Slowly. Intentionally. Devastatingly.

“Hi,” he murmured back.

And somehow the single syllable felt intimate. Like he was saying something else. Something he didn’t have the courage to voice.

He didn’t kiss you.

But it felt like he did.

His hand didn’t move from where it braced beside your head, but his other hovered near your waist, trembling like he wanted to touch you but didn’t trust himself to stop once he did.

Your heart hammered. His chest rose and fell too quickly. Neither of you breathed right.

And then, as though he caught himself, remembered something he shouldn’t want, he stepped back.

Just one inch.

But it felt like losing something you hadn’t even fully had.

He didn’t speak again. He just brushed past you, hair falling into his eyes, jaw tense, hands curling into fists at his sides like he was holding himself together with the last thread of his self-control.

And that was how it went.

For weeks.

----------------

Stolen glances during lectures, quick flicks of his eyes to your mouth whenever you bit your lip out of habit, followed immediately by him pretending to read his notes.

Passing each other quills and pretending it meant nothing when your fingers brushed, even though the touch sent a shock through your nerves like lightning.

Sitting side by side in the library pretending to study, when in truth you were both too aware of the way your legs pressed together under the table, the way his knee would nudge yours gently, slowly, intentionally…

…and then stay there.

His parchment would go untouched for long stretches because he kept glancing at the way you twirled your quill, the way your hair fell over your shoulder, the way you breathed.

One time, you dropped your quill.

You reached for it. He reached for it.

Your hands collided.

You froze. He froze.

His fingers curled around yours for half a second too long.

He swallowed so hard you heard it.

Then he let go, quickly, reluctantly, just before he did something reckless.

----------------

Some nights, when the castle was quiet and most students were in bed, you’d wander down to the common room unable to sleep, the shadows long and soft across the floor.

And Lorenzo was always there.

Not by accident. Not in passing. Always waiting.

He didn’t greet you with words.

He just stepped close, so close you felt warmth radiating off him, and he would study your face with that unreadable expression that always left you trembling.

Then he’d gently hook a finger under your chin, tilting your head up just slightly.

Not enough to kiss you.

Just enough to hurt.

Other nights, he’d pull you into a shadowed corner between old tapestries, using the darkness to hide how his voice always softened when he spoke your name.

His forehead lowered until it rested against yours.

His hand slipped to your hip. Slow. Warm. Familiar. The kind of touch that felt like a secret.

Every damn time he breathed your name, your knees went weak.

“Y/N…”

Like a confession. Like a warning. Like he hated himself for how much he wanted you.

And yet, he never kissed you again.

And you never asked why.

Because asking meant ruining the illusion. Asking meant forcing him to define the undefined. Asking meant risking the fragile, burning thing that lived between your ribs every time he looked at you like you were made of starlight.

He never said what it meant.

You never said what it felt like.

And the silence only made it worse.

Because wanting someone in the dark is a dangerous thing.

And wanting Lorenzo Berkshire was starting to feel like drowning with no intention of swimming to the surface.

----------------

It was stupid, going back to the library for a book you didn’t actually need.

It was even stupider overhearing voices in the restricted section and recognizing them instantly.

Blaise Zabini.

And Lorenzo.

You froze before you even meant to. Lorenzo’s voice drifted out between the shelves.

“You’ve been disappearing a lot lately,” Blaise teased. “Is there a girl I should know about?”

Lorenzo scoffed. “It’s nothing.”

Your stomach sank.

Blaise hummed. “Nothing? Really? Because last week I saw you leaving the library looking like you just-”

“It was nothing, Blaise.”

You felt something snap in your chest.

The floor tilted. The lamps on the walls blurred. Your throat went dry in a single breath that felt like choking.

He kept going.

“It didn’t mean anything,” Lorenzo said. “None of it does. It’s just stress relief.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth.

Your eyes burned.

Your ribs ached.

Stress relief.

Stress. Relief.

That was what you were to him?

A distraction? A joke? Something warm and convenient in the dark?

You didn’t know you’d stepped forward until the floorboard creaked.

Two heads whipped toward the sound.

Blaise saw you first. His eyes widened sharply.

Lorenzo’s face drained of color.

He whispered your name.

It broke you.

You turned and walked, no, ran out of the library before he could take another breath.

“Y/N wait!”

His voice chased you down the corridor, frantic, echoing off the stone.

You didn’t stop.

You didn’t look at him.

Your vision blurred with hot, stupid tears.

He grabbed your wrist, the same way he’d done in every stolen moment, but this time you ripped your arm away like it burned.

“Don’t,” you whispered, voice splintering.

Lorenzo looked like he’d been punched. “Please. Just let me explain.”

“You don’t have to,” you said tightly. “I heard everything.”

His throat bobbed. “It came out wrong.”

“Really?” Your laugh cracked. “Because it sounded perfectly clear.”

“I didn’t want Blaise to-”

“To what?” you snapped. “Know you’ve been slumming it with someone beneath you?”

His face twisted. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it, Lorenzo?” you demanded. “Tell me. Because apparently it ‘didn’t mean anything.’”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

Nothing came out.

And that was your answer.

Your chest ached so violently you thought you might throw up.

“Stay away from me,” you whispered, and your voice broke so softly it barely survived the air.

He reached for you again, reflexively, desperately.

You stepped back like his touch was poison.

His hand fell.

His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean it like that…”

“But you said it.” You swallowed hard. “You said it didn’t mean anything.”

His jaw clenched. His eyes looked glassy, panicked, hurting.

But he didn’t deny it.

And you walked away.

----------------

Lorenzo didn’t sleep that night.

Or the next.

He tried to talk to you, in class, in the hallways, in the common room, but you avoided him like your life depended on it.

Which, in a way, it did.

Because every time you saw him, the memory hit you like a curse:

It didn’t mean anything.It didn’t mean anything.It didn’t mean anything.

Lorenzo looked like hell.

Blaise hit him upside the head the next morning.

“You’re an idiot.”

Lorenzo didn’t argue.

He just stared across the Great Hall at you, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders curved inward, the way you avoided even glancing in his direction, like he’d ruined something irreparable.

And he had.

Because Blaise had asked him a stupid question he wasn’t ready to answer honestly.

That it wasn’t nothing. That it wasn’t meaningless. That it wasn’t just stress relief.

That he liked you. Too much. More than he’d ever liked anyone.

And that terrified him.

So he lied.

And you heard him.

And now he couldn’t fix it.

----------------

It took a week for him to catch you.

A week of you dodging him in the corridors, choosing the longest possible routes to every class, slipping out of rooms the second he stepped in, leaving meals early, pretending to be asleep in the common room when he entered.

And every time you saw him from a distance, hair tousled, eyes frantic, jaw clenched like he was in pain, something inside you twisted.

But pain wasn’t an excuse.

Not for what he said.

Not for the way he made you feel small.

So you kept running.

Until he finally stopped trying to approach you in public.

And started waiting for the moment you’d be alone.

It was after your last class when he cornered you, gently, not forcefully, in an empty classroom that still smelled faintly of chalk and warmed parchment. The door clicked shut behind you, not locked, just closed. Just enough to keep the world out. Just enough to trap the two of you inside the mess he’d created.

You spun on your heel.

He stood in front of the door.

Not blocking you, not intimidating, just… there.

Hands shaking at his sides. Eyes raw. Shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact.

“Just… listen,” he said softly. “Please.”

The word please cracked something in your chest. No arrogance. No swagger. Just desperation.

You stared at him, but your jaw locked, throat already burning.

He took in a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

You said nothing. You didn’t trust your voice not to break.

“I panicked,” he whispered.

You swallowed. Hard.

Still silence.

He dragged a hand through his hair, a restless, frantic motion, and you realized he’d done that so many times the past week that pieces of his hair stuck up in soft, uneven tufts.

“I didn’t want Blaise to know,” he said quickly, words tripping over each other. “He would’ve teased me for the rest of my life. And Draco too. And Theo would’ve never let me breathe about it-”

“This isn’t about Blaise,” you whispered, finally finding your voice.

He froze.

You took a breath that felt like swallowing glass. “You said it didn’t mean anything.”

His expression shattered.

“I know,” he breathed. “I know. And that’s not, it’s not what I meant.”

You shook your head, blinking hard. “Then why did you say it?”

He looked at you like he wished he could turn back time. “Because I’m an idiot. Because I’m… bad at this.” His voice trembled. “Because I don’t know how to- how to do feelings, alright? I don’t know how to let people see what matters to me.”

He took a step forward, too fast.

You flinched.

He froze so abruptly it was like you’d hit him.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His hands lifted a little, then fell again, like he didn’t trust himself not to hurt you even with a touch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m not, I’m not trying to scare you.”

“I’m not scared,” you said softly.

He gave you a sad, broken smile. “No. You’re hurt. Because of me.”

You looked away.

He took a breath like it physically hurt him.

“Those moments with you,” Lorenzo said, voice breaking. “They weren’t nothing.”

Your breath hitched.

“They weren’t meaningless,” he continued. “They weren’t… they weren’t a mistake, or stress relief, or something I wanted to hide.”

You dared to look at him.

His eyes were shimmering.

“They were-” he swallowed, throat bobbing deeply, “they were the best part of my day.”

The room went silent.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Like your brain refused to process what you were hearing.

“I didn’t say it because…” He exhaled shakily. “Because admitting it out loud made it real. And that scared the hell out of me.”

He looked down for a moment, then back up with an expression so raw it almost didn’t look like him.

“You made me feel something I didn’t know how to handle.”

Your chest squeezed tight.

“I messed up,” he whispered. “I messed up so badly. And I know I don’t deserve you to listen. I know I don’t deserve a second chance. But just-”

His voice cracked.

“Just tell me how to fix it.”

Your breath stilled.

Because that was the problem.

You wanted him to fix it. Wanted him to mean it. Wanted him to reach for you and pull you back into all the stolen moments you’d lived off for weeks.

But want wasn’t trust.

And trust wasn’t a bandage you could slap onto an open wound and pretend it wasn’t bleeding.

“You can’t fix this with one apology,” you whispered. “Or one confession.”

His face fell.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You made me feel like I was nothing to you.”

“You weren’t,” he said immediately, desperately.

“But you made me believe it.”

He inhaled sharply, as if the words pierced straight through him.

You looked away, blinking back tears. “I can’t do this. Not right now.”

The words weren’t loud. They weren’t sharp. There was no venom. Just exhaustion.

And somehow… that hurt him more.

Lorenzo’s shoulders sagged. His hands slowly dropped to his sides. He nodded once, small, shaky, devastatingly resigned.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll… I’ll step aside.”

And he did.

Heart in his throat. Pain written across every inch of his face.

He moved away from the door.

Carefully. Gently. As if the air between you might shatter if he breathed wrong.

You walked past him.

Close enough to feel the heat of his body. Close enough to smell the faint hint of cedar on his robes. Close enough that his fingers twitched, instinctively, like he wanted to reach for you.

But he didn’t.

He stood perfectly still.

And for the first time since you’d known him, Lorenzo Berkshire didn’t try to touch you.

Didn’t try to chase you.

