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“I love it, I hate it, and I can't take it, but I keep on coming back to you."
word count: 5,685.
summary: after a rough morning and a very stubborn recovery plan, you and enzo fall right back into your familiar rhythm of teasing, bickering, and pretending nothing has changed. meanwhile, a girls’ night full of cocktails, chaos, and questionable relationship advice leaves you wondering if there’s more behind all the banter than you’d like to admit.
author’s note: well folks enjoy this silly little chapter because things are about to kick off after this. so excited for you guys to read the upcoming chapters. they were truly the most fun to write.
♫ back to you - louis tomlinson (feat. bebe rexha). nav. chapters. more enzo.
Day 5
Villa Elysia — Paros, Greece
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that your head no longer felt like it was being split apart from the inside.
The second was the emptiness beside you.
For a moment, you simply stared at the ceiling while sunlight filtered through the curtains. The room was quiet except for the distant sound of waves crashing somewhere below the villa.
Slowly, memories began surfacing.
A catamaran.
A fever.
Someone brushing your hair back from your face.
You frowned.
The last one felt too specific to be something your fever had invented.
Fragments drifted through your mind in no particular order. A hand against your forehead. A soft voice calling you little raven. The feeling of being held against someone’s chest while exhaustion dragged you under.
Your stomach dropped.
“Oh no.”
Surely not.
You buried your face in the pillow.
There was absolutely no chance Lorenzo Berkshire had spent the entire afternoon taking care of you. Your fever had probably manufactured the entire thing out of loneliness, dehydration, and poor decision making.
The door opened without warning.
"Finally," Enzo said, sounding far too pleased with himself. "I was beginning to think Sleeping Beauty planned on wasting the entire day."
You sat upright, blinking at him as he walked into the room carrying a tray full of food like he belonged there. He didn't even hesitate, simply crossed the room and set it down beside you before looking you over with quiet satisfaction, apparently relieved to find you awake.
Your heart performed an unnecessarily dramatic cartwheel at the sight of him.
Which was deeply inconvenient considering all you could think about was your back pressed against the stone wall, his hand beneath your dress, and the desperation in his voice as he'd whispered against your lips.
Tell me how good I am for you, love.
You blinked away the traitorous thought only to find Enzo staring at you with open concern.
“You’re awake.”
His gaze swept over you quickly before something in his expression relaxed.
“You look better.”
You stared at him. He stared back, and the silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.
Unfortunately, your brain immediately abandoned all self-preservation.
“So.”
One of his eyebrows lifted slightly.
“So?”
You folded your arms across your chest.
“Did I hallucinate this morning?”
A grin appeared instantly, and the sight of it immediately filled you with dread.
The insufferable git.
“Do you often hallucinate about me?”
You narrowed your eyes.
“Only when I fantasize about murdering you with my bare hands.”
His smile widened.
“All I heard was that you fantasize about me.”
"What exactly happened?"
"Are you sure you want to know, love?"
Heat crawled up your neck as several possibilities flashed through your mind, each somehow more horrifying than the last.
“Lorenzo.”
“What?” he asked innocently. “There were a lot of memorable moments.”
You wanted to throw something at him. Unfortunately, most of your attention was currently focused on the fact that he looked annoyingly attractive standing there, which felt deeply unfair given the circumstances.
“Please tell me I didn’t say anything embarrassing.”
His expression became far too innocent as he leaned against the doorframe.
“I’d never betray your confidence, sweetheart.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
The grin that spread across his face told you everything you needed to know, and you immediately groaned, burying your face in your hands.
“This is a nightmare.”
Despite this, you found yourself relaxing. This—the constant back and forth, the teasing and bickering—was familiar. You fell into the routine easily, slipping back into something that felt dangerously comfortable while avoiding the memory of the terrace with practiced precision.
Tell me how good I am for you, love.
You hated how easily the memory came back.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
The words caught you off guard enough that you looked up immediately. His gaze was fixed on you with a seriousness that made something uncomfortable flutter in your chest, and for a moment neither of you said anything at all.
“I’m fine.”
Enzo looked unconvinced, eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze swept over you again.
“Why are you dressed?”
You blinked at him.
“What?”
“And wearing makeup.”
Your hand immediately flew to your face before you rolled your eyes.
“Excellent observation.”
“I’m being serious.”
A frown tugged at your expression as you lowered your hand.
“Excuse me?”
Enzo pushed away from the doorframe and folded his arm across his chest.
“Where are you going?”
It took a second for the question to register before realization settled in. The moment it did, annoyance followed close behind.
“Girl’s night.”
His expression flattened instantly.
“No.”
You stared at him, waiting for the punchline.
“No?”
“No.”
A laugh escaped before you could stop it, though Enzo remained entirely serious.
“You were unconscious a few hours ago.”
“Briefly.”
“You fainted.”
“I recovered.”
“You threw up.”
You pointed at him accusingly.
“That feels unnecessary.”
“It happened.”
“I was there.”
“Exactly.” His arms folded across his chest as he fixed you with a look. “You nearly gave everyone a collective heart attack.”
You rolled your eyes and swung your legs off the bed.
“I had heat exhaustion, Lorenzo. I didn’t survive a near-death experience.”
“You looked pretty committed to the bit.”
A laugh escaped before you could stop it, and for a brief moment his expression softened as though he was fighting one of his own. Unfortunately, the moment disappeared almost immediately.
“You’re staying here.”
You stared at him in disbelief.
“Are you under the impression that you have any say in this?”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m under the impression you have the survival instincts of an unsupervised toddler.”
Shaking your head, you pushed yourself to your feet and brushed past him toward the mirror, pretending not to notice the way his eyes followed you.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
His expression flattened further as he folded his arms across his chest.
“Y/N.”
“Lorenzo.”
The use of his full name earned a look, and you rewarded it with the sweetest smile you could manage. Unfortunately for you, Enzo knew that smile far too well.
“You are unbelievably stubborn.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
For a moment, neither of you backed down, each waiting for the other to give in first.
Eventually, Enzo let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. The gesture looked alarmingly familiar, and after a second, you realized why.
You’d seen Hermione do the exact same thing hundreds of times.
“Oh, Merlin.”
“What?”
A grin spread across your face.
“You’re turning into Hermione.”
His look of horror was immediate, which only made you laugh harder.
“Take that back.”
“Never.”
“Take it back.”
“You just lectured me like a child.”
“I was concerned.”
“You mothered me exactly how Mione would.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
The betrayal on his face only made you laugh harder, and for a moment he stared at you like he was questioning every life choice that had led him here.
“Fine.”
You smiled immediately.
“Don’t worry mum,” you teased. “I promise to be careful.”
