false god | blaise zabini x reader
song; false god [taylor swift]
pairing; blaise zabini x pure-blood!slytherin!fem!reader
genre; arranged marriage, angst, hurt comfort, fluff, sort-of-e2l
word count; 4,7k
timeline; deathly hallows
warnings; swearing, references to sex/hook-ups, references to battle injuries, questionable views on muggle-borns
summary; you had been betrothed to blaise zabini practically your whole life, and while you moved in the same friend group, he had always avoided you. you tried to understand, you really did, but were you really so undesirable?
happy belated valentine's day!!
masterlist
"they say the road gets hard and you get lost when you're led by blind faith."
——————————————
The ring of plated white gold and emerald jewels had sat comfortably on your left ring finger ever since you had been big enough to wear it. It was worth a fortune, as your parents frequently reminded you, so it would be disrespectful to the Zabini family to not wear it with pride. You obeyed, even though Blaise - your affianced - had not worn his (more masculine) twin ring for as long as you had known him.
Sometimes you would catch the pitying looks of your mutual friends whenever the sun shone just right on the piece of jewellery, catching everyone's attention. They all knew that Blaise avoided you, never spoke to you, but it was an unspoken matter. You did your best to never show your hurt on your face, and be a strong and positive woman, like your parents had raised you to be.
You just wanted to make them proud.
It's not that you were in love with Blaise, not by any means. You would have to have actually spoken and bonded with the man to reach that stage. Regardless, rejection hurt, especially when you had no part in the arrangement of your marriage either. You were in the same position as he was, yet he acted as if you were at fault for the situation he found himself in.
You weren't a bad person, and you were at least decently attractive - was it really so bad to be betrothed to you? Why couldn't he just make the best of a bad situation and try to get to know you?
***
The Hogwarts Express had never been colder, even the warm red seats looked sallow and grey, reflecting the sullen looks on everyone's faces. You let out a sigh, pulling your thick jacket tighter around you and sinking into the cushions. Pansy was sat next to you, chewing on her lip thoughtfully as she stared at the water droplets cascading down the window. You hadn't said a word to each other apart from a greeting.
In fact, everyone on the train seemed to be sitting in silence.
Slytherin was the only house with almost full attendance from its students, as even the families who didn't support the death eaters felt confident in the safety of their children thanks to their blood status. The same couldn't not be said for the other houses, which had lost a good chunk of their students due to parental fears. Especially the muggle-borns - every single muggle-born you knew in your year had not shown up to catch the train.
It wasn't a mystery as to why: showing up to the school that was now overseen by Voldemort as a muggle-born was a death wish.
Despite its pure-blood status, your family didn't support Voldemort. That's not to say that they didn't have prejudices against muggle-borns, or that they would let you marry one, but they certainly didn't wish death upon them and would likely be okay with you befriending them. Just as long as you kept your bloodline pure.
The L/N family had remained a neutral party during the First Wizarding War, and were doing the same now during the second.
"Have you seen Draco?" Pansy asked, not even looking at you.
"I think I saw him at the platform at one point."
She hummed, and the silence fell again.
You began biting your nails.
***
The reign of Severus Snape as headmaster of Hogwarts had officially begun, casting an even more intense shadow over the school. As a Slytherin, this was actually quite good news, but you weren't so selfish that you could disregard the wellbeing of the other houses. Plus, the subject changes like Defence Against the Dark Arts becoming simply- the Dark Arts- were quite jarring.
"Can someone pass me the roast potatoes?" the emotionless voice of your fiancé rang out, signifying that he was talking to you. Normally, when talking to your other friends, he would smile, say please, even laugh. But when he was talking to you, he would do so indirectly and without emotion.
Sure enough, you were the person closest enough to the roast potatoes, but you decided to hold back in fulfilling his request, instead locking eyes with him. "Say please."
His eyes bored into yours for a few moments, before he scoffed and said, "Please."
"Was that so hard?" you mumbled, passing over the potatoes. Your friends had gone silent during the exchange, some of them sending pitiful glances your way. You were sick of being treated this way, both by Blaise and your friends, even if your friends did have good intentions.
You resumed your meal, aiming to at the very least enjoy the food of your last ever welcome feast at Hogwarts.