Didn’t try to fix what he’d broken with a smirk or a whispered apology.

He just watched you leave.

With the expression of someone realizing a little too late what losing you truly felt like.

----------------

That night, he sank to the floor of his dorm room like his legs had simply given out. No dramatics. No pacing. No anger.

Just quiet collapse.

He pressed his back to the bed frame and buried his face in his hands, breathing like someone trying not to drown.

The room was painfully still.

Blaise didn’t say I told you so.Draco didn’t smirk. Theo didn’t even attempt a joke.

They just stood there for a moment, unsure, before lowering themselves to sit on the floor around him, not touching, not crowding, simply existing beside him because they’d never seen Lorenzo look like this.

Lorenzo Berkshire, who laughed at everything. Who flirted with everyone. Who never took anything seriously.

Now shaking.

Quietly, miserably shaking.

He whispered your name into his palms, like it hurt to let it leave his mouth. Like it tasted like regret and blood and something he’d never get back.

“She thinks I didn’t care,” he choked out. His voice cracked in a way none of them had ever heard. “She thinks it was nothing.”

Theo hesitated before resting a hand on his shoulder, gentle, hesitant, like Lorenzo might shatter if touched too hard.

“Then prove it wasn’t.”

Lorenzo dragged his hands down his face. His eyes were red. He looked… lost. Truly, utterly lost.

“I don’t know how,” he whispered, voice breaking on the last word.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Blaise exhaled sharply, not mocking, not smug, just tired.

“Start by not lying next time.”

It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t meant to be.

It was the truth they all wished he’d realized before everything crumbled.

Lorenzo let out a breath that sounded like something inside him had cracked.

If only he hadn’t panicked. If only he hadn’t brushed you off. If only he’d said the truth the first damn time, that you meant more than a secret library kiss, more than stolen moments, more than he had ever been brave enough to admit.

If only.

The two words echoed in his mind long after his friends fell silent.

And for the first time in his life, Lorenzo Berkshire wished he could go back in time, not to change a grade or a prank or a Quidditch match.

But to stop himself from breaking the only person he’d ever truly wanted.

----------------

You cried that night, not the dramatic kind, not the loud kind, but the quiet, aching sort that settles behind your ribs and refuses to stop.

You pressed your face into your pillow, body curled toward the wall, the blankets pulled up to your ears, hiding every tremor of your shoulders so your roommates wouldn’t hear.

Because how could you explain it?

How could you explain the way his voice still echoed in your skull, sharp and cold and impossibly casual?

It didn’t mean anything.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but the memory played anyway, the laugh in his voice, the careless tone, the way he tossed the words out like they cost him nothing.

No apology could erase that. No shaky confession could drown out the sound of him discarding what you’d cherished.

Maybe he’d meant what he said to you today. Maybe he was sincere. Maybe he was sorry.

But apologies didn’t unbreak something.

And the truth was… you didn’t know what he felt anymore. You didn’t know if those moments had been special for him. You didn’t know if they had meant something real, or if you’d just been something easy.

Maybe he’d felt something. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe you were a mistake he regretted.

A convenient secret.

A warm body in a quiet library.

Your chest tightened until breathing felt like swallowing glass. Sorting through it hurt too much, so you didn’t try.

You curled into yourself, knees to your chest, knuckles white as you held the edge of your pillow and whispered into the fabric, voice trembling:

“It meant everything to me…”

The admission shattered you all over again.

Because that was the worst part, wasn’t it?

It didn’t matter how many times Lorenzo wished he hadn’t said it. It didn’t matter how desperately he wanted to take it back. It didn’t matter how much he regretted it now.

He had said it.

And no matter what he claimed now… your heart couldn’t forget the first truth he chose.

You believed him.

----------------------

Hopefully you guys like this one, tbh I wrote this like super late cause I was working allllllll day so if you see a spelling error or something let me know!!!! <3

[sophiariddlenott]

HelIoo, can I request A Muggle reader and Theodore? One day the boys, or only him, decide to go to the Muggle world to explore, and Theo falls in love with a girl??

My Wizard Boyfriend

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Muggle Reader

Summary: Theodore only meant to watch a Spider-Man movie in the muggle world, until he met you. Between comic book discussions and milkshake dates, you both fell in love. When you finally found out he was a wizard… you realised you were dating a real-life Doctor Strange.

Warnings: Nothing! Fluffy flustered Theo!

A/N: I COMBINED MARVEL AND HARRY POTTER I'M SO HAPPY! Thanks for the request @justpaucaro!

Masterlist

————————————————————————

Lorenzo wanted to see some ridiculous film about a boy who got bitten by a radioactive spider.

Muggles were absolutely mad.

Who looked at a spider and thought, You know what? That should give someone superpowers.

And then, somehow, turned that idea into a bestselling comic.

And then into a film.

Theodore remained thoroughly unconvinced.

Still...

He couldn't deny he was curious.

As a pure-blood, he'd never spent any real time in the Muggle world. His father had always dismissed Muggles as beneath them-people who stumbled through life without magic, relying on crude inventions to compensate.

"They're uncomfortable," Mattheo muttered, tugging irritably at the waistband of his jeans.

"They're called clothes, Mattheo," Lorenzo replied with an exaggerated sigh. "And we're wearing them so we blend in. Now hurry up-the cinema's this way."

He strode confidently down the pavement, clearly the only one who knew where he was going.

Theo, Mattheo, Draco and Blaise followed behind, each looking varying degrees of unimpressed.

Theo's attention wandered.

Everything around him felt strangely fascinating.

Cars rushed past in neat rows, lights flashing as they disappeared into the distance.

He watched one disappear around a corner.

"They built all of this without magic," he murmured.

Mattheo snorted.

"They don't even have Floo Powder."

"They use aeroplanes instead," Lorenzo said over his shoulder. "Massive metal things that fly through the sky."

"Takes hours," Mattheo added dramatically.

"What an appalling way to travel," Draco scoffed.

Blaise glanced sideways at him.

"Really?"

Draco folded his arms.

"Yes."

"So what does Granger think about your opinion of Muggles?"

Draco's ears immediately turned pink.

"Oh, shut up."

Blaise burst into laughter while Theo quietly tuned them out, taking in the unfamiliar streets instead.

There were no enchanted shop windows.

No owls overhead.

No witches bustling between cafés.

Everything was different.

Oddly...

He didn't dislike it.

The cinema was crowded.

People milled around the lobby wearing bright red shirts decorated with black webs and enormous white eyes.

Theo frowned.

"They seem awfully committed to this spider boy."

Lorenzo pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Spider-Man."

Theo looked at him.

"How is he a man if he's only seventeen?"

"It's a superhero film, Nott."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It's not supposed to."

Theo hummed thoughtfully.

"Poor writing."

Lorenzo stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head.

"I'm buying the tickets."

He pointed a warning finger at the group.

"Do not wander off."

He disappeared towards the ticket counter, leaving the others standing in the middle of the lobby.

Mattheo had already started arguing with Draco over something called popcorn.

"I refuse to spend eight pounds on corn," Draco declared.

"It's not just corn," Lorenzo called back from the queue.

"It's an experience."

"It's corn."

"It's popcorn."

Theo decided he wanted no part in whatever argument that was.

Instead, he slipped his hands into the pockets of the borrowed jacket Lorenzo had insisted he wear and looked around.

The place was loud.

People laughed.

Children ran past with oversized drinks.

Music drifted from unseen speakers overhead.

No one glanced at anyone else.

No one cared who came from an old family.

No one whispered about blood status.

For the first time in a long while...

Everything felt wonderfully ordinary.

Someone suddenly collided with him.

"Oh my God-I'm so sorry!"

A stack of paper cups slipped from your arms.

Before they could hit the floor, Theo instinctively caught them.

You blinked up at him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then you laughed.

"You've got amazing reflexes."

You carefully took the cups back.

"My manager would've killed me if I'd dropped those."

Theo frowned slightly.

"...Killed you?"

You tilted your head.

"...From my job?"

Right.

Muggles worked.

Even teenagers.

He cleared his throat.

"Of course."

You smiled politely, apparently assuming he'd been joking.

"You guys here for Spider-Man?"

Theo opened his mouth.

"...I..."

Nothing came out.

His mind had gone completely blank.

Behind him, Mattheo snorted.

"He doesn't know what Spider-Man is."

Theo shot him an unimpressed look.

"I do."

"No, you don't."

"I absolutely do."

"You literally just called him Spider-Boy."

Theo chose not to dignify that with a response.

You laughed so hard you had to cover your mouth.

"Wait..."

Your eyes widened.

"You seriously don't know Spider-Man?"

Theo remained silent.

"...Do you at least know Marvel?"

"...Marvel?"

You looked genuinely horrified.

"You don't know Marvel?"

Theo had the distinct feeling he'd somehow failed a test he hadn't realised he was taking.

"What exactly did you watch growing up?" you asked dramatically.

"Your parents should be arrested."

Theo blinked.

"...Arrested?"

"For depriving you of the greatest superhero franchise ever created."

"I..."

He glanced helplessly towards Lorenzo.

"...don't know what that means."

"Oh, wow."

You pressed a hand to your chest as though personally wounded.

"Okay."

You thought for a moment before reaching into your pocket.

"I work at a comic book shop after this shift."

Theo frowned.

"...A what?"

"A comic shop."

You paused.

"...Actually, explaining it won't help."

Pulling out a receipt, you scribbled an address on the back before handing it to him.

"Come by later."

Theo looked down at the paper.

"I'll educate you."

He looked back at you.

"You don't even know me."

You shrugged.

"I know enough."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You've somehow survived seventeen years without Marvel."

A grin spread across your face.

"That's a problem I can fix."

Someone called your name from behind the concession stand.

You glanced over your shoulder.

"Coming!"

Looking back at Theo, you smiled apologetically.

"Sorry-I have to get back to work."

You started walking away before turning around again.

"Oh!"

"And bring money."

Then you disappeared behind the counter.

Theo stared after you for a moment before carefully folding the receipt and slipping it into his jacket pocket.

Mattheo noticed immediately.

"...You're actually thinking about going?"

Theo looked at him.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You spent the entire walk here complaining about this film."

"I was complaining about the premise."

"And now?"

Theo glanced towards the counter where you'd vanished.

"...Now it seems educational."

Mattheo barked out a laugh.

"Oh, Merlin."

"You fancy her."

Theo frowned.

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I simply wish to understand this... Marvel."

"Sure."

Mattheo grinned.

"And I'm Head Boy."

Theo ignored him and turned towards Lorenzo, who had finally returned carrying an absurdly large bucket of popcorn.

"I need you to come somewhere with me after the film."

Lorenzo looked up.

"...Why?"

Theo hesitated for half a second.

"You know more about... Marvel."

A slow grin spread across Lorenzo's face.

"...Oh."

Theo narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

The grin only grew wider.

"You just happen to need me because I know about superheroes."

"I need someone capable of explaining them."

"Mhm."

"And," Theo added reluctantly, "you have Muggle money."

"Mhm."

Mattheo doubled over laughing.

"Nott, you're unbelievable."

Theo looked genuinely offended.

