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.✦ ݁˖ SFW

max is a creature of habit. he loves waking you up with a kiss and a perfectly brewed cup of tea, but he’ll use the time to subtly brag about a goal he’s already achieved before you’ve even opened your eyes. it’s his way of seeking your validation

he loves that he doesn’t have to pretend with you. around everyone else he’s the chaotic, theatrical max hatter, but with you he lets the softer edges show. he’ll pull you into quiet corners just to steal a moment where it’s only the two of you. then, just as quickly, he’ll flip back to teasing, spinning you around and declaring to no one in particular that his princess is the only person who can keep up with him

he has a keen eye for fashion.he loves helping you pick out your outfits, not because he wants to control you, but because he views you as an extension of his own prestige. he loves it when you look stunning, but he loves it even more when he knows you're wearing something he picked for you

he thrives on making you laugh, on seeing that smile he claims is better than any magic in wonderland.and when the day winds down, he’s the one who pulls you close,fingers tangled with yours, quietly admitting he’s never been this happy pretending to be normal with anyone else

when he’s truly stubborn,he won’t fight with you—he’ll just give you that overly pleasant ‘hatter act’.it’s a psychological game. he waits for you to crack the moment you show genuine distress, his kind heart wins out and he’ll fold instantly, pulling you into a tight embrace

when he’s jealous he becomes incredibly possessive in a subtle way. he’ll slide his arm around your waist or start talking about a private joke only the two of you share, effectively marking his territory without ever raising his voice

max loves to play with your anticipation. he’ll lean in slow, his lips just a fraction of an inch from yours, holding the position until you're practically vibrating with need. just as you close your eyes to finally seal the gap, he’ll whisper a cheeky joke or a playful comment in your ear and pull away with a grin, loving the way you pout.

he has a habit of "stealing" things from you,just to get your attention. he won't hide them far, but he'll make you "earn" them back through a series of ridiculous challenges or by giving him a specific number of kisses

he is subconsciously driven by your praise. if you tell him how much you love it when he does a certain chore or how "amazing" he is at something, he will practically obsess over doing it even better next time. he doesn't just want to be the best in wonderland; he wants to be the absolute best in your eyes

while he’s generally playful and lighthearted,max has a protective side that surfaces the moment he feels you're being slighted. he doesn't necessarily get aggressive, but he becomes incredibly poised and sharp-tongued, using his charm and wit to shut down anyone who doesn't treat you with the respect you deserve

.✦ ݁˖. NSFW

because he spends his whole life trying to prove himself, hearing you tell him how good he is—specifically how well he's fucking you—drives him absolutely wild. a whispered "you're so good to me— so good max" will make him lose all his composure

in the bedroom, his ambition manifests as a need to dominate the experience. he loves being the one to dictate the pace, guiding your body exactly where he wants it. he enjoys the feeling of you completely unraveling under his touch, knowing he's the only one capable of making you feel that way

he’s fascinated by your reactions.he loves to push you to the edge of an orgasm and then stop abruptly, teasing you until you're begging him to finish. he treats your pleasure like a challenge, wanting to see exactly how much you can take before you break

he has a habit of leaving marks—hickeys on your neck or bite marks on your shoulder—specifically in places that are hidden by clothes. it’s his secret way of reminding you and himself that you belong to him, even when you're out in the world acting the part of the perfect couple

.✦ ݁˖ + he’d also say / do things like :

you catch the way max’s eyes light up the second you walk into the room, that signature grin spreading across his face like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. “ah, there she is… my princess has finally arrived.” he says it loud enough for everyone to hear, making a dramatic show of clearing a path with exaggerated bows and sweeping gestures. “everyone, please make way. the princess requires room to walk.”

he loves teasing you when you’re in a mood, leaning in close with that playful lilt in his voice. “oh no, the princess is unhappy? whatever shall i do?” it’s never mean-spirited—he’s already watching your reaction, ready to pivot into something softer if he senses even a hint of real annoyance. when he realizes he’s pushed it too far, he gets adorably awkward about it, suddenly offering you his favorite hat or pulling you into a clumsy hug while mumbling, “okay, okay, i’m sorry, princess… here, you can wear the hat. it looks better on you anyway.”

the more time you spend together, the bolder his playfulness gets.he’ll tug you into his lap without warning, arms looping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “i cannot believe i have to deal with you” he’ll groan dramatically, but there’s nothing but affection in the way his fingers trace lazy circles on your hip. other times he switches to pure compliments, whispering against your ear how stunning you look today or how your laugh is his favorite sound in all of wonderland

max acts like the most confident guy in the room—unpredictable, loud, always pulling some new trick out of his sleeve or hat —but you’re the one who sees how much he actually cares. he’ll pretend he doesn’t notice when you catch him being sweet “what? i just happened to be going this way,” he’ll claim with a shrug, but the tips of his ears turn pink every single time

⊹ ࣪ ˖⏱ ୭˚. ᵎ MASTERLIST

Pansy's "How to Woo a Girl 101" was clearly very hard for Draco to comprehend. Because based on the look on Theo's and Blaise's faces, it was not going well. At all.

Draco dramatically gasped as if he was being accused of murder, he then put a hand over his heart and then started rambling. "She isn't just any girl. She's the most perfect witch to ever exist! Gosh, do you guys even see how beautiful and smart and—" but, before he could continue, he was cut off by Blaise.

"We get it mate! You're bewitched by her." Blaise groaned loudly, throwing his head back and resting it on the backrest of the couch.

Theo sighed, "Mate, look," he said sternly, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You just have to ask her a simple eleven word question, 'Would. you. like. to. go. to. the. Yule. Ball. with. me.?' see? Easier than brewing Felix Felicis!"

Draco was suddenly hot and started to fidget with his fingers all because of that eleven word question. "Easy for you to say, Theo. You don't have a big fat crush o—" he was cut off yet again. This time, by Pansy.

"Alright, Malfoy. We're done," she announced, crossing her arms. "Either you tell her—or we will!" Pansy smirked, now putting her hands on her hips, trying to hide her laugh as she stood up. The two boys beside her started snickering as they followed Pansy towards the dormitories, leaving Draco in a very difficult position.

Theo suddenly stopped in front of Draco, "You better ask her soon or you know what's coming." He teased, then continued to follow Blaise and Pansy.

"Wait! I'll do it!" He stammered, his hand reaching out, a hopeless attempt to let them stay. "But—uh—is 'You looked like a powdered donut and still managed to be gorgeous.' a good compliment? Because the potion she was brewing blew up last week."

All he got in reply was loud groans and sighs as three of his friends continued walking away from him.

"Guys?!"

Silence.

Draco sighed as he looked down at his feet. "Hey! You looked like a powdered donut and still managed to be gorgeous." He quietly muttered to himself.

⸻

The next day, Draco's heart felt like it was going to come out of his chest and his feet felt like rubber as he saw you strolling through the library. This was it. This was the day he's going to ask you the eleven word question.

Naturally, he brought backup—just in case of a stutter, a horrible nosebleed, or, Merlin forbid, passing out. He had to full-on beg them to come with him, since, in Pansy's own words:

“How are you even going to dance with her if you need us just to ask her to the ball? What—are we going to do a group dance in case you pass out?”

She may be right...

But he badly needed emotional support or he'll die of a heart attack before he could even talk to you.

"Alright. I'm going to go up to her, compliment her pretty face, ask her the question, and hope for the best." He whispered, his grip tightening on the stem of your favorite flower.

The four of them were currently formed in a circle at the corner of the library, three pairs of eyes staring at the blonde boy as he told them his plan.

Theo gave him a flat look, unimpressed. “That’s the plan? That’s it?”

“Well, do you have a better one?” Draco snapped, slightly louder than he intended, which earned them all a sharp shhh! from Madam Pince across the room. They all winced and lowered their heads like scolded toddlers.

Blaise leaned in, voice a murmur. “Yes. Literally anything other than blurting out powdered donut compliments in the library.” He rubbed his temples. “Just… try not to be weird, mate.”

“I’m not weird,” Draco muttered, offended.

“Yeah?” Pansy raised a brow. “You practiced your line in the mirror seven times this morning and then gave the flower a pep talk.”

Draco blushed furiously. “It’s her favorite flower. It needs to be… emotionally prepared.”

Theo shook his head, muttering, “We’re emotionally exhausted.”

Still, despite their teasing, the trio gave him nods of encouragement as he squared his shoulders, tucked the flower carefully behind his back, and began the slow, risky walk toward where you sat—cross-legged on the carpet between two shelves, surrounded by a sea of books and parchment, humming softly to yourself as you scribbled into your notes.

He froze halfway.

You were chewing on the end of your quill, a bit of ink on your chin, your eyes narrowed in concentration. You wore a flower crown made of daises again today—different colors if he may add—the yellows, oranges, and whites complimenting your face. Draco thought he might pass out on the spot.

'Gosh how can she be so beautiful while doing nothing.'

"GO!" Pansy whisper yelled as she pushed Draco toward you.

