𐙚 briml

“i’m not just mad, rafe.” your voice cracks this time, and you hate that it does. “i’m tired of this shit.” that makes him pause for a second. but then he shakes his head like he’s rejecting it completely, like the idea itself pisses him off. “tired of what, huh?” he presses, leaning in closer. “me? or the fact you don’t get to control everything?”

you scoff, finally yanking one hand free, shoving against his chest. he barely moves. “this, this right here,” you gesture between you, frustration spilling over, “you don’t listen. you don’t care about what i want unless it lines up with what you want.” his eyes darken at that. “that’s not true.”

“it is,” you shoot back immediately. “i said we’re done.” his tongue drags across his bottom lip, like he’s holding himself back from saying something or doing something worse. “no,” it’s quieter this time. your brows pull together. “what do you mean no?” he lets out a breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly, like you’re the one not getting it. “i mean you don’t get to decide that on your own.” your stomach drops at how calm he suddenly sounds. “rafe-”

“you think you can just walk away from me?” he cuts in, voice low again, stepping closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “after everything? after you let it get this far?” your back hits the dresser fully now. “that’s not how this works.” your heart is pounding from anger and nerves. pounding from him being too close, like always.

“that’s exactly how it works,” you say, but it comes out less certain this time, and you mentally kick yourself because you know he’ll notice that, and exploit that. his gaze flickers to your lips for half a second before coming back to your eyes, a slow, almost satisfied exhale leaving him. “see?” he murmurs. “you don’t even sound sure.”

“i am sure,” you insist, but you don’t move away or don’t push him back this time. his hand comes up, slower now, less force, brushing against your jaw, not quite gentle, but not rough either. “then go,” he says quietly. but doesn’t move. he doesn't give you the space to breathe. just stands there. 

“go!” he repeats. “door’s right there.” but he still doesn’t step back from you, nor give you space to pass. that infuriates you even more. you shove his chest harder this time. “you’re so full of shit.” his head snaps slightly at that, brows pulling together. “excuse me?”

“you tell me to leave, but you’re standing right in front of me like you’re waiting for me not to,” your voice sharpens, frustration spilling over. “like always.” his jaw tightens. “because you don’t.” 

“that doesn’t mean i won’t this time.”

“yeah?” he steps closer again, like he can’t help himself. “you’ve said that before.” and that hits you in the chest, because you know he’s right. your grip tightens around your bag. “that’s exactly the problem, rafe. this-” you gesture between you, shaking your head, “this keeps happening.”

“because you keep coming back,” he shoots back immediately, like he’s been waiting to say it. you let out a breath, incredulous. “you think it’s just me?”

“don’t twist it,” he snaps. “you show up, and text me. you come into my room like nothing’s changed-”

“because you pull me back every time!” your voice raises now, breaking through his. “you don’t let anything end, you don’t let anything be done, you just-” you cut yourself off, frustration settling in, shaking your head. he watches you, chest rising, eyes locked on you like you’re something he’s trying to figure out and fight at the same time. “you act like you don’t want this,” he says, quieter now, but sharper. “like you’re so over it.”

“i should be,” you fire back. “we’re not even together, rafe. we haven’t been.” those few words hit him like a moving truck, making his expression shift. “yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath. “whose fault is that?” you blink watching as he can’t be vulnerable, having this hard tough guy act, but why with you?. “mine?”

“you’re the one who didn’t wanna make it official again,” he says, stepping back just enough to run a hand through his hair, pacing. “you’re the one who said ‘no labels,’ remember?”

“because of this!” you throw your hands up. “because we always end up right back here, arguing and yelling, you not listening-”

“i listen.” you laugh, short and bitter. “no, you don’t. you hear what you want, and then you do whatever the hell you were gonna do anyway.” his eyes flash at that. “that’s not fair.”

“neither is this,” you shoot back, softer now but no less intense. “you don’t get to keep me like this, rafe.” he stills completely. “like what?” his voice drops again. you hesitate saying it, but then you say it anyway. “like something you can pick up whenever you feel like it,” you swallow. “and put down when it gets too hard.”

his reaction is too immediate, “that’s not what this is.” he almost yells. “then what is it?” you challenge, stepping toward him now. “because we’re not together. we fight every other time we see each other. and yet-” your voice falters slightly, “i’m still here.”

his eyes soften for a split second at that, but it’s leaves just as fast. “yeah,” he says quietly. “you are.” your chest tightens. “that’s not a good thing.”

“maybe not,” he shrugs slightly, but there’s tension in it, something real under the surface. “but you’re still here anyway.” you shake your head, backing up a step now. “this is exactly why i didn’t wanna do this again.”

“do what?” he presses. “us.” your voice is barely controlled now. “whatever this is. the hooking up, the pretending it doesn’t mean anything when it clearly does,”

“then just stop pretending,” he cuts in, suddenly closer again. you freeze. his voice is lower now, more intense than before. “you think i don’t see it?” he says, eyes locked onto yours. “you think i don’t notice the way you look at me? the way you come back every time even after you swear you’re done?” your breath catches. “you’re not over it either.”

“that doesn’t mean this is good,” you whisper. he exhales, running a hand over his face, frustration bleeding through now. “i don’t care if it’s good,” he finally admits. “i just..” he stops himself, jaw tightening. you stare at him. “you just what?”

“i’m not letting you walk out like you don't care!.”

your heart breaks a little, because all you wanted was a sign that he wanted this as much as you did. and that’s what makes it worse. you swallow, gripping your bag tighter. “rafe…” you say, but you don’t move and he notices that again. his gaze drops to your lips for half a second before coming back up, something almost darkly satisfied settling in. “yeah,” he murmurs. “that’s what i thought.”

the shift in energy is almost instant. like all the softness meant nothing. one second the space is filled with heavy tension, but now it’s making a turn for the worst. you shake your head, backing up, voice tight. “this is pointless. you’re not even hearing m-”

“no, i hear you,” he cuts in sharply, something mean slipping into his tone now. “i just think it’s funny.” your brows pull together. “what’s funny?” he lets out a dry laugh, pacing once like he’s working himself up. “you standing here acting like you’re some victim in this.” your stomach drops slightly. “a victim? i’m not acting like anything-”

“yeah, you are,” he interrupts, harsher now. “like i’m the problem, like i’m the one keeping you here.” you stare at him. “you are part of the problem, rafe-”

“or maybe,” he cuts in again, voice sharper, colder, “you just like what comes with me.”

you feel like you just got slapped in the face, your hands start trembling of hurt, of anger, or that irritation voice on your shoulder telling you to yell back, to disrespect him like he just did you. “…what?” is all that manages to come out. he shrugs, but it’s defensive,  like he knows exactly what he’s doing and doesn’t care.

“the bags, the clothes, the shit i buy you,” he gestures vaguely toward your purse. the one he just got you, the one you were just shoving all your shit in, “all of it.”

“don’t..” your voice shakes slightly, “don’t do that.”

but he’s already too far in. “what?” he scoffs. “you gonna tell me you don’t like it? you don’t like showing it off?” his eyes drag over you, cruel now. “walking around like that, acting like it’s not mine?” those words hit you hard, like something physically just knocked the air out of you. “you think i’m with you for your fucking money?” your voice is loud and sharp, hurt bleeding through every word.

he doesn’t hesitate like he’s had this thought for ages, and it’s just now coming out. “i think it doesn’t hurt.” your vision blurs almost instantly, tears filling your eyes before you can stop them. you shake your head slowly, like you’re trying to process what he just said.