"I don't get what's so funny"

"You've spoken to one girl for five minutes and suddenly you're voluntarily visiting a comic book shop."

Theo folded his arms.

"It is an educational trip."

"It is absolutely not."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time the film ended, Theo was already halfway to the exit.

He barely waited for the credits to finish before unfolding the receipt from his jacket pocket.

Mattheo noticed immediately.

"Someone's eager."

"I merely said we'd go."

"You also stood up before the post-credit scene."

Theo frowned.

"...The what?"

Lorenzo gasped in horror.

"You left before the post-credit scene?"

"I've never watched a Marvel film before. How was I supposed to know there was another scene?"

Lorenzo sighed dramatically.

"I've failed you already."

Theo ignored him and continued walking.

A few streets later, a small shop came into view.

The display window was packed with colourful comics, superhero figurines, posters and memorabilia. Every inch seemed covered in bright reds, blues and golds.

Nothing like Flourish and Blotts.

A little bell chimed as they stepped inside.

Theo's eyes wandered across the shelves.

Hundreds of books.

Not one looked ancient.

No leather bindings.

No gilded pages.

No magical ink.

Just impossibly colourful covers filled with people flying through the sky.

"Welcome in!"

Theo looked up.

You were standing behind the till, your hair now tied into two messy space buns. Gone was the red cinema uniform. Instead, you wore a faded black T-shirt with what looked like an angry raccoon holding a gun beside an oddly cheerful tree.

The shirt somehow suited you.

The moment your eyes landed on him, your face lit up.

"You actually came!"

"I said I would."

"I honestly thought you were just being polite."

Before Theo could answer, you hurried around the counter.

"You've got excellent timing. It's completely dead in here."

Your eyes shifted to Lorenzo.

Then back to Theo.

"...Is he your emotional support friend?"

Lorenzo laughed.

"No."

Theo looked offended.

"He came because he knows more about Marvel than I do."

"I was dragged."

"I distinctly remember asking."

"You guilt-tripped me."

"I did not."

You waved a dismissive hand.

"Whatever the reason, you're both here."

You clapped your hands together.

"Right."

"Lesson one."

Without warning, you caught Theo's wrist.

"This way."

Theo stiffened almost imperceptibly.

He wasn't accustomed to people touching him so casually.

Especially not people he'd known for less than a day.

Still...

He didn't pull away.

You led him towards an entire wall labelled MARVEL, finally stopping in front of rows upon rows of comics.

"So," you said, folding your arms, "rule number one."

"Don't start with the complicated stuff."

You reached up and pulled out a comic.

"Spider-Man."

Another.

"Iron Man."

Another.

"Captain America."

Another.

"And this one."

Theo looked down.

"That is..a lot"

You laughed.

"This?"

You gestured at the shelf.

"This is barely scratching the surface."

Your hand wandered towards another section.

"If you end up liking these, we'll move on to the Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy, X-Men, Fantastic Four-"

"We?"

You blinked innocently.

"Well, obviously."

Theo raised an eyebrow.

"Obviously?"

"You'll need someone to explain everything."

"And that someone is you?"

"Unless you happen to know another Marvel nerd."

"...I don't."

"Exactly."

Theo couldn't quite stop the tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I guess I'll have questions."

You beamed.

"Perfect."

Across the aisle, Lorenzo leaned towards Mattheo.

"He's smiling."

Mattheo looked over.

"...Merlin."

"He actually is."

"And I don't think he even realises it."

Back at the till, you carefully scanned each comic before placing them into a paper bag.

Sliding it across the counter, you smiled.

"When you're done, come back."

Theo picked up the bag.

"And if I don't enjoy them?"

You gasped as though he'd committed a crime.

"You'll enjoy them."

"And if I don't?"

"I'll assume you read them wrong."

Lorenzo snorted loudly.

"I like her."

Ignoring him entirely, you pointed a finger at Theo.

"I'm serious."

"When you finish Spider-Man, I expect a full review."

"A... review?"

"Opinions."

"Lots of opinions."

"You'll quickly discover comic fans never shut up."

Theo looked down at the bag before meeting your eyes again.

"I guess I can manage that."

"I know you can."

By the time Theo returned to Hogwarts that evening, the paper bag was tucked safely beneath his arm.

Mattheo looked over from his bed.

"You are actually going to read those?"

"They were a gift."

"They were homework."

Theo ignored him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Mate."

Mattheo threw a pillow over his face.

"It's one in the morning."

Theo turned another page.

"Hm."

"You've been reading for hours."

"So?"

"So sleep."

Theo didn't answer.

Truthfully...

He still wasn't entirely convinced by Marvel.

How exactly had a spider bite turned a scrawny teenager into a superhero?

And Captain America made even less sense.

One injection and suddenly the man had muscles?

Even Polyjuice Potion didn't work like that.

Still...

You had asked for his opinion.

He refused to disappoint you.

One chapter became another.

Then another.

Without quite noticing, he reached the final page.

"...Well," he murmured to himself.

"...That wasn't that bad."

Two weeks passed.

Theo read every comic twice.

He made mental notes of every question that came to mind.

He memorised character names, storylines and villains.

He even cornered Lorenzo on multiple occasions.

"Why does everyone like Tony Stark so much?"

"Because he's Tony Stark."

"That's hardly an explanation."

"It doesn't need one."

Theo was beginning to suspect Marvel fans were impossible.

Still...

He refused to return looking uninformed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The bell above the comic shop door chimed.

You looked up from organising a shelf.

"Theodore!"

A smile spread across your face.

"You're back!"

Today your T-shirt featured an enormous grape man wearing golden armour.

Theo decided not to ask.

Not yet.

You leaned across the counter excitedly.

"Well?"

"What did you think?"

"Are you obsessed yet?"

Theo took a measured breath.

"I have... a lot pf thoughts."

Your eyes widened.

"Oh, this is going to be good."

You hurried him towards a small table tucked into the corner of the shop.

"Sit."

He obeyed.

"So?"

You rested your chin in your hands.

"Tell me everything."

Theo began cautiously.

"I enjoyed Spider-Man. A lot"

"I knew it!"

"However..."

"Oh no."

"I don't get why everything thinks Captain America is so perfect."

You stared at him in mock horror.

"Steven Grant Rogers is practically husband material."

Theo frowned thoughtfully.

"...Husband material?"

"The best kind."

"And Tony Stark?"

"Hm."

You pretended to consider it.

"Sugar daddy material."

Theo blinked.

"...Sugar daddy?"

You burst into laughter.

"Exactly."

Theo couldn't help laughing with you.

He still wasn't entirely sure what it meant.

But hearing you laugh made him want to keep asking questions.

By the time you'd enthusiastically explained another dozen Marvel characters, you disappeared between the shelves before returning with yet another stack of comics.

Theo stared at them.

"...More?"

"Oh, we're just getting started."

He sighed dramatically.

"I've spent the last two weeks reading these."

"You survived."

"Barely."

"So dramatic."

He accepted the comics anyway.

Then paused.

"You asked something from me."

"I did."

"And now it's my turn."

You tilted your head curiously.

"Oh?"

Theo nodded towards the café across the street.

"They sell milkshakes."

You narrowed your eyes.

"...Are you asking me out?"

He met your gaze.

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whether you're saying yes."

A grin slowly spread across your face.

"You know..."

You folded your arms.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever ask."

Theo blinked.

"You were?"

"You've been looking at me like you wanted to for at least ten minutes."

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

He looked away for the briefest second.

"...Maybe once."

You laughed.

"Sure."

"So?"

Theo asked.

"Is that a yes?"

You pretended to think it over.

"Hmm..."

Then you smiled.

"Fine."

"Only because I like your accent."

Theo's answering smile came effortlessly.

"...Lucky me."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Weeks slipped quietly into months.

Somewhere between comic books, milkshakes, and endless debates over superheroes...

Theodore Nott fell in love.

It happened so gradually he never noticed the exact moment.

Maybe it was when he realised he could identify your footsteps before you reached the comic shop door.

Or when he started bringing enough chips because he knew you'd steal half of them despite insisting you weren't hungry.

Or perhaps it was the afternoon you spent nearly twenty minutes trying to rescue a pigeon that had become trapped behind a rubbish bin.

You hadn't succeeded.

But you'd tried anyway.

He'd found that strangely endearing.

He learned that you wore mismatched socks simply because you thought matching ones were "boring."

That you couldn't walk past a bookshop without wandering inside.

That you cried whenever an old dog appeared in a film.

That you somehow knew every song playing on the radio.

That you talked with your hands so enthusiastically he occasionally worried you'd accidentally hit someone in the face.

He always opened doors for you.

Always walked on the side closest to the road.

And no matter how many times you protested...

He never let you pay.

"Theodore."

"No."

"I literally have money."

"I know."

"So let me spend it."

"I don't want you to, cara."

"You are impossible."

"I've been told."

You'd roll your eyes.

Then smile anyway.

He learned your favourite milkshake was chocolate.

That you preferred rainy afternoons over sunny ones.

That you absent-mindedly reached for his hand whenever you crossed a busy road.

At first, holding your hand had made him acutely aware of every brush of your fingers.

Now...

It simply felt natural.

Like it had always belonged there.

The first time he kissed you, the two of you were sitting on a bench overlooking the Thames.

The sun had begun to dip below the skyline, painting the water in streaks of gold and amber.

You'd somehow spent the better part of three hours arguing over whether Superman could defeat Thor.

Theo was firmly convinced the debate had become absurd nearly an hour ago.

You, apparently, disagreed.

"No, listen," you insisted, gesturing wildly. "Thor's literally a god."

"And Superman can fly."

"So?"

"So flying is rather useful."

You laughed.

"I don't think that's how power scaling works."

Theo smiled to himself.

"You've said that phrase six times."

"Because you keep making terrible arguments."

"I believe mine are perfectly reasonable."

"They're objectively wrong."

He chuckled quietly.

The conversation drifted into comfortable silence.

You leaned back against the bench, watching the river.

After a few moments, you looked at him.

"What?"

Theo asked.

You smiled.

"I've turned you into a complete nerd."

"I think you'll find the correct term is well-informed."

"Oh?"

"You assigned me homework."

"I did."

"I just completed it."

You laughed again.

"I can't believe I accidentally converted Theodore Nott into a Marvel fan."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"You absolutely would."

He shook his head.

"I still think the serum is scientifically questionable."

"It's a comic book."

"That changes nothing."

You smiled so brightly it almost made him forget what he'd been saying.

"I like this version of you."

Theo's expression softened.

"So do I."

You blinked.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly, you reached up and rested your hand against his cheek.

"I'm really glad you walked into that cinema."

Theo smiled.

"I believe you walked into me."

"Details."

He laughed.

Then he kissed you.

It wasn't dramatic.

There were no fireworks.

No sweeping declarations.

Just a gentle, tentative kiss that somehow said everything neither of you quite knew how to put into words.

When he pulled away, you were still smiling.

"What?"

Theo asked.

"You smile differently around me."

He frowned.

"I smile?"

"You do."

"I wasn't aware."

"You get this little..." You pointed to the corner of your own mouth. "...smirk."

"I don't smirk."

