#ravenclaw!reader

“I’ll have you know this is Zabini’s.” 

“Like that’s any better.” 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” You took a bite out of your muffin. “I don’t know why you’re upset. You’re not playing today.” 

“You’re one to talk about manners.” Roger scoffed. “Mother would have your head if she saw you talking with your mouth full.” 

You grinned wolfishly, giggling when Roger groaned. He was so easily vexed. “Mother isn’t here, is she?” 

“Babe…” Cho frowned. “You’re disgusting.” 

You shrugged, washing down your food with some tea. “Sue me.” 

“You know, out of Slytherin and Gryffindor, I would rather have you root for the latter.”

You muttered under your breath. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” 

“I’ll have you know that I-” 

“You’re being rather emotional, that’s all I’m-” 

“Alright.” Cho’s voice cut through the bickering. “Enough. Just eat your breakfast without arguing for five seconds.” 

“Yes, Mum.” You wiggled your eyebrows. 

Cho stifled a laugh behind her hand, but Roger, it seemed, would not rest until he knew the truth. “Why are you wearing it?” 

To be completely honest, it wasn’t as interesting a story as you were making it out to be. You hadn’t shagged with a Slytherin; in fact, you hadn’t shagged anyone at all. You’d simply been walking down the corridor when Mattheo Riddle had seen you shivering. 

He’d frowned when he’d seen you, a reaction you couldn’t help but laugh at. “Am I that appalling this early?” 

“Don’t fish for compliments, Davies. It doesn’t suit you.” He gestured to your neck, laughing ever so slightly. “Forget your scarf, have you?” 

“I was running late.” You stuck your tongue most unelegantly.

Perhaps not the best course of action. Anyone who was anyone knew of your crush on the boy, and sticking your tongue out like a child wasn’t a sure-fire way for him to fall in love with you. “It’s too late to go back now, I’ll ask Roger for his when I get to the hall.” 

“Here.” He opened his book bag, digging through until he found his own scarf. “I won’t need it today.” 

You were sure this was a dream. “Riddle-” 

“Are you so stubborn that you won’t accept a gift?” 

“No, it’s just-” 

“Davies.” He raised a brow, annoyed with your resistance. “Just take the scarf.” 

“Fine.” You whispered, snatching it from his outstretched palms before he could take it back. “Thank you.” 

He had no idea what he’d done to your stomach, how it had been twisting in knots ever since. How you swore he’d been watching you as you ate your breakfast. A hand waved annoyingly in front of your face. “Hello? Are you still with us?” 

You glared at your brother. “I happened to forget my scarf. Blaise saw that I was cold and offered me his, like a gentleman.”

“Oh.” He nodded slowly, like he was deliberating whether he was fine with it or not. “I can allow that.” You rolled your eyes, officially tired of your brother’s antics. “Don’t know why you were so adamant about not telling me.” 

“Well, when you have a drama queen for a brother, you can never be too careful.” 

“We should get going.” If Cho had been done with you both before, she looked entirely exhausted now. Roger quickly shoved the rest of his food down his throat, barely offering you a goodbye before stalking out of the hall. You were honestly shocked he hadn’t choked before your very eyes. 

Cho stared, squinting as if she was trying to read your mind. “That’s not really Zabini’s, is it?” 

“Does it matter?” You tried your best to look tired of the subject. 

“No.” She leaned forward, her voice hushed. “But if it’s Riddle’s, you have to tell me all about it later.” 

You grinned, nodding. “Of course.”

The game, while entertaining, had ended terribly for Slytherin, Gryffindor’s abilities far surpassing those of the team led by Malfoy. 

That had been their first mistake, electing Malfoy as their leader. 

The field had been flooded with red and gold almost instantaneously. Only one Slytherin remained, angrily watching from the locker room entrance. You approached him slowly, worried he would become skittish and dart away. “You played wonderfully.” 

“Yeah?” Mattheo evidently found your compliment humorous, laughing bitterly to himself. “I’ve never thought you were a liar-” 

“I never said the team played well. I said that you played well.” You crossed your arms. “Take the compliment.” 

“Thank you.” You nodded, standing diligently beside him, both of you watching as the crowd became increasingly disorderly. His voice was scratchy but warm, like a jumper your mother bought you years ago. Comforting, but prickly. “Are you quite warm?” 

“I am.” A small smile grew on your lips. “You know, it smells like you.” 

His eyebrows rose, a horrible smirk sneaking through his disappointed expression. “Have you memorized my ‘smell’ then?” 

You shoved his arm, shaking your head to distract from the way your heart had stopped. “Shut it.” 

“I don’t think I will. I want to hear more about how I smell.” 

You dared to look over, to actually take in his face, pale, a touch of pink on his cheeks. “Would you like it back, then?” 

“Threatening me now?” 

“Not exactly.” You giggled. “It’s just- you look ill.” 

“Ill?” He gasped. “That’s rather rude of you to say.” 

“You’re deathly pale.” You teased. “Almost as fair as the winter snow.” 

“I’m fine.” Not only was he devastatingly handsome, but he was as stubborn as a jackalope. “Really.” 

“Oh?” Your body seemed to have a mind of its own, moving before you could regret the action. Your palms, wrapped snug in your mittens, held his cheeks like he was something precious, something worth protecting. It had felt right in the moment; he had given you his scarf to stay warm, and now you were returning the favor. “You're freezing.” 

His pupils had dilated, you found as you stared into them. He must be part Veela, because there was no normal explanation for the effect he had on you. “Davies…” 

You hummed, your thumb gently caressing his cheek. “Yes?” 

“I’ve wanted to-”

“Davies!” You jumped back, Harry’s voice ripping you from his trance. He stood just a step away, hair a mess, his eyes glimmering, with a bright grin on his lips. “Thanks for coming!” 

“Of course, Haz.” You smiled, hugging him quickly. “Congratulations.” 

“It was a team effort.” His eyes quickly darted toward Mattheo. “Well played, Riddle.” 

As quickly as Mattheo’s walls had tumbled down, they’d built back up, only giving Harry a slight nod in response. “I’d like my scarf back now.” 

“Of course.” You carefully unraveled it, placing it gently in his arms as if it were precious. To you, it was. “I-” He hadn’t even said goodbye, just whipped around and stalked toward the castle. 

Harry nudged your arm, head tilted ever so slightly. “What’s wrong with him?” 

“Dunno.” You shrugged. The little voice in the back of your head let you believe perhaps Mattheo had been jealous, but the voice of reason had thought that was ridiculous. You watched as he refused to look back, his scarf smacking the grass every so often. “Sore loser, maybe.” 

It was horrifying how one moment you could be so completely in love, so overwhelmingly affectionate toward a person, and the next, you couldn’t bear to look at them.

It had happened so fast, you hadn’t even registered in your mind how your fifth year at Hogwarts had changed the trajectory of your entire life. Your heart had been broken before you’d realized, every time you looked at him, a reminder of the way you’d once felt about him. What had been an innocent crush turned into this painful reminder of your naivety. You wished that you’d never entertained his teasing, that you had stayed, at best, enemies. 

Most of all, you wished you hadn’t fallen in love.

Hogwarts Express, September 1998

“You’ve drifted off again.” Hermione didn’t even sound upset anymore. If anything, she sounded empathetic, pitiful. “Are you quite certain you’re ready? We could always wait - the Headmistress said that-” 

“Mione.” You cut her off. “I’m fine, really. Just thinking.” 

Ron hummed, not bothering to look up from his game of Wizard’s Chess as he read you to filth. “You’re a terrible liar. Riddle isn’t worth all of this, honestly. Don’t know what you see in him - he’s not the most enthusiastic to speak to.” 

You scoffed, throwing your long-forgotten novel at his head. “Excuse me, how do you even know I’m thinking about that- that git?” 

“You have that horrible look on your face,” Harry murmured. “The one you have whenever you think of him.” 

“It’s concerning that you know my ‘looks’ that well.” 

He shrugged, leaning back against his seat. “You spend a year on the run with someone, you begin to know them.” 

“Yeah, well…” You stuck your tongue out. “I’m not thinking of him. So there.” 

“Whatever you say, love.” He hadn’t stuck on the subject very long, determined to beat Ron at Wizard’s Chess at least once. 

“But now that we’re on the subject-” The trio collectively groaned. “Do you think he’ll come back?” 

“I highly doubt it.” You frowned at Hermione’s words. “He’d be quite brave to show his face in Hogwarts again.”

“Well, there you have it,” Ron smirked. He’d seen how disappointed you were by her words. It was nice to have a friend who knew you so well. “Hermione says so, so it must be true.” 

“It’s kind of odd being back here, isn’t it?” 

You nodded, eyes lazily scanning the hall. The sight that had once brought you joy now brought flashes of horror, memories you tried to push to the very depths of your mind. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was almost an out-of-body experience to be back in the hall you’d just watched dozens of your peers die in. To eat at the tables that had been used as makeshift beds for the injured, or worse, places of rest for the dead. 

You should’ve taken Kingsley’s offer; you’d be halfway to becoming an Auror by now.

Harry, much like you, seemed to be entirely uneasy. His eyes looked glassy, much too sad for such a man his age. Too guilty. He’d confided in you how he felt that all their deaths had been on him, and they always would be. How, if he had just surrendered earlier, maybe Fred would be alive, maybe Teddy would still have parents. 

You reached down, holding his hand tightly in yours. “It’ll be alrig-” 

If someone asked you to describe Mattheo Riddle in one word, without any hesitation at all, you would say dramatic. Perhaps you knew him better than you thought, because in the next moment, as if sensing that you’d subconsciously missed him, the Great Hall burst open, and there, as proud as ever, he stood, draped in his Slytherin robes. The hall burst into a quiet chaos, most of your peers speaking in hushed whispers, shocked he had had the gall to return. 