“wow.” he exhales, running a hand through his hair, but he doesn’t take it back, or try to fix it. “you really think that low of me?” you whisper. “you think i’m like every other kook bitch on the island who wants your money?” you ask louder, “you really think that’s why i’ve stayed, and had your back through everything? for purses and dinners?” you say letting out all your frustration. 

he doesn’t answer right away. and somehow, that’s even worse. your let out a laugh, shaky and disbelieving, tears slipping down your cheeks now. “i have never, not once, needed anything from you, rafe.” he looks at you, but there’s still that edge there, like he’s too deep in his own anger to pull himself out.

“then why are you still here?” he throws back. and that’s the final blow, your teared eyes widen in shock, not expecting him to say anything worse, but it just piles on. “because i loved you.”

his expression flickers, just for a second, but you don’t let him speak, don’t give him the chance. “because i wanted you,” your voice cracks, tears falling faster now. “not your money, not your stupid gifts, not any of that, just you.” he takes a step toward you. “y/n-”

“no,” you snap, backing away quickly, grabbing your keys off the dresser with shaking hands. you dump the purse of your things, throwing the bag at his chest.  “you don’t get to take it all back now” panic flashes across his face now, the anger leaving. “hey, hey, i didn’t mean-”

“yes, you did,” you cut him off, voice breaking. “you said it. you thought it.” you turn toward the door, wiping at your face but it does nothing, tears still streaming uncontrollably. “y/n, stop-” he moves after you. “don’t follow me!” you spin back for a second, voice shaking but loud. 

“baby, i’m sorry, please-” he begs, but you shove him back. you stare at him for a second longer, chest heaving, then shake your head. “fuck you, rafe cameron.” your voice cracks on his name. For the first time all night you can physically see his heart break, his eyes turning glossy, while his mouth is a gap, like he’s stuck between saying something, or letting out a sob. 

“leave me the fuck alone” and this time, you really walk out.

the door slams behind you, echoing through the house as you rush to your car, hands shaking so bad you can barely get the key in. tears blur your vision, falling faster, harder, your breath coming in uneven gasps as you finally start the engine.

“FUCK!” you hear him yell, but you don’t care, you put the car in drive and you don’t look back.

-

you can’t even count how many times you’ve ignored every text, every call. every text that said “im outside,” because he did try to see you, and speak to you. at first is was way too messy, only coming late at night in the form of drunk texts, always a string of texts with unreadable spelling mistakes, saying the same “i’m sorry baby”  “I love you so much”  “please you mean everything to me” and it hurt so much more because all you wanted to do was run back into his arms. 

but then you kept telling yourself no. that him saying sorry enough times wouldn’t undo what he said or how he acted. and it was like he realized it for himself as well, because the messages slowly decreased, and when they did, they were more honest, and less quick and poorly written, like “i know you don’t wanna hear from me, but I’m trying to give you space.”  “i fucked up. i know that.”   “not texting you again after this. just I’m so fucking sorry baby.”

and that was the last you heard from him for a few days, until those days turned into a week, then a week into two, and eventually it became a month and so on. it hurt too, because somehow, for once he finally actually listened, and of all the times he could’ve listened, why’d he choose this time?

-

you almost don’t go.

you stood in front of your mirror for ten minutes, staring at your reflection like you were trying to convince yourself this was just another night. “girl, staring at the mirror isn’t gonna do anything” your best friend says to you. “i don’t know if i wanna go honestly” you reply to her, and it’s partly true. “you just don’t want to run into him, but honestly fuck him, he can’t stop your life” she says, and you immediately know who she’s speaking about.

“no you’re right, and we look hot as fuck anyway” you say with a smile. “hell yeah we do!” she laughs with you. 

the air is warm when you arrive, the feeling of the start of summer. the waves silently crashing into the sane, while everyone is in conversation and the music is playing lightly in the background. you and your best friend grab a drink, saying hello to your other friends. 

you glance around like you’re trying to reassure yourself he’s not here when your eyes drift to the past the bonfire smoke, and there he is. 

rafe cameron, your ex boyfriend. 

standing a little forward down the beach, talking to someone, but not really. he looks different, his eyes are darker, like he’s been in his head, his shoulder relaxed like he doesn’t care anymore. you stare longer than you intended, when his eyes roam around, feeling the heat of behind stared at, when they fall on you. 

it feels like the whole party faded away, like the music just stopped, and the conversations ended. your heart nearly drops to your ass, while you almost forget how to breathe. he doesn’t look away, and neither do you. “shit,” you mutter under your breath. your friend glances at you. “what?”

“um, nothing,” you say quickly like you’re trying to cover it up, but it’s already too late. because he’s already making his way towards you both. his movements are careful, like he’s trying to make sure you don’t disappear, like it’s a fragile moment. your heart is pounding a thousand beats per second, you’re not sure how you haven’t fainted at this point. you force yourself not to leave to hear him out because honestly? you missed his voice. 

“hey,” he says when he finally reaches you. the moment is awkward and filled with nerves from you both. “hi.” you respond.  there’s a pause that stretches a little too long, both of you clearly trying to figure out how to exist in the same space again without everything blowing up.

“you look really good,” he says finally, like he’s just trying to start somewhere normal. you let out a small smile. “so do you.” he shifts his weight slightly, glancing down for half a second before looking back at you. “i wasn’t sure if you’d, talk to me, or if you’d just ignore me.” you raise a brow slightly. “you didn’t exactly give me a reason to run up and say hi.”

“yeah,” he nods, accepting that immediately. “that’s fair.” he pauses before continuing, “i’ve been wanting to talk to you.” your arms cross loosely, more out of grounding yourself than defensiveness. “you’ve took plenty of chances.”

“i know,” he says. “i just figured you didn’t wanna hear it anymore.” you tilt your head slightly, “and now?” he exhales. “now i think even if you don’t wanna hear it, you deserve to.” that softens your sassy exterior a bit.  “okay,” you say slowly. “then talk.” he runs a hand through his hair, like he’s organizing his thoughts in real time. “i meant what i said,” he starts. “about being sorry. not in a ‘i messed up, let’s move on’ kind of way. i mean, i actually get why you left.” your brows pull together slightly. “do you really though?”

“i do,” he nods. “because if you said that shit to me? i would’ve lost it too.” you let out a quiet, almost humorless laugh. “you did lose it.”

“i know,” he says quickly. “that’s what i’m saying. i was already off it and i still said worse.” your gaze hardens slightly. “you didn’t just say something ‘worse,’ rafe. you questioned why i was even with you.”

“i know.”

“you made it sound like i was using you.”

“i know,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “and i’ve been replaying that over and over in my head, wishing i could take it back.”

“well, you can’t,” you say, your voice sharper now.

“i know i can’t,” he says, stepping a little closer, but still not invading your space. “that’s why i’m not standing here asking you to forget it. i just, i needed you to know i didn’t mean it.” you shake your head slightly. “then why even say it?” he doesn’t answer immediately, and it makes you open up a space to truly heal from that comment, because for once, he’s not rushing to defend himself, actually thinking before he speaks. 