"You absolutely do."

"I don't."

"You are literally smirking right now."

Theo let out another quiet laugh.

"I think you're imagining things."

"I'm not."

"You've been staring at me for the past five minutes."

"I'm admiring my boyfriend."

Theo paused.

"...My boyfriend?"

You smiled sheepishly.

"Mhm."

"You've never called me that before."

"I know."

"...Do you not like it?"

He intertwined your fingers with his.

"No."

"I quite like it."

As autumn settled over London, one question continued to resurface.

"So..."

"Hm?"

"What school do you actually go to?"

Theo sighed.

"We're doing this again?"

"You dodge the question every single time."

"I answer."

"You absolutely don't."

"I've told you."

"You tell me you go to Hogwarts."

"Because I do."

You burst into laughter.

"You are so committed to this joke."

Theo rubbed a hand across his face.

"It isn't a joke."

"Mhm."

"My homework genuinely consists of Potions essays."

"I'm sure it does."

"I play Quidditch."

"Naturally."

"Owls deliver my post."

"They're remarkably efficient."

You laughed so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes.

"Oh my God."

"You've expanded the lore."

"The... lore?"

"This whole wizard story."

Theo studied your face.

You looked so utterly convinced he was teasing you that he almost laughed himself.

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"No."

He sighed.

"I'm actually serious."

You smiled fondly.

"I like your stories, Theo."

Something in his chest sank.

He hated lying to you.

Even more, he hated that the truth sounded impossible.

The conversation lingered as the two of you wandered through the evening streets.

Shops were beginning to close.

Streetlights flickered to life overhead.

You were in the middle of telling him about a new comic series when-

A deafening crack split the air.

People screamed.

Theo looked up.

Time seemed to slow.

A section of scaffolding had broken loose from the building above.

It was falling.

Straight towards you.

You hadn't noticed.

You were still looking at him.

Theo didn't think.

His wand was in his hand before he even realised he'd drawn it.

"Protego!"

A shimmering barrier burst into existence.

The scaffolding slammed into it with a deafening crash.

For one impossible heartbeat, it hung suspended in the air.

Then it toppled harmlessly onto the pavement beside you.

Silence.

The screams faded.

People stared.

You slowly turned.

Not towards the wreckage.

Towards Theo.

His arm was still raised.

His wand still pointed forward.

Every trace of colour had drained from his face.

He lowered it slowly.

"...Theo?"

He closed his eyes.

For just a second.

"...I'm sorry."

Your gaze dropped to the wand.

Then to the shattered scaffolding.

Then back to him.

"...You're actually a wizard."

Theo gave the smallest nod.

"I told you."

You stared at him.

Then your eyes widened.

"MY BOYFRIEND IS REAL-LIFE DOCTOR STRANGE!"

Theo blinked.

"...That's your first thought?"

You pointed accusingly at him.

"You've been carrying around actual magic this whole time!"

"Yes."

"And you never thought to lead with that?"

"I did."

"...Fair point."

Theo let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"Merlin... I tell you I'm a wizard, and the first thing you think is Doctor Strange?"

"In my defence..."

You shrugged.

"...he's the only wizard I know."

Theo smiled-a small, fond smile that was reserved entirely for you.

"Well..."

He gently tugged you closer.

"Now you know two."

————————————————————————

Tag list - @pbjts @bunnieeegohop @mooniez @ithinkaboutyouuu @yourstargirlyyy

[folkloregirlfriend]

i leave my mark wherever i go (loose strands of hair)

[saradika-graphics]

— cutouts (gold/silver)

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

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[saradika-graphics]

— washi tape

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[redeemingvillains]

the one with the amortentia - mattheo riddle

she’s in her silly, soft drabble era ♡ just a little twist on the classic amortentia trope (1kish?)

— ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

“Alright, I’ll say it,” Draco started, breaking the relative silence amidst the group around the table at breakfast.

“I can’t do it anymore. I refuse to spend another morning choking on my pumpkin juice while the two of them…ogle each other like that. It’s deplorable,” he spluttered as he watched you and Mattheo walking out of the Great Hall, his arm around your shoulders, holding you tightly against him. He leaned into you and pressed a kiss into your hair.

They could hear you giggle softly.

Enzo gagged.

The boys didn’t hate love, far from it. But this? This was something else entirely. Because before you Mattheo was smug smirks and one night stands, careless hookups and relentless flirting. And now? Now he was heart eyes, soft kisses, intertwined hands and sweet whispers, nuzzling noses, pink roses, monogamous. And if that could happen to Mattheo? It could happen to any of them.

Terrifying.

Theo shook his head with his own look of disdain that slowly transformed into an irked confusion.

“It’s like he’s been drugged, like he’s on Amortentia.” He paused, a brief look of shock on his face. “Wait, you don’t think?…” He let the sentiment hang and looked around at his friends.

They all thought for a moment.

Then collectively shook their heads at the notion.

You weren’t that kind of girl. And if they were completely honest with themselves they didn’t blame Mattheo, though they’d never admit it. You were the kind of girl any of them would fall for, too sweet for your own good, with a beautiful smile and a kind heart. No, you didn’t need to drug anyone to make them fall for you.

“Can you imagine him on it, though?” Theo laughed. “I mean, what’s left? Would he stand on the table and serenade her?!”

“He’d probably propose,” Blaise said flatly.

“There would be tears involved—“ Enzo added.

“—Poems. Sonnets,” Draco snickered.

They laughed.

Then, a collective moment of silence ensued as they all imagined the utter humiliation of their lovesick friend. Slowly their thoughts permeated, and it was like small lightbulbs clicked on over each of their heads as they shared sly, mischievous smiles with one another.

— ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Two weeks later you slid into breakfast beside Mattheo, your thigh pressing against his, close enough to feel his radiating warmth, to be wrapped in his scent like vetiver and pine. He looked over to you and smiled so wide his eyes twinkled and a small dimple formed in each cheek.

“Good morning, YN!” Draco said eagerly, pulling you from the moment. You were taken aback at his unusually chipper energy.

“Hi, Draco,” you said, turning to smile across the table at him.

You looked around and realized all of the boys were smiling back at you, which was slightly confusing but ultimately a very welcome change; you knew your presence irked them, they were never subtle about it. So this felt… nice.

“Drink up, mate!” Blaise said, pushing a goblet towards Mattheo. “Got a big game this afternoon, don’t want you dehydrated.” Mattheo snorted but acquiesced, accepting the goblet and taking several gulps before you both busied yourselves with your breakfast.

In a moment you could feel Mattheo’s hand under the table gently squeezing your thigh and you looked over to see him smiling at you, his amber eyes twinkling and his mouth quirked in a perfect grin that you immediately mirrored.

“Hey, I love you,” he whispered and pressed a quick warm kiss to your lips. It lingered with heady pressure and your eyes fluttered closed before they opened again as he gently pulled away.

Theo and Draco were batting each other’s arms in anticipation.

Blaise was holding his breath.

But that was it.

One sincere statement. One chaste kiss. And then the morning continued in relative normality. Sure, you ogled each other, finished each other’s sentences, giggled at each other, blushed. The boys watched the two of you intently like a tennis match back and forth waiting for Mattheo’s impending implosion, his grand, drug-induced outburst. It never came.

“You fucking twat! You got a bad batch,” Theo whisper-yelled to Draco.

“Excuse me who couldn’t be bothered to go get it himself? I assure you it’s the best money can buy,” Draco rebutted.

“Clearly didn’t work…” Blaise muttered under his breath as the three of them continued to argue, each too busy bickering to notice Lorenzo sliding in beside Mattheo, half-asleep, mid-yawn reaching for the wrong goblet and taking a swig. Then another.

He felt his cheeks flush and set the goblet down very very slowly. He let out a deep breath. And then he calmly stood and sauntered down the table next to you, nearly pushing a third year off the bench to make space beside you.

He sat backwards, leaning against the table so he was facing you directly. Closely. Mattheo looked up briefly, clocking his movement.

“Hey,” Enzo said, smoothly running his hand through his hair, tousling it in the effortless way he liked to do to get attention.

“Hi Enzo,” you giggled.

“Fuck I love how my name sounds on your lips” he said, low and sultry.

“What?” You laughed again, your giggle a bit more unstable.

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” Mattheo echoed, the rising edge of his tone finally catching the others’ attention.

But Lorenzo only had eyes for you and your lips… his lidded eyes locked on them as he bit his own like he was indulgently imagining what you tasted like.

“You’re so fucking hot, YN. I’m crazy about you,” he said, breathless.

Mattheo was on his feet. “Berkshire you have two fucking seconds to back the fuck away from her before your face meets the table.”

You looked quickly between Enzo and Mattheo, trying to diffuse the situation.

And now Theo, Draco, and Blaise were paying attention for an entirely different reason.

Blaise reached for Mattheo’s goblet, confirming it was empty. “Enz,” he asked. “Did you drink this??”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”Mattheo snapped, his eyes never leaving Lorenzo whose eyes never left you. He couldn’t look away from you, his cheeks swirling pink with flustered desire. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you; you, you, you, your gorgeous hair, your delicious perfume, your laugh, your perfect laugh, your goddamn lips, all of you, right there in front of him this whole time. He had to have you. He reached for you.

And was yanked off his seat and flung to the floor.

“—No no no!!” Theo shouted.

“—Wait!!” Blaise yelled.

They tried to intercede, leaping over table.

“—You don’t fucking touch her!” Mattheo roared as he pinned Lorenzo down.

“Matty!!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet.

“I love her!!” Enzo shouted valiantly. “She’s everything to me, Riddle you’ll never understand the way I feel!”

Mattheo’s fist flew and Enzo let out a yell as he grabbed his face, blood gushing between his fingers.

“Say that shit again!” Mattheo dared, just as his friends managed to grab ahold of him, barely holding him back.

“ILUFFHER!” Enzo cried, the sentiment muffled in tears beneath his hands and his blood.

Mattheo tried to swing again.

“Mattheo!!” Theo shouted as they held him back. “He’s drugged! He’s on Amortentia!!”

Mattheo’s attention finally snapped to his friends. “What?!”

“We put it in your goblet” Blaise admitted quickly.

“Why the fuck?—“ Mattheo started.

“—Come on,” Draco said, pushing the group towards the door as he nervously eyed the nearby professors.

— ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

All of you sat side by side on a bench outside the infirmary.

Blaise was rubbing his temple.

Draco had his arms crossed as he pouted.

Theo looked down at his hands in his lap.

Mattheo flexed his split knuckle which was slowly mending itself as you held his other hand.

And on the far end of the bench, Lorenzo held a rag to his bleeding nose, staunching the blood there as the side effects of the Amortentia wore off, leaving him confused and very grumpy.

“What doesn’t make sense is that you drank it too, didn’t you?” you asked Mattheo quietly.

“Yeah, I mean I remember feeling warm in my chest, like I wanted to be near you and tell you how I felt,” he said.

A pause.

“Maybe that just means I can’t possibly love you more than I already do?” he concluded, glancing at you with a lopsided, lovesick smile.

Lorenzo gagged.

Draco sighed.

Theo groaned.

