once you get over your ass and realise you will never get some people and that’s ok you are basically immune to right wing fearmongering. otherkin? none of my fucking business
I must not fall victim to disgust. Disgust is the heart-killer. Disgust is the little-death that brings total apathy. I will face my disgust. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the disgust has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
"I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you."
word count: 4,347.
summary: in the past, theo leaves london and cuts contact after realizing he couldn't survive loving you while you're with cedric. in the present, both of you struggle with the damage his silence caused until you finally come face to face again at malfoy manor.
author’s note: yeah yikes what kind of heartless wench would write this? (me, it's me). i'll understand if you throw tomatoes at me for the rest of time because ouch this one really hurt.
♫ the night we met - lord huron (feat. phoebe bridgers). nav. chapters. more theo.
Present
June 4, 2003
Nott Manor — Dorset, England
Dear Bella,
London feels different than I remember.
Not in any dramatic way. Nothing has changed enough for that. The streets are still the same tired shade of grey with it rains. The Floo stations are still too loud, too bright, too busy with people who don’t know where they’re going.
It’s just me.
That’s what’s different.
I keep expecting it to feel like coming home, but it doesn’t. It feels like being somewhere I no longer belong.
Draco was the first person I saw at Nott Manor.
Not you.
I think that says more than I want it to.
He acted like nothing had changed. That is Draco’s way. He walked through the house, made a joke about the lighting being criminally depressive, and asked me how long I planned on pretending I didn’t need sleep.
I told him I was fine.
He didn’t believe me.
No one ever really does anymore.
I haven’t seen you.
I keep telling myself that’s normal. That London is large and people miss each other all the time without it meaning anything deeper than logistics and timing.
But it feels wrong.
Because I keep thinking about how, if I had walked through any door in this city a year ago, I would’ve wanted it to lead to you.
Instead, it led to silence.
I’m attending Draco’s birthday gala.
Nonna insists I go. She says it’ll be good to see old friends, which is her polite way of telling me she’s sick of watching me wallow in self-pity.
She’s probably right.
The idea of seeing you there makes my stomach turn in a way I can’t quite name. I don’t know if I’m afraid of it or if I’ve just forgotten how to be around you without falling apart in ways I’m not allowed to show anymore.
Cedric will be there, I assume.
I think I’m trying, in my own terrible way, to be okay with that.
To be okay with seeing you and not being the first person you turn toward first.
I don’t know if I’ll succeed.
But I’m trying.
I think that might have to be enough for now.
For Always,
Teddy
Past
September 22, 2002
Theo’s Townhome — Rome, Italy
He doesn’t remember stepping inside.
Only the moment the silence hits him.
It isn’t familiar. It isn’t comforting. It’s suffocating. A pressure behind his ribs, like the pain had been waiting all summer to finally close in around him.
For a moment, he just stood there. Still holding the memory of you like it might anchor him. Like it might explain why leaving felt like having his heart carved out of his chest.
Then, he broke.
His body gave out on him in the middle of the entryway like it no longer knew how to hold itself together.
He slid down the wall before he even realized he was moving.
And then began to shake.
Not the kind of quiet, restrained trembling he learned in his father’s house. Not the kind he perfected in rooms where silence was safer than sound.
This was worse.
This was the kind of crying he used to do as a child after his mother died, when he didn’t yet know how to hide the parts of himself that hurt.
It was open. Uncontrolled. Ugly in the most human way.
And he hated how much relief there was in it.
Nonna found him like that.
She didn’t ask questions.
She just knelt beside him slowly, her hands gentler than anything in life had ever taught him to expect, and touched his face like she was making sure he was truly there.
“Oh, amore,” she whispered softly.
The endearment hit him harder than anything else.
She hadn’t called him that in years. Not since he was small enough to climb into her lap and insist, with all the stubborn pride of a grieving little boy, that he was too old for pet names now. That he was a big boy. Strong enough.
But Theo didn’t feel strong now.
He felt twenty-three and sixteen and ten years old all at once.
Nonna said nothing else at first. She simply helped him stand when his legs failed beneath him and guided him upstairs with one steady hand pressed carefully between his shoulders.
She made him tea that went untouched on the bedside table. Wrapped a blanket around him with the same quiet care his mother once had after nightmares. When she tucked the edge beneath his arm, her fingers lingered briefly in his hair.
“You don’t have to face this alone,” she said quietly.
That nearly broke him all over again.
That night, he told her everything.
It wasn’t neat or brave. It was raw and exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be for a very long time. Words spilled out between uneven breaths—you, Cedric, the letter, the silence, the unbearable agony of loving someone so completely while standing helplessly beside them as they chose someone else.
And somewhere in the middle of it, he started sobbing again, properly this time, face pressed into her lap like he was ten years old again with nowhere else to go.
Nonna held him without hesitation.
One hand stroked slowly through his curls while the other rested over his shoulder, grounding him whenever his breathing turned uneven.
“I know,” she murmured softly when his words dissolved into grief again. “ I know, amore.”
Theo couldn’t remember the last time he let anyone hold him like that.
“You love exactly like your mother did,” Nonna said after a long while, her voice thick with something dangerously close to grief itself. “Wholeheartedly. Without apology.”
Theo’s breath caught unevenly.
“She used to love people as though it was the easiest thing in the world to give them every soft part of herself,” Nonna continued quietly. “And you…” Her hand brushed gently through his hair again. “You inherited that from her, whether you realize it or not.”
His chest ached so violently he thought it might split open.
Because no one had ever said that like it was something beautiful before.
His father had called it weakness. Carelessness. Something fragile that would one day ruin him.
But Nonna said it like it was the best thing about him.
And perhaps that was why he finally broke completely in her arms.
Past
December 12, 2002
Theo’s Townhome — Rome, Italy
For the next three months, Theo existed rather than lived.
Rome carried on around him in all its effortless beauty. Sunlight spilled through ancient windows. Markets bustled below. His cousins laughed too loudly over meals, and Nonna’s garden bloomed as though grief had no place there at all. But Theo moved through it like a ghost haunting someone else’s life.
He threw himself into work because it was easier than being alone with his thoughts.
Board meetings. Ministry visits. Endless social appearances with old Italian pureblood families who cared more about legacy than happiness. Theo attended them all with his usual polished smile, sharp wit, and immaculate composure.
And every night, he returned home hollow.
Your letters kept arriving.
At first, he read every single one.
He hated himself for it.
He hated the desperate flicker of hope that still ignited every time your handwriting appeared on an envelope. Hated the way his pulse still betrayed him. Hated how quickly that hope curdled into devastation when each letter remained painfully unchanged.
You told him about work. About St. Mungo’s. About your friends.
About Cedric.
Always Cedric.
Theo wrote replies sometimes.
Short ones. Carefully worded. Just enough to seem present without truly being vulnerable. But eventually, even that became unbearable.
Because every letter felt like reopening a wound that never had the decency to close.
So he stopped.
At first, he told himself it was temporary. That he simply needed space. Time. Distance enough to cauterize whatever still bled when it came to you.
But days became weeks.
Weeks became months.
And the silence between you grew so vast it began to feel irreversible.
Nonna never pushed him.
She only watched with quiet sadness as her grandson, who had once loved so openly, slowly began retreating behind walls even Rome’s warmth could not penetrate.
“You can’t heal by starving your heart, Theodore,” she told him once over morning tea.
Theo had only offered her a tired smile.
“No,” he said quietly. “But perhaps I can teach it not to want what it can’t have.”
Nonna looked at him then with the sort of sorrow only grandmothers and saints seemed capable of carrying.
But she said nothing.
Because some griefs couldn’t be reasoned away.
Only survived.
Past
October 31, 2002
Your Flat — Primrose Hill, London
At first, you were worried.
Theo had always been terrible at communicating when he was overwhelmed, so his initial silence, though unsettling, didn’t feel catastrophic. You wrote often, filling pages with updates about St. Mungo’s, your patients, your mum, your friends.
You called whenever you could.
But each time, there was always an excuse.
Theo was busy.
Theo was with Nonna.
Theo was working.
Theo was resting.
At first, you believed it.
Because you trusted him.
Because Theo had been your person for so long that the idea of him willingly shutting you out felt impossible.
But eventually, concern gave way to confusion.
Then hurt.
Then something far uglier.
Anger.
Months passed, and still—
Nothing. No letters. No calls. No explanations. Just silence so complete it began to feel deliberate.
You asked Draco once. Then Pansy. Mattheo. Blaise. Enzo. Every answer was the same.
Theo was busy.
Theo was adjusting.
Theo needed time.
And perhaps that was the cruelest part of all.
No one would look you in the eye when they said it.
As though they all knew something you didn’t.
As though everyone had collectively decided you were better off excluded from whatever devastating truth had stolen your best friend from your life.
When half a year had passed, your worry had curdled fully into heartbreak.
Because if Theo no longer wanted you in his life, he could have at least had the decency to tell you.
Instead, he vanished.
And you were left reeling in the wake of his absence.
Cedric became your anchor through much of it.
He was kind when you were grieving. Steady when your emotions felt too sharp. Present in all the ways Theo was suddenly not.
He listened.
And perhaps more importantly—
He stayed.
You hated yourself sometimes for how much you leaned on him.
Not because Cedric did anything wrong.
But because some traitorous part of you still measured absence by Theo’s shape.
Still wondered if every unopened letter mattered to him at all.
Still thought of him daily despite how fiercely you tried not to.
Your life, objectively, was thriving.
Your career flourished. Your friendships bloomed. You built something beautiful and functional and full in the ruins that Theo had left behind.
But every so often, usually in the quiet moments, you still caught yourself wondering—
How does someone promise always…
And then disappear?
Present
June 4, 2003
Your Flat — Primrose Hill, London
By the time your mother called from the Maldives, you were already emotionally exhausted.
Cedric had noticed your distance immediately, of course. He was attentive like that—perceptive in ways that were often comforting, even when you secretly wished he’d miss something for once.
“You’ve seemed off,” he said gently earlier that evening, his hand brushing yours as you sat together on your sofa.
You forced a smile, though it felt fragile even to you.
“I’m okay. Just tired.”
Cedric’s expression made it clear he didn’t fully believe you, but to his credit, he didn’t push. That was one of Cedric’s better qualities. He knew how to offer space without making it feel like abandonment.
“Do you want me to stay?”
And there it was again—that kindness. That steadiness. That safe kind of affection that never demanded more than you were capable of giving.
You swallowed hard, guilt rising sharper than expected. “I think,” you said carefully, “I just need to be alone tonight.”
Cedric hesitated only briefly before nodding. “Of course.”
He kissed your forehead before leaving, warm and familiar, and the guilt settled heavier in your chest the moment the door shut behind him.
Because Cedric was good.
And perhaps that was part of the problem.
He deserved someone less fractured than this. Someone who didn’t feel pulled apart by ghosts they could never quite seem to bury.
Your mother’s face appeared in the Floo moments later, sun-kissed and glamorous somewhere impossibly beautiful. The soft golden light behind her only emphasized how far removed she was from the emotional catastrophe unfolding in your London flat.
“Barely,” she replied dryly, pressing a hand theatrically to her chest.
For a moment, it almost felt normal. Easy. Like the version of yourself that hadn’t spent the last several days unraveling might still be recoverable.
But a mother knew her daughter.
Her expression softened immediately. “Will you be alright?”
The question was gentle, but it landed heavier than you wanted it to.
You hesitated.
“Cedric’s taking me.”
Your mother’s silence was subtle.
But noticeable.
She liked Cedric well enough. You knew that. He was kind, respectable, dependable—the sort of man mothers were supposed to adore for their daughters.
But Estelle also knew you.
And mothers, unfortunately, had a way of recognizing unhappiness even when it wore a convincing smile.
“And Theo?” she asked softly.
Your jaw tightened almost instantly. “No.”
Just one word, but sharp enough to wound.
“He’s back,” you said bitterly, unable to keep the hurt from bleeding through. “And apparently wants nothing to do with me.”
Estelle’s face shifted with quiet understanding, the sort that only made your anger feel more fragile. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“Please don’t.”
Your voice cracked more than you intended, and you hated that she noticed.
“He may just need time,” she offered gently.
That cut to the core.
“I needed time too,” you snapped, harsher than intended. “I needed my best friend, and he left anyway.”
Estelle fell silent.
It was a dangerous sort of quiet. The kind filled with too much grief, too much pride, and far too many tears waiting just beneath the surface.
Your mother looked heartbroken for you, which somehow made it worse.
Because if Estelle pitied you, then perhaps this really had broken you more than you cared to admit.
And so, like hurt people so often did when vulnerability became unbearable—
You ended the call before she could say anything else.
Present
June 5, 2003
Malfoy Manor — Wiltshire, England
Malfoy Manor glittered with old money and opulence.
Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over marble floors. Silver-trimmed corridors stretched endlessly, lined with polished portraits and immaculate floral arrangements that likely cost more than most people’s yearly salary.
Champagne flowed freely, absurdly expensive and dangerously easy to drink, while laughter echoed through rooms filled with Ministry officials, aristocrats, and socialites all pretending their lives were far less complicated than they actually were.
The entire evening felt polished to perfection in the distinct way society functions often did.
And for a while, somehow—
You managed.
You smiled when appropriate. Let Cedric guide you through conversations with practiced charm, his hand warm and steady at the small of your back. You laughed politely with fellow healers, nodded through conversations, and played your role beautifully.
Together, you and Cedric looked perfect.
That, perhaps, was part of the problem.
Because at some point perfection started to feel suspiciously similar to performance.
Still, there were moments of genuine comfort.
Hermione and Padma found you near the champagne tower not long after your arrival, both looking effortlessly stunning.
Hermione immediately adjusted a barely visible wrinkle near your sleeve with the deeply ingrained reflex who loved you enough to fuss.
“You look beautiful,” she said warmly.
Padma glanced you over once before sipping her drink.
“You look emotionally constipated,” she corrected dryly.
Her bluntness was oddly comforting.
“Padma,” Hermione sighed.
“What?” Padma replied in her usual flippant way. “She does.”
Before you could answer, Pansy appeared in a sweep of dark silk and perfectly curated efficiency, looking every bit the terrifying social architect she had clearly become.
“Honestly,” she said, glancing between the three of you, “if even one of you starts behaving like a bloody emotional Gryffindor before dessert, I will personally have you removed.”
“You say that,” you replied lightly, your gaze flickering toward where Neville stood nearby reviewing an event ledger with surprising confidence, “but it’s a little hard to take threats seriously when you’re playing event coordinator with Neville Longbottom.”
Pansy’s glare was immediate. “Watch yourself.”
Neville, to his immense credit, merely looked up from his clipboard with all the composed patience of a man who had clearly learned how to survive Pansy Parkinson.
“For the record,” he said mildly, “I’m indispensable.”
“Insufferably so.”
The faint pink threatening Neville’s cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.
“Neville,” she said smoothly, “blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”
Nevilled smiled. “I’ve accepted my fate.”
“Pathetic,” Pansy muttered, though her fond smile betrayed her entirely.
Not far away, a far more chaotic diplomatic effort was currently underway.
Harry, Ron, and Ginny had evidently arrived, which in itself wasn’t particularly alarming.
Draco Malfoy attempting to behave civilly in their presence, however—
That was bordering on disturbing.
“You know,” Ron said, eyeing the hors d'oeuvres with open suspicion, “I still can’t decide if this is genuinely impressive or deeply pretentious.”
“It can be both,” Ginny replied easily.
Harry, ever the exhausted mediator, accepted a drink from an increasingly tense house elf before glancing toward Draco.
“Nice event.”
Draco, standing with all the rigid restraint of a man actively suppressing decades of instinctive antagonism for the sake of his girlfriend’s sanity, gave a stiff nod.
“Potter.”
Hermione, from beside you, placed a placating hand on his shoulder.
“Draco,” she prompted warmly.
He exhaled through his nose.
“Harry,” he corrected, sounding as though basic politeness caused him excruciating physical pain.
Ron looked personally victimized by this social progress.
“Blimey,” he muttered. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”
Draco’s jaw twitched. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Ginny snorted directly into her drink, but somehow, against all odds, everyone survived the interaction. Well, almost everyone.
“I need a stronger drink,” Draco muttered to Blaise as he passed.