“i was so angry,” he says finally. “and i wanted to win the argument.” your jaw tightens, the angry of that night slowly rising. “so you said the one thing you knew would hurt me the most.”

“…yeah.” the honesty knocks the air out of your lungs more than any excuse would’ve. “you don’t even understand how deep that cut, rafe” you say quietly, your voice starting to shake despite your best effort.

“i do,” he says immediately.

“no, you don’t,” you shake your head, stepping back slightly. “because you didn’t have to walk away wondering if the person you loved ever actually respected you. you didn’t have to think about how i thought you just viewed me like all the other girls you dated. how the island looks at me like that. ” his face softens, like the guilt is eating at him, now that he can see and hear how bad he broke you with that small sentence. 

“i’ve never needed anything from you,” you continue, your voice breaking now. “not your money, not your gifts, not any of that. and the fact that you could even think that-”

“i didn’t think that,” he cuts in, more desperate and pleading now. “i don’t think that.”

“but you still said it,” you fire back. “and that means somewhere in your head, you believed that.” he exhales sharply, frustrated, but at himself. “you’re right,” he admits. “it did. for a second. and i grabbed onto it because i knew it would get to you.” you stare at him. “which makes it worse, i know” he adds, quieter now. “because i used it against you knowing it wasn’t true.”

“i’ve been around people like that my whole life,” he continues. “people who do want me for that. and instead of recognizing that you’re not like them, i threw it back in your face. i threw you in that same category just to hurt you.” you don’t even know what to say at this point. “yeah,” you whisper. “you did.”

“and i hate that i did,” he says. “i hate that that’s what you walked away with.” you laugh softly, shaking your head. “you didn’t just hurt my feelings, rafe. you messed with how i see things now.” his brows pull together. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” you swallow, “now every time someone does something nice for me, i’m wondering if they think i expect it. or if they think i’m taking advantage.” his face falls. “and that’s on me now,” you continue. “because you put that thought there.”

“i’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time. “not in a fix it way. just- i’m so fucking sorry i did that to you.” you look at him for a long moment. “and it’s not just that,” you add. “it’s everything. the fighting, the way we talk to each other when we’re mad, the way it always turns into something bigger than it needs to be.”

“i know.”

“i’m exhausted, rafe,” you admit, your voice softer now but heavier. “i don’t wanna keep doing this. i don’t wanna keep loving someone who makes me feel like i’m constantly fighting to be understood.” he nods slowly.

“i hear you,” he says. “i really do.” you tilt your head slightly. “do you? or are you just saying that because you think it’s what i wanna hear?”

“i’m saying it because i do get it,” he replies. “there’s a difference.” you cross your arms again, studying him. “okay. then explain it to me.” he takes a breath.

“i’ve been treating this like, as long as you don’t leave, it’s fine,” he says. “like the relationship is successful just because you’re still here.” your expression shifts slightly. “but that’s not the point,” he continues. “the point is making you wanna stay. and i haven’t been doing that.” you don’t interrupt, because he’s not wrong.

“i’ve been controlling, i haven’t listened, i’ve pushed you, pulled you back, pushed you again, and just assumed you’d always come back.”

“and when you didn’t,” he adds, quieter now, “that’s when it finally hit me.” the silence settles between you, and your heart hurts, because you’re realizing you weren’t the only one suffering these past few weeks. “i didn’t get over you,” you admit after a moment.

his eyes flicker a look of relief, like he was hoping you’d give him an indication, just a smidge of leeway back into your life. “i just stopped letting myself go back,” you continue. “because i knew if i did, nothing would change.”

“fair,” he says, but it’s not casual this time. his voice is lower, rougher around the edges, like he’s choosing his words instead of just throwing them at you.

“and i can’t do the old version of us again,” you tell him, holding your ground. “i won’t, rafe.”

he nods slowly, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours. you hesitate slightly at that. “then we don’t,” he adds, a little more firmly now. you let out a small breath, shaking your head. “it’s not that simple, and you know it’s not.”

“i do,” he says, stepping a little closer, but not too close, not pushing. “i know it’s not simple. i just, i know it’s that clear.” your brows pull together, studying him like you’re trying to catch the part where he slips back into old habits.

“you’re not gonna rush me?” you ask. he huffs a quiet breath, almost like the idea annoys him but not at you, at himself. “no. i’m not doing that again. i pushed you enough.”

“and you’re not gonna try to pull me back in the second i let my guard down?” his gaze flickers, something honest passing through it. “i’ve wanted to every day since you left,” he admits, voice dropping. “but no, i’m not gonna do that either.”

that makes you take a second, .

“you’re actually gonna listen to me?” he lets out a small, humorless laugh, running a hand over his jaw. “i should’ve been doing that the whole time,” he says. then softer, more serious, “ but yeah, course i am.” he says with that stupid smirk now. “and if it starts feeling like it used to?” you ask quietly.

he doesn’t answer right away, smirk fading, as he really deeply thinks about the answer. then he nods once, like he’s settling into something. “then you walk,” he says. “and i don’t chase you, or try to talk you out of it.” his jaw tightens slightly. “…even if it kills me.” you internally frown at that. “that’s not what you used to do.”

“i know,” he says immediately. “that’s the problem.” silence falls between you, heavier now but real. “i still care about you,” you admit, your voice quieter now. his head dips slightly, exhaling like that hits deeper than anything. “I was hoping you still would” he said with relief.

“and that’s what makes this hard.” he nods, eyes not leaving you. “same. i wouldn’t be standing here right now if it wasn’t.” you look away for a second, collecting yourself, then back at him. “this doesn’t just go back to normal,” you say. “there’s no jumping right back into whatever we were.”

“i don’t want that,” he says quickly. you blink, confused. “you don’t?” he shakes his head, stepping closer again, carefully. “no. because whatever we were? that’s what screwed it up in the first place.” his voice lowers. “i don’t want half of you. i don’t want the ‘when it’s convenient’ version.”

“so what do you want?” you ask. He steps into you space now, still not touching you, but he doesn’t hesitate with his words, like he’s so sure of it,  “i want a real shot,” he says, eyes steady on yours. “i want to do it right. no games. i want you, and i want it in a way that doesn’t end like this again.” your heart flutters. 

“and if it doesn’t work?” you ask, softer now.

“that’s not an option in my mind. It will work, because I want you more than anything.” he says so softly you barely know if you even heard it, and his words linger in your mind. the waves crash behind you, filling the silence you don’t know how to break, making you remember, you’re at a bonfire with actual people near you. 

you glance around, looking for your best friend. Her eyes are already on yours, looking for any indication that you need help, need her to rip rafe a new one, but you give her a nod that says “i’m good” and she takes it, taking a sip of her drink while looking back at the guy she’s speaking to. 

“you can try,” you say finally, glancing back at rafe. his eyes only waiting for an answer.  “yeah?” he asks quietly, like he doesn’t want to push it. “yeah,” you nod. “but slow. and if i feel like i’m losing myself in this again, i’m done. for real this time.”

