Small Steps Every Day

You'd been together nearly a year, but you didn’t think you’d ever stop reveling in just how beautiful he was; his sharp witted smile on plush lips, made all the more perfect for the knowledge of how they felt against your own: heady and urgent, his effortlessly tousled hair, the way he carried himself with confidence and ease and a permanent air of insouciance, his muscular arms that trailed to veined forearms, strong hands and long fingers—

“—You’re staring” a deep voice grumbled.

“Sue me.”

Blaise let out a breathy laugh but your gaze didn’t waiver, like maybe you could understand the boy you were staring at the longer you looked at him.

“He’s really not going to ask me, is he?” you said quietly, releasing the thought that had been running you ragged over the last month.

Blaise blew out a long breath this time, perhaps steeling himself to come up with some sort of excuse that could make it all make sense.

“Figured” you surmised.

“YN, come on. You know how he is. You know, labels, formalities, talking about feelings, s’not really his thing.”

You looked on at him, all lazily crossed arms and a devil-may-care smirk, considering that the Lorenzo he was to everyone else was entirely different from the one you knew so well.

⋆꙳❅*❆*⁀➷

You had had a lot of preconceived notions in the beginning, going so far as to consider the entire thing a mistake, a one-time lapse in judgement on both of your parts, given his reputation with girls.

You shared many of the same friends though were never close, but slowly you began to notice an increase in his attention: a brush of his hand against yours in the hallway, the lingering weight of his gaze that didn’t lift even when you caught him staring, earning a lopsided grin laced with a heat that made your heart thump insistently in your chest; a flirty comment here, a not-so-subtle compliment there and then you were walking back from the library together late one night... by this point you’d spent enough time together that you chatted amiably about quidditch, potions, and perhaps a few other things you couldn’t remember because after a moment you realized his footsteps had stopped beside you and then you felt his hand, gentle but insistent grasping your own and pulling you back towards him.

You had tried to say something, anything, to form a sentence, but he’d pulled you into his chest and his thumb was grazing your cheek, his eyes locked on yours with a depth and sincerity that made your stomach drop and your cheeks heat, and at the sight of the flush of pink he smirked mercilessly, tilting your chin as he brushed his lips against yours with a softness you had no idea he could possess before he was cupping your face with both hands and kissing you like it was the last thing on earth he’d ever do.

It took one heartbeat, two, for your mind to process what was happening before you were kissing him back, feverish, as your hands grasped at his robes, pulling yourself closer into him until you could feel his smile on your own.

He didn’t stop kissing you until your lips were tender and your chest was heaving. He pulled back to look at you, really look at you before he ran his thumb over his bottom lip and then pressed two, three, four more kisses to your swollen lips.

Things were different after that.

Much to the great dismay of the four houses, he stopped talking to other girls completely; he was permanently fixed at your side at meals, in class, with an insistence and consistency that you reveled in. His hand was fixed on your lower back in the hallway, his arm was around you on the common room couch, and his lips were on yours on every possible opportunity in between, which left you and everyone around you to surmise that you were … exclusive.

Before long, you were spending every night in his bed, walking around in his quidditch jumper, it was all but certain.

So, with the Berkshire Winter Ball approaching, it felt all but certain that you were going together.

In fact, you’d seen his suit and you'd even got a dress to match, your own surprise for him.

But then the weeks before the ball became days, and every one of your friends had dates, and he didn’t say a word to you about it.

You felt like you were going mad.

You’d tried several times, of course, to bring it up, but you certainly weren’t going to beg, so when he expertly skirted the topic every time, when he smirked, kissed you, and made you forget what it was that had you so worked up to begin with you, you let it go.

But a still, small voice in the back of your head left you wondering if it meant that you were good enough for a fling at school but nothing more.

⋆꙳❅*❆*⁀➷

“You’re still going to come though, right?” Blaise urged.

Your eyes narrowed, finally pulling away from Lorenzo long enough to acknowledge him.

“I’ll be there.”

The Berkshire Manor on Christmas Eve put Hogwarts to shame.

A veritable forest of live fir trees lined the long drive, perfectly looped with strings of twinkling white lights and a natural dusting of the still-fluttering snow. The house itself wore wreaths in each of the windows the size of small cars, adorned with large velvet bows in an arctic pale blue, Berkshire blue you thought with a forced wry smile as you looked down at the matching hue of your dress.

The iciness in the air did nothing for your nerves as you shivered, resenting every couple ahead of you that stepped out of their carriages hand in hand while you were resigned to ride alone.

You let out a shaky breath.

Lorenzo had texted you today like everything was completely normal and you had begun to think that either he was the biggest idiot you knew, or you were.

The door to your carriage opened and a footman offered a hand to help you down as your eyes trailed up the broad stone stairs in front of you, hoping against all hope that maybe Lorenzo would be there, waiting for you, saving you from the stolid humiliation of walking in alone.

But no.

There was a smattering of other guests, all arm in arm and your continued solitude made you icier.

The train of your dress fluttered behind you in waves of pale blue tulle adorned with innumerable silver gems that caught the starlight and made you look like the winter sky itself. You had opted for a sweeping sweetheart neckline with a bold plunge and barely-there straps that hung off your shoulders, like they were mid-slip, begging to be tugged all the way off. All of that paired with the snowflake diamond-and-pearl designs wound into your hair gave you the confidence to stride up the palatial steps alone, as your heels met marble and the steep slit of your dress parted your way.

You stepped inside to a packed greeting hall, opulently large and draped with live garland entwined with more velvet blue ribbon.

The room echoed with string instruments and the buzz of dozens of small conversations as hundreds of candles hovered in the air. You took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm your nerves as you looked for a familiar face, trying to remain the perfect picture of serenity despite the anxious patter of your heartbeat that you could feel all the way in your fingertips.

“Fucking hell is Berkshire an idiot or what?!” a voice carried, causing a few nearby heads to turn as you saw Blaise smiling at you with open arms, and your friends trailing behind him.

Your eyes swept over them anxiously, but you didn’t see Lorenzo as Blaise pulled you into his grasp before releasing you with your hands intertwined so he could twirl you as you laughed and blushed. You knew he was hamming it up for you, but you couldn’t deny your nerves were melting off of you like the lingering snowflakes on your skin.

“I mean, really, bella, this is …” Theo let out a deep breath as he eyed your form in your dress and dragged a hand over the lower half of his face, eyes transfixed as they smoldered at you, teetering into the territory of eye-fucking you.

You cocked an eyebrow at him before he raised his hands defensively, though you noticed his eyes trailing back to you several times, even as Mattheo’s arm wrapped around your waist as he presented you with a delicate flute of champagne, nearly full to overflowing.

“Say the word” he muttered, his lips pressed to your ear as you turned slowly to meet his eye. “Just say it and I will happily, gladly, unceremoniously tell my date she can fuck right off so I can have you on my arm tonight.”

You elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m not kidding” he laughed.

“I know you’re not!” you chided.

“Can’t blame me for trying” he said, grabbing another flute of champagne from a passing waiter and nearly draining it.

“Where is he…?” you asked quietly, letting the question drift as your eyes searched the room for him.

“Last I saw him he was with his parents somewhere over by the fountain” he nodded towards a towering fountain of enchanted champagne near the other end of the hall.

“Hmpf” you said, considering that as you took your own large sip, the champagne bubbles tickling your tongue.

“Ahh fuck, there’s my date” he said, slamming the rest of his drink as he unwound his arm from you. “Offer still stands!” he said hopefully, glancing back at you before you waved him off.

Your friends followed with wistful waves of their own as they made their way to the dancefloor with their dates, making it feel like the entire ball was pairing off for a perfectly choregraphed dance you’d been doing for as long as you could remember.

You watched the sea of smiling couples with resigned sadness, envying the sweep and whoosh of dresses that fluttered with the music, the way everyone was smiling, overcome with the seasonal joy of being in love.

You swallowed, wondering for the thousandth time what the hell you were doing here, dressed for a date you didn’t have, for the prince of the ball that had no problem pulling your clothes off but couldn’t deign to ask you to be his. You let out a shuddered breath as your fingers tapped nervously against the glass in your hand.

“Forgive me for being so forthright, but you standing here by yourself is an absolute disgrace.”

Your head turned quickly to the voice that had appeared beside you to see a tall, slender, beautiful woman with rich amber hair who took her own deep sip of champagne, her eyes fixed forward, and you felt you should do the same to keep from staring.

“I—well, thank you, I suppose” you muttered.

“You’re every bit as beautiful as Lorenzo described in his many letters.”

Your head turned back to her, slower this time, as the realization sank in and you took a quiet, deep breath.

“Mrs. Berkshire?”

She smiled, her eyes never leaving the crowd in front of you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” you said firmly. “Lorenzo speaks very fondly of you, and I’m honored to be here tonight.”

She smiled deeper, her eyes crinkling.

“Beauty and manners” she mused.

You smiled demurely and blushed.

A moment passed.

“He is very like his father—” she said, breaking the silence and tilting her glass across the room as the crowd parted enough for you to see him, finally, dressed gorgeously perfect in a rich arctic blue of his own standing next to a man of nearly equal height who was unmistakably related; it was obvious in the way they carried themselves, affable, magnetic, with sharp dazzling smiles.

“—Handsome, whip-smart, cunning… stubborn…”

You laughed lightly.

“...Generous when he wants to be. Tender and affectionate…”

You felt your cheeks burn as your eyes flitted to the ground shyly.

“…Though not many know that side of them. But given the way Lorenzo has stared at you all night, I think that you do.”

Your face scrunched in confusion as you looked up. Stared at you all night?

“He didn’t ask you to be his date tonight, did he?” she asked.

You swallowed, debating the most tactful way to respond and figured there was no use in lying.

“No, m’am.”

She smirked and you felt a sinking feeling, like you were the butt end of a cruel family joke as you bit down on your lip and tried to find something in the middle distance to focus on.

“I shouldn’t say anything” she shrugged, and took another sip from her dwindling champagne. “But you should know it’s not because he’s uncertain about you. Far from it.”

You turned to her then and her eyes slid slyly to yours.

“He didn’t ask you because he needs to know you’re strong enough to stand on your own, confident enough to command a space without needing his invitation, sure enough in him to show up regardless, and pure enough not to take his dismissal in spite, to show up with someone else or try to make him jealous. It is a longstanding, infuriating Berkshire tradition” she said rolling her eyes. “Marco did the same thing to me—”

You couldn’t hide the smile on your face as you glanced back at Lorenzo and realized he was staring at you now, his gaze heavy with heat as he shook the hands of those around him and began to make his way in your direction.