And Blaise ran his hands down his face as you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Mattheo’s lips with a satisfying smack.

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts @revesephemeres @midnights-with-him @mishtay @ccbear5000 @mooniez @rulosinquietos @yourstargirlyyy @ashgh-diary

[bubblegum-dummy]

Ouughh big stretc- *my spine completely shatters*

[lexamiele]

Long Way Home

Blaise Zabini x reader

Word count: approx. 4k

Summary: there aren’t enough seats on the hockey bus, so you end up sharing. Hockey player!Blaise x sports photographer!reader

Warnings/be aware: fem!reader, literally just tooth-rotting fluff, Blaise is so soft for reader, so much hockey slang.

A/N: thank you guys for baring with me while I literally scrapped a whole other story and wrote this one instead! I hope it was worth it. An extremely delayed submission for @i-await Blaise’s Banquet.

The energy on the hockey bus was electric as you climbed aboard, the purple LED lights that lined the interior adding a transcendental ambience to the crowded vehicle. You were grinning ear-to-ear as you walked down the aisle with your DLSR camera clutched in your hands. Around you, players and coaches reviewed the game excitedly, discussing their favorite goals and saves. Shifting your camera to your left hand so that you could pull out your phone with your right, you opened the team’s Instagram and selected the option to start a new story. As you held down the ‘record’ button, you filmed the raucous, invigorating scene around you.

“...and then Zab with the OT clapper!” 

Mattheo Riddle, the team’s starting right defenseman, was having such a loud conversation with his blue-line partner, Theodore Nott, over the back of his seat that his voice somehow defeated the clamber around him. Several of his teammates turned eagerly at the shout.

“Zab with the OT clapper!” Lorenzo Berkshire repeated, pointing at his fellow winger next to him. The bus exploded in a thundering cheer for the man of the hour, Blaise Zabini, who’d won the night’s away game for your university with an unbelievable overtime shot. 

“Top shelf!”

The noise was overwhelming, and you nearly pitied the opposing team as they filed out of the nearby rink’s entrance, but the feeling was quickly forgotten as you turned back to Blaise. He’d already been awarded a comically large plastic wrestling championship belt in the locker room for his efforts, and he was now laughing as he held the belt in his hand.

You ended the video as the cheering transformed into incoherent yelling and the occasional howl from one of the rookies, grinning at the team’s antics. Selecting the option to add text to the story, you typed, “Lots of love for number 7 on the bus tonight.”

Biting back a nervous grin, your stomach flip-flopped subtly at the sight of Blaise’s laugh replaying on your phone. You paused, taking a moment to push the thought aside before pressing the button at the bottom of the screen to post the story. 

When you glanced up, you realized that Blaise had stood from his seat, the plastic belt laid across the armrests. Your smile widened when you realized he was starting a speech. Crouching down into the aisle, you ensured that all his teammates and coaches could see.

“...thanks, boys.” He flashed a little smirk that made his teammates chuckle and your chest flutter dangerously before continuing. “But I want to acknowledge that this game was an incredible team effort! We showed up tonight, we played from end to end, we beat the number one team in the league because we are undefeated!”

The bus erupted into another wave of deafening cheers, applause, and whistles that set the floor vibrating underneath your feet and made your lips crack with a grin. There truly was nothing like the spirit of this team, your team – although you didn’t play, they’d claimed you long ago. Nights like these, with an away game won, spirits soaring, and a long drive back to your home campus ahead of you, were your absolute favorite. 

“Let’s hear it for your captain, Malfoy!” Blaise’s speech reached a fevered pitch as he yanked the blond boy from the seat he’d taken across from Blaise and Enzo. “Absolute beauty.” Despite looking slightly jostled, Malfoy grinned as his teammates cheered for him, offering the boys a wave like a movie star greeting a crowd of supporters. You giggled, setting your phone down on your knee and letting your camera hang around your neck so you could applaud. “Your tendy, Flint, with thirty-seven saves!” 

“Woohoo!” You let out a cheer that was easily drowned out by the clamber of the bus as the team cheered Flint’s best performance of the season.

“Berky, with the hatty!” Blaise’s speech continued on as he shouted out the impressive performances of the night to raucous applause, from goals to puck blocks to Riddle’s five-minute fighting major after he’d dropped the gloves with a rival defenseman who’d cross-checked a rookie in the head minutes before.

Of all the jobs you’d had since high school, this one was by far your favorite. During your freshman year of college, you’d received a mass email that the university’s D1 hockey team was looking for a photographer and social media manager, and with the thought that you had nothing to lose, you’d submitted your portfolio on the application portal. You’d scarcely believed your eyes when, a few weeks later, you’d received another email from the team’s head coach, informing you that you’d been selected. 

Initially, you’d been intimidated beyond belief. You were surrounded by future NHL prospects, after all. Your hands had shaken so badly during your first practice that nearly all the video you’d taken was unwatchable. But the boys had warmed up to you quickly, putting your worries at ease. By the end of the season, you were invited to team dinners and parties, basically an honorary member of the team. Three years into your favorite gig and you were inseparable from the hockey players.

“...and our photographer, who shows out, every. Single. Game!” 

Your eyes widened as the gazes of the players and coaches suddenly trained on the space where you were crouched on the floor. Chuckling, Blaise reached his hand out to you and you took it, standing up with a sheepish grin as the team roared, applause and loud whistles echoing across the bus. You tucked your phone back into your pocket and stepped closer to Blaise, who immediately slung his arm around you. Nervous giggles slipped from your lips, your cheeks feeling fiery. 

“Guys!” you protested, but Blaise shook his head, pulling you in closer to his chest.

“Half of you owe your profile pics to this one, don’t lie.” He nodded towards you and you laughed, knowing just how many of the boys around you had one of your hockey action shots as their Instagram profile picture. “You can thank her for all those DM’s, yeah?” You rolled your eyes at that, smacking him lightly in the chest. But as you looked up at him, you saw him beaming down at you, and for a split second you forgot how to breathe.

As quickly as it began, it was over. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Grinning, Blaise released you and pointed up towards the front of the bus, where the bus driver chuckled back at him through the rear-view mirror. The team gave one last cheer as he tossed the plastic belt in the carry-on compartment above his head and sat back down in his seat. Then, the bus driver revved the engine and the vehicle grumbled to life.

After placing your camera in its case and setting it above with the carry-on bags, you glanced around and realized you’d committed a considerable oversight. In all the commotion as the team had boarded the bus after the win, you’d been so busy doing your job and filming content that you’d forgotten to find yourself a seat. Most of the athletics buses were huge – typically, there were far more seats than there were passengers on the bus, but as you looked around, there looked to be none available.

“Am I going crazy, or is this bus smaller than usual?” You tossed a worried glance at Draco, figuring he would know the answer. As the bus lurched forward, you stumbled, grabbing the edge of Blaise’s seat for support. 

Draco shook his head. “One of the athletics buses broke down this morning, and apparently everyone and their mother had an away game tonight. The small ones were all they had left.” He rolled his eyes, an expression of deep annoyance crossing his face. 

“What’re you so mad about?” Theo Nott scoffed in Draco’s direction, jutting his thumb at you. “She’s the one without a place to sit.”

“How were there enough seats for everyone on the way here but not on the way back?” You frowned in confusion.

Nott jerked his head toward the front of the vehicle. “Pucey rode here with his parents, but he’s coming back on the bus.”

You shrugged, letting out a wry laugh. “Guess I’m taking the aisle, then.” 

“No way.” Blaise’s objection was immediate as he shook his head. “C’mon, Berky and I’ll pack it in.” He threw back the armrests cordoning off his seat from Enzo’s and began to move away from the aisle and towards the window, nodding for his seatmate to do the same.

“Uhh…” Enzo glanced over at you and then down at his and Blaise’s seats, where there was clearly little more room to be found. “Yeah, sure.” Scooting down as best he could, he managed to create approximately two more inches of room before being squished between his linemate and the window.

You eyed the sliver of seat by the aisle they’d managed to empty. If you really, really tried, you might’ve been able to fit a quarter of your left thigh in the available space. Hockey players weren’t generally small humans, and there was no way they were going to be able to fit two of them and one photographer in a space meant for two people. “Guys, it’s really fine.” You weren’t overly fond of the idea of riding home cross-legged in the aisle, but as long as the driver didn’t hit too many sharp turns, you were sure you would be alright.

“C’mere.” Blaise patted his thigh, nodding towards you. “Just sit on me, then.”

You could’ve sworn the entire bus heard the breath that got stuck in your throat. Swallowing it thickly, you gave your head a little shake as you tried to ignore the way that your heart seemed suddenly determined to run away in your chest. “I – what?”

He shrugged, shooting you an easy grin. “It’s fine, just sit here.”

“I’m a whole person, I’m heavy! I can’t just sit on you for a couple hours.”

“What, you think I’ve been slacking in the weight room?” He let out a little scoff, and he would’ve looked almost offended if not for the playful glint in his dark eyes. “Sit.”

Finally, you relented, shaking your head and trying your best to look exasperated despite the fluttery feeling in your ribs. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you let him pull you into his chest, settling you across his huge thighs. As strong as he looked on the ice, he felt even stronger beneath you, your skin tingling where you felt his muscles tense and flex against you. He smelled ridiculously good, the scent of his expensive musky cologne enveloping you. You hoped with every fiber of your being that he couldn’t feel the embarrassingly loud pounding of your heartbeat as you sat against him.

“Comfy?”

You could feel the way his voice vibrated through his chest, surrounding you and seeping through your skin. It was an agonizing bliss, as was the little smirk he flashed your way, telling you that he knew he was teasing you.

“Yeah, I’m good.” The words were rushed, shoved from your mouth before your voice had the chance to waver.

When exactly you’d caught feelings for Blaise, you weren’t certain. Maybe it was during that first practice, when you’d filmed all of the boys answering a question as they exited the locker room and he’d given you a great sound byte with a handsome grin before winking and welcoming you to the team. Or maybe it was after the team had won the championship during your freshman year and he’d declared you their good-luck charm, insisting that you hold the enormous trophy and snatching your DSLR camera to take a picture. Perhaps it was piece by piece, day by day, your crush taking shape with every little pre-practice hug, every arm offered to help you across the ice when you needed to film from the opposite side of the rink, every wink and grin and touch. All you knew was that one day at the start of last season, your feelings had hit you like a train, and ever since that day, you couldn’t think straight or even breathe properly in the presence of one Blaise Zabini. 

He was your friend, just like any of the hockey guys. You were basically one of his teammates. But there were times when you wondered whether the two of you might be dancing on the edge of something more, glancing into the deep end and wondering whether you ought to jump in. You knew you shouldn’t make assumptions – all the hockey boys were flirts. It was probably just wishful thinking. Still, every time he wrapped his arms around you or complimented your photos after a game, you couldn’t help but get your hopes up. You were only human.

Trying to distract yourself, you leaned forward, trying to engage in whatever frenetic conversation Theo and Draco were having.

“...the Leafs are not going all the way this year!” Theo gave the bottom of his seat a frustrated smack. “You all wasted Marner, you’re wasting Matthews and Nylander, I’ll bet you miss the playoffs.”