“You’re staring,” Harry whispered. “And you're clenching my hand so tightly I think it might fall off.” 

“Sorry.” You gasped, letting go of the boy. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“Don’t worry about it, love.” 

You hated it, the way Mattheo still commanded your attention. He always had, since you were first years, but now, you felt entirely ashamed about it. When you used to look at him, your stomach would erupt into butterflies, and your head would become dizzy. 

Now, you became nauseous, light-headed, but in an entirely uncomfortable way, like you would faint at any moment. 

Hogwarts, June 1996

“Davies!” You ignored him, whipping around the corner, leaving a trail of fury in your wake. Your peers, nosy gits, the lot of them, whispered as they watched Riddle chase after you. “Davies, wait up!” 

“Bugger off, Riddle.” You hissed. “I don’t particularly want to talk to you.” 

“Oh?” You hated the way he made your insides turn to mush, even now when you wanted to punch his perfect nose. He walked a step behind you, allowing you the illusion that you could outpace him. “You’re talking to me now, aren’t you?” 

“I swear to Rowena-” You whispered. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

“What’s this all about?” He sounded as if he were frowning. Good. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks now.” 

“I don’t owe you an explanation, Riddle.” 

“You’re right.” Before you could even find the time to be surprised, he continued. “But I’d like one all the same.” 

“You’d like one?” You stopped, your wand clenched tightly in your fist, eyes crazed as you whipped around. “Well, since you’d like one, let me explain, Your Highness.” 

His eye twitched ever so slightly at the nickname, and a little drop of guilt crept into your mind. ‘Your Highness’ was the nickname most Gryffindors used to tease him about his father, whom he had gone most of his life without knowing. That nickname, while horribly rude, had not hurt him an eighth of the amount he had hurt you. “Davies-” 

“You called me a pompous, arrogant brat, who would most likely never amount to anything but living in my brother’s shadow.” His face paled, and you found satisfaction in knowing that he was embarrassed. “Then, when Malfoy, Malfoy of all people, told you to stop, you kept going, saying that you couldn’t believe that you ever thought I was attra-” Your eyes welled, voice catching. “You couldn’t ever believe you thought I was attractive.” 

“Davies, please-” 

“I don’t want to see you ever again.” 

“Love-” 

“Don’t.” You raised your wand ever so slightly, finding satisfaction when you saw the smallest flash of fear in his eyes. “If you ever so much as speak about me, Rowena, if you even think of me, I will find you and I will make you wish you had never opened your pompous, arrogant, evil mouth again.” 

His mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to argue. It was horrible, the way hope seemed to burst through you. The worst thing about it all was that if he had just apologized then and there, you would have forgiven him, no questions asked. But then, in true Mattheo Riddle fashion, he nodded, crossing his arms. “Fine.”

Hogwarts, October 1998

Rumors were bound to spread; the whole of Hogwarts was desperate for any sort of gossip. You often wondered if anyone ever learned anything, because all you heard your fellow students talk of was who was shagging whom, and who had broken yet another of Snape’s cauldrons. (Well, now it was Slughorn, but the sentiment remained the same.) 

Most, if not all, of the rumors could be traced back to his father. The most popular had been that he had been Voldemort’s executioner during the war, personally seeing to the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Muggles and magical beings alike. 

The worst of them, the one that had made you feel truly horrible for him, was that Mattheo was not himself at all, that Voldemort’s soul, in the last second, had possessed him, as if he were nothing more than a host body. 

Some poor first year, clueless to your connection to the boy and simply trying to participate in the Hogwarts rumor mill, found himself on the receiving end of a passionate rant about misinformation, the entire common room watching in moderate horror as you went on and on about how it’s not fair that we judge him by his parents. 

Classes seemed to flash by; most of the information you already knew. Reason number two thousand, you should have joined the Aurors when you had the chance. 

Most of your days were spent in the library, simply staring out the window, thinking. Thinking about how the only reason (not that you’d admit this to Hermione) that you’d come back was to see him, to know that he’d survived, that his father and his men hadn’t finished him off. School itself was behind you; it had been since you left with the trio the summer before your seventh year. First Ravenclaw in history to drop out, or so Roger had said. 

“Davies.” 

Of course, he had finally gathered up the courage to talk to you today of all days. You stood, clutching your books to your chest as if they were some sort of shield. “Riddle.” 

He looked entirely uncomfortable, swaying back and forth to distract from the feeling. Served him right, you thought to yourself. “You look well.” 

You couldn’t help but smile, trying to show that there was no ill will. At least, not as much as there had been last time you’d talked. “Thank you.”

“I’ve been a coward.” He practically blurted it out, eyes wide as if he was shocked by his own actions.

“Oh?” You stepped around him, finding pleasure in the fact that he instantly followed after you. “Do tell.” 

“You must know that I’ve wanted to talk to you for years.” Your heart clenched, the desperation in his voice odd, something you had yet to hear from the man. He was stoic by nature, scared to let anyone in. 

“What stopped you then?” 

“I was scared.” 

The second time today, he had shocked you. Mattheo Riddle, one of the best duelers you’d ever seen, probably one of the most powerful wizards of your time, was scared of you. “You’ve got to be joking. If anyone should be scared, it should be me of you.” You leaned closer, as if you were telling him your darkest secret. “You are, after all, the son of Lord Voldemort.” 

He laughed. “Have they gotten to you then? The rumor mills?” 

“They’ve tried. Luckily for you, I don’t fall for childish gossip quite so easily.” 

“Luckily for me, indeed.” He smiled, the first true smile you’d seen on him in years. “I wanted to apologize for what I did.” 

“Mattheo-” 

“Just…” He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to a stop. The corridor was busy, and students pushed past you, staring while they whispered much too loudly. You could imagine the headline now, Ravenclaw’s Pride and Joy pulled to the Dark Side. “Let me apologize.” 

“You really don’t need to-” 

“I do.” He insisted. “I was harsh and unfeeling. It was entirely wrong of me, what I said.” 

“I’ve moved on.” You whispered, wrist burning from his touch. “I haven’t thought about it in years.” Liar. 

“Well, I have. It’s stayed with me like a disease. The guilt has been eating at me for years, and I cannot stand it any longer.”

He was truly oblivious to the effect that he had on you, of how deeply you still felt for him. And he never would. “There’s no need to feel guilty any longer, I swear. We were young, and you- I forgave you eons ago. I know whatever caused you to-” Your eyes watered. Merlin, maybe you hadn’t truly forgotten. “You were going through so much, and I understand-”

“That is no excuse.” He stepped closer, his breath moving the fallen strand from your braid ever so slightly. “You are making it rather difficult to apologize, Davies.” 

“You really don’t need to.” 

“Regardless, I am sorry.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. “So deeply sorry.” 

“I know.” You smiled. “Can you promise me something?” 

“Anything.” Your heart clenched at his quick response. “I’ll do anything.” 

You tried to sound as serious as you could, but his eyes trained on you made you loopy, grinning like the girl he’d known only three years ago. “No more moping, and no more feeling guilty.” 

He nodded, holding his right hand to his heart. “As you wish, love.” 

Hogwarts, April 1996

“You look on edge.”

You fought the urge to scowl. “What do you want, Riddle?” 

“I-” The boy’s mischievous smirk faltered. “Is it so bad that I wanted to see you?” 

“Yes, it is.” Your eyes darted toward the Room of Requirement, a sigh of relief escaping as the door melted back into the brick wall. It was ingenious, one of Hogwarts' many wonders. “I have plans.” 

“Plans?” His eyebrow rose ever so slightly. “How vague.” 

“They’re vague because they don’t concern you.” Your patience was growing thin.

“Oh?” He stepped closer, his cologne rendering you utterly defenseless. “Are they urgent?” 

Malfoy’s horrifyingly yellow hair rounded the corner, eyes fixed on the wall that led to the entirety of the DA. Was that- your heart clenched. Shoved around in Filch’s grimy hands was a sobbing Cho Chang. “I really need to be going-” 

“Let me accompany you.” 

He sounded a little too eager. Had Umbridge sent him to distract you from helping your friends? You raised an eyebrow, curious to know the truth. “Why are you so interested in me all of a sudden?” 

“I’ve always been interested in you.” He spoke so casually that you almost missed the meaning behind his words. “You’re an interesting woman.” 

“Sure.” You laughed. “About as interesting as a teaspoon.” 

God, his eyes bore into your soul. You were sure he could read your thoughts at that very moment, the way his gaze searched yours. “Depends on the teaspoon.” 

Hogwarts, October 1998

“I’ve heard something.” 

“Oh?” You raised a brow, not bothering to look up from your paper. “Do tell.” 

“You and Riddle were seen talking in the corridor.” 

You hummed, flipping the page. “Never took you for a gossip.” 

“Well?” He leaned forward. “What happened then?” 

“Ronald.” You folded the paper gently. “Must you pry into my affairs?” 

“I’m not the one who had a very public conversation in the busiest corridor at school, now am I?” He smirked. “Out with it.” 

“If you must know-” He nodded, hanging on to your every word. “He apologized.” 

“Did he?” Rowena, he was way too smug. “How mature of him.” 

“Quite. Now can I eat my breakfast, or will the interrogation continue?” 

“Interrogation?” Hermione plopped down beside you. “What interrogation?” 

Harry nodded, filling his plate. “I’m curious.” 

“Stay curious.” You glared. “You lot are a bunch of nosy-” 

“No need to be so hostile.” Ron teased. “Friends tell each other things, Davies.” 

