sad song enthusiast

No one dared ask why the manor was free. Conversations meant lines drawn, and there seemed to be a silent, almost diplomatic agreement, that there would be one last night. One last party together before it all came out; before opinions differed and friends turned into chess pieces. It had been weighing on Mattheo hard, and though the two of you never spoke about it, you knew what was to come.

“I need you to know something,” He had spoke from beside you earlier in the evening. The two of you standing atop the lower balcony, sun spilling gold across the Highlands surrounding you. He didn’t dare look at you while he said it, only let his elbow graze yours. It was as though he was preparing himself, for some kind of absence. 

“No matter what happens across the next few months, I’m right here. Right here in this moment. Standing beside you, watching the sunset.” You could feel him drinking it in as he said it. Studying the snowed in hills and the gold and the pattern of your breath.  His name left your lips, voice cracking a moment as he stole his eyes from the sun to collect himself. “I am good. I need you to remember it, to promise me that you will.”

You searched his face, willing him to turn to you. But he only kept his eyes on the sunset ahead. Tears welling, you let your gaze sink to the snow covered grass ahead of you. Breath pooling in the air as you let your mind wander to the coming months, what your life might be without him. He was saying goodbye. And what he would do would shatter you, that much you knew. But you needed one another, and quite frankly he had you, every part of you. Which was why you couldn’t help but say it. 

“I promise, of course I promise.”

But now the lights were dimmed in Berkshire manor, the air lilted with drunk laughter. Milli and Blaise were slow dancing in front of the fire place, dipping and spinning like a pair of newborn deer. Draco, Astoria and Enzo falling all over one another on the couch as they fought over a book of childhood pictures. 

Theo was sitting on the floor with Pansy and Daphne playing charmed cards. You and Mattheo tucked beside them near the fireplace. Matt watching you giggle as you played a card, making half of Daphne’s hand disintegrate in her palm as she yelped in surprise. 

He let himself take this moment to be selfish. To watch your smile catch the light of the fire, drink in the scent of your hair as he leant into the crook of your neck, glancing at your hand. Arm looped casually around your back, letting your warmth soak into his skin. 

You were everything to him, and it killed him not to be able to tell you. To barely even let himself feel it out of fear of the admission; its consequences for you. But for tonight, he told himself he would. He and Draco had agreed, tonight would be the last. It could have been called mutually assured destruction, if its sole purpose hadn’t been keeping you safe. 

The high of your win carried you both down the hall, laughing as he pressed you into the cold stone of the wall. Lips barely touching as your arms curled around him. Cheeks alight under the flickering of the candles that lined the high ceilings. 

His head dipped down, lips trailing your collar, arms circling the small of your back. Mattheo closed his eyes, dragging his mouth from your collarbone, up the slope of your neck, beneath your jaw. He relished in the deep pulse of your breath, the way it travelled through your bones and into his own. He wanted to be closer, as close as he could be. Maybe then his body would memorise you.

“Why didn’t you have any?” You asked, the bathroom sink cold beneath you as he lifted you atop it. His thumb swiping at the powder that had fallen above your lip.

“I wanted to be here with you, is that okay?” He returned, a soft and rare smile gracing him.

Then you nodded. 

And his hands were pushing up the edges of your silk skirt, running over the skin there methodically. Moving from your thighs to your hips, the curve of your waist. Breath catching from the bridge between your lips, as though you were sucking it out of him. 

You whined, breathing your pleas into his jaw. Hands splayed across his chest, gripping his starched, white shirt as your need for him grew. He answered you, sliding his hands beneath the edges of your underwear that hung on your hips. Taking his time to feel their shape beneath his palms before he drew the delicate fabric down. Kneeling before you as his lips joined his hands; traversing your thighs, kissing the tops of your knees. Mouth dragging across your shins, he sank to his knees at your ankles. Dark, desperate eyes rising to meet yours.

“I love you, you know.” It hit you softly, drawn out as your clouded mind tried to soak it all in. 

You couldn’t speak, could barely return his words with a nod. You didn’t have to say them back, it wouldn’t change that he meant them. But you did, as your hands curled through his unkempt hair, his lips raising against yours once again, you told him. He didn’t stop telling you, not as he pushed himself into you. The roll of his hips against yours pushing out any lingering thoughts of your earlier conversation. Only able to keep yourself there; Mattheo’s arms holding you steady, his lips grazing the back of your neck as you furled into him. 

Breaths growing uneven, he picked up his pace. Grunting as he reached a place within you that had you writhing in his arms. He smirked, satisfied at how well he knew your body. Keeping you still as he held you impossibly tighter to him. Right now, he was the only one who knew you like this, and in his mind that was how it would stay.

“I think you should see how beautiful you are like this.” He murmured, leaning his lips against your ear before he had you turned around. The mirror in front of you reflecting the dim orange glow off of the muscles of his shoulders. He had his arm wrapped around your middle, veins trying to burst from beneath the skin. Hand resting just below your navel, feeling himself within you with each movement of his hips. 

Despite the possessiveness of his touch, there was a sweetness in his gaze. One that made you feel higher than you were, that made you beg him for more even after you thought you couldn’t take it again. 

Your skin was slick, the temperature in the bathroom more akin to that of Summer than the snow outside. He held you up as he came, his fingers joining in as he pushed you over the edge along with him. Bodies shaking feverishly as you breathed him in and he kissed his way up your neck again. He knew you would get better, knew exactly who would help you get there. But for now you were still his alone.

And whilst the moon disappeared behind a spray of clouds, Mattheo made his way to the edge of Berkshire Manor with Draco. Footprints falling deep into the snow as he let himself fall too; into you completely for the very first time. Glad that you were asleep upstairs, wrapped in his old Quidditch jumper. And as they reached the border the messenger arrived, Enzo answering the door his face falling. 

Mattheo told himself he would watch. That he owed it to them to know exactly the pain he would be causing the ones he left behind. But as the masked figure retreated, and Enzo was left stuck in the doorway, Mattheo turned away. Trailing after Draco as the snow set in, until they reached the forest and all that remained from where they had been was the end of a wand and a ball of bright, white light. 

Mattheo longed to turn around, go back the way he came. But he wasn’t sure which way that was exactly, or what lay waiting for him there. There was laughter, the warmth of a smile maybe. He couldn’t quite grasp it, the absence of something all throughout him. And as he and Draco apparated into Malfoy Manor, Mattheo wiped his frozen cheek, confused when his fingers came back with a stray tear. 

He looked to Draco’s eyes and knew that they were different. That whatever had been stolen from Draco, was missing from himself too. His seemed to be pulled down the snow speckled path to the looming manor, and with each step, Matt began to forget. The laughter, the flickering of candles, the warmth of someone’s smile, the feeling of skin beneath his fingertips; untouched by anyone else. He crossed under the door to the manor, and all he felt was cold.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