“—And then he asked me to marry him four weeks later.”

“W-wait, what?” you asked, your head snapping back to her, certain you couldn’t have heard her correctly.

“YN Berkshire” she said quietly, so quietly you thought you’d imagined it as she took a loose strand of your hair and brushed it away from your face letting her eyes roam over you with tenderness and affection as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek before whispering, “It has a nice ring to it,” as she brushed past you.

All you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears as you turned after her only to find she’d disappeared into the crowd.

You had less than a second to process it all before you turned back around to find Lorenzo in front of you and now your head was fuzzy for a hundred other reasons; he smelled fresh like cedarwood and vetiver and despite how furious you’d been with him, every frustration melted away and you leaned in, desperate for his proximity.

“You look….” he sighed like he’d been holding his breath for hours and then subtly rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, biting it like a restraint, a reminder of where he was and the decorum he needed to keep as he shook his head, drinking in every inch of you, his gaze lingering on your plunging neckline, your collarbone, before his eyes inched up to meet your own.

“Gods I’m so fucking lucky you’re mine” he muttered, the words barely escaping him before he leaned in and kissed you like there weren’t two hundred people watching, as he held your face and his tongue instantly slipped past your lips.

Your hands found the lapels of his suit which you clung to for purchase as you matched his insistence. You could hear a few murmurs and a surprised laugh but they faded like background music as you let him nearly sweep you off your feet, feeling boneless in his arms.

“And you wearing fucking Berkshire blue” he growled, the words tangled between his kisses as one hand wandered down to your side, resting at your hip where he squeezed you into him possessively.

He pulled back, pressing two, three more kisses to you but letting his lips linger near yours.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re here, that you came. I wanted to ask you, I just… it’s… complicated” he breathed.

You nodded against his lips, causing them to brush, to tingle against each other as you smiled.

“You’re not… mad?” he asked cautiously.

You pulled back a little further and feigned like you had to think about it rolling your lips into a pout as you half-shrugged and he held you a little firmer in defense.

“I think, maybe, you can find a way to make it up to me?” you said slow and teasing as you leaned in again, letting your lips waiver against his, letting your warm breath fall on him as you stared at him under lidded eyes and his hands held you even tighter as he bunched the fabric of your dress in his hands, his body rigid though his expression was calm and warm.

“I intend to” he muttered back against your lips before he kissed your bottom lip, subtly sucking it, nipping on it dangerously in a way that made you feel like he was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Over and over and over again” he promised until he kissed you again, deep, unabashedly.

You have no idea he thought, as you smiled.

Mattheo couldn’t lose his temper without a thunderstorm rolling in overhead. The louder he yelled, the closer lightning struck the mortal world. Entire weather systems developed trust issues, even worse so whenever he participated in monopoly night.

Alongside him, Theodore had been blessed with control of fire. Unfortunately, he also had the attention span of a goldfish. Each time he got bored, something mysteriously caught alight. National forests, curtains, sacred temples. Once, rather impressively, a lake.

To counter this, Blaise was blessed in ruling the sea and had the confidence of a demigod who genuinely believed he was helping. Every attempt to put out one of Theodore’s fires ended the same way: a tidal wave, several flooded villages and an apology fruit basket.

Draco’s emotions affected meteorology in the most inconvenient of ways imaginable. If he watched a sad movie? Rain. If he heard one heartfelt compliment? Snow. If he endured a bad breakup – shit… the authorities issued monsoon warnings.

Last but not least, there was Enzo; who never really needed to raise his voice. He merely whispered secrets into the window which caused doors to slam shut, rock formations to crumble and someone’s deeply embarrassing diary entry to somehow find its way into public circulation.

The Gods called them boys with gifts. Humanity called them natural disasters. Their parents maintained that they "were going through a phase.” Insurance companies called them uninsurable.

And somewhere… on Mt Olympus which had been taken over by Salazar Slytherin himself many centuries ago, it had been decided by the founders of Hogwarts that perhaps giving teenagers divine powers had been a spectacular lapse in judgement.

None of this, however; was the boy’s biggest problem.

“You won’t forget about the dinner tonight, right?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe as you watched Leon reading through some papers. He seemed to be deep in thought, the wrinkles on his forehead becoming more prominent.

His desk looked messier than usual, implying that he had been working non-stop. Thank God, it was Friday already.

“Hm?” He asked, looking up in your direction. It was obvious that he hadn’t been listening to you at all, with his mind being still clouded with work and various other duties that were waiting for him.

“The dinner tonight,” you repeated with a chuckle as you approached him. It was a dinner hosted by the DSO, officially. Well, more or less. Only the highest members were invited, and that obviously included Leon and you. What was originally planned as a small gathering between coworkers had turned into an uptight dinner event over the years. The two of you were never particularly thrilled for these kinds of parties. If it were up to you, you’d end up on the couch with your favorite wine and a movie playing in the background; however, that wasn’t in the cards for you tonight.

“Yeah, I remember,” he muttered, leaning back into his chair.

“You sound just as excited as I am,” you joked as you stood behind him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and started to lightly massage the tense muscles there. “You need to relax a little more,” you whispered.

He groaned lowly, leaning into your touch. You focused on the tight knots, putting just the right amount of pressure on them to help ease the tension.

“Easier said than done, love,” he said as he looked back to the papers in his hands. You only hummed in agreement. The last few weeks had been hectic and stressful, and there hadn’t really been any chance for spending a little bit of quality time together. Not even on the weekends. Unfortunately, bioterrorism threats rarely cared about regular working hours.

“Maybe it will boost your motivation when I tell you that I bought a new dress for the occasion.” You smiled, letting your hands wander from his neck down his upper body. “Even in your favorite color,” you continued, your voice dropping lower.

“That definitely helps.” A slight smirk crossed his features as he watched your hands making their way down his torso. You bent down a little to give him a few kisses on his neck as well.

He closed his eyes at your delicate touches, hissing when one of your hands brushed over his bulge. It could have been dismissed as an accident, but it was never accidental with you. Especially not now when you had been teasing him the whole day already. He loved it, he really did, but it was on the brink of getting painful, considering that there was simply no time to indulge in each other and releaseyourselves.

“What do you think you’re doing, hm?” He asked, the papers in his hand long forgotten.

“I am just trying to help my husband relax,” you stated in a sweet-sounding voice. Your hands brushed another time over his clothed dick, this time with a little more pressure.

He gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from moving any further. “I feel like this is doing the opposite, actually."

"Unless..." he slightly turned his head to look at your face. “You intend to do something about it.”

You grinned, enjoying the satisfactory proof that he was just as worked up as you were. And it was all because of you and your mischievous provocations. With excruciating slowness, you started palming his member until you felt him hardening under your touch. Not to sound too cocky, but there was something oddly satisfying about knowing how easy it was for you to get him hard.

“As much as I’d love to help you, I have another meeting in 10 minutes,” you explained with a smile, pulling back slightly and letting your hands drift back to his shoulders. He sighed, letting his head fall against the headrest.

“Of course you do,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw c’mon. Besides, I don’t want to distract you from work.” You smirked, giving his shoulders a few more squeezes before making your way back to the door.

“Too late for that,” he chuckled lowly, watching as you reached for the door handle. “So that’s it? You’re leaving me here with a boner?” He asked.

“Just look forward to tonight. When we get home, I might let you help me out of said dress,” you said, taking one last glance back at him. “Like a reward.” You winked before disappearing into the busy hallway.

He let his gaze linger on the door you'd just disappeared through before forcing his attention back to the papers on his desk. Which, admittedly, wasn't all that easy when the blood in his body had decided his brain was no longer its priority.

“This woman will be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a slight grin.

Maybe this was your final payback after the most recent times he'd driven you crazy in the most inappropriate settings.

The mutual teasing had become a well-established part of your marriage. Being married for over twenty years and working as elite agents meant it sometimes took creativity to keep certain things, like intimacy, from falling by the wayside. Showing how much you craved and longed for each other and how there was still the same lust and desire as twenty years before, seemed to be your secret recipe. The only difference was that by now it felt even deeper and more grounded.

The rest of the day went about the same. Not-so-accidental touches when you met him in the hallway, sultry remarks whispered into his ear during a short meeting, and a peck on the lips that lasted a tad too long on the drive home.

Leon handled it like a pro for the most part, holding onto the thought of ravishing you as soon as he had you all to himself again.

Once you arrived at your apartment, Leon's hands were on you. He was so good at charming his way into your heart that he was convinced you couldn’t say no. Not when he seductively offered to do it in the shower. Or in the hallway. Or in the car. Or on the couch.

Such damn tempting offers, if it weren't for the fact that you weren’t done teasing him. So instead of giving in, you’d put him off with the same excuse of not having enough time until you had to leave for the dinner. Surely, it would have been enough time for a quick release, but that was not what you wanted. You wanted him losing his mind for you. You wanted him so worked up that he couldn’t think straight anymore. So desperate that he was ready to pull you into the next empty hallway to take you against the wall.

If only you’d known by then how that would play out later.

“Leon? Will you help me with the dress?” You called from the bedroom. You’d slipped into your silky midnight-blue dress that ended just above your knees. It was sexy, yet still elegant and classy. Perfect for the occasion.

“On my way,” he called back. He’d already been dressed and ready, waiting for you in the living room.

A hushed and low “wow” was the first thing you heard when he entered the bedroom. Your back was facing him, your dress still hanging open as you waited for him.

You giggled. “You can’t even see the dress properly yet.”

“I see my beautiful wife. Think that is enough,” he hummed lowly, letting his fingers brush over the exposed skin. You shivered at the delicacy of his touch, feeling the goosebumps running all over your back.

“Fuck.” His hands stopped at the zipper, seeing your matching lace underwear that you’d decided to wear underneath. You smiled when you noticed his reaction. Exactly what you wanted.

“Hm?” You asked innocently, as if you were completely oblivious of your seducing undergarments.

“You are really trying to kill me,” he stated, his touch lingering on your skin for a few more moments until he slowly zipped up your dress.

“So, it’s working?” You grinned, holding your hair up a little as he adjusted the dress a little on your neck.

“All too well,” he sighed longingly. “How am I going to concentrate when I am seeing you in this dress all night long?” He gently placed a few kisses on your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Maybe that’s the point,” you said softly, closing your eyes when you felt his lips brush your skin. By now, every touch felt electric, the tension between you becoming unbearable.

