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T R I G G E R
W A R N I N G
SMUT, SWEARING, ED, BLOOD, ABUSE
MATHEO RIDDLE IS YASMINE AMAROS. CALANTHA, KASSANDRA, NICCOLÒ, EPIPHANY, AND ERISED ARE MINE. ALL OTHERS UNLESS NOTED ARE JK R*WLINGS.
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IT was the light that struck me from my sleep, shining in through the window only inches above my somber head, to which was pointed downward at a sleeping Mattheo. I'd fallen asleep with my fingers in his curly brown hair, one hand draped across his then-sweaty forehead, his feeble head leaning against my chest with his back strewn against me.
I knew the chances of his falling asleep in my arms this way ever again was slim, and because of this, I chose simply not to wake him, but to instead watch him. And in watching him, never forget him; the way he looks when he is finally at peace, asleep. Never forget how different his breathing sounds when he doesn't know someone is listening to him.
His lips, and how everytime his eyebrows slightly curved downward, would twitch at the corners, but only for a moment's notice.
I liked to collect these things and store them in my memory, so that I never forgot them. I did this with my Mother, too, and only now have I grown to realize how they--the memories I've willed myself never to forget--are the small, weak, strings that I'm holding on to. I think that, for some reason, Mattheo and I will not have a happy ending.
I think, in some ways, we will ruin each other. He will tear me down and because of my hurt and my pain, I will in some way, do the same to him. Even if I hurt myself more in the process. And even if we don't ruin each other, I think even still, even if we tried hard enough to be good for one another, everything would end up broken.
And that is the reason why I watch him, listen to every little noise he makes whenever I possibly can. That is the truth behind why I trace his silhouette silently with only my eyes and why I memorize how the different parts of his body look and if ever given the chance, feel under my skin.
Because one day, those memories will be the only thing left.
But sometimes, I fall so deeply into a moment I spend with him, that I forget to entrap it.
He stirred again, turning his head to the side, murmuring small words that I couldn't understand, but tried to. Parseltongue, I thought. Of course he speaks Parseltongue, why wouldn't he?
Again, he stirred, his hand moving to my arm, squeezing it. This seemed to awake him, this was his first sense of me since he'd fallen asleep. His eyes jolted open and he sat up, bucking the bottom of my chin with the top of his head.
"Ergh," I rubbed the bottom of my face on the area he collided with, frowning as he stared at me wide-eyed, completely confused. His eyes were droopy and his skin pale.
"What happened?" he got onto his feet, staring vividly around the room. Near the corner was his shirt and he walked to it, making no intentions of being quiet. He threw it over his head, turning around from me and my eyes fell on his scar-strewn back, his shoulder blades becoming evermore defined, only parts of his muscular build being shown in the dull light of the crack in the window. He had no sense of time, just as I, and I could see his eyes drop down to the black mark on his arm before darting straight to the boarded up window behind me.
"Well, it feels like you hit my chin with your head, did you not feel that?" my eyes followed his shadow around the room as he made his way to the window, craning his neck to look out the small piece of broken wood that I'd torn with my fingers.
My fingers, I remembered as my eyes moved wisply to them, my face scrunching up in disgust at the shriveled tips, brown and coated with dry blood. My nails broken, skin peeled away; I could feel the small pieces of loose splintered wood underneath the skin that was there.
"Shit," I whispered aloud, shaking my head with a frown on my face. Mattheo turned back around, eyeing my hands.
"You'll be fine," he walked over to the door, turning back to look at me still on the floor. "Get up, wouldn't want to be late to breakfast would you?"
I scoffed, standing up. "I'm not going to breakfast, not after everything that happened last night. Do you even have the slightest bit of concern in you about how many people were hurt?" I walked past him, moving toward the door, but he grabbed my arm and stopped me.
"No, I don't," he shook his head, his piercing brown eyes peering into me. "Everyone I wish to be is taken care of," he paused, looking me up and down, his eyes staying stuck on my busted fingertips, I looked away in embarrassment. "I couldn't give a rat's ass about anyone else."