Blaise, of course, was utterly delighted by his distress.
Eventually, your friends gathered properly around you.
Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Enzo, and Mattheo.
For a brief moment, the sight of them all together felt painfully nostalgic. Like stepping into a version of your life that had once been whole before everything became so unbearably fractured.
Draco was the first to speak, his usual polished composure softened by something far more sincere. “You came.”
“Of course I did,” you replied, though the lingering hurt in your voice was sharp enough to make several of them visibly uncomfortable.
Mattheo, to his credit, looked appropriately guilty.
Enzo appeared quietly miserable.
Blaise, though composed, had the distinct expression of someone fully aware that the entire situation had been handled catastrophically.
And Pansy—
Pansy looked almost offended by her own discomfort.
Her arms crossed tightly, elegant as ever, though the tension in her posture betrayed more than she likely intended.
“We were wrong,” she said carefully, each word sounding as though it had been dragged somewhere vulnerable. “We all were.”
You stared at her.
Because Pansy Parkinson was many things—proud, abrasive, terrifying—but an inconsiderate friend had never been one of them.
“I was angry with Theo,” she admitted, more quietly now. “For leaving. For putting all of us in that position.”
Her jaw tightened faintly. “But I never meant for that anger to hurt you.”
The sincerity in her voice was almost harder to process than Mattheo’s apology.
Pansy was not expressive in the way others were.
But she loved fiercely.
Protectively.
And though she would likely rather perish than say it plainly, you had always known.
You squeezed her hand. “I know, Pans,” your voice was soft as you looked around at your friends. “I know you were all just trying to protect me. To protect Theo. But pretending nothing was wrong hurt worse than anything else.”
Blaise exhaled softly, unusually serious.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, voice smoother than usual but no less sincere, “we handled things poorly.”
“That,” Padma muttered into her champagne, “feels like the understatement of the year.”
Blaise blinked.
Then, to everyone’s mild surprise—
He smiled.
Not his usual effortless charming smirk.
A real one.
Bright, immediate, and entirely too charmed.
Padma noticed instantly.
“Oh no,” she said flatly.
Mattheo nearly choked on his drink. “Is Zabini blushing?”
“I do not blush,” Blaise said.
Padma arched a brow. “You look unwell.”
You didn’t think it was possible, but Blaise looked even more delighted than you had ever seen him.
Draco pinched this bridge of his nose.
“Brilliant. Another one falls.”
Hermione, instigator that she was, looked deeply amused.
“You do seem to have that effect on emotionally constipated aristocrats,” she mused toward Padma.
“Unfortunately,” Padma replied coolly.
Enzo, predictably, looked thrilled by the unfolding disaster.
“I, for one, support this entirely.”
Despite everything—
Despite Theo, despite the ache, despite the complicated grief still lodged somewhere beneath your ribs, you laughed.
And perhaps that was what hurt most.
How easy it still was to feel like yourself around your friends.
Even after they had hurt you.
Even after he had left.
Mattheo’s expression softened at the sound, something remorseful flickering in his gaze. “We are sorry, you know,” he said, more quietly this time.
Your smile faded slightly, but not entirely. “I know.”
And you did.
It didn’t erase the damage.
But it mattered.
For a little while longer, things almost felt normal.
Until eventually, the weight of the evening began settling heavier against your shoulders.
By the second hour, the smiles felt more forced. Cedric’s hand at your back, though kind, felt less grounding and more performative. Every conversation became just slightly more exhausting than the last.
So eventually, quietly, you excused yourself.
The bathroom offered temporary sanctuary.
Cool marble countertops. Silence. A blessed absence of expectation.
Space enough to breathe.
You stared at your reflection longer than necessary, your expression more fragile than polished.
“You’re fine,” you whispered softly.
The lie rolled easily off your tongue.
When you finally stepped back into the corridor, you stopped so suddenly that a couple nearly plowed right into you.
Draco had told you that Theo would be there. Told you, with his usual infuriating composure, that Theo had accepted the invitation.
But after a year of silence, after months of avoidance so profound it began to feel deliberate, you hadn’t truly believed he would come.
Some part of you had assumed he would do what he had always done lately.
Disappear.
So when you lifted your gaze and saw him, really saw him standing in the middle of all the noise and light, your body forgot how to move.
Theo.
For one unbearable moment, everything else fell away.
The music, the laughter, the weight of the room, even Cedric somewhere behind you. It all blurred into something distant and unimportant.
Because there he was.
And Merlin, he looked like home and heartbreak all at once.
Theo’s eyes found yours almost instantly.
He didn’t hesitate.
He smiled.
That smile.
Soft, familiar, devastating in the way it had always been yours without ever actually belonging to you.
Something inside you shattered so completely at the sight of it.
You couldn’t do this.
Couldn’t stand there and pretend you were fine.
Couldn’t survive another version of him leaving you while still looking at you like that.
So you turned.
Too fast. Too sharp.
“Y/N—”
His voice followed you immediately, cutting through the noise.
“Y/N, hold on.”
Footsteps echoed behind you.
Close enough that your chest tightened painfully.
“You don’t have to leave.”
You stopped so abruptly that your heels clicked sharply against the marble floors.
Then turned, fury and heartbreak colliding so violently inside you that your entire body trembled with it.
“Really?” you demanded, voice shaking. “That’s the best you've got?”
Theo’s expression crumpled instantly.
“You ignore me for a whole year,” you continued, words spilling faster now, messier, less controlled, “you drop me like I never mattered, and now you’re surprised I can’t even stand to look at you?”
“Bella, please just stay—”
“Stay?” you let out a sharp, broken laugh that was devoid of emotion. “I’m not the one who left, Theo.”
Your hands were shaking now.
“I was right here,” you said, quieter this time, like it was worse to admit it softly. “Right fucking here waiting for my best friend.”
Theo looked stricken.
“Only for you to cut me out of your life without explanation.”
Each word landed like reopening wounds you had spent an entire year pretending didn’t still bleed.
“You broke my heart, Theo.”
The confession hung there.
Raw.
Unforgiving.
“I never would’ve done this to you,” you whispered, tears finally spilling over despite everything. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Theo’s face collapsed in on itself.
“I’m sorry, bella,” he said, and his voice sounded wrecked in a way that made your chest tighten all over again. “I’m so sorry.”
He meant it.
You knew he meant it.
And that was the worst part.
Because apologies didn’t erase a year’s worth of silence.
You shook your head slowly, tears blurring everything now. “I’m sorry, too.”
Theo went still.
“I’m sorry for believing you when you promised you would always be there for me.”
His expression broke completely then, like something inside him finally shattered.
you all really love these Tommy creampie fics huh…
ANYWAY thank you so so so so much😭💗 100k likes is genuinely INSANE. if anyone told me I’d get one hundred thousand likes just by posting my nasty thoughts about my fav milky british orphan boy I’d have said u r crazy. unbelievable, I am gonna squish you all SO TIGHTLY <3333 🫂❤️
also shoutout to @leeny-leens who was my 100k like🤓💞
pro-tip: your blog is about you. be self-indulgent, self-absorbed, and self-possessed. go all in on your obsessions. this is a work of self-expression, a living monument to your heart.
✧[Summary]✧ You have an enormous crush on Mattheo Riddle. Although, you're way too busy pushing your nose into books and being an angel for such a popular guy to look your way. That never stopped you though, your little 'harmless' ways to stalk him around hogwarts has gotten way more ridiculous than ever, as if your eyes lingering on him for way too long wasn't enough. But as time passes by, you slowly notice his figure disappearing within your sight. That's when you realize.. With how frequent you observe his presence in front of you, you never acknowledged watching behind you.
✧[Content]✧ Mature Content, nerd!reader, stalker!reader, fem!reader, stalker!mattheo, obsessive!mattheo, jealous!mattheo, pervert!mattheo, size difference, masturbation, oral sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, praising, swearing, teasing, smut with plot, no use of y/n, mattheo loves to tease you because you're always such a goody two shoes, but little does he know what he's about to find out..
✧[A/N]✧ Y'all need to speak up my inbox feeling real lonely 😔 Anyways, my second fic with a different guest, I hope it hits all the right buttons in your complicated brains. Luvlubs, cherubs!
✧[WC]✧ 4.4k
"He looks so ethereal." A random girl practically moaned out 'whispering' to her friends in the quiet library while pointing a long manicured nail at Mattheo Riddle leaning at a bookshelf laughing with his friends. Fuck these girls, why is he so damn popular?
Not that you don't agree with them. Ethereal? Hell yeah he is. He was carved by the finest sculptor of all time, it seems. His effect being on level with the past, present, and future. The image of him lingering with failed restraint and the presence of his name fluttering your heart, but the thoughts of Riddle scattering the inner walls of your brain was expertly masked by a sharp minded perfectionist every academic achiever fears.
Ironed uniform, ends of the white button up neatly tucked underneath your dark pleated skirt, tie securely wrapped below the collar, black robes folded somewhere in your dorm—the summer heat really got to every student, including him, seeing as you weren't the only one without it. Riddle had his black robes off long before he strode in the library—the fabric hanging on his shoulder. His tie loose, top few buttons were undone, shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, both hands in his pockets, looking fine as ever.
You didn't bother to lower your shameless stare as you sat a few tables before him, books stacked left and right, a couple laid opened in front. To be fair, you were actually studying, but that was until he had to disturb your peaceful study session and decided to walk in. Why is he here anyway? Especially around this hour when he just chatters and jokes around with his group of friends. The hallways are dead silent, why not be there like he always does?
Whatever—you study at this specific table daily right after classes, surely it's fine if you finish a little early and take a break. And when you mean break, you mean staring a little more. You know his whole week schedule like the back of your hand, as if it was yours, but lately he's been missing a few classes, rarely shows up at the great hall to eat, and doesn't go on little smoking trips at night that much anymore. You hate how you notice—it's ridiculous. Your eyes trail as he takes a look at the expensive watch wrapped around his wrist and exits the room—perfect. The clock near the doorway signals that it was time for his quidditch practice (and when your study session ends).
When you arrive at the quidditch stands, there's no greater thing to have than a good guy friend that plays quidditch in the same team as Riddle—Graham Montague, whom you were partnered with once in class. Which also meant you get to watch them especially Riddle every single practice at fridays. It was known by everyone that Graham obviously had interest in you, but being too much of a 'goody two shoes', you were too oblivious to see and ended up pushing him into friend zone more than a couple of times. He was a known heart breaker anyways, he doesn't have any right to deserve you in any way, but you were always too nice to everybody, unknowingly spiked his hopes up with your kindness.
You sat with a book and two water bottles beside you—one for you and one for Graham. He always insists you bring it to him after the practice, but you bring it during just in case anyway. Being the good friend that you are, you occasionally give the sweetest smile man has seen and wave your hands at Graham every time you make eye contact—missing the way Riddle's stare flickering between you and your little friend who is smiling back a little too happily for his liking. His glare was firm, yet behind it, he couldn't hide the jealous storm rumbling within.
"Montague!" He yelled out from a distance, broom flying closer—your eyes switch from Graham's to his. "I chose you to be on this team to play, not to magnet attention. Back on track, c'mon." He patted Graham's back, leaving behind slightly before flashing you a grin with teeth before trailing back to the team. Your heart stuttered violently, thankfully you were sitting down because your knees weakened, as if coordination itself abandoned you.
It went on for couple minutes, and while sipping on your water, you couldn't help but glance more than just a few times at Riddle's focused face as they practice. His brows slightly furrowed, sweat slicked skin, and messy hair. You also noticed him being a little rougher when it comes to giving Montague directions.
Right after the last whistle at sunset—which indicates that their time on the pitch was done, you stood up and rushed down the creaky stairs to give Graham his water that was still ice cold (thanks to magic).
"Thanks, I really owe you one." Graham smiles while panting before he chugs his water down in seconds, some dripping on the sides of his mouth to his neck. You respond with a small smile back, "It's no problem really—"
"May I?" Riddle signals to your bottle that's half full, breathing heavily. Your eyes widened slightly, eyebrows lifting. "Uh—sure!" You squeeked out, blood rushing to your face—he thinks it's absolutely adorable.
"Thank you, sweetheart." He grins at your reaction at the nickname—thighs visibly clenched together. He takes it and twists off the bottle cap, the veins in his hands slightly flexing. You gulp as you quietly observe him tilting his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he drinks the given water, your bottle seeming a lot smaller squeezed in his large hand. After he was done, he licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand, handing you back the empty bottle—fingers brushing a little longer than intended.
To be honest, your neck ached a little looking up at him, but anything for that eye contact. His gaze moving up and down to your small frame. "Hey beautiful," Graham jumped in, causing you to take one tiny step backwards. You hummed in response, completely different to how Riddle reacted—his demeanor seemed like he wanted to rip the guy in half—kind of scary, oh well. "Come with me." Graham continued before capturing your wrist and dragging you with him to the changing rooms.
You struggled to keep up with his long strides and was in the process of protesting before you two came to a sudden stop. "Wait for me, okay?" He pants, sitting you down on one of the benches right outside the showers before entering in one of the shower stalls. Oh. It's this again. Dragging you all the way here just to make you wait for him to shower. He only did this once before when Riddle was in detention and couldn't monitor, now twice. You had no clue why, but considering you weren't familiar with his infatuation with you, it was no wonder you keep up with this shit.
He does it so you can see his bare torso, with just a towel wrapped around his waist. It honestly isn't even worth it. It takes him about an hour to shower, probably doing everything but taking a proper shower. Fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and ignoring a few other teammates other than Riddle roaming around, half an hour passed—only Graham's shower stall still running water. You hear a snicker and looked up, seeing Riddle leaning against the doorway. Shirtless. He only had a pair of grey sweatpants on, hanging low right where his v line ends, hair still damp from showering. Muscles flexed as his arms were crossed. Your cheeks burned at the way his eyes playfully narrowed at you as he caught your eyes wandering a little too low—he didn't mind at all.
He stepped closer, leaning down until you could feel his minty breath on your face. You tried to scoot backwards in your seat—heart beating faster when your back meets the wall and his face gets even more closer. Just when he's only centimeters away is when he stays still—eyes forcefully burning into yours, down all the way to your thighs that are clenched shut, then back to your flushed face, to which you can see that his pupils had dilated.
"What's a such good girl like you doing in the men's changing rooms, hm?" He spoke lowly, but clear enough so you could hear. You parted your lips to respond, but he cut you off, "Or maybe you're troublesome unlike what everyone portrays you to be." He teases, smirking.
"I'm just waiting for Graham." You huff, voice betraying strength. "Well, Graham can wait for himself." He knew Montague's tricks all too well—it wasn't the first time he's used it on someone. He softly grabbed your wrist, bringing you outside.
As soon as your face hit fresh night air, you sighed, relieved. "See what I mean?" He chuckles softly, "Montague isn't worth your time."
You give him a cheeky smile—cute. Moments of comfortable silence and occasional jokes and giggles passed before you both hear Montague's distant voice.
"Guys?"
⏤͟͟͞͞☆
After you both separated at the dorms, offering each other goodnights and doing your before sleep routine, your mind went crazy and your heart threatened to jump out of your chest as soon as your back hit the bed. Although your brain is absolutely about to burst out of excitement, your body can't help but slump against the bed as it's exhausted. It's Friday, understandable. You flutter your eyes closed, sending you to dream world where all dreams happen.
Next thing you know it's morning. Despite it being summer, you've been met with the very cold morning breeze. Rubbing your eyes, it regains focus specifically on a window that's ajar. So that's where the cold wind came from. You stretch for a good second before standing up to shut the window properly—your owl out of sight, it probably escaped, wasn't the first time that happened. Checking the small clock on your nightstand, you should probably dress for—
Oh.
It's Saturday. Damn it. Whatever, you always go to hogsmeade on Saturdays anyway. Whether its to buy clothes, food, read books on a really cold or really hot metal bench, or just walk around, it's basically a part of your weekly shit.
Rummaging through your clothes, you couldn't find single pair of one of your favorite underwear. You swear the number of it is decreasing by day. Finally deciding on a good pair with decent clothes, you took a quick shower, brushed your teeth, changed, and went out for breakfast.
As you passed by the great hall doors, you took some steps back for a sneak peek to check if Riddle was at breakfast.
