Summary - After the swiftest and smuggest victory in Hogwarts quidditch history, the Slytherins held their usual party. Blared music, flowing drinks, the works. The sweetest words come out when alcohol goes in; but are they ever true?
Warnings - Consumption of alcohol and weed, mentions of sex, vomiting, emetophobia, drunken behaviour, crying, pain relief. Inebriated angst with the happiest of happy endings, since I cannot write sad ones.
WC: 3.2K
When you were ten years old, you left home on a biting September morning, and were dropped off at King's Cross station by your surprisingly teary mother and father.
The wait to pull out of the platform was long and boring.
In your lap was your newly-bought owl. You had refused to have it stored away with the trunks like some sort of toad. Cassiopeia, you named her. Her feathers were soft, and they matched your hair. She cooed when you rubbed her head.
"How are they all full?" Miles squeaked, stood in the narrow corridor with the other boys, red-faced as they began to run out of compartments to double check.
Marcus sighed and pushed him to keep walking. He didn't even know Bletchley — all of the boys' fathers had introduced them at the station — but he felt that he needed the push.
Adrian pressed himself against the door of a compartment as a few fourth years ran up it. He huffed and turned his head, looking through glass and seeing you alone.
"Hey, this one's fine."
"There's a girl in there." Terrence said plainly, like that was fear enough to not go in there.
Adrian rolled his eyes and slid the compartment door open.
Your head turned at the sound as your owl cowered into your chest.
Adrian forced a rather nervous smile, looking at you. "Hi. Sorry about.." He gestured to your scared owl. "Yeah. Would it be okay if we sat with you? Everywhere else is full."
Feathers ruffled against your hand as you attempted to calm your bird, nodding at the boy.
The group entered and sat down. All of you were introduced. The rest is history.
Now, years later, you were seventh years. Seventh years with the deepest dungeon dorms, the highest honoured titles, and the most infamous reputations as if you were competing with one another.
Each of you were known for different things. Marcus for his amazingly string-less juggling of girls, Terrence for his proclivity with transfiguration, Miles for his troublemaking, Lucian for his deafening laugh that has gotten him many detentions, and Adrian, for causing that laugh.
You loved one another for different reasons to different levels, but in the end, Adrian was your best friend, and you were his.
Secrets between you two remained secrets. He trusted you more than anything, and had bared parts of himself to you that he was shamed to even think of. They were always met with comfort, never judgment.
In the same ways, he comforted you. Wiped your tears when bottling them up ended badly, listened to your frequent rants and helped you however he could.
Often with your exhaustion. Many titles were attached to your name — heir, captain, try-hard — and they grew heavy quickly.
Regardless of how those words weighed on you, you had to bear them all the same.
And you did so with pride.
You were an heir to the ancient houses of Malfoy and Black, a "prodigy", — Lucius' words — and Slytherin's quidditch captain. The last of which titles you held dearest to your heart.
Earlier today, Slytherin had beat Gryffindor; all thanks to your quick thinking mid-game, repositioning the beaters onto the day's strongest chasers, and running circles around Wood like he owed you money: you were amazing, as always.
The match was followed by a rager of a party, full of flowing drinks, blow, and laughter loud enough to top the deafening music.
The dance floor was full, centred by you in your skimpy dress, and your favourite boy. Adrian had a delicate grip on your hand, and waist, and a slightly tipsy grin on his face as he spun you.
Dancing was one of his favourite things to do with you. The rhythm seemed to flow effortlessly between your bodies, it always ended up being more of an embrace than a show.
After a while, you decided to take a break from dancing and ran off with some ravenclaw girlfriends to get high as a kite off of hufflepuff weed.
Adrian left the floor and hung back against the wall with Terrence, — he didn't enjoy parties, only came because the others forced him — sprawled out on a couch sipping gin leisurely, pleasure thrumming through his body from the satisfaction of the afternoon's win and the drink's effects.
Across from the pair was Flint in an armchair, a ravenclaw in his lap as he sook a different kind of pleasure, his hands gripping the globes of her ass with a charming smirk.
Pucey rolled his eyes. Marcus always did this. Fucked some random in a broom cupboard and came stumbling into the dorm, either talking about it or vomiting his guts out when everyone was just trying to develop their hangover in peace.
The image did make his mind wander. Who were you with?
Maybe Davies. He was eyeing you all night… always loves to appear with the convenient excuse of "quidditch captain things". Adrian scoffed to himself like a petulant child, he needed to get a grip.
You were entitled to your flings, it's not as if he hadn't had a few carnal nights. You could shag whomever you wanted, and when Lucian would ask if anyone had fun last night; talk about it at the breakfast table. Even if the thought made bile rise into his throat.
The truth always bubbled to the surface of a stewing pot of jealousy: you weren't his. As much as he wished it wasn't so, that was your choice. It's not like he's subtle with his feelings.
By Miles' description, he's always looked at you like you'd spiked his pumpkin juice with amortencia.
Bole's clicking fingers in front of his face snapped him out of his trace.
He refocused his eyes just in time to grab the shot of alcohol floating, and downed it. The burning of his throat dragged him down to earth.
Sweet Merlin, Flint's girl's moaning.
Adrian got up to go find you — the clock said 2, you were likely hammered by now —, because he was in no way keen to watch Marcus walk the edge of becoming a father.
You were tucked onto an unstable table in a corner with your girls, eyes red, hair messy but gorgeous all the same, a lazy grin on your face.
An alternate dimension had taken you; aka, you were off your ass intoxicated.
Adrian breathed out in relief and began to walk over, taking to the congratulations and pats on the back in passing kindly.
He smiled when he saw you, squeezing past your friends and leaning down to murmur in your ear so you'd hear him over the pounding tunes.
"You okay?"
Glossy lips were slightly ajar, an unintentional pout on your face as you looked up at him, eyes wide like a newborn baby's.
"Yeah…" Slurred like it was the first word you'd ever said.
A chuckle escaped him. "Yeah?" He teased, raising a large hand to smooth down your frizzing hair.
Your head nodded like it was hinged, and he huffed in amusement once again.
"Think you can walk?" His other arm wrapped around your waist, ready to carry you. The words were soft and tender, an utter contrast to the hot, lusty air in the common room.
A long "Uh…" left your mouth, and was finished by one of your bemused friends.
"Not a chance."
He nodded without looking away from your face, slowly pulling you to the edge of the table and easily lifting you into his arms. He began his walk through the crowd and down the girls' stairs.
Ringing was all you could hear, and he was all you could smell. The way he held you was so effortless; large biceps not being strained in the slightest…
"Adrian…" You murmured with a slurred, melodic voice, head nuzzled into his chest.
Suddenly nothing felt ecstatic.
"What is it, darling?" He asked quietly, taking a glance down. The music from the party dulling as he descended the stairs step by step.
It was like your stomach had churned itself into a knot, and you gagged, jerking weakly into his arms.
"Shit." Was muttered under Pucey's breath. He rushed down the last few steps and pushed your dorm door open, shutting it with a silent spell and rushing you into the ensuite.
He placed you on your knees before the toilet, the hand on your waist guiding you there unintentionally pushing on your stomach, making you all the more nauseous.
A pained, unattractive half groan, half burp left your mouth.
Adrian rushed to get behind you and gathered your hair into his hand just in time for the contents of your stomach to empty.
Thankfully, it was all at once.
You slumped forward, groaning weakly as your hands gripped the bowl.
Adrian rubbed your back slowly, letting your hair free from his grip to reach up and grab a washcloth from the edge of the sink.
He shifted to come to your side. Your head felt like a weight, but you looked up at him. There was no airy happiness remaining from five minutes ago. Just messy hair, glassy eyes, and wet lips.
The brown-haired boy gently wiped around your mouth.
"You'll feel better now, love." He murmured quietly, dropping the cloth and drawing you into his arms carefully, scooping you onto his lap. "You needed that."
"Ugh…"
His large hand cupped the side of your head, holding it gently against his chest. His lips pressed against the crown of your head.
A long sigh escaped you, your hand curling around his bicep for some sort of purchase.
"You need to stop drinking that pink bullshit."
Narcissa seemed to have spawned into your bathroom, with the way you were being lectured.
A lazy chuckle escaped you. "You'll be puking in half an hour. Shut it."
He huffed, shivering slightly at the thought. He fucking hated vomiting…
You sighed again, and shifted to look up at him, laying your arms over his shoulders. "Thank you for getting me when you did."
The corners of his lips immediately turned upwards, and he tucked some loose hair behind your ear. "Don't thank me. It's my job."
You shared his smile, looking at him so fondly. He really was the best bloke you would ever find. He was kind, and soft, and still looked at you like you were delicate after you had just expelled the contents of your stomach right before his eyes.
Clearly, you were a melancholic drunk.
Your voice was quiet and intimate, still slightly slurred. "Y'know I love you."
Those words always did something to him. They wrenched his heart as equally as they filled it. He nodded, slowly rubbing your back to give his clenching fingers something to do.
"I don't love you like I love the others."
His blue eyes were piercing your soul, his expression suddenly pensive, and his hand stilled.
This silent breath charm better have worked. You stood on your knees and leaned in to kiss him.
He dodged your lips with the greatest self restraint anyone could have. His forehead dropped against your shoulder as you whined in drunken confusion.
One moment you were telling him you loved him, the next you were trying to snog him. It all happened so quickly.
"Adrian?"
"You're drunk, love." His arms wrapped tightly around you, hiding the scrunched look on his face. "Don't do anything you'll regret in the morning."
"I…" You murmured, trying to catch your words. "I won't." Salty tears began to well in your eyes. "You don't love me."
That made him let out a humourless huff, lifting his head just to look into your eyes, cupping your face. He uttered your name quietly and painfully.
"Of course I love you. What are you on about?"
Tears dripped down your face as you sniffled, the drink making it even harder to calm yourself. "You don't wanna kiss me." Spoken shakily.
"That's not-" He sighed and wicked droplets away from your cheeks with his thumb. "You're pissed. You don't actually want this." The sight of your tears made him want to cry too. His voice was low and resigned, sad and despondent. "You just want to shag someone."
An incredulous sob left your lips.
Adrian immediately regretted his words. Fucking idiot can't keep his own insecurities to himself, and now is making you wail. Great.
"I didn't mean it like that-"
"I love you." You murmured as you tried to catch your breath, face contorted and reddened with emotion. "Not like a 'best mate' or somethi-"
Adrian sucked in a quick breath and looked away. "No."
You sobbed, leaning your head into his caress desperately. "Kiss me. Please?"
"Darling-"
His hand was wet from your tears, and he let it drop from your cheek. You were looking at him with pleading eyes. You would never beseech for anything. It broke him to see you do so for such a void prize.
"Will you stay with me?" You asked shakily.
It was often that you sleep in each other's arms, but after the callous rejection, you weren't sure.
He sighed and nodded. He must hate himself.
After that heavy exchange on the bathroom floor, he lifted you into bed and undid the intricate buckles on your heels. Then he climbed in with you, and let you cuddle into his chest.
It was quickly that you fell asleep.
At 4am when he sat back against the wall of the ensuite, waiting to vomit again after he had already done so once, he thought of you.
Denying you was the right choice. You were drunk out of your mind, and you didn't mean a word of it; he wasn't some rapey opportunist who would kiss you when you were in that state.
But something inside of him felt wrong. It was the alcohol, pushing him for more, pushing him to let go of everything holding him back and snog you until your lips were swollen.
It would've saved you bawling on the bathroom floor.
No. He made the right choice. You were out of it. You didn't love him like that.
After he had gotten sick again, Pucey crawled back into bed, curling himself around you from behind.
It was midday by the time you woke. There was a drum in your head, pounding. Thank Merlin for the pain potion yesterday's self proactively put on your bedside table. It was knocked back your throat, and began working instantly.
Then you were more aware of the arms tight around your middle. Adrian's hot breath was warming your neck.
Your eyes shut in relaxation, nuzzled comfortably in the covers.
Then you remembered. Fucking hell.
Crying your eyes out, ruining your friendship while high out of your mind.
You tried to shift out of his arms, pulling roughly.
That woke him. He mumbled something unintelligible against the back of your neck, drawing his arms around you tightly, pinning you against his bare chest — he had stripped off his shirt after his second time getting sick.
Shit.
Your name was a sleepy murmur from his lips. You stayed silent.
The only sound in the dark room was the rustle of duvet.
Consciousness found him gradually, until his headache and memories of last night were at the forefront of his mind.
You rolled onto your back, reaching for a pain potion for him. All you could hope for was his amnesia.
He took the vial graciously and swallowed it down in one gulp, then turned his head to look at you.
Those blue irises were taken over by large pupils, a thoughtful look on his face as he raised one hand to your cheek.
You gave him an uncharacteristically nervous smile,and immediately straightened your face out after, regretting it.
"Sleep well?" He asked roughly, as his hand rubbed your waist slowly.
You nodded.
"Good."
A huff left you as you built up the courage to speak. "Last night-"
The brown-haired boy shook his head, and stroked his thumb just below your eye.
"We don't have to talk about it." The words hurt to say, but they had to be said all the same.
"You were drunk, I get it."
For a long moment, you were silenced, eyes flitting across his face with the knowledge that this moment was a crossroad for your relationship, one that you had avoided for far too long.
You let a hand slip to his back — so it had something to do besides mess with the covers — and moved your head so your nose was almost touching his.
"I meant it."
Adrian's hand stilled, his eyes widening with incredulity.
Now, you were emboldened. The sheets were warm with the heat of your bodies, and smelled like alcohol and sweat. It felt so natural leaning in, kissing his cheek.
"I love you, Adrian."
A hand lifted to caress where your lips had just touched, leaning your forehead against his.
The boy was stunned. His eyes were wide and his entire form was stilled, like if he moved you would disappear. But quickly, he found sense.
"I fucking love you too." He chuckled nervously, delicately holding your face in his hand. He pressed a quick kiss to your temple and tucked your head under his chin, breathing in the scent of your hair.
There was no way to describe the feeling, besides a deep sense of correctness. This was where you belonged, in his arms, held and loved.
"Can I kiss you now?" You murmured against his neck, voice softly teasing.
He huffed softly in amusement, rubbing your back. "Once I brush my teeth, baby."
You didn't wait for him to do so.
Your mouth probably tasted like you had licked the ground, how different would it be kissing him?
So swiftly, you clasped his chin in your hand and crashed your lips together.
The kiss was long and final, hungry and visceral. Disgusting to most, deeply intimate to you.
An hour and a half later, the pair of you rocked up to lunch, fashionably late.
You were wearing his jersey, and a pleased-with-yourself grin.
Adrian guided you onto the bench with a hand on your lower back, then slipped in beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist, reaching for a slice of toast like a starved orphan.
The boys across from you were eyeing the pair of you with a mix of amusement and disbelief.
"That the only thing you ate this morning?" Marcus was the first to tease, as ever.
You chuckled and took a bite of a sharply sour green apple — your favourite. Adrian's face was smug as he shook his head no.
He leaned in to press sickening kisses against your cheek. "She's far sweeter."
Flint laughed at his friend's entrancement.
"Did you two get married after I blacked out?" Miles asked, elbows on the table, hair going every which way as he powered through this day.
"Sadly no, but it's on my to do list." Adrian said with a large, arrogant grin, looking down at you like he had one the lottery.
If his scrawny first year self could see him now, his eyes might pop out of his head. Seeing himself with his lips locked onto the most perfect girl he could think of.
It's safe to say his shit-eating expression would not dull soon.
Adrian Pucey m.list ⌯⌲
hi this is my first time writing for adrian
i already have another done... i can't help it i love having hot men that i can make my own
SUMMARY: In a world falling apart, you were the only thing that ever made sense to Mattheo Riddle. So when he almost loses you— he breaks in a way no one has ever seen before.
A/N: Mentions of sex, lot of grief, what else do I say, takes place during the war
The library was quiet that afternoon, the kind of heavy silence that only existed between towering shelves and the faint scratch of quills in the distance. Mattheo Riddle moved through the Restricted Section’s outer edges with his usual careless grace, hands shoved in his pockets, searching for the tome on ancient runes that Theo had demanded he borrow.
“Fucking Theo and his obscure shit,” he muttered under his breath, scanning the spines.
His fingers closed around the leather-bound volume. He tugged.
From the opposite side of the shelf, the book jerked hard in the other direction.
Mattheo frowned, tugging harder.
It resisted again — this time with surprising force, as if someone on the other side had grabbed it with both hands.
With one final, irritated yank, the book came free toward him — only for it to be snatched completely from his grip at the last second.
Mattheo rounded the shelf in three long strides, irritation flashing in his dark eyes.
There you stood — smaller than he expected, robes neat, holding the book against your chest like a prize. Your expression was calm but unmistakably smug.
“Problem?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.
Mattheo’s gaze narrowed. “That’s my book.”
“Funny,” you replied smoothly, “it was in my hands first. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, Riddle.”
He stepped closer, towering over you, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you tilted your head, studying him with sharp intelligence that caught him off guard.
“You’re brave,” he said, voice low and edged with curiosity. “Or at least brave enough that you don’t know better than to steal from a Slytherin.”
“I’m a Gryffindor, and I'm not stealing. I’m borrowing. For actual academic purposes, not whatever dark arts project you have planned.”
Mattheo’s lips twitched — almost a smile, but not quite.
“Bold. Most people would’ve handed it over by now.”
“Most people aren’t trying to finish an essay on advanced warding runes before curfew,” you countered. “If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll let you look at it after I’m done.”
He laughed — a short, surprised sound.
“You’ve got nerve.”
“And you’ve got a reputation,” you shot back, eyes sparkling with challenge. “But I’ve read enough to know reputations are usually exaggerated.”
You turned to leave, book tucked securely under your arm. Over your shoulder, you delivered the final line with perfect, sweet venom:
“Besides, you’re much prettier when you’re not scowling. Shame it doesn’t happen often.”
Mattheo stood frozen as you disappeared down the aisle. It took him a full ten seconds to realize the compliment had been an insult wrapped in silk.
By the time the realization hit, you were long gone.
He stared at the empty space where you’d been, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face.
“Interesting,” he murmured to himself.
From that day on, Mattheo Riddle made it his mission to pursue you.
He started small — witty remarks when your paths crossed in the corridors.
“Still hoarding books that don’t belong to you?” he’d murmur as he passed, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.
You’d fire back without missing a beat: “Still letting your friends do your homework for you?”
During Quidditch matches, when Slytherin played, he’d catch your eye from his broom while chasing the Quaffle. He’d wink — bold and unapologetic — right before executing a sharp dive that left the crowd roaring.
You tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped every time.
In the Great Hall, he’d sit across from his friends but let his gaze drift to the Gryffindor table where you were seated, sometimes sending a paper airplane charmed with a single sarcastic line:
“Enjoying that book you stole?”
You never backed down.
You matched his sharp tongue with your own clever retorts, never raising your voice, never stuttering. You were quiet by nature in large groups, but one-on-one with him? You became lightning.
Weeks turned into months.
Mattheo found himself seeking you out more and more. He’d “accidentally” end up in the same library corner, or join you on the Astronomy Tower when you went there to study stars instead of smoke.
Slowly, you began to see past the rumors.
He wasn’t the heartless villain everyone painted. He was sharp and guarded, yes — carrying the weight of his father’s name like a curse — but there were moments when he let the mask slip.
When he spoke about wanting something real, something that wasn’t tainted by legacy.
When he listened to you talk about your favorite books or your dreams beyond Hogwarts without interrupting with a joke.
One rainy evening in the library, after hours of quiet studying side by side, he finally asked the question that had been burning in him.
“Why don’t you run from me like everyone else does?”
You looked up from your notes, meeting his eyes steadily.
“Because I see you, Mattheo. Not the name. Not the rumors. Just you.”
That was the night he kissed you for the first time — slow, intense, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he rushed it.
You kissed him back, fingers curling into his robes, and something shifted between you irrevocably.
During the winter holidays of seventh year, you invited him to celebrate your eighteenth birthday at your family home in London.
Your parents welcomed Mattheo warmly despite knowing exactly who he was.
At first, he felt like an intruder, tense and overly polite, convinced he might be a burden. But your mother especially took to him immediately, treating him like her own son — fussing over him at dinner, laughing at his dry humor, and pulling him into conversations about everything from Quidditch to showing him your childhood pictures.
Your father was quieter but kind, clapping him on the shoulder and telling him he was always welcome.
That night, after the cake and laughter and your parents had gone to bed, Mattheo pulled you into your room.
The kiss that started soft quickly deepened with months of built-up longing. His hands roamed slowly over your body, learning every curve as if memorizing you. He was gentle yet confident, undressing you with reverent touches while whispering how beautiful you looked, how long he had wanted this.
You felt desired and safe in his arms as he took his time, moving with a mix of hunger and tenderness that made your heart race and your breath catch. He made sure you felt every bit of his attention, every kiss and touch building until pleasure washed over you in waves.
Afterward, he got up quietly to bring you water and a warm cloth, he held you close against his chest, tracing lazy patterns on your bare back with his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your shoulders, and your lips, then pulled the blankets over both of you, wrapping you securely in his arms as if he never wanted to let go.
You fell asleep tangled together, his heartbeat steady under your cheek.
The war changed everything.
Seventh year brought darkness. Death Eaters roamed freely. Attacks on innocents became nightly news. Fear hung over Hogwarts like a shroud.
You and Mattheo stole moments where you could — whispered conversations in empty classrooms, his arms around you in hidden alcoves, promises that you’d survive this together.
The Battle of Hogwarts erupted without warning.
Explosions rocked the castle. Curses lit up the night sky. Students and teachers fought side by side with the Order of the Phoenix against the invading Death Eaters.
Mattheo moved through the chaos in a frenzy, heart pounding, wand raised. He wasn’t fighting for his father’s side — he was fighting to find you. To protect you. To get you out.
“Where is she?!” he demanded to no one in particular, blasting a curse at a masked Death Eater who had his wand pointed at some First year.
He rounded a corner near the Charms corridor and froze.
You were backed against a crumbling stone wall, robes torn, breathing hard.
Antonin Dolohov advanced on you, his wand raised, a cruel smile twisting his face.
You were holding your own — blocking curse after curse with impressive shields — but you were tiring, cornered.