***
All you knew about Blaise was what your parents and friends had told you.
He was a pure-blood, and the son of a beautiful witch who had been widowed seven times under suspicious circumstances and become richer every time. As far as you could tell, it was highly likely that one of these dead husbands was Blaise's father. Admittedly, it made you nervous to marry into such a family, so perhaps it was a good thing that Blaise was so unwilling.
But your mother had told you that you had nothing to worry about, as Ms. Zabini only ever married bad men, and used it as a means to eradicate them.
"A noble cause."
Still, you had the rights to be nervous.
"Back to school party tonight," Millicent bounced up to you and announced, "Just us Slytherins."
"A party?" you had forgotten that such an event existed, given the misery of the world.
"I mean, yeah, we all need a pick-me-up," she shrugged, "It'll be in the common room. Bring firewhiskey."
You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but ultimately decided that drunkenness was just what the doctor ordered.
***
In your defence, you had started off slow with the drinks, mixing with lemonade and gradually sipping over a long period of time. However, once that system had (slowly but surely) gotten you drunk, all bets were off.
"Shots!" someone had shouted, and next thing you knew you were downing your sixth shot, after however many mixed drinks you had.
You stumbled away from the dancers to where some of your friends sat chatting, having the sudden feeling that you weren't too far away from passing out.
"Pansy..." you slurred, flopping on to the sofa next to her.
"Salazar, Y/N, how much have you drunk?"
Ignoring her question, you mumbled, "I feel amazing."
"A little self-control next time, yeah?"
You waved her off, no longer feeling like you were about to pass out so stumbling to your feet. You looked around the room with your eyes squinted, deciding that another drink was an excellent idea.
As you were on your way over - your friends calling after you - your vision became blurrier, until you bumped into a hard chest.
"What the fuck?" you cursed, narrowing your eyes and looking up at the person who inconvenienced you.
"Zabini," you muttered.
"Should you be getting another drink?" he asked.
You blanked him, "Does it kill you to be nice to me?"
He said nothing, biting on his inner cheek.
That was when the feeling of passing out returned, only this time in tenfold, making you drop forward. Your eyelids were heavy, you had to close them, and your body was heavy too, too much effort to remain stood up...
The only things you remember seeing after that were flashes of the stairs down to the dormitories - but you weren't walking, so how was that possible? And then throwing up in a toilet bowl, with your hair for some reason out of the way.
And then cushions, and quilt. But not yours: they smelled gorgeous, so you nuzzled your head into the scent and sighed dreamily.
***
When your eyes slowly peeled themselves open the next morning, your head was pounding and you were quite disoriented. Initially, you seemed to be tucked up in your own bed, but upon closer inspection you realised that the forest green decor was not in the usual place of the Slytherin seventh year girls' dormitories. In fact, this was a room that you had never seen before.
"You're up."
Your eyes shot towards the entrance to the connected bathroom, and every limb in your body froze as you laid eyes upon Blaise Zabini, already showered and dressed even though it was a Saturday.
"What- I-" you stuttered, sitting up in bed. You were relieved to see that you were still in the party clothes from the night before: you weren't opposed to a hook-up, but you would've liked to remember it.
"Relax," he sighed, "You blacked out last night. Carried you down here because I can't go down the girls' stairs."
You nodded slowly, trying to piece together the events, "Right..."
He said nothing, moving over to the dresser to spray a fragrance on his wrists. He truly was your typical classy rich boy. You took this opportunity to look around at the other beds in the room, seeing that the curtains were drawn around one in particular.
"Your beloved Pansy is in there."
Salazar, had she and Draco had sex while you were sleeping in the same room?
"At the very least they put a sound-proofing charm on," Blaise confirmed that thought, and you couldn't help but remark that this was the most he had ever spoken to you.
"Where did you sleep?" you had to ask.
This time, Blaise blanked you, his dark oak eyes void of emotion.
"Next to you," he eventually said, making your breath hitch. "Like we're not engaged, L/N," he scoffed, making you scowl.
"Since when have you acted like it?"
He didn't reply, and you decided that if you let it escalate to an argument, you might wake up the others. So, you forced yourself out of bed, picking up your shoes and leaving without another word.
Walk of shame, here you come.