Dang it—he's not there.
You wonder where he might be during his times of disappearing. Actually, you didn't have to as you walk in a straight line to smash your face right against his chest—thump!
You almost fell, but the image of embarrassing yourself this early in the morning makes you mentally retort and immediately take small steps backwards to balance.
"Looking for someone?" Riddle smirks down at you, "You should at least know by now that Montague sleeps in at Saturday breakfast, no?" His smirk fades away, blinking when he realized that you were probably checking up on your friend after leaving him unresponded yesterday.
"I wasn't—" You closed your lips shut, if you had said that you were totally not peeking through to check up on Graham, all your efforts of being 'sneaky' down the drain. "Mhm, yeah right." Riddle mutters and walks right past you like he never said a word.
What's his problem?
One minute he's taking long heavy strides down the halls, then leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette. He stills for a bit, thinking, you were on your way to hogsmeade by now. Maybe if he runs fast enough he could catch up like he always failed to do.
He shakes his head as if saying no to the voices in his mind. He thinks it's ridiculous, but really he shouldn't be saying anything when he stole a handful of underwear right next to your sleeping self and shoved it down his pockets last night. He shuts his eyes at the thought. He should really give those back, but he didn't—actually he found doing that pathetic, you're not getting those back.
He couldn't care less as he jerked himself off with it. He was absolutely fond of the idea of your underwear covering your cunt all day, the way the fabric fits in all the right places. His dirty fantasies doesn't stop there. Just a glimpse of your big curious eyes looking up at him has him crazily aroused. Oh and that smart mouth of yours has him wondering what other stuff it can do other than speak about complicated potion recipes, how warm your soft lips probably feels when it wraps around his—okay maybe he should stop there. He snaps himself awake from his little imaginations and walks straight to his dorm before he gets caught red handed with a boner.
Later that evening you had a hard time sleeping than usual. Just flipping and tossing around in your bed, eventually giving up and laying limp with your eyes focused on the ceiling. Tomorrow's Sunday, then after that it's Monday, then Tues—ugh—time flies fast. Since sleep neglected you now, you reach out deep into your thoughts looking for something that might help the boredom.
Ah, perfect—Mattheo Riddle.
You remember the way he stared in a specific way at you in potions, the way you made eye contact with him during his practices, the way his veiny hands were buckling his belt when you were peeking in his window while he was getting ready for school, the way his face was so close to yours yesterday at the shower rooms—what if you just leaned in?
His soft lips against yours, that would've felt heavenly. You sigh, this wasn't really the worst thing you've done, so why not? You decide as your hand reaches down to your clothed heat and pressing down on the sensitive area.
You push off your shorts and panties in one go, fingers dragging the dripping arousal right on your little bundle of nerves. Hair disheveled, eyes closed, lips parted as soft moans and whimpers escape, your fingers deliberately circling on your clit. Despite your perverse doings, you looked like a fucking angel.
That's exactly what Riddle thinks—as he shamelessly watches you masturbate and occasionally whisper moan his name through that same window he came in and out of last night.
Fucking hell—his mouth literally waters at the sight. He never knew such a sweetheart like you could ever be touching herself to someone that he thought you had no interest in.
Such a naughty girl, fuck—the way you squirm under your own touch. Such a cute little pussy too, just like how he imagined. Who knew his night could turn around like this just because he wanted to return your stolen underwear while you were—what he thought was sleeping.
As much as how badly he wanted to climb in and help, knowing he's exactly your target, it was wrong of him to do so. That doesn't mean it won't happen, now that he found this little secret of yours, it won't be the last time he gets to see you like this.
While your eyes were shut, desperate to chase that coiling feeling at the pit of your core, Riddle took a ripped piece of paper from your desk with the use of magic and burnt it with the tip of his wand to write on it. With a precise flick of his wand, the stolen relic was returned, neatly placed on your bedside drawer along with the paper.
Although his initial task was done, he didn't leave. From all the way over here, he could tell you were close. He also wishes you would call him Mattheo more often. Maybe then he'll remember this valuable piece of memory as if he would ever forget about it.
Staring intently into your fingers that had graduately sped up, he keeps on watching until at you reach your high and at the brink of gaining consciousness, he's already walking outside like he never passed by.
Fluttering your eyes open and breathing heavily, you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom and came back with a lingering sense that something changed.
Gaze darting across the room until it lands sharply on the bedside drawer. Isn't that your underwear?
How considerate—Riddle had the courage to give you one of the four panties that he stole.
"Where have you been hiding, hm?" You inspect the garment, it seems clean. As you picked it up, something slipped from the drawer and onto the floor. A paper. You picked it up.
Troublesome and naughty too? Who would've thought..? Other than me ;)
Oh fuck.
You read it for about a hundred times before throwing it across the room. You lay slump on your bed, palms covering your eyes. You just wanna fucking sleep, but how can you do that when you know there was definitely someone that saw you masturbating to someone you definitely shouldn't have been masturbating to?
Whatever this shit was, it was a dream. Yeah, a dream.
...
Please fucking wake up right now.
You didn't wake up.
Fuck fuckity fuck.
You curled up in a ball and hid under the covers. Eventually you did fell asleep, but not without having to stress yourself to death. Whoever saw you did what you did, you'll deal with it tomorrow.
Minutes later.. You found yourself wide awake under the moon. Staring at the ceiling. Troublesome? Sounds quite familiar, no? There was only one person who could've gave you that paper—and the missing underwear.
Mattheo fuckass Riddle.
What in the actual fuck was he doing in your room? And more importantly, why the fuck did he steal your stuff? Your heart thumping, you soon realized that you eventually have to confront him, now that he knows it's his name you're moaning when you touch yourself.
But at the same time, it kind of excites you. He literally stole your undergarment(s). What else did he do with them?
Only one way to find out.
After getting ready and changing into appropriate (or not) clothes, you hesitantly went down to the corridor leading straight into an ongoing party, if there was one thing to know about Riddle, it's that he never misses one.
Music blaring in your ears as you enter, glancing from person to person right until one of those eyes were staring right back at you. He gets closer till he was standing in front of you, ears blurred out the music, filling it with the quickening beat of your heart.
"That was you?" Your voice confronting, yet weak as he stepped even closer. He narrows at you, "Knew you're a smart girl, wasn't expecting you to figure it out so easily, huh?" He thinks for a bit, "Don't you think you shouldn't be the only one doing the confronting?" He smirks.
"Riddle." You gulp while looking up at him.
"It's Mattheo." He counters.
"Mattheo." You respond, the name tastes familiar on your tongue, but you never used it to actually address him.
His vision lowered down to your attire. You didn't think much of it as it was rushed, but clearly it made him think a lot more than just a short dress that barely covers anything. You never wore it out before, oh but it hugged your figure perfectly, showing the flesh of your thighs and cleavage that you swore to cover. He audibly groaned at the sight, hands finding the curve of your waist.
Even with all the bright party lights in his eyes, you knew in that moment, whatever he wanted, his eyes told you it was real.
And then it happened. Before any thought could resurface, before restrained unleashed, his lips found yours.
Raw, aching, and claiming. Both hearts thundered, a kiss that burned and drowned in chaos. It took strength to pull away, even to breathe. And once you did, it left you gasping.
His glare was harmless, but it meant something—desperate. His heavy grip, unfaltering, not ready to let go just yet. But then, he loosened his hold.
Instead, his fingers wrapped around your wrist in one swift move and leads you straight to his dorm. Except, he halted right at the door.
"I want you to tell me you need this as much as I do." He breathes, gaze softening.
"I want you." You didn't hesitate one bit.
His palms slide under your thighs and carries you into his dorm as his lips captures yours once more. You gasp into his mouth in surprise when he closes his door by pinning your back onto it.
Fingers grasping and curling against his scalp earns you a groan into your mouth that sends jolts to your core. His lips fierce, but his fingers were gently as it's securely under your thighs supporting your whole weight. He can feel warmth radiating from your body.
Still deep into the kiss, he walks you over to the bed and sits you on his lap. Removing his shirt, it cuts off the kiss. While your at it, you kneeled down on the ground in level to the unmistakable tent in his pants.
His eyes widened, "Darling, you don't have to—" You cut him off with a peck.
"I want to taste you, please..?" You beg and give your best puppy eyes, though you didn't have to, you on your knees for him was already more enough.
"Fuck, baby.." How could he ever resist you?
You watch him unbuckle his belt in full view, in all honesty, it just makes you pool even more. You impatiently pull down his pants and boxers at the same time.
He chuckles while you gawk at his size before reaching down to the ends of your dress and pulls it off as well, leaving you bare with just in a bra and panties. Slowly, your hand reaches to wrap around his length.
My goodness.
Your thumb does not reach the rest of your fingers around him. You mentally prepare your jaw before spitting to lubricate, then wrapping your warm soft lips around it. He groans, perfect.
You lower at least halfway in and do the rest of the job with your both of your hands.
"So good f'me." He rasps.
He slightly jolts in pleasure and whimpers as you swirl your tongue around his tip before bobbing your head up and down again.
You look up at him while he tilts his head back, eyes shut. He's undeniably close, but he hasn't even fucked you yet. Once you pull away to breathe, he takes his chance and throws you onto the bed.
While kissing and trailing hickeys on your neck, he slides a hand under and unclips your bra. A whine escapes past your lips as he latches a nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking and doing the same to the other.
He gradually moves down while the tip of his nose is firmly dragging tingling sensations all over your lower half. He halts right above your pulsating cunt and takes off the final piece of undergarment.
Your breath hitches as his tongue goes contact to your entrance and drags up to your clit, wasting no time. It was his dirtiest fantasy coming to life. His cock throbbing to replace his tongue, a competition, a test to Mattheo's resistance. Although his greediness won over in an instant, as he already planned out to do both.
The pulsating bud begging for air under his tongue makes him no less hungry. "Mmgh—Mattheo!" Your voice struggling to keep up with how much he's lapping you up.
One last lick before his warm lips suck on your clit. "Oh—shit..!!" You tremble as a tight rope inside you just snapped. Warmth gushing your lower half, Mattheo never stopped.
Your mind burns into flames as your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Hands gripped onto his hair, not knowing whether to pull him closer or push him away. Vision blurring, he eventually stops.
He claims your lips in a kiss and positions his tip right to your soaked entrance, collecting arousal. His head drops to your shoulder, placing light kisses as he sinks in. The stretch burning so satisfyingly.
"So perfect 'round me.." He holds your head to his chest when he bottoms out, groaning.
"Yeah—please, mhhm." You choke out eagerly, your pussy swallowing him whole.
"I know, baby.." He groans, holding his high so he can make you feel good first. The first few thrusts had you moaning so heavenly for him. He wasn't quiet either—moans so pornographic it should be illegal.
Speeding up, his cock flush deep inside, skin slapping. He supports his weight on one arm above your head, the other had a soothing thumb grinding deliciously right on your sensitive clit.
Tears brimmed, you looked at him with all your might. His eyes glued at the way his dick slides in and out of your greedy pussy that's securely around him, then up to your teary eyes.
"Yeah that's it, baby. You're doing so good." He forces his words out of his throat. You cry out his name, his steady pace getting harder each thrust.
The tight rope that broke earlier had tied itself, tighter and tighter, until it snapped, hard. Your walls rippled around him, clenching while your legs quivered.
His thrusts finally had it's moment and stutters. He groans and splutters his warm cum inside you, filling you up to the brim. Panting, he pulls out. In awe of his cum dripping out of your pussy.
"No one else ever gets to see you like this ever again." He was tired, but his words were sharp and sure.
"What does that even mean?" You pout, unsure if he's gonna keep you in the dark to have you to himself or well, nothing else.
"You'll find out."
What have you put yourself into?
Although you can't really hide that a part of you doesn't give a flying shit as long as you're in his hands.
I wonder how Graham would feel after finding out his captain fucked his girl(in reservation) 😛
Work written by me. Some dividers aren't mine and credits go to those who owns them. Please do not copy, translate, or feed my work to AI.
Based off the prompt from tumblr user @creativepromptsforwriting
P.S.: If you haven’t read this series but you like my other fics, i highly recommend reading Villains and Virtues by A.K. Caggiano, its literal gold 💯
Masterlist
“Have you ever had a friendship bracelet?”
The ridiculousness of that question echoed across the rocky walls surrounding their path as it wound through a small craig. It wasn’t the first absurd question that Amma had asked in their seemingly never-ending journey toward Faebarrow, but this one had to be one of the most egregious yet.
Had Damien Maleficus Bloodthrone, Son of Zagadoth the Tempestuous, Ninth Lord of the Infernal Darkness and Abyssal Tyrant of the Sanguine Throne, ever had a friendship bracelet?
The better question would be if he’d had any friends at all, to which the answer would be a resounding no. He was evil, evil beings did not have such childish things as friends.
Damien didn’t justify it with an answer, instead, he released a heavy, long-suffering sigh and debated using the talisman’s power to get her to stop talking - it seemed he was debating this almost every minute he let her have free reign of her own speech.
Kaz had scrambled off somewhere a half hour ago and had yet to come back, however, Damien could sense his presence skulking behind them. The imp had been keeping Amma busy chatting - though it had in truth been Amma chatting at him and Katz shooting back cruel names and annoyed looks. But even his loyal minion couldn’t withstand that brand of torture forever and had fled in a burst of rage, leaving Amma with a new target who was much less engageable than Kaz.
Damien thoroughly debated - for what felt like the millionth time - leaving Amma behind just to avoid her inane questions. Yet he couldn’t leave the talisman unattended, could he? Hence his constant debate on ordering her to shut her mouth. He’d done worse to others for less heinous acts, surely this wasn’t unreasonable.
“I know you heard me, Damien, don’t pretend you’re too dark and broody for a friendship bracelet.” Damien could practically hear the eye roll in her voice and he stifled an irritated growl. “You were a kid at some point, right? Kids give each other friendship bracelets, half-demon or not. I bet you were just like all the other kids, playing with your toys and frolicking in the streets or whatever it is kids do in creepy cities - skulking through the streets?” Amma giggled, apparently, the image of a tiny Damien, pout on his face as he skipped around was too much for her to contain herself.
“I am evil, Amma. Evil people do not frolic, no matter their age.” Damien shot her a withering look. But like a fool, he’d fallen for her bait, and he watched as a wide smirk pulled at her round cheeks. Not wanting to admit to having been beaten, he hissed, “Sanguinisui, do not talk until we reach our camp tonight.” Amma’s mouth snapped shut as her teeth clacked together. Knowing her - as he had unfortunately come to in their time travelling together - she’d been about to gloat and Damien had managed to catch her before she could, thank the hells.
She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly irritated, which only succeeded in painting a smug grin across his lips. Gesturing to the surrounding forest, she put her hands to her throat and made a strangled sound, her tongue comically sticking out the side of her mouth. He supposed he couldn’t blame her after the last time they’d been attacked and she’d been unable to make a shout for help because of his orders.
Somewhere behind them, Damien heard Kaz make a wretching sound.
Damien rolled his eyes but conceded - he couldn’t risk losing the talisman. “Sanguinisui, you may only ignore that last order if you are in danger.”
Satisfied that she wasn’t at imminent risk, Damien turned away from her, clicking his heels against his ‘horse’ to spurn it on faster. The last thing he needed was to look back at where she sat, dejected and fuming. He didn’t want to feel any sort of pity for her, like how he’d feel pity for a weak little kitten caught out in the rain. He had other more important things on his mind, like getting his father out of the crystal, his main objective. He didn’t have the time to spare her any sympathy.
The peace and quiet that had accompanied his order had been truly blissful for about thirty seconds before Kaz took it upon himself to sit behind Damien - now that Amma couldn’t speak to him - and glare at her, making rude gestures along with some snide remarks. Amma had then taken it upon herself to pull stones out of the bottom of her boots and chuck them as hard as she could at Kaz’s impudent face. Unfortunately for Damien, said face was right behind his back, and Amma’s aim was by no means her best ability. She ended up mostly pelting Damien with the pebbles. When one had the audacity to bounce off the back of his head, the scathing glare he shot her way had been enough to make her rethink her actions. Perhaps throwing stones at the man who was in charge of all your actions and would soon be killing you, wasn’t the wisest course of action, unless you were trying to speed up said killing and subsequent death.