Dolohov shouted the words with vicious delight:
“Avada Kedavra!”
Time slowed.
Mattheo’s world went blank with pure terror.
At the exact same moment, he lifted his wand and screamed,
“Stupefy!”
— aiming it directly at you, praying the red jet would hit first, knock you unconscious, make you drop before the green curse could reach you.
Everything happened too fast.
Your body jerked, as one of the two spells hit you. You crumpled to the ground instantly, eyes closing, limp.
Dolohov smiled with crooked teeth and turned to attack a group of fleeing students instead, disappearing into the smoke and dust.
Mattheo couldn’t breathe.
His legs felt like lead as he stumbled forward, one slow, weary step after another. The world tilted. His vision blurred at the edges.
Pansy and Daphne skidded around the corner first, closer than he was.
Pansy let out a choked sob the moment she saw your still form on the ground.
“No… no, no, no—”
Pansy dropped to her knees beside you, hands shaking as she reached for you. Tears streamed down her face immediately.
“Wake up! Please wake up!”
Daphne’s face was pale, eyes wide with horror as she knelt too, gripping Pansy’s shoulder.
The boys arrived moments later — Blaise, Enzo, Theo, and Draco — all of them skidding to a halt. Their expressions turned hollow, the usual sharp wit and arrogance drained away in an instant.
Theo spotted Mattheo first, stumbling toward the scene like a ghost. He moved quickly, trying to intercept him.
“Mattheo— wait—”
Mattheo shoved past him, dropping hard to his knees beside your body.
Pansy, sobbing openly now, gently let you go so Mattheo could pull you into his arms.
He cradled you against his chest, one hand supporting your head, the other pressed desperately to your back as if he could will your heart to beat stronger.
“No… come on, love,” he whispered, voice cracking for the first time anyone had ever heard.
“Don’t do this. Don’t you dare leave me here.”
Tears — real, hot tears — spilled down his face as he rocked you gently, forehead pressed to yours.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve found you sooner. I should’ve kept you safe. Please… come back. I can’t— I can’t do this without you. I can't live in a world where you don't exist.”
His shoulders shook with silent, gut-wrenching sobs.
The boy who never cried broke completely in the ruins of the corridor.
“You were supposed to outsmart all of us. You were supposed to keep matching my stupid banter. Wake up and call me an idiot again. Please.”
Pansy turned into Daphne’s arms, crying harder as Daphne held her tight, tears silently tracking down her own cheeks.
The boys stood in a loose circle, faces pale and devastated. Enzo looked away, jaw clenched. Blaise’s usual composure shattered as he stared at the ground. Draco’s hands trembled at his sides. Theo placed a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder but said nothing — there were no words.
Outside the castle, the final confrontation unfolded. Voldemort emerged from the Forbidden Forest with his followers, Hagrid walking brokenly behind him, carrying what everyone believed was Harry Potter’s lifeless body. The defenders of Hogwarts — students, teachers, Order members — stood gathered on the grounds, faces etched with grief and exhaustion as Voldemort’s voice rang out, announcing Harry’s death and demanding surrender.
Inside the ruined castle corridor, the Slytherins stayed clustered around Mattheo as he continued to break, whispering broken apologies into your hair, begging you to come back.
Then — outside — Harry fell from Hagrid’s arms.
Gasps and shouts erupted as the Boy Who Lived rose, alive. The duel between Harry and Voldemort ignited. Wands connected in a burst of light. Harry shouted “Expelliarmus!” Voldemort screamed the Killing Curse.
After minutes of tense silence, the Elder Wand flew from Voldemort’s hand. The Dark Lord fell — dead.
In the sudden, stunned silence that followed, something miraculous happened inside the castle.
Your finger twitched.
Enzo noticed first. His eyes widened. “Mattheo…”
Mattheo didn’t hear him at first, still lost in grief.
Then your eyelids fluttered.
You gasped sharply, bolting upright as though breaking free from ice, chest heaving as air rushed back into your lungs.
The entire group froze in shock.
Mattheo’s head snapped up. His tear-streaked face went blank with disbelief, then flooded with raw, overwhelming relief.
You blinked, disoriented, looking around at the devastated corridor and the circle of devastated faces staring at you.
Your hand lifted weakly to Mattheo’s wet cheek, thumb brushing away a tear.
“Hey… why are you crying?” you whispered, voice hoarse but steady.
Mattheo let out a broken sound — half sob, half laugh — and crushed you against his chest, arms wrapping around you so tightly it was almost painful. His hands shook violently as he held you, heart racing so hard you could feel it against your own.
“I thought I lost you,” he rasped into your hair, voice thick with emotion. “I thought the Killing Curse hit you. I Stupefied you — I had to — to save you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
You hugged him back just as fiercely, understanding flooding through the confusion.
“You saved me,” you murmured. “You always do.”
The rest watched in stunned silence as the two of you clung to each other amid the ruins — Pansy crying tears of relief now, Daphne smiling through her own tears, the boys exhaling shaky breaths as the weight of grief lifted.
Around you, cheers were rising as news of Voldemort’s defeat spread.
But inside, in that broken corridor, the real victory was this: you were alive, breathing, and back in Mattheo’s arms.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes searching your face like he was memorizing every detail.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he said, voice rough but laced with that familiar sharp affection.
You smiled weakly, brushing his hair back.
“I won't. Only as long as you're by my side.”
Mattheo laughed — a real, watery laugh — and kissed you fiercely, pouring every ounce of fear, love, and relief into it.
Around you, students and teachers began to flood in, gathering lost loved ones, friends reuniting, laughter and the sounds of crying all around.
The war was over. The darkness had lifted.
And in the middle of the ruins, the boy who was supposed to be a villain held the girl who had stolen his heart — and his book — and finally let himself believe in a future worth fighting for.
This is probably the longest thing I've written till now, I still wish I wrote a bit more.
SUMMARY: Theodore Nott thought surviving Dueling Club would be the hardest part of his week. Turns out, surviving his angry girlfriend was significantly worse.
Based off of this request. @red--roses hope you like it<3
You were furious.
It wasn’t the fact that Theodore had gotten hurt in Dueling Club. It was the fact that you had to hear it from Lavender Brown — three days later — that he’d taken a nasty curse to the ribs and had been walking around like nothing happened.
So when he finally found you in your room that evening, you didn’t even let him speak first.
“You got hurt,” you said flatly, arms crossed. “And you didn’t tell me.”
Theo sighed, running a hand through his messy brown hair. “It wasn’t serious. I handled it.”
“That’s not the point, Theodore.” You used his full name like a weapon.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“I’m your girlfriend. You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle. You don’t get to keep me in the dark ‘for my own good.’”
“I was protecting you,” he said quietly, jaw tight. “You already worry enough.”
“I’m not a child,” you snapped. “If you can’t trust me with the truth, then what are we even doing?”
The argument ended in a tense stalemate. Theo tried to reach for you, but you stepped back and left him standing there.
And that’s when you decided on petty terrorism.
The next evening, the entire friend group was gathered in the Slytherin common room for a casual dinner.
You sat right next to Theo like nothing was wrong — except everything was wrong, and you were making sure he felt it.
You picked up a piece of spaghetti with your fork, looked him dead in the eyes, and cut it cleanly in half.
Mattheo choked on his drink.
Theo’s eyes flicked to the broken pasta, then back to your face. He said nothing.
Pansy’s eyebrows shot up. Daphne pressed her lips together, trying not to smile.
Later, when Theo reached for the salt, you moved it just out of his reach.
When he gave you a look, you smiled sweetly.
“Communication is so important in relationships, don’t you think, Pansy?” you asked.
Pansy nearly lost it. “Oh my god.”
Enzo was grinning like an idiot. Blaise leaned back in his chair, thoroughly entertained. Even Draco looked amused.
Theo's jaw ticked. You weren't done.
When Mattheo asked Theo something about Quidditch practice, you turned to Mattheo with an innocent expression.
“Do you actually listen when people talk to you, Mattheo? Or do you also decide what people can and can’t handle?”
Mattheo laughed, raising his hands slightly. “I’m not getting involved in this.”
Theo finally spoke, voice low.
“Can we talk?”
You blinked at him, feigning innocence. “About what, Theodore?”
Blaise muttered under his breath, “She’s evil. I respect it.”
Later that night, you “accidentally” moved Theo’s bookmark three chapters forward in the book he was reading.
When he noticed, he gave you a long, tired look.
You just smiled and went back to your own book.
The group was losing their minds in the background.
“Ten galleons says she wins,” Enzo whispered.
“I’m not betting against her,” Pansy replied. “She’s unhinged right now.”
Theo eventually cornered you near the fireplace when most people had gone to bed.
He looked exhausted.
“Are you done?” he asked.
You crossed your arms. “Are you going to stop hiding things from me?”
He stepped closer, voice softening.
“I thought I was protecting you. I hate worrying you. I hate seeing you scared because of me.”
“I’m more scared when I find out from other people that you’re hurt,” you said, voice cracking just a little. “I’m your girlfriend, Theo. Let me be there for you. Even when it’s ugly.”
Theo stared at you for a long moment, then pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ll tell you next time. Even if it’s stupid and small.”
You hugged him back, tension finally draining from your shoulders.
“…You’re still Theodore for the rest of the week though,” you mumbled against his chest.
He let out a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling through him.
“Fair enough.”
You smiled into his sweater.
Because no matter what, he was still your Theodore.
I've finally gotten enough motivation to go through my drafts and publish them lol.
SUMMARY: Christmas break leaves Hogwarts quieter than ever, until Theodore Nott follows you home to Sicily — where soft kisses, warm kitchens, loud family dinners, and moonlit confessions begin to heal parts of him he thought were ruined forever.
A/N: Characters aged up!! 18+ content ahead.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
The castle had grown quieter overnight. Christmas holidays had officially begun the day before, and most students had already left for home.
Draco and Mattheo had gone to Malfoy Manor, Pansy and Daphne had departed for their respective families, and now Enzo and Blaise were standing in the Slytherin common room with their trunks, saying their goodbyes.
“Try not to burn the castle down while we’re gone,” Blaise smirked, pulling you into a quick hug.
Enzo grinned as he clapped Theo on the back.
“And don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”
Theo raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t leave much.”
You laughed softly, waving as the two boys finally headed toward the carriages.
Once they were gone, the common room felt strangely empty. Only you and Theo remained. He turned to you, sliding his hand into yours.
“Come with me.”
You followed him to his dorm. With the others gone, the room was completely silent — just the faint crackle of the fireplace and the sound of your footsteps.
Theo closed the door behind you, then pulled you gently toward him.
For a while, you simply stood there, kissing him. His hands rested on your waist, thumbs brushing under the hem of your sweater. The kiss deepened gradually, growing heavier.
Theo walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of his bed, then lowered you onto it with careful control. He hovered over you, grey-blue eyes dark with want.
Theo’s fingers hooked gently into the waistband of your underwear before he paused, looking up at you through messy brown hair.
“You sure?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, pulling him down by his shirt.
“Yes.”
Clothes came off piece by piece.
Theo took his time, kissing down your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, until you were squirming beneath him.
When he finally pushed inside you, you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” he breathed against your neck.
He started slow, rolling his hips in a steady rhythm that made your toes curl. But as your moans grew louder, his pace quickened, turning rougher, more desperate.
One hand gripped your thigh, the other braced beside your head.
“Così stretta per me,” (So tight for me.) he groaned, voice low and rough.
You moaned at his words.
He kept going, switching between deep, slow strokes and sharper thrusts that had you crying out his name.
The sound of skin against skin filled the room along with your mixed moans and Italian curses slipping from his lips.
When you came, clenching hard around him, Theo followed shortly after, burying himself deep with a low groan and a few breathy words you barely caught.
Afterward, he didn’t pull away immediately.
He stayed inside you for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
Then he gently pulled out, got up, and returned with a warm, damp towel.
He cleaned you up carefully, wiping between your legs with slow, tender strokes, pressing soft kisses to your stomach and thighs the whole time.
“Come here,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms once you were both clean.
A few hours later, you were both in bed again.
Theo wore only black shorts, and you were half on top of him, head resting on his bare chest while he played with your hair.
You were talking quietly about nothing important when a loud thud made you both jump.
An owl had slammed against the window.
Theo got up, opened the window, and took the letter.
He scanned it quickly, then let out a slow breath.
“He said yes,” he told you, voice steady but clearly relieved. “I can stay with you for the holidays.”
You smiled brightly and pulled him back into bed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
“Good. Because I wasn’t planning on leaving without you.”
The next day, you took the Hogwarts Express back to London, then apparated with Theo to your family home in Sicily.
Your family lived in a beautiful villa overlooking the sea. As soon as you stepped inside, warmth and the smell of fresh food greeted you.
“Tesoro!” your mother, Giulia, called out, pulling you into a tight hug.
She was elegant, with warm brown eyes and dark hair pinned neatly.
She turned to Theo with a kind smile.
“You must be Theodore. We’ve heard so much about you.”
Theo gave a small, respectful nod.
“Thank you for having me, signora.”
Your nonna, Rosa, appeared next, wiping her hands on her apron.
She took one look at Theo and immediately cupped his face.
“Che bel ragazzo! Handsome!” (What a nice boy!)
Your eight-year-old little sister, Sofia, peeked out from behind your nonna’s skirt, then grinned shyly.
“You’re tall,” she declared.
Theo’s lips twitched.
“And you’re very observant.”
Sofia decided right then that she liked him.
Dinner was an absolute feast — homemade pasta al pomodoro, fresh seafood, eggplant parmigiana, and warm bread with herbs.
Theo ate quietly at first, but you noticed the way his expression softened with every bite. The flavors reminded him so strongly of his mother’s cooking that his eyes grew distant for a moment.
“This is… really good,” he said quietly to your mother. “Thank you.”
Giulia smiled warmly.
“Eat as much as you want. You’re family now.”
The days that followed were peaceful and full.
In the evenings, you played board games together. Sofia constantly tried to cheat and giggled wildly whenever Theo caught her. He pretended to be stern but always let her win in the end.
During the afternoons, the three of you explored Sicily. You took Sofia to the beach, where she dragged Theo into the water and made him build sandcastles with her.
You watched them from the shore, heart swelling as Theo patiently explained to your sister how to make the towers stronger.
One evening, after Sofia had gone to bed, you and Theo sat on the terrace overlooking the sea.
He was unusually quiet.
“What are you thinking about?” you asked, leaning against him.
He stared at the water for a long moment before answering.
“I’ve been watching you with Sofia,” he said softly. “The way you take care of her… It made me think… what it would be like to have that with you someday. A family.”
You turned to look at him, surprised.
Theo rarely spoke about the future.
He continued, voice low.
“I don’t know if I’d be any good at it. But for you… I’d try. I’d try to be better than what I had.”
You cupped his face and kissed him gently.
“You already are better, Theo. You’re nothing like him.”
He pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head as the Sicilian breeze washed over you both.
For the first time in years, Theodore Nott felt something dangerously close to hope.
This took way longer to post than it should've argh
Taglist<3: @ressya @mrsjohnnysuh @janasdaylight @bambi-cloud9 @maradcrs @piayaluvsya @iheartharrypotter @froggiedragon @renchai @awhimsicalrhapsody1612 @ghostsfavknife @noir-moons @superlegend216 @arshiyuh @riri87235 @altnfree @mxryxmfooty
Summary: Theodore Nott has one problem: his girlfriend's cat absolutely hates him. After weeks of failed peace offerings, public humiliation, and an unexpected kitten rescue, Salem finally decides Theodore is worthy of approval—though life with the mischievous cat is still far from easy.
The first time Salem hissed at Theodore Nott, nobody thought much of it.
Cats hissed. Theodore was a Slytherin. It happened.
The second time, Salem launched himself off a windowsill like a furry missile and smacked Theodore directly in the face.
That got people's attention.
Especially because Salem loved everyone.
Professors.
Students.
Ghosts.
He'd once sat in the lap of a complete stranger from Durmstrang during a school visit.
But Theodore?
Apparently he was public enemy number one.
"You know," Theodore said flatly, pulling black fur off his robes, "I think your cat is possessed."
You looked down at Salem, who was purring loudly in your arms.
"He's literally purring."
"He's purring because he thinks he won."
Salem blinked slowly.
Theodore narrowed his eyes.
Salem narrowed his back.
It felt like a challenge.
—
The rivalry continued.
For weeks.
You'd be sitting with Theodore in the library when Salem would appear from absolutely nowhere.
The cat would jump onto the table.
Walk directly across Theodore's notes.
Sit on Theodore's homework.
And stare.
Just stare.
Theodore would stare back.
Neither moved.
It became so common that students started placing bets.
"Three sickles says the cat wins."
"The cat always wins."
"That's true."
Theodore hated that they were right.
—
One afternoon you arrived at the Great Hall to find Theodore sitting alone.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
Theodore never sat alone voluntarily.
Then you noticed the small saucer beside him.
"What is that?"
He looked up.
"Tuna."
"Tuna?"
"Tuna."
You stared.
Theodore stared back.
Then you looked down.
Salem was sitting directly across from him.
Also staring.
The entire table had gone quiet.
Everyone was watching.
Waiting.
Theodore slowly pushed the saucer forward.
Salem sniffed it.
The room held its breath.
Then Salem slapped Theodore's hand.
Hard.
The saucer tipped over.
Tuna went everywhere.
The Slytherin table erupted into laughter.
You nearly fell off the bench.
Theodore looked personally offended.
"I bought that."
Salem walked away.
—
The next strategy involved toys.
It failed.
Salem stole the toy.
Then ignored Theodore.
—
The third strategy involved treats.
Salem accepted the treats.
Then hissed anyway.
—
The fourth strategy involved Theodore attempting to have a heartfelt conversation with him.
You found him in an empty classroom.
Talking to a cat.
"You don't even know me."
Salem blinked.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot."
Salem yawned.
"I care about her."
Salem turned around.
And walked away.
Theodore sat there in silence.
"Did I just get rejected by a cat?"
"Yes."
—
The situation became famous around Hogwarts.
Students would stop Theodore in hallways.
"How's the cat?"
"Not speaking to me."
"Any progress?"
"No."
"Thoughts and prayers."
Theodore threatened several people.
It changed nothing.
—
Then winter arrived.
Snow covered the castle grounds.
The air turned sharp and cold.
And one evening, after dinner, you couldn't find Salem anywhere.
Normally that wouldn't be unusual.
But Salem always came back eventually.
This time he didn't.
An hour passed.
Then two.
Then three.
Your stomach twisted.
You searched the common room.
The library.
The courtyards.
Every classroom you could think of.
Nothing.
By midnight you were genuinely worried.
"Theodore."
He immediately looked up from his book.
"What happened?"
"I can't find Salem."
Theodore was already standing before you finished speaking.
—
For the next two hours, both of you searched Hogwarts.
Every corridor.
Every staircase.
Every hidden corner.
Still nothing.
You tried not to panic.
Tried being the important word.
Because Salem had never disappeared this long.
"What if he's hurt?"
"He's fine."
"What if he's not?"
"He is."
"What if—"
"He is."
Theodore's voice was firm.
Certain.
Even if he wasn't completely sure.
—
Eventually they checked outside.
Snow crunched beneath their shoes.
The grounds were almost completely empty.
Wind swept across the lake.
Then Theodore stopped.
"What?"
He pointed.
A small black shape sat beneath a stone bench.
You immediately ran.
"Salem!"
The cat let out a tiny meow.
You dropped to your knees.
Relief hit so hard it almost hurt.
Then you noticed something.
Salem wasn't alone.
Curled around him was a tiny gray kitten.
Ridiculously small.
Shivering.
"Oh."
Theodore crouched beside you.
"Oh."
Salem looked incredibly pleased with himself.
As if he'd solved world hunger.
The tiny kitten peeked up at them.
Then sneezed.
—
Back inside the castle, the kitten received food, blankets, and approximately thirty-seven minutes of attention.
Salem supervised.
Naturally.
The tiny kitten refused to leave Theodore's lap.
Which was ironic.
Considering Salem hated him.
Theodore sat perfectly still.
The kitten asleep against his chest.
You smiled.
"You look good with a cat."
"Don't tell anyone."
"Too late."
—
Salem watched from nearby.
Suspiciously.
Theodore noticed.
"Don't start."
Salem blinked.
"You've spent months terrorizing me."
Blink.
"I helped find your child."
Blink.
"You owe me."
Salem stood up.
Walked across the room.
And jumped into Theodore's lap.
The entire room went silent.
Theodore froze.
You froze.
Even the kitten looked surprised.
Salem settled down beside the sleeping kitten.
Curled up.
And began purring.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then—
"Oh my god."
Theodore looked horrified.
"You saw that."
"I saw that."
"He likes me."
"He likes you."
Theodore looked genuinely proud.
Like he'd just won a Quidditch championship.
Salem immediately ruined the moment by stealing one of Theodore's buttons.
But still.
Progress.
At last.
And from that day on, Salem no longer treated Theodore like a sworn enemy.
Synopsis: theodore requests you to join him at the annual winter ball for fraternities. as always, theo manages to make you feel basically invisible next to him. on your way to get some air you run into an old (male) friend. jealousy ensues and theo drags you into a random bathroom just to show you how good he makes you feel.
Pairing: frat boy! Theodore Nott x f! reader
Content: 18+ MINORS DNI - reader is wearing a dress, mentions of hair and makeup being done, google translate italian, cursing, suggestive talk straight off the bat, mentions of consuming alcohol, theo being a twat, theo being jealous for no reason, porn with plot, (kind of) risky/public sex, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), ass slapping, hands bound w/ belt, power dynamic, dom! theo, sub! reader, insults during intimacy (slut), oral (m and f receiving), multiple f orgasms, choking, throat fcking, mirror sex, breeding kink if you squint (creampie), no aftercare
Word Count: 3.9k
Note: i don't even know what to say tbh. i had to take a moment and think about my life choices mid writing the content warnings... ANYWAY- i think this fic is really hot and i might've went a bit overboard but i'll let you guys decide. hope you all enjoy my horny hours. also- this is my holiday post! not super holiday centered but it's set during December so.. happy holidays! i proof read myself, so i'm sorry if theres some bad grammar or whatever. thank you for reading! you're all wonderful :))
Frat boy AU
Two months ago, Theo came to you with the invite to accompany him to your universities annual fraternity winter ball.