His eyes narrowed as though he was seriously considering physically carrying you back into bed and locking the door behind him. Instead, he let out another sigh before reaching for the pepperup potion sitting on the nightstand and pressing it into your hands.
“Drink this.”
You accepted it automatically, glancing down at the bottle before looking back up at him.
“Bossy.”
“Drink it.”
A small smile tugged at your mouth as you twisted the cap loose.
“Anything else?”
His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and the look in his eyes made something strange settle quietly between you. Neither of you seemed entirely sure what to do with it.
Then he cleared his throat and looked away first.
“Don’t stay out too late.”
His tone wasn’t as firm as it usually was when he was teasing you. It was quieter, more deliberate, like he actually meant it.
Your heart betrayed you immediately because somehow that sounded less like an order and more like concern.
“I’ll survive.”
“I know.”
His voice softened just enough to make your chest tighten.
“That’s the problem.”
For one brief second, neither of you moved, the air between you settling into something that felt strangely fragile.
“Thanks for taking care of me.”
Something in his expression softened, followed by a boyish grin that felt achingly familiar.
“I couldn’t very well let you perish, could I?” Enzo teased. “Who else would I fight with?”
You chuckled softly, and the sound of your laughter seemed to brighten his mood entirely. A knock sounded from downstairs, followed by Pansy’s voice echoing through the villa.
“Y/N!”
The moment shattered immediately.
You glanced toward the door before looking back at Enzo, a smile already tugging at your mouth.
“That’s my ride.”
Enzo rolled his eyes so hard it was honestly impressive.
“Salazar help me.”
Your grin widened as you stepped into the hallway.
He didn’t move immediately after you left.
Just stood there for a second longer than necessary, staring at the empty doorway like he was already regretting letting you go.
“See you later, mum!”
The horrified look on his face followed all the way downstairs.
For the first time since waking up, you stopped wondering whether you had imagined it all.
Day 5
Luna Blu — Paros, Greece
Luna Blu looked exactly like the sort of place Pansy Parkinson would choose for a girl’s night.
White stone walls glowed beneath strings of fairy lights while music drifted through the open-air terrace overlooking the sea. Every table seemed occupied by beautiful people drinking expensive cocktails and pretending they weren’t looking at one another.
Naturally, Pansy looked completely at home.
“This place is perfect.”
Astoria raised an eyebrow.
“You say that about every place with alcohol.”
“Have I ever steered you wrong?"
Several people laughed as the hostess led your group toward a long table overlooking the water.
As everyone settled into their seats, Ginny studied you from across the table with narrowed eyes.
“I can’t believe Berkshire actually let you come.”
“First of all, I don’t need Lorenzo’s permission given that I’m a grown witch,” you huffed. “Second of all, why is everyone acting like I’ve escaped from Azkaban?”
“Probably because your lunatic boyfriend looked ready to murder anyone who came within ten feet of you,” Pansy informed the table.
“To be fair,” Luna added thoughtfully, “you did collapse.”
“I fainted.”
“You collapsed elegantly.”
“Thank you?”
“You’re quite welcome.”
The table dissolved into laughter, and you shook your head as you reached for the menu.
“I would like everyone to know that I am completely recovered.”
Hermione’s expression suggested she found this claim highly suspicious.
“You were delirious.”
“Briefly.”
“You threw up.”
You pointed at her in disbelief.
“Why does everyone keep bringing that up?”
“Because you scared us half to death.”
“I lived purely out of spite.”
Ginny nearly choked on her drink.
“Merlin, you’ve spent too much time around Lorenzo.”
Heat immediately crept into your cheeks, which only seemed to make the situation worse.
Across the table, Pansy’s eyes narrowed with sudden interest as she leaned back in her chair.
“You know, he refused to leave your side all afternoon.”
You reached for your drink.
“He’s annoyingly persistent.”
“Or annoyingly in love.”
Your cheeks flushed a violent red as several people at the table immediately looked far too interested in that response.
Pansy’s smile widened.
The traitor.
A round of cocktails arrived a few minutes later, followed by enough appetizers to feed a small village. The conversation drifted naturally between wedding plans, travel stories, and increasingly ridiculous memories from Hogwarts.
Somewhere between the second round of drinks and Ginny’s reenactment of a particularly steamy encounter in the Room of Requirement with her now husband, everyone relaxed.
Even you.
Especially you.
For the first time since arriving in Greece, nobody was asking questions about Lorenzo.
Nobody was analyzing your feelings.
Nobody was looking at you with pity, concern, or frustrating amounts of understanding.
You could simply exist.
The realization felt surprisingly nice.
Several seats away, Luna was explaining why she once believed Cornish Pixies were secretly unionized while Hermione listened with the exhausted patience of someone who had long ago accepted certain realities about her life.
Pansy, meanwhile, had somehow started ranking every wedding guest according to attractiveness.
Ginny, much to everyone’s horror, was enthusiastically helping.
Neither of them appeared remotely ashamed.
“You two are absolutely shameless,” you informed them.
“We know.”
Pansy took a leisurely sip of her drink before glancing down at her list.
“Longbottom is currently winning.”
The entire table erupted.
“Neville?” Hermione looked genuinely surprised.
Pansy lowered her glass.
“Have you seen him lately?”
“Pansy’s right,” Ginny teased, wiggling her brows suggestively. “Nev’s grown proper fit over the years.”
Across the table, Daphne considered this for a moment before nodding.
“He is quite handsome.”
“Thank you,” Pansy said, pointing at her. “I feel validated.”
The laughter continued until tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.
By the time everyone had exhausted the topic of Neville’s unfair attractiveness, Pansy had already moved on to ranking the rest of the wedding guests.
"Draco is objectively handsome," she declared. "Unfortunately, I've known him too long."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said about him," Hermione observed.
"Don't get used to it."
Pansy took a sip of her drink before turning toward you.
"Alright then. Your turn."
You frowned.
"My turn for what?"
"Most attractive guest."
Several faces immediately swung in your direction.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Ginny said before you could answer. “She’s going to pick Lorenzo.”
Heat immediately crept into your cheeks. “I am not.”
Ginny rolled her eyes so hard it was honestly impressive.
“Please.”
You opened your mouth to argue before hesitating.
Because technically, there were other options. Theo was annoyingly handsome, Blaise looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine, and Neville had somehow become more attractive with age, which felt deeply unfair. Even Mattheo had that dangerous sort of charm that made poor decisions seem reasonable.
You considered all of them carefully before letting out a sigh.
The worst part was that Ginny was right.
You meant to argue, you really did, but your brain betrayed you before you could get the words out.
"Fine."
The table erupted instantly.
"Oh my god."
"I knew it."
"That took less time than I expected."
You buried your face in your hands.
"None of you are as funny as you think you are."
"So the sex is explosive..." Pansy pondered, looking entirely too interested.