“I’m not telling, so might as well-” Ron had this horrible look in his eye, and you groaned. “Please don’t-” 

“Riddle apologized to her.” You kicked his shin under the table, but he kept going. “Approached her in the hall. Apparently-” You rolled your eyes. “It was rather intimate.” 

“Intimate?” Hermione laughed. “They were in the hall, Ron.” 

He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m simply relaying what I’ve heard.” 

“What was he apologizing for in the first place?” Harry questioned.

“Nothing.” You looked over his shoulder, stomach flipping to find that Mattheo was already staring at you. “Nothing at all. Now if you’ll excuse me-”

Ron whined. “Don’t run away. I was just teasing.” 

“Not everything is about you, Ronald.” You stuck your tongue out. “Besides, I have plans.” 

“Plans?” Harry smirked. “Does it have anything to do with a certain Slytherin?” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You muttered. “See you in class, Mione.” 

“I’ll be right behind you.” The Gryffindor waited until you’d left the hall to reprimand the boys in front of her. “Really, you two are the worst of them all.” 

“That’s rather dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“No, I don’t.” She watched as Mattheo raced after you, smiling to herself. “Leave the girl be.” 

The Battle of Hogwarts, May 2nd, 1998

“One line!” The Ravenclaw first years stayed close as you ushered them down the stairs, gasping in fear as the castle they loved crumbled to ash. “It’s alright, everyone. Only a little longer-” 

“Where do you think you’re off to, missy?” Amycus Carrow, the revolting git, stood in front of you, grinding his teeth. “The Dark Lord wants to-” 

“The Dark Lord can go drown himself in the Black Lake for all I care.” One of the students behind you whined, another started to cry. “Look away, children.” 

Flitwick, while rather meticulous, was a fantastic teacher. He’d seen something in you, believed in you in a way that most hadn’t. You’d excelled in his class from the first day you’d arrived, able to perform most advanced spells by age twelve. So when he’d asked you to hang back that random Tuesday, offering to give you lessons in wandless magic, you’d immediately accepted. At first, you hadn’t seen the need, but now, tasked with the protection of fifteen eleven year olds, you understood. “Don’t make me hurt you.” Protego Totalum. Protego Totalum. 

“I doubt you could,” Carrow smirked, raising his wand. “Cruc-” 

Thankfully, you had beaten him to the draw. “Impedimenta!”

Carrow fell with a loud thump, the children behind you cheering, jumping erratically with joy. You grinned, allowing yourself to take a breath before remembering that you were currently in the middle of a very active battlefield. “Alright, we’ve got to keep-” 

A great loud yell echoed through the staircase, shocking all of you. “You- you wrench! You disgrace!” Behind you stood Alecto Carrow, Amycus’s twin sister, and, in your opinion, a conniving bitch. “Ava-” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that your shield would hold. Hoping that the first years would survive, and that your momentary lapse in judgement hadn’t just cost the lives of fifteen witches and wizards. 

But the spell never came. Your eyes peeled open, cheeks growing hot when you saw Mattheo Riddle, in all of his glory, standing over a (you assumed) dead Alecto Carrow. “Mattheo?” 

“Davies.” He grinned as he raced toward you, scanning you for injuries. “Are you quite alright?” 

“You-” Your eyes welled, your adrenaline wearing off as you faced reality. If it hadn’t been for him, you would have died, most likely scaring the children behind you. “You saved us.” 

“Are you alright?” His hands hurriedly searched your face, cheeks, and even your hairline for cuts. “I thought-” 

“Thank you.” Melinda Turner, all four feet and two inches of her, squeaked. “Thank you so very much.” 

Mattheo smiled, stepping back to wave at the first years. You found yourself almost following after his touch, wishing that you actually had a wound so he could fuss over you. “Don’t mention it.”

“He’s very brave, isn’t he?” Another whispered, causing giggles to erupt throughout your crowd. “And handsome.” 

Melinda turned to you, her head tilted. “Is this your friend?” 

You nodded without thinking, Mattheo grinning at the action. “He is, yes.” 

“Is he your boyfriend?” Another, you couldn’t figure out who, blurted. 

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s enough out of you lot.”

Mattheo nodded. “You listen to Davies, alright? She’s very brave, much more than I am.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his compliment. The first years nodded, staring up at him as if he were a god. He grabbed you hand, squeezing it quickly. “Stay safe.”

“I will.” You whispered, watching for just a moment as he raced away. 

That had been the moment you'd realized your crush had never gone away, and never would.

Ministry of Magic, 2000

Robards had just dropped off the tenth box of files this morning, asking that they be sorted alphabetically and chronologically, when an owl, one you’d never seen and certainly not the Ministry’s, landed on your desk. A note was clenched in it’s beak, dropping it in front of you.

“Thank you.” You reached out, petting it gently, smiling when it leaned into your touch. “Who sent-” As quickly as the owl had arrived, it had left, darting down the hall. 

You stared suspiciously at the note, wary of touching it. Cursed items were a common occurrence in the Auror’s office, and you didn’t want to take your chances. Still, you had a feeling this was not one of those sorts of notes. You opened the paper, grinning at it’s contents. 

You knew that handwriting. 

Meet me by the fountain in five minutes. 

You grabbed your purse, pulling out your mirror as you fussed over your hair. Harry watched with amusement, shaking his head. “You’re too far gone.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Really?” He raised a brow. “So you’re not meeting Riddle?” 

“Shut it.” You glared. “Don’t tell Robards where I’ve gone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He grinned, shouting at your back as you ran away. “Have fun!” 

You raced out of the elevator, smiling wide when you saw his familiar head of hair. “Riddle.” 

He turned toward your voice, arms crossed, eyes mischievous as ever. “Davies.” 

“To what do I owe the honor of your presence?” 

“I have something to tell you.” Oh Merlin, not now, not here of all places. “Something I should have said a long time ago.” 

“Don’t.” You were sure you were going to be sick. Mattheo Riddle was about to reject you in your place of work. Now, everytime you looked at the fountain, you would be reminded of the day he broke your heart for the second time. “Please don’t.” 

“I have to, or I never will.” He took a deep breath. “You’re a beautiful woman, Davies.” 

That had not been what you were expecting. You smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you?” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I have to admit, that was not-” 

“And I’ve fallen in love with you.” 

Holy- your breath caught in your throat. “Come again?” 

“I’m in love with you.” 

“Is this a joke?” You had to be dreaming. “You? In love with me?” 

He nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That is what I said.” 

“Don’t be cruel.” Your eyes welled with tears. “I know you have a twisted sense of humor, but this is a new-”

“I’m not joking, love. I’ve-” He frowned. “Do you really believe I would do that?” 

“Mattheo, you cannot possibly be in love with me.” This was a dream; it had to be a dream. Scratch that, this was no dream. This was your worst nightmare come to life. “There is no possible-” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel.” He whispered. “You might not feel the same, but I couldn’t go another day without telling you. It was maddening, being around you and not being able to- to tell you.” He took you in, as if he was trying to memorize the moment. “You left. On the night I was going to tell you, you left.” 

A few weeks ago, you’d gotten dinner, and after, he’d asked if you wanted to come to his flat for a glass of wine. You’d said yes, of course, but upon arrival, became so nervous that you lied and literally ran away while he yelled after you. “I did.” 

“May I ask why?” 

“I-” You gulped. “I had a business meeting.” 

“At half past ten?” He was now smirking. 

“Yes?” Your lie was a horrible one, easily seen through. “It was sudden-” 

“I’m aware.” He took a step forward, practically towering over you. “You’ve done this four times now.” 

“Done what exactly?” You looked up, heart thumping against your ribs, rattling your bones. “I’m lost-” 

“Funny. So am I. Everytime I try to ask you back to my flat, something comes up.” 

“An Auror’s work is never done.” 

“Are you avoiding me, Davies?” 

“Avoiding you?” You laughed. “I would never-”

“We’ve gone out four times now, and every time I try to make a move-” He huffed. “You run off. It’s utterly maddening.” 

“Gone out?” This couldn’t be real. “Make a move? What do you mean by that?” 

“Dates, Davies. Keep up, I thought Ravenclaw was the smart house.”

“That’s actually a common misconception and-” You shook your head, focusing on the conversation at hand. “What the bloody hell do you mean by ‘dates'? We’ve just-” Had he been taking you to dinner with the intention of- Rowena, you felt like you were going to faint. “Do you mean-” 

“Have you honestly thought I asked you to dinner four times as friends?” 

“Well…” Merlin, you felt like a right idiot. “Yes.” 

He laughed so loudly the passing witches and wizards jumped, staring at the obnoxious man. “Davies-” He gasped between words, giggling like he was back in school. “You actually believed I was bringing you flowers, taking you to dinner, and escorting you home as-”

“If you’re going to tease me-” You hissed. “Then I’ll be leaving.” 

“Ah ah ah.” He grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could make your escape. “Not so fast.” 

“Mattheo-” You whined. “This isn’t-” 

“I’m going to say one last thing, and then we can never speak of this again.” His eyes were dark, darting to your lips every so often. “We can pretend this never happened.” 

“Fine.” Not fine. You were very much not fine. 

“You don’t need to love me back, but you must know-” 

“Stop.” You smacked your hand over his mouth. “One second.” 

He nodded, voice muffled from behind your hand. “Alright.” 

“This is mortifying, what I’m about to tell you, so don’t make fun.” He nodded once more. “I’ve- I’ve loved you for so long that it’s embarrassing, for so long that everytime I talk about you my friends groan. I loved you even when I knew you didn’t love me, when you insulted me and I threatened you. You have been the only man I’ve ever even thought of, and-” You huffed. “All this to say, I love you too.” 

He peeled your hand away from his mouth, wrapping it around your waist. You were flush against him as he leaned down, grinning wildly. “I’m going to kiss you now.” 