"What, like as a date?" You side-eyed him, trying not to smile.
His eyes rolled at your comment, "No- I want to have a pretty girl to show off."
His response honestly really irked you, but that's an issue for another day.
Today, you found yourself sat on the floor of Theo's room in front of a full length mirror finishing your makeup and hair. You could see Theo walking towards his bed in the reflection of the mirror. He was clothed only with his dress pants on to expose his bare chest to the cool December air. You caught the sight of the beard he had been growing this past month, all of his brothers doing "no shave November". The facial hair had made you feel some certain type of way. The sensation of the hair scratching your chin anytime you kissed sent shivers down your spine. And don't even start with how it felt when he went down on you..
HOWEVER, that was not what tonight was about. The winter ball was an important event that brought all of the fraternities together, celebrating the charity fundraising they had done the past year. The expectations for the night were high, everyone was to be on their best behavior.
Theo put on his white button up, standing behind you to fix his collar. "The party bus should be here soon, you better get your dress on."
You waved him off over your shoulder, "I'll get ready on my own terms, thank you very much."
"You know I'll leave your pretty ass behind." He scoffed. He picked up his belt off the floor- the same belt that had been used on you in a multitude of different occasions.
Blood rushed to your face, adding to the blush you had already applied. You weren't sure if it was the compliment mixed with a threat or the memories of the belt.. You looked down into your makeup bag in an attempt to hide your physical reaction to him.
One of his frat brothers called his name from downstairs, something about starting their pre-game. Theo grabbed his suit jacket and Oxfords (which he never failed to remind everyone around him they were made with real Italian leather straight from Milan). "I'll be downstairs. Don't take forever."
You hummed a response as he slipped out of the door, closing it behind him. You stood and walked into the bathroom where your dress was hanging from the shower curtain pole. You felt the satin texture under your fingers as you removed it from the hanger.
It was the most beautiful dress you had ever laid eyes on. A red empire style formal gown with a slit running up the length of your right leg. You felt gorgeous, spinning in the mirror to admire yourself. The black kitten heels slipped onto your feet easily, hoping they wouldn't kill you by the end of the night.
You heard the front door downstairs open, followed by Theo calling your name from the bottom of the stairwell. "Hurry up, cara!"
You shuffled out of the room as fast as you could without tripping, turning the corner of the hall to see Theo standing on the last step. When he saw you, he stood up taller and you could've sworn you saw him slightly straighten his jacket.
"La mia bellezza.." His words were quiet while his eyes never left your figure descending the stairs. He reached his hand up to help you steady yourself.
Both feet made contact with the first floor before you reached for the tie donning his neck, "You look very handsome."
His hands landed on your waist almost as to ground himself. He kept scanning your body, taking in the beauty that stood in front of him. He met your eyes, pulling you into a deep kiss. The smell of his cologne flooded your senses the closer he pulled you in, the familiar scent of a bonfire crackling during a warm summer night.
He finally pulled back when he heard his name called from outside. His right hand raised as an invitation for you to exit the door ahead of him. In the same motion of you turning on the balls of your feet, you felt a firm hand make quick contact with your ass. You tried to act mad- but how could you when he looked at you like you fulfilled his every fantasy?
The party bus was warm, Theo's arm slung around your shoulder with flasks of whiskey making the rounds. You could feel the burning eyes of your "date" hot on your skin. His fingers drew shapes on your bare shoulder mid conversation with his friends.
~
The ballroom that the event was held in was breathtaking. The room was casted in a warm glow, coming from both the chandeliers and Christmas lights. Circular tables with red napkins for accents and holly-focused centerpieces. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, reaching out to touch the high ceiling. A string quartet played quietly next to it. The room was full of fraternity members from all chapters at your university; Girls who were invited as plus-ones hung on off their arms. Working attendants made their way through the crowd with trays of appetizers and champagne flutes.
Theodore's hand sat possessively on your hip, making it near impossible for you to stray from his side. There was a stark contrast in his possessive hold and the way he would introduce you to guys from other frats.
He mingled with some other fraternity guys that he had met at past charity or university events. They were always beaming to introduce their girlfriend to everyone else in attendance. You even heard a few "fiancée's" thrown in there as a sparkling daddies-money ring was flashed in front of you.
The conversation would start, shaking hands and saying the usual lines of how long its been. When the spotlight shifted onto Theo for him to introduce the girl hugged into his side, it seemed like he almost forgot you were there until he looked over. His eyes would trail over to you, lips holding the most pursed smile you had ever seen. He'd say your name and then look directly back to the other guy, "Just a.. friend."
Some of the guys caught his bullshit, eyebrow raising with all sorts of questions when the word "friend" left his mouth. Their eyes would make note of his hand pressed tightly into your waist before ever so slightly shaking their heads to focus back on what they were talking about. A lot of the girls shot you sympathetic looks almost telepathically telling you to fucking RUN. However, when you looked up at Theo and your pupils dilated.. It reminded you of the hold this man had over you. If you hadn't known any better you would've bet money he placed some sort of curse on you.
You leaned into Theodore's ear as he was talking with someone else, "I'm gonna go find the bathroom."
He nodded and tapped the pads of his fingers on your lower back twice. You navigated your way through the crowd of people, smiling at some of the people you recognized. You found your way into a quieter room that had a nice fireplace and some gorgeous white furniture that people were relaxing on. You heard your name called from behind you while you were peaking down hallways to find the washroom.
You turned around to see Cormac, an old friend that you used to be in a study group with. He was sat on one of the couches, a short glass in his hand was filled with some sort of alcohol.
You smiled, turning to walk towards him. "Oh my gosh, Cormac? How are you?"
He stood from his seat, carefully maneuvering the glass around you to give you a hug. "I've been good. It's been a while.." He smiled, pulling back from the hug, "Here, sit down."
You gently sat on the faux leather; The fabric of your dress contorted to your sitting position, exposing your bare right leg. He sat down next to you, turning his body so his arm holding the glass was propped against the back of the couch. "You look good. Damn, it feels like it's been forever." A smirk appeared on his lips as he took a sip of the drink.
"You're not too bad yourself." You smiled, watching his eyes read over your dress. It had to have been well over a year since you last saw him. You both took a few general classes together which allowed you to get to know him. "Why are you here?"
His shoulders shrugged, "I got into Sigma Chi as a legacy last year. My dad was the president when he went here and wasn't fond of the idea of me not following in his footsteps."
You hummed, head slightly nodding. "Oh- It seems like you don't want to be apart of it?"
He shrugged again, taking another sip from his glass. "Wasn't apart of my plans, but I guess it's a good network to be apart of."
Your mouth opened to respond when you heard your name barked from behind you. A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, a hand you knew all to well. "Got lost finding the bathroom?" Theo's eyes glanced at you, dark and angry.
"No, I- I just ran into an old friend." You tried to keep your voice even as to not rile up Theodore even more.
Theodore nodded, eyes turning towards your friend in a threatening manner. Cormac extended his free hand towards Theo, "Cormac.. I used to be in some classes with her."
Theo barely acknowledged the words he spoke, looking at the hand a few inches away from him and ignoring it. "I've been looking all over for you. It's been like fifteen minutes." His voice was low as he slid his fingers down your arm to take your hand.
"Yeah, I was just talking to him. We haven't seen each other in a while."
Cormac's eyes flicked between you, sitting up straighter. "So- Are you.. together?"
The darkness in Theo's eyes deepened- if that was even possible- when he looked back towards your friend. You felt your arm being tugged, pulling you from your seat. You stumbled on your heels, grabbing for Theo's shoulder. "None of your fucking business, mate." He had already begun to walk away, dragging your hand with him.
You looked behind you for a quick second to see Cormac's confused face. Your balance was off, heels tapping against the fancy marble floor while Theo just kept on walking. "What is wrong with you?!"
He dragged you down an empty corridor, spinning you to look directly at him. His breath was hot, "What's wrong with ME? What's wrong with you?" His index finger pushed into your sternum. "You tell me your going to the bathroom and then force me to come find you talking to another dude?"
"I didn't force you to do shit." You moved your face closer to his, challenging him. "I was catching up with a friend, you're the one who saw it as something else. Not my fucking fault you're jealous."
One of his hands quickly grabbed the back of your neck, forcing your mouths together. His tongue slipped past your lips as to claim some sort of dominance. You felt your face become hot as you realized the setting of which this was happening. Theo had you letting out small gasps when he bit your bottom lip, all while you stood in a barely lit hallway.
He pulled away, his hand still squeezing the skin on the back of your neck. His eyes glanced around and remembered where you were. He looked back at you with his face so close that your noses brushed together, "We're gonna find a private bathroom that I can fuck you in so hard you forget about that stronzo."
You barely had a moment to process what was said before he grabbed your wrist, pulling you down abandoned hallways. The two of you swiftly walked up a stairwell in a spot of the estate you didn't even know was there. You tried your hardest to be quiet on the hardwood floor as Theo tried different doorknobs.
Theo found one door deep into the second floor that was unlocked. He pushed the door open, hand slamming against the wall to flick the light switch. You were dragged in to one of the fanciest bathrooms you had ever stepped foot in; perfect white tiled floor with a soapstone counter you could almost see your reflection in. The mirror had those expensive LED lights behind them, illuminating the room in a cool light.
In one motion, Theodore pinned you against the door as he locked you both in. You could barely get a breath before he kissed you so hard that your teeth clashed together. His hands grabbed at your thighs, pulling your one leg onto his hip. You planted your hands on his chest, pushing gently against him for just a second of air.
"I swear you do this shit on purpose." His voice spoke against your mouth. You caught a slight scent of alcohol on his lips.
You looked up at him, your voice quiet and sultry. "All we did was talk."
"I don't mean that," He picked you up so both your legs were now wrapped around his waist. He shifted to bring you over to the counter, setting you down so he was between your parted knees. "I'm talking about this damn dress.."
His hands traveled up your sides until he found the curve of your breasts. "I wanted to take it off you the second I saw you walking down those stairs, bella." His one hand slipped under the top of your dress, his thumb and index finger teasing your nipple.
Your head fell back slightly at the sensation, "Well, why didn't you then?"
"-wanted to see you walk around in it for a while," His mouth dragged against your neck, landing under your ear for a moment. "Fuck.. You should've seen your ass in this thing." With the last word he bit down on your skin.
Your hand grabbed for the hair at the nape of his neck, arching your chest closer to his. He took that as an invitation to attach his mouth to your chest, sucking at the skin of your tits. "Jesus- Theo.." You were already breathless at his hasteful movements. You slipped a hand between your bodies, reaching for the hard-on that now showed behind his zipper.
He pulled back from you, grabbing your wandering hand with a strong grip. "No..." He smirked at you, pulling your hand behind your back. "You're not the one in charge here, bambina." With his free hand, he quickly undid his belt and slid it away from himself. He grabbed both your wrists, pushing you forward into him so he could see over your shoulder. At this point, he could've bound your wrists together without looking- But he liked watching you struggle against his grasp.
The warm leather was pulled tight against your wrists, the buckle locking your hands together. He nudged you backwards again, mouthing at your jaw while he did so. His lips brushed yours but he held back to not give you the pleasure of a full kiss. "So pretty when you can't do anything to help yourself.."
"You're infuriating.." You breathed against him.
He hummed, head cocking to the side. His hands found their way under your dress, moving the fabric out of the way so he could kneel between your legs. The grin on his face grew when he saw the absence of panties. He looked up through his half-lidded eyes, "Were you hoping for something, slut?"
Before you could answer, he dragged your hips towards him forcing your elbows to make contact with the cold countertop. His tongue pressed flatly against you before licking up to your clit. You gasped out, trying to move against the belt that had no give. His saliva began mixing with your slick, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves every so often. His facial hair scratched against you in a way that made you hope he never shaved again.
Your thighs squeezed against his ears, "I- oh my.. fuck-." All you could do was ramble incoherently as his mouth alone brought you to the edge. Your head fell back, bumping against the mirror. Theo massaged your thighs while they shook against him, tongue lapping up your orgasm.
When the shaking subsided, he rose back to his feet. He pulled you towards him with his hand wrapping around your neck, applying the perfect amount of pressure. He kissed you just so he could force you to taste yourself on his tongue. His beard glistened with remnants of your pleasure when he pulled back. "So fucking good..." He whispered but you could barely hear it, the lack of oxygen to your brain was dizzying.
He picked you up off the counter to place you on your feet, only for you to fall to your knees. The tight fabric of his pants was now directly in front of your face. You glanced up at him through your eyelashes. Theodore moved to pull his suit jacket off his shoulders, averting his gaze from you for only a second. You seized the opportunity, mouthing at his clothed erection.
He grabbed your hair, pulling your head back to look fully at him. He stood in his white button up that was tight in just the right spots. "You wanna taste me?" His jawline was sharp due to his short breaths.
You nodded, letting out a pathetic "mmhmm.. yeah."
He dropped your hair from his hands, unbuttoning and pulling the zipper down from his pants. His cock nearly smacked you in the face when he finally freed himself. It was perfectly pink, the tip already leaking just at him eating you out.
You licked up the slit, coating your tongue in precum. Theo breathed heavily above you as you felt him reach his hands out to stabilize himself on the counter. You took just the end of his cock into your mouth, taking a moment to appreciate it.
"Fuck-" Theo's voice was gravely as he looked down at you. "Take all of it, you fuckin' slut." His hips moved forwards, pushing the rest of him into your mouth.
You tried to quickly adjust to his sudden movements, doing your best to take all of him as it touched the back of your throat. Your hands pulled at the belt confining them, wanting so desperately to touch Theo. Drool began to escape your lips when your tongue slid across the underside of his cock.
"So good.." Theo reached a hand down to caress the top of your head as his hips pulled back. He smiled down at you, it wasn't long before that smile turned sinister.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair just to shove himself back into your mouth. Your eyes widened at the feeling of him keeping your head in place just so he could slam his cock down your throat. You desperately tried to breath out of your nose, hands pushing against the leather binding them together.
It went on for a few seconds before you started to gag around him, saliva mixed with his precum coated your chin. Theo's body began to shake, "Fuckin hell- oh my.. porca miseria." He pulled his erection from your mouth, hands flying down to lift you off the floor. His words were quick and ragged as he spun you so your chest laid against the counter. "Get up- I'm g'na finish in you, cara."
Before you could even protest, he threw the fabric over your waist to expose your ass. He pushed his hand down against your upper back, forcing you to arch into the cold stone. His other hand grabbed your hip just to help himself slam into your core.
You gasped, "Holy- fuck!" Your forehead pressed against the stone in an effort to calm yourself. He pulled you back onto his crotch, hips slamming towards you. It made an erotic noise ring through the bathroom, skin hitting skin mixed with the wetness between your legs.
He pulled his hand back to give your ass a sharp slap. You cried out when you felt his hard hand come down, you were sure you would wake up with a bruise tomorrow. "I- Theo.." Your words barely made sense as they spilled out of your mouth, "-M so close.. Gonna cum.." Your voice was strained from the moans being ripped out of your lungs.
"Good- Cum on me, slut." His hips quickened to a brutal pace. He wrapped a hand around your throat, pulling you back into his chest. "Look at yourself while I wreck you.." He was barely able to finish his sentence before he moaned against your ear.
You blinked through the tears of pleasure so you could watch Theo fuck you into next Tuesday in the mirror. His eyes met yours in the reflection, eyes dark and pupils blown. It only took a few more thrusts for you to come undone on him. Your chin dropped against Theo's hand on your throat, body basically crumbling onto the counter.
Theo came quickly after you, his movements stuttering as you felt the warmth of his release in your lower tummy. The room was filled with short curses as you both tried to catch your breath. Theodore inhaled deeply above you, lifting himself off of you. He slapped your ass one final time, making you squirm at the same time he pulled out. You felt the mix of your orgasms drip down your thighs.
"Fuck-" Theo grabbed your wrists to release them from their confines. Your skin was sensitive from the friction that occurred.
You lifted yourself onto your elbows, rubbing your eyes to try and get the fog out of your brain. Behind you, Theodore tugged his trousers back up to tuck his spent cock away. He casually slid the belt back through the loops on his waist.
You stood up straight, turning just to have to reach behind you to stabilize yourself again. Theo chuckled at you, picking his jacket up from the floor. "Pull yourself together, bella." He took a step towards you to meet in a languid kiss.
You adjusted your dress so the fabric draped to cover yourself again. You watched Theo as he stood there, looking at you try to compose yourself. "How am I gonna walk past everyone out there like this?" Your words were breathless.
He shook his head, moving to help you put his suit jacket over your arms. "If anyone asks.. you drank too many champagne flutes and got really sick up here."
You nodded, pushing yourself off the counter just to be met by Theo's hold. He swept your legs under you, cradling you in his arms. He bent towards the door, fingers leaving your body for a second to twist the lock. "Act tired."
You sighed, head falling against his shoulder. "I don't have to act.."
Theodore Nott was the type of guy who preferred silence. A quiet, perceptive boy, whose head was a neatly sorted library where each thought had its own shelf. And like any other library, it had a simple rule—no loud noises, no talking, and no ravishing his brain with waffle.
You, on the contrary, were the most infuriating, inveterate (and favourite) chatterbox in his life. You would rather die than stop your mouth from constant running. Professor Flitwick praised you for a perfectly executed spell? Pansy would hear an earful until she started begging with teary eyes for you to finally shut up. Daphne Greengrass nearly pushed you off the Grand Staircase and didn’t even look at you? Fuck, Astoria better be ready to hear what you think about her sister down to the smallest detail.
It was a mystery for everyone how two such opposites could even exist alongside each other. Oh, the answer was pretty simple—he was the only one doing all the talking when there were only the two of you.
Well, someone must do something with you. Killing you was not an option—your house would lose the greatest asset that could easily sweet-talk Professor Slughorn into calling off the test that, surely, nobody had been prepared for. Or defuse the tension between Draco Malfoy and Mattheo Riddle, who had gone at each other like two mad dogs again over yet another nonsense.
So, there was no better candidate to save Hogwarts from you—Theodore Nott would take that burden upon himself.
***
“Fuck, cara mia, just like that.” A raspy groan sent another heated, syrupy liquid down your insides. “Taking me so well... Your mouth was made for my cock, yeah? Look at me when I talk to you.”
It was hard to concentrate on Theo’s flushed face when hot tears were streaming down your cheeks. His hand gave your hair a harsh, impatient tug, forcing you to take another inch of him down your throat. Your nails were digging into his thighs, as if you were trying to push him away, allowing you just a moment to take a breath and not to choke around his thick length.
“Th—” your muffled grunts were so addictive to his ears, curving Theo’s lips into a wry smirk.
“I can’t hear you, tesoro. Is it too much for your little mouth? Tell me.” He bent down slightly, his grip on your hair tightened, a painful prickling scratched the back of your head.
You looked up at him—eyes gleaming in the dim light of his dormitory—and jerked in his hold, but Theo’s dark chuckle rumbled somewhere inside his chest.
“Oh, I’m starting to miss your voice since you’ve been so quiet lately.” A playful taunt added another layer into insatiable arousal that had been pooling in your lower stomach the whole evening and set your whole body on fire. Maybe even the cold stone floor against your knees was beginning to melt from the stifling heat in the room.
You sucked on his cock again, tongue tracing the throbbing vein just underside of it. Theo let out a deep growl, his free hand cupped your tear-stained cheek, thumb gently brushed away the remaining salty drop.
“I know you can do better that this, non è vero? Amore, don’t disappoint me.” He gave you an encouraging pat, only to push his cock further down your mouth afterwards. The tip grazing the back of your throat, a choked sob coursed violently through your entire body. Theo moaned at the vibration, his half-lidded eyes hungrily watching you drool all over your chin, bruised lips stretching around him so lovely he couldn’t stop grinning at the view before him.
You hollowed your cheeks just like he loved it; the head-spinning musky scent of his skin and his citrus cologne clanged to your skin. Merlin, you had so much to say right now—you could feel the bubble forming inside your chest, ready to burst out in strings of annoyance, complaints, and, of course, your oh-so-important opinion about him. He could see it too: in your glossy eyes, furrowed brow, in another pathetic attempt to push him away with your trembling palms on his thighs.
And he, like the true savior of Hogwarts, shut down your resentment with a forceful roll of his hips and a firm grip on your head. A surprised, very much angry gasp had never found a way out because Theo shoved his cock down your throat until you began to cough around it. You slapped him, and Theodore pulled out with a pleasant sigh and laughter. The milky-white, ropey saliva had connected you two just for a moment for Nott’s artistic nature to savor the sight, before he tapped your wet lips with the swollen tip.
“Nott, I fuc—” you hissed, wincing at the humiliating sound of skin-on-skin contact.
“Stare zitto, tesoro, stare zitto. Shut up.” Theodore rolled his eyes and with a fast, rough push silenced you for the second time today.
He gave you only a few moments to collect pieces of your shattered mind before he began to fuck your throat like his personal toy. You squeezed your tear-filled eyes shut; nails were clawing at his thighs, making Theo stiffen with a sharp intake of breath. But the welcoming tightness and those sweet whines of yours were dulling any pain, only bringing him closer to the edge.
“You have a perfect mouth, cara mia. I don’t know why everyone finds it so irritating. I think it was made for me to fuck it. Don’t you agree,my love?” His voice was thick with Italian accent, low and heavy, just like his cock on your tongue right now.
Theodore Nott, a quiet and perceptive boy, was reduced to a moaning, growling mess with his hands fisting your hair. Slurred murmurs of something like ‘cazzo’, ‘oh Dio, sì’ and ‘più veloce’ filled the small room; even though you didn’t understand a word, his broken mumbling was enough to damp your underwear with your own slick. A throbbing ache between your legs was only growing with every passing second of Theo’s grunts and the echoing, filthy noises of his battle against your mouth.
“Fuck, I’m going—cazzo… Let me…” His head fell back, entire body shuddering from the upcoming release. “Let me come in your throat. Be a good girl, tesoro, and take it.”