***
Typically, if one of the girls in your dorm stumbled in the morning after a party in their clothes from the night before, there would be immediate questions of what happened and with who. But, when you entered your dorm, you were met with silence. Partially because half of the girls were still asleep, but mainly because the girls who were awake avoided looking at you.
Daphne was the only one forward enough to say something. "I saw Blaise carry you down."
To be fair, that would explain the lack of questions about hook-ups. They hadn't suspected that the two of you had sex. You simply hummed in response, just wanting to strip yourself of your clothes and makeup and crawl under your own duvet.
But Daphne still wasn't forward enough to ask if that meant your engagement had become a less cold one, as that would be entering the territory of the unspoken agreement to never mention the elephant in the room of Blaise's unwarranted disdain for you.
So, you were able to settle into a new slumber unhindered.
***
The party had been a pleasant but unfortunately temporary distraction from the miserable atmosphere that was Hogwarts. Learning the dark arts made you feel dirty, unclean - like you were announcing to the whole world that you were a death eater. You knew you weren't, and that you would never receive the Dark Mark, but you couldn't help but feel like a bad person.
You knew, however, that being a Slytherin meant the other houses looked at you with disdain, and also that many of your friends weren't entirely opposed to the Dark Lord's cause. It was something that made you sick to your stomach, yet you refused to voice these thoughts to anyone.
Not even Christmas could cheer you up, when before the colourfully decorated castle walls had filled you with a joy like no other. It didn't even feel like Christmas, it was as if all the saturation in the world had been lost, leaving behind a cold, dull grey hue. You had never been so sure of the fact that you would go home for Christmas than you were that year. At least your home wasn't shadowed by the rule of Voldemort, even if it was a tad cold and empty.
"I'll see you in the new year, yeah?" Daphne said to you, pulling you into a hug, "Have a good Christmas."
"You too," you returned the embrace, "And happy new year."
She smiled at you, and that was when you caught sight of Blaise in the corner of your eye. You hadn't spoken since the events of the Slytherin party, primarily because you had avoided him. But, he was walking towards you.
"Merry Christmas," he said monotonously, and Daphne took that as her cue to disappear.
"Merry Christmas," you said curtly back, picking up your trunk as you prepared to get off the train.
"Our families are having dinner together over the holiday."
You hesitated in your movements upon hearing that, but decided against replying, instead leaving him stood there with an expressionless face.
***
It wasn't that your parents didn't love you or care for you by any means, you knew that if you refused to marry Blaise Zabini they wouldn't disown you. But, they were raised with certain values and customs, and you had been raised into them as well. You wanted to make them proud - you just wished that the husband they had picked for you was a more willing participant in the arrangement.
So, when Blaise Zabini and his recently widowed (for the millionth time) mother arrived on your doorstep, the smile on your face wasn't entirely false. There were some truth to your emotions, despite the current state of the world.
"As you know, Blaise and Y/N are in their final year of Hogwarts," Ms Zabini spoke proudly once you were all sat around your dining table, "I believe it's time we start planning the wedding."
"I couldn't agree more," your mother replied, "It should be an elegant affair."
"That goes without saying."
You chewed on your lip.
"Y/N, what colour theme would you like?" your mother asked.
Your breath hitched, as you tried to scrape together a daydream of your dream wedding.
"Maybe pastel green?" you suggested timidly, "Since we're both Slytherins."
Ms Zabini nodded her head approvingly, "Is that agreeable to you, Blaise?"
The man shrugged, "Whatever Y/N wants."
"That makes things easy," the widow said, "It shall be a wonderful event."
***
After dinner, your collective parents had left you and Blaise to your own devices, suggesting that you show him your room. Part of you was surprised they were allowing a boy into your bedroom with no supervision, but you supposed some formalities were wavered due to your engagement to be married.
Blaise snorted when he entered your room: covered in moving posters and animated Lego sets, your four poster bed being pink and frilly with enchanted butterfly decor all around the wood.
"It's a bit mismatched," he said simply.
"It's home."
He raised an eyebrow at that, and silence consumed the both of you. The tension that hung in the air was thick, making you feel like you would go insane if you didn't say something.
"I'm not that bad, you know."
Blaise turned to face you from where he was sat at your desk, meanwhile you had perched on the end of your bed.