“Alright, but I-” 

“Shh.” He placed a finger over your lips. “Can’t very well kiss you while you’re talking, can I?” 

“I mean-” He darted down, his lips colliding with yours. Your eyes practically rolled back, hands reaching up to grab his collar, trying to pull him even closer. He groaned, pinching your waist ever so slightly, grinning when you squeaked. “You-” 

“What a Chatterbox you are.” He spoke as he kissed down your neck. “That will-” 

“I’m at work!” Your eyes fluttered shut, relishing in the way he held you. “You cannot just-” 

“Miss Davies?” You jumped, pushing the man away from you as you straightened your clothes. 

“Sir.” You were most definitely fired. “I’m so sorry-” 

He raised his hand, rendering you speechless. “Who is this young man?” 

Mattheo grinned, extending his hand. “Mattheo Riddle, sir.” 

“Ah.” Robards shook his hand, looking curiously between the two of you. “Are you quite done?” 

You were sure you were dying of embarassment. “Of course, sir.” 

“Well…” Mattheo whispered, and your eyes widened, elbowing him in the ribs. He gasped, clutching his side. “Salazar, woman!” 

“I’ll see you back in the office.” Robards chuckled.

“I’ll be right behind you!” You whipped around, glaring at the man still reeling from your attack. “You are incorrigible.” 

“And you are horribly violent.” 

“Yes, well…” You frowned, taking a step closer. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” He shooed you away. “Go on then. I’ll see you later.” 

“Later?” 

He nodded. “I believe it's time for a proper date. ” 

“Ah.” You smiled, kissing his cheek quickly. “Bye, then.” 

He’d waited until you were almost back to the elevator to yell across the concourse. “You missed.” 

Heat rose to your cheeks as you whipped around, glaring at the boy. “You’re relentless!” 

He shrugged, grinning when you raced toward him, jumping up and kissing him once more. “Merlin!” His arms found their way back to your waist, squeezing your sides like the menace that he was. “Attacking me with no warning, might I add-” 

“You’re impossible to kiss when you’re talking.” You murmured against his lips. “Do you know that?”

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You pulled the cart harder, forcing your arms to stay strong. The heat invaded your entire body, as if a flame of fire constantly pursued you. You ran your hand over your forehead to wipe away the sweat.

A few more houses, hold on.

You clenched your teeth and kept walking. The only thing that brought you comfort was the view: September had arrived, and with it the beginning of autumn. The leaves on the trees turned yellow and some were already falling to the ground, brown. The sky was overcast and didn't let the sun peek out anywhere, typical of London.

A few more blocks down, you finally arrived at your destination: "Malfoy Manor". You admired the façade before you rang the doorbell.A path flanked by neatly trimmed hedges on the left and short, wild shrubs on the right led to a wide path, interrupted by a pair of impressive wrought-iron gates that marked the boundaries of the mansion's grounds.

You softly pressed the small white bell hanging from the fence. It emitted a high-pitched ring.

—Yes? —exclaimed a male voice that you immediately recognized. It sounded irritated.

—Mail —you replied, more tired than you intended to be.

Nobody answered again, but the bars parted, allowing you to pass.You moved slowly; dragging the metal cart across the gravel floor took twice as long.

If there were only a few houses left to be distributed, how could it weigh so much?

Finally, you reached the entrance. A friendly-looking house elf opened the door and let you pass into the foyer right away. The scent of expensive air freshener, mint, and oak filled your nostrils.

—Leave it here— Draco said without looking at you, walking away with a cup in his hand. —Ad be careful with it, it costs more than a month of your salary.

—You're very demanding, Malfoy— I replied in a teasing tone.

Draco stopped. He turned around with his eyes open and a mocking smile.

—Wow, wow... working as a mail woman. I didn't expect that. I didn't even realize it was you.

—You're not exactly the brightest, Malfoy— you said with a smile as you pulled the enormous box with his name off the hellish device.

—How's that son of a bitch Gale? He doesn't respond to any of our letters, he asked, leaning against the wall.

He was wearing a dark green wool sweater, black suit pants, and matching loafers. His hair, almost as white as his skin, was perfectly groomed. That made you look at your own clothes and feel a bit embarrassed.You probably didn't look very attractive then.

—He's grounded. But if you really want to talk to your boyfriend, I'll take you with me— I replied mockingly.

—Fuck off.

You both laughed. You left the package on the floor and sighed in relief.

—Nice uniform.

—I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Draco.

—Okay, okay. Come on, have a drink, you must be tired.

You weren't going to refuse. After dealing with some pretty nasty wizards and Muggles all morning, you deserved a little reward. Besides, if you didn't rest a bit, you'd probably get cramps or something.

You followed him through the halls of the mansion. As you entered the house, a chill ran down your spine due to the change in temperature.

Finally, you arrived at the living room. There you could identify Lucius, in his classic black tunic, sitting in a brown leather armchair across from another who was facing away from you. Lucius seemed tense, although he always was.His gaze turned toward you.

—Miss Prewett, said he, unusually friendly, standing up from his seat. It's a pleasure to see you again.

He came over and gave you a gentle handshake, but a look of disgust escaped him when the smell of sweat from your clothes reached him. Your cheeks flushed.

—Similarly, Mr. Malfoy— you replied timidly. That man intimidated you greatly.

Draco sat near the fireplace.

—Come on, sit down— Lucius exclaimed, guiding you to the chair that had previously been occupied. —I present to you this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Mr. Tom Riddle.

That was exactly the moment you knew it.

Eyes like emeralds that could freeze with a single glance. Jet-black hair perfectly styled. Skin as pale as snow. Long legs, veiny arms. A black vest over a rolled-up white shirt.

Everything about him screamed danger from the start.

But you ignored every sign because of that fleeting fantasy. If only you had listened...

Your stomach tightened as he looked at you with his dull, almost dead eyes. You shuddered in the chair.

—A pleasure, Miss Prewett, he said with a serious expression.

You opened your mouth, but the words got stuck in your throat.

Don't be ridiculous. Speak up.

Speak, speak, speak.

—Similarly.

Professor Riddle took your hand and brought it to his lips without breaking eye contact. His gaze burned on you.

Then reality hit like a bucket of cold water.

Your mind went back to the horrible navy blue and yellow uniform you were wearing, the smell of sweat and gasoline after having to stop to refuel. Not to mention your hair, which was tied up in two braids—if they could even be called braids anymore.

—Do you work as a post woman? —he asked in a monotone tone.

—E… well —you said nervously—. Not really. It's just a punishment. For a day.

—Punishment?

—Yes.

Your cheeks were now burning with embarrassment. That seemed to amuse him.

—Wow. I can't imagine she did anything bad enough to deserve punishment— he commented with a slight smile.

Draco looked at you with a furrowed brow.

—What year are you in, Miss Prewett? —asked Professor Riddle.

—Sixth year, sir.

—One less than you, right, Malfoy?

—Yes, sir— the blond man replied, looking bored, staring at his cup as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

—I'm sorry to interrupt... oh, dear, hello.

Narcissa Malfoy appeared at the door of the room and quickly assessed the scene. She wore a beautiful charcoal black dress and her usual bun with white and black streaks. You stood up to greet her. She opened her arms and wrapped you in a sweet hug.

Cissy was like a second mother to you.

—I came to tell you that dinner is ready. Oh my, stay for dinner.

—I'd love to, Cissy, but I still have packages to deliver— you apologized, feeling terrible for having to turn down the offer.

—That's easy to fix— Professor Riddle said, standing up.

He went to the foyer and everyone followed him. There was the squeaky cart with the remaining mail. He took out his wand and, with a gentle motion, the cart disappeared.

—Done— he said with an air of sufficiency.

—I'll tell Dobby to set the table for one more— Narcissa announced as she headed to the dining room.

The dinner was delicious, as you'd expect from the Malfoy cooks. Your family was wealthy, like all the families of the Sacred 28, but you never had a chef because your mother liked to cook. Still, objectively, it didn't compare to the cuisine of the most sought-after chefs in the magical world.

They served a delicious meat and vegetable pie first, and mashed peas. You didn't like it, but you ate it out of courtesy.

Then Professor Riddle and Mr. Malfoy continued discussing important matters: the Ministry of Magic and the recent crisis over the loss of werewolf records.

Draco would sit across from you at dinner and make faces that would force you to smile and laugh silently.

Professor Riddle would occasionally look at Draco with disapproval, then at Lucius with boredom while speaking, and finally at you in a way that you couldn't decipher.

—They should raid them. Lock them all up!— Lucius said with disdain.

—I don't think they're that bad— you said.

Silence fell over the table.

—Excuse me?— Lucius asked, confused.

—In the magical world, less than 20% are werewolves, at least of those registered.Within that 20%, only 7.3% have committed some type of crime, including minor offenses. Mano people commit crimes because their circumstances force them to do so, for survival and because of a society that systematically oppresses them. If they were given more rights, were not socially isolated, and their transformations were monitored to ensure they were safe for everyone, the percentage would be reduced by more than half...

The information flowed from your mouth almost automatically.

Draco watched you open-mouthed. Cissy tried to hold back her laughter as she looked at her husband's indignant face. And Professor Riddle kept his green eyes fixed on you, with a small smile.

—...so, comparing all the data, wizards commit more crimes than werewolves. And that's why we shouldn't imprison or murder them all, you concluded.

Rowena Ravenclaw would be proud.

The dark oak chair creaked under your weight.

—Ah, well— Mr. Riddle finally said. —It's been impressive, hasn't it, Lucius?

Lucius didn't open his mouth again. He just nodded slightly.

—Well, a splendid dinner, Mrs. Malfoy— the green-eyed man added as he stood up. —But, if you'll allow me, I must leave. I'm afraid I still have a lot to prepare for the start of the school year at Hogwarts.