“That’s rich, coming from the Oilers fan,” Draco scoffed. “McDavid’s walking the second he’s a free agent.”

You rolled your eyes, having heard this argument a million times before. “Canes are winning the cup,” you replied, your tone almost bored. “Anderson’s unreal, Slavin’s a wagon, they’ve got Aho, Ehlers, they’re getting a good season out of Taylor Hall…you can’t change my mind.” 

The boys glanced at each other, then glanced at you, wordless. Draco frowned, his mouth opening and closing a few times in futility. 

“That’s a good take,” Enzo finally said, breaking the silence with an emphatic nod. “That’s a really good take. Nice one.” He held his fist out for a bump and you obliged, laughing.

Glancing back at Draco and Theo, you shrugged your shoulders. “Your teams both suck.” You crinkled your nose playfully, keeping your gaze forward though you could practically feel Blaise’s eyes boring into the back of your head. Turning, you finally acknowledged him. “Sorry, Leafs fan.”

He raised his eyebrows, the intensity in his gaze sending a flurry of tingles across your skin. “Really?”

You turned around more fully to look at him, your weight resting on his right thigh as you moved in his grip. Shrugging, you widened your eyes in false innocence. “What? I’m just telling it like it is.”

Looking you up and down, he let out an incredulous little laugh. “You should keep in mind where you’re sitting before you go telling it like it is.”

The thing about your crush on Blaise was that you somehow couldn’t resist the urge to dig yourself in even deeper, even though you should’ve been trying to dig yourself out.

As you crossed your arms, you raised your own eyebrows. “What are you gonna do about it? Drop me?”

The edge of Blaise’s grin twitched, his nose scrunching playfully. “Nah.”

His strong arms were suddenly around you, pulling you all the way into his chest. You let out a little shriek of surprise, but then you felt the worst part – fingers digging into your sides, sending ticklish sparks through your stomach as a full-on scream slipped past your lips. Thankfully the bus was so loud that most people didn’t even turn around, but your cheeks burned as an unrelenting fountain of giggles poured from your lips thanks to Blaise’s torment.

“Blaise! Please!” You twisted and squirmed in his grip, but he was way too strong, and you could feel him smirking into your shoulder as his fingers teased your skin. “Pleaseee!”

“Who’s the best team in the league?” His voice lilted teasingly.

“The Leafs! The Leafs! I’m sorryyyy!” Finally, he relented, leaving you giggling and breathless in his arms.

“You heard it here first, boys. She’s a Leafs fan.”

Draco nodded astutely, glancing at you where you sat slumped against Blaise’s chest. “It’s for your own good.”

“No it is not,” you protested with a huff, sitting up. “And that was a sentiment provided under duress.” Turning, you crossed your arms as you pouted in Blaise’s direction. “You’re mean.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave a low chuckle as he circled his arms around your waist. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You didn’t – you stayed perched on his thigh as Mattheo passed back a fifth of Fireball and everyone drank, fueling the loud conversations and card games spawning throughout the bus. With the help of the alcohol, your muscles lost their tension. You relaxed back into Blaise’s arms, occasionally piping up to contribute to the heated hockey debates and chaotic partying stories. 

“I can barely drink this garbage anymore,” Theo groaned as he took another swig of the liquor. “Not after that post-'ship barn-burner our rookie year.”

“Wasn’t that the night you fell out the window of our Uber?” Blaise chimed in. Your eyes widened as you let out a giggle.

“Yes,” Theo groaned, looking as though he regretted bringing it up.

“Got his bell rung and he wasn’t even on the ice.” Mattheo’s face popped up in between Theo and Draco as he turned around in his seat, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“Wait, pause, I have so many questions.” You held up one finger in Theo’s direction. “Please tell me the car wasn’t moving.”

“Nearly parked.” Theo winced.

“Nearly?” 

“The back wheel only hit him a little.” Mattheo scrunched his nose, holding his thumb and forefinger slightly apart.

Shaking your head, you grinned. “That explains a lot.”

You felt the rumble of Blaise’s stifled laughter in his chest as Theo narrowed his eyes in your direction.

Enzo chuckled, nodding towards you. “You know, I always forget you weren’t around that night. Seems like you’ve been hanging out with us forever.”

“Didn’t think I was quite ready for a night out with you guys yet,” you mused. “I suppose I was right if Theo was falling out of car windows.”

“You sure came out after the next ‘ship, though.” Mattheo cracked an enormous grin as you groaned.

“Don’t even remind me!” You clamped your hands firmly over your face, shaking your head. “Never again. I can’t even think of gin without gagging.”

“Remind you of what?” Draco chimed in. “The drinking contest with Riddle? The arm-wrestling competition with the bouncer?” You aimed a swift kick at his shins and he dodged it, smirking. “Dancing on that table in the middle of the bar?”

“You’re the worst.”

“Zab carrying you home?”

You froze abruptly, your hands dropping from your face. Staring at Draco, you furrowed your brows in bewilderment. “Wait, what?”

Draco let out a low chuckle, a half-smile on his lips. “You don’t remember?”

Shaking your head, you thought back to that night. You remembered stumbling in the heels you’d foolishly worn as you walked back towards campus, but nothing after that. Shifting, you turned towards Blaise. 

“What happened?”

He exhaled softly, a little smile tugging at his lips. “It was no big deal. You were wearing those huge heels and you tripped, I didn’t want you to hurt yourself walking back.”

“He was hysterical,” Theo added dryly.

“He yelled at me in the middle of the street for letting you drink so much,” Mattheo drawled.

“Blaise!” You let out an incredulous little laugh. “It was my own stupid fault for drinking so much. You shouldn’t have yelled at Mattheo.”

“See?” Mattheo gestured so intensely in your direction that Draco was forced to duck. Blaise scoffed before turning back to you.

“You cut yourself when you fell,” he added. “I just brought you back to your dorm, helped you clean up your knees, and made sure you weren’t gonna be sick. ‘S all.”

“The dishes in the kitchen…” you trailed off, remembering the soapy dishes you’d woken up to in your sink the next morning. You’d always figured you’d cooked yourself a meal in your blacked-out state, wondering at how you’d managed to avoid burning the whole building down. “Did you cook for me?”

A low, breathy laugh slipped past his lips as he gave you that little smile that could melt you in an instant. He shrugged. “You said you really wanted mac n’ cheese.”

Your lips parted but you couldn’t find words, your heart fluttering in your chest with such intensity that you knew Blaise could hear it. But if he could, he didn’t mention it, instead gazing at you with that impossibly soft smile.

“Zab, you’re such a simp, it’s unreal.”

Mattheo’s voice provided a profoundly unwelcome snap back to reality, his smug grin hovering over the back of Theo’s seat like the Cheshire cat.

Before you could respond, you heard Blaise scoff, his muscles tensing beneath you. “I’ll show you a simp, Riddle.” You watched as his eyes narrowed in his teammate’s direction and his lip curled. “I’ll put you through the glass at practice tomorrow, you hear me?”

Despite the former’s love for a good fight, you could tell Mattheo had no desire to go toe-to-toe with Blaise as his eyes widened. “Heard.” He disappeared back into the group of seats ahead of you.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the memory of the defenseman’s alarmed expression as you turned back to Blaise. “Could you really do that?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “I wouldn’t,” he clarified, nodding in Mattheo’s direction. “But don’t tell him that.”

As the bus continued to cut through the pitch-black mountain roads, a sliver of the moon shining down on its passengers, the effects of the alcohol began to wane and the inside of the vehicle grew quiet. Players began to put in headphones, snack, or close their eyes, the remaining conversations growing hushed. Enzo soon fell asleep as Draco read and Theo stared out the window, leaving you and Blaise the only ones softly whispering to each other. 

You were completely cuddled up to him, sitting on his thigh with your knees pulled up to the seat, your head resting against his chest. His calloused fingers absentmindedly trailed across your ankle, his other hand wrapped around your waist. Your gaze was trained on the screen of your phone as you clipped the video footage you’d captured of the game, hoping to have a few posts ready for the team’s TikTok account by the end of the bus ride.

“Wow,” Blaise murmured, his eyes drifting down to your screen as you put the finishing touches on the clip of his game-winning goal. “You’re amazing at this, you know.”

You felt your cheeks growing warm, an irresistible grin tugging at your lips. “Says you, Mister OT-game-winner.” Giving him a gentle nudge in the ribs with your elbow, you giggled. “With goals like that, the posts make themselves.”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “There’s no way I could make that look like that.”

It was technically true – you’d added slow-motion and reverberation effects so the viewer could see every moment of the goal, every last second of buildup until he released the shot and the puck fired into the net. Still, you shrugged, a little smile on your face. 

“Just a little editing.”

He laughed, the low sound a whisper in the night. “Whatever you say.”

You finished another video before abandoning your work, turning off your phone and gazing out the window to let your eyes rest. The feeling of Blaise’s fingers trailing across your skin and the delicious smell of his cologne lulled you into a state of relaxation, your nerves slipping away entirely. 

Only time would tell what this night meant, but you didn’t want to worry about that yet. You felt nothing but safety, allowing your breathing to fall in time with his and your eyes to flutter closed as his fingers began to twine in the ends of your hair. Blaise had taken care of you before and he’d take care of you now. As you finally rested, you knew this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

Credits: images ltr: Pinterest by seapiscean here, Pinterest by rosegoldenhoney here, Pinterest by ggs_library here | divider by @saradika-graphics here

[redeemingvillains]

🗣️🗣️🗣️ THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE IS HOW YOU WRITE ACTUAL HOCKEY FANFICTION!!!! i expected nothing less from you lexi but i am soaring!!!!!!!!!!!! gawd am i exhausted of reading about hockey from people who don’t know what they’re talking about. you are god’s gift to this fandom. you captured the boys, the lingo, the vibes perfectly 🤌🏼

nobody talk to me until you’ve read this ✋🏼

PS: kindly begging for more??? a series??? 👀👀

[lexamiele]

Veeeee 😭🥰 you’re the sweetest ever, thank you!! The vibes on the hockey bus are truly impeccable and I had to put in the work to do them justice. So happy to have your endorsement as a fellow hockey girlie 🫶

(A series may be in order 🤭)

[lexamiele]

hockey blaise hockey blaise hockey blaise hockey ENZOOOO aka BERKYYYY don’t even get me started 🫨 hockey mattheo hockey mattheo gahhhhhhhh

I don’t think we’ve seen the last of SB hockey au 🤭 super excited to keep working on this!!

[lexamiele]

For the "no more tears" , could you do a part 2 where instead of waiting for Blaise in the common room and thinking of how her year could've been better by not hating Slytherins, she feels like she doesn't deserve the kindness and leaves the common room before Blaise comes back and he sort of panic-hunts her down

(you don't have to but I LOVED the fic and I kinda wanted this type of an outcome too. PLS & TY & TY FOR THE OG FIC)

- 🥮💛 (my first ask but I wanted an emoji)

Hi!! Thank you for the request angel 💌 I ended up not going in this direction for NMT2 since I had more inspiration for Blaise and reader’s relationship/dating after the events of NMT. However this is one of those fics that i think will stay on my mind for a while, so I may write something like this in the future!