"Obviously," Ginny declared confidently. "Have you seen them argue? I bet they've defiled every corner of that suite with absolutely no remorse."
For a moment, you were transported to a deeply traitorous memory.
Soft lips pressed against your own, hazel eyes burning holes into your skin, rough hands diligently working you towards release while a low, husky voice seduced you like a siren’s song.
Come for me, sweetheart.
Pansy cackled as your cheeks turned violently red.
“I fucking knew it!”
You buried your face into your hands in utter humiliation and groaned.
The laughter started all over again.
By the time dinner arrived, your stomach physically hurt from laughing.
You hadn't realized how much you'd needed that.
Across the table, Hermione noticed the smile lingering on your face and felt something in her chest loosen slightly.
For the first time all day, you looked genuinely happy. Not distracted by your thoughts, not confused by your feelings, and not carrying that quiet heartbreak she'd become far too familiar with over the years.
Just happy.
The sight was rarer than it should have been, and Hermione found herself hoping it would last.
The conversation started, as most dangerous conversations do, with something completely harmless.
Specifically, Ginny asking Hermione whether she was nervous about getting married.
Hermione looked up from her drink with the expression of someone who had just been asked whether she was nervous about breathing.
"No."
The entire table stared at her.
Pansy blinked.
"Really?"
Hermione frowned slightly.
"What?"
"You've spent the last year planning this wedding like you're coordinating a military operation."
"It has gone very well, thank you."
"You color-coded the seating chart."
"Organization is of the utmost importance."
"You made spreadsheets."
"There were multiple spreadsheets."
Ginny looked delighted.
"You threw a fit because the florist changed the shade of ivory."
Hermione pointed immediately.
"It was cream."
The entire table dissolved into laughter.
Several seats away, Daphne nearly choked on her drink while Luna looked genuinely fascinated by the distinction.
"I didn't know those were different colors."
Hermione looked horrified.
"Of course they're different colors."
Astoria leaned forward thoughtfully.
"She's absolutely right."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
Ginny raised her glass as though offering a toast.
"I support women, but you're all insane."
That earned another round of laughter, several people nodding in reluctant agreement while Hermione rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her wine.
Once the noise settled, Ginny shook her head and leaned forward.
"Fine. If you're not nervous, what's wrong with you?"
Hermione lowered her glass and blinked at her.
"Excuse me?"
"You're Hermione Granger. You're nervous about everything."
The table immediately nodded in agreement, which only seemed to deepen Hermione's offense. She looked around at all of them as though she'd been personally betrayed.
"I am not."
"You absolutely are," you informed her.
"You once had a panic attack because your essay was due at midnight and you submitted it at eleven fifty-three."
"It was late."
"It was seven minutes early."
"It was cutting it close."
A strangled noise escaped Daphne, and across the table, even Hermione seemed to realize she wasn't helping her case.
Eventually she sighed, setting down her glass before glancing out toward the sea. A small smile appeared on her face, softening her instantly in a way that made several people at the table pause.
"Fine."
The conversation quieted as Hermione traced her fingers lightly around the stem of her glass.
"Every other decision in my life has been difficult. University was difficult. My career was difficult. Picking a flat was difficult."
A faint laugh escaped her before she shook her head.
"Choosing Draco wasn't."
The table fell silent, not awkwardly, but with the kind of quiet that settled in when someone said something unexpectedly honest. Sometimes sincerity had a way of catching people off guard.
Hermione smiled into her wine, her expression softening in a way that it always did when she spoke of Draco.
"I just knew," she said simply. "I've never been more sure of anything."
For a moment, nobody spoke. The sincerity of it settled over the table before Ginny let out a dramatic sigh.
Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Oh, that's disgusting."
The spell broke immediately.
Hermione laughed, shaking her head before glancing around the table.
"What about everyone else?"
That, unfortunately, was where things started going wrong.
Astoria immediately launched into a story about Blaise filling her entire flat with her favorite flowers.
Pansy spent ten minutes explaining why attempting to flirt with Neville Longbottom required the patience of a saint.
Luna described love as the fuzzy feeling of a wrackspurt's song.
Nobody understood what that meant, including Luna herself.
The conversation continued for a while after that, drifting naturally from one relationship story to another until it eventually landed on Daphne. The shift was subtle enough that nobody seemed to notice where it was heading until Pansy paused halfway through her drink and looked across the table.
"Actually."
The single word was enough to make several people nervous.
Pansy's gaze settled directly on Daphne.
"Is it strange seeing your ex and his new girlfriend at a wedding?"
A collective groan immediately followed.
"Pansy."
"What?"
"You can't just ask people that."
"Why not?"
"Because it's rude."
Pansy looked genuinely unconvinced by that argument.
Across the table, Daphne laughed.
"No, it's alright."
Several people relaxed immediately.
Daphne swirled her drink thoughtfully before shrugging.
"Honestly, it's not weird."
A few eyebrows lifted around the table, and Ginny leaned forward slightly.
"Really?" she asked.
Daphne shook her head before taking another sip of her drink.
"Lorenzo and I were over long before the wedding."
"How long?" Pansy asked.
Daphne paused for a moment as she thought about it.
"The morning after Valentine's Day, actually."
The smile slipped from your face.
Three months ago.
The date surfaced instantly, bringing with it a rush of memories you hadn't expected. The train station, your return flight from Paris, and the tiny flat you'd unpacked that night all flashed through your mind at once.
It was the exact day you'd moved back to London.
Your stomach dropped as the date settled heavily in your chest.
Across the table, Hermione went completely still. The realization crossed her face so quickly it was almost frightening, her expression tightening as she connected the same impossible dots you had.
No.
This absolutely wasn't happening.
Daphne remained completely unaware of the chaos she'd just unleashed. She smiled softly into her drink and shrugged one shoulder.
"There really aren't any hard feelings."
The table fell unusually quiet, everyone seeming unsure how to respond to that. Eventually, Ginny cleared her throat.
"He broke up with you?"
Daphne nodded.
"Yeah."
Another brief silence followed. Nobody seemed to know what to say to that, but Daphne looked entirely at peace with it.
"I wasn't surprised."
You lowered your gaze to your glass, suddenly far too aware of the pounding of your own pulse. Across the table, Hermione's eyes flicked toward you, then back to Daphne before returning to you again, and you watched panic begin to bloom behind them.
"It sounds strange now," Daphne admitted softly. "But I think part of me knew for a while."
The noise of the restaurant seemed to fade slightly.
You swallowed against the sudden tightness in your throat as Daphne offered a faint smile.
"He tried, honestly. We both did." A small smile touched her lips. "Sometimes things just don't work out."
Her gaze drifted toward the sea, lingering on the dark water beyond the terrace lights.
"I think he just wanted something else."