"I get that being tied to someone not of your choosing is a bit suffocating - believe me, I know - but you could make it easier for yourself by actually trying to get to know me."
"I do know you."
You rolled your eyes, "You know what I mean, Blaise," his first name was a foreign taste on your tongue, "You could have a worse wife than me."
He appeared to ponder your words for a while, stewing in the dampening tension of the atmosphere meanwhile you anxiously awaited his response. It was as if every action he took was intentional in making your nerves spike.
"The truth is, Y/N, I resent you."
You sat, stunned.
"My freedom to choose has been taken away from me."
Your blood boiled, making you stand up, "And I'm to blame for that? I'm in the same situation as you are, you knobhead."
He said nothing.
"I wasn't the one who made the decision. Stop acting like you're the only one here who's having a hard time."
Blaise went to open his mouth, but you carried on.
"Not to mention, there are people out there dying in the war right now," you vaguely gestured towards the window, "You should count your lucky stars that the biggest problem in your life is having to marry me!"
You scoffed, watching as he stared wide-eyed at you. After you realised he had nothing to say, you left the room to head down to the kitchens. Salazar, you needed a cup of hot chocolate after that whole ordeal.
***
The dark grey clouds cast a grim shadow over the once buzzing atmosphere of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and they only seemed to get gloomier by the day. It was all you could do to stand on the sheltered bridge as you watched rain pour down, even though it was meant to be Spring. The mood of the wizarding world had always had a strange effect on the weather.
Your gloveless fingers were beginning to grow numb in the cold, but you didn't move, nor make any attempt to warm them up. You just wish that you could say that your low mood was for something as selfless as the current danger muggle-borns were in. But, no, you were egotistically thinking about your own qualms - i.e. your upcoming wedding with a man who hardly looked your way.
Ever since the argument at Christmas, he had gone back to disregarding your existence, apart from the few occasions you would catch him staring at you when he thought no one was watching. Aside from that, both your mother and his were frequently owling you about decisions for the wedding, which was making the whole ordeal seem a lot more real than it did before.
"L/N," the last voice that you expected to hear called out from beside you.
Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to turn around, as if you were paralysed.
"You'll freeze to death out here," he spoke again, this time closer to you, "Everyone's wondering where you are."
Slowly, you turned your head to look at Blaise Zabini, your sallow eyes boring into his.
"They're looking everywhere for you."
"Tell them I'm fine," you eventually spoke.
"I don't think you are, though," he sighed, "You look like you're one minute away from hypothermia."
You shrugged, "Nothing magic medicine can't fix."
Blaise rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand, "Fuck, you're like ice."
That was when he started dragging you back to the castle, and you didn't have the energy to resist at all.
"What are you doing out here, anyway?"
You scoffed, "Like you couldn't guess."
He didn't reply to that statement, instead saying, "We're getting you warmed up."
He sat you in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, wrapping a forest green blanket around you and placing a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hand. Your friends gathered around you, asking questions about where you had been and if you were okay, but you replied to none of them. Eventually, Blaise urged them all to give you space, letting out a sigh in the process.
Your heart twisted, and you attempted to suppress the pain by sipping on the drink.
It burnt your tongue.
"Careful," Blaise murmured, sitting on the sofa behind you.
You didn't even have the energy to scowl.
"We have our NEWTs soon, you have to take care of yourself."
That wasn't the only thing you had soon.
"You don't have to pretend like you care," you eventually forced out between chattering teeth.
You paused - waiting for him to say something. Anything. Part of you was praying to the gods above that he would say he wasn't pretending, that he did truly care. Instead, his silence was deafening, and your heart twisted and turned all that more. Why couldn't you just hate him?
Who would have thought it would be such a curse to have feelings for your fiancé?
***
Dust swarmed your senses, wrenching at your lungs and causing you to cough horrifically like you were a seasoned chainsmoker; you could barely see a metre ahead of you, and it was all you could do to shield your eyes with your arm as you progressed forwards. Through the crumbles and cracks, you could hear yells of Latin, thrown aggressively and with raw passion that had your blood spiking.
As far as you could tell, you were still in the dungeons - but you needed to get out of them, as they appeared on the verge of collapsing. You hadn't particularly engaged in any duels yourself, both because you were a coward, and because you lacked duelling skills. However, you had aided some students against the death eaters here and there on your progression through the castle.