If you’re still interested in reading pt 2 it’s here 🫶

[lexamiele]

pleaseeee part 2 for no more tears i beggg

Here she is 🤭

[lexamiele]

Begin Again

Blaise Zabini x Reader

Word count: approx. 4.6k

Summary: your ex’s worst enemy also happens to be your new boyfriend. When your ex catches the two of you together, secrets are revealed and true feelings confessed.

Contains: Ravenclaw!reader, fem!reader, broom cupboard snog, mentions of reader being cheated on (not by Blaise), protective Blaise, fluff!!

A/N: this is part 2 of No More Tears and an exceedingly late submission to @i-await Blaise’s Banquet. If you haven’t read NMT I highly recommend reading that first here!

The grounds of Hogwarts castle were foggy that night, grass thick with the remnants of the spring storm that had torn through the mountains. Your steps found the lingering raindrops in the ground, your shoes moistening as you crept across the lawn. Thick mist concealed the stars from view and blinded you to the castle until you were nearly upon it, twinkling lights finally appearing in the air from the towers' windows like fireflies. Trees loomed in the distance like shadowy ghosts, the coolness brought in by the rain hanging in the air and sending goosebumps rushing up your arms. In the distance, an owl called into the night.

Though the scene was eerie, you weren't afraid. In fact, a huge grin was blooming across your face despite the fact that you were soaking wet and a bit chilly. Next to you, Blaise looked just as happy, a distinct sparkle in your boyfriend's dark eyes. Your hand was enveloped in his and he was laughing softly at something you'd said as the two of you slipped in through the clock-tower courtyard, your footsteps echoing off the damp stone. He guided you through the mist-laden darkness and towards the castle's exterior door, which he unlocked with a quick wave of his wand and a whispered spell. Carefully, you pushed the dense wooden door open, leaning your body weight against it until it finally yielded to your force with a great creak. A chill hit your spine and a nervous giggle flickered across your lips as you stepped into the darkened castle.

Behind you, Blaise guided the door closed, returning it to its resting place with a soft thud and a click of the lock. As he worked, you glanced around, intrigued by the silence that had fallen over the school. Each of your footsteps echoed softly against the stone without the chatter of fellow students or the swishing of robes in the distance to conceal the sound. In the darkness, the torches mounted to the walls flickered, casting inconsistent light across your boyfriend’s face as he returned to your side.

"I've never seen it like this before," you murmured, your wide eyes taking in the sight of the castle in its current state of vacancy.

"You've never been out of bed past curfew before?" His voice was low and amused, the ghostly touch of his breath sending little tingles up your neck. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back against his firm chest.

You shook your head. "Never." A breath of a laugh slipped past your lips as you turned your head to look back at him. "I used to be very well-behaved, I'll have you know."

"What a shame." His lips twitched with amusement, a shadow of mischief falling over his gaze. "I've ruined you."

"And spoiled me," you added with a playful grin, thinking of the dozen packages that were waiting for you up in your dormitory, brought by the delivery owls of the various shops you and Blaise had visited in London that day.

A low whisper tickled your ear. "What am I going to do with you?"

The timbre of his voice made something burn low in your stomach. Your breath caught in your throat as his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of your earlobe before his lips grazed your neck.

"Blaise —"

"Shh." A little smirk spread across his lips as he interrupted your whine, his whisper teasing in your ear. "Don't want to get us caught, now, do you?"

With that he slipped past you, pausing to allow you to slip your hand in his before he continued into the castle and towards a vast corridor in the distance. You let out a little huff of protest as your free hand wrapped around his bicep, the desire radiating through your body suddenly put on pause as you were rushed into the shadows. Glancing up at him, your nose crinkled.

"Unfair."

A low laugh rumbled in his throat as he illuminated his wand. "Poor baby."

"You're mean." You shot a pout in his direction, your brows furrowing.

Meeting your gaze with a knowing one of his own, he raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That's not what you said this afternoon."

Recalling the way you'd cuddled up to him on the London Eye, telling him about how perfect your day together had been, you sighed dramatically. "Fine. You're kinda the best boyfriend ever."

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "That's my girl."

You'd been dating Blaise for the past three months, and in that time, he'd done nothing but prove that he was your dream man. When he took you out on dates he loved to spoil you, whether it was with his money, his attention, or both. That day, the two of you had snuck aboard the Knight Bus in Hogsmeade and ridden it to London, where you'd visited a gorgeous French restaurant, at least fifteen shops, and wandered around the city in between. It really was a perfect date, not just because of the luxury but because you'd gotten to hear Blaise's stories of visiting the city with his mum when he was a kid. You'd felt so close to him, your heart swelling with warmth when he spoke.

You opened your mouth, but quickly closed it again when you saw that the two of you were coming to a row of portraits in the corridor. Most of them snored softly in the darkness, but a few sets of curious eyes trailed after you as you and Blaise crossed the hall. One wistful, airy voice murmured about young love in the distance. Another, measurably crankier one snapped at kids these days. Despite yourself, you giggled, your eyes flicking up toward Blaise, who shook his head with a bemused grin.

“Put that light out!”

You inhaled sharply, nearly jumping out of your skin and leaping back into Blaise’s chest as your gaze snapped in every direction, searching for the source of the noise. When you finally spotted a cantankerous portrait in a sleeping cap glaring at your boyfriend’s wand light, you exhaled in relief, though your heart was still racing. 

Blaise’s strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. “Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Holding you to his chest, he squeezed your shoulder gently as you attempted to regain your normal breathing pattern.

“Are you deaf? Put that light out!”

Rolling his eyes, Blaise lowered his wand, murmuring nox under his breath. “C’mon, let’s go this way.” He pointed towards a turn in the corridor and the two of you hurried on, leaving the cranky portrait behind.

You found yourself on a walkway above the Grand Stairs, looking down on the ordinarily crowded passageway. Here, the portraits slept — if any of them were still awake, you wouldn't know it, with Blaise's wand light now extinguished. The only light to guide your footsteps now belonged to the castle's torches, flickering flames and shadows stretching up the vast walls towards the ceiling high above you. Again, the fragile silence returned. The soft breathing of the sleeping portraits and your footfalls against the stone served as the only noises within the expansive stairwell.

"Alright?" Raising an eyebrow, he glanced down at you. There was a degree of amusement in his gaze but an element of care too, a gentleness behind his eyes that soothed the last hints of tension in your muscles.

"Yeah." You nodded, your voice a whisper as you rested your head against his shoulder for a moment. He smoothed your hair before giving your hand a gentle tug, beckoning you forward.

The two of you crept across the walkway, cautious of creaks that would wake the portraits, before beginning your trek up the moving staircases. You were getting closer to Ravenclaw Tower now, where Blaise would drop you off. A satisfied little grin crept across your lips at the thought that the two of you had successfully snuck out without getting caught. Even at the start of this school year, you would've never pictured yourself doing such a thing. But now you had, and it had been fun. By yourself, you would've been nervous, but with Blaise by your side, you felt invincible.

You both leapt from the landing to a connecting staircase as it began to shift, your hands intertwined. Giggling softly at the rush of adrenaline you felt in your stomach, you climbed the stairs. With a glance, you calculated the route you would need to take to end up in Ravenclaw tower. You turned carefully. Crossing a landing and continuing up the stairs, you wound up several flights.

But as the stairwell on which you stood began to slow its movement, connecting to a landing that would lead you to the Defense tower, you froze. Next to you, you could feel Blaise do the same. In the darkness, staring back at you, sat laser-focused yellow eyes.

Mrs. Norris.

"Students out of bed!" The strained, haggard shout came a mere moment later. It was Filch. You'd know the voice anywhere. "Students out of bed!"

"Run." Blaise's voice was filled with urgency. Rushing onto the landing, the two of you hurried past Mrs. Norris and into the Defense corridor. "Come on, this way!"

Your hands remained clasped as you staggered forward with thundering footsteps, no longer caring about disturbing the portraits that lined the corridors as you raced into the twisting guts of the castle. Behind you, you could hear the cries of Mrs. Norris and the clanging tremor of Filch's lantern as he stumbled after you. He was getting closer. Urgency seized you as you ducked into low-ceilinged halls and let Blaise lead you through passageways you'd never seen, feeling as though you were receiving a terrifyingly high-stakes tour of the castle.

"Students out of bed!" an ancient portrait of Mortimer the Malaised cried, and you resisted the urge to shout something very rude indeed back in the portrait's direction.

"Here!" Blaise hissed before guiding you hastily down a hall that you'd never even noticed before. Inside stood a puzzlingly large suit of armor on one side and a nondescript door on the other. Yanking the door open, he allowed you to scramble inside before stepping in himself and closing it silently behind him.

The two of you stood rigidly still in the closet, your eyes squeezed shut and his arms wrapped around you, clutching you to his chest as the clanging and uneven footsteps grew closer. You let out a breath of relief when Mortimer the Malaised insisted that he didn't know which way the two of you had gone, grateful you'd held your tongue earlier. Still, though, every muscle in your body seemed to tense as Filch approached the corridor that had offered you and Blaise shelter. For a single, painstaking moment, the caretaker grumbled at the entrance, his voice mere meters away. You didn't dare to even breathe for fear of giving up your hiding place.

But then, mercifully, he huffed, grunting something that sounded like dismissal. The sounds of his uneven gait and rusting lantern slipped away into the distance, as did Mrs. Norris's mews of protest.

When the air was finally silent, you dared to release your shaky breath, opening your eyes to see Blaise in front of you. You let out a whisper of an incredulous laugh, collapsing against his firm chest as you tried to process what you'd just experienced. He rubbed your back with his palm, easing the immense tension out of your muscles.

"You still okay?"

You released your arms from around his ribcage so you could look up at him. "Yeah." Giving a wry smile, you shook your head. "Merlin, I've certainly never done anything like that before."

"You're a natural." A playful grin stretched across his face. "We should sneak out more often."

"Well you're the one that knows every hidden passageway at Hogwarts, apparently," you rebutted lightly, though you still didn't dare raise your voice above a murmur. "I never realized there was a broom cupboard here."

He laughed softly. "I've known about this one since Third Year."

You raised an eyebrow, taking in a falsely scandalized gasp. "Blaise Zabini. Was this all just a ploy to get me into a broom cupboard with you?"

"Oh, sweet girl." There was a teasing glimmer in his eye as he caressed your cheek with his thumb. "You should've known better. After all, I'm dead-set on ruining you."

The thought of what that might entail sent a delicious tingle up your spine. Salazar, if he wanted to ruin you, it was more than welcome. He could take apart everything you'd been before him, everything you thought you knew, and scatter it to the ends of the earth for all you cared. The well-behaved little Ravenclaw princess that you once were, with her Mary Janes and her Prefect boyfriend, was dead now. You were free from all of that.

Biting your lip, you found his gaze with wide, wanting eyes. "Then do it, Zabini."