Nobody spoke after that. Somehow everyone seemed to understand there wasn't anything left to say.
A strange pressure had settled inside your chest, making the air feel warmer and the music louder. The restaurant suddenly seemed much smaller than it had a few moments ago.
You pushed your chair back, and several heads turned immediately.
"I'm just going to get some air."
The excuse sounded weak even to your own ears, but thankfully nobody challenged it. At least, not out loud.
You offered what you hoped resembled a smile before turning toward the terrace and slipping through the doors.
The second you disappeared from view, Hermione pushed back her chair and rose to her feet.
Ginny blinked in surprise.
"Mione?"
Hermione was already reaching for her purse.
"I'll be right back."
Before anyone could ask another question, she was hurrying after you.
There was absolutely no chance that timing was a coincidence, and Hermione Granger had just realized something that was either incredibly romantic or an absolute disaster.
Possibly both.
The cool evening air did absolutely nothing to calm your nerves.
You stood outside Luna Blu overlooking the harbor below while music drifted faintly through the open doors behind you. The sea stretched endlessly into the darkness, glittering beneath the moonlight, and somehow even that felt less overwhelming than the conversation you'd just had inside.
Three months ago.
The date repeated itself over and over inside your head.
The day after Valentine's Day.
The exact day you'd moved back to London.
The exact day Enzo had broken up with Daphne.
Your stomach twisted.
The door behind you opened.
You didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Hermione appeared beside you a moment later, her heels clicking softly against the stone terrace before she came to a stop at your side.
For several seconds, neither of you spoke as the sound of the waves drifted up from the harbor below.
Then Hermione let out a long sigh and folded her arms across her chest.
"Oh, this is bad."
Your stomach immediately dropped.
"You noticed too?"
"Of course I noticed."
The answer came so quickly that it almost sounded offended.
Hermione shook her head.
"You moved back from Paris that day."
You turned your gaze back toward the water, watching the moonlight ripple across the surface.
"It's probably just a coincidence."
Hermione made a noise that suggested she would rather throw herself into the sea than entertain that theory.
"Right?"
You winced and looked back out toward the water, watching the moonlight ripple across the harbor.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence settled between you comfortably enough, but the longer it lasted, the heavier the truth felt sitting in your chest.
"It doesn't mean anything."
"No?" Hermione repeated incredulously. "Y/N, he ended a two-year relationship on the exact day you came home."
"You can't seriously think that's a coincidence."
"I can because Lorenzo and I aren't actually dating."
The words came out sharper than you intended.
Hermione blinked.
"What?"
You glanced down at your hands and laughed softly under your breath. For the first time all week, the truth felt less ridiculous than it did exhausting.
"Lorenzo and I aren't actually dating."
Hermione blinked, then stared at you as though she'd misheard.
"I'm sorry?"
You sighed and rubbed a hand over your face.
"We're not actually together."
For a moment, Hermione simply looked at you, waiting for the punchline that never came. When none arrived, her confusion only deepened.
You let out a quiet groan.
"The relationship is fake."
A heavy silence settled between you as Hermione tried to process that.
"What do you mean fake?"
You looked away toward the water.
Somehow admitting it out loud felt even more embarrassing than agreeing to it in the first place.
"It started as a way to make Daphne jealous."
Hermione stared.
"And also to stop you and Ginny from matchmaking."
Her mouth opened, then closed again as she stared at you in disbelief. For a moment, she looked completely incapable of processing what you'd just said.
"You're pretending to date Lorenzo to stop Ginny and me from setting you up with Mattheo?"
You sighed deeply.
"When you say it like that, it sounds stupid."
"Because it is stupid."
"I know."
Hermione looked physically pained as the realization worked its way through her brain in real time. You could practically see her connecting the dots, each one causing her a little more distress than the last.
"You've spent the last five days pretending to date the man who has been obsessed with you since school."
Your eyes widened immediately.
"He has not."
Hermione let out a laugh that echoed across the terrace, the sound carrying easily over the water. It wasn't a polite chuckle or an amused smile. It was the kind of laugh people made when they were watching someone refuse to see something obvious.
"You can't honestly be this oblivious."
You folded your arms across your chest.
"I'm not oblivious."
Hermione responded with a look that was painfully familiar, the same expression she usually reserved for Theo whenever he said something particularly ridiculous.
"You absolutely are."
Before you could argue, she was already reaching for her phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Gathering evidence."
"Hermione."
"Hush."
A moment later she turned the screen toward you.
The beach photograph from the volleyball tournament filled the screen. Everyone was crowded together in the sand, laughing and smiling while the sunset painted everything gold.
At first glance, it looked completely normal. Then your eyes landed on Enzo.
His arm was wrapped securely around your waist, his entire body angled toward yours as though he couldn't help it. And his gaze.
Your stomach dropped.
Because he wasn't looking at the camera. He wasn't looking at Theo, or Draco, or anyone else.
He was looking at you as though you were the only person in the photograph, his attention fixed entirely on you while everyone else faded into the background. It was the sort of look that made the rest of the world seem irrelevant, like nothing else existed beyond the space between the two of you.
Hermione didn’t say anything immediately.
She just watched your face instead of the photo.
"Oh."
Hermione's eyebrows lifted knowingly.
"Exactly."
You swallowed hard and forced yourself to keep staring at the screen.
"It's one picture."
"It's every picture."
You looked away, unable to hold her gaze any longer, and your pulse suddenly felt far too loud in the silence between you.
Because suddenly you were remembering a hundred other moments.
The harbor where he'd watched you instead of the view. The cat he had somehow convinced to like him simply because you liked it. The boat ride, the way he'd looked at you when you got sick, and the expression on his face before you'd pushed him away on the terrace.
Your stomach twisted.
It wasn't real.
It couldn't be.
You shook your head firmly, as though the motion alone could force the thought out of your mind.
Hermione looked exasperated.
"Does he know?"
"What?"
"That the relationship is fake."
You blinked.
"Obviously."
Hermione tilted her head slightly.
"Are you sure?"
The question landed harder than it should have, and you found yourself frowning as you looked away.
"Of course he does."
Hermione's expression suggested she wasn't convinced, not even a little.
"There is absolutely nothing fake about the way that man looks at you."
Your heart stumbled at the certainty in her voice, and for a moment neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you until guilt began creeping in, settling heavily in your chest.
You groaned and buried your face in your hands.
"I'm sorry, Mione."
Her expression softened immediately.
"For what?"
"This."
You gestured vaguely toward the villa, the wedding, Greece, all of it before letting out a frustrated laugh.
"The mess we caused."
The words came out quieter than you'd intended.
You looked down at your hands and picked at a nonexistent thread on your dress.
"I never meant for any of this to happen."
Hermione's expression softened immediately.