“you won’t,” he says so surely. you give him a look. “you don’t know that.”

he reaches out to place his hand on yours, hesitating for a second, like he’s asking for permission, grabbing it with a small squeeze, reassuring you. “ i’ll make sure you don’t,” he corrects, “i’ll fix it before it gets there.” 

you feel a warmth creep up your arm at the contact, and you have to stop yourself for melting into it, but you body reacts before your brain can even process what you’re doing. your hand comes up first, fingers curling lightly into the front of his shirt, pulling him just a little closer.

his restraint snaps as instantly as yours, his hand slides to your waist, the other to your jaw, and when he leans down to kiss you, it’s everything you’ve both been holding back for weeks. weeks of missing each other, of him stopping himself from just showing up to your door, weeks of you having to force yourself to not think about him.

his grip tightens just slightly, pulling you closer like he’s making sure you’re real, like you’re not about to disappear on him again. when he finally pulls back, it’s barely an inch, his forehead resting against yours, breath uneven.

family lines taglist:

.✦ ݁˖ quick reads ass date hc gentle lover lay all your love fuckin in the bath* summer's afternoon* toxic bf hc sleepy boy guard dog couple nightmares lazy mornings carnival hc life with theo hc worm precious .✦ ݁˖ AUs fast and furious

It was currently Friday evening. The classic group of your brother's friends had been lounging in his dorm before you had challenged everyone, to who could create the best muggle fort. The room filled with tipsy laughter, everyone having passed around the fire whiskey Enzo and Blaise had sneaked in. The group was divided into two, with you being partnered with Blaise and Theo.

You had thought the three of you were doing well despite your disadvantage of one man down, Mattheo's absence due to another detention. But your optimism was dropping as you watched for the third time as the fort collapsed, with Blaise accusing Theo again of being a useless twat for misplacing the pegs.

Across from you, you eyed the way the others had worked, laughing as Daphne and Pansy practically ordered Draco and Enzo into working together well. Though you could see the firewhiskey in the boys' systems wasn’t helping, as they had started arguing about the best way to create the fort. You rolled your eyes, giggling at the stupidity of how the night had unfolded.

Taking another drink from the bottle, you clapped your hands and explained your game plan to your team, elucidating to them. “Right, you two idiots, I’m going to connect the fort together from the inside, while you two hold it together from the outside. Make sure you pass me a peg when I yell.” You eyed your brother, laughing slightly as he held his hands up defensively.

Mattheo made his way down the Slytherin dorm corridors, hearing the sounds of his friends vibrate off the walls. He shoved open the door, readily expecting the ruckus he was about to be greeted with a grin cracking. “Wassup fuck-”, his mouth dropped, brows raising as he takes in the current commotion happening in the crowded room.

His eyes are first drawn to the loud bickering occurring between Theo and Blaise. “How long have you been putting pegs on me!? That’s bloody why we can’t find any more!” Blaise complains, reaching around his back to take them off his shirt. Theo struggles to steady himself against the wall as he hurls over, cracking up, gripping his stomach, deep laughter exploding from him. Mattheo’s brows remained raised, watching in amusement as Blaise struggled, spinning around himself like a dog to pry off the pegs.

Mattheo’s gaze shifts as he steps further into the room, dropping his bag on the floor, the sounds of Draco complaining in the mirror. His hands moving in an aggressive action, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles he created during the fort building. Daphne sits beside him, filming his displeasure with her own enjoyment. Mattheo rolls his eyes at his cousin, losing his tie, as his attention is swept once again. This time by Pansy and Enzo, who seem to have moved on after the success of their fort by now throwing lollies into one another’s mouth.

He spins around again, his curiosity peaks as he wonders where the last member of the group is. His heart drops at the thought of you being absent from the night, the expectation of seeing you having pushed him through his boredom in detention. His curiosity is cured when the faint sound of your voice is heard calling out from inside your fort. “Would you two stop bickering and cooperate! I need another peg. I'm literally holding this thing together from the inside!” 

Mattheo chuckles deeply, being the only one to hear you over all the commotion. He takes a peg off Blaise’s back, bending down to pop his head into the fort. He grins at the awkward position you seemed to have put yourself in, finding it amusing and also stupid that you left the two most difficult sheets to be pegged together last. His eyes drift down your figure, taking in the cute loungewear set you had on as you puffed a piece of hair out of your face, sighing irritably.

He knows he should just hand you the peg, but his impulsive thoughts and the fact that you two were actually alone for once made him act. As he leans over your shoulder, reaching forward to peg the two sheets together, making the fort stabilize. Your body shivers slightly as his body retracts back, his curls brushing against your cheek, causing your body to warm up.

You let go of the sheets, turning now to face him, unaware of how close he still is to you. You hadn’t even heard him come in, leaving you unprepared for his now close presence. He shifts back, allowing reasonable space between you two, and you let out a small sigh out, brushing it off as just an act of kindness, nothing more than platonic. You smile casually, “Oh, glad you could finally join us. What was the detention for this time, Riddle?” You tilt your head slightly, teasing him.

His mouth pulls in a half smile before he rolls his eyes at your taunt, “This one wasn’t actually my fault, the guy was just asking for it. Fucking first years.” He scrunches his face in fake annoyance, watching you laugh at his grumble.

His eyes meet yours for a moment, taking in the way your face is lit up before he shifts his attention to the fort. He was quite surprised with the fact it was actually staying up considering how intoxicated the others actually seemed. “Let me guess, this was your idea Ace.”

You let out a light laugh, averting your eyes to the interior of the fort. Praying your cheeks were keeping their composure, feeling the rush of heat hit them at the nickname. You’d always had a soft spot for the nickname, though you doubted it was only being used in a friendly manner. Nodding your head to his question, your eyes still gazing at the roof of the fort, feeling something was missing. “Yeah, I thought it would be a fun competition. Not too late for you to help out though. I still wanna hang some fairy lights so we can see. Can you grab them for me?”

Mattheo nodded, lazily leaning only his upper body out the fort entrance, posing himself in a way that gave you a good view of his ass. Unsure if he had done it on purpose or not, you tried not to stare too long, but the way it curved nicely in his pants was making your mind run wild. As Mattheo stuck his head out the entrance, spotting the others in a discussion, catching the end of their conversation about sneaking into the kitchens. “Oi, grab me a pack of MnMs,” he calls out to them, as they head out the dorm door.

He spots the fairy lights reaching out his outstretched hand, grabbing them before retracting back into the fort. He twisted around, noticing the way your eyes darted around before meeting his gaze. His chest thumps at the realization that the two of you are alone, chuckling to himself that your brother must be too far gone to have noticed. He passes the tangled lights to you with a sly grin. “What did you do with these last? Tie someone up with them?”

You roll your eyes at his joke, your cheeks definitely blushing now, moving closer to grab a fistful of lights, slowly untangling them, “Ha ha”. Not bothering to actually reply more than that, the two of you work in a somewhat comfortable silence despite your heart practically pumping out of your chest. His hands work skillfully, untangling the knots down the string. He was clearly good with his fingers. You bit your lip as your mind started wandering off as lewd thoughts swarmed through it. Merlin, what would your brother think, if he knew the ideas Mattheo was unawarely filling yours with.

You spun around feeling your body relax now that you were no longer in his direct eyesight, as you squatted to peg the lights up around the fort. The sound of your friends returning allowed a breath to be exhaled, one you didn’t know you were holding. The temptation of just being alone with Mattheo was proving to be difficult.