"Wait n—" he stumbled toward you. He was begging his feet to go back to his safe cocoon where he wouldn't get humiliated or possibly pass out, but they were stuck on the ground—unable to move.

"Hey!" he gulped, his cheeks rapidly turning red for being flustered but mostly from embarrassment.

You glanced up at the sudden noise and there he was. He looked... hot.

HOT! as in sweating hot—not the kind of hot where his hair was pushed back after a shower in the quidditch lockers and definitely not the time when—

Stop it!

“Oh! Hello, Draco." You said, offering him a warm smile as you stood, brushing the creases from your skirt to face him properly.

He smiled back—but it wasn’t the kind of smile most people gave. It was lopsided, almost shaky, like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be confident or terrified. His hands fidgeted behind his back, and then—

"ELEVENWORDQUESTION!" he blurted.

You blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Draco swallowed hard, his cheeks rapidly turning pink. “What I meant to say is… you look like a powdered donut.”

What.

The.

Hell?

Your smile faltered. You looked down at your shoes, heart sinking a little. Was that… was that supposed to be an insult?

“Oh,” you murmured, suddenly self-conscious. A quiet, uncertain panic started to rise in your chest.

“No, no, no, wait—!” Draco rushed forward, eyes wide. He reached out and placed his hands gently on your shoulders, his voice frantic now. “That came out wrong. I mean—you looked like a powdered donut last week—when the potion exploded—and you still looked… you still looked gorgeous.”

You looked up at him, stunned.

He took a breath, then, with trembling fingers, pulled a flower from behind his back. Your flower. The one he’d somehow remembered you loved.

“Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?” he asked, quieter now—earnest, vulnerable, the chaos gone from his voice.

And that was when everything seemed to stand still. You stare at him, your mouth agape. You could feel blood rushing through your cheeks.

And then… from behind the nearest shelf came the unmistakable sound of stifled laughter.

You glanced past Draco and saw them—Pansy, Blaise, Theo—all doubled over, failing miserably at hiding. Pansy wiped a tear from her eye. Blaise was wheezing. And Theo was clutching his stomach, trying to breathe.

Oh.

Of course.

It was a dare. A prank. A joke at your expense.

The flower in Draco’s hand suddenly felt like a knife.

Your chest clenched. You took a step back.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady even as your throat tightened. “I… I have to say no.”

His face crumpled in confusion as you turned away, blinking back tears you refused to let fall—not here, not in front of them.

Not when your heart had almost believed him.

⸻

“Mate,” Blaise had said later, tentatively, from the foot of Draco’s bed, where Draco had buried himself under his emerald blanket like a disgraced ghost. “She didn’t even see the part where you were being sincere.”

“She saw enough,” Draco mumbled.

Pansy kicked his mattress. “She saw us laughing, you dolt. She thinks we were laughing at her. Do you know what that does to a girl?” she added sharply, voice rising with frustration and—Draco noticed—genuine guilt. “You’ve got less than a week till the Yule Ball, and if you want any chance of fixing this, you better stop acting like a sad house-elf and do something.”

Draco’s next plan of action was, to put it bluntly, disastrous.

If he couldn’t speak to you like a normal person, then maybe he could… gesture grandly instead. Show, not tell, right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

It began with him walking—strutting—past your table in the courtyard three times in one lunch period, each time pretending he just happened to be passing by. The first time, he loudly commented to Blaise about how some people had “really excellent taste in flower crowns.” The second time, he tripped on a root and faceplanted into a bush. The third time, he tried to recover by dramatically pulling out a textbook and reading upside down while sneakily peeking at you over the pages.

You didn’t look up once.

“Subtle,” Blaise had deadpanned as he helped pick leaves out of Draco’s hair.

Then came the grand gestures. One morning, you opened your Transfiguration book and found—inside it—a single, freshly pressed forget-me-not. The ink on the page was slightly smudged as if someone had fumbled it with nervous fingers. Tucked next to the flower was a piece of parchment with a single line in jagged, uptight handwriting:

I never forgot. - D

The next day? A little paper crane fluttered down onto your lap during Charms. No one else noticed—except you. It unfolded itself midair to reveal another message:

I’d say something. But every time I try, I ruin it.

He was trying. You could feel it, in all his awkward, dramatic glory.

Then, during Care of Magical Creatures, he nearly sacrificed himself trying to separate you from a cranky Murtlap. You didn’t even ask for help, but there he was, sprinting across the paddock like a knight in shining robes, yelling, “DON’T WORRY, I’VE GOT IT!” before the Murtlap turned and promptly bit his wrist.

You rushed forward instinctively, wand already out, muttering a healing charm with a furrow in your brow. And Draco… Draco smiled like he’d just been kissed.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, half-annoyed, half-worried, as he flexed his hand and hissed.

“Worth it,” he said, eyes locked on you.

That night, you found another note tucked into the folds of your Herbology textbook:

Still an idiot. Still hoping. Still not giving up.

You rolled your eyes.

But you smiled.

⸻

It wasn’t until three days before the ball that he finally had a chance to explain.

You were walking back from dinner, your hands tucked into your robes, eyes on the frost glittering across the windows, when you heard it:

“Wait—please.”

Draco’s voice. Real. Sincere. Clear.

You turned, surprised to see him without backup, no Pansy whispering strategies in his ear, no Blaise with the emergency escape plan, no Theo who can tease him to no end.

Just Draco.

Alone.

Face flushed from the cold—or nerves. Maybe both.

You folded your arms. “Going to call me a pastry again?”

He winced. “Gods, no. Never again.” A beat passed. Then: “Well, unless you start working at Honeydukes. Then maybe once. Or twice.”

You didn’t laugh. But the corner of your mouth twitched.

He took that as a good sign.

“I know what you thought,” Draco said, stepping forward. “When they laughed. You thought it was a joke. That I was making fun of you.” His eyes were painfully honest, gray and glinting like wet stone. “But they weren’t laughing at you. They were laughing at me.”

You blinked. “Why?”

“Because I’d been practicing that line since breakfast. Because I’d stammered like an idiot and spilled ink on my cuff and given a flower a motivational speech. Because I was absolutely pathetic. For you.” He let out a nervous huff.

“You make me stupid.”

Your heart did a little leap.

Draco stepped closer. “And you know what? I don’t care if I look stupid. I’d rather look stupid in front of the entire school than let you go to the Yule Ball without knowing the truth.”

There was a long, breathless pause.

“I like you. I’ve liked you since the first time you made that little dandelion braid and stuck it in your scroll instead of using a bookmark. I like how you hum to yourself when you’re thinking. I like that you stay up after curfew just to stargaze and name constellations like they’re your personal pets. I like that you make everything around you feel… lighter.”

He stepped closer again, now inches from you.

“And if you’ll let me… I want to make you feel that way too.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. For once, you were the one struck speechless.

Draco reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a a bouquet of your favorite flower. Blooming. Vibrant. Alive.

“I grew this,” he said quietly. “Chose the seed, studied the soil, made sure it got the exact right light. It took weeks. But it’s yours.”

He gently held it out.

You stared at the flower. Then up at him.

Finally, your voice found its way back.

“…You didn’t stutter,” you whispered.

Draco smirked. It was slow, confident—flirty.

“No. Not when it really matters.”

And then, with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he added, “So. Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

You smiled.

Not just because the flower was perfect.

Not just because his voice was steady.

But because, for the first time, it felt real. No nerves. No games. Just Draco. Asking you.

Properly.

“Yes,” you said, cheeks glowing.

His grin was immediate.

“And I expect a dance,” you added, pretending to be stern. “A real one. No passing out. No backup dancers.”

Draco leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath.

“Only if you promise not to look like a powdered donut this time.”

You laughed—finally, laughed—and shoved his shoulder.

“You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he said smugly, “I’m still your date.”

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

childhood friend!aerion who, as a few years in the red keep flew by, started to grow into the boy the realm knew better, growing more and more cruel to you.

childhood friend!aerion who'd tug hard on your hair, laugh at how you looked in your dresses, the ones you'd began to wear at ten and two. anything to see your face scrunch up as you began to cry. the only times he wouldn't do this was if his father was around to stop it, or even if daeron told him to stop, which was rare, as this was around the time daerons dreams became too unbearable, and he was starting to drink more and more.

you only knew this because on the rare moments he'd speak to you, alone, with clarity, he'd tell you that aerion wouldn't always treat you this way, that he'd seen it.

childhood friend!aerion who you eventually grew distant from. not just because of how his treatment of you had changed, but because eventually, you had to return to your own land, your mother wanted to start finding a match for you, since you were about to turn fourteen.

childhood friend!aerion who, didn't tell anyone about how his chest tightened at the news, either that, or he didn't know why it happened. either way, in the next years that passed, he trained himself to look out for any news on you, or who was trying to court you.

after three years away from the red keep, away from your father, and away from aerion, you decided to return for your eighteenth nameday. you were still unmarried, which was quite the topic in the realm.

nobody wanted to marry you anymore. anyone who'd tried to court you in the past few years had died randomly, for reasons you didn't know, it frightened you, wondering what curse had befallen you, and forced you to do your best to stay far away from any high lord.

childhood friend!aerion who expertly hid his excitement upon hearing that you were returning to the red keep, unbetrothed. he knew this was his opportunity, he'd already told his father, and yours. he wanted the nameday celebration to become a betrothal celebration.

his betrothal, to you. he knew your father would say yes, your family was desperate to marry you off at this point, which he'd counted on.

childhood friend!aerion who you ended up getting married to. the one man immune to your curse. the curse which you'd began to realize, every time he pulled you away from conversations with other men, knight or high lord, may have been him.