"Why are you being like this," I narrowed my eyes, staring up at him with a nasty frown.
"Be yourself, Mattheo,'" he mocked me, making me look away from him in sheer embarrassment. He wasn't wrong, though. But, when I'd told him to be himself, this was not what I was expecting. I guess it is my fault, truth be told. "Is that not what you said?" he laughed at me, making me look down at my feet. "I'm being myself, just like you told me to."
"Can you just apparate us back to Hogwarts, please, I would like to go now." I ignored his rudeness, trying not to show the sting of his words as I picked at the hem of the shirt I'd thrown over myself hours before.
"I will take us back when I'm ready to." he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and my eyes fluttered shut. I was weakened again. Was he serious? Only seconds ago he seemed to be hurrying me up to go back, and now he was acting completely different.
"Then I'll walk," My eyes snapped open and I walked past him, yanking my arm out from his hold.
"No the hell you won't," his hand slammed the door shut just as I had opened it, his arm above my head. I jumped back from the loudness of the door, worriedly looking up to him, though angry.
"I am not waiting for you to choose when you want to bring me back to Hogwarts, I will walk if I have to. Now, please, for the last time, move."
He laughed, shaking his head with bright eyes. "Over my dead fucking body will you walk, Calantha. It's the start of Winter, go take a look for your damn self and see the snow outside. You are not walking to Hogwarts by yourself, do you understand?"
"I'm afraid I don't understand, because like I said, I am not waiting for your goddamn dimwitted ego to app--,"
Deja vu was the only way to describe his hand curled around my neck. This was, as I thought it to be, the third time.
Just like last night, my back collided with the wall again and a strained whimper stayed muffled in my throat. I looked up at him with dowey eyes, ever hopeful in the implication of pure impunity from which I might have not subdued under his hold. But I knew all too well that he was angry and that I'd upset him, there was nothing less gratifying than impunification to Mattheo in this moment.
"You think because of what you saw last night that I am weak," he pulled me off of the wall, only to slam me into it again, even harder. The back of my head stung and I grew faintly dizzy, my eyes fluttered open and shut, and I struggled to fight with the streak of light casting itself upon my face.
"Perhaps I'll have to remind you, witch," he paused, seething through gritted teeth. Suddenly, though dizzy and in pain, the only thing that mattered to me was the simple word that danced off of his lips. It was upsetting, hearing it from him again after not hearing it for so long.
"Don't get it knackered in your head that because I brought you here you now have some sort of emotional compliance over me, Calantha." he grinned, shoving his tongue in the side of his cheek, momentarily shutting his eyes before opening them again.
My hands moved to his wrists as I tried to fight his hands off of my neck, beneath me my feet flailed and kicked, but he quickly pressed his body against mine, pinning me to the wall.
"Do you understand?" he commanded, raising his eyebrows. I nodded.
A playful laugh left his lips and he dipped his head back, shaking his head. "That's not good enough for me," then, with a fast, abrupt move, he turned me around, slamming me front-first into the wall.
"Do you remember, Calantha," he leaned in, nuzzling his chin into my neck, laughing into my ear. And quietly, he whispered, "The first week of school, in your dorm."
"When you broke my fucking nose?" I rustled under his grip, only for him to grab my wrists and pin them behind my back, pressing the side of my face into the wall with his hand on the back of my head.
"I really, really think you should watch what you say, Calantha," he leaned forward, whispering beside my ear.
It was as if I wasn't even in control of what I was doing. An abrupt, uncontrolled suit of laughter escaped my lips, completely surprising me. I was in shock by the things he was saying--he didn't really think I believed that he would hurt me again, did he?
"Or what, Mattheo?" I taunted, the skin on my neck almost tightening as my head was forced back, my chin going up in the air. "Are you going to break my nose again, Mattheo? Is that what you'll do?"