By the time they made camp, Damien was in an even fouler mood than he had been after seeing Xavier - which was saying something since that lecherous blood mage never failed to make his blood boil. Damien spat out his usual commands to Amma, told Kaz to guard her, and trekked off into the woods to find them some dinner. Surely hunting a creature would make him feel better.
Kaz took that as his opportunity to discipline Amma himself. “How dare you anger Master Bloodthrone, he does not have time for your petty grievances, you are his captive.” And for good measure, “Whore.”
Damien didn’t bother listening to Amma’s indignant response, he’d heard enough of their banter to know what she’d say, and he was sure it would only serve to piss him off further.
By the time he returned to camp an hour later, a small hare in hand and much calmer after releasing his magic on some unsuspecting trees, he was feeling much more collected.
Amma had her back to him, facing the small fire she’d built and was hopelessly trying to start by spinning a stick in between her hands on top of another slightly larger stick.
“That won’t work,” Damien said in lieu of a greeting.
Amma yelped - the sound much too high-pitched to be at all dignified - and spun around, having been so focused on her task that she hadn’t heard the crunch of dead leaves under his heavy boots when he’d walked up behind her.
Damien smirked. Good, scaring unsuspecting innocent girls was something evil people did, evil like Damien.
“You don’t have to startle me, you know, I was only trying to help.” Amma dropped her sticks, a light blush tinging her pale cheeks.
Damien shrugged and with a wave of his hand, he’d quickly lit the fire. Magic was a wonderful thing.
“Showoff,” Amma muttered under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest. Kaz cracked an eye open from where he was resting on a rock, satisfied that Amma looked dejected, he closed his eyes again.
Amma turned away from the fire, picking at the long grass and small wildflowers that were bordering the little clearing they’d found. Damien paid her no mind and set to work preparing their dinner. By the time it was cooked and devoured by all participants, it was time for bed.
Damien gave Amma her nightly commands, - sit, stay, play nice - and settled down to sleep, turning away from where she sat, staring off into the dark woods, fiddling with grass in her hands. If she didn’t want to sleep, that was on her, but she better not be cranky tomorrow. He didn’t know how he would cope with more irritation after today, he had his limits, and Amma being here was already pushing it. She’d already steered his evil plan off course. He now had to go all the way to Faebarrow to get the amulet out of her - so he didn’t have to kill her. It was out of pity of course, like that cat stuck in the rain, he wasn’t evil enough to push it under a carriage wheel, even if it would end its suffering.
And if his dreams were filled with horrible images of a lost blonde cat, shivering in the rain, no one had to know but him.
***
When Damien woke, the first thing he noticed was that Amma was not where he’d left her sulking by the fire. The second was that said sulker was no longer looking so miserable and had moved to hover over the small sleeping form of their resident imp.
“Do I want to know what you’re doing?” Damien asked, rolling to his side and propping himself up on his elbow, swiping a hand down his face. It was much too early to be dealing with this, but the sooner he got whatever ridiculousness was going on out of the way, the better the rest of his day would be.
Amma whirled around, eyes widened in surprise and hands clasped guiltily in front of her chest, pulling Damien’s eyes to the ample cleavage her shirt did very little to cover. He quickly looked back up to her face, pleased to see she showed no indication that she’d noticed his brief lapse of control of his gaze.
“Have you finally smothered him in his sleep like he deserves?”
Amma squawked indignantly. “Of course not!”
Damien shrugged, sitting up and stretching his arms out from the little aches and pains he’d gained from their sleep on the hard, unforgiving ground.
“That’s too bad.”
“Damien!” Amma hissed, her forehead pinched. “Don’t be so mean to him, look how cute he is when he’s sleeping.”
Cute wouldn’t be how Damien would describe Kaz, his protruding lower jaw wide open, drooling onto the rock he’d made into a pillow, his spindly body spread out haphazardly. In a way, he looked almost dead, if it weren’t for the rise and fall of his chest. Damien could see how he could look peaceful, perhaps, but cute felt like a bit of a stretch.
Damien had prepared another retort, unable to help himself, when a small band of green and white caught his gaze, pulling it toward the imp’s wrist. He rubbed his eyes to ensure he was seeing correctly, and when he blinked away the black spots, he saw that the small band was still there. It was made of thick grass interwoven with small white flowers into a delicate braid pattern and tied in a neat bow.
Damien looked between the bracelet and Amma, his eyebrow raised.
“I think it suits him,” Amma said, smiling down at the sleeping imp. “And I’m very good at making friendship bracelets.”
Damien felt a headache coming on, he thought they’d left this conversation yesterday, “Imps don’t have friends.”
“They do now.”
Stubborn as ever, Amma refused to relent, and Damien no longer knew why he even bothered arguing about this. Kaz would wake up, tear off the offending item, and call her some rude names, to which she would insist he keep the bracelet and be unnecessarily kind to the hateful creature.
And Damien had to pee, something he had no plans of putting off for a pointless argument.
He stood up, brushing off his clothes as he popped the joints in his knees. She frowned, that was odd, there seemed to be an unfamiliar object moving on his wrist. Anger built in his chest before he laid eyes on the object. He already knew what it was.
“We aren’t friends either,” Damien growled, eyes flashing as he looked at where Amma stood, a sly smile on her face. It was unnerving that she’d been able to get the bracelet on his wrist whilst he slept without him noticing, and he would have to add a new line to her commands about not touching him when he was unconscious. He would have noticed earlier, had this grass and flower bracelet not somehow been entirely black, blending in with his black sleeves.
“I even covered it in ashes so it would match your moody aesthetic.” Amma flicked her fingers at him and he felt an indignant jolt run through his chest. He wasn’t moody, though arguing that point would not help his case.
And he would never in a thousand years admit that he couldn’t help but feel it was also strangely…. thoughtful, that she would take into account his preference of colour, or lack thereof.
He grunted, unable to come up with a proper retort so early in the morning, he turned swiftly on his heels to march towards the forest.
“I’m not keeping it,” he called, not bothering to face her as he lifted his arm up and yanked the bracelet off. The bow came apart, ripping slightly as it did.
“No!” Amma’s disappointment was clear in her tone and Damien ignored the tug in his gut from some stupid emotion he didn’t bother putting a name to - likely pity, that was about all his evil heart was capable of in this situation - and he continued his journey to find some quiet and private place to pee. It shouldn’t have been as difficult a task as it had been.
“Fine, be a miserable loner then!” she yelled after him.
“I’m evil, Amma, evil people don’t have friends, and they certainly don’t wear friendship bracelets,” Damien drawled, grinning to himself. “Right, Kaz?” He raised his voice so the imp could hear him. If he hadn’t been evil he would have felt bad about sicking Kaz on her, who at Damien’s call, realized what Amma had bestowed upon him, and was reacting just as he had expected.
Damien chuckled, revenge felt good, these were the consequences of her actions. Including him throwing that damned bracelet away and never looking back.
He twirled the bracelet between his fingers, the ash rubbing off as he did so. It was strange that she’d gone through so much effort to give him something she knew he wouldn’t like. The son of a Demon Lord wearing a friendship bracelet, how absolutely ludicrous. It would get him laughed out of Yvlcon, and he could only imagine what his father would say should he show up to free him from the crystal with an ash-covered, grass and flower braid around his wrist.
He went to toss it into a bush, but at the last second, he hesitated. He couldn’t name what had stopped him, but the image of Amma, eyes wide and glistening with tears over all her hard work going to waste, of him rejecting the gift… it made him seethe quietly, but at the same time, he found himself unable to let go of the offending item.
Resisting the urge to stomp childishly, he shoved the bracelet into his pocket. With any luck he’d forget about it and it would become crumpled beyond repair, and at last, he could part with it, if it didn’t turn to dust first.
It would serve as a reminder that he didn’t need such things, that they weren’t for people like him. Bad people don’t deserve nice things. But if he kept it in his pocket, if he ruined such a nice gift, then maybe he could keep it, if only as a show of how evil he truly was, to hurt someone who had only tried to be kind.
He didn't have friends, nor would he ever, no matter how hard Amma tried, he was sure that he would be a ‘miserable loner’ for the rest of his life. It was his fate, no friendship bracelets would ever change that.
Damien shook himself, he should really be more concerned that that thought upset him, but as he listened to the sounds of Kaz and Amma bickering, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth light somewhere within the deep, dark recesses of his heart.
That damn girl and her damn kindness, surely it would be the death of him. He wasn’t sure what was worse, that his tombstone may read ‘Damien Maleficus Bloodthorne, Killed by Kindness” or that he wasn’t sure he would mind it, as long as it was Amma, with her bright smile and even brighter laugh, who did it.
A/N: I adore this series and it needs so much more hype!! Its literally the funniest and the cutest and had me giggling and kicking my feet???? Irl??? Wild.
Brb gonna go consume everything this author has ever written ✌️
Mattheo Riddle x Ravenclaw Reader! 5k words, fluff, yearning, MPOV
Howdy! Long time fanfic reader and first time writer so please be gentle! This took me a few months to write in between uni work and good god guys buy your fav writer a coffee because this shit is TOUGH! It took so long for this to be more then a jumbled mess on my laptop.
Summery: During a quidditch match between your houses Mattheo reflects on how he grabbled with his feelings for you, but can he save his Little Raven when it counts? Thinking about doing a part two!
Warnings: Talk of heights, talk of mild violence, hinting to family trauma, fair share of yearning, Mattheos' POV
Mattheo decided he hated quidditch.
Sort of.
Maybe.
No.
That wasn’t really true, he loved quidditch. The encouraged aggression-especially as a beater- the physical exertion that got him out of his head and into his body, pushing himself till he physically couldn’t anymore, then pushing harder; and being in control of protecting his friends from harm’s way was as close to healing as he’d come to, not that he would really admit that to himself, let alone those wankers, god knows Enzo would get all mushy about it.
What he really hated, no what he really despised, was quidditch with Ravenclaw.
Or more specifically quidditch with you.
They were a fine team, the Ravenclaws, their chasers, while a bit predictable had stella movement and knew how to fly as an organized flock, blocking a good amount of Theo’s and Enzo’s attempts to get the quaffel back into their possession.
Their keeper needed some work, for a Ravenclaw, he was easily fooled into a fake out, diving prematurely when Blaise aimed one way in a near theatrical fashion, leaving the desired goalpost completely defenceless for him to score, fucking idiot.
The beaters while decent were no match for Mattheo and Marcus, even with Mattheo doing most of the work. Marcus seemed to prioritise sneering and appearing menacingly with a bat then actually pulling his fucking weight. Mattheo’s being telling Draco to cann that trollish prick for months now.
The real issue with the Ravenclaw team was the fucking seeker.
Even in the rainy slate coloured sky you stood out to him, like a beautiful sore thumb. Always catching in the corner of his eye, even when he tried to look away. It felt as if you had nestled yourself in the corner of his brain, sitting there all smug and pretty, probably mouthing off in that stubborn know it all way you do, caressing his thoughts that both set him alight and gave him an unfamiliar and unnerving peace.
Even in the quiet of his dorm, lights low, a half-drunk cup of tea (that Draco would call a sugary milky mess), the soft snores of his dorm mates, and sketch book to keep him company you haunted him still.
It was like everything he drew somehow came back to you. Sketches of the lake soon had you nestled against a surrounding tree, head bent reading a book.
When he would give up on a nightmare free sleep in the quiet hours of the morning and crawl to the great hall before everyone woke in hopes of strong coffee, hashbrowns, and piece of damn mind as he lazily copies the architecture in his messy sketch book.
The hours would tick by, his fellow students would dribble in, finding a nice mediative quality in the early morning hum of sleepy mumbles, no one awake enough to dare break the precious morning silence. When you walked through the double doors in that stupid-and definitely not cute- oversized jumper, he would pretend not to notice, as if he wasn’t wondering why you were three minutes later then usual.
Instead he would sip he’s coffee like you never crossed his mind…he didn’t count on an Oscar anytime soon.
This continued throughout breakfast, intent on keeping some dignity and not look your way every second, when he glanced down at his page to brush off the stray crumb and there you were, both hands wrapped around your coffee mug, bundled in that favourite cozy jumper, with that adorable dreamy half-awake look on your face, he didn’t even register drawing you in.
Never being without your presence somehow felt too much and not enough at the same time, it was maddening.
At first, he thought you had hexed him, some obscure curse you dug up in the restricted section on one of your sneaky nerdy late hour library visits, some spell to drive him even more mental than he already was.
A bit much he thought-to counter Mattheo’s incessant presence in your life and snide bantering remarks you exchanged around the Castel-but he respected the initiative.
It all came to a head about two months ago, after a rather intense and well, rather…explicit dream, Mattheo voiced his concerns to Theo, and what better time than 6:27am.
“That witch has it fucking out for me! She’s worming her way in my mind!” Mattheo staged whispered, the words coming out rushed as he stumbled a jump across to Theo’s bed, clad in his green plaid boxers and one sock on.
Theo, who was now being tossed around like a hacky sack in the Hogwarts courtyards from Mattheo’s incessant shaking, was less then pleased.
“Get off me you mental merda you’re going to push me off the bed!” He mumbled smacking at Mattheo, his voice thick with sleep as he sat up on his forearms, the left side of his hair sticking flat up from sleeping on it.
“what the fuck are you on about? Did McGonagall finally figure out how to give you detention in your sleep?”
“Don’t even joke about that or she’ll figure it out, but no I’m talking about that Little Raven!” Mattheo hissed.
Being familiar with Mattheo’s nickname for you seemed to wake Theo up a little, or at least both of his eyes were now open.
“She’s in the god damn walls man!” he ranted on “she’s trying to drive me insane! Putting dreams in my head! I always thought she was a legilimens but this fucking proves it! I need to test out my blocking, try me go!”
Mattheo’s scrunched his eyebrows and narrowed his gaze in concentration, awaiting Theo’s mental intrusion, Theo thought he looked like he was about to go cross-eyed.
The exasperated Italian began firmly rubbing his face with his hands, trying his very best not to throttle his emotionally inept friend for his stupidity, and deciding on the gentle approach for now.
“So you think about her all the time?” Theo asked, voice slightly muffled from the hands on his face.
“Yes”
“And you have just woken ME up-from a very pleasant dream mind you-because you dreamed about her?”
“Yes”
“And am I correct to assume this dream was erotic in nature?” Theo said, now peeking one eye through his long fingers to glance at Mattheo’s half hard cock in his sleep boxers.
Thankfully shared sexual encounters weren’t anything new to the group, so this was of no issue, even if Mattheo’s cheeks turned a little pink from the observation.
“That’s how birds drive you insane Theo” Mattheo said, his tone gravely seriousness “they get in through the cock”
Theo was certain that the truth could bite Mattheo on the ass and hold on and he still wouldn’t notice.
Mumbling some profanities in Italian and what Mattheo believed to be a small “why me” into his hands that were firmly rubbing his face, Theo took a calming breath, and needing his beauty sleep he decided to cut to the chase.
“You fucking like her you idiota! And by the sound and…shape of it” glancing down at Mattheo’s half masked boxers again “you like her a lot, so you should probably do something about it before someone steals her from you…and to save me from your morning wood”.
With the end of the revelation, Theo face planted his head back into the peace and quiet of the pillows and pulled the blanket over, signalling the end of the conversation, hoping Mattheo would take his love life elsewhere for a few hours, or at least till he had some coffee in him to deal with his idiot.
Mattheo however was left gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing with a defence that never came.
Because maybe he couldn’t lie to himself anymore, he liked you...shit he might even be obsessed with you.
There were those times when he would catch you sneaking out for a midnight fly, broom and practice snitch in hand, he would never step forward out of his shadows, the thick silence of the night seeming too solid to break. Instead, he would lean quietly at his smoking spot, brown doe eyes sharp as they watched you creep out of the castle.
The first time was an accident, a stroke of luck catching you, but from then on he made a habit to take a smoke break in that same spot and time.
Once you determined you were in the clear you would roll your neck, breath the crisp night air deeply into your chest, and let your posture ease in a way he’s never seen from you before, as if you were loosening something tightly bound deep inside you, Mattheo was desperately curious as to what that was.
You always had the air of control on yourself, he admired that about you. You weren’t a control freak like his brother, no, this was different kind of control.