♧ like with everything else, he was super nervous when you guys got more intimate for the first time. he really wanted to make sure you wanted it, always asking if he's going too quickly or making you uncomfortable or if you wanted to stop. of course, everything was better than you could ever imagine.

♧ he got a bit too eager once and almost broke the bed. the second he heard a louder-than-usual creak, he immediately stopped. you guys just stared at each other in shock before scrambling out of bed to lift up the mattress and check the frame.

♧ he prefers giving over receiving. you try to argue against him, always offering to return the favor, but it's kind of hard with those big shiny puppy eyes he always gives you. not to mention the way his glasses fog up when he goes down on you, or the way he looks up to meet your gaze through his dark eyelashes. you practically have to tear your eyes away from him to not cum on the spot.

♧ he got rid of all his porno mags the second you guys became a thing. he felt like using them would be cheating. besides, why would he need a stranger to gawk at when he had you? in his mind, you're way better than any model.

♧ ever since you came along, he's stopped jerking off as much. he still does, of course, and when he does, he only thinks about you. your hand wrapped around his dick, your voice praising him for being so good... oops, did i mention that yet? he totally has a major praise kink.

♧ he likes when you're on top. doesn't matter what you guys are doing, but if you're above him, he crumbles immediately.

♧ dry humping. he does it on purpose sometimes, but it's also practically a subconscious instinct of his. you found this out during your guys' first deep make out session. it was kind of hard to ignore the way he was grinding his hips into your thighs. when you called him out on his, he blushed and started stuttering immediately, apologizing to you thinking he had made you uncomfortable. you thought his flusteredness was funny though, and you told him you were fine with it. after that, he completely let loose.

♧ cums hard. he may not have the biggest load, but his orgasms are practically a performance. his face scrunches up, his eyes rolling back before closing shut. he throws his head back, his mouth hanging open and letting out the prettiest moans before he purses his lips in an attempt to muffle them. of course, that just turns them into whimpers. he mumbles your name like a prayer between ragged gasps of air, as if being quiet would suddenly stop the electric feeling shooting through him.

Mattheo Riddle wasn’t exactly known for his considerate nature. In fact, he was notoriously lacking in it.

He was well aware that nothing at Hogwarts stayed a secret—honestly, he was part of the reason why.

In second year, the moment he caught wind of Lorenzo’s crush on that Ravenclaw, he practically sang it up and down every corridor, playing matchmaker with the subtlety of a drunken Hippogriff.

In fourth year, when Draco admitted—in passing—that Granger was “sort of hot in a terrifying way,” Mattheo nearly hexed him into the next era. Still, he whistled and hummed the Wedding March every time they passed each other, just to make Draco suffer.

And just last year, he’d personally tortured Theo over his crush on that Hufflepuff—publicly, relentlessly—until she finally caved and started dating him.

So yeah. Now that he had a crush, there was no way in hell he was letting anyone find out. Especially not Theo.

Because if there was one thing Mattheo had earned in life, it was karma. And this? This would be brutal.

Well… that. And—

“Fratellone~” (big brother~)

Mattheo’s entire nervous system short-circuited.

Your voice floated into the common room like smoke and sugar, playful and sweet—and there you were, head poking in, eyes wide and sparkly, looking right at Theo.

He sat lazily on the sofa with Mattheo beside him, but Mattheo would’ve been lying if he said the sight of your big, pleading doe eyes didn’t make him swoon just a little.

He also tried not to react to the way you were fluttering your lashes like you were auditioning for a Veela commercial.

Theo chuckled, rolling his eyes, "What do you want?"

"Will you promise to say yes first?" You asked sweetly, lips pursed in a pout, rocking on your heels with your eyes wide like a tragic fairytale character.

Theo scowled at you—but there was no real malice in it, "Like hell. What do you want?"

"Some allowance." You replied, tilting your head just slightly—and Merlin help him, Mattheo almost pulled out his wallet for you.

Theo, however, was unmoved. He scoffed, "Yeah, right. What happened to all your allowance? I’m not giving you a single knut."

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you flopped right between the two of them, your shoulder brushing Mattheo’s as your scent flooded his brain.

He stared straight ahead. He did not inhale. He definitely did not imagine himself burying his nose into the crook of your neck and taking in your scent.

"Theoooo," You whined, stretching his name like syrup, "I want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend with my friends. Pleeeease?"

He narrowed his eyes, grimacing again, and you let out another pitiful whine.

A beat passed before he finally sighed, "Fine. Go get my wallet from my dorm."

You grinned, victorious, as you pulled the wallet straight out of your robe pocket.

Theo let out a scoff of disbelief, "Unbelievable."

You merely gave him a smile.

"You know," He grumbled as you pocketed the money, "when I ran out of allowance, I didn’t have anyone to scam with big eyes and fake innocence. You’re lucky you’ve got such a good big brother."

You huffed, smug, "That’s your job as my big brother. If you wanted the special treatment, you should’ve been born second."

Mattheo very calmly decided that if Theo ever found out about the state of his crush, he would simply have to fake his own death and transfer to Durmstrang under a new identity.

After a couple weeks of hopeless, spiraling, late-night-scribbling-his-name-next-to-yours-on-scrap-parchment kind of pining, Mattheo had finally made up his mind.

He was going to tell you. Actually confess. Like a proper idiot in love.

It was stupid, really—how nervous he felt. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what was worse: the actual feelings, or the fact that he was handling them like a fourth year with his first crush.

Honestly, he felt like he was in over his head—and Mattheo Riddle never felt that way. His comfort zone was massive. He wasn’t the type to second-guess himself, or get shy, or blush when someone looked at him a second too long. If anything, he was usually the one making other people uncomfortable with how confident and shameless he was.

He had always been the type to take charge of any situation. If he wanted something, he said so. Gave the time and place. No hesitation. No second-guessing. No vulnerability.

But with you?

With you, it was different.

You made him feel like the floor might disappear from under him at any second. Like rejection from you wouldn’t just sting—it would wreck him.

And maybe that was dramatic, maybe even pathetic, but he’d take pathetic over regret any day. At least if he confessed, he could say he’d tried. Even if it went horribly. Even if you laughed in his face.

(Which he was only mildly worried about. Okay, more than mildly. He’d had an actual dream where that happened. Twice.)

Still, he figured he had to try. At least this way, if it all fell apart, he’d know he hadn’t kept his mouth shut like a coward. And, of course, he owed Theo the basic respect of asking you out properly.

So he waited. Bided his time.

And when he saw you one night alone in the library—half-asleep over your Charms essay, ink smudged across your fingers—he figured this was it.

Game time.

You looked up at the sound of his footsteps, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Mattheo Riddle?” You teased, “In the library? Are you lost?”

He tried to fire something back. Something snarky or clever or Mattheo-ish.

Instead, all he managed was a breathless smile.

Your teasing faded instantly. You sat up straighter, “Are you okay?”

He exhaled through his nose, nodded once, “Yeah. I just… I need to tell you something.”

Your expression softened, open and patient, “Okay. Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

He blinked. Swallowed.

Then immediately began spiraling.

“It’s just that—I think you’re a—no, wait. That’s not how I wanted to start. I’ve been feeling like this for a couple months—shit, no, that sounds stalkerish—”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in concern. Mattheo Riddle, Hogwarts’ most sarcastic menace, was stammering like a first year. You’d never seen him like this.

“Mattheo?” You asked gently, “Just say it. I promise I won’t judge you.”

He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a breath.

“It’s not you judging me that I’m afraid of,” He muttered, “It’s just… I’ve never had these feelings before. Not like this. And it’s been driving me insane, not saying anything. I’ve wanted to for weeks. But there’s Theo—you know he’s my best mate—and I didn’t want to make things weird or screw it all up. But honestly, I don’t think I care anymore. Not when it feels like this.”

He looked up at you finally, eyes wide and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen on him before.

You looked upset. Maybe even heartbroken. Mattheo felt his stomach drop.

A beat passed.

Then you smiled. Slowly. Brightly.

“I think I understand what you’re saying, Mattheo.”

His heart nearly stopped, “Y-You do?”

You nodded eagerly, eyes shining, “Yeah. And—wow. I mean—this is amazing news.”

A smile bloomed on his face, stunned and almost disbelieving, “Wait. Really? You think so?”

“Of course I do!” You laughed, standing to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, “This is great. I’m so happy for you.”