"If you keep talking, Calantha," he paused, sucking in a deep breath. "Then yes," he said in my ear, then pushed my head to the other side, moving to my other ear. "Yes, I will."
He turned me around and I faced him with a smile on my face, trying to show that I wasn't threatened by his words. To be honest, I wasn't sure of what to think. I knew he said he'd liked hurting me, but at the same time, he made it sound like he hated it--that he cared about me, even though those exact words never once left his lips last night, I felt like he wanted them to.
"You're bluffing," I shook my head, his hand still in my hair, pulling my head back as he looked down at me, a nasty anger-filled grin on his busted lip. He looked extremely frustrated, both physically and sexually, and I couldn't help but smile at that.
"What the fuck are you smiling about?" he shook me, scaring me into a loud shriek. The back of my head collided with the wall as he let go of my hair and brought his hand to my shoulder, pressing it into the wall. "Do you think this is funny?" he seethed.
"I think you're trying to scare me, Mattheo,"
He shook his head, smiling. "I'm only reminding you, Calantha," he tilted his chin upward, staring down at me through his long eyelashes. "I very much suggest that you listen."
"Let me go," I demanded. "Take me back to Hogwarts, Mattheo."
Suddenly, he backed away from me, letting go of me. I watched as he stood up straight, nodding his head slowly. "You want to go back to Hogwarts?" he tilted his head, raising his eyebrows. I nodded, pulling my hands behind my back as I watched him.
"Then go," he leaned forward, motioning to the door behind me. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused, waiting for him to take back what he said.
"What?"
"Go, leave. Walk back to Hogwarts, be my guest."
Moments ago he was holding me to the wall, completely over the edge about the idea of me walking back to Hogwarts alone, and now, here he was, telling me to go.
I turned around, not looking back at his silent figure as I stepped to the door. Still, he did nothing and stayed quiet. I assumed he was only watching me, but I couldn't help myself, and turned around.
Still, he was standing, his chin high in the air, his figure straight, watching me. My eyes fluttered as I blinked tiredly, waiting for him to tell me to stay. For some reason, I'd wanted nothing more than to leave, and not by myself but with him, and now that he was telling me to go, I wanted to stay.
He bobbed his head, looking to the door, assuring me that I was no longer worth putting up a fight to stay, and I turned back around.
I gripped the knob in my hand and turned it, swiftly cracking the door open.
But something seemed off. I was no longer sure if I wanted to stay or go. Mattheo was clearly upset, but I couldn't tell if he really wanted me to leave or not. I had no clue about what was going on at Hogwarts, whether or not it was safe to even go back, who was hurt.
I knew Mattheo was okay, or at least knew he would be here, but I needed to know if my friends were.
I opened the door further, taking another step toward it. Then, a hand on the back of my head, a sharp pain in my face. And after that, darkness.
+++
ERISED
It had been fifteen hours since the attack, and still there was no sign of Calantha. Kassandra, from as much as I could see, was fine as she sat almost in Niccolò's lap, shaking in fear, her bottom lip quivering.
In a far corner, my eyes landed on Epiphany, who was shaking her hands in the air at a group of crying Third year Slytherin girls, all hugging and holding each other. I focused on her as she rolled her eyes and walked away, shaking her head in irritation before sitting down on the ground beside a tall bookcase, staring into space.
Draco sat in the complete opposite corner of the room, away from everyone else. He got back earlier this morning, only a few hours after the attacks happened, and ever since he'd walked with a faint limp and talked to no one.
Mattheo was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Calantha.
Everyone able to walk was taken back to their house commons and ordered to stay until someone, a professor, came to get them. There was no knowing of where the other students, the ones laid face down on the floor, unmoving, were taken, but even in the silence of the common room, everyone was begging to ask if anyone might know anything. I think we all knew in our own fateful ways what happened to them.