The amusement disappeared, replaced by something gentler.
"Hey."
You finally looked up.
"I mean it," you said. "This week is supposed to be about you and Draco, and instead I've somehow turned it into a complete disaster."
A humorless laugh escaped you.
"Fake dating the man who broke my heart at sixteen during your wedding week wasn't exactly one of my better ideas."
Hermione stared at you for a moment before reaching over and squeezing your hand.
"Y/N."
You hated how emotional hearing your name made you feel.
"I know you didn't do any of this to hurt anyone."
Your throat tightened.
Hermione had always had that annoying ability to see straight through you.
Even when you wished she wouldn't.
"I just feel bad," you admitted. "You deserve one week where nobody is creating chaos around you."
For a second, Hermione simply looked at you before a laugh escaped her.
It wasn't mocking or judgmental. If anything, she looked delighted by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
"Are you kidding?"
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously as Hermione's grin widened.
"This is the most alive I've felt in years."
You gaped at her.
She shrugged, looking entirely unapologetic.
"What?"
You stared at her.
"Your wedding is in three days."
"Exactly."
Hermione pointed back toward the restaurant, where the muffled sounds of laughter and music drifted through the open doors.
"Do you know how many seating charts I've looked at this week?"
A reluctant laugh escaped you despite yourself.
Hermione smiled at the sound before her expression softened again.
"Y/N, Draco and I spent most of dinner talking about transportation logistics."
You snorted.
"I'm serious."
She leaned against the railing beside you, gazing out at the water.
"I love my life. I love Draco. But somewhere along the way we all became adults."
A fond smile tugged at her lips.
"Now Theo is flirting with anything that has a pulse, Pansy is terrorizing poor Neville, and apparently you and Lorenzo have been fake dating right under my nose."
You groaned, and Hermione laughed softly at your reaction.
"My point is that you're my friend."
The teasing faded from her voice as she reached for your hand again.
"You don't have to apologize for being human."
Something warm settled painfully in your chest. Hermione gave your hand a gentle squeeze before continuing.
"And for the record, I'd rather spend my wedding week helping you through a crisis than pretending everything is perfect."
Your eyes stung unexpectedly.
"That's disgustingly sweet."
"I know."
You shook your head.
"Draco has turned you into a romantic."
Hermione's smile widened slightly.
"Don't tell him that, please. His ego is already big enough as it is."
Despite everything weighing on your mind, a laugh escaped you, and for the first time since leaving the table, you felt like you could breathe again.
Hermione smiled at the sound, clearly pleased with herself. The teasing glint in her eyes lingered for a moment before her expression softened.
"You know," Hermione said quietly.
"What?"
Her smile turned suspiciously fond.
"I've never seen Lorenzo look at anyone else the way he looks at you."
Honestly, it was a little alarming how quickly Enzo folded whenever you looked at him a certain way.
The man carried himself like a pureblood prince most of the time. He was arrogant, confident, and completely insufferable when he wanted to be, always seeming far too pleased with himself for anyone's liking.
Then you would tell him no, or give him a look, and the entire act would crumble almost instantly. Suddenly he looked like a kicked puppy waiting for forgiveness, as though your approval was the only thing that mattered.
The transformation was genuinely remarkable.
You stared out at the water.
For once, you didn't have a sarcastic response ready.
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“how can you look at me and pretend i'm someone you've never met?"
word count: 4,573.
summary: on day five, a day on the water takes an unexpected turn when you get sick, forcing enzo to trade your usual bickering for devoted caretaking. between old memories, playful teasing, and enzo proving he's still just as hopelessly affected by you as ever, the two of you slip back into the easy comfort you thought you lost.
author’s note: i'm a sucker for a sick/comfort trope so I had to throw that in this chapter. also yes i'm an evil woman who loves throwing in a bit of angst and yearning every now and then. enzo might be a pathetic little slut but he's a slut with a backstory.
♫ back to friends - sombr. nav. chapters. more enzo.
Seventh Year
Hogwarts Castle — Scottish Highlands, Scotland
The first time you called him Enzo happened entirely by accident.
At least, that was the excuse you used afterward.
Seventh year had settled into one of those rare stretches where life felt uncomplicated. Exams were still months away, Quidditch was in its off season, and somehow you had fallen into the habit of spending nearly every free moment with him.
Nobody could quite explain it.
Least of all him.
The library had become your usual refuge when the Great Hall grew too loud. Not because either of you particularly enjoyed studying, but because it provided a convenient excuse to occupy the same space without answering questions from your increasingly suspicious friends.
Unfortunately, Lorenzo possessed the attention span of a particularly spoiled housecat.
He’d arrived with every intention of pretending to study for at least twenty minutes. A respectable effort, by his standards.
You had immediately ruined that plan by existing.
And worse, he had developed the habit of watching you more than the page in front of him.
Not subtly. Not even slightly.
The problem was that you never seemed to notice—too focused, too composed, too annoyingly calm in a way that made it impossible to look away for long.
Or maybe you did notice.
And just didn’t care.
Across the table, you sat with your nose buried in a stack of notes, completely focused on whatever essay was currently consuming your attention. Every few minutes, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before returning to your work, blissfully unaware that he hadn’t read a single sentence in nearly fifteen minutes.
Lorenzo sighed dramatically.
You ignored him.
A few moments later, he sighed again.
Still nothing.
Honestly, it was becoming insulting.
“Lorenzo.”
“What?”
You glanced up from your notes and found him openly staring at you, completely detached from whatever assignment he’d supposedly been working on.
“You’ve sighed six times in the last two minutes.”
“Only because you refuse to pay attention to me.”
“We’re supposed to be studying.”
“I am studying.”
“No, you’re not.”
His grin appeared immediately, like he’d been waiting for you to notice.
“You don't know that.”
“You haven’t moved for half an hour.”
His grin widened further.
“Been watching me, then?”
You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late.” He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased. “It’s already gone to my head.”
A laugh threatened to escape before you managed to suppress it. Shaking your head, you returned to your notes, already regretting giving him the attention he’d been fishing for.
Honestly, you were impossible.
Several minutes passed in comfortable silence.
Or at least, comfortable for you.
Lorenzo spent most of that time watching you study with the kind of tragic longing usually reserved for soldiers separated from their lovers by war.
Eventually, he reached for a scrap of parchment.
Something bounced lightly off your shoulder.
You looked up to find a crumpled piece of parchment rolling across the table and Lorenzo already trying and failing to suppress a smile.
“Did you just throw something at me?”
“No.”
You held up the evidence.
“It fell.”
“From across the room?”
“Gravity works in mysterious ways.”
Despite yourself, you laughed.
The sound seemed to catch him off guard. Not completely, but enough that something softened briefly inside his chest before the familiar grin returned.