His cock twitched; the pace became erratic, almost aggressive while he used you just to chase that blissful peak. Your cute little mouth swallowed him almost fully, leaving only few inches untouched, but he fixed that grave mistake of yours with his own palm. A few strokes, a choked moan, and your throat, closing around his cock, finally sent Theo into hot ecstasy. He kept your head in place when the tangy ropes of his cum began to hit the back of your throat repeatedly.
You swallowed everything—you didn’t have a choice, to be honest. And when you realised that it was safe to finally push him away, you, much to your surprise, could only stare at him disapprovingly.
“Holy shit, tesoro…” he breathed out heavily, dark locks falling over his sweaty forehead, blue eyes foggy, and his body tingling in a sugary-sweet dizziness. “Now, do you have something to say?”
You pressed your glistening lips into a thin line; the bruised throat was raw and sore—every sound scraping against the abused flesh like a sharpened blade. You’d have to keep your mouth shut for a few days, that’s for sure.
“Silence, finally.” Theodore grinned, a triumphant note laced his voice.
Summary: Blaise finds himself missing you in the heat of July.
Warnings/be aware: kissing, fluff
A/N: my first contribution for Blaise’s Banquet, hosted by the amazing @i-await !! Inspired by Sweet Heat Lighting by Gregory Alan Isakov.
The air was stale in Zabini Manor even in the late hours of night, just as hot and miserably sticky as it had been while the sun was in the sky. Outside, the full moon glowed and the stars flickered in the midnight sky, dancing until they were overcome by jagged bolts of blue light. Sudden cracks of heat lightning lit up the atmosphere, highlighting the vast tracts of land around the Manor, seemingly emphasising the house’s isolation in the English countryside. The ordinary hoots of owls and late-night rustles of leaves were unheard even through the Manor’s open windows, the usual nocturnal creatures seemingly silenced in their quest to escape the heat and the stormless lightning.
Inside the house, a single occupant suffered the sweltering weather. While the rest of the Manor lay dormant, dark and shuttered, rays of light from a solitary bedroom pierced the midnight air.
Blaise stared up at the vaulted ceiling as he lay in his bed, his silk sheets cast aside. Even his skilled cooling charms were easily overcome by the canicule. He’d surrendered to the loathsome July weather, brooding in his misery. Listlessly, he turned his head, glancing out the French doors that led out onto his balcony. The night sky and his own translucent reflection stared back.
The emptiness of the bedroom betrayed the fact that Zabini Manor was hardly Blaise’s home. He was merely passing through this place, counting down the days until September. His school trunk sat alone, tucked into a vast walk-in closet, but he often visited it. Afternoons ticked by as he eyed the ebony-stained wood and the silver hardware, thinking of the upcoming school year.
Normally, summer wasn’t so bad. He’d often spent the months traveling with his mother or visiting the Malfoys. This year, though, his mother had brought home a new contender for the title of Mr. Zabini just in time for Blaise to return from Hogwarts. June had been filled with the discomfort and frustration of trying to accommodate yet another stranger in his mother’s house, spending hours in his room as he avoided the arrogant smirks and prideful glances of the interloper. Blaise couldn’t understand why the blokes all looked so satisfied with themselves – they were always gone within the year, accompanied by a scant explanation from his mother and an uncomfortable silence that filled the crevices of their conversations for a time.
Mercifully, his mother and the stranger had left for Cote D’Ivoire together on the second of July. Being left out of the family holiday scarcely bothered Blaise at first. However, as midnight threatened to turn the twenty-fourth into the twenty-fifth, the silence of the Manor began to feel like a taunt. He and Draco had used and abused the empty house in about every way imaginable throughout the month, throwing parties every night of the week and inviting everyone they knew. But when the lights turned off and everyone went home, he was met with the same hollow solitude, reminding him yet again that he was alone. Like a monster under the bed in the mind of a child, the emptiness hid away until the weary hours of night, when it slipped out to invade every crevice of the place.
When he couldn’t stand the silence anymore, he dipped a hand into his school trunk and pulled out a bundle of letters. Your handwriting danced across each page, and he could practically hear your voice speaking to him as he read the words stretching across the parchment. Though you were away on your own holiday with your parents and sister, reading the descriptions of the sights you’d seen and the stories you’d sent him about your family’s adventures helped quell the emptiness in his chest.
For much of his life, he’d scarcely given the idea of love a passing thought. Perhaps it had earned a cold laugh from his lips when Nott or Berkshire was down bad for some girl, but little more. The revolving door of Messrs. Zabini in his mother’s house had created little doubt in his mind that “love” was little more than a passing notion, a matter of convenience or a temporary impulse soon to be disposed of.
Then, Blaise met you.
You were his assigned dueling partner in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He wasn’t sure what deep-seated masochism had made him fall for the person required to throw hexes and jinxes at him from across the classroom, but every little combative flicker in your eyes and incantation from your lips intrigued him all the more. In October, he found himself looking forward to a class he’d previously held in little regard. By November, he was practicing spells in the Slytherin common room just so he could impress you the next time he saw you. But in December, he found himself facing the prospect of a change in partners as Professor Snape stood at the front of the classroom, frowning and telling his students that they’d make lousy duelists if they only learned one person’s style of combat. So he did what any normal person would’ve done.
He pretended to be struggling immensely in a subject he was consistently acing so that he could be tutored by you.
When you agreed to help him, he felt like he was on the top of the world. The thought of having no more reason to talk to you every week had created this horrible, suffocating feeling in his chest that he didn’t quite understand, but was relieved to have pushed aside for a few more months. However, it quickly became apparent that Blaise did not need help with Defense Against the Dark Arts. He easily grasped every concept you explained to him, and he was terrible at pretending otherwise.
But to his surprise, you kept showing up to each scheduled tutoring session, even once you’d run out of lessons to teach. At first, the two of you did the Defense homework together or revised for your exams. Then, you started just talking, spending hours in the library or one of your common rooms telling each other about your days and laughing about the ridiculous drama that was always in the air at Hogwarts.
In February, during one of those rambling conversations, you confessed to Blaise with a soft voice and downcast eyes that no one had ever bought you flowers before. He couldn’t fathom the thought that no one had shown you the treatment that you deserved. The little downturn of your lips and sadness in your ordinarily confident eyes invaded his mind until he was ready to make a fool of himself just to make you happy. The Slytherin who’d once only had an icy laugh to offer at the thought of love was suddenly spending his waking hours thinking of ways to spoil you. You came back to your dormitory on Valentine’s Day to a bed full of the most flowers you’d ever seen in one place, sitting in the arms of a stuffed bear taller than your headboard and as wide as the mattress it was sitting on.
By March, most of your study sessions consisted of more snogging than studying, which Blaise considerably preferred to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
When Blaise said goodbye to you for the summer, his chest felt like it was liable to split in two. The lump in his throat as he wrapped you in his arms at Platform 9 ¾ was, frankly, embarrassing. Although you assured him that the time would pass quickly and the two of you would be reunited in no time, every day that stood in the way of holding you again seemed to pass more slowly than the last. The formerly jaded heir to the house of Zabini now laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, your face flashing through his mind over and over as he desperately tried to wish away the month of July
In the distance, another jagged bolt of heat lightning flashed through the sky. The wind whipped across the open acres of the Zabini estate, threatening a thunderstorm and sending branches knocking against the doors to the balcony. Blaise rolled over in bed, thoughts of you still running through his mind as the wind howled at his back.
The echoing knocks against the French doors grew louder - more insistent.
Frowning, Blaise sat up abruptly. That wasn’t the sound of leafy branches scraping the balcony. Someone was knocking at the door. Taking ahold of the wand that was perched on his bedside table, he stood, slipping across the room and toward the French doors. In the darkness, he couldn’t discern anything but the shadowy shape of a figure standing on his balcony.
Just as he began to point his wand, another crack of light appeared in the sky. The face peering back at him through the door was your face. Your skin was glistening with sweat from the excruciating temperature and your hair was stuck to your forehead but it was you all the same.
“How –” The word fell from his lips in a rush as he hurriedly closed the rest of the distance between you two, throwing the doors open. He was greeted by the sweet smell of your perfume and your bright, beautiful smile as you looked back at him. Before you could so much as step over the threshold, his arms were around you, clutching you as close to him as he could possibly manage.
“How are you here?” His voice was muffled as he spoke into your hair. He could scarcely believe this was real. Every wish he’d made in the emptiness of the Manor had suddenly come to fruition.
“My parents had Ministry business in London.” Your face was pressed into Blaise’s chest, and he felt your grin widen as he pressed kisses into your hair. “My sister said she’d cover for me if I wanted to see you while they were gone and, well…here I am.”
“But the anti-Apparation wards…” He trailed off, still not understanding how it was possible that he was holding you in his arms.
“I can fly a broom, you know.” Blaise finally released you to see you smirking playfully up at him. “Perhaps I’m not as great as you, Mister Chaser, but I do manage. It’s not like it was difficult to find the place.” You waved a hand at the enormous Manor house with a laugh. “In fact, it’s rather hard to miss.”
“You flew halfway across the country to see me?” Gone was any trace of the arrogance that most of the wizarding world associated with Blaise Zabini. He was staring at you with unbridled bewilderment.
“I was worried!” You held your hands up in an emphatic gesture. “You sounded so…empty in your last few letters. I hated the idea of you all by yourself in this big house.”
“You are…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he stared at you in wonder. “Come here.” Taking a hold of your waist, he pulled you towards him, crashing his lips into yours.
You twined your arms around his neck, a little whine slipping from your lips, and he groaned unabashedly. He longed to lose himself in you and never resurface, to drown himself in the taste of your lipgloss and the smell of your perfume. Every one of his senses was overtaken by you and he couldn’t imagine a better reality than the one he was experiencing right this instant.
“We should go inside,” you finally murmured, your voice shaky and breathless. “ I think it’s about to storm.”
Any awareness of the heat lightning in the air had slipped into the deep recesses of his mind the moment Blaise saw your face, but he realized with a start that you were right. Hot wind blew threateningly across the balcony and in the silence, he heard the first low rumblings of thunder in the distance. “Come on, love.” With a gentle hand at the base of your spine, he guided you through the open doors.
Despite the heat, Blaise clung to you as the two of you collapsed into his bed, stroking your hair tenderly while you laid your head against his chest. You clutched his other hand in yours, playing with the silver rings on his fingers as you spoke in low voices and watched the incoming storm through the windows.
“Did your mum tell you when she’ll be back?” There was a hint of hesitation in your tone, seemingly afraid of the answer that he gave as he shook his head. The sadness in your gaze as you glanced back up at him made his chest ache – he desperately wanted to assure you not to worry about such things.
“It’s alright.” He shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance. “Rather them be away than have some strange bloke here.”
A furrow appeared between your eyebrows that he immediately tried to smooth away with his thumb. A rumble of thunder filled the silence as you chewed on your bottom lip. Then, after a moment, you finally spoke. “We should go somewhere together.”
Blaise let out a low huff of amusement. “Where?”
“Anywhere.” He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear as you glanced up at him. “Anywhere that’s not a massive, empty house where all you can hear is your own thoughts. We can get on our brooms and go to the sea, or the city, or some Muggle suburb where we can watch the neighbors argue about the latest gossip. Just…somewhere else.”
“‘S alright now.” His lips curved upward into a smile. “You’re here.”
“You sap.” You crinkled your nose at him, but you were grinning from ear to ear.
His eyes softened. “We can go wherever you want.”
You laid nose-to-nose with Blaise, whispering into the late hours of the night as rain began to pour down onto the Zabini estate, finally banishing the oppressive heat. Plans for adventures floated through the air, offering excitement for the days ahead. When you finally fell asleep, it was in his arms. He watched your eyelids flutter and droop and your body relax, grinning as you snuggled closer to him. Finally, he closed his own eyes, the knot of emptiness that had lived in his chest having finally vanished.
Credits: images ltr: Pinterest here, Spotify, Pinterest by austecel here | divider by @saradika-graphics here
Tags: fluff, pre-relationship, mutual pining, brother's best friend, pro quidditch player!reader, plays for the Holyhead Harpies, mention of a poison attempt, oblivious reader, established Hinny, mentioned Dramione, Lucius is no longer with us🤷♀️, probably inaccurate quidditch terms, idiots in love
A/n: This is a part of the #blaiseappreciationevent hosted by the lovely @i-await Thank you so much for hosting this. You are absolutely brilliant. Our boy deserves so much love.
WC: 3642
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The roar of the crowd wraps around as Lisa catches the golden snitch. You and Ginny share a proud smile, high giving from each other. “Knew she could do it.” Ginny nods, tilting her head towards the rest of the team flying towards Lisa. “Let's go.” The two of you quickly join, flying a victory lap around the stadium as the crowd erupts with life, cheering on Lisa.
Clapping on Lisa on the shoulder, you walk into the locker room. “Told you you would be amazing.” She blushes, shrugging off your hand before walking to her locker. “It's only the first game. Still have time to botch the rest of the season.”
Ginny stands up on the bench, pointing straight at Lisa. “You, Lisa Turpin,” the locker room falls quiet as everyone gathers around, wanting to hear the captain’s words. “are an excellent player. One of the best chasers this league has ever seen and will be an even better seeker.” Lisa nods, wiping her hands on his pants. “Thank you guys.”
Clapping her hands, Ginny smiles down at the team. “Alright ladies, enough mushy shit. Everyone change, go see your families. After that, were celebrating!”
As everyone walks into the family suite, you nudge Ginny with your elbow. “In a rush to get back to Saint Potter?” Ginny laughs, bumping her hip into yours. “Don't you know it. I was promised a delicious reward if we won.” She wiggles her eyebrows as you scrunch your nose in disgust. “Please spare me the details Gin. Tell me more and I'll be forced to obliviate myself.” Ginny laughs, head tilted back. “Laugh all you want but when I do obliviate myself, you will get stuck training someone captain." Ginny groans at the thought. If there was anything she hated, it was training. “Nevermind.”
“Oh my beautiful girl, you played so wonderfully.” Mum pulls you into her arms, wrapping around you tightly. “I am so proud of you.”
She came to every one of your games, whether they were home or away. No matter the distance.
You pull back, smiling as you push the hair of your her face. “Thank for coming mum. Means a lot to me.” Her silver eyes shimmer as she pats your cheek, before leaving to congratulate the rest of the team.
“Good game.” You turn, grinning from ear to ear. “Draco! What are you doing here? I thought you weren't supposed to return until next week.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Do not tell me you seriously thought I would miss your first game of the season. Dumber than I thought.” You roll your eyes. Asshole.
“Thanks for coming Dray.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into your side. “Lisa did well.” You hum, resting your head on his shoulder. “She was quite nervous. Switching positions can be nerve-racking but I knew she would be great.”
Draco stayed for a few more minutes before excusing himself, giving you a poor excuse about finding Potter. You knew he was searching for Granger. You giggle, watching as his blonde hair disappears. Your big brother has a crush on the Golden Girl. Ironic.
Utilizing the fact everyone was busy, you walk out to the balcony, silently relishing in the victory. It was the start but you could feel it, this was your year. The year the Harpies will go all the way.
An arm wraps around your waist, but you don't freak out. No point when you knew exactly who it was. The sweet smell of coffee and surprisingly floral.
“You did so great princess.” A deep raspy voice mumbles into your ear, your body betraying you as it relaxes at his touch. “Hello to you too Zabini.” You say, removing yourself from his grip.
Blaise Zabini, the man of your dreams and nightmares. Devilishly handsome, intelligent enough to hold a proper conversation with you, and a ladies man. Constantly published in Witch Weekly with women throwing themselves all over him. Yet he is the only person who even captured your heart, even in the slightest.
With a nervous smile twitching across his face, Blaise pulls a hand and a beautiful bouquet of flowers from behind his back. That would explain the floral scent. “What? No ‘Thank you Blaise. You're so amazing and handsome.’ That's not very nice of you princess.”
You force a fake smile into your face as you take the flowers. “Thank you Blaise.” He chuckles. “And?”
The cellphone crinkles under your grip. “Quit calling me that. I'm not a princess.” Blaise steps forward, the air between you thickens. The tip of his brand new designer touches the toe of your own sneakers.
“You are the first girl born in the Malfoy lineage in over a century.” He reaches up, brushing a knuckle against your cheek. “Besides you will always be my princess.”
------
Groaning, you shield your eyes as Ginny shoves her tongue down Scarhead's throat. “Can't you be like normal couples and go shag in the loo. Nobody wants to see this!”
Ginny pills back, fixing her dress. She smirks as Potter rests his hand under the table, presumably on his thigh based off the look in Ginny's eye. “Let's be real. Many people would pay to see this. But why don't you go find Zabini and snog him? Maybe it'll get you to relax and actually enjoy yourself.” She teases before whispering into Potter's ear, causing them both to slide out of the booth
Snog Zabini? Gross. Why would anyone, let alone you, want to know how his lips felt? Or how they taste? Or how he-
“Did you miss me ‘princess’?” You look up to find your date placing a drink in front of you, before sliding into the booth. “Why would I miss you? You are nothing but a pain in my ass.” Blaise chuckles as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “As long as I'm your pain, I'll take whatever I can get to be in that pretty little mind of yours.
Ignoring the way his words send a flutter to your heart, you push him away. Well at least try to. “You could have sat across from me, you idiot.” Blaise shakes his head, lips curling into a devious smirk. “Now why would I sit anywhere else but next to you? Besides I promised your brother I would keep an eye on you.”
The swarm of butterflies violently transfigure into a sharp pointed daggers. “Oh fucking course. You know what, I'm not a fucking child. A fact that you and Draco seem to forget.” Blaise sighs, uncoiling his arm from your shoulder. “Princess.” You hold your hand up. “No Blaise. I am a grown woman. I do not need to be babysat.”
“Of course you don't. That is not what we are doing.” He shakes his head when you try to protest. “You had your turn to talk now it's mine. You are Y/n Malfoy, international quidditch star and one of the two heirs to the Malfoy vaults. So yes we keep an extra eye on you, especially after someone tried to poison you last season.”
His words set in along with guilt. “I'm sorry. I know you're just looking out for me. I shouldn't have taken my mood out on you.” You mumble, resting your head on his shoulders. Blaise tenses, his breath getting caught into his throat. You tilt your head up, catching the way his throat bobs.
“You alright?” He nods, letting his arm fall around your waist this time. “Of course I am. Got a drink and my best girl with me. What else could I need?” Laughing, you lay your back down, singing as his body heat wraps around you like a soft blanket. “Tell me bout work?”
Without a doubt, Blaise had always been a safe place. When mother and father argued over hushed topics, when Draco received the dark mark, during the trials, and even now. He was like a breath of fresh hair, like finally coming home.
As he talked vividly of his work, your eyes grew heavy, making it difficult for you to keep them open. A soft kiss was pressed against the side of your head. “Sleep princess. I will be right here to protect you. Always.”
------
Potter's house was crowded, filled with his closest friends and their family celebrating yet another win for the Harpies. Although this wasn't just any ordinary win, it was fun the league cup. And for the first time in history, the Holy head Harpies had won.
You look around the living room, a proud smile spread widely across your face. Not only had your team had one, you also had been invited to the British national team to compete for the Quidditch world cup. You just hadn't mentioned it. Not yet anyways.
You couldn't help the way your eyes grew misty, overwhelmed with the pure unfiltered joy racing through your veins at the sight before you.
Draco stood beside Hermione, an arm around her waist and she talks to Theo, most likely about work. Pansy, Daphne, and Ginny were gossiping on the couch about Pansy's latest date. Harry, Ron, and Blaise stood by the fireplace with a glass of firewhiskey in hand.
None of you could have ever imagined this before the war, yet you wouldn't change if for the world.
Your eyes linger on the dark skinned Italian. You notice everything. The slight stubble on his chin. The way his sleeves are pushed up his forearm. The way he favored his left leg more after an injury from the war. How he lingered more these past couple of months. Always brought your favorite snacks, grumbling how hangry you can get. Soft feather like kisses here and there. Even cancelled a meeting when he date of the league cup was announced.
Your heart betrays you. Falling for him. You knew it would only lead to heart break. Eventually Blaise will grow tired of you and move on.
As if feeling the weight of your gaze, he tilts his head, smiling softly before raising his glass. You wave, unable to hold the smile back. Before either of you could move, you were called, more like summoned to the couch.
“When are you finally to give in? The man wants you.” Ginny teases. You shake your head. “I refuse to be another knot on his bedpost.” You miss the look shared between Pansy and Daphne. “Beside he only wants me for the thrill. Best friend's little sister and all.
Clink clink.
Harry clears his throat, smiling nervously. “I want to thank everyone for coming and congratulations to our leading ladies, Y/n,” Your cheeks warm as Blaise cheers, loudly clapping. “And Ginny.”
Harry holds his hand out. Ginny giggles like a school girl as she allows him to pull her off the couch.
"While we are surrounded by all of our friends, I couldn't think of a better time." You couldn't bold back a smile even if you tried. Harry let go of her hand, going down on one knee. Ginny covers her mouth as tears pool into her eyes.
"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, his hair is as dark as a blackboard."
Laughs were barely contained as Ginny glared at the savior. Yet she didn't interrupt.
"I wish he was mine, he's really divine. The hero who conquered the Dark Lord." He chuckled. "Believe it or not, that was the first poem written for me. I should have known at that moment you were it for me. Everyday, I thank Godric you waited for my dumbass. Will you please do me the honor of becoming mine? It would be really divine." Ginny smacked Harry on the back of his head, nodding her head. "Of course I will. You idiot."
“How much you want to bet they're shagging right now?” Blaise jokes, wrapping an arm around your waist. Laughing as you look around the garden, you notice the absence of the happy couple. “If you were looking for an easy win, you should have asked Ron.” Blaise scoffs, the amusement morphing into something more serious. “I would never define you as easy.”
Understanding the underline of what he was saying, you removed yourself from his arms. "I would hope anyone who actually knew me would understand how much I hate to be a game." You held my chin high just like mum taught me and walked away, missing the confused look painted on his face.
"Why does Blaise look like you kicked his puppy?" Draco asked, joining you in the kitchen. You rolled your eyes. "Why would I kick Blaise's imaginary puppy or did Zabini get a furry companion to keep his bed warm in between his slags?" Ron's eyes went wide, never seen this side of you before.