You couldn't take a completely neutral stance like your parents.
You coughed harder, spluttering as your feet found stairs and began to climb up them - stumbling, but not falling.
"Help," a strained voice called out, making you assess the situation around you as best you could. As you inched further towards the left, you could make out the figure of someone stuck under rubble halfway up the staircase. You moved even closer.
"Blaise?" you croaked out.
A groan.
"Fuck," you mumbled, quickly muttering a spell to lift the rubble off of him. You saw the blood staining his clothes and gasped.
"It snapped my wand," he said, wincing as he tried to move.
You did your best to help him up, letting him rest his weight on your shoulders as you continued to push up the stairs.
"The dungeons are about to collapse," you said, carefully navigating your way around the corner once you finished the stairs.
"The whole-" he groaned, "-castle is."
You grimaced, "You need a healer."
But getting to the makeshift hospital ward without getting caught up in a duel would be quite a challenge. Then, it suddenly hit you.
"Which side are you on?" you quickly asked.
He scoffed, "Which side do you think? I'm still here." He then hunched over with an even louder groan than before, you swiftly moved to support his weight more.
Most Slytherin students who were either neutral or on the side of the death eaters had abandoned Hogwarts instead of staying to fight. You were a coward, but you would never have been able to forgive yourself if you had left. Instead, you found yourself stuck in the dungeons, some way, somehow.
"You stayed to fight," you murmured.
He went to say something, but another sharp pain coursed through him.
"Fuck," you cursed.
***
By some miracle, you reached the hospital ward with minimal further damage, and managed to get Blaise seen to instantly. You were amazed that they didn't question two Slytherin students being on their side, but you supposed it made sense: they were the good guys.
As you watched them take his shirt off to assess the damage, a glimmer of something against his chest caught your eye. It was connected to a thin silver chain that dangled around his neck, showing slight signs of wear and tear, implying he didn't even take it off when showering. When your vision cleared, you realised that the shimmery object along the chain was none other than the white gold band of green jewels that was the matching pair to the ring on your finger.
A lump caught in your throat, "You're wearing it," you choked out.
Blaise's eyes were shut, but he smiled tiredly, "Always."
Tears pricked at your eyes.
***
Eventually, what would be known as the infamous Battle of Hogwarts ceased fire: Lord Voldemort had fallen at the hands of Harry Potter. But there weren't cheers.
There was only devastation.
The wreck that the once majestic Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had become, and the subsequent deaths of thousands of kind-hearted people who had so much life to live. It was the epitome of bittersweet to watch people going around clearing up after the battle. You were grateful to be among the living, sat next to Blaise as he slept restlessly on a mat on the floor.
There wasn't really anyone else for you to talk to in the aftermath after all: Slytherins were quite isolated from the other houses, and hardly any Slytherins had stayed.
You allowed yourself the luxury of taking Blaise's hand in your own and squeezing it gently, letting a solitary tear cascade down your cheek. Was it relief? Was it hope? Was it happiness? Or was it sadness? Melancholia? Regret?
You didn't know, you simply allowed the feeling to wash over you.
"I didn't stay to fight," Blaise said out of nowhere, his voice gruff and quiet.
"Hm?"
"I stayed because you stayed."
Your heart jolted at his words, "Really?"
"Of course," he peeled his eyes open, "'Til death do us part."
You squeezed his hand again, "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you act like you hated me?"
He sighed, appearing to be gathering as much energy together as he could, "I resented you, yes, but I- I was also scared of hurting you. You know what everyone thinks of my mother - that she's a-" he coughed, "-serial killer. Killing her husbands."
You admired his smooth face, despite its cuts and gashes.
"I was scared of becoming her, and I didn't want that to be your fate."
You reached out a hand to graze his prominent cheekbone, letting the tiniest of smiles tug at your lips.
"We'll be okay, Blaise," you murmured softly, "You're not like her."
He smiled slightly, wincing in the process. "No arranged marriages for our kids?"
You nodded, "No arranged marriages for our kids."