—Could you accompain Mr. Riddle to the door?— Lucius said with that cold demanding tone.

You could feel him looking at you, expectant. And you finally nodded with a knot in the stomach.

He politely said goodbye to the Malfoys, and together you went to the foyer.

—I must say that it was spectacular how you handled the situation in the dining hall, Miss Prewett— he said as he put on his long black coat and grabbed an umbrella.

—Thank you, sir— you tried to sound calm, but you couldn't.

—I hope to see you soon. Maybe under better circumstances.

His low voice pierced your ears, and you wished that moment would last longer.

—Likewise.

You extended your hand, expecting a handshake, but he took it again and gently kissed the back of your hand. The door opened and he stepped outside.

The sky was black, with no stars. The night had arrived and it was pouring rain. He walked away down the gravel path.

So when Pansy Parkinson found you lounging in the Great Hall, writing some lyrics on parchment, headphones glowing purple and silver, it wasn’t a request — it was a decree.

"You’ll be DJing Draco’s birthday party," She said breezily, dropping onto the Ravenclaw bench at lunch like she owned it. She was wearing serpent-green eyeliner and a look that dared you to argue.

You blinked, taking off your headphones. “I’m sorry—was that a question?”

“No, darling,” she said sweetly. “It’s an order. Room of Requirement. Ten PM. We’ve already prepped the fog spells.”

You sighed dramatically. “And if I say no?”

She gave you a dangerous smile. “Then I’ll cry. And Draco will pout. And do you really want to be the girl who ruined Malfoy’s birthday?”

You stared at her.

Then smirked. “Fine. But I’m bringing strobe charms. And no one’s allowed to touch my booth unless they want to be hexed into the Stone Age.”

Pansy grinned. “Knew you’d see reason.”

The Room of Requirement had outdone itself. It looked like a club ripped out of a Milan fashion show—black marble floors, glowing green chandeliers, floating drink trays, velvet couches in dramatic corners. Enchanted fog swirled over everything. And at the center, your DJ platform rose like a throne.

You stood behind your setup—crop top glittering, hair styled for maximum bounce, eyes rimmed in silver glam. With one flick of your wand, your decks lit up. The air shimmered with potential.

You grabbed the mic. “Let’s get loud, Hogwarts!”

The beat dropped into Drake's “One Dance”—remixed with a thunderclap charm that shook the walls—and the crowd exploded.

Every house was there. Gryffindors jumping like maniacs. Ravenclaws with color-changing drinks. Hufflepuffs forming a line-dance of doom. And Slytherins? They were pretending they weren’t into it, but their shoulders betrayed them.

And him.

Draco Malfoy.

Leaning against a pillar with one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around a glass of firewhisky. White button-up slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His silver-blond hair a little tousled like he didn’t care—except you knew he definitely cared.

And he was watching you like you were a flame he couldn’t help but lean into.

You rolled your body to the beat. Slow. Teasing. Wicked. Your hips moved like you knew exactly what you were doing and truthfully, you did. The room pulsed with your energy, the floor shifting with heat and rhythm, but all of it blurred around the way Draco’s gaze tracked you.

He took a slow sip from his firewhisky, his lips barely touching the glass as his eyes darkened, devouring every movement you made. He was still, coiled like a serpent, watching you like a secret he wanted to unwrap slowly.

You smirked and switched the track into a mashup of The Weeknd's "Die For You" and SZA’s “Low.”

“HEY EAGLE!” someone shouted. “YOU’RE A WIZARDING ICON!”

“DJ!” another screamed. “PLEASE STEP ON ME!”

You blew a kiss at the crowd, spun in your booth, and let the music melt into a remix of "Kiss It Better" by Rhianna that soon transitioned to "Positions" by Ariana Grande—crowd control charms at max. Bodies moved like waves. Lights flickered in time. Sweat, magic, and adrenaline painted the air.

And every time you glanced at the birthday boy—he was still watching. Sipping. Like he wanted to devour the whole scene and you with it.

After your fourth set, sweat glistening on your forehead and your heart pounding from the energy pulsing through the room, you finally stepped down from the DJ booth, leaving on "Love Me Like You Do" by Ellie Goulding for the 'getting drunk' music.

Someone immediately pressed a glittering, frosted drink into your hand—its chill a welcome contrast to your flushed skin. A nearby Hufflepuff leaned in with a wide smile, whispering, “You’re literally the life of Hogwarts.”

You laughed, breathless and exhilarated, basking in the glow of the crowd’s adoration. The music still thrummed through the walls, but your mind was already drifting, seeking a quieter corner to catch your breath.

Turning sharply, you almost collided with him

You're the light, you're the night.

Draco Malfoy—who caught your elbow with a steady hand, his icy gaze locking with yours. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice low and calm amid the chaos.

You looked up at him, flashing a sly grin. “Enjoying the party, birthday boy?” you teased.

He gave a dry chuckle, the corner of his mouth twitching into something like a smile. “It’s tolerable.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh wow. That’s basically a love letter coming from you.”

Instead of letting go, he kept his hand lightly on your arm, anchoring you in the moment. “You’re unreal,” he said quietly, his tone thick with something more—admiration, maybe something like awe.

"You flirt with the music, tease the crowd, make even the portraits blush. And Merlin, I can't believe someone can do all that and still look at me like I’m the one worth noticing.

Your breath caught, your heart stuttering in your chest. You blinked up at him, the air between you electric and heavy.

“I don’t dance,” he admitted, his voice dropping softer, more vulnerable, “but every time you roll your hips like that, I forget how to breathe.”

You smiled, slow and deliberate, the kind of smile that promises trouble. “So breathe with me,” you dared him. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to your eyes, hesitation warring with desire in their depths.

The space between you shrank until you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, the faint pulse of his heartbeat in sync with your own. His fingers brushed your wrist, lingering just long enough to send sparks down your arm, as if testing his own restraint.

You leaned in just a fraction, your lips barely brushing the curve of his cheek as you whispered against his skin, “You’ve been staring all night, Draco. What are you waiting for?” His breath hitched, and you could see the flush rising in his cheeks, the pulse pounding at his throat like a frantic drum. Yet still, he held himself back, barely.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, low and rough with barely contained longing. “If I kiss you right now, I won’t stop.”

You tilted your head, a wicked smile curling your lips. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

The tension coiled tighter, a delicious electric ache between you. The music continued to hum in the background, but all you could hear was the relentless pounding of your heart in your ears.

Then, as if the universe were waiting for the perfect moment, your music rig pulsed with life, signaling the chorus.

So love me like you do, la-la love me like you do.

Draco let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? we're about to kiss with this song?” you didn’t flinch.

“Fitting, isn’t it?” you tease. His gaze locked on your lips, eyes dark and burning with intent.

And then—finally—he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate—like he’d been counting the seconds since the first beat dropped, biding his time, waiting for a moment when the rest of the world would fall away.

His lips met yours with a kind of quiet certainty, soft but hungry beneath it, like he needed to be sure this was real. His hand slid up to your jaw, fingers curling just under your ear, tilting your face as if he wanted to memorize the angle. The warmth of his palm sent a shiver down your spine, grounding you even as your knees threatened to give out.

You gasped softly against his mouth, and he took that as invitation, deepening the kiss with a slow-burning hunger that made your head spin. Your hands found the front of his shirt, bunching the fabric between your fingers, desperate to anchor yourself to something—anything—as the world blurred into fog and light and heat.

His other arm circled your waist, tugging you flush against him. There was no more space between you, no more tension—only release. His mouth moved against yours like he knew exactly how you liked to be kissed—like he’d imagined this a thousand times and was now trying to make up for every second he hadn’t done it sooner.

He tasted like firewhisky and trouble. Sweet and sharp and utterly addictive. The kind of kiss that felt like a secret and a promise all at once. Somewhere in the room, music pulsed and people shouted, but none of it touched you. Not here. Not inside this space of want and heat.

You broke apart just enough to breathe—your foreheads pressed together, your lips still brushing, your pulse hammering wildly beneath his thumb.

And he whispered, low and wrecked, “Told you. I don’t stop.”

You grinned, breathless. “Good.”

Then, he kissed you again.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

“THE DJ’S SNOGGING MALFOY!”

From somewhere in the throng, Pansy raised a glass high and shouted triumphantly, “FINALLY.”

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Deep in your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder what a certain slytherin was getting up to right about now. Embarrassed, you shoved the thought away just as it settled in. But you couldn’t forget the way he’d been so close to you under that tree last rest day.

When he had snuck off and pulled you away from the detention that the two of you had unfairly been given. You’d learned that the same day. But even still…

It hadn’t been all that long ago, but it had been a good amount of importance, clearly, since you had imagined it over and over again, typically in the evening, right before you closed your eyes and drifted off. As well as in the morning, before the birds belted their songs and prepared to leave the nest to catch breakfast.

Riddle's golden eyes, like brown lava appeared every time. His whole aesthetic was so cinematic, like he was born to be in front of a camera. He was handsome, but so what? There were plenty of Hogwarts boys that were handsome. None quite like him though.

You wanted to whine every time you unconsciously whispered that to yourself. It irked you. Why did it have to be him? Why him? Of everyone, even Cormac might have been–okay no, he wouldn’t, but still.

It messed with your mind, the logical part of you saying it didn’t matter what your heart felt, he was dangerous, even if you didn’t want to blame him for his fathers deeds. The apple never falls too far from the tree, just take a look at you and your father.

Unfortunately, his tree was rotten, therefore his apple would also be–Alright what the hell were you even saying now?