I failed to spot a few recognizable faces, none of whom I'd ever spoken to, but looked at everyday in my classes, and my stomach churned. Everyone knew that the faces missing were either being taken care of in St. Mungo's or bodies being counted in the Ministry. The only problem was that when we'd failed to see a face we'd hoped to, we didn't know which to prepare ourselves for.
A door opened and every head turned to where the portrait on the wall stayed shut, multiple whispers covered the silence of the room, being the first spoken words since the hour we'd been locked in the common.
Heads turned all around, trying to find the source from which the sound came from, until eventually, I looked up near the winding stairs where Calantha stood.
It didn't take people long to notice her standing there in complete silence, only staring down at me, her face from her eyes and down covered in blood. Without hesitation, I rushed across the room and up the stairs, running to her.
She turned to me, her breathing heavy as her chest rose and fell at an excessively fast pace. Her bottom lip was quivering as she grabbed onto my arms, pulling me to her. I could feel her shaking in my arms, how her hands were trembling.
The feeling of wetness coated my neck and shirt, and I looked down at myself to see blood all over my front. "Calantha," I wrapped my arms around her, still holding her. "What happened?"
"I don't. . ." she whispered into my chest, shaking her head, stuttering and trembling. Small sobs left her lips and I turned around to see everyone watching her.
I took her under my arm and walked with her to her dorm, shutting the door behind me before turning back around to her. I took in her appearance, my eyes moving up and down her body, my mouth agape.
Her shirt was stained all down the front, a dark red tint ruined it, and I concluded it to be blood. Her hair was messy and the strands closest to her face were wet with blood, sticking to the sides of her face. Her hands, though in some areas stained red, were shaking, and her fingertips looked as though they were burned.
But her face was the hardest to look at. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the blood, which then trailed down her neck. Her bottom lip was quivering as she hiccuped, and in the corner a cut showed how her lip was busted.
Her eyes droopy and tired, with dark circles underneath them showed how tired and exhausted she was. Her nose looked broken, with blood all over it, smeared on her cheeks and lips.
"Who did this to you?"
"It doesn't m-matter," she shook her head, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Where is Mattheo?"
"I don't know where Mattheo is," I stepped toward her. "How could it not matter who--," I stopped, running a hand through my hair, taking a deep breath. "Were you here last night? Where were you?"
"Erised, I need you to l-listen to me," she calmed herself, still shaking as she walked around her dorm. She sat down on her bed and placed her hands in her hair, rocking back and forth on her feet as she mumbled to herself.
"Can I trust you?" she looked up at me with hopeful eyes and I nodded.
"I was in Hogsmeade." she placed a hand on her forehead.
"You were in Hogsmeade?" I repeated her, my eyebrows furrowed and my voice loud. "Why were you in Hogsmeade? If you weren't here, then what happened to you?"
"You have to calm down!" she stood up and grabbed my arms. "I can't tell you everything because-because I don't even know what happened. I don't know why I'm covered in blood, or if it's even mine, but I need you to tell me where Mattheo is."
"You calm down! I'm calm, I'm fine, why are you not freaking out right now? You're covered in blood and you don't even know what happened and you want to know where Mattheo is? Are you out of your damn mind?" I walked back and forth, pacing.
"Yes, that is exactly what I want to know."
I stopped and turned to her, my eyes wide. "Well, I don't know where Mattheo is, because I've been locked in that goddamn common room for the last fifteen hours, and not one person has come in or left, so how the fuck did you get inside without anyone seeing you?"
"I don't know, Erised," she brought her lips to a fine line and grew frustrated, rolling her eyes.
"Well I don't know where Mattheo is." I retorted, my voice thick with annoyance.
"Then I need to find him," she walked to her closet and threw several pairs of clothes onto her bed.
"Are you insane? You can't leave. The portrait is magically sealed. No one is getting out of here until a professor comes by and lets us out, and who's to even know when that'll be."
"Well, shit," she whispered, rolling her eyes.
"Shit is right, look at you. You're covered in blood."