You still laughed, smiled, and argued (especially with him), the bickering always bordered on friendly/irritation/flirty, a witty back and forth that he enjoyed far more then he cared to admit.
You still pulled a face at your breakfast when the Ravenclaw table ran out of blueberries for your porridge, sighed a dreamy smile on that first sip of your morning coffee, and beamed when you got your test scores back in charms, you didn’t hide every emotion to gain control, you were stronger than that, too human for that.
It was your anger and hurt that you held tightly.
Mattheo had seen you angry before, he’d seen you cut down that twat McClaggan in the halls when he said something misogynistic and thick headed, your words cruelly precis as you picked him to pieces in front of his dickhead friends, eyes cold and mocking fury.
Draco, Enzo, and Mattheo were standing off to the side, on the way to potions when they stopped to watch the show.
When you loudly said “Maybe if you used Engorgio on your dick you’d be able to wank with more than just your pointer and thumb” proceeding to pinch your finger and thumb together to demonstrate, they keeled over laughing, Enzo shot pumpkin juice out of his nose.
When you were mad he could see you use it, refine it, polish it, wield it like a blade of silver tongue to cut right to the heart, so well that it made him think you were put in the wrong house.
When you were hurt you covered it with indifference and calm, smothering your pain before it people could see it. When your shit head ex had been caught cheating, he was walking in stride with you down the hall, teasing about the upcoming quidditch game between your houses.
“You know there’s no shame in bowing out sweetheart” he said in a teasing voice leaning in a little too close, fuck he loved how you look with that playful fire in your eyes. “I’m sure even your little boyfriend would understand you wanting to wear my jersey and cheer me on”. Good God he hated your boyfriend, like REALLY hated your boyfriend.
You looked up at him then, eyes bright, smirk in place, ready to unload a good amount of snark that he definitely wasn’t going to be turned on by, but as you rounded the corner you came to a dead holt, eyes now straight ahead where speak of the devil, your little boyfriend had some Hufflepuff in the year below pressed to a wall as he tried to eat her face, in what Mattheo can say is the most revolting kiss he’d ever seen.
He saw that pain flash in your eyes for a second, the look of hurt and betrayal on your face made his chest ache, but that was all you let slip before you buried it deep within you, bounding it with an iron grip and pushing your head high once more and clentching your fists. Before Mattheo could get a word out you made your play.
“God If that’s how you look when you kiss me you really have done me a favour”
The couple sprang apart; your-well I guess now ex-boyfriend Luke-looking panicked at being caught.
“Baby! Hey, no no it’s not what yo-“ but before he could even finish his half assed insulting lie you wordlessly flicked your wand (that Mattheo didn’t even register you get out) in his direction, muting his insulting voice and sent a stinging hex on him, he ran away yelping silently at the stinging nettle like pain.
Fuck Mattheo thought it was so hot when you’re ruthless like that.
You turned your attention to the girl who was still pressed against the wall in shock, the distain on your face softened slightly, she however looked terrified, Mattheo couldn’t blame her especially after watching you handle your ex-boyfriend so swiftly.
But to his surprise your wand lowered, fixing her with a stern look instead.
“You can do better”
The Hufflepuff seemed shocked that she wasn’t sent half way up the hallway with a stinging jinx herself for a moment, but then lowered her head in shame, nodding at your words and slinked away.
“(Y/n)” he started, voice tender in a way you hadn’t heard it before, if you weren’t too busy trying not to cry out of absolute embarrassment you would of paid more attention to how nice your name sounds on his tongue.
“Don’t think this will get me off my game for the match Mattheo” you replied, a light chuckle in your voice and to your credit only sounding a little watery.
Before he had the chance to reach for you, tuck your head under his chin, hold you tight to his chest like you always belonged there, and tell you how much of a fucking moron your ex is, how stunningly cleaver, beautiful, and devastatingly brilliant you’ve always been-you turned on your heal quick as lighting and walked away-but not before Mattheo saw the tears running down your pretty face.
You were still softer in the days following, your light seemed to be a bit dimmed but you kept up the appetences well, not giving the wanker the satisfaction of thinking he had any impact on you.
But when Mattheo managed to catch your ex alone in a corridor late one night and had a little chat that sent him to the hospital wing for a few days, you brightened up again. Even though Mattheo was cunning enough to not avoid detection and punishment, you obviously knew who was responsible.
You wordlessly slid a few of your homemade brownies across the desk in transfiguration the next day, it was the best fucking thing he’s ever tasted, he could only fucking pray, hope, and dream about you melting on his tongue just the same.
But yesterday was different, this wasn’t your usual anger and hurt, this one bit back as you pushed in down.
Mattheo had noticed it over the last year or so, how your letters from home often left you stilled and quiet while reading them, the white of your knuckles as you gripped your coffee mug, a sadness flicking across your face for a moment before you covered it, you cover it well, but he was watching you, and he never missed it.
He wanted to tear those god-awful letters up, put his cigarettes out on them and burn them to ash for taking away your morning peace, wiping that pretty smile off your face.
Yesterday morning the post came in, interrupting the chatter of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw game tomorrow, Mattheo kept his eyes trained on you as usual, trying to analysis your tells, and while the extra bowl of blueberries placed conveniently at your spot on the Ravenclaw table (don’t believe a word Winky says he had nothing to do with it) had left you smiling into your porridge, with a small happy dance as you added them in, it all came to a still when a letter landed in front of you.
This letter wasn’t invoking your anger, it wasn’t even hurt…this was fear. Something Mattheo has never seen that in you before, it tore him in half.
Your chest started to rise and fall in shallow breaths, your hands holding the letter were trembling, your skin noticeably palled, tears welled in your eyes as you starred at the letter like it was burning your hand but couldn’t release it, you hadn’t even opened it yet.
Who the fuck was this? Who the fuck thinks they have the right to make you feel like this? His fucking girl. He’ll kill them, he’ll rip them apart with his bare fucking hands and teeth, make them bleed, apologise, and beg at your feet for forgiveness while he waits for your permission to finish them off.
All these thoughts were rushing through his head as he stood, intending to rip the letter out of your hands and hold you, shielding you from it, take you somewhere it can never find you.
As if sensing his movement your eyes shoot up to him, the fear dulling into shock at his worried expression, you open your mouth like you were going to say something to him, he could make out the start of his name on your lips before you sealed them shut, grabbing the letter and rushing out of the hall before he could catch you.
Mattheo searched for you the whole day, even asked Lovegood to check Ravenclaw tower for him, but to no avail, his little raven knew how to hide.
Which brings us back to the present, Mattheo beating away rouge bludgers while pretending he isn’t distracted by you, which was difficult considering you were catching the light just right and he was still worried sick after not seeing you since you slipped out of the great hall yesterday morning.
But even with whatever rattled you (and him) yesterday, no one could tell by your playing. You were fucking good, cutting across the sky with precise grace, as if the wind knew you as an old friend and was welcoming you home.
Blue and green darted across the pitch, the rain making it even more impossible to see through the mess of flyers, Mattheo was flanking Draco as he scanned the murky sky for the shimmering snitch.
Slytherin was ahead, by 100 points no less, but they all knew that if the snitch was out there, Ravenclaw still had a chance. They needed to end this, quickly with the weather getting worse, and you were on the move too.
Draco and you sored higher and higher, trying to get a good vantage point to spot the snitch in this mess, hoping the lighting would reflect some of its light, like a beacon calling home. That’s when Mattheo spotted the bludger hurdling straight up, sent to knock Dray off his broom, but to his dreaded panic, was getting closer and closer to you.
Mattheo was quicker than the lighting at that moment, speeding in-between you two and slamming it back down with even more force before it could hit its target.
“Cheers Matt” yelled Draco over the wind, not realizing he wasn’t in any real danger, still scanning for the snitch. Mattheo was about to yell something in return, but then his gazed found yours.
You were truly beautiful like this, the hair wisping out of your braid whipping in the cold wind, cheeks flushed, eyes slightly narrowed in concentration, and bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you mapped out the next move. You always seemed to have a wilder energy up here in the sky, as if the bird really had been let out of her cage.
Now seemed like as good as a time as ever to get under your skin, an excuse to hear your regular snark to reassure you were alright.
“Lovely view from up here huh little raven?” He called to you.
“You know if you wanted to be closer to me in action, you could of just wore my jersey in the stands” he said winking at you, grin in place.
“Then what would Potter wear?” you shot back.
The halo of hair around your face making you look like some kind of storm spirt, relishing in the bellowing thunder going off around you, that’s his girl, his crazy, ruthless, brilliant, lovely fucking girl.
Mattheo grinned and barked a laugh at your remark; you always gave it as good as you got it. Fuck he loved it, he couldn’t go a day without hearing your voice lately, you were away sick for a few days and Enzo said it was like watching someone go through withdrawals.
“Just admit it love, you’re falling for me” he replied, arms opening in a dramatic gesture to himself, trying to ignore the erratic beating of his heart, he tells himself he’s just glad you’re feeling your regular self to bater with him.
You rolled your eyes at him, a scoff and another snarky remark loaded, but something snagged your attention close to the ground, not enough to move your head in its direction, but enough for a pause of calculation before you looked at him again, smirk in place.
“I’m falling for you am I?” you replied, your tone and look full of something Mattheo couldn’t quite place. It made him nervous for some reason.
“Obviously” he teasingly jested, although uneasy with the softness of your smile and the knowing look in your eyes, something didn’t feel right.
He subconsciously inched his broom closer to you, he was about a foot away when you spoke calmly, gaze locked, knowing something he doesn’t, voice soft as you spoke.
“Catch me then”
You then fell sideways off your broom.
Half a second of shock.
Mattheo thinks he might of screamed.
Then dove right after you Instead.
You were falling fast, in an elegant dive as you plummeted towards the ground, and astonishingly, somehow no one had noticed yet, too busy watching the swarm of players bellow to comprehend the terror above.
Mattheo was hot on your tail reaching out to snag your leg, but you seemed hell bent on not letting him save you. Your freefall was that bit faster than him on his broom, he was pushing his weight further and further forward, with you tragically just out of his grasp.
Being preoccupied with preventing a ‘you shaped hole’ in the ground, he didn’t even notice your broom sweeping around the wave of quidditch players to beat you to the bottom.
It was about 40 meters above the other players when people spotted your plummet, the gasp of excitement from the crowd soon turned to one of horror when they realized the Ravenclaw seeker was flying broomless.
The alarmed roar of the crowd made the swarm of players look up, and just in time to see you diving down in the small gap between the mess of them. So small that a broom wouldn’t even fit properly, at least not without clipping someone.
But all Mattheo could see was his girl, his beautiful, sharp, kind, brilliant, smart girl. The girl who would always give his attitude right back, the girl who wasn’t scared of his family’s reputation, the girl who squatted down next to a lost teary eyes 1st year Slytherin and offered to walk him to his next class, the girl who went on midnight rides to be truly free of something Mattheo hadn’t even come close to understanding.
The girl, that during a particularly pointed exchange a few years ago rolled her and said “Good god you are just..”
“Let me guess” Mattheo cut you off sharply, anticipating your response but couldn’t bear to hear it from your lips “Just like my father? Yeah that gets old (yln)”
The irritation washed off your face in an instant, replaced with a still grave seriousness it made Mattheo’s breath hitch.
You took a step closer, so close he could lean down and bump his scared nose to yours if he dared.
“We are nothing like our fathers Mattheo Riddle” you said, finger pointed at his chest to emphasise your point, “And fuck anyone who tries to tells us we are”
Your voice so full of feeling it made his chest hurt
That was the first time Mattheo has been told that.
And Mattheo was going to lose her right before his very eyes, because he still couldn’t catch her.
“MOVE!” He roared, the players creating a bigger hole for him to follow you through.
In his peripherals, he caught Lorenzo, Theo and Blaise hot on his trail behind him, following him in his need to save you. You were 30 meters away from the ground, still falling so fast.
He couldn’t catch you, this was it, he couldn’t save you, he couldn’t save anyone, he never even got to tell you how he loved you. Mattheo could feel his heart ripping itself to shreds already, refusing to stay without you, plummeting to the ground right with you.
Four meters from the ground, that’s when it happened.
Your broom-that you ingeniously enchanted to follow you in these practiced freefalls of yours-caught around the back of your knees for you to lock firmly on to, which only hurt a little (a lot), dipping a meter with you before steadying with you safely attached.
The entire stadium held its breath, you however, were now dangling upside down, hair loose from the fall flowing past your face, and with the snitch clutched tightly in your right hand.
A beat of dead silence, even the rain and wind seemed to hold pause, and then, total uproar.
The crowd went mental, every house blown away by your daring feet, Ravenclaws losing their mind in the insane win and relief of the survival of their seeker, Fliterwick looked like he was about to faint. Even the Slytherin stands were clapping heartfully, relived to not see a gruesome death on the pitch and impressed at your tricky little fake out.
You didn’t even bother to pull yourself up on your broom, instead shifting into a better position to drop the tiny bit down onto your feet. You wore the biggest smile, chest heaving air after the breathless plunge, holding the snitch proudly in your hand.
Your teammates swarmed you first, shaking you with excitement and shock, pulling you into relived hugs and hair ruffles, celebrating the daring win.
Mattheo however was furious with you.
Landing and throwing his broom aside he stormed his way through players in your direction, he vaguely heard Blaise call out to him, but it was hard to tell with the ringing in his ears, even you’re your team knew to step aside a little. When your eyes met his they were filled with a surprise at his demeanour, and then, all be it, guilt. “Look before you get mad I didn’t think you would actually try to catc-“ but you didn’t get to finish your sentence, as Mattheo yanked you firmly by waist and kissed you.
Mattheo kisses hard, you could taste every bit of emotion on his tongue. The fury, the worry, the relief, and the love he was desperately trying to tell you. It felt more exhilarating than any freefall. He clutched you tightly, like he was afraid that you would fly out of his arms if he let you go again. One arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your body ever so close, and the other on your face, right above your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your soft skin, reassuring himself that you were truly there and in one piece.
With your bodies so close, you could fee his heart beating erratically through his chest, the stress of your freefall still apparent in the way he clutched you like a lifeline. With one hand clutching his delicious curls, you moved the other hand from his face to rub soothingly over his chest. You’re here, your safe, you’re okay, you think at him, soothing his erratic pulse.
When you finally separated, he kept his forehead pressed to yours, eyes boring into your soul, both hands now fully cupping your head possessively.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again little raven” he said, tone grave and serious, but you could see the underlining playfulness in his eyes.
“Well if it gets you to kiss me like that I just might have to” you replied, with your usual revel of playful snark unable to resist pushing his buttons, albeit a little breathless from the kiss.
“Keep it up and I’ll have to do a lot more then just kiss you”. A shiver ran down your spine at his words, the predatory gleam in his eye begging you to keep the attitude up. But you were still in the middle of the quidditch pitch, and you could tell by the look on his face, he was still a bit worried for you.
“Meet me later” you said, rubbing small circles on his chest reassuringly, as your team started to usher everyone from the pitch, your kiss somehow going unnoticed amongst all the craziness of the win.
Mattheo nodded but couldn’t find it in himself to release you from his grip, he doesn’t know if he ever can.
“And thank you” your voice soft, eyes tender and earnest “Thank you for trying to catch me”.
Author's Note
AHHHH If you made it this far I really hoped you enjoyed, thank you for bearing with the spelling gramma/mistakes! Much love my dears!
I also wanted to tag one of my favourite writers, the amazing @viperify, if you haven't checked out their work do yourself a favour and take a gander!! Absolutely heart and pussy thobbing stuff 10/10
Also this is intellectual property of @thatonecomfyjumper please do not copy, translate, or claim works as your own.
Fuck AI, write bad, and write human. Don't take that away from yourself or anyone else.
“Take a picture mate, it’ll last longer,” Mattheo says, collapsing onto the sofa next to his brooding friend.
Theo looks at the boy next to him in annoyance. Mattheo had been meant to meet him in the library thirty minutes ago, and while he was waiting on his habitually late friend, he’d been forced to watch the love of his life practically sit on bloody Cormac McLaggen’s lap. What you saw in that boy, Theo had no idea.