He froze for a second, then melted into it, arms winding around you with relief pouring through his chest. He tucked his face into your hair and breathed in the scent of your shampoo.

Finally.

He’d done it. He’d told you. And you—Merlin, you felt the same. You really—

You pulled back, still smiling, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His brain short-circuited.

“Listen, I should get to bed,” You said, gathering your books in your arms with a small smile, “But we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”

Mattheo nodded, eyes wide and glassy, like he wasn’t entirely sure what dimension he was in, “Y-Yeah. Okay.”

You gave him a wink—light, teasing, completely unaware of the emotional earthquake you’d just caused—and turned, heading down the corridor toward the dorms. Your footsteps echoed gently, fading into the stillness of the night.

The second you turned the corner and were safely out of sight, you bolted into the nearest empty hallway, nearly tripping over your own feet as you pressed your back to the wall, books clutched to your chest, heart pounding.

Your thoughts were a blur.

Mattheo Riddle.

The guy you'd been lowkey—okay, not so lowkey—crushing on for weeks. The one who made your stomach flip every time he so much as looked at you. The same boy who’d just opened up to you with flushed cheeks and fumbled words and a nervousness you never thought you’d see on him.

You blinked rapidly, breath caught in your throat, replaying the entire conversation in our head.

You groaned, sliding down the wall until you were sitting on the cold stone floor, completely humiliated.

“I can’t believe this,” You whispered, “I was this close to asking him to Hogsmeade.”

The next morning was a blur.

You hadn’t slept.

How could you, after what happened in the library? After Mattheo Riddle—a boy you’d been quietly losing your mind over for weeks—had looked you in the eye and told you, with a trembling voice, and broke your heart.

You were the main character in an absolute tragedy.

You spent all of night thinking it through, picturing the next couple years in your future. You'd undoubtedly be around Mattheo for a lot of those years because of his closeness to Theo. Could you really survive that?

I mean, you had to, didn't you?

Just as the morning rays of sunshine began to flitter through your curtains you had attempted to strengthen your already flimsy resolve.

You were happy.

Really.

You were.

Fucking hell.

So when Mattheo found you in the Great Hall that morning and slid into the seat beside you with the most relaxed, pleased-with-himself smile you’d ever seen on his face, your heart sank.

“Morning,” He said, nudging you playfully, “Sleep okay?”

You blinked, “Um. Yeah. You?”

“Best night of my life.” He said, completely sincere.

You stared at him.

God, he must really be happy.

You cleared your throat and focused very, very hard on your scrambled eggs.

Mattheo, meanwhile, was thriving. You were a little quiet, sure, but he figured that was just nerves. Shyness. Maybe you were still processing the fact that he liked you. Really liked you. That he’d finally said it out loud.

He nudged you again, dropping his voice slightly.

“So, uh… when do you think we should tell Theo?”

Your soul left your body.

Tell Theo. Tell Theo?!

He wanted you to witness him breaking your heart in person?!

You slowly lowered your fork, “You want me to be there when you... tell him?”

Mattheo’s smile widened like your reaction was exactly what he was hoping for, “Yeah, I mean, obviously he’s gonna be weird about it at first—but he’ll come around.”

You stared at him, a strange buzzing in your ears, “Right. Um. I don’t think I should be there for that.”

His brows lifted, “Oh?”

“I just… I think it’s something you should do on your own. You know? One-on-one. No distractions.”

Mattheo nodded slowly, lips pressed together in thought, “Yeah. I get that. ”

“I just don’t think my presence would help.”

He chuckled softly, “You’re seriously adorable when you’re anxious.”

You blinked.

Mattheo tilted his head, confused for a split second… then smiled.

“Alright,” He said, nodding seriously, “I’ll talk to him later.”

You nodded back, forcing a smile, while internally screaming into the void.

There was a sharp knock on the door to your dorm room.

You sat up in bed, startled, textbook sliding from your lap. Your roommates all told you they were staying out late to finish their joined project in the library. You had been expecting to have the dorm empty for at least another hour.

“Who the hell—?”

The door creaked open, and Mattheo slipped inside, curls a little messy, eyes shadowed and stormy, shoulders slumped.

He gave you a little smile when he entered though it did little to betray his crestfallen expression as he trudged over to your spot on the bed before he threw himself on the mattress beside you. His arms immediately went around your waist in a hug as he hid his face into the side of your thigh.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

“Mattheo?” You whispered, brushing his curls away from his eyes, “What—what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

He looked up at you like he wasn’t sure whether to speak or just collapse into your lap and stay there forever. A part of him didn’t want to say anything. He knew how much you adored your older brother. If you found out Theo wasn’t supportive of your relationship, it would wreck you.

But the way you were looking at him, gentle and concerned and so you, cracked him wide open.

“I told him.”

You blinked, “You told Theo?”

He nodded slowly. There was something behind his eyes—hurt, confusion, frustration. And something else too. Shame.

“How did he take it?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Mattheo let out a bitter breath and ran a hand down his face, “Not well. He looked at me like I’d lost my fucking mind. Told me I was sick. Said I needed to back off before things got weird.”

Your chest caved in. Horror filling every pore and vein, inching itself into your bones. Yesterday, you had kind of hoped for this. But today? You were utterly mortified by your brother's actions.

“He said that to you?”

Mattheo sighed, closing his eyes and just enjoying the way you carded through his hair, “Yeah. I mean, I guess I get it. I didn’t exactly ask for permission before anything happened—”

“Permission?” You echoed, getting increasingly angry.

He kept talking, “I just thought he’d at least be annoyed, you know? Or at least not act like I committed a sin. I mean, I don't really give a shit about what he thinks but he's my best mate.”

You stood, furious, “I can’t believe him. That’s so unfair.”

Mattheo looked up, slightly startled.

You were pacing now, barefoot, fury radiating off you like heat.

“I mean, what century are we living in? If you like someone, you like someone. He doesn’t get to make you feel wrong for that.”

Mattheo blinked, “Wait—what?”

“I’m gonna go yell at him,” You snapped, already marching toward the door, “He doesn’t get to treat you like that. He should be grateful you were honest. Gods, I’m so mad right now—”

“Wait, (Y/N), wait—” Mattheo followed, hands raised like he was trying to calm a charging dragon, “Sweetheart, it’s really not that big a deal. He’ll cool off, and I’ll talk to him again—”

“That’s not good enough!” You snapped, throwing open the door, “God, if Mama saw what a heartless bastard he turned into—ugh! I’m gonna hex his balls off!”

You stormed out, slamming the door behind you so hard it rattled on its hinges.

Mattheo stood in the silence that followed, staring at the now-closed door, stunned.

A long pause.

Then, very quietly:

“…I fear for my safety when we have our first fight.”

You stormed through the Slytherin common room like a woman possessed, your footsteps echoing furiously through the stone corridors.

People scattered. Literally scattered.

You weren’t sure where Theo was, but your rage must’ve acted as some kind of tracking charm, because the moment you shoved open the boys’ dorm door, there he was—lounging at his desk, reading some smug little book with his legs kicked up like he owned the castle.

“Theodore. Fucking. Nott.”

Theo looked up, startled—just in time for you to march over and yank him up by the ear.

“OW—WHAT THE BLOODY HELL—!”

“Don’t ‘what the bloody hell’ me, you absolute tosser,” You snapped, dragging him upright like a furious mother catching her child vandalizing a sacred artifact, “Mattheo tells you how he feels—he opens up to you—and you call him sick?! Are you completely deranged?!”

Theo flailed dramatically, “Let go of my ear! Have you lost your mind?!”

“Have you?! You’re supposed to be his best friend! Do you have any idea how hard that must’ve been for him?! He came to you vulnerable—and you rejected him like he was diseased!”

Theo stopped struggling. His face twisted in confusion.

“Okay, what the actual hell are you talking about?!”

You jabbed a finger into his chest with your free hand, “Don’t play dumb. Mattheo told me he has feelings for someone, and yesterday he went to confess. Then he shows up to my dorm crushed because you turned him away like he didn't mean anything to you!"

There was a heavy pause.

Theo blinked.

“…He told you he had feelings for someone?”

“Yes!” You snapped.

“And you thought he meant…” Theo trailed off, narrowing his eyes.

You squinted right back, “…You?”

Theo stared at you. You stared at him.

Then he grabbed your ear.

“OW—HEY—WHAT THE HELL—!”

“You utter moron!” He hissed, twisting slightly, “You thought Mattheo was confessing to me?!”

“I WAS TRYING TO BE SUPPORTIVE!”

“SUPPORTIVE?! OF ME DATING MATTHEO?! ARE YOU HIGH?!”

“STOP TWISTING, YOU GOBLIN!”

You both stood there like absolute lunatics, yanking on each other’s ears, realization dawning in slow-motion horror.

And then— The dorm door burst open. And Mattheo came in.

His eyes landed on Theo gripping your ear.

His entire face shifted.

“Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Mattheo barked, “I don’t care if she’s your sister, Nott—get your hands off my girlfriend!”

You froze.