Your back hit the wall of the broom cupboard with a thud that stole your breath, his hand coming up to protect the back of your head as his lips met yours in a searing kiss. They worked against yours with an urgency that you couldn't help but mirror, a desperation to be closer, closer, closer, emphasized when his hands lowered to grip your hips fervently. The silver of his signet ring kissed the bare flesh of your back as your sweater slipped up to reveal a hint of your skin, the sensation of his fingers grasping at you making you whimper softly into his mouth.

He slipped his tongue between your lips, the desperate invasion of your space making you want him all the more. Your fingers grasped the collar of his shirt and then your arms twined around his neck, trying to meld him to you at every point possible. A low growl escaped from his throat, making your knees weak. But the shakiness of your stance ceased to matter as he lifted your thigh and wrapped your leg around him, slotting himself up against you. Lowering his lips to your neck, he began to explore every inch of your sensitive skin.

The sounds that were spilling from your lips were utterly uncontrolled, little whimpers and moans that grew more urgent with every one of your boyfriend's ministrations. Your fingers grasped desperately at the fabric of his shirt, gasping as he took your flesh in his teeth and sucked.

"Blaise —!"

"Oi!"

The delicious mix of pleasure and pain was still clouding your head as you processed the distant outcry. Your gaze flashed toward the door of the broom cupboard and suddenly, with a murmured incantation and a crash it was open.

"Are you aware that you are in violation of Hogwarts curfew?"

Before you could glance through the doorway or open your mouth to speak, before you could even so much as think, a horrible, spine-chilling realization overcame you like a bucket of ice water poured over your head.

You knew that voice.

Before Blaise, you’d spent years dating Ernie MacMillan. He was a bloke who looked great on paper, all high marks, leadership, and volunteerism. Though you’d thought you were doing the right thing, taking his friends as your friends and his enemies – especially Blaise himself – as your enemies, Ernie had been double-crossing you the entire time. Your previous relationship had fallen apart in catastrophic fashion when you’d found him snogging Hannah Abbot, his Prefect partner.

And of course, who'd found you on a night like this? It had to be your cheating ex-boyfriend and Hannah, his new girlfriend.

They both knew that you were with Blaise now. Turning around from a two-year relationship to date your ex-boyfriend's worst enemy would've been a pretty difficult thing to keep quiet. But you'd done your best to avoid them both since the breakup, and you'd certainly never wanted either of them to see you like this. You knew that your lips were puffy and swollen, your hair messy, your clothes wrinkled, a hickey was rapidly forming on your neck…you looked utterly wrecked.

You couldn't manage to move or speak. What were you supposed to do? You couldn't step out the door, couldn't let him see you, but you also couldn't stay where you were. The best option seemed to be melting into the wall of the broom cupboard and disappearing altogether.

"Hey."

Blaise's gentle voice pulled you from your spiraling thoughts as he pulled you into his arms. Almost subconsciously, you took shelter in them, allowing him to draw you close. His fingers found your hair, gently smoothing it and teasing the knots out before he straightened your skirt.

"C'mon."

Hesitantly, you stepped forward, blinking rapidly as your eyes struggled to adjust to the white light streaming from the Prefects' wands. Your stomach swirled with nerves, but you felt reassured by the way that Blaise's arms sheltered you from their prying gazes.

"Ten points from —"

As your vision slowly cleared, you saw the way that Blaise silenced your ex-boyfriend with a single glare.

"Remember our chat, MacMillan."

Ernie's gaze turned to stone, his lips shrinking into a thin line. His eyes flicked from Blaise to you, his jaw shifting in agitation. You saw his glance move across your body, shifting from your puffy lips to the hickey on your neck to his enemy's arms around you.

Blaise turned, nodding in Hannah's direction. "Abbot."

She looked more frightened than anything, her eyebrows creasing as she glanced worriedly at Ernie. Her eyes narrowed when she saw that Ernie's gaze was still on you.

Ernie glared — at you, at Blaise, you weren't certain. "Fine. Go, then."

"C'mon." Hardly believing your ears, you glanced up at Blaise in confusion. He simply nodded toward the open corridor behind the Prefects and led you forward, away from the two most harrowing symbols of your past and into the cool night air beyond.

Blaise might not have been the perfect match for you on paper. His family was notorious in the wizarding world, and his house equally so. The two of you had a long history of shouting matches in the corridors and fiery glares exchanged in class, with you always taking Ernie’s side in their feud while the two of you were dating. But when your relationship with Ernie fell apart, Blaise was there, and though you were scared to believe it at first, he genuinely cared about you. You could see the fury etched across his face when you told him about the way that Ernie treated you, the times that your ex had made you feel small to bolster his own ego. Blaise made you feel safe, he made you laugh, he loved hearing what you had to say and how you felt — and you’d gradually realized that he’d guided you back to a version of yourself that you’d once thought was lost forever. You’d quit caring about what looked right on paper the day that he held you in his arms for the first time.

"What was that?" you whispered as you stepped back out into the Defense corridor, thinking of his words to your ex. Remember our chat? As far as you knew, Ernie and Blaise hadn't said much to each other since you'd broken up with the former. Ernie seemed to be too embarrassed to continue the feud since he'd blown up your relationship and Blaise had won you over. Whatever Blaise had been alluding to, though, had been powerful enough to stop Ernie from enforcing the rules, which was seemingly his greatest passion in life.

Blaise's eyes softened as he glanced down at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "I'll tell you as soon as we get you back to your common room, alright? Just let me get you home first."

The walk back to Ravenclaw tower was easy, as though he'd spoken some sort of protection over you with his words to Ernie. You answered the riddle and held the door open so that he could slip in after you, finally letting out a steep exhale as you stepped back into the familiar room.

Each wall around you glittered with a thousand tiny bronze lights, the wallpaper designed to imitate stars in the night sky. The lights, in turn, illuminated the bronzy detailing woven into the celestially-patterned carpet and tapestries. Though most of the lights had been put out after curfew, a few remained, and the fires in each of the dozen fireplaces around the room aided in illuminating the space.

Thankfully, your common room was empty. Everyone else was already in bed at this hour, hoping to sleep in after a long week of classes or wake early to study. Only Padma, you knew, would still be up, and she was likely in your dormitory, working on her dream journal or her tea leaf readings.

You collapsed onto a high-backed couch, upholstered with soft blue velvet. Blaise followed suit and you immediately cuddled up to him, draping your legs over his thighs and snuggling into his chest. You grinned as he kissed the top of your head and a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the nearby fire.

"Hey, B?"

"Hmm?" He leaned back against the sofa, relaxing as he drew soft patterns on the skin of your upper arm with his fingertips.

"Why did we get away with that?"

He smiled wryly down at you, as if he'd known that you wouldn't let this go. Pausing for a moment, he let out a deep breath before he opened his mouth.

"Remember when you and MacMillan first broke up, and he wouldn't quit staring at you in Transfig?"

You nearly shuddered — you remembered those days all too well. You'd been terrified that if Ernie came up to talk to you, your resolve would break and you'd take him back, or you'd just burst into tears. It felt like you'd sliced yourself open horribly, and instead of letting the wound heal, someone was tearing it open over and over again. Despite the fact that he was with Hannah, he'd seemed utterly incapable of leaving you be, at least for the first week or so after the end of your relationship. Then, it all seemed to pass, strangely enough.

"I told you I just wanted him to leave me alone."

Blaise nodded. "And I wanted to make that happen for you."

Your eyes widened. Lifting your head, your gaze met your boyfriend's as you let out an incredulous laugh. "What did you do?"

He chuckled when he saw the look on your face. "Nothing Azkaban-worthy." Shrugging, he continued, "I just sent Pans on a photo-taking mission the next time he and Abbot were out on patrols. Then I told him that if he didn't want Sprout to see what he was getting up to with his Prefect partner when he was supposed to be working, he should probably leave you alone."

Jaw falling open, you stared at him. You were shocked — but though you knew it was wrong, you couldn't say you were angry. "You're blackmailing him?"

"I prefer to call it a mutually beneficial arrangement." Again, Blaise shrugged, grinning wryly. "He gets to remain a school Prefect despite his indiscretions, and I get to sleep soundly at night knowing my girl isn't being irritated by stray swots in the corridors." He turned his gaze back to you, the levity in his face tempering. "Are you upset?"

"No." You shook your head. "I — " Meeting his eyes, you saw the tenderness within them. "You protected me."

The events had taken place long before you and Blaise had even started dating — he'd given you time to stabilize and put yourself back together before all of that. But even when the two of you were newly friends, he'd gone out of his way to keep you safe from pain.

"I will always protect you." He sealed the promise with a kiss to your lips, lingering and passionate. The taste of fresh spearmint that you'd come to associate with him lingered on your tongue even after you'd broken apart.

You laid with your head against his chest for a while, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and the crackling fire in front of you. Before you'd grown close to Blaise, you'd never thought you could feel this way — so full of passion and desire for another person, so cared for, so loved. Every day, you felt like you were learning something brand new about what it meant to fall for him.

"When I first realized it was Ernie out there, I was afraid," you confessed, breaking the silence. He glanced down at you with gentle eyes, listening as you spoke. "Afraid that I would still feel the hurt when I saw him. But I felt…nothing." Your gaze shifted upwards, meeting Blaise's. "I'm just so grateful that it's over."

"Yeah, me too," he drawled, dragging his fingers lightly over your thigh. You laughed at that, feeling him lightly chuckle as well before he glanced back at you seriously. "You deserved so much more, angel."

"I have it, now."

You could see the subtle spark of pride in his gaze as he smiled. "Yeah?"

"I never knew I could feel this way." You read his expression nervously, wondering if you were getting too sappy. But your boyfriend, who was constantly surrounded by finery, who wore rings that could pay off a mortgage, was looking at you like you were the most beautiful treasure he'd ever seen. "I wake up every day wanting you. When I'm with you, I just want to be closer. Every minute with you feels so good, I think I still have the biggest crush on you ever." You giggled softly, biting your lip as you felt your cheeks heat up. "I…didn't realize it could feel like that."

His hands wrapped around your hips, repositioning you until you were straddling him and making you squeal and laugh in surprise. As your arms twined around his neck, he pulled you in, capturing you in another head-spinning kiss. You melted under his touch, a blissful whine in your throat, and in that moment you knew you would never, ever be tired of kissing him. No matter how long his hands were on your skin, you would always want more.

"I love you."

He murmured the words against your lips for the first time, the declaration rushing through you like a flood. You rested your forehead against his, an irresistible grin spreading across your lips.

"I love you too."

You lost track of time after that, snogging and touching and clinging to each other until your long day finally caught up with the both of you and you were taken by exhaustion. As your eyes fluttered closed on the common room couch, still wrapped up in Blaise's arms, you recalled the last time you'd fallen asleep in a Hogwarts common room. It had been the night you'd caught your ex cheating on you, when Blaise had found you sobbing over him in an empty classroom and taken care of you. As your tears had stopped falling and your eyes began to close, he'd promised you that the next day would be better. Merlin, it had been. There had been so many more better days ahead of you, and every single one had included him.

Thinking back on it, you were certain you'd fallen in love with Blaise a little bit on that night, and a little bit more every day since.

Credits: images ltr: mine, Pinterest here, Pinterest by calianakanaan here | divider by @saradika-graphics here