You grinned, beaming at the finished success of the fort, the lights twinkled giving off a cozy and relaxed ambiance. Mattheo’s felt himself crack a grin at the appearance of your happiness. He’d never get over the way it made him feel as if sunshine was being shone brightly inside him. He patted your thigh gently, “Looks good Ace.”

Before you can react to his touch, the others burst through, chucking pillows and blankets in a multitude of places as they all arrange themselves. You move out of the way watching as Pansy sets up a projector for you all to watch a film.

As the movie started, you rotated quickly to find a spot, coincidently noticing only one left beside Mattheo. He had made sure not to make you uncomfortable, leaving enough space between you both, as you squeezed in beside him, laying on your stomach. Laying side by side, your shoulder grazing him as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt.

Throughout the movie, you couldn’t stop fiddling, slipping your thumb in and out of the makeshift hole you had made. Mattheo lay his hands out in front of him, his eyes drawn to the movement of your fingers fidgeting. He played with his own thumbs trying to focus on the screen, the urge to reach out and embrace your own hand in his.

Though with you distracted, he inched closer to you as stealthily as possible, as to not scare you away or draw any attention to himself. His eyes moved to check out for Theo, who was deeply engrossed in the movie, probably having taken an edible. His eyes moving back up to yours, as you offered him some MnMs, graciously accepting. 

Moving to put the chocolates back in the middle, you used the moment to peer at him, noticing him distracted by the movie. You were trying to act as normal as possible, feeling the way his heat flowed onto yours from the closeness of your bodies. The illumination of the lights were cast upon him, allowing you to make out his appearance under the soft glow of the fort.

Taking in the pretty colour of his mahogany eyes and the sweet shape of his rosy lips as he licked the chocolate off them. You couldn’t help but imagine what they’d be like to kiss. You had thought you were doing a good job of being discreet when Mattheo leans into you to whisper, “You're staring Ace.” His voice was quiet enough as to not capture the attention of the others.

You froze momentarily, your heart beating, not realising how close he was to your face. Before you whispered back, “You’ve got chocolate on your face.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you pray, your response was quick and clever enough to cover up that fact that you had been caught. You kept your eyes glued to his, trying to give off the appeal that you were being serious.

His face spreads into a cheeky grin, whispering back. “Sure, it’s not because you’re in love with me.” He had said it as a joke but realised as he watched your eyes widen that his whispering may have made it come across differently. His own brows scrunched in realisation as he makes out through the dim lights, a faint tint of redness creeping up your cheeks.

You averted your eyes back to the TV, your heart hammering as you repeated his words over in your head. You were panicking, your eyes darting over to your brother. If anyone else heard and saw your reaction, you totally would have given away your feelings for him. You chewed on your lip before you cursed at yourself, for now realizing by not replying you were making the situation look worse. You look back at him, the small amount of firewhiskey flowing through you. “That’s very cocky of you to assume, Riddle”.

Your initial reaction to his comment gave him the confidence to nudge your shoulder slightly. “Am I wrong though?” he challenged, keeping his voice low. Though he didn’t get to hear your response as Pansy shushed the two of you, making you both look away from one another.

You could hardly concentrate on the rest of the movie after the latest turn of events. Your brain was working on overdrive to calm your anxiety. Of course he’d be the one to make your brain melt, turning you back into your fourteen old-self reminding you of when you first met him. He must think you’re insane. He’s probably laughing it up that Theo’s sister is in love with him. You felt trapped, wanting to escape, feeling like a joke. Caught up in your own panicked nightmare, the soft feeling of fingers pulls your attention, brushing against your hand.

Mattheo had rolled his eyes at Pansy, shushing them, watching the way you averted your eyes from him. His mind was buzzing at the possibility of you actually being into him. He pinched himself, harder than he expected flicking his hand in pain before resting it beside yours. In the fort's darkness, he took the impulsive decision to rest his fingertips against yours. He made the action gentle, not wanting you to react badly.

His pinky brushed against yours, and his heartbeat quickened when he felt the sudden movement of your reciprocation. He glanced up at the others, noticing no one paying any mind to the two of you, moving his gaze back to you. A small smile rested on your lips, though your eyes were glued to the movie. He couldn’t help but risk taking it further and slid his fingers into yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. 

Mattheo’s mind filled with only thoughts of you as he blankly stared at the projector. Your hand in his felt like the most natural thing, and he couldn’t believe the way he was feeling. How could such a small action reduce him to feeling like a giddy schoolboy. He couldn’t remember the last time he held someone's hand. As the movie progressed, the two of you didn’t break contact, fingers staying intertwined.

You finally turned to look at him, your eyes studying his sweet brown eyes. It was a quiet moment, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. They knew they were crossing a line, treading into dangerous territories if Theo ever found out. But the emotions shining in Mattheo’s eyes, a sly smirk playing on his lips, inflamed a desire that you knew was too good to ignore.

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“Watch it dolcezza,” a familiar voice slurs over the rain, condescension dripping from his words.

Despite your better judgement, you turn to find yourself facing none other than Theodore fucking Nott, broom in hand, and signature cocky smirk pasted across his face. God you hated that boy.

“Call me sweet again you pompous git,” you snap, glaring up at the Slytherin.

“Why waste my breath on you?” He retorts, matching your steely gaze, his lip curling up in a sneer.

You had never gotten along with Theodore. It was no secret among your classmates that the two of you hated each other. Despite being in many of the same NEWT level courses, sharing a love for quidditch, and both of you basically residing in the Hogwarts library, you simply could not tolerate one another’s presence.

It was strange perhaps, you’d done the analyzation yourself. By all accounts you two should probably be friends. But no amount of similarities or shared interests could make up for the fact that Theodore Nott was an insufferable, arrogant arse who only cared about maintaining his perfectly curated reputation.

"You're right Theodore, save a tree a bit of work why don't you. Rowena knows that tree is doing more for the world than you are," you reply coldly.

Theo opens his mouth to respond, but for maybe the first time ever, you see the boy falter, if only for a split second, before he's back to his usual stoic self. He scoffs.

"Just forget it, you're not worth it," he mutters under his breath, rolling those pretty blue eyes as he turns to go.

You shake your head at the boy, scoffing yourself.

"Yeah, do your best to forget me Nott, because I won't hesitate to forget you."

"Don't be mad."

"Just hear us out."

Oh dear god. As soon as you hear the combined voices of Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire, you know that you're about to be in for a ride. You look cautiously up at the pair from your seat in the library, on edge because wherever these two were, Theodore was sure to be nearby.

"He's not here if that's what you're worried about," Lorenzo offers with a nervous smile.

It's the kind of smile you would offer a skittish cat that you've cornered in hopes it doesn't bolt, and you had an unfortunate feeling that you were the cat in this scenario. Still you feel your shoulders relax a bit as the two carefully sit down at the table across from you.

"So uh. We heard about your, ah, little tiff, with Theo today," Lorenzo starts out awkwardly, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the castle at this moment.

"Bloody tosser never shuts up about you," Mattheo mutters so quietly you almost miss it.

You raise in eyebrow at the two boys in front of you, waiting for them to get to the point as Lorenzo gives Mattheo a sharp jab to the ribcage.