“You finally stopped glaring at your notes.”
You looked up.
“Only because you insist on being a menace.”
“Yes, but I’m your menace.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the sincerity in his voice.
“See? Much better.”
You rolled your eyes, though the warmth creeping into your cheeks made the gesture feel far less convincing than you’d intended.
Across the table, Lorenzo noticed immediately.
A look of satisfaction flashed across his face before he leaned forward and plucked the quill straight from your hand.
“Lorenzo.”
“Yes, love?”
“Give it back.”
“Say pretty please.”
You let out an exasperated sigh.
“You’re an absolute pain the the arse.”
His grin only widened.
“And yet you still spend all your time with me.”
You opened your mouth with a ready retort, only to hesitate.
Because annoyingly enough, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
The brief pause seemed to delight him far more than it should’ve, his grin growing steadily more insufferably by the second.
The smug bastard.
By the time you finally lost patience, you leaned across the table in an attempt to snatch the quill back from him. Lorenzo reacted instantly, shifting out of reach and holding it triumphantly above your grasp while grinning like an idiot.
“You know,” you informed him, settling back into your seat, “one day somebody’s going to punch you.”
“I’ll survive.”
“I might be the one who does it.”
“You say that every week.”
“Because every week you give me a reason to.”
His laugh echoed through the quiet library, drawing a few irritated glances from nearby tables that neither of you paid any attention to.
It was warm and easy, the kind of laugh that always seemed to pull one out of you in return.
Somehow, whenever he was with you, even the most ordinary moments felt lighter.
Shaking your head, you smiled despite yourself.
“You’re impossible, Enzo.”
The nickname slipped out so naturally that you didn’t even register it at first.
It wasn’t until the silence stretched between you that you realized what you’d said.
You froze.
Across the table, Lorenzo went still too.
Nobody called him Enzo. Not really.
To most people, he was Lorenzo. Berkshire. Idiot. Arsehole.
But somehow, Enzo felt different.
Softer. More familiar. Like something that belonged only to you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The noise of the library seemed to fade into the background as the two of you simply stared at each other across the table.
Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
Not his usual grin. Not the teasing smirk he wore whenever he was about to cause trouble.This one was different—quieter, smaller, softer, and somehow far more dangerous because of how genuine it was.
“Enzo?”
Heat immediately crawled up your neck.
“It slipped.”
“Hm.”
“It was an accident.”
The smile lingered as he tilted his head slightly.
“Mhm.”
You pointed the recovered quill directly at him.
“Don’t start.”
His smile only widened.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was appreciating the moment.”
You groaned and buried your face in your hands.
His delighted laughter followed immediately.
But later, long after the conversation had moved on, after homework and dinner and whatever ridiculous nonsense Theo had gotten himself involved in that evening, Lorenzo caught himself looking up whenever someone called his full name.
For half a second, disappointment followed.
Like he’d been hoping to hear something else.
Like he’d been hoping to hear you say it again.
Enzo.
And for the first time, it occurred to him that he didn’t just like the sound of it.
He liked the way it felt when you said it like it was already yours.
Day 5
Villa Elysia — Paros, Greece
Enzo knew you hadn’t come back to the room approximately three minutes after midnight.
Not because he’d been waiting up for you.
That would have been pathetic.
The problem was that sleep had become a largely elusive concept somewhere around the moment you’d stormed off the terrace the night before. Every time he closed his eyes, he found himself replaying the argument all over again. Every stupid thing he’d said. Every stupid thing you’d said. Every stupid thing he’d done before you’d shoved him away like you couldn’t get away fast enough.
He shouldn’t have kissed you.
He shouldn’t have touched you.
He should’ve known better, but unfortunately, Enzo’s mind was no match for his heart. It was selfish and jealous and full of poisonous things capable of driving him to the brink of insanity.
By one in the morning, he’d convinced himself you were with Mattheo.
By two, he’d imagined at least six different scenarios, each somehow worse than the last. By three, he was actively considering launching Riddle directly into the Aegean Sea.
With his luck, the bastard would probably float.
By four, Enzo had accepted that he wasn’t sleeping.
Which was why he looked particularly murderous when he finally dragged himself downstairs the following morning.
“Blimey.”
Theo lowered his coffee slowly.
“You look like death.”
Enzo sat down without answering.
Across the table, Blaise took one look at him before sighing.
“You didn’t sleep.”
“Astounding deduction.”
Theo perked up immediately.
“Oh, this is about Y/N.”
“No.”
“Did you two have a lover’s quarrel?”
“Leave it.”
“Never.”
Enzo closed his eyes briefly.
To his dismay, Theo leaned forward with the enthusiasm of a man who genuinely viewed other people’s suffering as a hobby.
“Did she finally realize you’re desperately in love with her?”
Blaise immediately choked on his coffee.
Enzo stared at Theo.
Theo stared back.
The bastard didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
Then movement at the far end of the terrace caught Enzo’s attention, drawing his gaze away from the conversation entirely.
You appeared carrying a coffee while Pansy walked beside you, and for a moment, Enzo simply stared as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. A frown tugged at his expression when the realization finally settled in.
Pansy.
Not Mattheo.
For the first time that morning, genuine confusion managed to push aside the misery.
You slid into an empty chair beside Ginny while Pansy immediately stole a pastry from Theo’s plate. The two of you looked perfectly normal, which should’ve been reassuring.
Instead, it only raised more questions.
Theo followed his gaze across the terrace before spotting you beside Pansy.
“Ah.”
His eyebrows lifted as understanding settled across his face.
“She’s alive.”
“Unfortunately,” Enzo replied.
Theo looked delighted by the answer.
“That’s the spirit.”
Several seats away, you laughed at something Ginny said, and the sound hit him like a physical blow.
Across the table, Blaise noticed immediately. For once, he didn’t make a joke or offer one of his usual comments.
Instead, he kicked Theo beneath the table hard enough to make him yelp.
“The bloody hell was that for?”
Blaise took a sip of coffee before nodding subtly toward Enzo.
“Leave him alone.”
The grin slowly slipped from Theo’s face as his gaze flicked toward Enzo before shifting across the terrace toward you. For the first time all morning, he seemed to understand exactly what was going on.
Theo didn’t say anything for a moment.
Which, in itself, was concerning.
Then, quietly:
“…Right. That’s actually bad.”
“Yeah,” Blaise said quietly.
Enzo couldn’t tell whether he should be relieved or alarmed.
Day 5
Thalassa Bay — Paros, Greece
A few hours later, everyone boarded the catamaran.
The boat cut smoothly through the water while sunlight danced across the surface of the sea. White sails stretched overhead as the coastline disappeared behind them, replaced by endless shades of blue in every direction.
Normally, this would’ve been right up Enzo’s alley.