***
Your parents walked either side of you as you made your way down the grassy aisle, the summer heat blazing down on to the prettily flowered meadow. In your hands was a bouquet of white and pastel green peonies, and on your figure was a gorgeous princess ball gown that cost a small fortune. All your family and friends were stood up from their seats, gazing at your every move. Blaise, proudly stood at the altar in a black suit with a mint coloured waistcoat, was no exception. His eyes were trained into yours, making your heart flip tenfold.
Meeting him in front of the officiant, you passed your bouquet off to Pansy before allowing yourself to truly smile in your fiancé's presence. He took your hands into his and squeezed ever so slightly, as the officiant began to speak.
It felt like forever before the vows.
"I, Mr Blaise Zabini, promise to take Miss Y/N L/N to be my wife, and to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part."
He slipped the ring on to your finger, where it settled above your engagement ring.
The attention was then on you.
"I, Miss Y/N L/N, promise to take Mr Blaise Zabini to be my husband, and to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part." You pushed the larger ring on to his finger.
"I now, by the power vested in me, pronounce you husband and wife."
Blaise swooped down to kiss you warmly on the lips as cheers erupted from the crowd, and you found yourself smiling into his lips.
"I love you," he whispered. Words he had never spoken before.
"I love you too."
'Til death do us part.
—————————————
masterlist
written; 27/12/2023 —> 15/02/2024
published; 16/02/2024
edited; —/—/——
131 notes
·
View notes
jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons
author’s note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake men🥵 please enjoy.
-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.
Draco Malfoy.
Sees you from down the hall as he’s walking with his friends.
“You know what, guys, I’ll catch up with you after.”
Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.
Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, he’d shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.
“What’re we talking about?” He’d sneer.
His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.
He’d simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.
“Wonderful. let’s head to class, yeah?”
He’d pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.
Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.
“Who the fuck was that, hm?”, “he was practically eye-fucking you…give me five good reasons why i shouldn’t have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.”
He’d be furious, but he’d also know that you’d never choose some other guy over him, so he’d soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.
“You’re mine, princess,” he’d loosen his grip, kissing you softly. “Say it.”
Blaise Zabini.
Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesn’t know.
He doesn’t necessarily stop walking, but he’d definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.
When the guy doesn’t leave, he’d tired of waiting, saying “fuck it”, before marching over naturally.
This man is so fucking cool calm and collected he’d just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.
He’d practically take over the conversation because he’s literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.
You’d kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.
After the dude leaves he’d just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.
“Ain’t no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.” He’d murmur against your lips. “let that be known, right now, forever, always.”
Lorenzo Berkshire.
Would literally stop everything. The second he’d see you laughing and smiling he’d be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.
Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.
Wouldn’t want to intrude so he’d just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.
His adorable little cheeks would flush, and he’d know he seemed utterly ridiculous so he’d try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.
You’d quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that he’s overthinking.
He’d smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.
“Who was that guy, darling?”
You’d tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.
“Don’t worry enz, no one could ever take your place.”
He’d blush, trying to play it off. “Sorry love, I know you’re my girl.”
You’d take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. “Only yours baby, forever.”
Mattheo Riddle.
“Who the fuck-“
Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.
You wouldn’t even have to turn around to know he’s there, you’d be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.
You’d already know exactly where this was heading, but you’d also know there was no attempting to stop him because it’s pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.
Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.
You’d simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,
“Is this fucker bothering you?”
Unable to help it, you’d smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.
“No Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-“
He’d heard more than enough.
“Study notes? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,”
Without giving the guy a chance to react, he’d reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as he’d hiss:
“Bother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes you’ll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?”
Not interested in the response, he’d shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like it’d been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.
And judging by the intensity in his grip, you’d already know, later that night, he’d be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while he’s fucking you.
When he finally pulled back, he’d smirk at you. “Some bloody nerve on that guy, huh?”
You’d just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.
Theodore Nott.
He’d spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.
Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? There’s no fucking way that he’s-
Doesn’t bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.
Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.
Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight you’d know exactly what he was trying to do.
His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then that’s when you’d attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.
He’d just shrug, smirking down at you before he’d finally acknowledge the guys’ presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.
“Move along,” he’d say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. “This one’s fucking taken.”
As soon as he got you alone he’d be damn sure to remind you that you’re his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.
Tom Riddle.
“AVADA KEDA-“
Lowkey kidding but not really.
No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.
20K notes
·
View notes