“It’s almost time,” one of your friends murmured. While you weren’t the last to leave the darkened, fire-lit heavy common room, you almost were, and Filch would no doubt be doing house sweeps, trying to get anyone he could in trouble. You shuddered at the thought of being the target of his mangy gaze again.

But then your heart leapt at the prospect of being in close proximity to him, which should have been a red flag, and yet…

“Have a goodnight,” you waved toward your friends, heading further down the hall.

“Goodnight,” they replied back.

You should’ve been tired, but when you settled your books, pens and parchment on your desk and turned to look out the window, showcasing the quidditch field, you felt the sense of exhaustion leave you.

Maybe you could take a walk around the dorms, maybe that would tire you out enough. But your mind was racing, daydreams had become a rather common occurrence with you. And they typically consisted of…him…unfortunatley.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you wrapped yourself in a throw blanket. You slid on a pair of slippers and swiftly made your escape.

The longer you roamed the dorms–still warm, from the fire that had been put out right before the last of the students had left–the more restless you grew. 

It bothered you, you realized. It bothered you that he had somehow got the better of you. That he had somehow won you over. Perhaps he had used a spell to make you feel this way? To make your heart flutter?

Slytherins were known for their…activites, you wouldn’t put it past them to spell someone in order to get what they wanted…but if that were true, then what did he want?

And nevermind that, weren’t you just telling him you’d regretted misjudging him simply because of who he was? Why were you backtracking now?

Because you wanted an excuse. You wanted something to blame for the way you were beginning to feel toward him–which was a great deal less than a classmate should feel. 

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t at all fair. You bit the inside of your cheek. If people found out, your friends and family…how would they react? What would they say? A Ravenclaw and a Slyterhin. Or better yet, a Ravenclaw and the Dark Lord's son?

But you knew you were falling faster than you could stop to care about such things. You just couldn’t admit that to yourself…not yet. Now now, when midterms were just around the corner and all eyes would be on you and your classmates.

You already had too much on your plate, between leading a study group for those who needed to catch up, working on your own studies, and making sure no fights broke out amongst the other students as Head Girl, it was just too much.

But again, a part of you didn’t care, a part of you had already fallen headfast into whatever this was. And a part of you knew you were only saying all these things to yourself because you were afraid…afraid of rejection. It crawled up your skin like spiders, the feeling making you sick to your stomach, the thought of being rejected.

It had never seemed like something you had to care terribly about because you had never felt this way–ever.

Which brought you back to the feeling of exasperation and annoyance. Why did it have to be him? Why him?

You closed your eyes and stopped pacing. Rather, heading for the exit. You came face to face with a sleeping painting, thankfully they did not wake up. You slipped down the staircase and into a hall lit by wall sconces. The blanket wrapped around you and your night dress like a warm hug. 

You knew exactly where you were going, it was a place that allowed you to think when it got too loud inside your head. You could breathe up there, and pretend the world away.

You made little noise as you twisted and turned around the corners of Hogwarts, careful to listen for Filch and maybe even Snape–Merlin knew if the man slept or not, he didn’t seem like the type to snore off into dreamland.

You climbed the stairs of the astronomy tower, resting against the top for a second before pushing off and stepping into the roofless tower. Hues of every kind of blue danced across the tables and tools in the room. They hit your face, outlining your features in the blue darkness.

Slowly, you made your way to the balcony, your hands falling onto the railing that overlooked all of Hogwarts.

It was a gorgeous sight. The most beautiful one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. It pained you to know that most students had not a single clue as to what the tower looked like at night, but you also took a bit of pride knowing that you shared this spectacle with very few.

A bang sounded from the classroom clad in midnight grace, like someone had banged something on one of the desks.

“Who’s there?” Your eyes narrowed and you reached for your wand, only to realize it was on your nightstand in your dorm. You cursed under your breath and dropped the blanket, letting it pool around your feet.

You readied your stand, hands flexing as your eyes fixated on the figure in the dark. Tall, but not lanky–built but not all muscle.

“Show yourself.” You glowered at the laugh that came from the dark. How annoying.

You prowled forward, teeth bared as you came face to face with…

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Riddle smiled one of those half-smiles that never quite reached his eyes. “You look cute,” he nodded, stalking past you, no longer in his robes, but in black sweats and a blue sweatshirt. “Who did you plan to fight in that moomoo? Filch’s cat?” He barked out a laugh, the skin around his eyes crinkling. It was genuine. That laugh. That smile

Snap out of it! 

A scoff fell out of you just as a grin spread across your face. You hated how your heart leapt. “It’s not a moomoo, it’s a nightdress.”

He spared a second glance behind him, looking you up and down. One of his eyebrows raised and his expression went from amusement to concern, "there's a difference?”

You worked your jaw, “you’re no spectacle yourself,” your arms braced your upper body against the railing, "I didn't know Slytherin's wore anything other than snake green.”

“You’d be surprised at how we take the color black.” He tilted his head downward.

“Black isn’t a color,” you corrected.

“Ah, yes, there she is. That Ravenclaw know-it-all”

“I’m not a know-it-all!”

“Righ, and black isn’t a color.”

Your eyes twitched just then, “I was just stating a face. That doesn’t make me a know-it-all”

“You know, I’m surprised you care at all what I think.”

“I don’t.”

“Actually,” he spun around, leaning his back against the metal, his hands gripping the sides of the pole, “I think you do.”

“Of course you do,” you rolled your eyes.

“Ouch,” he brought a hand to his heart, “it pains me to hear you say that.”

“Is it life threatening?” You queried, batting your eyelashes up at him.

A bet passed and then a breath fell from him, “No?”

You clicked your tongue and shook your head, turning away from him to overlook the snowfall below, “shame.”

You could feel his stare burning the back of your head, you could also feel the way your heart kicked up at the thought of how nice he looked in casual clothing. He looked as if he’d just gotten out of the shower, and if his wet hair hadn’t been due to some freak accident, you were likely right.

“So, what are you doing out here so late?” You hummed and glanced back at him.

He shrugged, “just, thinking.”

“Hmm,” you nodded, “deep.”

Riddle scoffed, and waved with his hand, “Well, then what are you doing up here?”

You everted your gaze, unable to hold it without spilling your secret. Because you couldn’t say that you were up here looking for answers about what to do with how you were beginning to feel toward him. Why was he even up here? Why now? Why did Merlin hate you!?

“Know-it-all?” You heard him step closer. A shudder ran through you. You could smell him. He smelled like shower gel and freshly picked cherries. It reminded you of that day under the willow. It was intoxicating. The atmosphere did not help at all.

“You’ve been eating cherries.” The comment left your lips before you could even realize what you were saying. Cheeks flaming, you're turned away, trying to get rid of his presence by sheer will.

“Is it that obvious?” He sniffed himself, “I don’t smell anything.”

“It’s…” you stopped yourself. It was on his breath, in every word he spoke.

A long silence passed and in that time, he had collected himself again, shifting his body closer to yours so that your shoulders touched. You ignored it. You would ignore it.

“To be honest,” he broke the tension you’d drafted on your own, “I came up here to confess something.”

You went rigid, your mind spinning a thousand thoughts per second. “What do you mean?”

“The stars,” a dry chuckle rumbled from his throat, but it sounded more pained than joyous. “It’s stupid when I say it out loud, but I like to tell them my secrets, it helps bearing them a little easier.”

“Because you can’t tell anyone else, right?” You tried to ignore the way his boiling brown eyes swept over you, wringing your hands out in front you. “Even though you’re always surrounded, the only times you feel like you can speak your mind are when you’re alone.” His stare intensified, like he was really seeing you for the first time.

When he finally looked away, you exhaled. “It’s interesting.”

“What do you mean…” perhaps he thought you were weird? Was that really the vibe you gave off?

The corner of his lip lifted in an almost half smile. It sent your stomach to your feet. “You. You’re interesting.”

Your lips pressed together and you swallowed. “I guess…. I mean I get it. I came up here with a question.  Maybe I hoped that they would answer me…or something–I don’t know…” You shrugged, “...it’s complicated.”

“If I understand anything, it’s complicated confessions.”

You snorted, “how poetic.”

“It’s true though.”

You stared at him, taking in his appearance for a lot longer than necessary. “You know you are such a nerd.”

“Thanks,” a toothy smile gave way, and in turn, had you mimicking it.

You shook your head, “what did you want to confess?”

“Well, you see, that’s only for them to know.” He pointed to the sky.

“I could be your star,” you mumbled, “if only for tonight.”

Riddle's grin made you want to crawl under your sheets and never resurface. “That might have been that corniest line I’ve ever heard, Ravenclaw.”

“What, I’m not Know-It-All anymore?”

“Do you want to be?” His quick-paced response pissed you off.

“You’re annoying.”

“Ah ah,” you clicked his tongue and shook his finger in your face, “Stars don’t talk, they only listen. That’s their job.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m sure you do.” He sighed, lifting his arms over his head, stretching.

You felt the need to punch the smugness off his stupidly handsome face. Stupid, stupid.

Silence encompassed the space between you and him, which wasn’t much of anything. You felt your heart beat speed up as he shifted and cleared his throat. “So, what was your question?”

You tried to keep calm, “it’s private.”

He raised an unconvinced brow, “you can’t seriously expect me to spill all my secrets and receive nothing in return.”

“I don't expect you to reveal any secrets!” Your face warmed and you turned away.

“Any louder and Filch might catch us again.”

“Shut up,” you murmured.

“But maybe,” he nudged you with his shoulder, “maybe that’s what you want…”

Wide eyes met his, the color of molten lava. You couldn't tell what he saw when he looked at you, you just hoped it wasn’t something as pathetic as embarrassment.

That same half grin crept onto his face again, you wanted to punch it away. It would give you some relief, if only for a few minutes. But it might be worth it…

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s just as interesting as you.” He turned his eye back on the snowfall in front of him.