Unfortunately, nothing felt particularly normal anymore.
Enzo stood near the bow with a drink he hadn’t touched in nearly twenty minutes.
The problem was that no matter where he looked, he always seemed to find you.
You sat near Hermione and Ginny beneath the shade canopy, listening to something Luna was saying while absently twisting a bracelet around your wrist. Every now and then you smiled at something in the conversation, and every single time, Enzo’s chest tightened in a way that felt increasingly unhealthy.
This was becoming ridiculous.
Across from him, Theo followed his line of sight toward you before glancing back at Enzo. A few moments later, he caught him looking again, and then again after that.
Mattheo appeared beside Theo with a fresh drink in hand.
“Still tormenting him?”
Theo snorted. “Someone has to.”
“You're enjoying this far too much.”
“And you're not?”
Mattheo took a sip of his drink, failing to hide a smile.
“Fair.”
Eventually, Theo walked over to where Enzo was standing and sighed.
“Mate.”
Enzo didn’t answer.
“Mate.”
Still nothing.
Theo shook his head, looking almost concerned.
“I’ve seen widows less tragic than you.”
That finally earned him a response.
“Fuck off, Nott.”
“Welcome back.”
Theo looked genuinely relieved as he leaned back against the railing.
“Thought we’d lost you.”
Enzo glanced back toward you just as you happened to look up. For one brief second, your eyes met across the deck before you immediately looked away again.
The sharp twist in his chest felt embarrassingly similar to heartbreak, which was unfortunate, because heartbreak sounded significantly less pathetic than whatever this was.
A little while later, the boat anchored near a secluded cove surrounded by rocky cliffs and crystal-clear water. Everyone scattered almost immediately once the anchor dropped, eager to explore or throw themselves into the sea.
Theo attempted a cannonball. Draco threatened violence. All while Ginny enthusiastically encouraged him. The whole thing was oddly comforting.
Mattheo surfaced beside the boat a moment later, shoving wet hair out of his face.
“Five out of ten.”
Theo looked offended. “That was at least an eight.”
“For a child, maybe.”
“You're jealous of my athleticism.”
Mattheo laughed and pushed away from the ladder before Theo could splash him.
“Keep telling yourself that, Nott.”
Enzo remained near the railing while conversation drifted around him in fragments. Nearby, the others laughed, argued, and moved between the deck and the water while the afternoon sun beat down relentlessly overhead.
It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that something felt wrong. At first, he couldn’t explain it. Only that a strange sense of unease had settled low in his stomach.
Then he realized why.
You’d stopped talking.
That shouldn’t have stood out considering there were more than a dozen people on this trip, all carrying on separate conversations at any given moment. Yet somehow Enzo always noticed when you were quiet.
His gaze swept across the deck until he found you sitting with the others beneath the canopy. Something looked off immediately.
The smile you’d been forcing all morning disappeared entirely, and your shoulders seemed unusually tense. One hand lifted briefly to your temple before falling away again, and the uneasy feeling in his stomach tightened.
Across the deck, Ginny frowned as she studied you more closely.
“Y/N?”
You waved her off immediately and offered a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
“I’m fine.”
The answer came a little too quickly, and judging by the way Hermione’s eyebrows pulled together, she noticed it too.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m just hot.”
You followed the words with a laugh, but something about the sound felt off. It lacked its usual warmth, coming out strained enough that it immediately set Enzo on edge.
Before he consciously decided to move, he was already crossing the deck toward you. One moment he had been standing near the railing, trying very hard not to look in your direction, and the next he was weaving through the crowd with far more urgency than he cared to admit.
By the time he reached the group, every pair of eyes on the boat turned to follow him.
Because apparently the universe hated him.
“You alright, love?”
The nickname slipped out automatically as he stepped closer.
Your eyes lifted toward him, and for a brief moment, something softened in your expression. The look was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar stubbornness that had been driving him insane for years.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but the words never came. Instead, you swayed slightly where you sat, and the shift was enough to make the entire deck fall silent.
Enzo’s stomach dropped.
The color had completely drained from your face.
“Oh, bloody hell.”
Hermione was already standing while Ginny looked alarmed beside her, and for the first time all week, Theo didn’t look entertained at all.
You blinked a few times as though trying to clear your head before a slight frown crossed your face.
“I think…”
The sentence never finished. Your expression shifted with confusion, and then suddenly your knees buckled.
Enzo caught you before you hit the deck.
One arm wrapped around your waist while the other steadied your shoulders, pulling you firmly against him as a wave of panic crashed through his chest. For one horrible second, he thought you passed out completely.
“Y/N.”
His voice sounded wrong, far sharper than he intended and threaded with a fear he couldn’t quite hide.
Your eyes fluttered open briefly before closing again, and the sight nearly stopped his heart.
“Move.”
The command cracked through the silence so fast that everyone obeyed immediately.
For once, neither Theo nor Mattheo said a word.
Theo had already cleared space beside Hermione while Mattheo was halfway across the deck helping move bags and towels out of the way.
Neither looked at the other.
Neither needed to.
Ginny was beside you in an instant while Hermione pressed a hand against your forehead. The concern that crossed her face did absolutely nothing to improve the situation.
“She’s burning up.”
Enzo swore viciously.
“What happened?” Harry asked.
“Heat exhaustion, probably,” Hermione replied. “She’s been sitting in the sun for hours.”
Enzo looked down at you.
Hours.
You’d been feeling awful for hours, and somehow he’d still spent the entire morning feeling sorry for himself instead of noticing something was wrong. The realization settled heavily in his stomach, leaving behind a sickening wave of guilt that was somehow worse than the panic.
A short while later, the catamaran was already heading back toward shore.
Nobody argued with the decision.
Nobody even suggested staying.
Because the second people realized you were genuinely ill, the entire mood of the excursion evaporated.
You remained curled against Enzo’s side throughout the journey back.
Every time the boat shifted beneath the waves, your face twisted slightly before settling again, and each small expression somehow managed to make his anxiety worse.
Across from him, Theo looked alarmingly serious.
“You alright?”
Enzo didn’t answer.
The question wasn’t directed at him anyway.
Day 5
Villa Elysia — Paros, Greece
By the time you reached the villa, you were pale, exhausted, and visibly struggling to stay awake.
Enzo carried you inside without asking permission.
Nobody stopped him.
Nobody was stupid enough to try.
The room felt painfully quiet after the chaos of the boat.
Sunlight spilled through the curtains while Enzo carefully settled you on the edge of the bed. For a brief moment, he thought the worst might be over.
Then you lurched forward.
“Oh, shit.”
His reflexes kicked in before his brain could catch up.
One second you were sitting upright, and the next he was kneeling beside you, pulling your hair away from your face while you were violently sick into the wastebasket beside the bed.