Theo had fancied you for what felt like forever to him at that point, and it’s not like he was exactly subtle about it. At least he didn’t think he was being subtle, but ask any of his friends and they’d say that holding eye contact from across the room for over 3 seconds did not count as a declaration of love. But what did they know. Not that it mattered anyway because somehow, he’d managed to lose you to the toadstool that the Gryffindor house claimed to be a fully functioning wizard.
“I wasn’t staring,” he mutters defensively, breaking his steady glare away unconvincingly.
“Sure you weren’t. How is little y/n anyway? Haven’t seen much of her since she and ole McLaggen started snogging and such,” Mattheo responds easily, an amused grin spreading across his face as he watched his friend tense.
“Fuck off. Don’t remind me.”
With a silent snicker, Mattheo leaned back in his chair. Ever since you had started going out with Cormac, it had been increasingly easy for Mattheo to ruffle Theo’s feathers. The boy really had been taken with you for months now, and Mattheo simply saw this as payback for all the hours he’d been forced to listen to Theo’s rather pathetic pining. She doesn’t even know I exist this, and we made eye contact for a whole 7 seconds that. You’d managed to bring the ever stoic Theodore Nott to his bloody knees, and you didn’t even know it.
“So, about that charms homework…” Mattheo says eventually, breaking Theo’s blazing gaze away from you and Cormac once more.
“No time. Carter should be here any minute since you, are thirty minutes late.”
Mattheo raises an eyebrow.
“You’re still gonna tutor that little gremlin? Thought you were just trying to get on y/n’s good side. No point now eh?”
For the past few month or so, Theo had been tutoring your younger brother in charms and transfiguration and, while Mattheo was right about his initial intentions, the little bugger had slowly grown on him. Like a fungus.
Theo shrugs noncommittally as he spots the young Slytherin from across the library.
“Not just gonna let Carter fail. He’s a good kid.” He mumbles.
“Aw Teddy, you’ve gone soft,” Mattheo teases as his eyes follow the young boy making his way excitedly towards them.
Making a face at his friend, Theo tosses a scroll of parchment across the table and Mattheo reaches out to snatch it.
“Get outta here ya tosser.”
With one last smirk, Mattheo rises lazily from their place on the sofas, nodding once at Carter who sidles up to him before making his escape, a completed charms essay successfully secured.
“Hi Theodore!” Carter greets, swinging his bag onto the sofa next to Theo before climbing up himself.
“Hey buddy, what’re we working on today?” Theo asks, a fond smile growing on his face as the young boy makes himself comfortable.
Usually Theo wasn’t one for children of any sort. He found them to be, sticky. But Carter almost reminded him of a younger version of himself. Feisty and energetic with a sharp tongue. The pair honestly got on like a house on fire and Theo actually looked forward to their tutoring sessions.
“Levitating charms,” Carter replies with a look of disgust. “Ew. Is that Cormac and y/n?” He asks, spotting his sister across the library.
Matching Carter’s face of disgust, Theo nods his head in confirmation, pulling out his own charms book.
“He’s the bloody worst. I wish y/n would date someone cool for once. She has a talent for always picking the worst ones. I heard Cormac say he wants to see what’s under y/n’s skirt once, so I told him that the only way he was going to get laid was by crawling up a chicken’s arse and waiting. He didn’t like that. But his friends all thought it was funny. But then he locked me in a broom closet. But it was fine cause Enzo found me a few minutes later and beat Cormac’s arse for me,” Carter rambles, flipping through the pages of his textbook.
Salazar, for a second year, this kid was certainly mouthy, Theo thought.
“Think Enzo mentioned that to me actually.” He replies off-handedly.
“Yeah. He’s so cool. I think y/n used to have a crush on him a few years ago. Don’t tell her I said anything though. You’re cool too.” Carter says, looking down at his book. “Hey! Why don’t you date y/n? Then I could see you during holiday! Hopefully Cormac doesn’t stick long enough to make it to Christmas. I don’t want him to stink up the house.”
Theo feels his cheeks begin to redden at the boy’s statement and he begins to stutter. Damn he hoped his filter wasn’t this bad when he was twelve.
“Let’s just get back to the lesson,” he mumbles, hoping to redirect the young boy.
Lucky for him, Carter obliges, allowing the older boy to guide him through the precise wand movements essential to the spell in question.
“Windgardimum leviosum”
“Wingardinum liviosa”
“Windgarnium leviosauarasurausrus.”
“Now you’re just making words up,” Theo laughs as the boy fails to pronounce the spell correctly for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Because I am!” The boy says with frustration.
“Hey, c’mon, it’s fine okay. Ready? Win.”
“Win”
“Gaurd”
“Gaurd.”
“E-um”
“E-um”
“Wingardium”
“Wingardium”
“Nice! Now the second part. Lev.”
“Lev”
“E-o-sa”
“E-o-sa”
“Leviosa”
“Leviosa.”
“Great. Now put it together.”
“Wingardium Leviosa.”
“Perfect, now add the wand movements,” Theo instructs.
Moments later, Carter has a textbook floating through the air with ease.
“So will you date my sister?” Carter asks as he slides his books back into his bag.
Theo chokes on air. It had been a bit over an hour and the two had perfected the boy’s levitating charms and worked on turning a flower into a teacup, so Theo had assumed that their previous conversation was all but forgotten to the younger boy. Apparently not.
“Sorry?” He splutters, looking over at his companion.
“My sister. Will you date her? I saw you get all red earlier so you must like her, at least a little,” the boy says nonchalantly as if pointing out the most obvious thing in the world.
Theo feels the heat rushing to his cheeks once more.
“Look little man, I appreciate the support, but it’s not really entirely up to me to decide. Your sister is taken,” Theo tries to reason.
The boy just shrugs.
“We’ll just have to break em up then. Cormac is dumb as rocks, so it’s not like it’ll be hard,” he replies.
Theo can barely hold in his laughter. Salazar this kid was great.
“You know what Carter, if you can break those two up, yeah, I’ll ask out y/n,” he says, patting the young boy on the back.
“Deal.” Carter says, sticking out his hand. “But don’t think I don’t know that I’m doing you a favor too. I’ve seen you stare at my sister. Oh. And if I need help plotting, you have to help me too.”
Damn this kid was good. A right and proper Slytherin.
“Deal.” Theo replies, shaking the boys hand.
As he’s leaving the library, he hears Carter’s voice ring out.
“Hey Cormac! The village called and said they want their idiot back, so you better get going!”
Salazar he’d really found himself the perfect ally he thought gleefully. With a final snicker, Theo pushed open the library doors and headed back down to the dungeons.
You watch with silent amusement from the entrance of the Great Hall as your younger brother once again made Cormac’s life a living disaster, sending pumpkin juice flying all over the older boy’s robes. For the past week or so, you’d noticed your brother sabotaging your boyfriend’s every move with varying levels of discretion; from tripping him in the halls, causing him to trip into you, to sticking him to his chair in the library during a study date.
At first you’d found it annoying as you’d known your brother didn’t like your boyfriend, but thought he didn’t have to make the boy miserable. But then, as you were passing by what you thought was an empty classroom, you’d heard your brother’s voice whispering to one Theodore Nott.
“Do you think it would be too far to just get him expelled? If I have to see him snog my sister one more time, I’ll release one of Hagrid’s beasts on him myself!” You’d heard Carter exclaim, followed by Theo’s low chuckle.
“Easy there little basilisk. Let’s not get the guy expelled, as aggravating as he might be.”
You’d never really spoken to Theo much in the past, and aside from brief eye contact from across the classroom, you really couldn’t remember interacting with the boy at all. But he’d begun tutoring your brother a few months ago, and Carter would not stop going on about the boy. You knew your brother was quite picky with his friends, and very difficult to impress, so to be so taken with the bloke. You knew Theodore had to be something special. You’d started noticing him more after that, dark and broody, but also sharp witted and fiercely loyal to his group of Slytherins. Not to mention ridiculously handsome.
You subconsciously take a step closer, listening to the two boys.
“I don’t understand why she likes him. He’s so dumb. And mean. He’s always picking on me and my friends when y/n isn’t around. And he thinks he’s so cool because he’s a bloody Gryffindor. I don’t know why she wouldn’t just date you in the first place. You’re the best,” you hear Carter grumble as you feel yourself blush.
You hear Theo laugh again. “Let’s finish this chapter and then you can continue plotting Cormac’s demise okay?” You hear him say.
“Fine. Do you think y/n will break up with him if he smells? I wanna hide a dung beetle in his robes.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea. Now- quill pen into a telescope, let’s go.” Theo says with a snort.
After that, you’d begun to take your brother’s words to heart, noticing Cormac’s rash reactions towards the younger students, and loud outbursts whenever something didn’t go his way. You’d always assumed Carter was just goading at your boyfriend, but maybe he had a point.
Breaking away from your usual group of friends, you divert your attention to your younger brother who was now sitting alone at the long green and silver table on the other side of the hall.
“Morning Carter,” you greet, sitting down next to him at Slytherin table, quiet chatter filling the Great Hall.
“Didn’t want to sit next to your boyfriend covered in pumpkin juice?” Your brother asks innocently, taking a sip from his own pumpkin juice filled glass.
“Mm. I saw.” You respond dryly, side eyeing your brother as you filled your plate.
“It was an accident.”
“I’m sure. So, how are your tutoring sessions going? Mum and dad gonna be on you next holiday?” You ask.
“No way. Theo has me getting top marks on all my assignments. He’s the best,” Carter brags.
“Yeah? You seem to like him. A lot more than Cormac that’s for sure.” You comment.
“Well duh. Theo’s like, one of the coolest blokes in Slytherin, and Cormac is one of the biggest tossers in the whole school. Bit of an insult to even compare Theo to that wank-cloth to be honest.”
You struggle to maintain your composure, holding in your laughter, and before you’re able to probe your brother any further, a plate is plonked down across the table.
“Carter! My favorite little second year!” Enzo says brightly, taking his seat.
“Enzo it’s too early for you to be this cheery. No one is that cheery at 7:30 am let’s reel it in,” Mattheo groans, sitting down on Carter’s other side.
“Theo!” Carter exclaims as the brown haired boy takes his spot across from you.
“What’s up little man, how’d that charms exam go?”
“I got the top score in my class,” your brother responds proudly as you gaze across the table at his tutor.
Theo really was handsome.
Quickly shaking the thoughts from your head, you force yourself to zone back into the conversation.
“I remember being in second year charms,” Mattheo was saying.
“No you don’t, you never showed up,” Enzo snorts.
“Shut up pretty boy.”
“Speaking of second year. Where are your friends in second year?” You interrupt, suddenly realizing that your brother was in fact surrounded by a whole gang of sixth years.
“They’re all scared of them,” Carter shrugs nonchalantly, gesturing towards the boys around you.
Mattheo’s jaw drops open in mock offense.
“I can assure you y/n, we are prime role models for young Slytherins.” He says.
“Didn’t you and Draco just get a detention for sending a hoard of rabid pygmie puffs after a group of firsties?” Carter asks, taking a large bite of his eggs.
“Minor details.”
“Right. Note to self, Theodore is the only one of you to be left alone with Carter. Got it.” You joke, almost missing the tinge of red in Theo’s cheeks as he ducks his head, suddenly very interested in his breakfast.
“That’s fine with me. Theo skips class all the time too, so I won’t be missing much,” Carter says matter of factly as he proceeds to drown his pancakes and eggs in syrup.
Now it’s Theo’s turn to drop his jaw at the young boy.
“Little snitch, you said you wouldn’t bring that up,” he says, throwing a bit of his toast at your younger brother.
Carter just laughs, tossing sticky egg right back.
“That’s on you for trusting a twelve year old, I can’t be held responsible for my actions, I’m just a kid,” he replies, sticking his tongue out at his tutor.
You watch the scene before you play out, a smile growing on your face.
“Oh he’s going to make Slytherin house proud,” Mattheo says with a grin as Theo proceeds to throw a bit of muffin back your brother’s way.
“Woah woah woah there Theodore, leave y/n’s brother alone,” a voice says from behind you.
You turn to see Cormac approaching the table, dried pumpkin juice still staining the front of his shirt.
“Piss off Cormac,” Mattheo tells him, a scowl quickly taking over his face.
“Don’t think I will. Can’t stand by and watch my girlfriend’s brother get bullied,” he says, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. His gesture might’ve been nice a week ago, but at the moment you wanted to hurl.
“Right. Like you weren’t the one who locked Carter in a broom closet the other day you bloody bastard. How’d you like a replay of our little encounter?” Enzo sneers, going to rise from his seat only to be sat back down by Theo.
“I’m sorry, you did what?” You ask, fury rising in you as you whip around to face your boyfriend-for-not-much-longer.
“Relax, it was just some man to man bonding,” Cormac says, giving Carter a pat on the head. Carter smacks his hand away.
“Salazar Cormac, are you always this stupid, or do you just show off when we’re around? Get lost,” Theo says, the annoyance clear in his voice.
“Yeah! If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I’d just fart!” Carter adds, glaring up at the boy with crossed arms.
With a scowl, Cormac sneers at the group of Slytherin boys glaring right back at him before giving your shoulder a tug.
“C’mon then y/n. You shouldn’t be hanging out with this filth anyway,” he practically growls.
You frown at the Gryffindor. What on Earth had made you like this boy? The mix of sheer embarrassment, disgust, and rage sends a shiver down your spine.
“Fuck of Cormac. We are so, so done. And my brother isn’t filth.” You snap, abruptly turning your back on him.
You’re met with a satisfied smirk on Theo’s face as the other boys jeer at Cormac as he stomps away.
“Bloody hell, who let me stay with that tosser for so long?” You mutter, stabbing at one of your sausages.
“Not to say I told you so, but I totally told you so,” Carter says through a mouthful of egg.
“Point very well taken.”
The five of you eat in silence for a moment, but when you look up, you see Carter mouthing something furiously at Theo who looks mortified.
“What’re you two on about?” You ask, breaking the silence as you glance back and forth between the two boys.
“Yeah Theo, what are we on about?” Carter says pointedly at the older boy.
Mattheo and Enzo, now also fully invested, look between Carter and Theodore as well, a sinister grin spreading across Mattheo’s face as realization grows.
“Oh I think I have a good idea of what they’re on about,” he says, taking on a playful tone.
“Don’t you start.” Theo grumbles.
You look blankly between the boys as they seem to be having a silent conversation amongst themselves.
“Well this has been lovely really. So glad you all got a front row seat to the drama that is my life, but I think it’s time I head out,” you say finally when none of the boys speak up.
As if coming to a stalemate, four heads turn to you, and you leave to a chorus of “Bye, y/n’s and see you laters.”
You found yourself once again seated in the library, scribbling away on your DADA assignment. It had been a bit over a week since you’d dropped Cormac and you’d forgotten how bloody nice it was to not be constantly dragged down by him when studying. As you continue to scratch away at your parchment, a loud thud shakes you out of your focus.
“What’s up sissy?” Carter says, his bag joining his large stack of books on the table as he makes himself comfortable in the chair next to you. “Matt over here!” He whisper tells, gesturing frantically to the curly haired boy who was quickly making his way over to you.
“Ah y/n! Perfect timing! Been such a pleasure chatting with you for the last several hours eh?” He says, sliding into the seat across from you.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
“Huh?”
Just then, a miffed looking Theo bursts through the library door, eyes quickly zoning in on Mattheo and your brother.
“What did you two do?” You hiss as the boy begins stalking over.
“Nothing!” Carter says quickly.
You glare at the two boys.
“We might have allegedly started a small fire in the dorms,” Mattheo grumbles, trying to look invested in one of the random textbooks that had been strewn across the table.
“You did what?” You whisper yell across the table.
“Allegedly!” He emphasizes, still not looking up.
“I know it was you two. And also probably Enzo.” Theo states unamusedly, walking up to the table, arms crossed.
“Us? We would never! We’ve been here studying with y/n this whole time!” Mattheo says, looking very offended for someone who was in fact guilty of what Theo was accusing.
“Yeah?” Theo asks. “You’ve been here reading Advanced Love Spells in the third edition?” Theo says, raising an eyebrow as he gestures to the book Mattheo was holding.
“Uh, yeah,” Mattheo responds.
“Really? Because it’s upside down,” Theo replies, snatching the book and turning it right side up before giving it back to Mattheo.