"Anyway," Lorenzo continues a bit too loudly, "There was a bit of an incident at the quidditch match today."

"Yeah, Slytherin lost. Again. I heard," you cut in, trying to wrap this up.

"Okay, ouch," Mattheo mutters once more, earning a glare from both you and Lorenzo.

"Did you also happen to hear that Theo was knocked of his broom?" Lorenzo asks.

Oh shit. As much as you couldn't stand Theodore, it's not as if you wanted the boy to get hurt. And you knew from personal experience, any quidditch injury should be taken rather seriously. But then, why were Theodore's two best friends sitting here in the library with you and not in the hospital wing with him?

You narrow your eyes at the boys across from you.

"So what does this all have to do with me? Nothing good could possibly come of you two starting the conversation with 'don't be mad' and 'just hear us out'."

Lorenzo fidgets nervously, shifting in his seat and Mattheo refuses to make eye contact with you. You truly had never seen the ever stone cold Slytherin boys look so wildly uncomfortable before.

"He got knocked out and when he woke up he was convinced the two of you are madly in love," Lorenzo rushes out, flinching back as if waiting for you to yell at him.

"And now the smitten tosser is requesting the presence of his beloved. He's really torn up about it too," Mattheo adds looking the most serious he’d been, probably ever.

But you were having none of it.

"Alright, hahaha, you almost had me there, you two actually sounded pretty sincere for a bit, but seriously it's not funny anymore. There's simply no reality where Theodore is in love with me, that's disgusting and I'm not stupid."

Mattheo and Lorenzo glance at each other with knowing looks before sighing in unison.

"On Salazar's good name, we are not lying or joking about this," Mattheo says solemly.

"And we didn't want to involve you in this whole thing anyway. We know about how well you and Theo get along. It's just that Madam Pomfrey is concerned that, until she's able to brew something to get Theo's head back on right, any world crushing stress or shock might have lasting, long-term psychological effects or what have you," Lorenzo finishes, emphasizing his last point rather strongly.

You continue to stare at the two boys in front of you as if their heads had been replaced by hippogriffs, slowly understanding what they were asking of you.

“Oh absolutely not. There’s literally no way. I’m not going up there.”

You hated the smell of the hospital wing. It was far too... sterile. Unnervingly so. The last hour of your life had been a blur and frankly you still weren't entirely sure how Lorenzo and Mattheo had managed to wrangle you all the way up to the hospital wing, but here you were.

As you make your way to the large double doors that lead into the infirmary, you send one last pointed glare to the pair of Slytherins behind you before turning, steeling yourself as you prepare for the worst.

The first thing you notice when you enter the brightly lit room is how strangely peaceful it is. As you quietly approach the rows of narrow hospital beds, the second thing you notice is how normal Theodore looks lying there asleep. There's no snarling lips, raised eyebrows, or biting words, it's just Theo. Tilting your head a bit, you're able to really admire the boy for the first time, not worrying about what insult he's going to throw at you next. He actually was rather attractive, you could see why so many of your classmates practically threw themselves at his feet. Maybe you would too if he weren't such an insufferable prat.

Just as you’re about to finally feel a bit more at ease, Theodore has to go and ruin it, because of course he does, by shifting a bit in his bed, eyes fluttering before settling softly on you.

“Morning dolcezza, finally come to see me hm?” he asks, lips curling up into a sickeningly sweet smile. You can see the adoration in his eyes as he looks up at you.

It should’ve been a sweet moment. Something straight out of a romance movie perhaps, but all you could hear was the way he had snarled ‘dolcezza’ at you earlier that day. Nothing but hatred and malice on his face. Not, this. Whatever it was.

“Please don’t call me that,” you blurt out, your body subconsciously stiffening, ready for whatever Theodore was about to throw back at you.

Instead though, he looks hurt. A frown flickers across his face making him look like a kicked puppy and you instantly feel a wave of guilt crash over you.

What the hell had happened out on that quidditch pitch.

Before the situation could get any more uncomfortable than it already was, Madame Pomfrey saves the day as she comes whisking into the hospital wing to check up on her charge.

“Hello dearie, you must be the one Mr. Nott has been going on about all evening,” she says with a knowing glance as she gives Theodore a quick inspection. “Now it’s been my understanding that Mr. Nott hasn’t quite been, well, himself since he woke up. Unfortunately, the specific brew that’s needed for these kinds of things takes a full moon cycle to whip up. Until then...”

You stare at the witch in horror. The idea of being stuck with Theodore for the next month made you want to vomit.

“I feel fine,” Theodore protests, shoving himself into a sitting position and reaching out to clasp onto your hand.

It takes everything in you to not recoil away and you shoot a look at Madam Pomfrey, hoping she’d speak some reason into the boy.

“Well, if you’re sure,” she says instead, “Mr. Nott is clear to go, but do come back if you start feeling dizzy again, I simply won’t have another student fainting in the corridors.”

With that, she ushers Theodore up and out of bed before shooing the both of you out of the hospital wing.

Once the metal doors clang shut behind you, you feel Theodore reach out, grabbing your hand once more.

“Let me walk you to your common room then?” He asks, giving your hand a light squeeze, already tugging you in the direction of Ravenclaw tower.

Resistance seemed futile at this point, so you let the boy drag you along doing your best to avoid conversation and eye contact. You receive several very bewildered stares as you pass your classmates in the hallway, but thankfully no one says anything. Not to your face anyway.

When you finally arrive at your common room door, even the golden eagle mounted to the door looks baffled by your choice of Slytherin companion.

Before you can pull away, Theo presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and you jerk away from him.

“Um, I’ll see you tomorrow carissima,” he murmurs, eyebrows furrowed a bit before he turns and disappears down the corridor.

The first week with Theodore glued to your side is, for lack of better words, literal hell. The next morning on your way down to the great hall for breakfast you simply want to melt into the floor in horror when you find Theodore waiting outside your common room door, garnering a good number of whispers and stares from your fellow housemates.

He takes hold of your hand once again and you begrudgingly follow, silently cursing the brunette boy and the rest of his bloodline.

“Have you finished the charms essay Flitwick assigned last week?” Theodore asks as you stroll through the corridor.

You want to burst out laughing at how comically mundane the question was given the absurdity of the whole situation, but you do your best to keep it together.

“Not quite, just have to wrap up the last few lines I think,” you reply, trying to keep it short.

“We can finish up in the library together tonight then,” Theodore decides.

You open your mouth to protest, but close it just as fast. If you were going to be stuck with this tosser, you might as well extort him you think begrudgingly to yourself.

You can feel several pairs of eyes on you as you sit down next to Theodore at the Slytherin table. Your blue robes stick out like a sore thumb making you rather self conscious. Still, his friends all greet you as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to have you sitting with them and you feel like you’ve entered the twilight zone.

As the rest of the week goes by, it’s all more of the same. Trying to hold back a grimace every time Theodore takes your hand or kisses your forehead good night, pretending you weren’t completely weirded out by the way his friends had so easily adapted you into their little group, ignoring the whispers and side eyes from other students.

Objectively speaking, this could be much worse. Theodore was actually rather tolerable to be around when you weren’t throwing insults back and forth. The real issue was that every time you thought to yourself that Theodore Nott might not be all bad, you’d get a sudden flashback of him and his friends picking on some innocent first or second year, or playing a particularly foul game of quidditch, or the time they’d hexed poor Hermione Granger’s teeth to keep on growing like a beaver's and you’d feel sick to your stomach.