Mattheo took a step forward, jaw clenched, “Seriously. Let go.”

You blinked, “…Girlfriend?”

Silence.

A very heavy silence.

Mattheo turned to you, suddenly uncertain, “Yeah? I mean—you don’t mind, do you?”

You gawked at him, “Wait, hold on. I must’ve missed a few chapters—since when am I your girlfriend?”

Mattheo’s brows drew together, “Well… we didn’t officially say anything, but I thought… I mean, yesterday—”

“Yesterday?!”

“Yeah! You said it was amazing news. I thought that meant you liked the idea!”

“I did think it was a good idea! I mean—at the time I did! But then today happened—”

Mattheo stiffened, voice dropping, “So you don’t want to date me because Theo doesn’t like it?”

You stared at him, completely flabbergasted, “Mattheo… aren’t you gay?”

Theo, who had been suspiciously quiet up until this point, snorted.

Then he wheeze-laughed.

Then he bent over, dying, gasping for air like the world’s most dramatic mime.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” He cackled, “You two deserve each other. You're both idiots. I can't breathe.”

Mattheo’s face went red, “What?! What on earth gave you that impression?!”

“You said it yourself!” You shouted defensively, “You went on and on about your feelings—how hard it was to express, how you were scared, how it could ruin your friendship—with Theo! I thought you were coming out and telling me you were in love with him!”

Mattheo looked absolutely offended, “YES—because I didn’t know how to tell my best friend that I was in love with his baby sister!”

You blinked, “You never said my name! Not ONCE in that entire meltdown did the words ‘(Y/N), I like you’ come out of your mouth!”

“I thought it was implied! You kissed me on the cheek!”

“I’M ITALIAN, WE KISS EVERYBODY!”

Mattheo cleared his throat, “Okay. Um… let me try this again.”

You looked up at him, still a little dazed, “Please do.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking far too nervous for someone who once set a broom closet on fire in third year because, in his words, it was “for shits and giggles"

“I like you,” He said, voice low but steady, “You, Y/N Nott. Not your brother—despite his sparkling personality.”

From the bed, Theo flipped him off, “I hope you choke.”

Mattheo took a step closer, his tone softening as his eyes searched yours, “I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks. But I didn’t want to ruin things with Theo, and then I panicked—and started rambling—and then you kissed me and walked off, and I thought that meant yes. So I spent the last twenty-four hours floating around like a smug idiot thinking I had the girl of my dreams.”

You flushed, smiling despite yourself.

“I’m not gay,” Mattheo added quickly, glancing sideways at Theo, “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, obviously. I just—look, I probably shouldn’t say anything else. Every time I open my mouth, you come up with a new wild theory and I nearly get accused of seducing your brother.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

Mattheo stepped closer again, “So now that we’ve established I’m not secretly in love with Theo… would you want to be my girlfriend?"

He looked so earnest. Like he’d hand you his heart and a backup heart just in case something happened to the first one.

Your own heart skipped. “I’d love to,” You said softly. Then, with a sly smile, “I’d kiss you right now if my brother weren’t staring.”

“And for that, I’m eternally grateful,” Theo deadpanned, still sprawled on his bed, “Also grateful that as of today, you are officially his problem. You want money? You hit up your boyfriend. You set something on fire? Talk to your boyfriend. I am washing my hands clean of you.”

He dramatically mimed wiping his hands in the air.

He then added, “To think I was worried your pathetic, lovestruck, gay ass was going to break my baby sister’s heart.”

Mattheo groaned, “Not gay. Just want to emphasize again how not gay I am. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! Just—Merlin’s beard—I’m shutting up now.”

Theo smirked, “Smart move.”

Mattheo sighed and looked back at you, “...Still want to kiss me?”

You grinned, “I wouldn't be opposed.”

Theo froze, "Wait a second."

“Don’t wait up.” Mattheo said smugly to his roommate, taking your hand.

“Mattheo I swear to God—”

You pulled him toward the door, laughing, while Theo yelled curses behind the two of you.

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@laufeysvalentine

"You know, princess, I think it's high time you took your mind off things," Lorenzo murmurs, gently pinching your cheek.

Snapping back to reality brings you to a sudden realization. You're sitting in the library, and Lorenzo is across from you, offering a soft, pitying smile.

Before you can answer, he stands up, slides into the vacant seat right next to you, and pulls you close against his side.

"Since the whole Heather business, things have been entirely different between us all," he notes quietly.

"I know... everyone’s gone completely overprotective," you sigh, biting your lower lip. And then there’s the looming fact that Voldemort is actively hunting me down, but that’s a story for another day, you think miserably. "I just miss how carefree and happy we used to be. Now I feel like I'm constantly causing problems that you lot have to clean up."

"Honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you found it completely suffocating being around us," he lets out a dry, breathless laugh. You lift your head from his shoulder to look at him. "Ever since you met us, it's been nothing but trouble, hasn't it? We do nothing but loom over you, and the second we turn our backs, you're getting bullied by the rest of the school."

"But I like being with you lot," you press, looking him dead in the eye. "I'm happy that I became a part of your world."

"Yeah, well... you were perfectly happy before we dragged you into it, too," Lorenzo replies softly, his eyes dropping. "At least back then, you were just... normal."

"I'd much rather be abnormal with you guys," you say, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "I just wish we could go back to the way we were..."

Lorenzo stares at you for a beat, a sudden spark returning to his eyes. He stands up abruptly, taking your hand firmly in his and yanking you out of your chair.

"Right then. Your wish is my absolute command," he grins.

Dodging a thoroughly murderous glare from Madam Pince, he drags you past the heavy oak doors, and the very moment you clear the library, he breaks into a full sprint down the corridor, pulling you right along with him.

You let out a bright laugh as Lorenzo ruthlessly shoves Theodore off your lap, sending him tumbling onto the floor of the dormitory with a loud, dramatic thud.

Spending the entire day with Lorenzo was exactly what you needed. Just pure, unadulterated fun with your friends. No terrifying power trips from Tom, no dark wizards trying to murder you—nothing but laughter.

But as the laughter fades, you glance toward the window. "Has anyone checked on the others? It's pitch black out already and none of them have come back."

"They haven't even checked in on us," Theo mutters from the floor, dusting off his trousers. "Not even Pansy. It's weird."

A cold prickle of unease hits you. Hurrying over to your trunk, you pull out your phone to check for messages. The group chat is completely dead. Not a single message from anyone.

"They're never usually this quiet..." you frown, tracing the blank page.

Looking up, you catch Theodore staring down at his own phone, a deeply conflicted, strained expression on his face. He bites his lip, taking a sharp, heavy breath before quickly lifting his head. The moment his eyes meet yours, he forces a bright smile, acting as if nothing is wrong.

"Should we go look for them, then?" he asks, his voice a little too casual.

"Theo, are you alright?" you ask softly.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

Lorenzo slides up, grabbing both of your sleeves. "Come on. Let's go track them down."

"Actually, I think we should split up," Theo interrupts quickly, his posture stiffening. "YN should head straight back to her own dorms. We don't want you getting caught out or running into trouble right now."

Both you and Lorenzo stare at him, completely bewildered.

"I just... think we should cover more ground," Theo mutters, his eyes darting away.

Lorenzo shoots Theodore a long, calculating look before turning to you and firmly taking your hand. "Right. Come on, YN. Let's get you back to the Hufflepuff basement."

"What? But I want to help search!" you protest, pulling back. "I'm worried about them too!"

The argument is cut short the moment Lorenzo swings open the common room door. Standing right there in the dimly lit corridor is Professor Snape, with a thoroughly tense Mattheo Riddle right behind him.

Snape looks down at you, his lip curling into a low, dangerous sneer. "Fifty points from Hufflepuff. What, pray tell, do you think you are doing lurking inside the Slytherin quarters, Miss LN?"

"I—"

Mattheo steps forward immediately, placing himself squarely between Snape and the rest of you. "My brother asked her to come here."

"Your brother does not dictate the rules of this castle, Riddle," Snape silkily counters, towering over him and glaring the boy down with terrifying intensity. "Three weeks' detention, Miss LN. The rest of you—inside. Now."

"Wait, Professor, curfew hasn't even hit yet," Lorenzo argues, stepping up next to Mattheo. "Let me at least walk her to—"

"Inside. Now," Snape barks, his voice cutting like ice. "Malignant behavior will not be tolerated. Miss LN, return to your house immediately."

Mattheo and Lorenzo exchange a highly troubled, frantic glance, looking past Snape's shoulder at just how eerily empty and dead the dungeons look tonight.

"But Professor, she's already been targeted once," Mattheo presses, his hand twitching near his wand. "It's dangerous for her to walk alone—"

"I shall not be repeating myself, Mr. Riddle," Snape growls, his black eyes flashing dangerously.

Lorenzo looks from you to Snape, then back to Mattheo, who looks entirely thrown off by Snape's unyielding, aggressive urgency. Something is deeply wrong.