“I enjoy a challenge.” Mattheo retorts, doubling down as he snaps the volume shut.
Theo just dead stares his friend for a moment before sighing and slumping into the last remaining seat.
“I’m not covering for you if Snape asks me who did it.” He says eventually.
“But you won’t snitch?”
Theo glares at his friend.
“Don’t insult me.” He grumbles. Then turning towards Carter. “I’m advising to Snape that I begin tutoring you in potions too before you burn the entire castle down,” he tells him.
Carter just grins bashfully.
“Great! Now that that’s all settled, I’ll be off. Y/n, pleasure as always. Boys.” And with one last nod, and a sarcastic salute, Mattheo is off.
“One day, I’m going to murder him, and drop his body in the Black Lake,” Theo says under his breath.
“Alright. Which one of you is going to explain?” You ask, looking sternly between the two boys you were left with.
Before Theo has the chance to get a word in, Carter shoots up.
“I just remembered that I need to get a book for our tutoring session tonight! Be right back!” He exclaims, running off.
“Well I suppose that answers that,” Theo mutters.
“Are my parents going to get an owl? And if so, how bad will the howler be on a scale of 1-10?”
“I don’t think they’ll be owled. If anything, Matt will take the fall for the three of them,” Theo assures you.
“So what exactly happened?”
“Not entirely sure, but from what I gathered, Matt and Enzo decided that they would be able to help your brother with his potions homework, proceeded to forget about the cauldron sitting on an open flame, and then had the audacity to be surprised when a stack of parchment caught fire because Matt’s side of the dorm is a mess.”
You purse your lips.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m so sorry. You share a room with them don’t you?”
Theo nods his head.
“How’d you know that?”
“Carter hasn’t shut up about you since you started tutoring him.” You reply with an awkward laugh. “Thanks for doing it by the way. And for letting him hang around you lot. He seems so much happier lately.”
A small smile appears on Theo’s face.
“We like having him around. Kid’s a spitfire. And an excellent alibi. Not that we’d ever get him into trouble,” he says quickly.
You let out a light laugh.
“I’m very sure that Carter would find trouble with or without you lot. He tends to go looking for it.”
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you wait for Carter to return, and you try to turn your focus back to your assignment. It’s significantly harder to concentrate you find however, with the handsome Slytherin sitting across from you fingering idly through one of the textbooks he’d picked up.
“Someone’s deep in thought.”
Theo’s voice jolts you into the present, and you blush knowing he’d definitely caught you staring.
“Just annoyed with this bloody DADA assignment,” you mumble, hoping he hadn’t realized just how long you’d been staring.
“Did it earlier. It’s a bit of a snooze.”
You nod your head in agreement.
“Would you want to work on it together sometime?” He asks suddenly, words practically tumbling from his mouth.
You look up at the boy in surprise.
“Um, I’m not sure a really need a tutor…” you say trailing off.
Theo gives you a lopsided grin, shaking his head a bit.
“I meant as a study date.”
You feel yourself blush for what feels like the thousandth time.
“Oh. Then yes. I’d like that.” You say, holding back the huge grin that was threatening to take over your face.
“I’m back!” Carter sings, skipping his way back to the table and effectively ending the moment. “Was that enough time for you to ask her out? I can only stare at those dusty shelves for so long before I start going crazy.”
Your jaw drops as you turn to your brother.
“Did you really just set me up?”
“Duh. Christmas is only a few weeks away, and you clearly don’t have good judgment. I can’t risk having to see some stinky loser over break! And Mattheo said Theo’s had a crush on you since forever, so it was really a win for everybody.”
Now it was Theo’s turn to look embarrassed and offended.
“You didn’t need to tell her the last bit,” he hissed at your brother.
Carter just shrugs in response.
“This is what you two get for putting a twelve year old in charge of your love lives.”
“Carter, I don’t think either of us put you in charge of our love life,” you tell your all too satisfied younger brother.
“Well you should’ve. I got better results in a couple weeks than you two did in sixteen years.”
And that’s a wrap! I know I strayed from the rec a tad bit, but hopefully I did your request justice🫶🏽 Anyway, live laugh love Carter🙌🏽
Divination was stupid. Theo knew it. Enzo knew it. But unfortunately for the two of them, Daphne Greengrass did not. She was quite the believer in fact—spending hours charting stars to gauge compatibility, gazing into her crystal ball, and practicing her palm reading. A load of bollocks and a complete waste of time in Theo's opinion, but, he wasn't a monster and so he humored his friend, content in blocking out Professor Trelawney's incessant babbling for an hour at the start of his mornings.
Theo was just admiring how particularly gray the walls of the castle were looking this fine afternoon when a sharp elbow to the ribs pulls his attention back to the old bat's class. Theo shoots a glare Enzo's way as he rubs his wounded ribcage pointedly. To only further his agitation, Theo notices that Trelawney is now stood directly in front of him extending a deck of tarot cards to him as she blinks her wide owlish eyes at him expectantly.
With a deep sigh and a rather dramatic eye roll, Theo plucks a card from the deck and hands it back to the witch without even bothering to glance at it. Trelawney doesn't seem to mind much though as she inhales sharply, a grin that seemed much too wide for her face forming as she flips the card back to Theo.
"Yes, yes. Just as I predicted dear boy. Just as I predicted. The Two of Cups!" She announces proudly, brandishing the card out towards the class.
Daphne squeals.
"Oh Teddy—"
"Don't call me that."
Daphne ignores him.
"How exciting. How romantic," she continues, clearly far more interested in the pull than Theo was.
She pulls out a script of parchment, finger tracing down the lines of notes until she finds what she's searching for. Then she shoves the parchment under Theo's nose.
"Look there. The Two of Cups—signifies mutual attraction and deep connections. A representation of kindred spirits in the early stages of falling in love. That's so romantic," she gushes, continuing on in her notes.
Enzo snorts doing a horrible job trying to stifle his laughter. Theo glowers, not even wanting to deign such a ridiculous concept with a response. This was ludicrous. The whole thing. Theo had been attending Hogwarts for well long enough to know that there was not a single present student in the school that he would even dignify having a romantic relationship with. He can't help but shake his head and scoff at the mere idea.
"Oh lighten up Teddy, heaven forbid you let Daphne have this," Enzo snickers, clearly enjoying the discomfort the whole thing brought Theo.
It was easy for him to say. It wasn't his love life being carefully dissected by their mystic enthused friend.
Being the new student at any new school was always going to be nerve wracking. But being the new student at a new school in a whole new country was significantly worse in every aspect. Whispers float down the corridors, your name echoing off the high ceilings of the castle, and eyes flicker towards the ground as you pass as if they hadn't just been staring shamelessly the moment prior. Normally the stares wouldn't bother you much, but the constant hushed voices were beginning to be unnerving. Your lips tighten as you move swiftly through the halls and you can't help but feel a bit self conscious as you smooth out your unfamiliar, deep blue robes.
You weren't exactly enthusiastic about your new school to begin with. It was different—of course it would be—but no matter how much you had prepared yourself for all the changes, it just hadn't been enough. Like really, they let a ratty, old—albeit sentient—hat determine house placements? You hadn't wanted that thing anywhere near your head, but it just couldn't be helped. Then, once you had been placed into your house, you come to find that yours is the only one in the entire school that requires you to solve a freaking riddle just to get into your damn room. Asinine. And to top it all off, the wretched school was literally impossible to navigate because the staircases, apparently, were also sentient and did whatever the hell they wanted.
All that to say, when you finally collapse into a seat in the back of, what you hoped was the History of Magic classroom, you were more than a little miffed. With an agitated huff, you try to stay invisible as more students begin to file into the classroom, taking their seats closer to the front. As seats fill, the extra buffer of breathing room melts a bit of the tension in your shoulders. When your professor—a ghost you notice dryly—begins to write on the chalk board, you finally feel yourself start to relax, pulling out a roll of parchment from your bag and carefully copying down each line.
Just as you're about to finish—The Gargoyle Strike of 1911—the classroom door swings open once more and a boy with brown hair and dark, calculating eyes saunters in. You're content with giving him a quick, uninterested glance before getting back to your notes, but unfortunately for you, the boy is rapidly approaching. His bag hits the floor next to you with a dull thread and you feel your lips turn downward into a frown as you look up at the boy once more in annoyance.
You watch as the boy's mouth opens as if to say something, but then his eyes meet yours and you watch him freeze, mouth agape for a moment then two. Just as it's becoming a bit uncomfortable, he seems to awaken from his trance looking shaken, brows furrowing as if he were wondering why on Earth he was just standing there like a fool. Still though, he tilts his head awkwardly—chin gesturing towards the rest of the class—and for the first time you notice that every other seat in the room seems to be occupied. With a sigh of defeat, you wordlessly turn back to the board, preparing to scramble to write down whatever you'd missed just now, content with simply ignoring this boy's existence for the the rest of class.
"A 'wildcat strike' refers to a stopping of work by unionized workers without authorization from the union. In 1911 the wildcats were winning, meaning things were moving in favor of the gargoyles—"
Good god this was horrible. You weren't even ten minutes into your first day of this new class and you already wanted to throw yourself off the top of Ravenclaw tower. It seemed as though many of the other students in class felt similarly as one of the boys sitting a few rows in front of you lets out a concernedly loud snore. You have to choke down a snicker as your eyes flicker up to the ghost at the front of the room, but he doesn't seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn't care.
"That's Finnigan. There's a running bet on how long it'll take him to fall asleep after Binns starts monologuing," the boy next to you murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips.
You turn to look at the boy, surprised to hear him speak after all, and for the first time take a good look. Shit. He was hot. You don't really get the chance to dwell too much on it though because he speaks again.
"That one next to him is Thomas. Any second now he'll start piling things on top of 'em. See how high the stack gets before it falls over or Finnigan wakes up. Whichever comes first."
As if on queue, the boy next to the snoring kid carefully places a thick text book on his friend's back. Then another. It's like you can't look away as you watch on in morbid fascination.
"They friends of yours?" you find yourself asking as the boy, Thomas, adds an ink well to his tower.
Your desk partner snorts.
"Hardly. Lions and snakes don't exactly get along," he says smoothly.
You have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but you don't want to ask. Instead you continue to watch as a bag of Bertie Bott's jelly beans, three quills, a sweater, and someone's pet frog is added to the pile. A potted plant is about to be placed on top when a sneeze sends the whole thing crashing to the floor. Professor Binns doesn't even blink as he just continues on. Finnigan's head shoots up as he takes in his surroundings once more, shoulders slumping when he apparently realizes where he is. Understandable.
The rest of class is an absolute drag as you flit in and out of different thoughts and daydreams. Anywhere was better than here, listening to this ghost drown on. If he were any less interesting, you're sure the entire class would die of sheer boredom and be cursed to haunt this very classroom with the old professor. Doomed to be subjected to the very thing that killed you all in the first place for all eternity.
After what you're certain is the longest hour of your life, class finally ends, but to your dismay, you realize that halfway through class you'd simply given up on taking notes. Dammit. As though reading your mind, the boy next to you slides his parchment towards you. His notes are impeccable. Perfectly neat rows in dark ink with not a smudge in sight.
"I can get them back tomorrow," he says simply, before returning the rest of his materials into his bag.
You open your mouth to thank the boy, but before you even get the chance he's gone in a swoosh of emerald green and black.
The whole thing leaves you a bit stunned. It was the first real interaction you'd had with, really anyone at your new school and you couldn't tell if you'd completely blown it or not. He'd seemed decent enough, whoever he was. And that's when it occurs to you. You hadn't even bothered to ask the boy's name.
"Mmm. What was their name again?" Theo asks, trying to appear nonchalant as he inserts himself into Enzo and Daphne's conversation.
The three of them occupied their usual spots inside the Slytherin common room, the soft glow of green flames painting their faces as their voices mix in with the other echoes of the dungeon. Enzo eyes Theo suspiciously, noting that—despite the unbothered front he put on—Theo's fingers couldn't seem to stop tapping anxiously against his knee. See, usually when Enzo and Daphne were participating in their daily debrief, Theo was staring off into the abyss, pointedly ignoring them. So it didn't take an intuitive genius to pick up on the sudden spike of interest he was showing.
"Y/n. They're from America," Daphne says helpfully, seemingly oblivious to the way that Enzo was trying to dissect their friend's inner most thoughts.
"Why all the interest? They catch your eye? Are you two already falling into the early stages of love?" He taunts when he isn't able to get a proper read on his friend.
Theo's heart stops beating in his chest for half a moment before he juts out his chin defiantly.
"All anyone will talk about. Just curious to know who all the fuss is about," he retorts, forcing his voice to remain steady as he continues to stare ahead, avoiding the curious glances of his friends.
He can tell Enzo doesn't quite buy it, but that simply isn't his problem to worry about at the moment.
So they were from America. Huh.
Truthfully, Theo didn't know much about America. Hadn't ever really cared to find anything out. He was familiar with Ilvermorny of course. Which was presumably your former school, but that was pretty much the extent of it. Maybe he'd ask you about it tomorrow.
Assuming he didn't freeze up again at the mere sight of you. Salazar's ball sack that had been bloody embarrassing. Theo couldn't think of a single other time he'd ever frozen up like that, brief as it had been. Usually Theo liked to consider himself to be quite suave. Charming even, if he did say so himself. And he did. It was completely unlike him to be rendered speechless. Especially not by the mere presence of someone with a pretty face.
But it simply hadn't been his fault. How was he supposed to expect that some great, higher power was going to reach deep into his inner most thoughts and desires—pull together every single physical trait that Theo could possibly fantasize about—and combine them all into one single heavenly creature, and then plop them down right next to him in History of Magic of all classes.
Fate was cruel.
And speaking of fate, there was also all that nonsense from Divination that morning to think about. Theo leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. Surely the fact that batty, old Trelawney had predicted that he would fall in love was a complete coincidence in relation to him practically being prepared to propose to the new student in History of Magic a mere few hours later. How could it be anything else? Divination wasn't real. The whole class had been so close to being completely scrapped so many times that you either had to be a fool, or Daphne to believe in it.
Okay, so maybe Theodore was starting to believe it. A little. But what was he supposed to think as he watches you drag your feet through the door scowling? He feels his chest tighten as the two of you make eye contact and he watches as you make your way over to him.
"This seat taken?" you ask, already dropping your bag to the floor. "Didn't take you as one to be into this kinda stuff," you say conversationally as you pull parchment and a quill from your bag.
Theo scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not," he assures, "But Daph is," he adds, head tilting as he gestures to his friend.
He watches as your eyes dart over to the pretty brunette sitting happily between him and Enzo, assessing.
"Oh. Are you two?" The question lingers on your lips and Theo is quick to shake his head no.
Salazar he was being stupid. Of course you would assume—Why was he being like this?
"Nah. No. Daph's an old friend. Enz and I are just here for moral support. And an easy O." Theo hears himself drawl. "What about you? Training to become a seer?"
"Hardly. This was the only elective left that fit into my schedule apparently."
Salazar's balls you were perfect, Theo thinks to himself as Trelawney comes sweeping into the room. Her eyes are closed and her fingertips are pressed against her temples as she swooshes around the room, humming lowly.
"I feel new energy. An unfamiliar presence. You!" Trelawney screeches in her trembly voice, stopping in front of a poor, innocent Hufflepuff with an accusatory finger hovering dangerously close to their eyeball.
Theo can't help but let out a dry snicker and is delighted when he sees you out of the corner of his eye trying to hold back a laugh too. When it's clear to the old professor that the student in front of her had actually been present all year, her eyes scan the room, finally coming to a stop when they rest on you.
"Ah, there you are my dear! Your energy feels so concentrated on this side of the room, it simply drew me over," Trelawney babbles as she makes her way over. "Now let's see here. Palms up dear, palms up, let me have a look."
Theo watches amused, ignoring the weird kissing faces Enzo is making at him, as you sigh but still present your palms facing upwards to the professor. Her bony talons quickly engulf your hands, her eyes fluttering shut once more as her head tilts back, a low hum starting once more.
"Yes, yes. How interesting," the hums get louder as the professor's fingers dig into the lines of your palms. "I see. In the darkest hour, a dark shadow, it will over take you. Consume you."