You stood there in the quiet cold for what felt like years. And it was nice. It was calming. Something you never would have expected from Mattheo Riddle, and yet here you were. Enjoying his presence more than you’d ever enjoyed being alone. That was interesting. 

You snuck a glance over at him, flushing when his eyes flickered to your immediately after.

Almost as interesting as him. 

a/n: thank you for the wait darlings xx

“Well, you never shut up about that dream journal so that’s a truth,” Lily laughed.

“And you’re in loooooove with Potter so that has to be the other truth,” Emmeline said, her voice teasing. 

James couldn’t see it, but your smile twisted mischievously. 

He was also confused. How could that be the truth if you’ve also read that book multiple times? Were you in love with him?

“But she’s read Frankenstein more than twice?” Dorcas said, voicing James’ confusion. “Cause she read it first year and then again in fourth. And I swear she had it in her hands in September.”

The girls looked at you intently. The silence was deafening to James.

“James was the lie, my dears,” you said sweetly. 

Oh. Guess not. Emmeline must’ve been wrong. 

“Only been in love with him since fourth year,” you continued. “He was a bit of a prat in second, if I’m being honest.”

“In second year?” Lily gasped. “He still it!”

“To each their own.”

So… you were in love with James. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He turned around and took a different route back to the Gryffindor Tower, but not without passing Mary. She waved to James and went down the hall to girls’ night.

“What I miss?”

“Y/N pulled a technicality in two truths and a lie,” Dorcas said. “Do you know which year she fell in love with Potter?”

“Fourth?”

“Correct. This is why you’re my favorite.”

“Was he in here?” Mary asked, sitting down next to you. 

“No? It’s girls’ night? No boys here,” Pandora said. 

“Huh. Well, I passed him on my way back. Looked like he was coming from this hall.”

Your eyes went wide with horror. The idea that James might have heard you declare your love for him made you want to curl up and die. Your best guy friend wasn’t supposed to know that you liked him and wanted to be more than friends. 

The Marauders’ dorm door opened with a bang, James having used more force than necessary. He appeared to be in some sort of daydreaming state. 

“She loves me.” Air. Light. Tinged with a happy disbelief. 

“Who you talking ‘bout? Your mum?” Peter asked. He got up to close the door James had left open.

“She loves me.”

“It’s got to be his mum, right? No other she loves him,” Peter said, looking at Sirius and Remus. 

“Effie loving him isn’t new thought,” Remus said as James stood in the middle of the room.

“Didn’t be come from quidditch?” Sirius asked. “Marlene’s the only girl on the team, and, uh, she’s not loving Prongs anytime soon.”

“Not if Dorcas has anything to do about it,” Remus chuckled. 

Sirius threw a wadded up sock at James.

“Oi! Who loves you?”

“Y/N loves me.”

The air in the room stilled. The three boys stared at James. 

Ever since being introduced to you in second year, James had adored you. At first, he just thought you would be a fantastic friend. You had offered him and the boys advice on how to prank some Slytherins and not get caught, and then it worked. As James got older, he started trying to show off to get your attention. No matter what he did, it worked. If he succeeded at whatever he was attempting, you were smiling at him; if he failed and fell flat on his face, you were laughing and he loved that sound. It took him a little longer to realize that you were indeed very pretty and he wanted more than friendship from you. His fear of risking your friendship was enough to prevent him from asking you out. 

“Does she now?” Remus asked carefully. 

James nodded. “Said so herself. I heard her. And Emmeline said it too. That Y/N loves me. Emmeline doesn’t love me.”

“Y/N said so? To you? Just now?” Peter pressed. 

“Well, not to me,” James said, breaking out of the dazed state he had previously been in. “They’re having their girls’ night gossipy thing. I just happened to be walking by.”

The boys were all staring at each other. No one said anything. James was still on the high of hearing you say you loved him. You’d loved him since fourth year. The other three were trying to figure out if they should be doing damage control or being wingmen. 

Sirius broke the silence. “I’ll bite. What’s next?” 

“What do you mean?” James asked. 

“What do you do now? If she really said that, and you still feel how do you… What’s your move?” 

James didn’t answer right away. 

“Right, since you didn’t burst into the room and snog her to death,” Peter said.

“Because that would’ve told them I was eavesdropping!”

“You were.” “Unimportant,” James said, waving his hand in front of him dismissively. “I think I just… try to let things happen but give it a little more umph.”

“More umph?” Remus asked. 

“Yeah. I’ll be… more.”

More. Remus thought. Because James wasn’t already a lot. 

“Don’t worry, lads. I got this. You know why?”

“Why?” Sirius asked. 

“Because Y/N loves me.” 

---

In the morning, you were barely half awake as you walked into the Great Hall. You were only half surprised when James waved you over. Sometimes he was eager to hear what you dreamed about, other times he wanted to tell you what had occurred late last night or early this morning. But there was also the chance that he overheard you last night and that sat like a stone in your stomach. 

You sat next to him despite that, and he pushed a plate in front of you. 

“Put it together myself,” he said with a proud smile.

You looked at the plate. Your usual breakfast but the fruit was in the shape of a smiley face. Cute. 

“Thanks,” you said quietly. 

You slowly picked at your breakfast. James had never put your plate together before, but he obviously paid attention to what you ate. You swore you felt the Marauders all staring at you. 

“Is… is there something on my face?” you asked. 

“No. Nothing,” Peter said, as all four of them found something else to look at. 

That wasn’t reassuring. You ate the rest of your breakfast in near silence, and you’d stop by the loo on the way to your first class to ensure that you looked okay. James waited for you. 

“Feeling alright?” he asked as you stepped out.

You jumped, not realizing that he was waiting for you. Your face burned. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Just a bit tired, I guess.”

“Oh, then let me carry those,” James said as he reached for your books. “Late night with the girls?” 

Your face got even redder. 

“I think we were sneaking back after curfew…”

“Marlene was pissed I had evening practice. But we play Ravenclaw on Saturday. I had to have her there.”

“Afraid you’ll lose to my house? The superior house?” you teased.

“You know you’re invited to the party when we win, right?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Or you can come to our party when we win?” 

“As tempting as that is, if we lose, I’ll be fighting an acromantula in the forest to regain my honor.”

“Ah yes, because flying on a broom and fighting a large spider are about the same thing.”

“They are!” 

“I think the spider is more impressive,” you said as you approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. “The bigger, the scarier, the more impressive. And you never fight spiders. You win at quidditch almost every match.” 

“Would you want to see me defeat a big ol’ nasty spider?” 

“No. You cannot make me go into the forest for that.” You patted his cheek. “But if you do, bring me back some acromantula venom. It’s rare.” 

James smiled dumbly as you walked toward your desk. He didn’t move into the classroom until you were sitting. 

“Well?” Remus asked when James sat down next to him.

“I’m going to fight a spider for her.” 

“Come again?” 

James blinked. He shook his head and said, “I think I need to fight a spider. Big one. Might need backup but don’t tell her that.” 

“You’re… fighting a spider? I mean… No. I don’t understand.” 

“She needs venom.” 

---

After lessons, James practically insisted you work on homework together. He moved his chair so close that it was practically touching yours. Every time you moved, your arms brushed. He leaned over to compare his answers with yours, and every time he did so, you got a whiff of his cologne. You weren’t sure if he had always worn it. 

You thought James was simply being extra friendly today. That was it. Or so you thought. In the morning, you were met with your breakfast already put together and the smiley face fruit back. And when you walked to class together, he offered to carry your books again. 

“Just trying to get extra weights in or something?” you teased as you handed over your books after Potions. 

“Got to keep it up, you know,” he said. “Can’t be slimming down.” 

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I think you’re good.”

But you let him carry your books anyway. And you didn’t think anything of it when he sat with you and Emmeline for lunch. If you had, you would’ve simply assumed that he was trying to get an eye on the enemy for Saturday, in some roundabout way. It wasn’t like the captain was discussing plays over sandwiches and juice. 

Then James picked up your books to walk with you to Muggle Studies. You didn’t even have the chance to carry your own books, especially since you wouldn’t have stood a chance if you tried to rip them from his hands. And he continued to do so all day. Class to class, room to room and then to the library when he insisted that you study together again. 

The same thing happened on Wednesday, except he didn’t study with you after lessons. Just a quick hug and “I got practice!”

You were met with pre-made breakfast with fruit in the shape of a heart this time in the morning. And by the end of the day, you really realized that he had been walking you to all of your classes, even the ones that he didn’t have with you. You tried not to think too hard on it. You knew it was essentially boyfriend behavior and there was no way that James liked you like that. He was just super nice. That was all. 

---

You bundled up in all of your Ravenclaw gear before heading to breakfast. James waved you over like had every morning this week, despite knowing you’d stick out like a sore thumb. And just like every other morning, James had your plate ready, fruit shaped like a heart again. 

“I can’t believe you’re not cheering for me!” James said as you sat down and pulled the plate toward you. 

“I can cheer for you in my house’s gear. I’m just cheering for my house and not yours. Not my fault that my favorite player is on the wrong team,” you said. 

James leaned close to your face. “I’m your favorite player?”

You felt your face heat. You shoved a forkful of fruit into your mouth and nodded. Your voice probably would’ve cracked if you tried to speak at that moment. You had assumed James knew he was your favorite player. You weren’t a die-hard quidditch fan, nor were you exceptionally close with anyone on your house’s team. So yes, you’d be cheering for him despite hoping that your house came out on top. 

“It’s actually a win-win, if you think about it,” you said. “If Ravenclaw wins, my house gets the win and bragging rights for a while. If Gryffindor wins, my best friends win and their happiness is mine.” 

“So you’re saying I don’t have to throw the match to see you smile?” 