Realizing you have absolutely no choice, you give the boys what you hope is a reassuring nod and take a step back into the corridor. Snape ruthlessly shoves the two Slytherins back through the threshold, the heavy stone door slamming shut behind them.

Suddenly, you are completely alone, walking through the pitch-black, suffocating silence of the dungeons.

Here is the fully polished version of your high-stakes encounter:

Your heart hammers violently against your ribs as you hurry toward your common room, your eyes darting frantically into every dark alcove.

Raising your wand with a trembling hand, you mutter a protective charm over yourself, but the shimmering barrier does absolutely nothing to soothe your frayed nerves.

And then, as if your sheer panic had manifested it into reality, a jet of light streaks through the dark and hits you dead-on. Thankfully, your shield holds, absorbing the blow with a sharp crack.

Without thinking, you fire a jinx back in the direction of the flash and break into a frantic run. But before you can even clear the corridor, another spell clips your shoulder, sending you stumbling.

Suddenly, a rough hand yanks you backward, dragging you forcefully into an empty room. A palm slams over your mouth, stifling your scream, while another hand clamps over your eyes, plunging you into total darkness.

You thrash wildly against the hold, kicking and clawing, but it's entirely to no avail. A wet, wheezing breath brushes against your ear, and the blood instantly drains from your face.

"Shut up, Hufflepuff," a high-pitched, giggling voice wheezes in the dark. "You're the girl, aren't you? The little nuisance who's ruining all the plans?" A chilling, breathless laugh rattles in his chest. "Oh, how the Dark Lord will praise me for this achievement..."

You flinch as his fingers graze the sensitive skin of your neck. They feel horribly stubby and thick, the tips blunt and rough like claws, with dirty, overgrown fingernails that scratch against your skin. Worse still is the texture—they are uncomfortably clammy, slick with a sickening sweat that leaves you feeling utterly violated.

Help me, please, someone help me, you pray desperately to yourself, tears pricking your eyes.

"RIGHT IN HERE!" a familiar voice roars from the corridor.

"Damnit!" the man spits.

In a split second, the oppressive weight on you vanishes into thin air, as if he had disappeared into the very stone. The heavy door swings open with a loud thud, flooding the room with torchlight.

"Harry..." you sob, collapsing slightly. He is standing in the doorway, panting heavily, his eyes wild as he tightly grips a large sheet of blank-looking parchment.

"YN!" Pansy shrieks, rushing past him. She throws her arms around you, pulling back a second later to frantically check your face and arms for injuries. "Merlin's beard, are you alright?"

Blaise is right on her heels, his usual calm demeanor completely gone as he stares at you with deep, protective worry. "Did you see who it was? Did you catch a face?"

You merely shake your head, trembling too hard to speak.

"It's alright, you're safe now. We've got you," Pansy soothes, pulling your head onto her shoulder.

Across the room, Harry’s eyes are glued to the parchment in his hands, his brow furrowed in utter bewilderment as he scans the ink lines.

"The name right next to yours was Peter Pettigrew," Harry mutters, looking up at the empty corners of the room. "I... I see that name all the time in the Gryffindor tower. It makes no sense. I don't see anyone else in here, but the map still says he's standing right here."

"Potter... thank you," you manage to mumble through your tears.

Harry looks down at you, his expression heavy with a fierce, protective gravity. "Just stay safe, alright? I mean it, YN. You are incredibly important in all of this. It's exactly why they're so bloody keen on getting rid of you. Please, just be careful."

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I accidentally uploaded two chapters instead of a chapter because of a lag enjoy the chapters LMAO

I do have a side quest to be uploaded again

I wont upload another chapter until i finish writing 4 chapters ahead (i have 3 so far) so it might take a while since I'm not sure how to write the next

I hope to upload more side quests before this so please do send me request because i think after this chapter would be a lot of serious story stuff rather than relationship development

anyway thank you for support ily all

-kookiedough

REDLINE REDLINE REDLINE REDLINE REDLINE

You snapped out of your needy thoughts from the sound of your father Maekar discussing something with your uncle Baelor. It was boring, nothing to help your ache.

Your eyes moved across the table to Aerion who was fiddling with his blade. His fingers wrapped around it, a tight grip.

His hands always looked so good wrapped around things, in your mind.

Aerion ate another nut and glanced over at you, catching you staring, once again. His eyes focused on you. Looking over your cleavage, taking in your dress, then to your lips, and stopping at your eyes. Then back to his knife, as if he didn’t just make you wet as fuck.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to get rid of the pulsing ache calling for attention.

But it was no use. So you excused yourself and wondered down to stone corridors. You were headed towards your temporary chambers, for the tourney, then your eyes stopped on Aerion’s chambers. The door open.

The large bed was practically begging for you.

So you peaked back and then walked inside, closing the heavy door behind you. Walking across the room, towards the large bed.

It’s already been a full day here. So when you sat down on the bed, it smelt of Aerion. The smell of Tahitian Vanilla on the sheets, followed by hints of smoke.

It was so him, the smoke for his obsession of believing he is a dragon, that the dragon lives strong inside of his blood.

You never truly understood that part of him. But that didn’t matter right now.

The sounds of your dress ruffling up was all that was heard.

Except for the only light in the room, the small fireplace crackling. As you discarded your undergarment somewhere on the floor.

Your dress all the way up, showing your hips, downwards. Your fingers moving down. Finally touching the aching spot that has been begging to feel anything at this point.

Aerion’s familiar smell in the room made you close your eyes, while your fingers teased your clit, then slide between your folds. Imagining what it would be like if it was his fingers instead, or even his tongue, anything.

You slipped one finger inside of yourself, moving slowly, then slipping inside a second. A moan leaving your pretty lips.

This felt good, but no where near to what your body ached for. You have touched yourself multiple times recently, trying to numb to ache for Aerion. But it never lasted.

You laid back on the bed fully, legs spread, knees up, fingers moving inside of you.

Unaware that the very man who made you feel like this, came to his chambers. Wondering what he was hearing inside.

Aerion opened the door and spotted you like that, a mess on his bed, in his chambers. Like an early gift.

He closed the door quietly and walked over, watching you at first. Before he saw enough.

“Having fun are we?” He sounded as if to mock you

You nearly yelped out loud at the sudden voice.

Your finger pulled out and you sat up faster than anyone could blink. Your cheeks flushed.

“Aerion.. I..” you tried to say something, anything, but it was no use

“I, think you should do something. Since you want to come into my chambers and pleasure yourself,” he sighed

“You might as well pleasure yourself for me to watch.” He continued his words

Then he pulled his long knife out and stepped closer to the bed, stabbing the blade into the mattress.

You almost jumped at the sudden action. A soft whimper leaving your lips.

Aerion noticed the mixture of fear and desire in your whimper and in your eyes.

His dick now pushing against the fabric of his pants.

“I want you to ride it.” He ordered

You should have run off or something, but instead your pussy basically quivered and ached to feel something inside of you.

So you didn’t deny him. You wanted to see how it felt.

You felt nervous but moved, holding your dress up only slightly. It would definitely cover his view, so you shouldn’t have been so shocked when he calmly spoke another order.

“Remove it.” Aerion pointed at your dress

Aerion watched as you managed to slip your dress off slowly. Painfully slow. It was your only way of teasing him in such a moment.

Once off he nodded, watching. Ready to watch you ride his knife. And he would definitely enjoy it, like the sick and twisted man he is.

You gulped at the sight. Your inner muscles clenched with anticipation.

You took in the sight of the thick, rounded tip of the handle. Wondering if that would even fit.

Aerion watched you, your eyes glanced up at him, seeing the look in his eyes and giving in.

You kneeled, then spread your legs further apart.

The rounded tip of the knife handle pressed against your folds, just shy of your entrance. You shifted forward enough that you were properly lined up.

You took a deep breath in and then lowered yourself onto it. It was cold. Making your walls clench tighter, expecting warmth. A whimper leaving your mouth.

Trying to adjust to the new feeling and size.

Slowly you pushed yourself down, taking it in until you nearly reached the bottom of the handle. Stopping there.

You let out a shaky breath as you adjusted to the full length and size inside of you.

You rolled your hips forward, moaning at the feeling.

Aerion watched, he was aching at the sight.

He pulled his clothing low enough to free himself, wrapping his own hand around his shaft.

Aerion stroked himself as he watched you ride not just any knife, but his, on his mattress.

It was perfect in his eyes.

“Fucking ride it like a dragon..” he groaned

“Be the whore I know you are.” He breathed

Your hands moved onto the mattress. Your hips moving not only forward and backwards, but up and down the handle length, fast.

It felt so good. Even better with the view of him before you. Touching himself from the sight of you.

You moved backwards, your hands behind your back on the mattress, holding yourself up as your hips moved. Taking the knife in and out at a fast pace.

Until you noticed Aerion stop his hand movements and move to the ground. Right at the edge of the bed. It looked like he was going to touch the knife, but he didn’t.

Instead he moved his mouth, his long, tongue flicking over your clit. Making you moan his name out loud.