Once Leon was done, you turned around finally, letting your gaze wander over him. He was dressed to the nines, wearing one of your favorite suits of his. It was all black, combined with a white shirt and a black tie. He looked delectable, so handsome and like a total dream come true. You’d seen him so many times in suits before, but something about today was different. It felt like seeing him for the first time again. Even the butterflies in your stomach seemed to agree.

“You look so beautiful.” Leon was the first to say something, as you were still ogling him and trying to catch your breath.

“And you look…wow,” you stated, your eyes returning to his handsome face and his steel blue eyes that were admiring you.

“Can’t compete with you, Mrs. Kennedy,” he smirked, reaching for your hand. “Shall we?”

You would never get tired of hearing him call you that. It always gave you a sense of pride, knowing that you were carrying his name and were officially his. Forever and ever.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said with a grin in the same teasing manner, accepting his hand and following him out of your apartment.

The drive to the location was quiet, with none of you wanting to ramp up the tension any further. At least not yet, when your professionalism was called for.

When you arrived, the place was already packed. It was a lavish and spacious apartment on the top floors that felt more like a huge mansion. It was one of those places you could only get into by previous registration and via a separate elevator. It belonged to one of the bigwigs at the DSO. Even though it sometimes seemed a bit over the top to you, you were there for every dinner event.

“Ah, the Kennedys arrived!” One of the men from the forensic team announced with a big grin, inviting you over to his small group that had gathered on a nearby table. The two of you exchanged an amused look before joining the group.

Leon and you spent the first half of the evening doing exactly that. Having small talk with your coworkers and sipping on your drinks with a few laughs here and there. All the while, Leon rested his hand on the small of your back, drawing soothing circles over the silky fabric of your dress. At other times he brushed his fingers over your arm, like a silent reminder that he was appreciating you even when he wasn’t looking at you.

After the main course was served and eaten, you felt yourself becoming more and more restless. Talking about work for what felt like the twentieth time and answering the same questions over and over again felt tedious after a while. You tried your best to smile and engage in the conversations, but after a few more conversations, you just turned on autopilot.

When you glanced back at Leon sitting next to you, you were intrigued by how well he managed to stay so professional, talking with the same charm in his voice you fell in love with.

After another glass of wine, an idea crossed your mind. While he was still talking to the other guests on the table, you gently laid your hand on his thigh. An innocent and comforting gesture between a married couple, at least that was what it looked like to the others.

You started drawing small circles and patterns on his thigh, while you smiled and nodded whenever someone said something amusing.

By now, the conversations grew more relaxed, the drinks were flowing, and the overall lighting was adjusted to a nicely, dimly lit brightness. It was as if the universe was aligning with your plans, or so you thought.

On top of that, your leg occasionally brushed against his, running up and down to ensure even more contact. Leon listened attentively to one of the men speaking, wearing his perfect poker face, but the higher your leg wandered, the more you could see the tension setting in his jaw.

At some point, you couldn't move your leg any further, so you decided to continue with your hand. You were more than grateful for the oversized cloth napkins that covered your legs.

Slowly, you let your hand wander higher until you stopped at his crotch. Your fingers faintly brushed over his bulge, the same way you’d done it in his office a few hours ago. You gauged his reaction, trying to break his poker face, but he played it cool. After all, he was a well-trained agent, so you needed to do more than just that.

You leaned a little forward eventually, hiding what you were doing with your hands, as you began palming him through his pants, feeling him getting harder under your touch.

With a satisfied smirk, you noticed his answers becoming noticeably shorter.

“It seems like the two of you really work well together as a team,” one of the guests said with a friendly smile.

Leon nodded, fidgeting just slightly when you applied more pressure on his dick. “We really do."

You enjoyed watching him trying to keep his composure as he grew harder by the minute, your hands applying the perfect amount of pressure in all the right places.

“So nice to see a happy couple after all these years,” another woman added with a warm smile.

“Yes, she is just the most precious and wonderful person in my life,” Leon said charmingly, using this opportunity to take your hand away from his throbbing member and kissing the back of your hand, before placing your intertwined hands on the table. The whole group went “aww” once they saw your seemingly innocent and romantic gesture, completely unaware of the things happening under the table.

Leon shot you a stern look when no one was watching. When he reached for his glass, he leaned a little more in than necessary so he could whisper in your ear. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked in a deep voice, his breath brushing your ear.

“Making the evening more interesting?” You said in a questioning tone, the feigned innocence dripping from your voice.

He huffed as he pulled back. “You sure did.”

After sharing a short smile and you giving him a peck on the lips as a form of a declaration of peace, you assumed that your little game would end here. However, you knew your husband better than that.

Once the conversation drifted to different topics and the other guest seemed to be less engaged with the two of you, Leon's hand drifted under the table again.

He laid his hand on your thigh, sneaking it under the hem of your dress. In the corner of your eye you could see that he was eyeing you, studying your response to the feel of his fingers on your bare skin.

Out of reflex you closed your thighs, careful not to draw any more attention to you, but he was not having it.

Chuckling at one of the jokes that were told, Leon looked back to one of his colleagues. He was an expert at playing his part, his hands never leaving your thighs.

Without much effort, he nudged your legs apart with his hand, running it along your inner thigh.

There were two voices in your head talking insistently to you. One was telling you to set an end to this and finish this evening as soon as possible so you could go home finally.

The other was persuading you into keeping this game going.

As soon as his fingers reached your panties, stroking over the lace fabric with enough pressure to fondle your clit, you decided that you’d let the second voice win.

Putting on a neutral face, you tried your best to keep your composure, smile at the right times, and even answer a question or two, but Leon wasn’t making it easy for you.

You suppressed the moan building in your throat the second he pulled the lace aside. Immediately, his fingers made contact with your clit. A heavenly feeling, considering the last sex had been a while ago.

He massaged your sensitive nub a few times, letting his fingers drift lower to your entrance. You gripped the stem of your glass a little too tight, hands turning sweaty and nearly tripping it over.

“Leon,” you whispered in a warning tone, turning your face toward him just slightly. A smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He kept rubbing your sensitive parts with his skilled fingers without moving the rest of his arm or hand too much so it wasn’t getting obvious. He was definitely a pro.

“Hm?” He leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” he whispered in your ear.

Carefully, you put your hand on his wrist, trying to stop his movements. Your clit was getting increasingly sensitive, your wetness soaking his fingers already, and you knew it wouldn’t take long until you’d come.

“Maybe a little too much,” you muttered under your breath, a shiver running down your legs when he started applying more pressure. There was no way you’d be able to keep still any longer.

You didn’t know what was more embarrassing. The possibility of people assuming you would be fidgeting in your seat like a toddler because you needed to pee or them actually noticing that you were getting fingered by your husband under the table. Both options seemed…not ideal.

As he brushed his thumb over your clit for a final time, almost causing you to grip onto the edge of the table, you choked on your drink.

You were so close to cumming, but you couldn’t let that happen. Not here when you were threatening to moan his name out loud in a room full of people.

A friendly-looking woman shot you a look. “Is everything okay?”

Leon's fingers slowed down, the tight circles from earlier turning into soft strokes over your folds.

“Yes, sure. I think I just need to freshen up a little." You smiled apologetically, looking over to Leon, who played the part of the perfect, worried husband all too well.

“Are you sure? Can I bring you anything? Water maybe?” He asked, mirroring the worried-sounding voice of the woman at your table.

“No, thank you, darling.” You smiled sweetly at him.

You gently pushed his hand away from between your legs and stood up. “Would you excuse me?” You continued, disappearing into the next hallway.

A little lost and still in a heated haze, you made your way through the long corridors. The voices from the party became quieter with each step you took, fading into the distance until it was only you and your ragged breathing.

Maybe some cold water would do? But in your state, you'd need a whole bucket of ice to cool you down again.

Shortly before you could reach the bathroom, an opened door caught your attention. Now, you were really no one to snoop around in other people’s businesses or spaces, but you couldn't help yourself and take a peek inside. After all, the door was already open, so it couldn't be something top-secret anyway, right?

The room was nicely furnished and looked like a spare bedroom or guest room. A nice bed, some drawers, and a mirror were decorating the room, as well as various fancy pictures hanging on the wall.

What really caught your eye though was the huge balcony that was attached to it. The large glass doors let enough light in to bathe the room in a nice blueish hue.

You bit your lip. Maybe some fresh air would be even better than your originally planned face-splash with cold water.

After taking one last glance behind your back to make sure that no one had followed you, you tiptoed through the room, right to the huge glass door.

As you opened it, you were met with the chilly air of the night, combined with the loud sounds of the traffic below you. The lights from the surrounding buildings made everything feel kind of surreal. As if you were in a dream.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your mind and nerves, but it was quite obvious that it only helped for so long.

The heat between your legs was still prominent; the feeling of Leon's fingers slipping under your panties was still lingering on your skin.

You needed him. You needed him so badly that it was on the brink of getting painful.

Sure, you'd enjoyed teasing him the whole day and seeing his clenched jaw and furrowed brows. Feeling his hardening member twitch under your fingertips was enough to make you wet and ready for him.

However, the touching underneath the table had proved to be too much. Even for you.

You took a few steps forward, leaning against the railing to take in the skyline.

Your options were limited. Going back, acting like nothing happened and hoping Leon and you could keep your hands off each other. Very unlikely.

Going back, saying you weren't feeling well so you both could leave as soon as possible. If you were lucky, Leon might fuck you in his Porsche. Not ideal either.

Instead, you grabbed your phone and looked at Leon's contact. Biting your lip, you thought about calling him, your thumb hovering over his number. But what should you tell him?

Meet me at that secluded balcony? Yeah, sure.

Apparently, your intimate parts overtook the thinking part, because you actually ended up dialing his number. It didn't take two seconds until he picked up.

“Where are you?” He asked in a tense voice, sounding as if he were trying his hardest to keep his voice down. In the background you could hear wild chattering and the sound of clattering dishes.

“At…a balcony,” you said innocently, making it sound more like a question rather than a statement.

"A balcony?” He asked.

“I needed some fresh air, I guess,” you mumbled, looking down to see the cars rushing over the intersection.

He huffed. “So, did it help?”

You weren’t sure if he was teasing you or if he was being serious. It was hard to tell due to his low voice and the noises in the background.

“Barely,” you groaned in frustration, closing your eyes. “Leon…”

“You started it, sweetheart,” he said. Now you were certain he was definitely making fun of you and your situation. “Come back and I might help you,” he said, followed by a low chuckle.

That wouldn’t do. Not anymore.

