Can't Get Enough

Nothing At All

"Mattheo, get up."
I got a sloppy groan as a response. I tried everything. Tea, a fan to the face, tickling. Nothing was fucking working. Things had been the same between Mattheo and I since the day in the common room 2 weeks ago; cuddles in the same bed every night and mind blowing sex.

We had to wake up earlier today, much earlier. The dark lord and my mother requested to see us. So, we have to wake up stupidly early to go see them. I finally decided to try one more thing. "Love, if you wake up right now, i'll give you head." I couldn't believe that was a sentence I was actually saying. Just like that, his head shot up, rocking the bed head. Even with messy hair, he still managed to look so fucking hot. "Well, if you had put it like that earlier, I would have got up hours ago." He smirked "Well, don't you look lovely." I joked. "Why, thank you, not too bad yourself, I like what you've done with your hair."
It was only a half up half down hair style.

He got up from bed and came behind me, hugging me from behind and kissing my neck. I was looking at my outfit in my full length mirror; leather skirt, black jumper and boots. "I thought if I got up, i'd get head?" He looked at me through the mirror. "I think you dreamt that, Matty."
He pouted and it melted my heart. "Kidding." I dropped to my knees and gripped the waistband of his pj pants. He was already hard, horny bitch. I pulled them down, revealing that he had no underwear on. "Horny slag. No boxers." I tutted.

I started stoking his length, rubbing my thumb over the tip, collecting the pre-cum that had accumulated. He groaned and threw his head back. "Wake me up like this everyday, would you?" He said, making me giggle. I looked at him intently as I brought my thumb to my mouth and licked it clean. I took him into my mouth, moving slowly, teasing. I looked at him through my eyelashes and started bobbing my head up and down, licking the underside as I went. He moaned and grabbed the back of my head, pushing it further.

I kept my pace fast as he said, "I'm gonna come, already. Merlin, angel. You do things to me." I swirled my tongue around his tip and felt his cock twitch in my mouth, signalling his release. He moaned my name and came in my mouth.

I was planning on it anyway but he said, "Swallow." I did as he asked and swallowed every last drop. I rose from my knees and kissed him passionately, letting his taste himself. "Okay, now, I need to fix my hair. And, you need to get ready."

*****
We apperated at the Riddle Manor, right on time. I walked with presence and power, despite my true feelings of dread and anxiety. The manor always brought back traumatic memories.

We entered the meeting room and sat in our allocated seats. I was next to my mother, and Mattheo was next to his father, we were opposite one another. As we waited for Voldemort so speak, I looked around the room of the house I grew up in. Black everywhere. Even though it's my favourite colour, I still hate it. There's too much, it makes the place look miserable. Well, the place is fucking miserable.

"Ah, children, I'm glad you made it." The dark lord finally spoke. Voldemort always liked me. I don't know if it was my mother, my powers or the fact I took a liking to his son. Nonetheless, he was pleasant to me, when I obeyed. I'll never forget the time I disobeyed. He let 3 of his death eaters 'have their way with me'.
"Have you been causing havoc in Hogwarts, child?" He asked me, Nagini circling my feet. "Yes, Lord." I replied quickly. My mother nudged my side and said with an evil grin, "Well, what has my little raven been up too?" I haven't told Mattheo about my murdering problem. I didn't want him to leave me. "I sent a girl to the hospital wing, and, last month killed a boy, Ethan Smith, was his name." I looked over to Mattheo who looked... concerned? Angry? Disappointed? I couldn't tell.

"Well done, child. You've done us proud." The dark lord said, gesturing to his pack of death eaters. "There is a job that needs doing. An assassination. I need one of you to kill the one they call Neville Longbottom. He has been getting quite close with Harry Potter, I need to send a message. Evelyn? Up to the task?" He said, staring daggers into my soul.
"I'll do it." I said without question.
"Excellent, don't you be getting caught, now. I wouldn't want my best killer out of service." A wicked grin was plastered over his noseless face.

Once again, I glanced over to Mattheo, hoping- praying down on my fucking knees- that his opinion of me hadn't t changed. I don't know what I'd do if it did. He didn't look back. I think, in that very moment, a bit of my heart died. He couldn't even bare to look at me.
I'm a monster. A psychopath. A murderer. A villain, just like they all said. I'm destined to be a lonely, psychotic, murderous, villainous monster until the day I fucking die. I can't help it. It was how I was brought up; kill or be killed. No in between.

****

I didn't say a word to Mattheo. He didn't say a word to me, either. I apperated to my dorm, unsurprised when Matty wasn't their either, like this morning. Honestly, I was glad. Solitude was what I needed right now. I sat on my bed and allowed a thick tear fall down my cheek. Before I knew it, thick tears transformed into hearty sobs. It was as if my brain had no control over my legs as I walked to my bookshelf, scanning the shelves for one book in particular. Once I found it, I ripped it of the shelves.

Crying hysterically now, I made my way to the bathroom, sliding down the door to my knees, once it was closed. I flicked through the pages until i got into the triple digits. Page 137. Hidden in the pages, concealed a small blade. I freed the blade form it's literature confinement and held it in a shaking hand. I dropped the concealment charm on my arms and searched for a fresh plot of skin to ruin.

3 people. 3 people i've hurt. Mattheo's trust, Belle's face and Ethan's future. I glided the blade down my arm, adding it to the collection of fresh cuts and past scars, only present to tell a story. That was for Ethan. Blood dripped down my arm. Crimson stained the bathroom tile, a small pool forming. It doesn't hurt. Not anymore. It's useless now. I feel nothing when i cut, nothing at all.

I can cut myself all I want but the guilt will never go away. It's stupid. The guilt isn't for taking a life; it's for enjoying the power, the fear, being able to hold a life in my own 2 hands. I enjoy it. I find pleasure in killing. Maybe, they're right. Maybe i'm just as psychotic as my mother.

I was about to bring the blade down onto my arm once more, for Belle, when the door flew open...

cliffhanger sorry >:)