ᴀʟʟ's ғᴀɪʀ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ- 𝘈 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘰 𝘙𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

0~ the midlogue? if you'd like another chapter just comment! <3

The sky was an oil pastel painting.
Their romance followed suit. 

Working with such delicate materials may be tedious, the end result however, seems worth the monotony. Loving such a delicate man may have been challenging, but the work of art it created, was worth every last struggle.

She never could decipher all the layers of him, at least never in one go; just as one never really indulges in every hidden tone and colour of the evening sky upon first glance.

1st June 1997

Y/n McKinnon however, was well aware of every last tinge of the humid evening horizon that she and Mattheo Riddle found themselves beneath.
How so? This was their spot.
The place in which they kissed and cried, where they fucked and they fought, the spot in which they loved and they lied.

Currently, the two were lying intertwined breathing in the summer air, the shadow of the moon shielding them from the heat. They had witnessed the oranges of the atmosphere shift to deep navies. The boarder between the Forbidden Forrest and the Black Lake wasn't conventionally romantic, but it was theirs.
And that was enough.

A kiss, hardly noticeable, was placed upon Y/n's head.

His hand in her hair, gently massaging her head, that rested in the crook of his neck, connected to the rest of the boy's body, splayed across the hay-like grass.

He took a breath, about to speak. "I think there's grass up my arse-"
She practically snorted "Way to kill the mood sweetheart."

As she sat up, Mattheo's shirt- lazily covering her torso- slipped away causing the Slytherin to smirk at her rather adoringly.

"What's that look for?" She grinned back at him, her hands instinctively covering her front.
"Nothing..." he began, a palm slinking back around her bare waist, enabling his fingers to draw circles in the slight dip leading to her hip "Love, you needn't go yet it's only just gone eleven."
"On a Tuesday, 'Theo," those words meant nothing to him "Mione'll have my guts for garters if I wake her up again so I-"

Once again, his mouth found its way to her shoulder, ghosting the glow on her skin.
"So I can't..." she breathed out. Y/n felt his lips contort into yet another smirk.
"You can't what?"

He knew exactly what he was doing and well, it was working. As his lips met her's, Y/n's hands dropped from her chest to his own, smoothing up his body until they found themselves subconsciously in his thick locks of hickory curls.

"Maybe just ten more minutes," was spoken into his mouth and met with a short lived chuckle as the girl was pulled into his lap. "Hermione might not even be asleep y-"

Mattheo asked breathily "D'you wanna stop talking about her for two minutes, yeah?"
Their eyes locked. "Darling, I want you thinking only of me."

And that she did.

******************

Meanwhile, Hermione Granger lay in bed, eyeing the green linen sheet on the floor.

"What's got you so preoccupied, Granger?" The lean, blonde Slytherin said in between kisses down her arm, a stray strand of hair stroking her skin as he towered over her.