“It’s not enough,” you mumbled, shaking your head. The wind was blowing through your hair; the first few strands already started to loosen from your hairdo. A few moments of silence followed until you finally spoke your truth.

“I need you to fuck me, Leon,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “I am so horny. I really need you to fuck me as soon as possible,” you confessed, suppressing another groan spilling from your lips.

From the other side on the line, you could hear Leon drawing in a sharp breath. He couldn’t possibly be indifferent to your confession, not after the relentless teasing from you and the activities under the table.

You were just about to take your words back and come back to your senses when Leon finally answered.

“Where is that balcony?”

His words cut through the silence like a knife; so deep and yet so sharp, they made your head spin. Was he really-

He couldn’t possibly-

Feeling as if another person were speaking through you, you described the way to the secluded balcony, and without another word, he hung up on you. Just like that.

You took a deep breath, hiding your face in your hands for a few seconds to contemplate your options. You weren’t actually doing it on a balcony, right?

You quickly turned around when you heard the glass door being opened. He was quicker than you'd thought, but on the other hand, he was an agent after all, so what did you expect?

His eyes looked even darker than before, hair slightly tousled, and his neck had turned into a slightly reddish tone. To others, he looked like he always did. To you, however, he looked like he was worked up to the point of no return. And you knew he was.

You suppressed a nervous chuckle. “You found me.”

“I did,” he said humorlessly as he closed the door behind him.

Slowly, he took a few steps forward until he stood right in front of you. With his eyes still locked on yours, he placed his hands on the railing, caging you in as he looked down at you.

“Do you have any idea how risky that is?” He asked in a low voice.

“I mean…the bedroom door is locked, right?”

“And what’s with the other hundreds of potential spectators?”  

Well, he was right. You were surrounded by several skyscrapers. There was no way this was happening. 

You stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity until he ultimately crashed his lips onto yours and sealed them with a hungry kiss.

He gently pushed you against the railing, the cold metal pressing into your skin, right through the thin layer of your dress.

In an instant, your hands pulled him closer to you, grabbing onto his tie, which had started to loosen already.

The kisses were messy and needy, with teeth clashing together and occasional gasps whenever Leon pushed you back against the railing.

“We should leave,” you mumbled against his lips, still holding onto his tie for dear life.

“We should,” he confirmed, without breaking the kiss. It was clear that none of you made the effort to actually leave. By now, it felt like there was a magnetic pull holding you together. The panting from both of you grew louder and more desperate, almost drowning out the traffic noise, if that was even possible. All you could see, hear, and taste was Leon.

“You and this dress are the reason I can't fucking concentrate,” he hissed, squeezing your ass through your dress. “I love you so much, but goddamn, you can be such a tease.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” you panted, as his lips wandered down your neck. “May I remind you that you were the one who fingered me under the table? So don't play innocent.”

You could feel him grinning against your skin.

“Mhm, true,” he simply muttered.

“You are pretty quiet for someone that moaned into the phone that she wants to be fucked just two minutes ago,” he whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“I didn't expect you to actually-“

Before you could finish your sentence, he pulled your dress up just slightly and sneaked his hand under the fabric, heading straight to your soaked panties. There had already started to build a wet patch from him toying with you earlier.

“What? That I actually do this?” He huffed as he slipped his fingers under the fabric. With ease he found your clit again, circling it in a gentle motion.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered, hands gripping onto the railing as you felt the cold breeze hitting your intimate parts, combined with the warmth of his calloused fingers.

One hand held you back against the cold metal, while the other stroked through your folds, spreading your wetness all over you.

“You were so close to cumming, hm? Under the table,” he breathed against your lips, rubbing you a little tighter while pressing his lips to yours again. You could only nod, feeling your bud becoming more sensitive by the second. This was even better than getting fingered under the table.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbled before getting on his knees. Your eyes shot open, hands still holding the railing behind you.

“Leon-“

“We can stop anytime,” he said, hooking the fingers in the waistbands. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked, looking up at you with dark eyes.

“No, please go on,” you whispered, closing your eyes when you felt him pushing up your dress just enough to get access to your throbbing cunt. He leaned forward and started lapping at you right away, knowing that there wasn’t enough time to tease you like he normally did. He went straight into you, eating you out as if he were starving, all the while holding your thighs open for him.

You moaned his name, arching your back just right so your pelvis was at the perfect angle meeting his tongue. He alternated between kitten-like licks and sucking on it with the perfect amount of pressure. In a matter of seconds you felt your orgasm approaching, your walls clenching around nothing.

He took one of your legs and lifted it slightly over his shoulder for better access. That way, he could lick you even better, his tongue going deeper into you and causing your eyes to roll back in your head. He sped up his movements, fully making out with your pussy now, moaning when he tasted your arousal.

By now, he was sure he knew what the term "blue balls" meant because never in his life had he ever been this pent up. The mixture between the ongoing teasing and the adrenaline rushing through his body from doing something taboo turned him on so much that he was fearing he might come in his pants if he kept going.

“Fuck Leon I’m gonna-“ You sobbed, one hand tangling in his hair and pushing him just slightly against you for more friction.

“Doing so well for me, sweetheart,” he praised between licks, moaning when he felt you riding against his tongue. “Cum for me,” he urged, feeling you tremble under his touch.

And you did, more intensely than you thought you could, given the circumstances. Your orgasm washed over you, causing you to shudder, electricity running through your whole body.

Your lower body moved against him as he kept licking you through your high, doing his best to give you the maximum amount of pleasure. With a satisfied hum, he lapped at you a few more times, gathering all the arousal he could on his tongue.

“Shit,” you muttered as you tried to catch your breath, watching as he got up. His eyes were dark, hair messy, and lips glistening with your lust.

You watched him in awe before pulling him down to you, kissing him and tasting yourself on his lips.

“As much as I’d love to stretch it out….we need to be a littler quicker,” he panted.

“I know.” You nodded, reaching for your panties that were still sitting at knee level. You thought he meant leaving this place finally and finishing at home, but that was not what his true intention was. Far from it.

Suddenly he spun you around, his body caging you in like before, just in a different position. You gasped when you felt him press himself against you, his erection grinding against your ass. Holding onto the railing, you looked out into the skyline, wondering if this was even real anymore.

“I’m not gonna last until home, baby,” he whispered into your ear. “I need you now.”

“Oh god…” you whispered, your cunt clenching at his words. If your friends were ever to ask you again what your wildest sex experience was, this would make it easily the number one top.

“Is that okay? Do you still want this?” He asked in a raspy voice, his words ringing in your ear.

“Yes please, fuck me already,” you begged, rubbing yourself against him impatiently.

“Thank god,” he said huskily, pulling up your dress a little higher.

You looked behind you, watching as he opened his belt with light hands. God, this man was hotter than anything you could have ever imagined. Not that you didn’t know this already, but he proved it to you time and time again.

He pulled down his pants just enough to free his thick cock, basically presenting it to you. Your mouth watered at the sight. The tip was red already, glistening with pre-cum. You didn’t know if you were imagining it, but if you concentrated enough, you were sure you saw his member throbbing in his hand.

You would have loved to wrap your lips around him, giving him the sloppiest blowjob you could think of.

“Another time,” he hummed, watching your hungry gaze, as if he could read your mind. “Lean forward for me, love,” he said, hands gripping your hips as he helped you adjust your stance.

“You look so goddamn perfect,” he muttered under his breath, watching your glistening sex as he gave himself a few good strokes with one hand. The other stayed on your hip, gripping into your skin.

You bent forward a little more, gripping tightly onto the railing as he finally aligned himself at your entrance. You were slick with arousal, making it rather easy for him to enter you. With a groan he bottomed out, feeling your tightness engulfing his member in the most perfect way.

“Fuck,” he cursed, closing his eyes at the sensation of your tight pussy around him.

“Mhm, Leon, this feels so good,” you moaned, feeling him stretching you out, the angle making it even better.

His hands stayed on your hips as he started moving, thrusting into you with a slow pace at first to test your reactions. Each thrust felt better than the one before, gliding perfectly against your walls.

When you opened your eyes again, you looked into the night, the city moving at its own pace, blissfully unaware of the action happening this far up here. Your initial hesitation was swiftly replaced by nothing other than lust, your mind slowly starting to get cock-drunk.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked, picking up the pace just slightly. “Getting fucked on a balcony by your husband?” The way he was emphasizing the word husband with his strained voice, caused your walls to flutter around him.

His hand gripped your chin and turned your face to him, searching for your lips as he kept fucking you against the railing. Your lips crashed against each other, smudging your lipstick all over your mouth.

“I love you so much,” he panted in your mouth, hands gripping more tightly into the flesh of your hips to keep you at the perfect angle. “Your pussy’s taking me so fucking well.”

“Oh god yes,” you groaned, knuckles turning white by how tightly you gripped onto the railing. As he kept pounding into you, he looked down to where your bodies were connected, enjoying the erotic sight of his cock disappearing into your tightness. He pressed his hand against your upper back, causing you to bend down even lower.

By now, your dress had slipped above your ass, giving Leon an even more enticing view.

Your eyes rolled back when he changed the angle, hitting your g-spot in an impeccable way.

“Leon-,” you whimpered, the rest of your words dying in your throat when you felt his hand drifting between your legs. This time he didn’t start slow. He matched his movements with the pace of his thrusts, drawing tight and fast circles over your sensitive clit.

You started getting tighter around his cock with every movement, making it impossible to keep your eyes open.

“Shit…I’m not gonna last much longer, baby,” Leon gasped, pressing kisses along your neck, all the places he could still reach with the position you were in.

“Please don’t stop! I’m so close,” you whined. “Please fuck me harder Leon.”

The obscene sounds of skin clapping against skin filled your ears as he did what you begged him for. He pounded you harder against the cold metal, holding you tightly to keep you safe and secure still. 

At some point, you couldn't tell up from down anymore. His hands were everyhwere. On your hips, tangled in your hair or on your tits, toying with the soft flesh in his hand. 

“You okay?” He asked through gritted teeth, chasing his high as he felt the first spasms of your walls around him.

“Yes yes yes,” you cried out into the night when you felt your release rushing through your body. Rarely had an orgasm felt as intense and delectable as this one. All that pent-up desire suddenly dissolved. Leon followed right behind you, spilling his hot seed inside you. His thick ropes of cum filled you, marking you from the inside. Just the way he liked it.

„Fuck,“ He groaned, fucking you a few more times, securing you were taking every last drop of him. Something about cumming inside you drove his mind wild.

A variety of curses left his mouth as he kept moving lazily inside you. Both of your releases were mixed, the first drops already making their way down your legs. This was going to be one hell of a mess.