You laughed so hard you almost sent juice out of your nose. “Like you would ever throw a match!”

For you, I would, James thought. He’d never say it outloud, at least in public. He couldn’t have his team knowing that he’d actually do that for you. You weren’t even dating. 

“It’s going to be a good game. I know it,” you said after composing yourself. 

When James finished eating, you walked with him down to the pitch. He usually took longer than you to eat given the sheer amount of food he inhaled. In a totally casual way that definitely could not be read into as romantic, James put his arm around your shoulders as you walked. 

“Am I really your favorite player?” James asked more genuinely than he had at the table. “Like out of all quidditch players, professionals too?”

You looked up at him. The sun was glinting off the metal frames of his glasses, his hair already looked windswept. He didn’t even need to try to be good looking; he just was. 

“It’s not even a competition.” You paused. “But I don’t know many professionals and I do know you really well. So I may be biased.”

“You’re my favorite fan.”

“Like out of all quidditch fans? Professionals too?”

“Out of everyone.” 

“I think you’re trying to get me to cheer for your whole team,” you said. “You won’t catch me in Gryffindor gear.” 

“What if it was mine?” 

You almost stumbled, but James caught you. 

“Like my jumper or scarf or something?”

His hands were still holding you.

“Um… Maybe… If, if you weren’t playing Ravenclaw in like half an hour.”

James ran a hand through his hair as he chuckled. “Well, yeah. But think about it? You could take one of my jumpers and wear it to classes or something or when we play Hufflepuff in a few weeks.”

“O-okay. I’ll think about it.” 

The rest of the short walk to the pitch was quiet. Your mind was spinning with the fact that James had just offered one of his sweaters to you, to wear to class and games. You couldn’t put a platonic spin on that. Did James like you more than you  thought? Or were you just reading way into it? But people didn’t offer their clothes like that and have it be “as friends.” 

“Good luck hug?” he asked as you reached the locker room.

You nodded and wrapped your arms around him. He rested his chin on the top of your head. Both of you felt like this felt right. 

“Good luck, James,” you mumbled into his chest before letting go. “But Ravenclaw’s going to sweep the pitch with you.” 

You winked and turned for the stands. You went to the Ravenclaw section and sat down to wait for the rest of the student body to join you. Not everyone had walked out with someone on the teams. 

Slowly but surely, the stands filled up. The game started and it was immediately clear which team was better. You lost any hope of Ravenclaw winning when James scored his seventh goal of the match – and the other two Gryffindor chasers were holding their own as well. It probably wouldn’t matter which team ended up catching the snitch. Gryffindor kept their pace and scored goal after goal. Ravenclaw trailed far behind. Even with their beaters trying to hit the chaser, Ravenclaw couldn’t keep up. You wondered if the Ravenclaw seeker debated catching the snitch to just end the match after a while. Luckily, for him at least, he didn’t have to make that decision. 

A roar from across the pitch announced that the Gryffindor seeker caught the snitch. You weren’t upset. Like you had said, their win was a win for you. James had played one of his best games. You pushed your way through the sluggish Ravenclaws so you could find him on the pitch. Having lost, your housemates weren’t moving all that quickly. 

It looked like a fair amount of students had already congregated on the pitch as you reached the ground. You scanned the sea of Gryffindors and various Hufflepuffs to find James. He was the only one you really needed to see. You could see the others later when they undoubtedly dragged you to their party. 

He saw you before you saw him. 

“Y/N!” he yelled, waving. 

Your face lit up now that you could see him. Even a good distance away, you could see his post-win glow. As you tried to move closer to him, James was weaving through the crowd to get to you as well. 

When you reached him, you went in for a hug, as you usually did after a well-played match. He also appeared to be going in for a hug, except his hands found your face instead of wrapping around you. And then his lips captured yours in a firm kiss. 

Oh.

OH!

It was better than you could’ve dreamed, his lips on yours, moving just enough for it to feel like a dream. His hands held your face near his. 

After a few seconds that felt like minutes, he rested his forehead against yours.

“It’s not acromentula venom, but-”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

At least his sweater made more sense now. It wasn't platonic.

„why the rush, darling?“ he asked, keeping up with your pace as well as he could, still tired from last night which had lasted longer than it should’ve; peter, remus, sirius and him too busy sneaking around the castle and setting up shenanigans to sleep. at least there wasn’t ever a single day of boredom with them in the castle.

butterflies erupted in your stomach at the nickname, but you tried to suppress it the best you could. he managed to fluster you with his little pet names everytime without exception, and every yet so small sliver of hope you would get from them, you’d kill off. you’d go mad, otherwise.

„i’m hurrying to class james,“ you smiled at him, „and i think you should be too.“, grabbing his arm to pull him with you. you couldn’t see the way he blushed at your action, and he was glad. it was embarrassing how in love with you he was, considering the amount of attention other boys were giving you.

he could understand, obviously. it was already hard to not fall for your looks, but the fact your bubbly and inviting personality was just as perfect? how could anybody not fall for that? he was sure the sole reason remus and sirius saw you as only a friend was because they knew how enamored with you he was.

but you didn’t know. „he’s just a very sweet and nice person“ was what you said to lily when she asked you about it. you liked him, no question. but you saw the way he would flirt with other girls at parties and in hogsmead, occasionally winking at them even though lily and you were walking just next to him. so to you, he was just a friend, even though you would easily smother him in kisses if he ever just bought you flowers or opened doors for only you like the other stupid guys always did, not only as a friendly gesture but as something more.

you realized he wouldn’t, so there was no point in waiting for him. instead, while he was busy chatting with different girls at parties, you were seated in a quiet corner, talking to your girlfriends and having a drink or two yourself, dancing with guys here and there if they asked you nicely and sometimes, if they were being very polite, you’d give them a tiny kiss on the cheek and a little wave before getting another butterbeer and walking back to your friends once again.

that was probably what made you so irresistible, the fact you would never go as far as even giving a little peck on the lips while other girls were ready to go back to the dorm with said guys. you weren’t one to judge, neither the girls nor the boys, they could do whatever they want, it wasn’t your business. and if they wanted to get laid and got the chance, why not do it? just not with you.

however, they thought you were playing hard to get on purpose, and who wouldn’t be up for a challenge when it’s about a girl like you?

but even when every guys’ head turned to look at you whenever you entered the room, you didn’t care. you didn’t even notice, you were just living in the moment, deeply into the meaningful - or sometimes meaningless - banter with your friends, not a single care in the world.

well, for some reason one nerve of yours always got very terribly struck whenever you would lift your head only to see james‘ hand steadied on some other gryffindor‘s back. „whatever“ was what you always thought, head turning back to whoever was talking right now.

and it didn’t take long for james to leave your mind, at least until you were laid down on your bed at three in the morning where james would haunt your mind in ways you wouldn’t dare to say out loud.

„you got a date for the party today yet?“ he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he possibly could. „i prefer to go with my friends, as you already know.“

„well, we are friends, no?“

„class starts in a few, we can talk later.“ you said to him, avoiding his eyes as you made your way over to lily who was already sitting at your usual place in the charm‘s classroom, her hands immediately going to fix the little ribbon in your hair when you sat down to her right. she must’ve seen that you were in a rush just a few seconds ago, and the confused look on your face didn’t go unnoticed either. „what’s up with you, you look-“

„james just asked me on a ‚date‘, i think“ you stated, but it came out rather like a question while you knitted your eyebrows in a puzzled manner.

„well, i told you before he has a thing for you“

„but i don’t believe it“

„why not? it’s basically written on his face that he’s head over heels for you“

you were just about to reply, a look of disapproval already plastered on your face, but got interrupted by the professor. after the lesson the topic was already forgotten, lily and you talking about what you were going to wear tonight rather than the, to you very ridiculous, james situation.

it wasn’t until the party, which you attended hand in hand with lily, that james and you began to talk again. you were just about to get yourself another firewhiskey shot when he appeared right next to you at the small bar counter.

„how come you always reject when you get asked out?“

the question caught you off guard. he wasn’t the first to ask you that question, but you’ve never felt so called out after someone interrogated like that. your eyes widened slightly and you nervously bit your lip. what were you supposed to answer? „i realized i don’t have a chance with you so i gave up on relationships completely“?

„i just don’t want to date someone i don’t like like that, i guess.”

it wasn’t a lie, after all. you could just simply wait until the feelings faded, and then maybe you would be open for something new. until then, you would just have to keep on pretending like your feelings towards him did not exist.

„i suppose you don’t like me, then?“

„what?“

„you rejected me too today, didn’t you?“

you were startled by his questions, and suddenly it felt like it was just you two in this actually very crowded common room, the air around you feeling tighter and more stifling than usual.

„do you like me, james? like, like-like me? because everybody’s been telling me but i feel like i’m going crazy because i like-like you but you keep flirting with other girls and you wink and wave at them and you put your arms around them and i hate that but i don’t want things between us to be weird because i don’t want to lose you as a friend eith-“ you stumbled over your words in hurry, every nerve of yours spinning and pulling and you could feel your own face heat up.

“you like me?”

“i- uh- i asked first!” your heard was racing and you hoped to merlin that he felt the same way and you didn’t just make a fool out of yourself, confessing to a guy who doesn’t even see you like that.

he didn’t exactly answer the question, but he showed you.

his eyes were full of appreciation as he leaned down to you, gently caressing your face as he pressed his lips against yours. and finally, you felt at peace with your own feelings. your lips continued to move in sync until you heard a few claps behind you which broke you apart. when you turned around, you found sirius winking at you and lily eyeing you with a proud look on her face.

it was only when you faced james again that you saw the way he actually looked at you all this time, with his head resting on his hand, dreamy eyes trying to catch yours.