Your hips bucking forward even more. His lips around your clit, sucking, his tongue flicking over it, over and over again.

“Aerion, I’m gonna-“ you whimpered

“Not yet.” He said, the pressed his tongue flat against your clit

He denied the idea of you having an orgasm right now.

You managed to wait, slowing your movements until he basically slapped your thigh, making you moan and move faster once again.

His tongue came back to you, moving perfectly.

“Aerion please” you begged

You were so wet at the sight of him gazing up at you.

The walls of your pussy squeezed around the handle, your orgasm not able to hold back any longer.

The mixture of your hips moving, the handle deep inside of you, his tongue and mouth on you. There was no way you could hold back anymore.

You let out a shaky breath and then a moan as your orgasm finally came crashing down.

Aerion watched you come undone, he looked pleased and turned on by the sight. Until he stood up and sighed.

“Not listening are we?” Aerion tilted his head for a moment

You froze at his words.

He stood right in front of you and he gripped onto your neck, his fingers tight around it.

His lips inches from mine as he leaned down.

Then without warnings our lips collided.

This was definitely not the end of this night.

Draco Malfoy

Studying for your class had never been harder. You were on the verge of failing the class entirely, and it really didn’t help that Draco was sitting right beside you, constantly taking loud, snide jabs at Potter.

"Oi, Potter," Draco sneered, leaning across the aisle just enough for his voice to carry. "Surprised you managed to find the classroom without Granger holding your hand. Or did you get lost on the stairs again?"

Harry snapped, turning around in his seat with a scowl. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy. At least I don't need my father to buy my way into every room I walk into."

"Watch your tone, Potter," Draco hissed, his grey eyes narrowing. "You think you're untouchable just because the Daily Prophet treats you like some sort of tragic hero? You're a menace."

"And you're a pathetic git," Harry shot back, his knuckles turning white around his quill.

"Can you all just pipe down?!" you snapped, finally hitting your limit. You glared fiercely at the two of them. "Are we not in here for our class?"

Harry instantly looked struck, a flash of guilt crossing his face as he looked away. Draco, however, just stared at you, his mouth agape in sheer shock that someone had actually dared to talk down to him.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache brewing.

The professor strode into the room not long after, forcing the class to finally settle down. Still, the ambient whispering didn't stop. Eyes kept darting your way, the rest of the students completely staggered by your sheer audacity to yell at two of the school's most notorious boys.

With an irritated scowl, you furiously scribbled notes, pressing down so hard you nearly snapped the nib of your quill. Your neck was stiff and aching from constantly jerking your head back and forth between the blackboard and your parchment, trying desperately to catch up on everything you'd missed during the row.

The moment the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, you packed up your things with unnecessary force. Before leaving, you threw a blistering glare at the two boys. Deep down, you knew your grades weren't entirely their fault, but right now, you blamed them completely. You were thoroughly vexed. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you stormed out of the classroom without a single word, your boots clicking loudly against the stone floor as you stomped down the corridor.

he's uncomfortable because he's not used to being in trouble

has no idea what to do when you give him a bad look much more raise your voice

he's not the type to apologize

he gives gifts instead

he will keep giving gifts about whatever you got mad about and talk to you more until you forgive him

Blaise Zabini

A sharp knock sounded at your door, and you knew instantly who it was.

The moment you swung the door open, Blaise strode right past you into your room. Without a word of explanation, he snatched up the parchment and essays you had been working on from your desk, turned around, and scooped you clean off your feet.

"W-what on earth—Blaise! Put me down this instant!" you cried, kicking your legs and struggling against his chest.

"I am incredibly sorry I didn't send a message about the extra Quidditch practice," Blaise murmured smoothly, effortlessly carrying you out into the corridor. "Tell you what—I’ll look over the research and help you finish the essay over at the Three Broomsticks. My treat, completely."

You stopped thrashing against him, though your arms remained tightly crossed over your chest, a deep scowl firmly fixed on your face.

"I truly didn't mean to stand you up, love," Blaise added, his voice dropping to a softer, reassuring tone as he looked down at you. "I'll do the rest of paper work, and whatever else you need me to do to make it up to you."

"I am going to order absolutely everything on the menu while you do that entire essay by yourself," you threatened, huffing as you gave his back a firm, reprimanding swat. "And you are paying every single Knut of my tab."

"Yes, ma'am," Blaise chuckled, a brilliant, lazy smirk flashing across his handsome face as he finally set your feet back down on the stone floor.

He's the most normal

doesnt need theatrics for forgiveness he knows you and he knows you care about everyone you'd forgive them if they're sincere

he knows how to handle you and can handle you

he had an excuse to take you on a date and took it

he felt bad you worked on majority of the paper that will cost both your grades him treating you out was not his theatrics

Theodore Nott

A series of hurried, frantic knocks echoed through your dormitory. You frowned, knowing exactly who it was before you even crossed the room.

Stomping over to the door, you wrenched it open and glared fiercely at Theodore Nott.

"What do you want?" you demanded, crossing your arms.

Theo cleared his throat, adjusting his robes before giving you a remarkably grand, sweeping bow. "I am well aware of how much you adore the Muggle world and their peculiar culture. Therefore, I have taken inspiration from their finest customs to formulate my apology."

You blinked, utterly baffled as to why he was bringing up such a random fact at your doorstep.

"Muffliato! " Theo cast quickly, pointing his wand at the corridor to ensure privacy. He then snapped his fingers. "Enzo, hit it!"

Lorenzo Berkshire strolled out from around the corner, hoisting an enormous, clunky Muggle boombox onto his shoulder while peering through the viewfinder of a video camera. A loud, incredibly cheesy Muggle pop song about saying sorry began to blast from the speakers.

Right there in the middle of the corridor, Theodore began to dance. You had absolutely no idea how he had conceived this ridiculous plan, or where on earth he had learned those absurd steps, but his straight-faced seriousness made it ten times worse.

A burst of laughter escaped your lips; you couldn't hold it back if you tried.

"Theo, stop it!" you giggled, leaning against the doorframe.

With a dramatic flourish, Theo dropped to his knees, bowing his head sharply and raising his hands above him like a defeated knight offering a trophy. Resting in his palms was your barrette.

"Reparo wasn't working on the clasp—I reckon there's some sort of stubborn charm on it," Theo explained from the floor, completely breathless. "But I learned how Muggles fix these things manually, with a bit of wire and sheer willpower. I fixed it myself. Look, I truly am sorry for messing about with your things and breaking it."

You took the repaired barrette from his hands, the lingering annoyance completely melting away. You smiled down at him. "Come on, then. Put it in my hair?"

Theodore beamed, his eyes lighting up as he scrambled excitedly to his feet. He took the clip, gently securing it back into your hair with surprising care.

Once he was finished, he reached into his robes, pulled out a heavy velvet pouch—which clinked loudly with what you assumed were Galleons—and tossed it over to Lorenzo.

Enzo caught the pouch with a grin, lowering the camera. "Brilliant," he smirked, turning on his heel. "I'm off to show this video to the entire common room."

he's scared but not of you more like what you might do (ignore him, cut him off, blah blah)

He thinks muggles are your favorite culture (it is you tell him about everything you find out about them)

he is always over the top with his apologies because he doesnt know how

he learned his apologies from rom coms you watched together

he was supposed to serenade you like the movies but he recently watched a dancing movie with you and chose to dance instead

Theodore and Lorenzo usually bribe each other for favors

he's very childish with his apologies

he may or may not just want to make you laugh

Tom Riddle

The corridor was nearly deserted, save for two students whispering at the far end, when you spotted Tom standing before a glass display trophy cabinet.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle III!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the stone walls as you marched fiercely toward him, completely ignoring the middle name he despised.

A terrifying aura seemed to shift around him as he turned. His glare was sharp enough to cut glass, but the moment his eyes landed on you, his murderous expression faltered, twisting instead into sheer, irritated confusion.

"YN," he replied coldly, slipping his hands into his robes pockets.

"We had a deal! No secrets!" you fumed, stopping right in front of him, your chest heaving with anger. "Why on earth did you hide the fact that you’re still meeting with them? With those... You know what. You swear blind that you're just studying, and then I find out you're sneaking off into the dungeons to play dark lord with your father's little cult! You look me in the eye and lie to me, Tom, and I am absolutely sick of it! Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? How reckless?"

Tom didn't utter a single sound. He didn't blink. He simply stared down his nose at you, his face a flawless mask of detachment. Then, without a word of defense, he stepped to the side, brushed past you, and began to walk away, leaving you completely baffled.

"What on earth? Tom!" you cried out, spinning around.

Tom paused. He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes flashing with the coldest glare you had ever seen—at least, the coldest he had ever directed at you.

"You do not yell at me. Especially not in public," he said, his tone quiet, precise, and utterly lethal. "If you intend to continue making a scene and throwing an emotional tantrum, I shall remove myself from the situation. When you have calmed yourself down, you may message me. Until then, do not follow me."