Your legs trembled, the aftershocks of your intense lovemaking still tingling in your core.

“Hey, careful,” Leon said out of breath, helping you to get back on your feet properly. “Hold on tight for me,” he mumbled lowly as he helped you pull your panties back up. You just stood there, catching your breath, trying to return to reality. He then straightened your dress as best as he could.

“Thank you.” You whispered, shakingly turning around to face him again. He was busy putting himself back in his pants, looking just as chaotic and messy as you were. His tie was hanging loosely from his neck, his shirt was crinkled, and the hair tousled.

“You’re looking….”

“Freshly fucked?” He asked with a grin, fastening the belt on his pants.

“Yeah.”

He looked up, brushing his thumb over the smudged the lipstick with a gentle smile. “I could say the same about you,” he chuckled.

You looked into each other's eyes, still panting, chest heaving with ragged breath. Slowly, the sounds of the city started returning to your orbit. It felt like waking up from a dream. A wonderful, sexy, and illicit dream.

“We are really fucking crazy,” you said.

“You definitely are,” he laughed, kissing your temple and pulling you flush against his chest.

“Hey, this was your idea!” You retorted, playfully acting offended.

“I only had this idea because you were driving me insane the whole day,” he said, caressing your back a few more times before reaching for your hand.

Like teenagers sneaking out past their bedtime, you made your way back through the corridors until you reached one of the bathrooms. You freshened up as best as you could, helping each other to look presentable, at least for another one or two hours max.

“We should hurry up or else they file a missing persons report for us,” you joked, drying your hands after washing them.

Leon was already done, leaning against the sink. He had been eyeing you the past minutes like a man falling in love over again.

“Did you listen to me?” You asked when you noticed his gaze.

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking your hand to guide you to the door. “I was just thinking about how much I love and appreciate you. Even after all these years. And I thought you should know that,” he confessed suddenly.

You blushed a little, your heart skipping a beat at his words.

“Do you just say this because we had some freaky public sex?” You asked teasingly.

“No I don’t,” he muttered, kissing you one last time. “Even though the sex helped for sure,” he grinned.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes playfully with a smile, dragging him out of the bathroom.

When you returned, your whole table was empty. Most of them were either at the bar or had switched to other tables.

Leon and you exchanged a look, silently communicating whether you should just leave, but it was too late. A familiar voice greeted you.

“There you are,” the forensic guy from earlier said a little surprised, taking a seat at your table. “You guys totally missed the dessert! Was wondering where you went.”

You took a sip of your wine before answering. Leon's eyes were glued on you, barely able to contain the smirk that tugged on the corner of his lips. How would you tell this poor man that your private dessert had already been served on the balcony?

As if on command, the other guests from your table returned one by one, watching you with genuine worry in their eyes.

“I am sorry. I needed some fresh air and Leon looked after me,” you explained apologetically with a soft smile playing on your lips.

“He was so worried for me,” you continued.

“Well, I hope you feel better then,” one of them said, looking back and forth between you and Leon.

“Oh, I feel much better, thank you,” you said with a satisfied smile.

“Seems like you guys are really made for each other,” another man chimed in, holding up his glass and gesturing in your direction.

“We really are,” Leon and you said in unison, causing the whole table to laugh in admiration of your bond. If someone had told you this morning that you’d end up getting fucked on a balcony by your husband, you’d probably burst out laughing. On the other hand, it didn’t surprise you. You were simply unable to keep your hands to yourself, but who could blame you?  

Your marriage would never get boring. Not with this wonderful man by your side.

Final Note: I hope you enjoyed it! As always, feedback is very much appreciated and means the world to me! No matter if its comments, likes, reblogs. I appreciate the support so much. 💗

My Leon Kennedy masterlist can be found: here

If you want to be tagged in future stories, feel free to reach out to me here or in the comments (I have one for Leon and one for Carlos. You can also be added to both ofc 😊)

Also: if you want to, you can always slide in my inbox and have a chat with me 🫶🏻

The words spilled from Mattheo’s mouth like poison, and three things happened immediately.

First, you couldn’t remember how to breath; the single thing your body was designed to do automatically was suddenly broken.

Next, you felt a scream, a cry in your throat ripping through you, gaining momentum as it pinged off every place you felt pain, which was everywhere.

And third, you felt the molten hot touch of anger, of rage, of shame for being hopelessly, soul-crushingly in love with him when he could turn around and say, “You’re great, I’m just… not feeling it. It’s about to be summer, you know? Better to let us have our own fun.”

As if this somehow benefited you too.

As if he wasn’t crumbling the very walls of the world around you as he confirmed what you’d always feared: the two of you were grossly mismatched. He was the prince of the school, he was smirked lips, a cigarette between his fingers, ice cold stares and hands that ran hot over your body. He was stolen glances and whispered promises, lies you now realized.

"You’re fucking perfect."

"You’re all I can think about."

Though never those three big words. And by the grace of Salazar you’d held them in too, even though you felt them, and would have sold them to him for a kiss and a prayer.

And you?

You were lovely in your own right, relatively popular, but it was no secret that you and Mattheo had caught everyone by surprise. You had been cautious, careful, wary at first but logic and reason soon gave way to desire, too content with his attention and the way his lips captured yours, the way he’d hold your chin in place, captivating you, to think through the consequences.

So you came to define yourself by him. Who were you? Riddle’s girl. A Slytherin, a libra, sure, but you were first and foremost Riddle’s girl.

Until you weren’t.

People walking by eyed your conversation with low whispers as they passed and Mattheo took a quick drag of his dwindling cigarette before dropping it to the floor and crushing it, like your heart.

You still couldn’t find your breath and you still couldn’t find your words and the world began to blur behind fat tears you didn’t want him to see, so you held your head high, pushed past him, and walked away.

If you’d learned anything in your time as his girlfriend, in the year spent with his group of friends, it was the art of hiding your emotions behind an implacable facade.

Mattheo stuck his tongue into his cheek, his eyes narrowing at your reaction, as he watched you walk away from him, forgetting that there were several other things they had taught you as well.

Anger.

How to hold a grudge.

And revenge.

You stumbled into your room, slamming the door behind you and wiped furiously at the tears that refused to stop pouring, hiccupping as you fought against your body’s every desire to break down.

You were taking gasping breaths, trying to find your air as you paced back and forth, your eyes squeezed shut, your mind a whirlpool of painful memories, trying to dissect what had ever been true and what had been a lie and failing miserably.

Then, a particular memory appeared like a spell.

Enzo breaking up with some girl last year, her running from the Great Hall, the way her cries echoed off the stone walls as he nonchalantly grabbed a roll and stuffed it in his face. Your eyebrow quirked; were they really all so heartless? "Better to cut if off now," he said, emotionless. "She was far too into me. I mean, do I look like I’m settling any time soon?" He'd laughed. The guys had laughed along with him. You rolled your eyes. "Girls come and go," Theo agreed, "But boys are forever" he smirked, raising his glass as they all shared a toast. Mattheo had at least had the decency to press a kiss to your cheek, which made you think you were somehow exempt, above their rule of law and the loyalty that held them together.

You stopped pacing and slumped into your chair as you stared out the window, tears drying as you watched the late spring sun settle into the highlands.

Slowly, ever so slowly as you watched it disappear, setting the world in an unforgiving darkness, your agony gave way to something new, something iron hot.

You stood, grabbed your quill, and ripped a piece of parchment haphazardly as you steadied yourself enough to write with such force you nearly tore through the page.

1. Blaise 2. Draco 3. Lorenzo 4. Theo

A slow smile crested your lips.

Mattheo was well practiced in exuding indifference. But he’d be lying if he said your reaction didn’t bother him.

He thought he was ready to let it go, to get on with his summer, to get the fuck out of Hogwarts and get into some proper debauchery with his friends. But he’d been with you longer than anyone else and as such he’d been steeling himself for you to scream, to cry, to fight back, to call him names, to hex him, to beg him to stay. But he got nothing. And that left him in a mental pretzel.

He twiddled with his lighter.

He’d already checked and you’d blocked him on every social.

He nudged Blaise. “Give me your phone.”

Blaise side eyed him, ready to argue, before Mattheo plucked it out of his hands.

He opened the first app he could find and searched your name.

Nothing.

“She’s off the grid, mate. Think she deleted everything.”

"Hmpf." He tossed the phone aside and lay his head back on the common room couch.

Two nights later you were home, sitting amongst your trunk and a pile of clothing, unpacking for the summer, when Mattheo texted you.

"Ifcked up. Canwe tkl?"

Drunk.

Your fingers hovered over your phone and you thought about it, really thought about it for several moments, because isn't this exactly what you wanted? To talk? To get him back?

You bit your bottom lip.

No.

What you wanted was never to have had your heart shattered in the first place. What you wanted was for the ache in your chest to dissipate, to go fifteen minutes without crying, to stop replaying every moment of the last year with him on repeat.

What you really, truly wanted was for him to feel a modicum of the pain you felt now.

(1) BLAISE ZABINI.

Blaise was easy.

He was the kindest of the group, the one you were closest to. It almost made you feel bad.

Almost.

He had texted you immediately the day Mattheo had broken up with you to make sure you were okay, and within a week he stopped by your house to check on you. You opened the door, a wobbling pout on your lips.

“Ah, dammit, come here” he’d said, welcoming you into his strong arms.

He was warm from the sun and smelled clean and fresh. You found genuine comfort in his embrace but you pulled back slowly, your cheeks brushing, and you turned your head to press your lips to his before either of you could think about it.

You waited for him to pull back.

He didn’t.

You let it linger, feeling him return the gentle pressure. And then...

“Oh, gods, I’m-I’m so sorry, Blaise. I’m such a mess” you said, pulling back and covering your face with your hands, feigning embarrassment. "Please let’s forget that ever happened."

“Yeah, n-no worries, it’s alright YN” he conceded, a smile on his lips.

(2) DRACO MALFOY.

Draco was going to be harder.

He was shrewd... but he was also soft and it was far too easy to bump into him in the small town not far from his parents' place.

He, too, managed to have compassion for you in his cloudy grey eyes and one drink together at the pub on the corner turned into two, as you gently, easily stroked his ego, and fed him the praise you knew he so desperately adored.

“Surely they’ll make you head boy next year, Draco, there’s no one better suited to it. You’re the smartest, most cunning of our class.” You smiled at him under lidded eyes, moving to adjust his collar, letting your fingers brush his throat where you saw his adam’s apple bob.