"You are really dense, aren't you?" You furrowed your brow. "What are you talking about, Dray?"
He gave you a hard look, one that would be hard to decipher if you wasn't a Malfoy.
"He hasn't had anyone in his bed in over a year. Hasn't been on one date. Hasn't flirted with any other person." Your breath catches.
"A year?" He nods and walks away.
"Don't tell me you're that blind Malfoy?" Ron shakes his head in disbelief. "He stares at you like you personally painted the stars into the sky."
How did did not see it? It must have been obvious if Ron noticed. You grab a glass of firewhiskey, drinking it in one gulp.
Does that mean Blaise actually likes you?
------
Sighing, you mindlessly open the fridge. Without practice, your days became dull. No wind through your hair. No scored goals. No cool broom tricks when Gwen wasn't watching. Just dull.
With a wave of your hand, the kettle on the stove fills and starts to heat up. While waiting, you head to your room to change out of your pajamas, slipping into a pair of muggle leggings you bought with Hermione.
You smirk, checking yourself out in the mirror. Oh if father could see this. If Azkaban didn't kill him, you were certain the sight of his little girl in muggle clothes would. Or even better, the fact that his son is in love and dating the Golden Girl.
A knock on your window pulls your from your thoughts. A soft smile forms at the sight of your second favorite owl. Hermes, the Eurasian Eagle-Owl his fourth stepdad gifted for his birthday.
You quickly cross the room, opening the window to let him in. “Hi Hermes. Wonderful to see you again. I missed you.” You say, watching as he flies to the perch on your desk. Laughing, you scratch his head as you grab a treat from your drawer. “Would you like a treat?” He hoots quietly, leaning into your touch. “Of course. Now you rest and when you feel up to it, you can return to Blaise.”
The kettle screeches, startling the poor owl. “Sorry Hermes. Thank you once again.”
You tear open the envelope as you finish making your cup of tea. You shake your head, chuckling at the messy scrawl of his handwriting.
‘Be ready to go out by noon. Dress nicely. I want to spend time with my favorite witch.’
Your cheeks ache from the amount you were smiling. After taking much needed time and ice cream, you finally accepted that there was a chance that Blaise might actually reciprocate feelings. That is what you will find out tonight. Possibly. As long as you don't chicken out.
No sooner had you picked your shoes and purse up, Blaise knocked on the door. You quickly walk to the door, freezing just in front of it. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your rapid heartbeat.
"Princess, open the door." Blaise called from the other side. "It's getting cold."
You place my hand on the doorknob, giggles bubbling out.
"What if I don't want to?" You smirked.
You could hear the eye roll. "So you don't want to go to La Tagliatella." Your mouth waters instantly. It was only your favorite restaurant and of course he knew that. You opened the door with a smile.
"Well I guess I could be convinced." He laughs, hand shoved in his pocket. "Of course you can be. You have always been food motivated. Have been since we were kids."
You blush looking away. "Hey it's not a bad thing. I love a woman who can eat. Plus it makes it easier for you to forgive me when I piss you off."
Blaise lets his eyes roam over your figure, taking in your dress and shoes dangling from your fingers. "Well don't you look absolutely breathtaking. But you are missing something."
You frown, looking down at your outfit. “What do you mean? If you're going to criticize my outfit, I'll-”
Blaise chuckles as he pulls a box out of his pocket. Your eyes widen. "I..is that for me?" You whisper nervously. He nods, shifting his weight.
Most people wouldn't be able to see it, but you could see how nervous he was. You take the small box from him, carefully opening to find a beautiful charm bracelet.
The center is a lilac star. Another was a flame and a ferret. You chuckle, fight the tears that wanted to slip down your cheeks.
"Thank you." You whispered barely audible, looking up at him. “I love it.”
After a few moments of silence, he clears his throat. "Are you ready to go? We have a reservation at 11." You smile. "Let me put on my shoes and place my wards, then we can go."
With wards tighter than the ones at the manor, you turn to Blaise, startled to see him smiling as he watched you.
"Something wrong?" He shakes his head. "No, but did you know you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating? You used to do it all the time while studying." You look away, heat creeping up the back of your neck.
"We should go. Don't want to be late."Blaise chuckles at your obvious and poor attempt to change the subject. He offers his arm. "Ready, my lady?" You nod, taking his arm. "Lead the way, my lord."
The two of you decide to walk back to your house instead of using the floo. Claimed the day was too beautiful to waste, but really neither of you wanted this “date” to end.
Sitting on the couch with your feet tucked under you, a small content sigh falls from your lips. "Thank you for today, Blaise." He sits next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. "Of course. Anything for my princess."
"Your princess?"
He nods, eyes looking anywhere but at you.
"Only if you're okay with that." You place your hand on top of his. His head snaps up, brown eyes meeting yours. You search his dark chocolate eyes for any signs of a game. Finding nothing but honesty, you smile nervously. A weight in my chest lifted.
It wasn't a game. It never was.
An idea popped into your head, a cruel but hilarious idea.
"Say please." Blaise looks shocked. "Please?" You nod, mischief sparkling in your eyes. Blaise nods, the shock being replaced by amusement. "Okay, I will."
He stands up off the couch, and smirks down at you. You giggle placing a pillow on your lap as you eagerly wait for what he will do. The one thing about Blaise, he was theatrical.
Much to your surprise, he kneels down on one knee, taking your hand into his. You tried to hold back the nervous giggle, but failed. The noise only seems to encourage him more as his chest puffs out.
His hands were warm. Like the fireplace in the Slytherin common room.
"Y/n Malfoy, my star, will you do me the honor and allow me to court you?" You raise your eyebrows, causing him to chuckle. "Please?" He adds. Unable to fight the smile any longer, you nod. "Yes.” You whisper, a wave of sudden and intense emotions crashing over you.
He brings your hand to his lips leaving a soft kiss on the back of it. You gasp, your skin tingling. It was just like you imagined. Blaise lifts his head, eyes meeting yours, the same intense emotions swirling in his. “About time princess.”
"Guess what?" You whisper, scared to break the comfortable silence. Blaise hums, tugging on the ends of your hair. You watch Astrid, your cat, climb her tree as you try to find the words.
"I made England's national team." Blaise froze next to you, his head slowly turning as if he was a character from one of those muggle films Hermione took you to.
"Are you serious?" He exclaims, pulling you into his lap. You nod, hands resting on his shoulders. A wide proud grin spread across his face.
"How has Draco not spilled it yet? He's shit at keeping secrets." You blush and look away. "You're the first person to know. I wanted you to know first." Blaise stills underneath you, his hands on you tightens on your hips.
"Really?" He whispers. You nod nervously. "When I found out, you were the first person I wanted to tell." He leans up and places a haste kiss on your cheek.
"Princess I am so proud of you." His arms wrap around your waist, squeezing you tightly. "I can't believe you told me first. Your mum is going to be mad." You shake your head,knowing he was right.
"I'm sure she'll be more enthusiastic about us courting."
You lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder. "Draco is going to kill me isn't he?" You kiss the side of his neck, hiding your smile. "Probably." Blaise sighs, hands rubbing small circles on your back. “Worth it.”
Summary:During Potions class, Theodore’s friends notice your initials written in ink on his wrist — and realize he absentmindedly wrote them there himself. Unfortunately for him, the teasing only gets worse when Slughorn overhears.
Ink splattered across Theodore’s fingers every single day.
Nobody questioned it anymore.
Between essays, Quidditch strategies, and the endless notes he pretended not to care about, his hands were almost always stained black or dark blue. It was normal.
What wasn’t normal was the fact that halfway through Potions, Enzo suddenly grabbed his wrist across the table.
Theo looked up instantly. “What?”
Enzo stared at him for a long moment before his mouth twitched.
“Oh, this is tragic.”
Theo narrowed his eyes. “You’re irritating even when you’re quiet.”
“No,” Enzo said slowly, turning Theo’s arm slightly toward the light. “You’re just embarrassingly obvious.”
Theo frowned.
Mattheo leaned over next, immediately bursting into laughter loud enough for half the class to look over.
“There’s actually no way.”
Theo finally looked down at his wrist.
Written in dark ink, right beneath the sleeve of his uniform, were your initials.
Not messy.
Not accidental-looking.
Carefully written.
Like he’d traced them there absentmindedly during class.
Silence.
Then—
“Oh my God,” Mattheo wheezed. “You’re gone. Completely gone.”
Theo yanked his sleeve down immediately. “Shut up.”
“You wrote her initials on yourself.”
“I did not.”
“You literally did,” Enzo said. “That is your handwriting.”
Theo stared at the potion in front of him like he wanted to drown in it.
Because the worst part?
It was his handwriting.
He remembered exactly when he’d done it too — late in History of Magic while half-asleep, listening to you whisper answers beside him.
After finding out you were just a bet, an unexpected hero comes to your rescue. But why would this near stranger be so kind to you? What secret is he hiding? And when it comes to love, can you roll the dice without falling for his charm?
Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader
A/N: I couldn’t resist doing another fake dating trope with Enzo! I love it when he uses his manipulative side for chaotic good lolol. Fluff with a bit of angst!
✿ Masterlist | ✿ Lorenzo Berkshire Masterlist | 4.7k words
The neon lights blurred as tears slid down your cheeks until they splashed onto the floor. Around you, tangled bodies moved to the rhythm of blaring music, too focused on their own revelry to notice your sorrow.
You copied them, body swaying to a sad song only you could hear. It wasn’t fair. Tonight was supposed to be a break from crying in your room while eating tubs of ice cream in your oversized shirt. Instead you were at a Slytherin party, crying while your sequined dress sparkled.
That fateful night replayed in your head, more bitter than any bottle of alcohol. You had just gone off to use the loo when you realized you had left your purse, and was about to retrieve it until you overheard their conversation.
“Can’t believe you actually pulled it off,” Cormac’s friend slapped him on the back, handing him another bottle of beer.
“Dating the most unavailable girl in our year,” his other friend chimed in. “Well, a bet’s a bet,” he continued, as he reached for his Galleons.
“I told you I could do it,” Cormac smiled smugly. That charming smile that once unleashed butterflies in your stomach, now looked wrong. It made you want to hurl your insides. He held his hand out and proudly closed his fist around the gold coins.
Everyone laughed good naturedly, toasting beers with Cormac, as if it was just a silly little prank. It seemed like everyone was in on the joke, except for you. You stormed in, grabbed your purse and splashed a cocktail on his face.
The only thing you could do to save your last shred of your dignity was walk away. The past week had been a blur of tears, sleepless nights, and pity parties, you were pretty sure you were only standing out of spite.
You felt so delirious in fact, that you swore you could see Cormac from the distance. He had his arm around a pretty girl and they were headed towards you. ‘How much have I drank?’ Your eyes wandered to your empty hand in confusion.
You hadn’t even gotten the chance to drink anything before the tears caught up with you. So…your hallucination? Oh, it was real. Heat rushed to your cheeks in realization and even without having drank alcohol, you sobered up anyway and stood straight. You swiped at your tears ferociously and thanked the makeup gods for waterproof mascara and eyeliner.
‘How the hell is he even here?’ You wondered as you searched for the exit. He never went to Slytherin parties, yet there he was. As you frantically searched across the room, your eyes landed on Lorenzo Berkshire who stared back at you. You smiled widely wanting to pretend everything was normal, but in your panic you looked like a serial killer clown who was out to get him. Your eyes fell to the floor in horror.
Just when things couldn’t get worse, two very familiar shoes stepped in front of you. Cormac. Your heart thumped against your chest, each beat carrying a memory that burned like acid. Promises you once believed in, hands intertwined everywhere you went, secrets shared in the quiet of night. It was all a lie.
You took a deep inhale. “No,” you spoke before he could say anything and spun so fast, crashing into a hard chest that smelled like expensive cologne. You froze, until you felt strong hands wrap around your back.
“There you are, I’ve been looking for you,” a warm voice said above you, and the way his chest vibrated was as comforting as a purring cat. You looked up and blinked in confusion, it was Lorenzo Berkshire.
Before you knew what you were doing, you heard yourself respond, “I’m here.”
“Come on, let’s dance,” he said, moving his hand around your shoulder and guiding you deeper into the dance floor.
He held you close and whispered in your ear, “Hi, I’m your hero. It’s nice to meet you.”
You laughed at his audacity, the tightness in your chest loosening for the first time in days. “And I’m the girl with the serial killer clown smile. Aren’t you afraid I’d murder you?”
“If I were to get murdered, it wouldn’t be so bad if the last thing I saw was your pretty face,” he quipped.
You scoffed, “I find your sense of self-preservation alarming.”
“Well perhaps I need saving too.”
You stared at him and he continued, “this night has been a bore. Focus on me,” he took your hand and brought it to his side. “Cormac’s looking-”
“Then kiss me,” you tell him, determination burning in your eyes.
Enzo smirked, he didn’t need to be asked twice. His lips crashed into yours, soft and warm, as his cologne enveloped you. You explored his mouth with curiosity, excited to feel something other than sadness or shame for the first time in a week. You could get lost here, wrapped in his strong arms, and forget everything. But you couldn’t let yourself be that foolish again.
You broke the kiss first and saw Cormac staring dumbly. It felt like a win, though what the game was, you weren’t sure. Enzo held your hand, “come on, let’s get out of here.” You followed him, walking briskly, exhanging stupid smiles.
You giggled when you reached the door of his dorm room. “Thank you,” you looked at Enzo. “We have actually met before, we had potions together.”
“Ah,” Enzo nods, fumbling with the door of his dorm room. “Well, I could get to know you in lots of ways,” he winked, holding the door open.
You crossed your arms around your chest and slowly walked into his room, suddenly conscious now that you were alone with Enzo. He seemed sweet back when you were classmates in potions, but his reputation told a different story these days.
“Why did you save me, back there?”
“I saw a gorgeous girl with a wild smile, how could I resist?” he shrugged with a playful glint in his eye.
You chuckled, “it’s just the two of us, you can drop the act. And you know what happened, huh?” Your eyes dropped to the floor again, shame burning your cheeks pink.
“Hey,” he said, holding your chin and gently lifting it up to look into your eyes. “I wasn’t lying, you are very pretty. And yes, I’ve heard but you shouldn’t be embarassed. What Cormac did to you was really shitty. He’s the one who should feel terrible, not you. ”
“But I was the stupid one who fell for it,” tears welled in your eyes again and you took a deep inhale, willing the tears back.
Enzo swiped his thumb across your cheek, wiping off the tear that escaped.
“I can make you feel good,” he offered, looking intently into your eyes. “Get lost in me tonight, like that kiss earlier. Don’t tell me you felt nothing.”
You laughed despite the heat that burned in the pit of your stomach. “You’ve done enough for me tonight. Thank you, I’m sure it’s amazing. I’ve heard stellar reviews and everything,” you put two thumbs up to punctuate the statement.
“Stellar reviews?” Enzo smirked, “don’t you want to find out for yourself?”
“But it’s all a mess, I don’t know. I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.” You stood to leave, but Enzo placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“Okay, that’s fine. Let’s at least see this through, give it a couple more minutes. Can’t have anyone thinking I’m a quick shot, don’t want to ruin my stellar reviews.”
“The least I could do is keep your reputation intact,” you agreed, sitting beside him again.
“So,” he said, clapping both hands together. “Tell me everything shitty about Cormac, so we can hate him together.”
You grinned at him, took a deep breath, and launched into it. You spoke about his annoying habits. You gagged together at the way he’d use his fingernail as a toothpick and then eat whatever food he got out. Scowled at the way he forgot about plans you made, and made fun of the way he obnoxiously referred to himself in third person.
“I’m insulted,” you said as the laughter died down, “that I got fooled by him.”
“Doesn’t it just make you angry instead of sad?”
You nodded, and he continued. “You saw how shocked he was earlier, he probably thought you’d be crying over him. What if we stuck with this for a while and made him suffer?”
“Sounds fun, but what’s in it for you?” you examined him.
“Like I said earlier, I’m bored. Let’s cause some mischief.”
You held your hand out, “deal.”
“Deal,” he agreed, but instead of shaking your hand, he kissed the back of it.
“S-so, got any ideas?” you asked, ignoring the shot of electricity from his kiss.
“If Cormac wanted so badly to be the center of attention, then so be it.” Enzo smirked and you leaned in, intrigued by his idea.
“You know, there is a Gryffindor party tomorrow where he’ll be celebrating his birthday,” you chimed in, scheming revenge together.
“That’s it then,” you both grinned at each other minutes later, your plan in place.
Enzo moved closer and you closed your eyes instinctively. You held your breath as your heart beat faster. His fingers gently brushed your hair, messing it up slightly.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to your dorm,” he said, holding out his hand to help you up.
Enzo zipped up the dress he got for you and you marveled at your reflection. In your color coordinated outfit, you truly looked like the perfect couple.
Hand in hand, you strode into the party and innocently smiled at the shocked faces that stared at you. Just last week, Cormac and his friends were laughing at you. By the end of tonight, you’d have the last laugh.
With Enzo, you danced and chatted the night away. It was surprisingly easy to tune out the crowd when you were with him. Alarm bells went off in your head, and as long as you heeded their warnings, you reckoned you’d be fine. You spoke about the latest gossip, current events, and discovered a shared interest in fashion. A fresh heartbreak was all the reminder you needed to keep yourself safe and distant.
Cormac’s cake was lit and everyone around him sang happy birthday, you and Enzo shared knowing smiles and you barely suppressed a giggle. Just as Cormac blew out the candles, you cast wingardium leviosa, causing the cake to levitate and smash onto his face. He quickly threw it away, sputtering icing and cake.
“Happy birthday, Cormac!” you clapped cheerfully, piercing through the stunned silence around you. “I’ve got another gift for you,” you declared, throwing a gift box onto his feet. “Here’s to getting what you deserve,” You tapped your wand and glitter exploded beneath Cormac, spreading across the room. All around you, there was shrieking and coughing as the pesky glitter shone and lodged itself everywhere it shouldn’t.
“That’s my girl!” Enzo raised his hand and you gave him a high five, except he caught your hand upon contact and led you sprinting forward, away from the chaos. With his other hand, he snagged a bottle of champagne. Your maniacal laughter trailed behind you, you had never felt so free.
The night air greeted you as you caught your breath, providing a cool relief from all the excitement.
“Look at you, bad ass,” Enzo beamed at you proudly.
“Did you see his nostrils flare in disbelief? He couldn’t even talk because he was busy sputtering cake and glitter!”
“Everyone else got a fright with that explosion. That’ll show ‘em not to mess with you,” he agreed, leading you into the garden, where he sat comfortably on a bench.
“Thank you,” you said, settling down beside him.
“As much as I love a good revenge plan, this was mostly your idea,” he said, popping off the cork of the champagne. “So let’s celebrate!” He handed you the bottle and you took a swig, the bubbles fizzed and warmed you.
“To revenge,” you said, handing him back the bottle.
“So there is credence to that serial killer clown smile,” he commented, amused.
“Should have run when you had the chance.”
“Too bad, I’m stuck with you now,” he said, handing back the bottle with a huge grin that said it was anything but.
“So next week, you’re playing a match against Gryffindor. I have an idea,” Enzo leaned in as you proposed your plan.
Draco clutched the golden snitch in his hand, thrusting it in the air to signal victory. The crowd cheered wildly and you found yourself sprinting towards Enzo, who was already headed towards you. You crashed into his outstretched arms and he lifted you up, echoing your laughter.
“Congrats!” You managed to say, in between catching your breath.
“Only the best for my girl. We won because of you, though don’t let Draco hear that,” he winked at you as he placed you back down. “A kiss for the champion?” He leaned in closer and whispered in delight, “Cormac’s fuming.”
You felt giddy with pride and triumph. Cormac was so used seeing your creative signs dedicated to him, that he lost focus when he saw your sign was for Enzo this time. So much so, that he flew into Harry by mistake, giving Draco the space to catch the golden snitch.
You giggled and closed the distance between you, tasting sweet revenge on his lips. Enzo responded skilfully, living up to his reputation as he wrapped his arms around you again, one hand cupping the side of your cheek.
It still felt surreal to have someone in your corner, yet it felt too good to question or analyze too much. Things just felt easy with him. Besides, it was all pretend. Was this how easy it was for Cormac to fool you?
“Are you okay?” Enzo said, pressing his forehead against yours.
You blinked, not sure when you had broken off the kiss. “Yes,” you assured him, even though your tone was unconvincing. “Congrats again,” you beamed and in a lower tone, “thank you. One day, I’ll find a way to repay you.”
“Oh?” Enzo said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
Heat rushed to your cheeks, “n-not that way!” You said defensively.
Enzo laughed off his hurt. “Just kidding, dummy,” he messed up the top of your hair again like he did last night. You stuck your tongue out in response and Enzo laughed for real this time. “I’ll figure it out,” you said vaguely, and he brushed it off with a wave as he left for the showers.
Turns out, Enzo was the perfect fake boyfriend. He showed up every morning with flowers, walked you hand-in-hand to all of your classes, and you alternated meals between yours and his friend group. You cheered for him in all his quidditch matches. He even bought you a necklace with his initial and made out with you in hallways whenever you saw Cormac.
On weekends, you partied together, had brunch in Hogsmeade, and went shopping together. Little by little, you acquired trinkets. Scented candles that helped you relax, a jar of candy you mentioned that you liked in passing, and stickers he got just because they reminded him of you. He was starting to take up more space in your room and in your life.
You hadn’t even realized a month had passed. And with that, the talk changed from Cormac’s bet to your glittering revenge, and Enzo’s dedication. He had never been with anyone for this long before and everyone stared on curiously, some bitter with jealousy.
Tonight’s party was underway, everyone buzzed with alcohol and excitement, when Mattheo had announced a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven.
Wanting to avoid being on Enzo’s bad side, he naturally paired you two together, while he spun a bottle for everyone else.
“Go on you two love birds, show everyone how it’s done,” he smirked, motioning towards the closet, starting the game with you two.
You and Enzo shared a knowing smile as you closed the closet door behind you. It was more snug that you thought, Enzo laid down a coat from the closet so you could sit together, bodies pressed side by side.
“So, how have you been?” Enzo asked, pressing his shoulder against yours.