Trelawney's eyes snap open and Theo watches her face melt back into a warm smile as she gives your hands one last squeeze.
"Welcome to class dear. We have much to learn, so much to see!"
Theo finds that he rather likes the way his heart swells when you turn to look at him, brow raised as you shake your head ever so slightly as if to say, 'what a nutter'.
"How many freaking goblin rebellions is it going to take before the British Ministry finally takes the hint and leaves those poor goblins alone?" you huff, slamming your books a little too loudly onto your table in the library.
You can feel Madam Pince attempting to burn a hole through your back as she glares at you, but you ignore her.
"Probably at least—" Theo checks his notes from the day's lesson, "six or seven. Unfortunately not every revolution to rid oneself of British rule is successful," he teases lightly.
You glare at the boy pointedly.
"I'm not even particularly, patriotic," you grumble, the word actually quite sour on your tongue, "but nothing brings Americans together quite like our mutual hatred of the British."
"Mmm. Do let it go on record now that my family is Italian," Theo replies dryly.
Theodore had very quickly become your closest friend at Hogwarts. From that first day in History of Magic the two of you just seemed to click. It also definitely helped that not only did he share your dry sense of humor, but he was also insanely smart, and very easy on the eyes. You'd been worried for a split second when he first introduced you to Daphne Greengrass, a familiar turning in your stomach that you'd quickly identified as jealousy flaring up, but it had been quickly squashed when Theo assured you that they were indeed just friends. But that was neither here nor there. You and Theo had become practically inseparable in the month that you'd been at your new school, much to the chagrin of his friends. You liked them too of course, and they'd been good sports about welcoming you into their little group, but with Theo it was just easy.
You slide your potions notes across the table just as Theo hands over his Charms essay for you to look over. No words exchanged, but you were both perfectly in sync. Easy.
It's far past dark when you finally push your chair back, the old wood scraping against the floor, and you force yourself to stifle a yawn.
"Alright. I'm calling it a night," you announce as you begin packing up your books. "I should head back in case it takes an hour to get that damn eagle to open up the common room door again."
You hear Theo let out a snort at your last comment. He'd heard well and good your complaints about that stupid hunk of metal.
"Guess I'll head out as well. Mattheo has been complaining that he never sees me anymore, but he's just mad he can't copy my notes anymore."
The two of you quickly gather the rest of your things, slinking out of the library right as Pince begins making her rounds to toss the last lingering students out before closing the doors for the night. The walk to Ravenclaw tower is made in comfortable silence as you walk side by side, both of you trying to ignore the way the back of your hands were brushing against each other as you went. When you finally arrive, a whole group of students in black and blue are outside the door when it swings open. Not wanting to miss your chance, you toss Theo a smile over your shoulder before disappearing with the crowd of students through the door.
As soon as you enter your room, you dump your bag on the ground at the foot of your bed, trade your stiff school uniform for a more comfortable track set, and turn right back out the door—a disillusionment spell on the tip of your tongue. You move silently against the walls, retracing the same steps you'd just taken, leading your right back to the library. It's dark now—you knew from experience that as soon as the clock hit ten, Pince was out the doors. You lift your wand, ready to cast the usual alohomora but tonight something stops you. Call it a gut feeling. You grip the handle of the heavy, wood door and without so much as a squeak, the door swings open. Huh. Maybe the cranky librarian had been in such a rush to leave she forgot to lock up.
Without giving it so much as a second thought, you slip through the doors, following the familiar path that lead you right to the heart of the restricted section of the library. Really, you often found yourself wondering, why on Earth did they have a so called restricted section, and then not even bother to put up a single ward to keep students from entering? Wasn't very restricted if they asked you. Your fingertips brush over the spines of different books as you pass through the shelves, pulling one from the shelf every so often if it catches your eye. The silence of the empty library was deafening, but you relished the way you could hear your footsteps echoing on the tile and the rustle of pages turning as you flipped through your nightly finds.
You're on your tiptoes, straining to reach a large tome from the top shelf when you catch sight of a dark shadow appearing out of the corner of your eye. God, you hoped it wasn't that old man Filch. He wasn't as bad as everyone made him seem, you'd been able to talk him out of snitching on you thus far, but it kind of ruined the mood. Your hand drops to rest on the handle of your wand as the shady figure draws closer and you prepare to throw one of your books its way just in case.
"What are you doing here?" the confused voice of Theodore rings out just as you're about to launch your copy of Moste Potente Potions at his head.
You feel your shoulders sag in relief. You hadn't been scared of course. Just vaguely alarmed. Then you let out a laugh.
"And what's funny?"
"Oh, nothing. Just Trelawney and her whole 'A dark shadow is going to overtake you' spiel," you snicker. "And what do you mean what am I doing here? What are you doing here?" you ask rather indignantly, turning back to focus on the book that was just out of your reach.
"I come down to the library at night all the time," Theo replies, crossing his arms defensively.
"Well it's obviously not all the time because I've been here every night this month and I've never seen you down here," you reply casually.
You can practically hear Theo rolling his eyes at you.
"Well of course not all the time, Filch would start getting—sorry did you say you've been here every night? How has Filch not caught you?"
You shrug your shoulders noncommittally, glaring up at the book that seemed to be just taunting you.
"He has a few times, but we usually just chat for a little and then he'll send me on my way."
You don't see the absolutely stunned look on Theo's face.
"You chat? With Filch. About what?" Theo asks incredulously.
You let out an exasperated sigh.
"The weather. Cat toy recommendations for Mrs. Norris. His mother's retirement in France. I don't know, we chat about a lot of things."
You still aren't facing Theo, but if you had been, you probably would have laughed at the completely gobsmacked look that was written across his face.
"Now will you be useful and get that book down for me?" you ask, foot stomping impatiently on the ground.
Still too shocked to respond, Theo reaches up over your head, placing one hand on your shoulder for balance as he easily plucks the book you'd been reaching for off the shelf. Just as he's about to hand it to you though, it seems he comes back to his senses and that smug grin that you'd become so familiar with recently finds its way back to his lips.
"Uh uh uh, where's my reward?" he teases, holding the book just out of reach once more as he smirks down at you.
"Reward?" you ask dryly, looking up to raise an eyebrow at your friend.
Had he always been standing so close?
"I'm a Slytherin. I don't do something for nothing now," he says, voice like honey in your ears.
"What do you want?" you ask, eyes narrowing.
Theo tilts his head as if pretending to think.
"A kiss."
You blink, shoulders shrugging as you turn to face the boy properly. Seemed fair enough to you. You were definitely getting the best end of the deal. So you tug on the collar of Theo's sweatshirt, before crashing your lips into his. His lips are warm and soft and that's all you take note of before pulling away quickly. Theo is clearly stunned once more so you take the opportunity to finally get your hands on the book you'd been eyeing this whole time.
"Thanks Theo!"
Theodore Nott was dangerously close to never brushing his teeth ever again. Because you had kissed him last night. In some sudden, stupid burst of confidence he had asked you to kiss him and you did. It had been a complete joke—Theo hadn't even remotely considered that you'd actually do it, but you'd grabbed the collar of his jumper and then your lips were on his and he knew he was well and truly done for.
"Theo. Theo! You need to get your act together mate," Lorenzo grunts, elbowing his friend to get his attention.
"What? Stop that," Theo mutters, batting his friend away from him.
"Seriously. You're acting like a love sick puppy."Brie
Theo glares.
"Would take one to know one," he snaps, falling back in his seat with a huff.
Now it's Enzo's turn to narrow his eyes.
"I'm going to choose to ignore that because you're just upset that you didn't kiss y/n back," he responds.
Theo's eyes bulge at the bold—albeit correct—observation.
"Can you keep your bloody voice down?" he hisses, eyes flickering about to make sure no one had heard.
Luckily, you had only just entered the divination classroom so at least Theo was safe for now. Or maybe not.
"Morning," you say brightly giving the group a small wave and taking your usual spot next to Theo.
Theo opens his mouth to respond but, Salazar you smelled good today, and your lips, god your lips looked soft and pink and, the words feel caught in Theo's throat. Somewhere in the distance he can hear Enzo snickering obnoxiously, but all Theo can do is stare at you dumbly. This was mortifying. As soon as he figured out how to move again Theo was launching himself straight off this bloody tower.
"Hey, do you want to sneak into the library again tonight?" you ask casually, laying your things out on your desk, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you were about to send Theo into cardiac arrest.
Of course I'll sneak back into the library with you. Especially if it means you'll kiss me again, Theo wants to say. But he has at least a little bit of dignity left, so he straightens himself in his chair, trying to maintain at least somewhat of an air of nonchalance as he finally strings a sentence together.
"Sure."
Okay, so a sentence might be giving himself a bit too much credit, but it was better than sitting there gaping like a daft idiot. You seem satisfied with his answer though as you turn to face the front just as Trelawney waltzes into the room with her usual dramatic flair. Theo drifts in and out of the lesson as Trelawney rambles on about tea leaves and the placement of tasseography symbols. He tried to focus. Really he needed to, because the alternative was his gaze finding its way to the curve of your lips and the way your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek as you furiously scribbled down notes.
The gentle sound of metal clinking on china pulls Theo wholey back to class as a spoon taps impatiently on the teacup in front of him as if urging him to drink. Glancing around he sees most of his classmates were already bottoms up. Drinking down the rather bitter liquid, Theo carefully places his cup back down in front of him, peering disinterestedly at its contents. Just looked like soggy tea leaves to him.
Trelawney insists on moving about the room though, dissecting the meanings inside each little cup and leaving behind a trail of utterly befuddled students in her wake. When she finally reaches Theo, he can visibly see her begin to vibrate with excitement as she moves his cup around in her hands, swishing the tea leaves back and forth.
"Look there, dear. Do you see?" she asks giddily, shoving the teacup back in Theo's face.
"No." he replies flatly, not even bothering to examine the wet leaves.
"Look closer."
Theo's nose is practically inside the cup now and he can hear you and Enz snickering on either side of him. Traitors. When he still doesn't say anything, Trelawney lets out a huff, sticking her crooked finger into the cup and speaking slowly as if explaining something to a small child.
"Right there. Don't you see?" she asks, as if it should've been the most obvious thing in the world. "An axe—" she swirls the cup to the side. "And a butterfly."
Theo stares blankly at the old woman.
"Use their notes and figure it out," she finally huffs in exasperation before sweeping off to another table.
As soon as she's gone and Theo makes eye contact with you he can't help but chuckle as Daphne scowls at the two of you.
"Look," she sighs, shoving her notes across the table for Theo to read.
The Axe—problems overcome
The Butterfly—success and pleasure
Wonderful. More nonsense. That was the problem with divination—the definitions were so broad they were basically meaningless. Overcoming problems and success? That could be about anything. Theo pushes the parchment back to its owner with a shrug. He'd just do what he always did and make something up for the assignment.
Shadows loom against the dimly lit walls of the library as you and Theo wander through the shelves together. Theo had been quieter than usual tonight. To be fair, he wasn't usually the most talkative person ever, but you had had to push to get your usual banter out of him. He clearly had something on his mind. You don't push though. That was something you both appreciated about each other—just being there together was enough.
Once you both have a sizable stack of books pulled together you tuck yourselves away in one of the back corners of the restricted section. Far enough that not even Mrs. Norris would bother to wander all the way back. You find yourself curling up next to your friend, legs pressed together and shoulders brushing as you cast a soft lumos charm just bright enough to illuminate the pages of your books as you read. The quiet is nice after a long day of navigating the crowded halls and classrooms of the school. Hogwarts was definitely a lively place, and you hadn't realized just how much you missed having some peace and quiet until you'd snuck out of Ravenclaw tower that first night.
"Do you think divination might not be completely useless?" Theo asks a while later, breaking the silence.
You look up in surprise before glancing down at the book he's reading—Divination Through the Ages: A Skeptics Guide—your eyebrows furrowing in thought. If you were being honest, you'd always thought that divination was, to be polite, dumb. In fact, you'd been rather pissed when your head of house, Professor Flitwick, had told you that it was the only class that would fit in your schedule. But you didn't think that was what Theo wanted to hear at the moment.
"I mean, all forms of magic have their unique uses I suppose," you reply carefully, wondering where this was going.
Theo just hums in response, continuing to finger through the pages of the book as you watch with curiosity. Finally, with a deep breath, he snaps the book closed and turns to face you. It's clear he wants to say something as you search his eyes which seem to be getting ever so slightly closer by the second. You can't help the way your eyes drop down to his lips as his tongue glides across his bottom lip nervously. They're so close now you can practically feel the way they had pressed against your own last night. However brief that encounter had been. When you finally tilt your head back up to meet his eyes once more, your nose brushes his and you feel your breath hitch. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was about to kiss you right now.
And then his lips are on yours and you feel your body go limp as he pulls you into him, your eyes fluttering closed as he molds you to him. Your book slips from your fingers with a dull thud as it hits the ground, but you hardly notice. Theo's lips are just as warm, and soft, and utterly intoxicating as you remembered them to be. You can feel Theo smiling against your lips as he pulls you impossibly closer and you forget where you are, what you were doing, everything except what it feels like to be held in Theo's arms.
When you finally break apart, it's your turn to blink in stunned silence as Theo gazes down at you, his breath warm against your cheek.
"Ever since you arrived, everything that divination has told me has come true," Theo says gruffly, clearly not pleased to be having to admit it.
You couldn't blame him. The two of you had kind of bonded over how unseriously you both took the class. Still though, you tilt your head, inviting him to continue.
"The first day we met—that morning in divination, a deck of tarot cards told me I was going to fall in love."
A dry laugh escapes Theo's lips as he pulls back, eyes trained everywhere but at you now. Which is probably for the best as you feel tendrils of heat creeping up into your face.
"I didn't believe them of course. Thought it was pure rubbish."
Your heart stutters for a moment before your eyes land on the book Theo had been reading so intently up until now.
"Hm. And did something change?" you ask cautiously, not daring to get your hopes up.
"Well, the soggy leaves in my tea this morning kind of implied that I should get my act together if I wanted any sort of success, so—" Theo lets out another wry laugh, though there's no humor in his voice. Just a nervous undertone that you can tell he's trying to mask.
"Well did you? Fall in love that is?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy around Theo for the first time.
There's a beat of silence where you can practically feel your heart trying to tear its way out of your chest. You hadn't quite realized just how much you wanted this until it was staring you in the face. Or rather anywhere but. Then Theo meets your eyes once more.
"I think I could. If I'm not half way there already."
His words melt every bit of tension you had been feeling previously as you let out a breath that you didn't know you'd been holding.
"I think I'm half way there too."
Everyone say thank you to the beta readers @simplyastra and @nottendo 🫶🏽
For those who have missed it, a tourist in Hawaii decided it would be fun to chuck a rock (a BIG rock) at a monk seal. He missed, but he was captured on video, and when told it was illegal to interfere with them, said "I'm rich, I can pay the fine."
Is the best part that he got doxxed? No.
Is the best part that he got tracked down by a local and beaten? No.
Arrested on state at federal charges, looking at up to 5 years and 50K? Nope.
The best part is the local city council's reaction.
And the best part of that is the look on the attorney's face.
“Haha remember when murder-hornets were gonna be a thing? What a nothingburger.”
Yes, because the Washington state government activated like a sleeper-cell and ruthlessly, systematically hunted them down and annihilated them.
“Y2K came to nothing amirite?”
Yes because an army of software engineers working around the clock, losing sleep, and busting ass till the last minute prevented it from happening.
“Remember the hole in the ozone layer?”
You mean the one that was fixed through rigorous world wide government action?
One of the root problems of our society is a refusal or inability by media to articulate that all those “it’s gonna be an apocalypse” disasters were not disasters because we collectively did something about them.
The good news is this is actually quite correctable. I maintain my firm belief that we as humans are capable of solving almost all of our problems, when we decide to do so.
And I still think that’s going to happen. I don’t know when or how, but I do know that abandoning hope won’t help bring it about.
And I refuse to let the cynics own a chunk of my heart.
What do you mean “chat” is now referring to ChatGPT and not twitch chat? What? What? What the fuck? No?
When I address chat I am speaking to a presumed Greek chorus of real human people shitposting on their lunch break, not a machine that devours lakes to covert electricity into slop.