He turned on his heel and walked away, his dark robes billowing slightly behind him.

never raise your voice at him

he's pissed off

you can't scold or get mad at him

he's the type to walk out and not talk to you when you're mad

not because he doesn't respect you its just he thinks he will say (or worse do) something bad if he gets mad at you

will try his best to calm down when youre mad at him

he will approach you when you want to talk calmly rather than enraged

he will make the first move always because he knows he shouldn't walk out but he just hates heat of the moment arguments

he will message you every 30 minutes asking if you've calmed down or if you're ready to talk

will be more affectionate when you're calmer because he knows he shouldn't have walked away

Mattheo Riddle

"Mattheo! I told you to stop it with the bloody fights!" you cried, your voice echoing sharply down the deserted corridor. "Are you actively trying to get expelled?! Do my words just mean absolutely nothing to you anymore? You—"

Your voice fell short, the words dying in your throat as Mattheo stepped forward with terrifying speed. His hand slammed against the cold stone wall right beside your ear, the force of it pinning you completely in place.

"Can you perhaps not yell at me, gorgeous?" he murmured. A slow, lazy smile spread across his handsome face, but there was a brilliant, dangerous glint in his dark eyes that made your chest tighten with adrenaline.

Your breath caught completely.

His expression softened, just a fraction, as he reached up to gently twine a strand of your hair around his fingers, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against the crown of your head. "I am sorry about the row," he whispered, his rough voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But the gits pissed me off. They were speaking about you."

Slowly, he reached down and took your hand, guiding your palm up until it was pressed flat against his cheek, leaning into your touch like a man starved. "Don't look at me like that, baby. I'm sorry. Don't be frightened of me."

Hearing the slight, hidden desperation in his voice, you let out a long, defeated sigh, your tense shoulders finally beginning to relax against the wall.

"Stop getting into fights," you muttered, throwing a firm, warning glare up at him, though the anger had mostly melted away.

Mattheo turned his head slightly, pressing a soft, reverent kiss into the palm of your hand before nodding. His dark eyes locked onto yours, full of a fierce, unhinged devotion.

"Anything my darling wishes, I shall fulfill," he promised smoothly.

For now, at least.

doesnt like being yelled at

He's literally Tom but barely restrained

when he realizes youre scared he becomes more affectionate (but kinda comes off possessive)

he tries but fails to keep his emotions in check

he's actually sorry about this he hates getting you upset but he never had to deal with caring about whether someone is upset so he doesnt know how to deal with it

he will repeat it again yes but he will try his best to avoid it

riddles are not green flags in these moments

Lorenzo Berkshire

"Lorenzo Ber—"

Before you could even finish shouting his full name across the boys' dormitory, Lorenzo dropped straight to his knees right in front of you, snatching your hand in his.

"I apologize unreservedly for everything and anything wrong I have ever done," he pleaded, looking up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "Please forgive my utter impudence, princess. I meant absolutely no ill by my actions—I wouldn’t dare dream of upsetting you!"

Before you could even process his sudden theatrics, Theodore slipped up behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and began to massage them, trying to knead away your tension.

"Whatever’s gone wrong, it definitely wasn’t Enzo’s fault, pretty girl," Theo chimed in smoothly, his voice a soothing purr. "Just look at him. He’s completely pitiful right now, isn’t he? Does that face look like it belongs to someone who would willingly cause you a moment's grief?"

You looked down, utterly bewildered. True to Theo's words, Lorenzo was staring up at you with a remarkably convincing expression of pure, tragic regret.

"You don't even know what—"

"You stormed in here ready to use his full government name," Blaise scoffed from across the room. He was lounging back in an armchair, smirking as he watched the spectacle unfold. "All that git needs to know is that you're cross with him, and he instantly reverts into a groveling puppy."

"It’s true!" Lorenzo insisted, squeezing your hand tightly. "I am a humbled servant at your mercy, Y/N. If I’ve ruined your day, I shall never forgive myself. Tell me how to make amends! Do you want me to nick some tarts from the kitchens? Prank a Gryffindor?"

"See? He’s willing to risk detention for life just to see you smile," Theo added, his hands still working on your shoulders as he leaned in close. "Cut the bloke some slack, yeah? He’s practically trembling."

You let out a loud, defeated groan, finally giving up. Shrugging Theo’s hands off your shoulders, you yanked your hand away from Lorenzo and pulled him back up to his feet. Exhausted by their absolute nonsense, you threw yourself backward, crashing onto his neatly made four-poster bed.

"Never mind," you muttered into the mattress.

he never lets you get upset

hed beg for forgiveness before you could even let him know you were

Lorenzo gave Theodore a few galleons when you crashed to his bed

he was sincere with his apologies and so was his groveling puppy bit

Pansy Parkinson

Walking back to your dormitory after the final lesson of the day, you froze. Someone was slumped against the stone wall right next to your door, their face buried deeply in a bundle of black cloth that they were clutching like a lifeline.

They must have caught the sound of your approaching footsteps, because they slowly lifted their head.

It was Pansy. Your breath hitched. Her eyes and the tip of her nose were a raw, angry red, and her lips trembled the moment she saw you. Her grip on the fabric—which you now realized was your spare school robes—tightened until her knuckles turned white.

You were still deeply upset with her, but seeing her look so utterly broken made your stomach twist. A conflicted wave of emotion washed over you.

"Y/N..." she whimpered, her voice cracking. "I’m so sorry..."

She wasn't actively crying anymore. Looking at how flushed and puffy her face was, it looked as though she had simply cried herself completely dry before you arrived.

With shaking hands, she reached upward, holding out your robes to you like a peace offering.

"I'm so sorry, please don't hate me," she sniffled, her usual proud voice reduced to a desperate plea. "I'll stay away from your things. I won't even come near your room, I swear it! Just... please don't hate me. Don't stop being my friend..."

You let out a long, defeated sigh, the last of your anger evaporating. You took the robes from her hands and reached down, gently pulling her up from the cold stone floor.

"I wouldn't stop being your friend over something like this, Pans. Don't be daft," you cooed softly, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. "We're alright. I promise."

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled against your shoulder, burying her face into your neck.

You held her close, pressing a comforting kiss to her temple. "We're okay. Come on, let's get you inside out of the corridor."

She was scared

she tried approaching you in your class but got scared

she saw how you were smiling and she thought youd never do that around her anymore because of what she did

she confided to blaise and draco (who scared her saying you hate her making her cry on the way to your dorm)

you're her only friend (in her mind she thinks the others were just because of their family connections) so she was absolutely scared of losing you

Masterlist

Hiii I wasnt expecting a request I got so excited about it I hope it was what you're looking for

I didn't know how to do it. i was going to do a more written version to show how angry you actually were but it was gonna get repetitive and feel too long if they were all written so i had some text

I added some personal notes on the end of each to tell more about how they are

the Riddles were my favorite to write because i like the idea I had of them I was gonna write Tom worse but I felt like he'd be more composed with my story

Side Quests are only for requests I dont think I'd write any on my own so if you liked these you can send an ask or a message or whatever I'm down for request i love getting interactions from you guys <3

thank you for your support guys ily all

-kookiedough

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Facts And Infos

Tom is a year older than Mattheo but theyre in the same year as he didnt want to leave his brother alone when he got his letter

Tom is the most popular for both good and bad reasons he's very two faced

Mattheo is popular because theyre afraid of him only masochists wants him

Pansy makes a lot of money by selling their number

they love to bully Draco and Mattheo (usually Draco hes also the fall guy as the youngest of the group)

Blaise keeps track of Amorentia scent of the gang every year (rarely gives accurate information)

When Tom gets angry he usually transfigures them but he was particularly embarrassed as this one so he cursed the two

Tom is the only one that the teachers adore in the group

Blaise is Tom's favorite in the group

there's way too many Tom facts in this list as he's my favourite

Mattheo and Tom have a love hate relationship they dont like each other much but would kill for each other

Malfoy is the richest of the group so they usually make him do errands or make him buy shit

Lorenzo is usually either too much or too less so he's not really that talkative

They have different class schedules

Draco and Mattheo share "Care For Magical Creatures" • Draco and Pansy share "Potions" Draco and Lorenzo share "Alchemy" Pansy and Theodore share "Arithmancy" Pansy, Mattheo and Theodore share "Astronomy" Blaise and Theodore share "Defense Against Dark Arts" • Blaise, Draco and Pansy share "Charms" Tom and Blaise share "Potions" Tom and Mattheo share "Divination" • Tom and Draco share "Transfiguration" Tom and Lorenzo share "History of Magic" Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theodore share "Muggle Studies"

Tom is the dad of the group (zabini is the mom) professors would call him if someone in his group skips class (it happens often) things dont end well for the class skipper

The timeline here is:

Tom and Mattheo are son of Voldemort (Tom Riddle II) Harry Potter things still happened No more Voldemort tho so like after he did Harry he just gone now leaving his kids orphaned People loves Tom despite his parents and his namesake because he's very persuasive and manipulative

The group hates the golden trio

people prefer the riddles over harry despite the stories

Your profile isnt here because it wouldnt matter much :3

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