“Not too bad,” you admitted, giving him a wide drunken smile. When he didn’t say anything else, you continued, “The whole thing with Cormac feels like a lifetime ago. The betrayal stings, of course, but it’s more of a dull ache than a sharp, stabbing pain. Does that make sense?” You chuckled self consciously.
Enzo nodded, you had been closed off for most of the time you spent together, he was pleasantly surprised to hear you open up. It didn’t hurt that alcohol also did its work to grease your wheels. “Time heals wounds?”
“More like, sweet revenge and a fake boyfriend.”
It was his turn to laugh, “that, I do understand.”
“You know, they targeted me because they assumed I was unavailable. I mean, it’s true, I didn’t really date before. But I was honestly just waiting for the right person to sweep me off my feet. I thought I was being smart about it. Instead, I was knocked down my feet,” you sighed bitterly. “It really helped, the whole revenge thing, because then I was no longer the victim. I was someone who learned to fight back and stand up for myself.”
“My bad ass,” Enzo said proudly before going quiet again, listening. “So why didn’t you date much?”
“My mom and I love romance novels. So I had high expectations. You know, grand gestures and declarations of love. Cormac did it all and I thought ‘this is what I was waiting for’. Until of course I realized, it was all for show, just how we did. Even romance novels, they were written for entertainment.” You paused.
“What do you think now?” Enzo asked, wanting to hear more.
“I think love is subtler. It’s this sneaky little bastard, just comes up on you when you least expect it. It’s not some flashy expression, it’s who is there when you need them. The person you could be friends with, and feel safe with. You have fun together and have these inside jokes. No matter how long you’ve spent together, you still want more. Kind of like-” you. You never said the last word aloud.
Oh. Realization dawned on you at that moment. It had taken a drunken night for you to realize what your sober mind had been running away from for weeks. You had fallen in love with Lorenzo Berkshire.
Your heart beat quickly, drumming up uncertainties and fears. Resident play boy who could act love so well, there were times you had believed it. Fooled yourself into thinking you were more than just good friends.
You got lost in his laughter and drowned in his sweet, vibrant presence. His sharp edges made you feel brave. Like you could fully be yourself, and more - a bolder version of you.
“Enzo, I” you started, then jolted together when a knock resounded. “Last two minutes,” Mattheo announced, “make sure you’re decent when we open this door. Or not,” he snickered.
The interruption seemed fateful, knocking some sense into you. You couldn’t, would not, risk getting hurt again. Sure, you had survived Cormac, but it was mainly with Enzo’s help. What would happen if he hurt you? Who would help you then?
You didn’t dare think about it. Enzo reached out to toussle your hair, bringing you out of your thoughts. You leaned in and painted your desires on his neck, your lipstick marking him as yours, if only under the guise of fake dating.
“What did you want to say?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.
You cleared your throat, buying time to switch topics. “You don’t really remember me from potions class?”
Enzo smiled sheepishly, looking left and right, while he thought of his response. “Actually, I do. It” he began.
The air suddenly grew cool as light filtered through and Mattheo opened the closet door. He grinned at your toussled hair and Enzo’s lipstick stained neck. “Nice one,” he gave Enzo and then you, a high five.
“I’m not feeling very well. Don’t worry about me, you should stay and enjoy the party,” you mentioned to Enzo and before he could reply, you quickly walked back to your dorm room.
“You really tired out Y/n,” Mattheo told Enzo, wrapping an arm around his. “Come on mate, help me with this game. It’s rare to see you a free man these days.”
Enzo looked longingly at you, wanting to follow, but figured you’d be fine tomorrow. Besides, someone needed to make sure Mattheo didn’t get into too much trouble.
Enzo kicked himself inwardly for letting you go that night. In the days that followed, he hardly saw you despite going to your usual spots. It was almost as if you were ignoring him, but he couldn’t for the life of him, figure out what he had done wrong.
By the fifth day, Enzo was losing his mind. With his charm and some skilfull bribing, he had managed to get your location from one your friends.
At the library, you scribbled your notes onto parchment until your pencil hovered idly at the words. You couldn’t stop thinking of Enzo since your big realization, but didn’t know what to do with your feelings.
Your longing had been so intense, you swore you could smell his perfume as if he were right beside you. An unseen force knocked your pencil to the table, clattering and rolling away.
Oh. Enzo was right beside you.
“H-hi,” you greeted him with a whisper, pasting on a wide smile that didn’t reach your eyes, pretending everything was fine.
“The serial killer clown smile is back,” Enzo commented curiously.
“As you can see,” you said, picking your pencil back up. “I’m busy, let’s talk later” you went back to writing when your pencil was knocked off again by his pencil, like an impromptu fencing match.
“Sure, I’ll come back never,” he said sarcastically.
“You are such a stubborn boy,” you whispered, annoyance creeping its way, as you picked up your pencil and continued ignoring him again, hoping he would get the hint and leave you.
“I am a stubborn boy,” Enzo agrees, knocking the pencil off your hand again.
“Oh that’s it, shove it just one more time,” you started, picking it up again, “and I swear-”
He knocked your pencil off your hand again, but you were ready this time. You parried and clashed your pencil with him.
“I-is this because you haven’t had it for a while? You know, you can go on nightly trysts with other women, right?” you whispered agressively.
“Oh come on, you’re reading too much into this. Stop ignoring me, what’s wrong?” he responded, combatting your pencil.
“The pencils are…very phallic,” you said, determined to knock his pencil from his hand.
He made a disgusted face, “you pervert! I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“You’re the one waving that pencil around,” you replied, not responding to his question. The more off topic you could keep things, the better.
“Do you want it?” Enzo said, smirking and thrusting his pencil suggestively.
“No, I don’t!” you screamed, pushing your chair back as you quickly stood up. It clattered on the ground and echoes resounded through the bookshelves. Heads turned towards you and curious stares swarmed from all corners.
The librarian walked towards you and just before she opened her mouth, you held a hand up. “I’m sorry, Madam Pince,” you kept your tone cool despite the emotions bubbling in you. You calmly picked up the chair and slid it back in, then grabbed your things, “I’ll see myself out.”
Enzo followed in tow, giving Madam Pince an apologetic smile.
Once you were out the library, you turned towards Enzo. “Great, now I can’t study.”
“Great, now you have time to talk to me,” he said in triumph.
When you walked away in irritation, he matched your steps. “Did I do anything wrong?” he asked and the sincerity in his tone caught you off guard.
“No, I just don’t understand,” you muttered, almost to yourself.
“Understand what? Let’s talk about it,” Enzo persisted. “Come on, Y/n, don’t make me beg. Please, please, please, ple-”
“Why are you being so kind to me? Why is it so complicated? Why do I feel so much?” The words tumbled out.
Enzo blinked, gathering his thoughts. “What I wanted to tell you that night, was that of course I remembered you from potions. If anything, it’s me you don’t remember, at least not fully.”
“What do you mean?” you tilted your head to the side in confusion.
“During exams, I accidentally dropped a vial of ingredient. It was a mixture of two other ingredients, that I didn’t have. It was over for me, but you were there in the next table. You discreetly handed me your vial with a generous smile.
I asked if you were sure. You just casually shrugged and said you could make it again. I asked if you wanted anything in return, and you just told me to do my best and not to drop anything else, of course.”
He studied your surprised expression, and the memories flooded back at once.
Enzo contined, “I was floored. All my life, everyone always wanted something in return. Even the girls that gave ‘stellar reviews’. They were after it for the prestige and so I played, it was all a game.
But not with you. You wanted nothing in return. You even forgot about the whole incident. So all this,” he motioned between you, “it’s my way of returning your kindness all those years ago. You never owed me anything.”
Your eyes teared up at the sincerity of his words. “I messed up,” you admitted as a lump formed in your throat. “I know it’s all pretend, but somewhere along the way, I fell for you.”
It was only right you laid your cards on the table, since Enzo did it. He made you feel brave, strong enough to push past your worries and fears. You realized then, deep in your romance-loving heart, some things were worth the risk. Some people were worth the risk.
You shook your head. “I know, it’s foolish. I told myself I wouldn’t. I know your games and your reputation, but then I got to know you beyond that. The lines blurred and it felt real. I hid because I was embarassed.”
Enzo cupped your cheek. “Thank fuck it wasn’t just me.”
“What?” a small laughter escaped your lips.
“I liked you since potions class, Y/n, but I didn’t want to pursue you. Those other girls wanted something in return, it was different. I didn’t want to cheapen your kindness by…approaching you that way. I didn’t know how it could work, so I just watched you from afar.
Fake dating…this whole thing…it was my way in. But somewhere along the line, it stopped being fake to me too. I even told Blaise about our arrangement, and he laughed. He said ‘why do you think it looked convincing? Because you weren’t acting, you idiot.’ But I didn’t know how to tell you, until now.”
“You mean to tell me, the only ones we were fooling, were ourselves?” you scoffed, shaking your head at the irony.
“So let’s stop being fools,” Enzo declared, “and do this for real?”
“For real, this time,” you reached up and hugged him, letting yourself get lost in his embrace and his cologne that now smelled like home.
“You like me, even with my serial killer clown smile?”
“Especially with your serial killer clown smile.”
“Shut up,” you punched him playfully on his shoulder. “No actually, tell me more,” you grinned up at him.
He grinned back, took a deep breath in, and launched into it.
✿ Masterlist | ✿ Lorenzo Berkshire Masterlist
A/N: For the longest time, the working title for this was ‘crying in da club’. I’m so happy to publish a fic again after forever! Feel free to reblog, comment, and heart if you liked it :) Thanks for reading this far.
Tags: meet cute turned fake dating, modern au, Pansy adopts you, bothersome ex, fluff, reader in a bikini
Blaise M List | Join My Taglist
A/n: This is a part of the #blaiseappreciationevent hosted by the lovely @i-await Thank you so much for hosting this. You are absolutely brilliant. Our boy deserves so much love.
“Pansy I can't be here.” You whine, peeking around her silk black hair, catching sight of the last person you wanted to see on this planet. “Not when he is here.” Pansy huffs, rolling her eyes as she catches sight of your ex.
The same ex she watched break your heart over the year. She turns back to you as unties her cover off, revealing her emerald green bikini. “Forget about him. You are here to enjoy the sun and show off that hot bod of yours.”
She was right. It was the first Malfoy pool party you had ever been invited to. All thanks to Pansy who practically adopted you in the fall semester when the two of you were paired up for a project.
You look down at your white oversized t-shirt you had stolen from your sister, under that a brand new black bikini that Pansy had forced on you. Exhaling, you look up, meeting her eyes. “You're right.” Pansy scoffs. “When aren't I?”
You tried to enjoy yourself. Really you did. But it seemed as soon as you felt the tension seep out of your body, your ex finally spotted you. “Hey!” You duck your head, hiding behind a group of seniors. “Shit.”
Finding an opening in the crowd, you take it, bolting towards the pool house. But as if the universe was against you, you run into someone. Someone who was tall enough to tower over you, broad shoulders, and a six pack. Of course it would be your luck to run into a literal Greek god.
Our hands press against his firm naked chest, steadying your balance as his large hands fall onto your hips. "Hey slow down. Where's the-" You look over your shoulder, paling at the sight of your ex closing in and he did not look pleased.
"Kiss me." You plead, turning back to well whoever this was. You'll have to ask for his name after. "What?" You let your hand slide from his chest to the nape of his neck. "My ex is here and he's been chasing me around the pool for nearly half an hour. Please I know I sound crazy but-"
He shuts you off as his lips crash against yours. Your eyes widen before fluttering shut as his hand presses against the back of your neck while the other slides under your shirt. The party and your ex fades away as he claims you as his prey.
He pulls away first, a string of saliva strung between your lips. "Wow." You whisper breathlessly. He chuckles, nodding. "Yeah wow. So um what's your name?" You couldn't help a giddy giggle that fell from your lips as you introduced yourself. "Blaise. Is your ex the one in the red trunks staring daggers at us?"
You groan, resting your head against his chest. "Sorry about him. Apparently he is not ready to move on despite him breaking up with me." Blaise tilts your head up, a frown tugging on the corner of his lips that you desperately wanted to kiss away. "Do not apologize for him. Just play along." Blaise wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. You tilt your head, smiling up at him. "What are you-"
"Hey dickwad, you get off watching people or somethin'?" Your ex flushes a rosy pink as his fists clench into a tight ball. "That's my girlfriend you're cozying up with. But since she decided to be a whore, you can keep her."
"What the fuck did you just call her?" His arm drops as he steps forward, his cool relaxed aura morphing into something sharper. "If you so much look in her direction," Blaise growls, stopping an inch in front of your ex. "I will-"
A pale hand pulls him back, turning him away from your ex. "Blaise, not here." He nods, glaring at him one last time before returning to your side. His arm wraps around your shoulder protectively as he places a kiss to the top of your head. A silent act of claiming you in front of the entire school. "Let's go babe."
"Thank you." You say, shifting your weight in your feet. You had been glued to his side, not even leaving with Pansy when she decided she was done being around people.
Now the sun had gone down, leaving the summer air with a chill. Goosebumps run up your spine as you wrap your arms around your waist. Blaise scoffs, tilting your head up. "Don't thank me." Your eyes widen at how close he is as if he didn't give you the best kiss of your life. "Not for defending you against that prick."
You shake your head, fingers curling around the hand holding your chin. "No thank you for giving me the best day ever. I've never had so much fun with someone. Don't tell Pansy I said that but I mean it. Thank you."
Blaise chuckles, oak brown eyes flickering down to your lips as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. "Let me do this properly."
His hand falls to his side as he takes a step back, leaving you colder. He holds his hand out, smiling as his head tilts to the side. "Zabini, Blaise Zabini." Giggling, you take his hand as you introduce yourself. Blaise brings your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Say you want to get out of here and go grab a bite?" You nod, the smile on your face growing if that was even possible. "Yeah that sounds great."
least sought after girl in the land (a My Man on His Willpower inspired fic)
your boyfriend on his self-help kick is something you don't understand
a/n - mannn its rlly been way too long i completely forgot how i format my fics hehe, i started this fic when i was taking a socrates/self-help class in fall 2025 (around the release of mbf) so this is a loooong time coming heh (this fic is totally not a way for me to flex my self-help module wdym wdym 😛😛😛) anyways pls be nice its my first fic in a long while tyty
tropes/warnings - some mildly suggestive content, established lovers, comedyyyy
The greenhouse was nearly empty. The air still smelled faintly of damp earth and crisp sprouts from the lesson earlier, and the humidity wasn't doing your hair any favours. Still, you appreciated the pleasant warmth underneath the glare of the steadily intensifying sun as dusk grew nearer. The only sound was the soft scrape of your knife against the shrivelfig’s skin. It was therapeutic.
That is, until a familiar arm snaked around your waist, tugging you flush against robes softened from wear, with a faint, lingering scent of cedar.
“Nott,” you admonished, albeit half-heartedly. “You're going to make me cut my thumb off.”
“And yet,” Theo murmured into your hair, voice low, "you haven't." He nestled his head into the crook of your neck, watching idly as you sliced. "Shall I try again?"
You elbowed him lightly, swallowing a smile. “Alright, smartass. Don’t hover. You’ll make me nervous.”
"I make you nervous?"
Clearly, you hadn't elbowed him hard enough the first time. Theo stifled a groan, making an indignant sound in the back of his throat. "So when I hover, it's a nuisance, but when it's you - "
"That's different. I possess sensibilities and faculties you don't."
"Such as?"
You held up your knife.
"The ability to not cut my thumb off."
Theo rolled his eyes, ducking his head to press a chaste kiss to the knuckle of your thumb before you resumed your work.
"So," you said, flinging the skin off the fig, "I take it N.E.W.T level materials are to your liking?"
"Yes. That, and the new class I'm taking."
You looked up. “New?”
Theo finally pulled away, turning to lean against the worktable beside you. He drummed his fingers restlessly on the underside of the table.
"Self-Cultivation and the Subconscious Mind."
You furrowed your brow as you tried to place the professor.
"By Trelawney."
You stared at him, your hands slowing to a stop.
"Please tell me you're doing a bit."
Theo swept up your shavings, suddenly very interested in your cutting board.
Theo gave you a look. “Alright, cool it with the attitude."
You snorted. “Self-cultivation,” you repeated, somewhat mockingly, slicing your next shrivelfig with exaggerated care. “She's hardly cultivated herself, if you ask me.”
"Well, her syllabus is solid," Theo argued. "She's touching on continental philosophy, East Asian rituals, and look - not one word about her beloved Cassandra."
It's a poor attempt at a joke, one you didn't bother laughing at. You watched his impassioned face a little uncertainly. Neither of you was new to Trelawney's elaborate yet hollow hocus pocus. It was just like her to take advantage of the vulnerable. And as much as Theo hated admitting it, self-improvement was something he was touchy about. You imagined it had something to do with the tension between his arrogance and his desire to be a better man than his father.
And yet...his eyes held a gleam you'd never seen before.
Despite your well-founded skepticism, you relented.
“You’re sure?”
Theo gave a half-shrug.
“I think I could stand to change a few things,” he said simply.
You paused, caught off guard by the sincerity. For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the greenhouse and the slow, deliberate scrape of your knife against the cutting board.
You didn't walk around with the impression that you had the world's most perfect boyfriend. As sweet as Theo could be when he wasn't trying to hide that side of him, he was guaranteed to drive you up the wall every now and then. Still, you didn't like this idea. It felt...foreign. It made your tongue sit weird in your mouth.
You could feel him watching you intently. You felt ridiculous; you were clearly overreacting. It was just school. You mentally shook yourself, reaching for another shrivelfig.
How much could a person truly change?
"Well," you said, keeping your voice clear, slicing through the fig, "if that's what you want."
Theo gave a distracted nod, a slight frown creasing his forehead. You put your knife down, scooping your figs into a jar.
“No Cassandra?” you mused with a teasing lilt to lighten the mood. "Whatever will she talk about?"
Theo's lips quirked, his eyes picking up a familiar slant that evoked funny feelings in your chest.
"Hardy har har, you're hilarious. Now hurry up with your figs. Dinner's started and I'm starving."
Making a face at the end of your last look-through, you flipped over the parchment. Your essay was finally done, and the next one wasn't due until a week later. That left you with a good, stress-free 6-and-a-half-day break before you had to start on that one. You rolled out your joints, from your elbows to your knuckles, and stretched your back.
From your desk, you looked over to where Theo was lying on your bed in what looked to be a considerably more comfortable position. It had been a few weeks since Trelawney's class had started, but the dedication with which he stayed on top of it suggested that the novelty of the subject had yet to wear off for him.
Even now, he lay slumped with a hand propping his head up, eyes lidded, engrossed in some unreasonably heavy tome with a waning attention giving way to sleep. Somewhat unethically, you drank in the sight of his eyebags, mussed hair and unbuttoned shirt from your vantage point. Exhaustion looked ridiculously good on him.
"I'm calling it a night," you announced, placing your quill down.
When Theo didn't even stir, you tried again.
"You've been reading that for ages. You're going to spoil your beautiful, perfect eyes reading that long."
He finally looked up at the mention of his beautiful, perfect eyes - self-absorbed prat that he was - his mouth curving into a sloping smile. He flipped a page.
"You worry too much."
"Occupational hazard of dating someone whose idea of fun is having his skull smashed open by a Bludger."
Theo's smile faltered. He looked tired in more ways than one.
"I keep telling you, the idea is to avoid the Bludgers."
"Thirty percent of professional Quidditch players suffer from significant brain damage by the end of their career," you argued earnestly, not without some anxiety. Theo stared at you.
"You have got to stop listening to the WWN," he muttered, glancing back at his book. You shifted in your chair, turning to face him.
"What are you reading anyway?"
Theo sighed. "Further reading for Trelawney's class." He pulled away from the book, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. "She already has us thinking about our final projects. "
You shook your head. "I still can't wrap my head around how you're taking her so seriously. Have you forgotten when you thought she sabotaged your Divination final?"
He suppressed a groan. "Don't."
"Because I haven't."
"Yeah, I know, Y/N."
"You were so convinced it was a trick teacup or something."
"Never have I ever seen tea leaves behave that w- " he began heatedly, stopping only at the sight of your ill-disguised amusement.
"Oh. I see how it is." Theo finally shut the book and set it aside. His eyes were suddenly bright in the candlelight. A thrill ran through you. "Trying to get a rise out of me, L/N?"
You shrugged coyly, nibbling at a fingernail.
"Me? Get a rise out of you?"
You were laying the faux innocence on a little thick, but Theo's bedroom eyes were finally fixed on something other than that book - rather appreciatively, too. You stood and padded towards him. He instinctively grabbed your wrist, his thumb dragging over your pulse point.
"I thought you were too spiritually evolved to be bothered by uneducated mortals like me."
His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline alarmingly fast. He tugged you down onto his lap, and you let him, a giddy feeling somersaulting in your stomach. His arm caught your waist, his nose brushed your temple, and once again, he was the Theo you knew and loved - the one who couldn't go two minutes without having his hands on you.
Theo's mouth found yours as he toyed with the hem of your blouse. His teeth grazed your lower lip. It felt comfortable, familiar - at least, it almost did. As you tangled your hands in his hair, a faint, smoky scent sliced through the hazy heat.
It hit you like a ton of bricks. It was the same foreign scent that clung to his books, his notes, his quills. Something earthy and woody and wholly unwelcome, as far as you were concerned.
"Teddy," you gasped before you could stop yourself, momentarily agitated.
Theo's hands barely slowed. He hummed against your skin.
"Hmm?"
But how to say it? You couldn't find the words to express the frustration choking you. This class clearly meant a lot to him. What if you hurt his feelings? Or worse, what if you drove him away?
And now he was close, impossibly close. He was pressing a kiss to the stuttering pulse point under your jaw. You tightened your hold on him, rigid and confused by the thoughts plaguing your head.
"You smell like sandalwood," you murmured hesitantly instead. Like incense. You gave a shaky breath of laughter. His mouth was already moving again, slow and deliberate. You kissed him back, harder this time, anything to knock the thought clean out of your head.
The sour scent lingered in the air, looming ominously in the back of your mind.
Every relationship goes through its slumps, don't they?