You reached onto tiptoes and let your lips slide over his, soft and warm. He squeezed your waist, clearly struggling to decide whether to pull you in or push you away.

You stepped back, enjoying how starstruck he looked as you bit your lip flirtatiously.

“Enjoy your summer, Draco” you said, before sauntering away.

(3) LORENZO BERKSHIRE.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t leaving Enzo as a little treat for yourself.

You planned a girls' night out that just so happened to be at his favorite club in London on the same night that his favorite DJ was playing. What were the odds!?

Then, you bumped into him like it was the purest coincidence on the outskirts of the dancefloor and he forgot not to stare as his jaw dropped and eyes blew wide. He’d never seen you like … this: skin aglow, a carefree smile, flushed cheeks and glossed lips, bright eyes that twinkled when they saw him, and as predicted he was thinking with his dick long before he knew what hit him. You were hot, like hot hot, he’d always thought so but now … now you were broken up, single, right? And you were looking at him like maybe the exact same thing was going through your mind.

It went a little further than you expected.

One minute you were hugging each other, laughing at the coincidence, and within 22 minutes his tongue was down your throat as he lifted you and pressed you into the wall as his hand swirled beneath your dress.

You left that night laughing, dizzy, and buzzed.

(4) THEODORE NOTT.

Theo was always going to be the hardest.

He wasn’t your friend like Blaise, he wasn’t soft like Draco and he wasn’t easy like Lorenzo; he was Mattheo’s best friend and he wasn’t going to fall for your bullshit.

But a year in his presence taught you exactly what made him tick; you knew his likes, his dislikes, his weaknesses, his fantasies, it’s amazing what guys will say after a few too many whiskeys late into the night.

So on a Sunday afternoon at the coffee shop in Little Italy next to the best bakery in town while wearing a dress that screamed summer in Positano that sat high on your thighs, with strappy sandals, a tinted lip and winged eyeliner you knew you had him the second he saw you.

"YN?" He asked. "What are you doing here?"

His voice was accusatory like you had encroached on his space, but he couldn’t hide the way his dark eyes landed on every inch of you, like he wanted to look away but couldn’t.

"I was thinking of you, actually" you admitted sheepishly. "You always talked about this place, I thought I’d tried it and see if the espresso was as good as you said it was..." You paused for dramatic effect, let your eyes fall, your lip quiver. "I can get it to go–"

"–No, no, sit, you can’t drink it out of plastic" he said vehemently, pulling out the seat beside him.

For a few moments it was uncomfortably quiet. You took small sips, set your cup down. The cafe was small, and you were pressed nearly shoulder to shoulder. You mustered your courage and turned to look at him; at this distance you could smell him like cigarettes and cologne, could feel his warmth against you.

"Theo," you started quietly. "For what it's worth, I never believed what Mattheo said about you."

He reared back, confused.

You continued, mirroring his confusion. "You know, that you only get girls because your Italian? And they think it’s exotic and–"

"–He said that?" He muttered, genuine hurt in his voice that you told yourself you'd feel bad about later because that hurt, that vulnerability was all you needed.

You leaned in quick, chaste, pressing your lips to his and then pulling away, even though you felt his fingers lingering on your thigh.

"I said too much, I should go" you muttered, rising to leave before he could stop you.

You waited until you rounded the corner to smile.

Your silence that summer drove Mattheo absolutely crazy.

And for some reason his friends seemed awfully quiet too.

He was actually looking forward to coming back to school, to getting his head on straight.

Until you passed him in the hall.

"YN?" he said before he could stop himself, more of an outward expression than an effort to get your attention, because you looked… great.

“Hi, Mattheo” you said, warm and genuine.

“Have a good summer?" he asked.

“A really great summer, actually! Just busy, full of fun, tried a lot of new things" you swallowed your smiled. "You?"

“Yeah, a bit quiet" he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know, the guys were busy..."

Got him.

"Yeah, Enzo’s trip to Ibiza sounded amazing though" you quipped.

His eyes shot to yours. He didn’t know Enz went to Ibiza.

"And Theo finally getting to see his family on the Med?" you continued, unwavering, "Plus Blaise and Draco seeing Mumford and Sons? I die! About time, don’t you think?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed. He didn’t know any of that. And if you weren’t even on socials… how did you...?

You could see the gears turning.

“...I didn’t know” he admitted.

“Oh!” you feigned a look of genuine surprise before you pursed your lips innocently. "But Mattheo," you said curiously, stepping towards him, getting right up in his grill as you reached to straighten his tie, "I thought you and your friends were inseparable? What was it? Girls come and go but boys are forever? Or is that that just what you tell yourselves about your loyalty to one another?"

Your eyes met his and burned hot with a fire he could feel coming off of you that made his heart drop into his stomach.

“Perhaps they’re not as loyal to you as you think” you whispered against his ear, before letting go of him with a light shove and brushing past him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” he shouted after you.

You smirked without turning around.

That night each of the boys sat on their respective four poster beds in amiable silence; on their phones, flipping through the Quidditch Times. Mattheo twirled his lighter in his fingers, faster, faster, faster, stewing as he side-eyed the boy to his left.

If looks could kill, there would be nothing but a pile of ash on Lorenzo Berkshire’s bed, because Mattheo knew it was him who betrayed him. He knew he eye-fucked you constantly, knew he had next to no morals to begin with. His fingers itched for his wand but before he could think better of it he erupted.

“The fuck happened with you and YN?” he said loudly, angrily, like a growl. His hands and eyes stayed on his lighter in an effort not to kill his alleged best friend.

The room quieted to the creak of a single floorboard and the echo of laughter down the hall.

No one so much as breathed.

And then.

“Look—”

“Mate—”

“She!—”

“Amico…”

His head wrenched up to see all four of his friends, eyes wide, staring back and forth at each other, before looking back at him.

Draco was as red as an apple.

Blaise was visibly sweating.

Lorenzo wore a lazy pout, not nearly as upset as he should be.

And Theo looked down at his hands.

The sum total of everyone Mattheo cared about, everyone he trusted was in this room. And as an uncomfortable silence echoed around him he realized with an aching heart that in a single summer he’d not only lost the only girl he’d ever loved, but he lost the loyalty and trust of the only brothers he’d ever known.

Reader POV

It took all of your strength to tear your eyes off the back of Jared’s head and look at the man guarding him from your view. Paul stood at Jared’s side and was just as adamant in ignoring you. Why won’t they turn around?

“What the fuck have you got to say for yourselves huh?! What’s wrong with you Samuel!” Leah screamed, wrapping her arm protectively around your shoulders. “You taking drugs or something? First you go missing, then these dickheads stop answering our texts, and now you three look like a bunch of gym junkies!!”

Sam’s worried expression hardened into an angry mask as he looked down his nose at her. “It’s none of your business, Leah. We’ve been busy with things much more important than hanging around with a bunch of girls.” he harshly gritted through his clenched jaw. Ouch.

“More important?! Maybe you’ve forgotten, but we are your FRIENDS. We were worried sick about you!” Leah shot back, poking her head around Sam’s side, “And don’t get me started on you, fuckwits! I’ve been doing my best to stop Y/N from going crazy for TWO WEEKS!”

The pair of them stopped breathing and turned to look at each other. Seeing Jared’s side profile, and how it had sharpened in such a short amount of time, was painful for you to accept. He was noticeably taller, his soft jawline had been carved into an angular square, and his eyes had hardened. The look of worry on his face confused you. He’s the one that ghosted me, and now he’s hurt? Your boyfriend looked like a different person - and maybe he was.

“Paul, I’m not surprised you’re being as cruel as ever, but you Jared… you’re honestly a disappointment.” Leah said with a disgusted tone.

Still, he refused to turn around. Still, he refused to speak.

Your body shook with sobs as you looked at the three boys you once thought were your friends. Is this really how it’s going to end? “You need to leave. I’m sorry, Y/N”, was all Sam could say in the face of your heartbreak. You couldn’t believe this was happening, not until you heard it from Jared himself.

“Jared?” You whispered, hurt seeping through your little voice. “W-why won’t you even look at me. Did I do something wrong?” You walked out of Leah’s comforting grasp, and reached around Sam to grab Jared’s warm bicep. The muscle tightened under your fingers and the sheer size of it shocked you. His head dropped as he took shaky breaths.

“Baby… I’m sorry.” His deep voice sent a wave of comfort through you; even if what he said cut you deep. “Please, please look at me, Jar” you begged. At this point, if you had to crawl through broken glass to see his beautiful smile again you would do it.

His head shot up and he turned to Sam. After a minute of silence, the older man gave a slight nod and Jared turned warily towards you. Paul grabbed his shoulder and the two exchanged a look of solidarity. What the fuck is happening?! Your mind was reeling with confusion and pain.

Finally, his eyes slowly raked up your body and locked with your watery pupils. He stood so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, as he searched your gaze for what felt like eternity before he let out a defeated sigh. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want it to end like this -“ No no no no no!

You saw red. Weeks of worrying about your boyfriend has led to this - a public break up in front of the only friends you had. “What?! So you’re serious? Are… are you breaking up with me?”, you cut him off, angry sobs spilling from your lips. He flinched back as if you’d slapped him; and you wished you had. “It’s not working out. I’ve had some time to myself and I-I don’t think we’re right for each other.” He whispered.

Throwing your hands onto his pecs, you felt your world falling apart. “What did I do wrong? I gave you everything I have! I thought you loved me.”You cried, pounding his chest with your weak fists. You knew this was pathetic, but your heart had been ripped out and drowned in the ocean behind you. All you could do was cry and beg. You had nothing left.

“I will always love you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead and removing himself from your desperate grip.

Leah pulled you back protectively cocooning you in her arms, “You’re a real piece of shit, Jared Cameron.” She growled at your now ex-boyfriend.

“Why don’t you two run along now, we’ve got plans.” Sam said in a polite tone that was ruined by his snarled expression.

Jared turned to run down the beach and Sam followed suit. You stood in Leah’s arms, watching your life walk away from you. A deep breath beside you reminded you that Paul hadn’t left yet. Is he here to gloat? To rub it in that I’m not good enough?

You were ready to shout in his face - scream to the high heavens about how this was all his fault - when your throat closed. His dark eyes shone with a warmth so bright it could fill the cracks of your broken heart. You completely forgot why you were even standing on the beach in the first place. The only clear thought you could understand was a single sentence floating through your mind.

Oh my god… he’s beautiful.

The earth below you fell away and all you saw was Paul. His tall tanned physique, the curve of his thin lips, the shape of his adoring eyes. You took in every feature that made up his frame, and drank it in like you’d never seen him before.