Every protective instinct he possessed went into overdrive.
“It’s alright, sweetheart.”
His hand moved slowly across your back.
“I’ve got you.”
Another miserable sound escaped you, and Enzo’s chest physically hurt at the sound of it. You looked so small curled up against the mattress, exhausted and flushed from the heat, so unlike the version of yourself he was used to.
Eventually the nausea eased enough for you to lean back against the pillows, your eyes half closed as you tried to catch your breath.
For several seconds, you simply stared at him, eyes unfocused as though you were trying to piece together a puzzle.
Then a small frown appeared between your brows.
“Enzo?”
His heart nearly stopped.
Not literally, but close enough that for one impossible second, he forgot how to breathe.
You hadn’t called him that in years. Not like this. Not softly. Not in a way that made it sound like it belonged to you.
Because no one called him Enzo anymore.
People tried, of course. They always did.
But he shut it down every time.
It never sounded right coming from anyone else. Never felt like his name unless you were the one saying it.
“Yeah, love.”
You blinked slowly before tilting your head.
“Is that you?”
A laugh escaped him despite everything, soft and helpless in a way he would’ve found embarrassing under any other circumstances.
“I’m right here, sweetheart.”
You continued staring at him with obvious suspicion, as though his presence required careful examination before you could accept it.
“It can’t be you.”
Enzo raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
You shook your head slightly before immediately regretting it, your face scrunching as another wave of discomfort passed through you.
“We hate each other now.”
The words were so sincere that they nearly destroyed him. For a moment, he couldn’t speak as he looked at you, wondering how you’d managed to convince yourself of something that had never once been true.
Then his hand brushed lightly through your hair.
“I could never hate you, little raven.”
Something softened immediately in your expression, and the tension seemed to melt from your features.
“I like when you call me that.”
Merlin.
He was already hanging on by a thread.
A few minutes later, Enzo returned with water, a cooling charm, and a healing potion that smelled absolutely horrific.
You took one look at it and immediately narrowed your eyes in suspicion.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t make me.”
“It’ll make you feel better.”
“But it smells horrid.”
Enzo settled on the edge of the bed beside you and held the potion out again, waiting patiently while you continued to glare at it like it had personally offended you.
“Drink it.”
You folded your arms across your chest, and he simply stared back without the slightest intention of backing down. Even as you reluctantly lifted the bottle, you continued glaring at him over the rim.
Delirious, half asleep, and barely coherent, you still somehow managed to be difficult.
He was so deeply in love with you it bordered on humiliation.
“Please, love.”
Eventually, you swallowed the healing potion while making a face dramatic enough to suggest he’d intentionally poisoned you.
“Good girl.”
“I dislike you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Maybe a little.”
The smile that tugged at his mouth felt painful because this version of you felt familiar. For the first time in what felt like forever, being around you didn’t feel strained or complicated.
It felt like before.
An hour later, exhaustion finally started winning.
The fever had broken somewhat, the color was returning to your face, and your eyes kept drifting closed every few minutes despite your increasingly stubborn attempts to stay awake.
Enzo carefully pulled the blankets higher around you before taking a step back from the bed.
“There.”
You looked up at him through heavy eyelids, clearly fighting a losing battle against sleep.
“Where are you going?”
“The sofa.”
Your frown appeared immediately, deepening as though he’d suggested something completely unreasonable.
“No.”
“Sweetheart.”
“Stay.”
The single word landed somewhere directly in the center of his chest. Before he could respond, your hand found his and curled around it weakly.
Even half asleep, you still reached for him.
Enzo closed his eyes briefly, the familiar ache in his chest returning with full force.
Because saying no had never been an option.
A few moments later, he climbed into bed beside you.
Instinctively, you curled against his chest like you’d been doing it your entire life, settling there with an ease that made something ache inside him. The movement felt natural in a way it never should have, familiar enough to be comforting and dangerous enough to make his chest tighten.
His arm settled around your waist while your head tucked beneath his chin, and suddenly breathing became significantly more complicated than it should’ve been.
Slowly, he brushed your hair back from your face before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Go to sleep, honey.”
Your fingers tightened slightly against his shirt as you nestled closer against him.
“You were my best friend, Enzo.”
His throat tightened at the sound of it.
Not because of the words themselves, but because of the nickname that followed. After all these years, after everything that had changed between you, it still carried the same weight.
Because Enzo had never really belonged to anyone else.
Not the way it belonged to you.
“You were mine too, Y/N.”
Silence settled between you for a moment, soft and familiar, before your voice drifted through the darkness.
“Do you ever miss it?”
Enzo let out a quiet laugh that carried absolutely no humor.
“All the fucking time.”
You shifted even closer, and somehow the admission still felt like an understatement.
“How did it get so fucked up?”
Enzo stared at the ceiling for a moment, wishing he had an answer. If he knew how everything had unraveled so completely, maybe none of this would’ve happened in the first place.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.”
A quiet silence settled between you again, heavier than the ones before it and tinged with something sadder. When you finally spoke, your voice was soft with exhaustion, carrying a fragile note of hope that made his chest ache.
“Do you think we can still fix it?”
Enzo looked down to find your eyes already closed, your breathing evening out against his chest as sleep finally claimed you.
For a long moment, he simply watched you, memorizing the peaceful expression on your face before his hand drifted gently through your hair once more.
The motion felt achingly familiar, the same way it had years ago.
He didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth was already waiting for him somewhere in the past.
Seventh year had been one of the rare winters when Hogwarts felt warm.
Snow covered the grounds beyond the common room while students drifted in and out throughout the evening, filling the room with quiet conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.
At some point, you’d fallen asleep on him.
Nobody knew exactly when.
One moment you’d been arguing about homework, and the next your head had gradually slipped onto his shoulder before the conversation disappeared entirely.
Theo had noticed first, which was hardly surprising.
The bastard nearly ruptured something trying not to laugh before finally managing to get out a strained, “Mate.”
Enzo looked up from his book, only for Theo to point in your direction. Following his gaze, Enzo glanced down and immediately realized what had him so entertained.
You were asleep, completely asleep, curled against him without the slightest concern for how dangerously close he was to actually losing his mind.
Theo looked delighted.
“That’s adorable.”
“Shut up.”
“You fancy her.”
“Shut up.”
Theo grinned.
Enzo ignored him completely.
Then very carefully, he adjusted the blanket around your shoulders.
Back then, he’d thought he had time.
Back then, he’d thought eventually was a real place people could get to.
Presently, his gaze remained fixed on your sleeping face.
Do you think we can still fix it?
His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, little raven.”
The confession disappeared into the quiet room.
You never heard it.
Which was probably for the best.
Because if Lorenzo Berkshire had learned anything over the past ten years, it was that loving you had always been the easiest part.
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