At least, that was what you spent the next couple of weeks trying to convince yourself. You couldn't be insufferably, madly in love, ripping each other's clothes off forever. It was only natural that Theo was starting to feel a little distant from you. It was only natural that the two of you were drifting to opposite sides of the bed. It was only natural that you were punching the air, repressing the urge to scream into your pillow, every night.
But no matter - there were 7 ways to liven up a romance again, and number 5 was shocking (according to Witch Weekly).
You gave yourself one last look over before heading out. This was much silkier and clingier than what you were used to wearing, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
You stepped out of the bathroom. Theo was sitting up in your bed, engaging in his now all too familiar routine of some 'light' bedtime reading.
"Remember that time in Florence, where you were reading that map wrong? Well, here Epictetus says - "
You cleared your throat.
The words died at his lips once he glanced up, finally registering the pointed look you were giving him. His breath hitched. Surprise flickered across his face.
"You look...different."
You leaned against the doorframe, watching him expectantly. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he looked uncomfortable.
"You know what Epictetus had to say about desires?"
Was he being serious right now?
You huffed, seeing where this was going. "I don't know and I don't care."
"That we must master them before they master us."
You stared at Theo blankly. It was all you could do to not roll your eyes in his face. Witch Weekly hadn't mentioned what to do with a boyfriend high on self-help. You deflated, feeling his interest in your pajamas, if any, waning with every passing word.
"Who?" you asked tiredly.
"Epictetus. Originally a slave boy to Epaphroditus, secretary to Nero, he was a philosopher who inspired the likes of Marcus Aurelius and..."
You didn't respond. As unsupportive as it was, you had begun tuning him out a lot more lately. You were starting to get very sick of the idea of some old, long-gone Greek guy dictating your sex life.
Theo didn't seem to catch the hint until you were climbing under the covers, muttering under your breath, fumbling for your eye mask in your nightstand.
"Good, different-good, is what I meant," he tried, but it was too little too late. You found your mask and put it on, turning your back to him. You could feel him draw closer, his hand tentatively coming to your waist, his thumb dragging across the fabric.
"Can't I get another look? Please?"
"I'm not in the mood anymore, Theodore."
Theo winced. He was really in the doghouse.
"I'm sorry. Can we try this again? I'll - "
You sat up, ripping off your eye mask.
"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not letting you read all night. I'm sorry for distracting you from your favourite class. I'm sorry I have desires." Theo had said none of those things, but this was quickly becoming one of those petty fights where you were a little more dramatic than you needed to be. It was stupid, but you were beginning to feel the familiar sting of hot tears pricking your eyes. "I'm sorry I'm not as hot or attractive as Epictetus."
To his credit, Theo looked appropriately dismayed. For the first time in weeks, you had no doubt he understood exactly how you were feeling. You were finally on the same page - just a horrible one.
"Y/N - "
"I'm tired, Theo," you said, sinking back into the bed. "I just want to get some sleep."
Your anger, as hot and quick as it had come, was already dissipating. Fleeting though it was, it had been sapping all the same. You weren't sure if it was the irritation, the uncomfortably warm blanket, or the past couple of weeks, but you were left feeling drained. You mumbled into your pillow as your eyes fluttered shut.
"Let's talk in the morning. Okay?"
You didn't wait for a reply as you drifted off.
A couple days before the end of the semester, you were making daisy chains with your friends in a corner of the Great Hall for May Day baskets. Well, Ivy and Melissa were making daisy chains. You were ripping up the smaller flowers that they were too slow to scoop out of your reach. Your friends, bless them, had been more than patient, but it didn't seem to help. The longer you went without talking Theo's ear off, the tetchier you became, and neither of you wanted to admit you were beginning to avoid each other. It was a hopeless, dismal situation that was doing your head in.
Melissa watched you rip off the petals of yet another daisy with a forlorn expression.
"You and Theo still not talking?"
You rolled your eyes.
"Why wouldn't we be talking?" you spat out bitterly, for what had to be the hundredth time. You picked up a couple of undamaged stalks and began weaving them together with a slightly manic energy.
"I should be soooo lucky to have a partner like him. My boyfriend...is empathetic. My boyfriend...is in touch with his emotions! My boyfriend..."
Your finger slipped. You crumpled up your daisy chain, relishing the ache in your white-knuckle grip.
"My boyfriend won't touch me with a twenty-foot pole, actually. And I'm sick of it."
You released your crushed creation, and stared at it. You were a little sorry to have destroyed so many perfectly good flowers.
"Aw, Y/N," Ivy petted. "Don't sulk. I'm sure it'll all turn out fine. Just give him time."
You lifted your head, a moody expression on your face. "I'm not sulking," you sulked. You shifted the beheaded daisies around disinterestedly. "I just want my boyfriend back."
You felt a hand settle on your shoulder, and you glanced up. Speak of the devil.
"Hey."
Theo was wearing a soft blue sweater, scrunched at the elbow in this sometimes-hot, sometimes-chilly weather. You turned your back to him, carefully picking out the next daisy.
"Ivy," Melissa said, "I think the table's getting a little full. Let's take the finished chains upstairs."
Ivy looked up. The daisy chains stacked on her head teetered dangerously.
"What do you mean? We've got plenty of room. Just put them on - ow, ow, okay, I'm coming."
While Melissa dragged Ivy away, Theo's fingers slipped off your shoulder as he sat next to you. His legs faced outwards while yours were crossed underneath the table. Good. At least you didn't have to look at his stupid face.
Theo's knee bounced restlessly. "Do you want to talk?"
You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes.
"Talk about what?"
He thought for a moment.
"Maybe why you're so...pissed."
Unbelievable. He could not be this dense. You finally snapped.
"I hate your stupid fucking self-help class!"
"Okay, wow. That's...that's something."
"It is so full of shit. You are so full of shit. I don't even recognise you anymore. And - you wanna know something? Not once have I complained, or criticised or, or, or critiqued you, but now all of a sudden you're too good to sleep with me?"
"I never thought I was - "
"I've never cared how perfect you are, or how perfect you could be."
"Well, I'm not trying to be perfect."
Theo's eyes were shifty, and the patience in his voice was strained. You closed your eyes, trying to pick the right words jumbled in your frazzled state of mind. What was going to get the message through that thick head of his?
"Do you remember," you murmured, after a moment, "that pick up line you fed me at the Yule Ball, in our fourth year? The one you dragged Blaise along for?"
Theo scoffed lightly. You had a feeling the memory embarrassed him. You pressed on.
"You said something about...right. You said you heard that I liked bad boys. And you made Blaise say that - "
All these years later, the memory still pulled a wry smile onto your face.
"That you were the worst. It was...awful, really. It has to be one of the worst pick up lines ever. It doesn't even make any sense."
You opened your eyes.
"But it was sweet. It was you. Like that other time we were having a fight, and you were following me everywhere, begging to talk, and I kept saying I didn't want to talk to you, so you said -
"Can you want to talk to me."
You looked up. For the first time in weeks, there was a softness in his eyes that convinced you that you really were on the same page.
"So you do remember."
Theo's mouth twitched. He gently skimmed a daisy chain between the two of you.
"Kind of hard to forget." He tilted his head and sighed, almost wistfully, staring at the rafters of the Great Hall. "I'd be dead and buried before I forget anything about you."
You covered his hand. When his eyes met yours, stormy with conflict, you had the odd sensation of deja vu. There was something so familiar about this place, one that you would surely visit again and again. It felt like falling in love with him all over again. Like once again making the promise to coax him out of his tortured shell.
"I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to improve yourself." You finally thawed, leaning into Theo, resting your head against his shoulder. "But it's scary to think a better version of you is a version without...me."
You felt Theo's chest rise as he sucked in a breath between his teeth.
"Don't say that."
"But it's true."
"No. How could you - " You lifted your head as Theo turned to face you. His eyes were fraught, rheumy, and he looked as though he were turning purple with all the unsaid things he didn't know how to get out.
"Before I knew anything about, you know, what I wanted to do, or who I wanted to be, I knew I wanted you."
You didn't know what to say. You rested your head on his shoulder. Theo pulled you closer.
"I'm always going to want you, Y/N," he said softly. From here, you could hear his heart hammering in his chest. The adrenaline, the panic - it was the most real Theo had been in weeks. "It's the only thing I know how to do."
As the two of you grew silent, you marvelled at how comfortably your cheekbone rested just above his collarbone, how your shoulder fit in the dip of his chest, how perfectly the two of you slotted against each other. There was something that was - and always would be - so familiar about Theo. You thought about your afternoons in the common room, your Hogsmeade dates, and every evening that ended just like this - head on his chest, eyes too heavy with sleep to open. It was a wonder there wasn't a depression in the shape of you carved into his chest. You'd stay there forever.
"So this is it, then," you mumbled.
"What?"
"You and me."
Theo flipped his hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, sniffling gently.
"Looks like it."
You sat up suddenly, having just remembered something.
I've gotten multiple requests for a part 2 <3 and I haven't been able to stop thinking about No More Tears since I wrote it so here are some ideas hehe, if any of these resonate lmk and I'll try to incorporate them into the final product!
(This post does reference the original fic heavily so if you haven't read it yet I would recommend reading it first here)
Literally the second you leave the Slytherin common room in the morning, Blaise finds your ex and threatens him like he's never been threatened before
"Do not look at her, do not talk to her, do not think about her. Understood?"
Blaise is determined to make sure that he never bothers you again
As soon as the other Slytherin boys see Blaise interact with you, they can tell how down bad he is for you
(They could tell even before your breakup just by how bad Blaise couldn't stand your ex lolol)
They tease him about it at first ofc, but they never give you a hard time when you come around
Pansy and Daphne are thrilled, literally over the moon to have another girl to hang out with
Blaise knows he has to tread carefully after your breakup since you're still trying to sort out your emotions
He waited two years to be with you while you were with your ex, he can wait a little longer
But he also can't resist the opportunity to show you how your ex should have been treating you all along
So he's so sweet and gentle with you, letting you talk to him about absolutely anything and doing little things to make your day easier, like packing extra quills in case you lose yours or carrying your books for you
When you and Blaise do start dating, it feels like the most natural thing in the world
One day, a few months after your breakup, you're walking next to him in the corridor and just slip your hand into his
You don't even realize you've done it until you feel his hand tugging at yours and then it hits you like a ton of bricks
You really like him
For a second, you're scared that you ruined everything or he'll think you're trying to use him as a rebound
But then, he pulls you in for a hug and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and both of you just know
You would've been happy to let that be that, but Blaise doesn't do things halfway
He insists on asking you to be his girlfriend officially
He makes a picnic for you on the Hogwarts lawn with all of your favorite foods
When you come back to your dormitory in the evening, you find a Kelly bag full of roses sitting on your bed
It's the most expensive thing you own; he insists it's only a drop in the ocean compared to what you deserve
You're a little bit nervous about the gossip that's liable to spread through Hogwarts when everyone finds out you're dating your ex's biggest rival
Blaise knows this, and he makes sure you know that he'll strike down anyone who has the nerve to judge you for it
When the two of you are out in public, he steps in between you and anyone who's staring so you don't see them, and talks to you to distract you from anyone whispering
Once you and Blaise start dating, he doesn't really care about the rivalry with your ex anymore
In his mind, he has you, and nothing else matters
But sometimes he does think about those days before your breakup, when he'd have to watch you with your ex, knowing he could treat you so much better
(He remembers the way you would just shrink when you were around your ex, trying to make yourself smaller to appease his ego. He never wants to see that look in your eyes again.)
When he remembers those times, he tries extra hard to make you smile, either by spoiling you in some little way or showering you with affection, just to prove to you that you'll never have to experience that hurt again
He prides himself on being able to buy you things your ex couldn't, but nothing makes him more satisfied than hearing you whimper his name as he kisses your neck, or working you up with little touches and kisses until you're gasping with desire
It reminds him that you're his girl, and no one can do a thing about it
In conclusion, he's so mwah, I can't stop thinking abt this fic!
pairing: theo nott x reader, mattheo riddle x reader
summary: theo is watching how your relationship with mattheo is slowly destroying you. theo just hopes you would realize how much more he loves you.
warning: toxic relationship, use of language
the drink in your hand trembled as you stood in the middle of the room, your whole body shaking. your eyes were fixed on your boyfriend, who didn't even notice that you were looking at him.
how could he? he was way too busy flirting with some blonde girl, exchanging smug jokes and checking out her boobs whenever she looked away for a second.
"y/n?" enzo had stepped beside you, a hint of worry crossing his face as he noticed what you were looking at. "want me to—" before he could fulfill his sentence, you had gulped the rest of your drink and pressed the empty glass against his chest, leaving the common room in a hurry.
it were those moments in which you hated how calculated mattheo could be. it wasn't an accident, he had known you would see him. he often did things like that whenever he felt that you had wronged him.
now it had just been you saying no to hooking up upstairs. you wanted to spend the evening with your friends. the ones you barely saw since you had started dating mattheo. and now he had ruined your whole evening.
mattheo always behaved like that. if he couldn't have something, no one could.
it was exhausting and you were just tired.
you walked up the stairs and out of the dungeon, leaving the slytherin common room behind, before you slipped out of the door and into the cold air of the night.
you walked around the castle, before you found the stairs to madam hooch's office, sitting down on them so exhausted, like you had walked for years.
the sky was dark and cloudy, but the moon peeked out through small spaces, illuminating your position on the stairs. you felt so lonely out here, like you were alone in the world entirely.
you wondered if mattheo had noticed that you had left the party, probably not. and even if enzo had told him, you were sure he wouldn't make an effort to come and search for you.
mattheo was your boyfriend, but you could not allow yourself to think he belonged to you.
"what are you doing?" the voice was warm and settled onto your shoulders like a warm blanket. but in reality, theo had taken off his jacket and draped it over your shivering form.
"thanks" you muttered, slipping your arms into the sleeves and pulling the jacket close to shield your body from the cold.
theo sat down beside you, offering a cigarette, which you declined.
you could pratically feel him open his mouth to ask for the reason of you being out here once more, but you weren't keen on talking about that, so you quickly changed the topic: "where have you been all night?"
theo shrugged. "in the library"
you shook your head and laughed at the ridiculousness of his answer. theo grinned at the sound.
"and what about you? why didn't you stay at the party?"
"party's are boring" you shrugged, avoiding the real reason for your hurried leaving.
"yeah" theo nodded. "i think that, but not you. remember? you managed to drag me to every party this past year"
"still don't know how i did that to be honest" you smiled softly.
"me neither" theo shook his head, lightning a cigarette and taking a drag. "so i take it mattheo was a jerk again"
"theo" you sighed, knowing that he would hate what mattheo had done this time. and even though they used to be best mates, theo had shown no particular interest in being on mattheo's side during any of your typical fights. actually he would always get quite angry whenever you told him.
"you can tell me, you know?" he took another drag from the cigarette. "it's not your job to protect him"
"he's your best friend" you shrugged. "what happens between us should not affect your friendship"
"and what about our friendship?" theo moved a finger between you both. "don't i have to be loyal to you too?"
"no" you whispered, regretting it the same exact moment, but the damage had been done, theo looked at you with an incredulous look in his eyes, waiting for an explanation. "not when it changes the way you feel about mattheo."
theo huffed. "i can't believe that you're still defending him" he stood up, the anger overtaking his features, as he threw down his cigarette and stumped it out on the ground.
you stood up too, stepping closer and trying to catch his gaze. "theo, please—"
"why are you doing that for him?" he asked. his voice had grown softer again, the anger evaporating as he saw the tears brimming in your eyes. he was just trying to understand now. "why are you putting up with the way he treats you?"
"because he's my boyfriend" you said as if that was answer enough.
theo shook his head. "no, no" he muttered between clenched teeth, "he hurts you and you stay. why?"
"because i love him"
theo froze in his movement and his gaze wandered up to meet yours. the pain stricken expression on his face hurt you far more than mattheo's betrayal could've had.
"okay" he muttered. but that word sounded so foreign coming from his mouth, as if nothing was okay or would be okay ever again.
he buried his hands in the pockets of his trousers, before he send you a simple nod and started to walk away. "you can keep the jacket."
you stood frozen in the middle of the hogwarts grounds, your eyes focused on his retrieving figure, your body warmed by his jacket. why did you feel like you had just betrayed theo? why did it feel like you had hurt his feelings? why did you think about him and every thought of mattheo was far gone from your mind?
-------------
the next day was a broody saturday. no light came through the window when you awoke to heavy knocking on your dorm door the next morning.
"are you going to open the door?" pansy's voice rang out and your eyes fell on her. she was laying in her bed, but her feet were laying on the end of the headrest, her whole body turned in the wrong direction. her voice sounded muffled as she pressed a pillow to her face, probably to ease her headache. "he's been calling your name for the past ten minutes" she groaned.
"really?" you asked, quickly slipping out of your bed and walking to the door. theo had been pretty disappointed yesterday, but maybe he had come to realize that he couldn't be angry at you.
you swung open the door with a hopeful smile and his name on the top of your tongue.
your smile died quickly when it wasn't theo, but mattheo standing in front of the door, half of his face hidden behind a giant bouquet of red roses. "oh" you muttered.
"hey" mattheo smiled, pushing the flowers into your left hand. "sorry about yesterday" he shrugged as if he had spilled a drink and you had been angry about that. "enzo said you were pretty angry"
"oh, did he?" you rolled your eyes at the missing sorrow or regret in mattheo's voice, he didn't even notice that you were being sarcastic.
"well, he said you rushed out of the party, so yeah, that's what he told me"
"great" you grinned sarcastically, which was lost on him again, as he smiled back.
"great" he peeked around your body and his eyes fell on pansy. "had one too many shots last night, huh pans?"
"kill yourself, riddle" pansy muttered beneath her pillow.
mattheo easily ignored her. "well, i better get going, i need to find draco and ask him for his divination essay."
"yeah, of course" you nodded. "good luck" you said with a tighlipped smile.
mattheo send you a smug smile, as if he wanted to say that he didn't need any luck to get what he wanted, before he winked and turned around, walking back to the slytherin common room.
you closed the door with an exasperated sigh. pansy lifted the pillow from her head as she watched you. you threw the roses down in the rubbish bin, before you set them on fire with a simple spell.
"he does know you're allergic to roses, yeah?"
your eyes wandered to your red and slightly swollen hands, and you tried to hold back the sneeze that was about to break from you.
pansy sighed at the lack of an answer, knowing fully well, mattheo had never really known the fact or simply forgotten it.
she sat up in bed and fished for her wand that had somehow gotten into her sock, before she waved you closer and quickly removed the allergic reaction from your body.
"thank you" you smiled, before you threw yourself down on your bed and stared at the ceiling.
"you should really break up with that idiot" your head turned to look at pansy, who looked a lot like she had died and left her body down in the common room last night.
"it was a mistake" you shrugged.
"i wouldn't call something that could lead to your death a mistake" pansy shook your head "and you weren't even happy to see him"
"because i was still angry with him"
"sure" she nodded sarcastically. "or because you expected someone else"
you send her a look that clearly told her to shut up, before you got up and walked into the bathroom, searching for your toothbrush.
"okay, fine" she smiled smugly. "i'll stop talking, but all i'm saying is that you're obviously in love with theo"
pansy was clearly still affected by all the alcohol she had consumed the night before, or she would've been able to dodge the package of toothpaste that hit her against the forehead a second later.
--------------
hogsmeade was refreshing that time of year. it felt like it was reborn once the winter months were over and spring slowly came. the trees were growing fresh green leaves and you couldn't help but smile as you noticed kids playing in less thick clothes than during the winter, being able to have more of the day because the sun would set later.
you group of friends walked through the little passage until you reached the three broomsticks and sat down at your usual table. a round of butterbeers was ordered and your friends quickly fell into conversation.
draco, blaise and mattheo lead the conversation, discussing the goal mattheo had thrown during last weeks quidditch game.
"you should’ve seen it," he said, smirking as he spread his arms like he was already replaying the highlight reel in his mind. "top corner, perfect spin. keeper didn’t even flinch."
draco clapped him on the shoulder. "legendary, mate. best shot of the season."
mattheo grinned, turning his dark eyes to you. "shame you didn’t think so, though, huh, baby?"
your brows knitted together in confusion. "what do you mean?"
"oh, come on." his smirk widened, his tone light but laced with venom. "i score the goal of the season, and you couldn’t even be bothered to celebrate properly. what was it you said? ‘i'm not coming upstairs with you tonight, mattheo.’"
the table errupted in laughter, draco shaking his head as blaise muttered, "ouch," under his breath.
you couldn't see it, but to your right side, theo's fists clenched around his butterbeer until the whites of his knuckles were visible.
enzo, not as inclined as his friends by mattheo's words, shook his head. "come on, man. that's not cool" he muttered.
"he's right" pansy quickly agreed. "no topic for butterbeer sunday, right?"
mattheo rolled his eyes, not even caring about his friends words. "i'm sure you'd be frustrated too if your girlfriend would never let you fuck her"
"mattheo!" you scolded, as draco and blaise stiffled their laughter, pansy and enzo exchanged worried glances and theo looked like he was ready to test the quality of his jug by slamming it against mattheo's head.
"what? did i hit a sore spot?" he smiled satisfied at your growing discomfort.
you didn't answer and mattheo's eyes wandered from you to theo. "bet you had no problem to suck someone off if that someone was theo, huh? don't act like i didn't notice the way you keep oggling each other. theo's just waiting for the right moment to fuck you"
the table had grown quiet. not even draco and blaise made a noise as they stared from theo to you and back to mattheo, who seemed to be enjoying the situation a lot more than he should.
"you're an absolute fucking idiot, you know that?" your voice broke the silence, as you slid out of your seat, threw down the money for your butterbeer and left through the door.
mattheo's smile died as soon as the door fell closed behind you. "shit" he muttered, shaking his head. "she can never take a fucking joke, i swear" he laughed to himself. "as if she would ever leave me for you theo, hm? and is if you would ever do that to me. come on guys, just a joke"
his friends stayed unmoving, not reacting to the reveal. mattheo shook his head once more, mouthing something about 'fucking humorless losers' before he stood up and followed through the door behind you.
"that was... intense" enzo mumbled.
the group relaxed a little, now that mattheo was gone.