Looking at Paul Lahote felt like coming home.

What the FUCK is happening to me!

Paul POV

Hearing the way you broke down as Jared left was the worst sound Paul had ever heard. You had been living through hell without Jared and now he’d left you with the weakest of excuses. Paul knew his friend was forced into doing this and he was going to suffer for months after this; but that didn’t make it any easier to hear your beautiful voice begging for him to stay.

Sam’s harsh words probably didn’t help the situation either, but he really was just trying to keep you girls safe.

Leah stared daggers through Paul’s head and it was clear his presence wasn’t welcome. He knew he should leave but the howling cries of his wolf forced him to stay. Mine! MINE! the gravely voice in his head demanded.

Mine? Paul questioned. And before he knew it, the most mouthwatering smell known to man washed over him. The wind had picked up along the shore and a gust of your sweet scent rippled through his senses. He took a deep breath and savoured the way it calmed his wolf. Holy shit!

You pulled your eyes away from Jared’s retreating form and turned to Paul with a wildly angry look. She’s so hot when she’s angry, he thought to himself and his wolf happily agreed.

Then it happened.

Your pupils dilated and your face melted into a look of mesmerised affection. Paul thought he was dreaming. His soul pulled forward in his chest and reached for you like long lost lovers. The sound of your heartbeat echoed through Paul’s head as every loose thread in his life wrapped around you. The way your eyes took him in filled his wolf with pride - he made a point to puff out his chest and tense every muscle he owned. Paul would’ve spent a century here in comfortable silence with you, but life never did work in his favor.

A look of panic and confusion formed on your face and you turned to Leah. “We will be leaving now” Leah snapped, forcing your hand into hers and dragging you down the beach. NO!

A low growl sounded through Paul’s teeth as he reached to keep you close. You flinched away from him but kept intense eye contact as Leah continued to walk you off the beach. He knew you weren’t in the right place to accept what happened, but he thought surely you would’ve fought to stay by his side… at least for a few more minutes.

Paul was going crazy, split down the middle with mixed emotions. The man wanted to laugh and shout with joy that you were finally his. The wolf wanted to sink his teeth into the next person he saw - his imprint had just walked away without a single word.

In mere seconds, Paul ran for the trees and phased. Bursting through his human skin, the visions of you played through his mind on repeat. SHE’S MINE! Y/N IS MINE!!! he happily shouted through the empty pack mind. Sharing a brain with his friends wasn’t a great perk of being a shifter and Paul was grateful to be stuck on solo patrol for once. Howls of joy rang through the forest as he bounded towards your house.

The pull of the imprint bond was like his own navigation system leading him to you. Paul had always been drawn to you, and now he knew you would feel it too. As your backyard came into view, he sunk to the forest floor and watched your window for signs of life. The heartbeats coming from upstairs told him that you and Leah had made it home safe.

“Lee Lee… did Paul feel different to you?” your voice traveled through your bedroom window and Paul’s ears perked up. She’s thinking about me!

“Same as always hun, don’t worry about him. Fucker probably made Jared break up with you” Leah bitterly remarked. DID NOT! he growled to himself. You let out a surprised gasp, “oh right. I kinda forgot about that…”

“What? You forgot that Paul’s a jerk, or that Jared broke up with you?” Leah Joked.

“Um, honestly both.” You said in a dazed voice. Paul scoffed at the thought that he was a jerk but continued listening. She forgot about Jared? Shit, maybe this imprint thing really is strong.

“What?! Y/N you’re not going into shock are you? You’re taking this whole breakup thing a lot better than I thought you would. I mean you were screaming and crying, but the second Jared left you were like, completely fine.” Leah asked as you both walked downstairs.

“I don’t know Lee, I might be crazy but something happened with Paul,” You admitted and Paul held his breath, “When I looked at him I felt like I saw his soul. Like every piece of him was on show. And now I say it out loud I think I’m definitely going crazy!”

Paul felt your panic in his own chest as you spiralled. The two of you stepped out onto the back porch and the grey wolf sighed in relief seeing your beautiful face glowing in the sunlight.

“Calm down, it’s ok! Jared completely fucked you over, I’m sure you’re just confused right now and definitely haven’t processed it, babe.” Leah reassured you.

“I think you’re right. I just can’t stop thinking about Paul. My brains probably trying to distract me from Jared but honestly girl, I felt like I was being pulled towards him. It was SUPER weird” You said, dropping down onto the back stairs.

He could tell you were deep in thought as you ignored everything that came out of Leah’s mouth. Cutting her off mid-sentence you asked, “Lee… do you think Paul really does hate me?” Oh my god please Leah, please say something nice! Tell her she’s wrong!!!

“Paul hates practically everything, but honestly I’ve never seen him be rude to anyone like he is to you. It’s like you pissed in his rain boots or something.” She said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You sighed and nodded quietly.

LEAH CLEARWATER I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS! Paul couldn’t stop the furious bark he let out - Leah was ruining his chances before he even made a move.

Paul stayed flat on his stomach, watching you closely for another hour before he had to return to patrolling. Leaving you with his heart, he silently promised to prove you wrong. There was nothing in this life that he cared about more than you. He would do everything he could to see you as soon as possible.

Now, in your seventh year, the game had become exhausting.

In the corridors, it was always the same.

He’d lean against the stone wall with his arms crossed, surrounded by his usual crowd of Slytherins, and call out loudly enough for everyone to hear:

“Still saving lost causes, love? Careful, one day that bleeding heart of yours is going to get you killed.”

You’d stop, turn slowly, and fire back without missing a beat.

“At least I have a heart, Riddle. Can’t say the same for you and the rest of your death-eater fan club.”

The crowd would snicker. But his eyes….. his eyes never laughed. They burned.

Potions class was worse.

Professor Slughorn had paired you together for the Amortentia project. The entire room reeked of love potions and unspoken tension as you stood side by side at the cauldron.

“Try not to ruin this, Gryffindor,” Mattheo muttered under his breath, chopping ingredients with more force than necessary. His shoulder brushed yours every few seconds.

You shot him a glare. “Says the boy who reeks of cigarettes. Focus, or I’ll let you fail on your own.”

He leaned in closer than he needed to, voice low so only you could hear. “You act like you’re so much better than me. But I see the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching.” His breath ghosted against your ear. “Tell me, sweetheart… what does your Amortentia smell like right now?”

Your cheeks burned. The potion in front of you swirled with notes of cedarwood, smoke, and something dangerously familiar, the scent of old books and winter air that always seemed to cling to him. You refused to admit it.

“It smells like regret,” you hissed back, shoving his hand away when he reached for the stirrer. “Specifically, the regret of being stuck with you.”

Mattheo’s lips curved into that cruel, beautiful smirk, but his eyes darkened with something that looked a lot like hunger. “Liar.”

The tension only grew.

Late nights in the corridors after prefect rounds. Stolen moments in the Astronomy Tower where you’d both pretend you were there for completely different reasons. He’d mock your “naive optimism” while you called him a “heartless bastard.” Every insult felt heavier lately. Every lingering stare lasted longer.

Tonight was no different……until it was.

You’d been heading back from the library when you heard voices. Mattheo and a group of Slytherins talking in hushed, dangerous tones about something involving the Dark Mark and old family alliances. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when one of them sneered about “mudblood sympathizers,” you stepped out of the shadows.

“Still planning your little uprising?” you said loudly, arms crossed. “Some of us are trying to move on from the last war, you know.”

The group scattered quickly, leaving only Mattheo.

He turned on you slowly, eyes blazing. “Always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Maybe someone has to,” you snapped, stepping closer despite every warning bell in your head. “Because clearly you’re too busy drowning in your father’s shadow to see what you’re becoming.”

That hit a nerve.

Mattheo’s expression twisted. “You don’t know anything about me,” he growled, backing you toward the wall. “You prance around this castle like you’re some savior, but you’re just a naive little girl who’s going to get herself killed believing the best in monsters.”

Your heart hammered. “And you’re just a coward who pushes everyone away so no one sees how terrified you are of turning into him.”

The air between you crackled. His chest rose and fell rapidly, inches from yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The corridor felt too small, too dark, too charged.

Mattheo’s gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke again.

“You should stay the hell away from me.”

But he didn’t move. Neither did you.

The mask was cracking, you could both feel it. All those months of pretended hatred, sharp words, and stolen glances had finally reached their breaking point.

“You’re going to get your little Gryffindor friends killed with that naive bullshit,” Mattheo snarled, stepping closer, his voice echoing down the empty corridor.

“Softness like yours doesn’t survive in the real world. It gets people slaughtered. But you already know that, don’t you? Or did you forget what happened last time people like you tried to play hero?”

Your blood boiled. You shoved a finger into his chest, refusing to back down even as your voice shook with fury.

“And what would you know about survival, Riddle? You hide behind your family name and your dark little reputation because you’re terrified. Terrified of feeling anything real. Terrified that if you let yourself care about someone, about anything, you’ll end up just like him. A monster who destroys everything he touches.”

Mattheo laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was sharp and bitter. “Care? You think I care? About you and your pathetic little group of do gooders? Please. The only reason I even tolerate your existence is because watching you flounder around like some tragic heroine amuses me.”

“Liar,” you shot back, tears already stinging at the corners of your eyes. You hated how easily he could get under your skin.

“You’ve been watching me for months, Mattheo. Not because it amuses you, because you can’t look away. Every glare, every insult… you’re just as trapped in this as I am.”

He grabbed your wrist when you tried to turn away, grip firm but not painful. “Trapped? Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. You’re nothing but a distraction. A pretty little light I’ll eventually snuff out because that’s what my kind does.”

Your heart twisted. The words hurt more than they should have.

“You’re such a coward,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Hiding behind cruelty because you’re scared to admit that maybe…..just maybe….you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be. You push everyone away before they can see the truth.”

Mattheo’s eyes flashed dangerously. He released your wrist only to step even closer, towering over you, voice dropping into a venomous hiss.

“The truth? The truth is you’re going to die young and idealistic, just like the rest of them. Softness gets people killed. Your friends will fall first, then you. And when that happens, don’t come crying to me. I warned you.”

That was the breaking point.

The tears you’d been fighting finally spilled over, hot and humiliating as they tracked down your cheeks. You tried to swipe them away angrily, but more followed. All the months of tension, the pretending, the aching longing you’d buried under insults……it crashed over you at once.

Mattheo froze mid sentence.