You really didn’t think your hatred for Theodore was all that misplaced. When it came down to it, he and his friends could be down right bullies and you loathed the way they acted as if they were above others. Even now when it came down to it, your whole part in this little cooked up scheme was to protect Theodore’s ego.

It's in the second week that your perception on things begins to crack. You'd been spending a lot of time with Theodore and his friends and, you didn't really know what you had expected, but, it wasn't this.

It was the first time you'd ever been in the Slytherin common room. All dark and cold and dreary. Nothing like Ravenclaw tower, but they were on two opposite ends of the spectrum you supposed. You were sat next to Theodore, buried in your book, one that he had given you, and trying to ignore everything going on around you when a group of first year Slytherins come stumbling into the dungeons, huddled around a young boy who's skin was an alarming shade of electric purple.

You're not prepared for the way the students around you jump into action. Daphne Greengrass is by the boy's side in moments, wiping tears from his cheek as Lorenzo and Pansy interrogate some of the other's as to what had happened.

It had been some second year Gryffindors, one girl said her lower lip trembling. Apparently they had gotten their hands on some of the Weasley twins' underground candies and tricked the poor boy into eating a few.

You watch silently as Draco and Blaise examine the boy before ushering him off to their dormitory, confidently telling him a cure would be easy enough to brew.

In all the commotion, you don't notice Mattheo and Marcus Flint sneaking off to go find a certain group of young lions. But Theodore does.

"Better go make sure they don't take things too far," he sighs, rising from his place next to you and giving your hand a squeeze before following the other boys out of the dungeon. You don't even have time to protest.

You're about to just return to your common room and call it a night when Daphne finds her way over to you, having calmed down most of the shaken up first years, and sits down next to you.

"Sorry you had to see all that," she sighs looking tired and worn down.

"I didn't realize you all were so close," you state, gesturing to some of the older students who had seemingly taken some of the younger ones under their wing now.

"We have to be. If we aren't on our own side, who else will be?" she replies.

When she's met with silence she gives you a tight lipped smile before turning, ready to go.

"So when Theodore and Mattheo get into fights, is it always because—?" You let your words trail off, not really sure where you were taking this and Daphne turns to face you once more.

"Honestly? No. Sometimes they can just be massive pricks. They usually make up for it though." Daphne says as you nod your head in response. "We really do appreciate what you're doing for Theo," she says, switching topics. "I know you don't exactly see eye to eye, and honestly I can't blame you. I know how the boys can be. But between you and me, I've always suspected that he actually liked you, at least a little bit. Maybe this knock to the head got him to finally come to his senses," she laughs.

"I don't know about that. I'm pretty certain once Madam Pomfrey whips up that potion, he'll be right back where we left off," you reply, adding in your own nervous laughter.

"You're only saying that because you don't know what he was really like before. You don't have to believe me, but if you really gave him a chance- you never know."

"Maybe, but I'm pretty sure about this."

Daphne shrugs her shoulders.

"Suit yourself, but um, if you wouldn't mind, maybe don't go spreading this whole incident around the school? We try to keep these kinds of things, discreet. Don't want the other houses to see us sweat and all."

You take a good look at the girl beside you and then at the room full of Slytherin students around you, realizing for the first time that it really did seem as if they had the whole school against them.

"No, of course not. I didn't see a thing," you tell her.

Daphne gives you a grateful smile as she rises to leave.

"He'll be back in a bit. Probably be glad to see you still here," she says before disappearing to her own dormitory.

It's not long before Theodore finally returns, his face lighting up when he spots you still tucked cozily away in your corner, nose buried in the pages of your book.

Theo was very confused to say the least. It had been almost three weeks since he'd been knocked off his broom in that match against the Gryffindors, and things just felt, off. Truth be told, he couldn't really seem to remember much of anything since before the fall. Not clearly at least. It was all fuzzy shadows and warped conversation, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of it all.

The only thing he was really certain about, was you. He remembered dreaming about you while he was asleep in the hospital wing, and how angry you had been that day before his match, though he couldn't quite place why. He had worried that that was why you weren't there when he woke up, maybe you were mad at him.

But then the next time he opened his eyes you were there, gazing down at him, and everything had just felt right. Your hand had slotted perfectly with his and he was sure that, out of everyone, you were the person he could trust the most.

So why did you look like you were in pain every time he approached? Why did you flinch away whenever his lips brushed the top of your head? Why did it feel as if you were holding him at an arms length?

All this swirled around in Theo's mind as he sat on the library sofa next to you, watching the warm glow of the fireplace dance across your face.

"Have I done something to make you upset carissima?" Theo asks, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop them.

You look up at him, startled by the abrupt question as you snap your book shut.

"No, why do you ask?"

Theo watches you turn your body to face him now, tilting your head as he furrows his eyebrows, trying to put the words together.

"I just, remember things being different, I think," he replies, hating how his brain wasn't letting him form cohesive thoughts.

"Oh?" You look surprised at his statement, eyes darting away from him and Theo can tell he's onto something.

"Was it before the match? Before I fell? Were we fighting about something carissima?" He asks again.

It's obvious you're thinking hard about what to say as Theo reaches out to take your hands in his. For once you don't flinch away from his touch, instead just staring at your intertwined fingers.

"It was something like that," you mumble as Theo rubs careful circles around your knuckles.

“I don’t think I remember a lot very clearly. It’s frustrating sometimes,” Theo admits. “But I remember you.”

“Yeah? What do you remember about me?”

“I remember how you always say hello to the painting outside of the charms classroom. And how you like to sneak snacks into astronomy. I remember the time in third year when we were flying on the quidditch pitch and you were about to get hit by a bludger so I had to move you out of the way.”

You blink at the last memory Theodore shares. You knew what he was talking about, but that’s not how you remembered it. You had been flying yes, when Theodore had come out of nowhere, shoving you while in the sky and then turning, laughing while calling you an idiot. You’d never even seen the bludger.

“I remember kissing you under the bleachers, and holding you by the fireplace. I remember you telling me you loved me.”

And that's where he lost you. Those memories, you didn't know where they came from, but for Theo, they were real. And who knew he was such a sap? You'd never thought the boy was even capable of having emotions.

"Can we start over? I don't remember why you were upset. But I'm sorry. I just want what little memory I have to go back to normal."

Theo watches as you let out a deep sigh. Every word out of Theodore’s mouth was like a punch to the gut, absolutely devastating any sort of resolve you had still been holding.

“Sure Theodore.”

“Just Theo,” he corrects as he pulls you into his arms, tucking your head snuggly under his chin.

The last week you have with Theo, or at least with this version of him, you spend trying not to get too attached. You'd grown rather used to having the boy appear by your side to carry your books or to sneak snacks into the library for you when you'd spent the last several hours putting the final touches on your ancient runes essay. You didn't even mind having to constantly tell him and Mattheo to quiet down anymore.

As it turned out, Daphne had been right about one thing. Theodore and his friends could absolutely be obnoxious, arrogant, pompous pricks, but they did have their ways of charming their way back into your favor. The little parasites. They'd grown on you.

