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

10. Game On

It was on our first week back from the winter holidays that Harry Potter sort of blurted out the question while working on a Transfiguration project with me. I agreed to the golden boy's offer of a Hogsmeade date, because why not? Potter is sweet in an awkward sort of way, and it wan't like I had anything better to do on Valentine's Day.

Emphasis on the awkward bit, as was seen when Potter apologized to a chair he bumped into on his way out of class. I thought it endearing back then, but now, as I stand waiting in the cold for a date that is a quarter hour later, I think the whole ordeal rather pathetic of him. Though that is nowhere near as pathetic as my own situation at the moment: Getting stood up by the likes of the Chosen One, who is a stupid Gryffindor at that. Just who does Potter think he is, anyway?

Stuck in a foul mood, I give up on waiting and start making my way to the Three Broomsticks. Hopefully, I'll be able to purchase several firewhiskeys, and see how many of them I can get down in one go.

It's when I turn the corner leading up to the pub that I spot the commotion up ahead: In the middle of the town square, several Hogwarts students, as well as a few residents of the village, have gathered to witness the sight of the Chosen One puking up slugs.

Is this why Potter didn't show up to our date? Godric, this is even worse than I imagined. Exactly what kind of a nemesis must my ex-potential future boyfriend have, to have ended up in such a humiliating situation?

My eyes narrow at the sight of a familiar head of curly hair poking out from behind a nearby alley. Maybe it's just my imagination, but Riddle looks an awful lot to be smiling to himself with the air of someone who just cast a slug-puking charm on a fellow student.

"What is your problem?" I march over to him and snap. "I thought we'd gotten past the stage of ruining each other's lives! What's got you so intent on mucking up my day like this?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Mattheo tells me innocently.

Groaning loudly, I turn on my heels and march away. Revenge will come, but it will have to come at a later time. I know from personal experience that casting hexes in such emotional states never ends well.

Fucking Merlin. I am so sick of Riddle and his antics. Just when I thought things were finally getting civil between us.

"Rosier, wait!" Mattheo comes chasing after me.

For some bizarre reason unknown to me, I actually do stop, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt and a chance to explain himself to me.

And of course, Riddle doesn't disappoint. Instead of offering me an apology, all the bastard does is stick his hands in his pockets and say, "Oh, come on. You can't actually be mad at me for this. This whole scene is priceless, they're going to have Potter's slimy face up all over the front pages."

"You'd better hope so, because I have it on good word that your body dangling over the slug pit might just give Potter's picture a run for its money," I snarl, holding up my wand in a threatening gesture. Then I swear loudly, shove my wand back into my pocket, and shout, "Why can't you just let me live my life in peace? What did you ruin my date for?"

"He's not good enough for you," Mattheo replies unabashedly. "He wouldn't know how to treat you right."

"Oh, and who would? You?" I laugh.

I get that smile wiped straight off my face when Mattheo returns solemnly, "Exactly."

I stare at him for a good five seconds before asking him a genuine question. "Are you feeling alright, Mattheo? Has anyone aside from myself tried to poison you these past twelve hours?"

"We should go out together," he states , giving me a painfully clear answer to what I've just asked.

"Right," I grimace. "I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing. Something's clearly not right with your head."

"We should! Date, I mean," Mattheo insists. "And we should make it exclusive, too. So that rodents like Potter can't try to worm their way in between-"

"Between what, Riddle?" I hiss, worried now that someone will hear him. "Between us? There is no us!"

"Well, there should be," he huffs. "Quit acting like this is a one-sided thing. I know you don't like seeing me with other people, too."

"What?" I splutter. "I- That's not- Don't be ridiculous!"

"Stubborn as ever, I see," Mattheo gives a defeated sort of sigh. "Are you really going to make me have to prove this to you?"

"There's nothing to prove!"

"Fine," he snaps. "Game on, Rosier. Feel free to come begging at any time, though you'll have to put in some extra effort to convince me your apology will be worth accepting."

And on that ominous note, Mattheo Apparates to a long distance up the road, not bothering to look back once on the entire march up to the castle.

i swear i'm gonna start coming up with longer chapters just as soon as i get out of my tomarry ao3 era (which, from the look of things, is probably gonna be never)

mkay but i promise, the next chapter WILL be longer than this one!!! (and just gimme time for Lunacy, like i already do have the entire rest of the book planned out fully, but, like, it's not my fault i'm too distracted at the moment to get to work on it as i should(also, we've neared the end of that fic and i'm just holding off on writing the ending for as long as i possibly can))