His cruel expression shattered the second he saw the first tear glisten on your skin. His jaw tightened so hard you could see the muscle jump. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white. The anger in his eyes warred with something raw and desperate…….panic, maybe. Regret.

For a long, heavy moment, the only sound was your shaky, uneven breathing and the distant drip of water somewhere in the old stone walls.

He looked wrecked. Like your tears had physically struck him.

Then, voice low and utterly wrecked, angry at you, at the situation, but mostly at himself…..Mattheo growled:

“Come here.”

You didn’t move. Your feet felt rooted to the cold stone floor, tears still silently falling even as you tried to glare at him through the blur.

But Mattheo moved.

In two furious strides he closed the distance, his hand wrapping around your upper arm firm enough that there was no escaping him. He pulled you forward and spun you, backing you against the rough stone wall with a controlled intensity that made your breath hitch.

One arm slammed beside your head, caging you completely. His body heat radiated against yours, overwhelming and familiar in the worst possible way.

His other hand rose slowly, almost hesitantly, and his thumb brushed roughly across your wet cheek. He caught a tear like it personally offended him, like the sight of you crying was something he couldn’t stand to witness.

“Damn it,” he whispered, voice hoarse and low. His forehead dropped until it was nearly touching yours. You could see every flicker of torment in his dark eyes. “Touching you was a bad idea. I knew it. I’ve always known it.”

You swallowed hard, heart hammering so violently you were sure he could feel it. “Then why are you still doing it?” you breathed, voice trembling with leftover anger and something far softer.

Mattheo let out a shaky, bitter laugh that sounded more like a broken exhale. His thumb kept moving…..slow, deliberate strokes across your cheekbone, wiping away tears even as new ones fell.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot. Because no matter how many times I tell myself to stay away, you keep pulling me back in. With your stupid optimism. Your fire. The way you look at me like I’m not completely damned.”

His free hand moved to your chin, tilting it up with two fingers so gently it hurt. Your eyes locked. You were sharing the same air now….. warm, ragged breaths mingling between you. The scent of smoke and cedarwood and him filled your lungs. The corridor felt impossibly small. The rest of the world disappeared.

“Kissing you…” His voice cracked, raw and desperate. “Kissing you would just be a mistake. The worst fucking mistake I could make right now.”

You felt his words against your lips more than you heard them. He was so close. Too close. His body trembled with the effort of holding back, muscles rigid where they pressed against you.

“Mattheo…” you started, but he shook his head, thumb still tracing your tear streaked skin like he was memorizing the feel of you.

“We’ll both regret it,” he continued, the confession spilling out like he couldn’t stop it anymore.

“I’ll ruin you. My name, my blood, the shadows that follow me everywhere they’ll drag you down. You deserve better than this. Better than me. I’m poison, don’t you get that? One taste and you’ll never be the same. You’ll hate me for it. And I’ll hate myself more.”

His forehead finally rested fully against yours. You could feel the slight tremble in his frame, the war raging inside him. His restraint was fraying thread by thread.

Yet his hand stayed on your cheek. His body stayed pressed to yours. He wasn’t letting go.

You looked up at him through wet lashes, heart aching with equal parts fury and longing. The words left your lips before you could think better of them……soft, defiant, and devastating:

“Then regret me.”

Mattheo stilled completely. His breath hitched sharply. For one suspended heartbeat, the only sound was the pounding of your hearts and the distant echo of wind through the castle halls.

His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with something feral and broken. The last threads of his self control snapped.

“Fuck,” he growled, the word vibrating against your mouth. “You’re going to destroy me.”

He surged forward like a man who’d been drowning for months and finally stopped fighting the current.

His mouth crashed into yours with bruising force…..rough, angry, and utterly starving.

There was nothing careful or sweet about it. This was months of suppressed hunger, pretended hatred, and sleepless nights exploding all at once.

His lips claimed yours with desperate urgency, teeth grazing, tongue demanding entrance. He tasted like cigarettes, anger, and something darker…..something that felt like surrender.

One of his hands buried itself deep in your hair, fingers tightening almost painfully as he angled your head exactly how he wanted. The other slid down your side, gripping your waist hard and yanking your body flush against his until there was no space left between you.

The cold stone wall pressed into your back while Mattheo’s heat consumed you from the front. You could feel every inch of him…..the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his muscles tensed under your hands, the barely restrained tremble running through him.

You kissed him back just as fiercely. Your fingers twisted into the front of his shirt, pulling him down harder, closer, like you could fuse your souls together if you tried hard enough. A soft, needy sound escaped your throat and he swallowed it greedily, deepening the kiss until the world spun.

For a few blissful, devastating seconds, there was nothing but heat and teeth and the taste of salt from your earlier tears.

When he finally ripped his mouth away, you were both gasping for air. His chest heaved violently against yours. He pressed his forehead tightly to yours, eyes squeezed shut, breaths ragged and hot against your swollen lips.

His hands refused to leave your body….one still tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip possessively, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d vanish.

“That was the last time,” he rasped, voice hoarse and broken. “I swear to whatever’s left of my soul… that was the last fucking time.”

But even as he said it, his thumb traced your bottom lip, lingering, trembling. He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t.

You reached up, fingers brushing his sharp jaw. “Mattheo…”

“No,” he cut you off, voice cracking. “Don’t. Don’t make this harder.” He swallowed thickly, forehead still glued to yours as if it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“I’m not good for you. Don’t you understand that? My family, we destroy everything beautiful we touch. The blood on my name is cursed. The darkness… it clings to me. It follows me like a shadow and it will swallow you whole if I let it.”

His voice grew more strained, the self loathing pouring out in waves.

“My reputation alone would ruin you. People will whisper. They’ll look at you like you’re tainted just for standing next to me. You’re sweet. You’re light and hope and everything good this shitty world doesn’t deserve. And me? I’ll only drag you into hell with me. I’ll break you. I’ll watch the light in your eyes dim because of the things I’ve done… the things I’ll still have to do.”

He let out a shaky, bitter sound, half laugh, half sob and pressed his forehead harder against yours.

“This is a mistake,” he whispered, like a prayer he was begging the universe to hear. “This is a mistake. This is a mistake.”

The words repeated like a mantra, softer each time, his breath mingling with yours between every syllable. His hands still held you like you were the only real thing in his world. You could feel his heart thundering against your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

Yet despite the words, his lips hovered dangerously close again. His thumb kept stroking your cheek, your jaw, your lips reverent and desperate all at once.

“I should walk away right now,” he murmured brokenly, eyes still closed. “I should leave you here and never look back. That would be the right thing. The safe thing for you.” His voice dropped to a tortured whisper. “But I don’t think I can. Fuck… I don’t think I can anymore.”

Mattheo Riddle the boy who wore cruelty like armor was unraveling in your arms, forehead pressed to yours, repeating his desperate prayer while his body betrayed every word.

“This is a mistake…”

You stayed there, tangled together in the dark corridor, hearts pounding in perfect, frantic sync.

The castle around you felt distant and unreal just cold stone, flickering torchlight, and the two of you breathing the same air like it was the only oxygen left in the world.

Mattheo’s thumb continued its slow, reverent path across your bottom lip, his dark eyes tormented as they searched your face.

You watched the war rage behind them: the part of him that had spent years building walls of cruelty and isolation screaming at him to push you away forever, and the desperate, starving part that would rather burn the entire world down than let you slip through his fingers now.

“I should still walk away,” he whispered, voice rough with exhaustion and lingering self hatred. “Tell you this changes nothing. Tell you to forget my name and go back to your friends who won’t ruin your life.” His forehead stayed pressed to yours, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “But I’m so fucking tired of lying to both of us.”

You reached up, cupping his sharp jaw with trembling fingers. “Then stop lying,” you murmured. “Stop pretending you don’t feel this too.”

A shaky breath escaped him. Slowly, almost reverently this time, he leaned in again. This kiss was nothing like the first violent collision. It was slower, deeper, achingly tender but no less desperate.

His lips moved against yours like he was memorizing every second, every sigh, every tiny sound you made. One hand cradled the back of your head while the other traced down your spine, pulling you impossibly closer. You melted into him, fingers sliding into his dark curls, tugging gently as the kiss deepened.

There was still fire there, still that edge of fear and hunger, but underneath it was something new, something terrifyingly close to hope.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours once more, his voice was barely a whisper against your mouth.

“I’m going to regret this,” he murmured, the words laced with dark promise. “I know I will. Tomorrow, next week, when the world reminds me exactly who I am… I’ll regret dragging you into my mess.” He swallowed hard. “But right now? I don’t care anymore. I can’t care. Not when you’re looking at me like that.”

His fingers found yours in the space between your bodies, threading together and gripping tight, almost painfully so.

For the first time since you’d known him, the mask of cruel indifference was completely gone. No sneers. No sharp words meant to wound. All that remained was raw, terrifying, all consuming want and underneath it, a vulnerability that made your chest ache.

“Stay with me tonight,” he said. The words came out rough and uncertain, like he was half expecting you to push him away even now. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Just… stay. Let me hold you. Let me pretend for a few hours that I’m not a Riddle and you’re not too good for me. I need…..” His voice cracked. “I need you close. Please.”

You searched his eyes for a long moment, seeing every fear, every crack in his armor, every unspoken promise. Then you nodded, pressing your forehead back to his, noses brushing.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll stay.”

A shuddering breath left him relief, disbelief, and something deeper all at once. He pulled you away from the wall and into his chest, wrapping both arms around you like a lifeline. His chin rested on top of your head as he held you there in the quiet corridor.

“You know this changes everything,” he said quietly after a while, voice muffled against your hair. “No more pretending. No more insults to hide behind. If we do this… if you’re really mine, even for tonight… there’s no going back. People will talk. My family… my past… it won’t stay buried. You’ll be a target. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to protect you from all of it.”

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze. “Then we face it together. I’m not as fragile as you think, Mattheo. And you’re not as monstrous as you believe.”

He let out a soft, broken sound almost a laugh and kissed your forehead, then your temple, then the corner of your mouth.

“Merlin, you’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, but there was a faint, real smile tugging at his lips for the first time that night. “My sweet, stubborn Gryffindor.”

You stayed like that for a long time wrapped in each other, trading quiet words and softer kisses in the shadows. He told you pieces of his fears. You told him pieces of your hopes. The hatred you had both hidden behind for so long finally dissolved completely.

The corridor eventually led you toward the dungeons, toward hidden passages only he knew. As you walked hand in hand, fingers still tightly laced, the weight of what you’d chosen settled over both of you.

The hatred had always been pretend.

And now there was no pretending anymore.