𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐖𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬 // enemies w/ benefits (M.T.R. x Reader)

9. Bewildered Realization

accept my apology for this short chapter with the iteration of the words, "an unbelievably short chapter is better than no chapter at all😋" (this is not a request, it is a DEMAND. ACCEPT IT.)

"You've done it wrong!" I snap angrily, and only grow more furious when I realize Mattheo is enjoying my frustration with him. "The steam is supposed to be rising in characteristic spirals. Whatever you did with the pearl dust must have messed the whole thing up!"

This past hour has seen me making drastic changes to my ranking of my favorite professors at Hogwarts, with Slughorn making a deadly plummet from first place to the very bottom. Why the Potions Master thought it would be a good idea to pair me with Mattheo is beyond me, and it doesn't help that of all the potions we could have been stuck brewing, the potion we're covering in today's lesson just happens to be Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the entire world.

"I see your impatience in the bedroom shows itself beyond closed doors as well. Just wait a little, won't you?" Mattheo tells me, to which I respond by miming smacking him over the head with my hardcover copy of Advanced Potion Making. I pause when steam indeed does come rising up from our cauldron. In characteristic spirals.

So Mattheo was right. Whatever. There's a first time for everything, I suppose. I see no point in praising him for something that will never be happening again, anyway.

"Narcissus stems," I gesture for the next ingredient rapidly. "Quickly, before the potion settles."

Sighing like I'm costing him the world, Mattheo drops a handful of the minced stuff into my hands. I stir them in carefully, then wave my wand over the near-complete potion to perfect its final steps.

Fifteen minutes later, a cauldron's worth of Amortentia, sporting its signature mother-of-pearl sheen, sits simmering on the desk between us. When Professor Slughorn comes around, he awards twenty points to Slytherin and Ravenclaw each for how well our potion turned out, and even chooses our batch over the one that Potter brewed to use as the demonstration for the class. Which is quite the impressive feat, as Slughorn's blatant favoritism for the golden boy is no secret to the Sixth Years of the school.

"As Miss Granger informed us all during our first lesson together, properly brewed Amortentia is meant to smell like the thing nearest to the heart to whomever inhales its scent," Slughorn explains excitedly. "Now, you're all going to have a go at experiencing this, but I think we'll start off with today's most prized potioneers, hm?"

I knock heads with Mattheo when we lean down to smell our Amortentia at the same time. Scowling, I shove Mattheo away so that I might try it first.

Honeyed tea, served with rosemary. The very kind that my mother always adored, the kind that my father pretended to love despite hating the sharp scent of the herb. Burnt sage, filling the manor library where I would spend hours getting lost in books, with my brother and loving parents by my side.

I retreat from the cauldron feeling bittersweet and forlorn. And here I was, thinking Amortentia was just another word for a horny aphrodisiac.

Mattheo goes next. He hovers over the cauldron even longer than I did, puzzlement taking over his features before something clicks into place. His expression shifts into one of realization. Bewildered realization.

The thing nearest to one's heart... What would that be for the elusive Mattheo Riddle, then? The scent of firewhisky or burning cigarettes? Or simply the smell of lots and lots of sex? And that's only if he even has a working heart at all.

"What the hell is your problem?" I snap at him, because for the past several minutes, as the rest of the students have been lining up for their turns, all he's been doing is staring at me. "Is there something on my face, or am I going to have to hex something onto yours?"

Mattheo shakes his head fervently, seeming to force himself out of it. He gravitates closer to me, simply standing there for another twenty seconds, before hesitantly opening his mouth. "What did it smell like for you?" he asks, almost sounding nervous.

"None of your fucking business," I snap, then, rolling her eyes, "Memories from my childhood. Back when my family was whole and yours hadn't ripped through mine."

"Oh."

Admittedly, that was a little harsh, even for me.

"What about you?" I ask carefully, not wanting to come off as too brutal after that last reply. "What did you get?"

Silence lingers in the air. When it stretches on for too long, I take this to mean that Riddle is now pissed at me, meaning I'll get to enjoy at least a few hours of relaxation while he gives me the silent treatment.

Instead, Mattheo turns back to me and asks, "What are your plans for the Hogsmeade trip this weekend?"

I blink, obviously taken aback. "How is that any of your business?"

"We should go together," Mattheo suggests so matter-of-factly that one might think I already agreed to this ridiculous offer beforehand. "Grab drinks or something."

"Grab drinks or something?" I repeat. "Is that a joke?"

"What do you mean?"

I raise a hand to my face and begin massaging my temples. "Firstly, you and I don't do drinks, Mattheo. We don't do anything together in public except cursing and insulting each other. And secondly," I grit out, unable to believe that I'm having to explain this to him, "The date of this Hogsmeade visit. Don't you know what day it is?"

Mattheo blinks at me obliviously.

"It's Valentine's, you twat!" I hiss. "Do you really want to be caught walking around with me on a day like that?"

"I don't see what the big deal is," Mattheo frowns.

I groan internally, but still manage to tell him, "The answer is no. And even if it weren't you who was asking, it would still be a no. I've already gotten myself a date for the occasion."

"What?" he stares, his previously innocent tone turning sharp in a split second change. "Why? Who?"

"Stop trying to involve yourself in my personal life!"

"Who's your date?"

"How is that any of-"

"Who is it?"

I cross my arms over my chest. "I'm not telling you."

"Fine," Mattheo spits out, and is the first one out the door when Slughorn finally dismisses us for the day.

other people + jealousy = angst

mattheo + jealousy = one very miserable Hexed Harry™