You knew that Madam Pomfrey had finished brewing the elixir before Mattheo could open his mouth just by the guilty expressions on his and Lorenzo's faces when they walked into the Slytherin common room. You'd been frequenting the dungeons a lot more recently, but it looked like that was about to come to an end.

"It's ready then?" you ask, tucking your book away as your hand falls to rest on Theo's arm.

Mattheo just nods his head as you all turn to look at Theo who's still focused on his own book.

"Hey. Madam Pomfrey says she wants to give you one last check. Just to make sure your head is on straight," Mattheo says, thumping Theo on the shoulder.

"Why? I feel fine," Theo replies, an air of annoyance laced in his voice as he's torn away from his book.

"Don't know mate. Just humor the old bat," Enzo sighs.

Theo rolls his eyes before reluctantly rising from the couch, offering you a hand up as well.

"Coming along carissima?" he asks, already reaching out for your hand, but you dodge away.

"I think I'm going to head back up to Ravenclaw tower actually. It's getting pretty late," you reply, feigning a small yawn.

As you exit the dungeons, Enzo catches you by the arm.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with? We don't know for sure that he'll, ya know, go back."

"It's fine Lorenzo. I just- I really can't be up there. We all knew this wasn't a real, permanent thing. I just want to finish my book," you reply, backing away. "I hope Theodore feels more himself, I guess."

You can see Lorenzo's face visibly shift as you revert back to Theodore's full name, his whole demeanor stiffening.

"Right well. Have a night y/n."

And then he's gone.

When you finally make it all the way back to your tower, you collapse onto one of the sofas overlooking the castle grounds, eager to distract yourself by diving back into you book.

"Just come back from the dungeons?" the voice of Marietta Edgecombe asks, dragging your attention away from your novel.

You nod your head, hoping your short answer would encourage the girl to move on quickly.

"I called that one so early on. I've been telling Cho for years, those two are going to end up together, I just know it. And I was right!" she says gleefully, giving your shoulder a little squeeze before flouncing off.

“You came,” Theodore’s voice rings out from his spot on one of the stone benches that lined the walls of the astronomy tower.

“I did,” you reply carefully, watching as he leans back inviting you forward.

It had been almost two weeks since the antidote had been brewed and Theodore looked like he hadn’t slept at all in that time frame. You’d spent that time avoiding him, and all the Slytherins really.

You were confused and you hadn't known what to expect when Theodore came back down from the hospital wing. It had been a strange past month, and now you weren't sure where it left the two of you. What did he remember? Did he care?

You take slow steps forward, Theodore’s eyes never leaving yours until you’re standing directly in front of him. He continues to just stare at you, the silence becoming deafening.

“What do you want, Theodore?” You ask finally, growing frustrated as you let out an agitated sigh.

“Just to talk, dolcezza,” he replies lazily, patting the spot on the bench beside him.

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, rolling your eyes but taking a seat anyway.

“Don’t call me Theodore,” he shoots back.

You feel your eyebrows raise.

“So you remember then?” You ask.

“I remember. Everything from the past month. And before.”

There’s another pause, less uncomfortable this time though as you both consider his words.

“So why am I here Theo?”

“Cause I can’t keep you out of my head mostly,” he replies, rather resigned to the fact.

“Have you tried?”

Theo gives you an exasperated look.

“Obviously. If I could, I’d just loose feelings for you, but it’s not exactly easy to fall out of love with someone you’ve been holding onto for so long. What do you think I’ve been doing for the last two weeks?” He grumbles stubbornly.

"What do you mean 'holding onto for so long'?" you ask, giving the boy a puzzled look. You'd hardly call a month a long time.

Theo just looks at you again as if silently willing you to simply read his mind. Unfortunately for him, that's not how osmosis works. With another long, drawn out sigh, Theo rests his elbows on his knees letting his head fall into his hands as he mumbles incoherently into his palms.

"Huh?"

He mumbles something again, louder this time. You squint at the boy, trying to make something out.

"If you're trying to confess your undying love for me, you're doing an awful job," you tell him.

This gets Theo to glare up at you, a pout almost visible on his lips. Oh how the mighty fall.

"I've liked you for years," he mutters, his chin resting in his palms now as he refuses to look at you. Pride really was a strange thing.

"Well, you've been truly terrible at showing it, you insufferable prat," you say, giving his shoulder a light shove.

Theo just let's out a grunt, watching your hand on the bench next to him from the corner of his eye. Dear Rowena, you had no idea how you'd ended up falling for this prick.

"But, I suppose you've been, significantly less insufferable this last month or so," you finish, carefully resting your head on his shoulder.

"If you're trying to say you like me too, you're doing an awful job," Theo responds, causing you to immediately tear yourself away from the boy once more.

A smile finally cracks Theo's lips as he smirks playfully up at your deadpan reaction.

"I take it back. I actually hate you. You are the worst."

"Aw, come on now carissima, did the last month mean nothing to you?" Theo asks, pulling you back into him, the same way he did that one night in the library.

"It meant literally nothing. You were being weirdly nice and clingy the whole time," you reply, begrudgingly feeling yourself melt into him.

It wasn't your fault you'd been going through withdrawals the last two weeks, okay? Theo's chest shakes with laughter against your head.

"Contrary to popular belief, I can be somewhat tolerable sometimes."

"Then why the fuck have you spent the last several years being such a prick? It was just pushing me away you know."

"That was kind of the point," Theo says, making you scoff. "Love is weakness and all."

God, the emotional whiplash was going to make you sick.

"Well, which one is the real you?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Not if you want me to put up with your sorry arse."

Theo lets out another quiet laugh.

"Well, you might have to learn to love both sides, because I do fear you're stuck with me," Theo responds, pulling you closer to his chest. "Now come here you little minx."

Before you can protest, Theo's hand has found your chin, tilting your head up just enough for him to capture your lips with his own. It's soft, hesitant at first, as if he's not sure if you'll pull away or not. But your hand finds its way into his hair, pulling him closer still as you move your lips against his, nipping, teasing. You can feel the smile grow on Theo's face as he deepens the kiss, his other hand finding it's way to rest on your thigh.

When you finally pull away, you can still feel his warm breath on your face as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"For the record, I still hate you," you say, still slightly out of breath, a teasing smile playing across your lips.

"I'm sure you do carissima. I hate you too," Theo replies before engulfing you in his arms once more.

it sounds like he’s begging at this point, and it sends you over the edge. your fingers dive into his hair, knotting the chestnut locks as he earns a white knuckled grip from you as you finish for him. as your chest rises and falls, your throat runs raw—sucking in too much air too quickly at once.

you’re seeing stars, and you hear him moaning.

“steve..” you sigh, but he’s too busy making out with your pussy to hear you. slow and soft, you feel his tongue brush against your flesh, gently sucking your clit. it makes you twitch, stomach clenching and hips bucking.

“steve—” you repeat, but it feels..good. too good. overwhelmingly good. moans start to spill from you once more, and you can swear he acknowledges you with a soft “mm-hmm,” but you don’t know. nor do you care.

the warmth that’s nestled in the pit of your stomach grows, hearing his mouth tease your pussy. you’re soaked. steve is munching.

soft noises leave him, pressing kisses to your pussy.

“gimme one more, princess.” he says, finally.