"shit that was more than just intense" pansy shook her head and took a sip from her butterbeer. "i mean even draco and blaise were shocked and they're the biggest idiots i know. not even you two would've dared to say something like that. joke or whatever."
blaise and draco, who would have normally protested at being called idiots, just nodded, still stunned from what happened a minute ago.
"but it's not true right?" enzo asked, leaning forward to gain a look at theo, who hadn't said a word the entire time. "i mean you don't really want to fuck—"
"enzo" pansy shook her head, interrupting the oblivious boy.
"shit" blaise said loudly, his eyes growing even bigger in incredible disbelief. "don't tell me mattheo was right. you really want to fuck his girlfriend?"
"mate" draco shook his head at blaise, not really believing his words, before his eyes felt on theo, who looked unnaturally guilt-ridden. "fuck he's right, isn't he?"
"boys, come on" pansy mumbled, trying her best to jump tp theo's and also your defence. "it's not like that"
"not like that, huh?" blaise repeated with a wiggle of his brows.
"don't tell me you already did it" enzo said, mouth wide open.
that made theo look up. "of course we didn't, don't be ridiculous" he shook his head.
"yeah, but you didn't deny that you want to" draco pointed out with a smile as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "this is by far the most interesting thing that happened since enzo managed to make snape's cauldron explode as a prank and got away with it too"
"that wasn't even a prank" enzo corrected. "that was an honest mistake and i nearly lost my right eyebrow"
"yada yada" blaise made a throwaway hand gesture.
"it's not" theo shook his head, circling back to what draco had said. "because nothing is happening or will be happening, so you have to find your entertainment somewhere else"
"what a shame" draco muttered as he shook his head, a pout on his lips.
"wait, what?" pansy interrupted surprised. "you're really gonna let her stay with that absolute asshole? i mean we all knew mattheo was a jerk, but it's reached a new level, don't you think?"
"it's not my place—" theo shrugged regretful.
"your fucking place?" pansy muttered in disbelief. "you've been practically eye-fucking y/n and acting like her boyfriend anytime you had the opportunity to for months, but suddenly it 'isn't your place'? are you fucking with me?"
"what am i supposed to do? steal mattheo's girlfriend, really?"
"tell her for starters" enzo suggested.
"there's no chance that would work" theo shook his head. "the group would basically implode. mattheo would hate me, hell i already don't like him that much anymore"
"mattheo will come around" blaise noted. "it's not like he ever really cared before. for all we know he could be cheating on y/n"
"what?" pansy and theo asked at the same time.
"he's been buying condoms nonstop" blaise shrugged. "and if she really didn't want to have sex than i'm not sure who he's using them with"
"fuck" draco shook his head, less amused and a lot more worried now. "that's heavy."
"fucking asshole!" theo snapped, standing abruptly and tossing a few galleons onto the table to cover his untouched drink. he turned toward the door, shrugging on his jacket as his friends watched in silence.
“where are you going?” pansy called after him, her tone a mix of curiosity and encouragement.
“where do you think?” he replied without looking back, his voice tinged with determination.
as the door swung shut behind him, the table fell into an uneasy quiet. pansy exhaled loudly, leaning back with a shake of her head.
“honestly,” she muttered, glancing at the others. “i hope he punches mattheo.”
draco finally smirked again, his usual smugness returning. “i hope he does too,” he said, earning a surprised laugh from blaise and an approving nod from enzo.
"and after that i hope he fucks—“
"enzo!"
---------------
theo stood in the middle of the street, his eyes searching for a hint of where mattheo and you had went.
"hey theo" marlene hoppstech stepped next to him as she noticed him standing there. she was a hufflepuff, a blonde girl that was a bit too short for her age, but quite nice.
"sorry, marlene, but i'm busy, looking for—"
"mattheo?" she asked and theo perked up.
"have you seen him?"
"who hasn't" she shrugged. "i never heard someone scream so loud in my life. y/n broke up with him. right here" she pointed to the ground beneath him. "he went in that direction, i heard him say something about firewhiskey."
"and she?"
"huh?" marlene asked confused. she was taken aback by the implication that theo didn't even care where his best friend had gone and how he was.
"where did y/n go?"
"well" marlene looked from left to right, trying to recall in which direction you had walked off. "i think back up to the castle"
"thank you" in a moment of overwhelming happiness, theo pulled marlene close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "you're an angel"
and off he was. marlene could only look after him in stunned silence as theodore nott, unemotional, quiet, calm theodore nott sprinted off in the direction of the castle.
theo earned more than just confused looks as he ran through the hallways of hogwarts. eyes were following him around every corner he crossed and a few people seemed to be debating if they should start running too, thinking that theodore nott would need a really good reason to be running from something.
but theo wasn't running away from something. he was running to something. he was running to you.
and if you weren't the most important thing in the world, he wasn't sure what was.
he ran past all your favorite places, anywhere that you could've possibly been: the common room, the library, the hall of the herbology classrooms, the big tree by the lake and finally the astronomy tower.
by the time theo arrived at the highest platform, he was absolutely out of breath, had he wasted no time making any breaks as he basically sprinted through the entire castle.
and still, he hadn't found you.
he was gaping for air, his hands resting on his knees, and he was sure his heart would give out any minute now, when he heard someone coming up the stairs.
when he heard you coming up the stairs.
he would've been able to tell apart the sound of your steps from millions of people.
"theo" you said as soon as your eyes fell on him. you didn't seem surprised upon seeing him. almost as if you had expected him to be here.
"y/n" theo sighed. a smile crept upon his face.
"granger said you’ve been searching for me" you continued. "she said you were frantically running through the library and something about madam pince banning you for like a week. is that true?"
"yes, yes" theo nodded, his smile growing with each word. "it's all true"
"well, okay" you nodded confused, not quite understanding what was happening.
there was a moment in which neither of you spoke. you simply just looked at each other.
theo noticed how there was not a hint of tears on your face, almost like the breakup had never happened. you looked not much different from when he had last seen you in the three broomsticks. apart from his jacket on your form. it was a mystery why you had decided to switch your own (the one you had worn to hogsmeade) against his.
you noticed his dissheveled look, like he had really been running for the past hour. you heard the quickness of his breath like he hadn't had any time to breathe for minutes. his hair was messy, moved by the wind that was now blowing over both of you and you wondered what was so important it made hermione granger get up from her astronomy homework and come look for you.
"i broke up with mattheo" you finally said to break the silence. "down in hogsmeade. in front of like a million people"
"i know" theo's smile was still intact.
you furrowed your brows and your eyes slipped from him to the enchanted record player that was sometimes used during astronomy class.
"theo, can you waltz?" you asked suddenly, just as surprised by your question as he seemed to be. "if not i could show you"
theodore nott came from one of the most prestigious pureblood families, he had spent more than half of his life at balls or receptions and learned classical dancing from the age of five.
waltz was probably the easiest one of all the variations of dances he could quickly pull the steps up to in his mind.
but theo smiled and shook his head. "no, i can't waltz"
with a soft flick of your wand, the record player came to life, and a soft melody began to hum through the opened space.
theo took the hand you held out without hesitation, his fingers curling gently around yours. you placed your other hand on his shoulder, and he instinctively rested his on your waist. the warmth of his palm against you made your heart flutter, though you quickly masked it by taking a small step back.
“okay,” you said, trying to focus on the instructions. “it’s just three steps—forward, side, close. then repeat.”
“sounds easy enough” theo replied, though his mind was entirely elsewhere. you were so close, your presence intoxicating. he had been prepared to fight mattheo, prepared to do anything to make you see your worth, and now here you were, teaching him to waltz as though nothing else existed in the world.
you both danced around the room gracefully, theo turned and led you like he had done it a thousand times before.
"you lied," you accused, a soft laugh chasing after your words.
theo smiled. the softest smile you had ever seen on anyone, as he dipped down his head and whispered into your ear: "i would prefer to call it strategic deception."
"oh?" you made, trying to cover up the blush creeping onto your face. "and what strategy are you following then?"
theo shrugged and furrowed his eyebrows. "is it working?"
you didn't answer. simply stared up at him in awe, as he continued to make you flow around the room, turning you away and catching you back in his arms.
you weren't gonna give an answer.
theo didn't need an answer.
finally, with one last turn, theo stepped moving. he looked down at you and you looked up at him, still caught in his arms.
reality caught back up to you as you stepped out his embrace and both of your arms fell back against your side.
"not bad, nott." you complimented as you presented him with an impressed smile. your left hand caught your right one as you began to play with your fingers, clearly nervous.
theo laughed. "i had a good teacher."
the moment was over. it had fled quicker than both of you could've tried to hold onto it.
you weren't waltzing across the platform of the astronomy tower any longer. now it was just theo and you, standing across from each other. staring.
something had clearly shifted between you. you both knew it.
but neither of your said it, as you turned to leave, theo right behind you.
his footsteps were steady, unrushed, matching yours as you descended the tower in silence. he didn’t try to stop you, didn’t try to speak.
there was no need.
no need to tell you just now, no need to hold you back, no need to chase after you. you were right there in front of him—not just on the stairs, but in every way that mattered.
and merlin, theo could be patient. he knew that the day would come, that not only would he be looking at you, but you would finally turn around and meet his gaze.
summary; in the quiet of the war’s ending moments, you’re desperate for everything to be alright, even if it’ll never be.
content warnings; angst, heavy angst, angstiest angst I’ve written in a hot minute, Mattheo is also heavily mentioned and takes part in the fic, so I put him in the tags as well. no comfort just pain. I’m so sorry.
word count; 2.6k
The war was over—or at least, that was what the world insisted on telling you.
Because what settled in its wake didn’t feel like victory. It wasn’t peace. It was something heavier. Thicker. A silence so complete it swallowed every sound until even your own breathing felt intrusive, too loud in a place that no longer knew how to hold life. It pressed against your ears until they rang, until you found yourself straining to hear something—anything—beneath it.
Your eyes moved constantly, unable to rest, skimming over the wreckage of the castle that had once felt endless, alive. The place that raised you now lay gutted, its insides exposed to the open air. Corridors you could’ve walked blindfolded in were now unrecognizable, reduced to broken stone and splintered beams. Archways stood half-collapsed like ghosts of what they used to be, their grandeur stripped away, leaving only hollow frames behind.
Somewhere far off, cheers erupted.
They echoed strangely—too sharp, too distant—bouncing off ruined walls and empty space until they warped into something almost unrecognizable. It didn’t match what you were seeing. Didn’t match the still bodies scattered across the ground, limbs at unnatural angles, clothes torn and stained dark. Some looked like they had fought until their last breath. Others… looked like they had simply stopped existing.
The air was thick with it all—ash, smoke, something metallic that clung to the back of your throat. You could taste it every time you inhaled, feel it settling into your skin, into your hair, as if the castle itself refused to let you leave untouched.
A wave of relief brushed against you then, hesitant, like it wasn’t sure it belonged.
You made it.
You were still here.
But it didn’t bloom into anything full. No sobs of release, no collapse, no trembling laughter. It lingered at the edges instead, incomplete, waiting for something to anchor it.
Theo. You had to find him.
Nothing was over until you found him.
Only then could the world settle. Only then would the word safe mean anything again.
Your body moved before the thought fully formed, feet slipping slightly over loose stone as you pushed forward, faster, then faster still. Your breath came uneven, shallow from exhaustion, your lungs aching with every inhale, but you forced them to keep up. You had to.
Your legs felt heavy, each step dragging more than the last, muscles screaming from overuse, from everything they’d already endured—but stopping wasn’t an option. Not now. Not when you were so close to the end of it all.
People passed you in blurs—faces streaked with dirt and tears, some laughing, some crying, some just staring. You didn’t stop for them. Didn’t slow. You brushed past, barely aware of the contact, your entire body pulled forward by one thing only.
Find him.
Your heartbeat was loud—too loud—pounding in your ears, drowning out the distant voices, the shifting rubble, the crackle of something still burning somewhere far off.
You saw him.
Everything else fell away.
He was there, seated against what remained of a stone wall, debris scattered loosely around him as if it had settled that way on its own. Dust clung to his clothes, to his hair, softening his outline against the pale gray of the ruins.
For a second—just one—you froze.
Because suddenly, the silence didn’t feel suffocating anymore.
It felt… still—gentle, almost.
Like the world had quieted just for this moment.
Your lips parted, a fragile smile forming without your permission as your vision blurred, tears gathering too quickly to stop.
“Theo—”
His name came out uneven, catching in your throat, half-laugh, half-sob, and then you were moving again, rushing toward him with a kind of desperation that bordered on reckless. Stones shifted beneath your feet, but you didn’t feel it—you didn’t feel anything except the overwhelming need to reach him.
You dropped beside him, your knees hitting the ground harder than you noticed, your arms wrapping around him instantly, tightly, pulling him close like you were afraid he might disappear if you didn’t.
“You’re okay,” you breathed against him, the words spilling out in broken pieces as your chest shook. “You’re okay—you’re—Merlin—”
A sob caught, sharp and uncontrollable, as relief finally cracked through, your grip tightening.
“I was so worried…”
Your fingers found his hair without thinking, threading through it gently, instinctively smoothing it back, over and over, the motion grounding, familiar. You lingered there, careful, soft—just the way he liked. The way that always made him lean into your touch, even on the worst days.
Your hand slid to his cheek, cupping it, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin as you pulled back just enough to look at him.
There it was. That calmness—it softened his features, made him look untouched by the chaos around you. Like the war had passed over him instead of through him.
“It’s over,” you whispered, your voice quieter now, steadier, as if saying it gently would make it more real. You leaned forward, pressing a slow, tender kiss to his lips, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, grounding yourself in it.
When you pulled back, your forehead hovered close to his, your breath still uneven, but easing.
He didn’t speak.
But that was alright.
Of course it was.
Your lips curved into something softer, something reassuring, even as your chest still rose and fell too quickly.
“It’s alright,” you murmured, your thumb brushing his cheek again, slower this time. “You don’t have to say anything.”
You shifted, easing yourself down against the cold stone behind him, guiding him gently with you until he rested against your chest, your arms wrapping around him in a way that felt protective, certain—like this alone could keep everything together.
Your fingers slipped back into his hair, combing through it in slow, repetitive motions, untangling strands, smoothing them down, over and over again.
“I’ve got you,” you whispered into the crown of his head, your lips brushing against it in soft, absent kisses between words. “I’ve got you… we’re okay now.”
The words came easier the more you said them. Softer. Warmer.
Truer.
Around you, the castle remained in ruins. The air still carried the weight of everything that had been lost.
But here—right here, in this small, fragile pocket—you carved something else out of it.
Something safe.
“We’re alright, Theo,” you murmured again, your voice barely more than breath as your fingers continued their gentle rhythm through his hair. “We made it…”
And this time, you let the words settle.
You let them mean something.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that.
Time had unraveled somewhere along the way, threads snapping one by one until it became something shapeless, impossible to measure. The world beyond the small space you held together had faded into something distant and blurred, like it belonged to someone else entirely. The sky outside had dimmed—gray turning to something deeper, heavier—but you hadn’t seen it change. You hadn’t felt the hours pass. All you knew was the steady motion of your hand in his hair, the slow rhythm you refused to break, over and over, grounding yourself in something that felt constant.
Your legs had long since gone numb beneath you, a dull ache spreading upward into your hips, your back stiff from leaning against the unforgiving stone. But even that felt far away, secondary to the warmth you were trying so desperately to preserve. Your cheek rested lightly against the top of his head, your breaths quiet, measured—like if you kept them gentle enough, the moment would stay intact.
Around you, the castle whispered with distant movement.
Soft footsteps. Occasional murmurs. The faint scrape of rubble being shifted somewhere far off. Life—tentative, shaken—beginning to move again.
But none of it reached you. Not really.
Because here, in the fragile space between your arms, everything felt still.
“Y/N—Theo—?” The voice came from far away at first, thin and strained, as if dragged through exhaustion and fear before it ever reached you. It echoed unevenly through the broken corridors, catching on jagged stone and empty archways.
You didn’t answer, your fingers didn’t stop—if anything, they slowed, becoming softer, more deliberate—each movement careful, intentional, like you were afraid the slightest disruption might unravel him.
Footsteps followed—quick, uneven, slipping slightly against loose debris as they rushed toward you, breath growing louder, sharper, breaking in the silence like something desperate clawing its way through.
Mattheo appeared like a fracture in the stillness, his presence too loud for the fragile quiet you had built. His chest rose and fell rapidly, shoulders tense, eyes scanning frantically—until they landed on the two of you.
Relief hit him immediately, overwhelming, visible in the way his posture sagged, in the breath that tore out of him like he had been holding it for far too long.
“Bloody fucking hell—you guys—” he started, voice hoarse, breath uneven as he stepped closer, one hand dragging through his disheveled hair. “You scared me to—”
The words died. Not faded. Not trailed off.
They stopped. Abruptly. Completely.
Because his gaze shifted.
There was a quiet to Theo that didn’t match the rest of the world—a stillness too complete, too untouched by everything around him. Dust clung to his clothes, to the curve of his shoulder, settled lightly into his hair where your fingers had parted it again and again. His posture hadn’t changed since Mattheo first saw him, like time had skipped over him entirely.
Mattheo’s steps slowed without him realizing it.
Then stopped.
His mouth opened again, but whatever he meant to say dissolved somewhere between thought and breath. Only a faint, strangled exhale slipped past his lips, thin and uneven.
You glanced up at him then, offering a soft, apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Sorry,” you murmured gently, your voice quiet in the vast emptiness around you. “He’s still in shock. I didn’t want to force him to move.”
Your hand slid through Theo’s hair again, smoothing it back, fingertips tracing familiar paths, grounding yourself in the repetition. You tucked a loose strand behind his ear, your touch lingering there just a moment longer than necessary.
“He won’t talk to me,” you added, softer this time, your brows knitting slightly, though your tone remained patient—understanding. “Maybe you can help?”
The hope in your voice was so natural. So certain. It made something in Mattheo’s chest twist painfully.
He swallowed, the motion sharp, almost audible in the quiet.
Then he stepped closer. Each movement was slower now, deliberate, like he was approaching something fragile—something that might break if handled wrong. His boots scraped lightly against the stone as he crouched down beside you, the cold seeping through his clothes as his knee pressed into the ground.
He didn’t speak. He couldn’t speak.
His eyes flickered to you first—your tear-streaked cheeks, your faint smile, the way your hands never stopped moving, as if keeping Theo anchored through touch alone.
Then, carefully, they shifted to him.
Something flickered behind Mattheo’s gaze. Recognition. Fear. Denial. All tangled together so tightly it was impossible to separate one from the other.
Still—his hand lifted. It hovered for just a second, trembling almost imperceptibly, before settling gently against Theo’s neck. His fingers pressed there, cautious, as if too much pressure might disturb something delicate.
He waited. The silence stretched.
Nothing met his touch.
No warmth shifting beneath his fingertips.
No rhythm.
No sign of anything at all.
Mattheo’s breath caught sharply, a quiet, involuntary sound that seemed to echo too loudly in his own ears. His entire body tensed, shoulders locking, fingers going still where they rested against unmoving skin.
Your voice broke through it before the moment could deepen.
“He’s a bit cold, isn’t he?” You sounded thoughtful. Concerned in a distant, almost curious way—like you were noticing something small, something that could be explained away if you just thought about it long enough.
“I tried to get him to move,” you continued, your nose scrunching faintly as you sniffled, leaning down to press another soft kiss to the top of his head. Your lips lingered there, warm against his hair. “But he refuses.”
The tenderness in the gesture—It made Mattheo’s stomach twist violently. Bile surged up, sharp and bitter, burning at the back of his throat as he forced it down with effort, his jaw clenching so tightly it ached. His vision blurred for a second, just a second, before he blinked hard, dragging himself back into the moment.
For you.
“It’s—it’s alright,” he managed, though his voice came out uneven, each word catching slightly as he forced them past the tightness in his chest. “I—I’ll help him up, okay?”
He tried to make it sound casual.
Normal.
Like this was something simple.
Something fixable.
Like his best friend didn’t lie dead in his girlfriend’s hands.
But you shook your head almost immediately, your arms tightening around Theo just slightly, instinctively protective.
“No,” you said softly, your tone gentle but firm. “We have to give him time.”
Time. He doesn’t have any. Theo’s time ended.
Mattheo’s gaze dropped for a moment, his lashes lowering as he tried—desperately—to steady himself. His chest rose sharply, breath stuttering before he forced it into something quieter, something controlled.
“Y/N…” he started, your name breaking slightly as it left him, raw at the edges. “Let me help him.”
There was something different in his voice now.
Not insistence.
Not impatience.
Something closer to pleading.
His arms moved before he could stop himself, sliding carefully beneath Theo’s body—one supporting his back, the other beneath his legs. His hands trembled despite his effort to steady them, fingers tightening instinctively as he prepared to lift.
For a moment, you didn’t let go.
Your hand stilled in Theo’s hair, fingers curling slightly, holding on as if the contact alone was what kept everything together. Your other hand rested against his shoulder, thumb brushing absent patterns into the fabric of his clothes.
Then slowly—so slowly—you pulled back.
Your fingertips trailed over him as you withdrew, lingering, memorizing. The warmth. The shape. The feeling of him beneath your hands.
“He’s going to be alright… right?” Your voice was soft, hopeful. Certain in a way that made it impossible to meet your eyes without something inside Mattheo breaking completely.
You looked up at him then, your expression open, trusting, your lips curved into something faint but real, even as your face bore every mark of exhaustion, every trace of tears.
Theo’s weight shifted fully into Mattheo’s arms.
Heavier than expected.
Unresponsive in a way that made every muscle in his body tense under the strain—not from the weight itself, but from what it meant. From what it didn’t mean.
The warmth you had wrapped around him lingered faintly—but it was fading.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
Mattheo’s grip tightened just slightly, as if adjusting him, as if that small movement could change something—could undo something.
But nothing changed.
Nothing moved.
Nothing answered.
He couldn’t look at you.
Not with that question still hanging in the air between you.
Not with the way you were waiting.
His throat worked as he tried to speak, tried to form something—anything—that could hold you together a little longer.
But the words wouldn’t come.
And the silence that followed felt heavier than anything the war had left behind.