"Take a look in the mirror, Erised, so are you."
"Whose blood do you think it is!" I yelled.
The door behind us swung open and shut and we turned around to see Kassandra, Niccolò, Draco, and Epiphany all standing together, staring back at us.
"What. The. Fuck." Epiphany whispered, her eyes wide and her mouth wide open. I turned to Calantha who muttered something under her breath and placed a hand on her forehead.
"What the fuck happened to you?" Kassandra stepped forward.
Calantha scoffed and turned to Kassandra, shaking her head. "Last time I checked we weren't speaking," she spit at her. "Has something changed?" she glared, then turned to Niccolo.
"Hello, Niccolò," she heavily sighed, then looked at Draco and stopped pacing. Niccolò only stared back at her, completely in shock.
"Draco," she mumbled, staring at him. The room was quiet, and he said nothing.
Suddenly, she ran to him with open arms, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. But he didn't hug her back, instead, he pushed her away.
"You're covered in blood," he grimaced, looking her up and down. She stepped away from him and looked down at herself, then tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at her feet.
"I just missed you," she told him, wrapping her arms around herself.
"You can't just run up to me like that," he spit at her, narrowing his eyes.
"Draco, calm down," Niccolò interjected. "Look at her, Draco," all eyes turned to her. "Do you not see anything wrong?"
"No, I see a girl who clearly didn't put up a good enough fight," Draco mustered, crossing his arms.
"Then you aren't looking hard enough," Niccolò responded with a shake of his head.
"I think I would like you all to leave now," Calantha spoke up, whispering as she sat down on her bed, not looking at anyone.
"Calantha," Epiphany moved toward her, but Calantha stopped her with a hand in the air.
"I would just like to be alone for right now, please. Can you all go, and let me know when we are allowed out of the commons."
"Are you sure you want to be alone?" Epiphany asked.
"Please," Calantha forced a weak smile. "I'd like to be alone."
We all nodded, each of us hesitating to say something more, but none of us did. One by one we walked past her, leaving her alone on her bed, still covered in blood, looking at the floor. I was the last one out, and as I shut the door behind me, I rested my back against the other side, watching the others follow down the stairs until they eventually disappeared into the common room.
+++
CALANTHA
I walked to the window beside my bed and opened it, peering over the wide frame, feeling the cold wisps of air sting my face. There was a thin layer of white snow covering everything as far as my eyes could see, and I couldn't help but smile at how beautiful it all looked.
And somewhere, if not here, was Mattheo.
I just hoped he was okay, wherever he was.
My first guess was that he was with his Father, probably talking about the next planned attack on Hogwarts or wherever else. I was still mad at him, though, for how he'd left me.
When I woke up in my bed, the familiar scent of vanilla filled my swollen nose and I sat up in my sheets, looking around. I quickly recognized where I was, but I was shaking. I was terrified and confused, much less in an immense amount of pain. When I'd looked in the mirror the fear and the pain only grew worse.
I could feel that my nose was broken again. When I brought my fingers to my face, it was hard to tell whether or not they were bleeding or cut because of the lack of skin left on my fingertips. But each time I talked, a sharp sting would emerge from my bottom lip, and that was enough to answer my question.
Maybe it wasn't that long ago that he'd last hurt me, but it felt like it was. Only this time it hurt a lot more than the last because this time I cared about him. It was my fault, for telling him to act as he truly wanted to and for antagonizing him. In a way, this was my fault. Or maybe I was just trying to convince myself that because I didn't want to give myself another reason to leave him.
I was too naïve to believe that he wouldn't hurt me again.
My eyes lingered on the valley of snow-covered mountains in the near distance, counting the peaks and the various different owls flying through the sky, all of which were probably carrying letters from distressed parents.
They all scattered throughout different parts of the foggy sky, disappearing behind clouds and peaks and different towers surrounding the castle. But I stayed glued to one in particular, an old owl, a dark black one, that seemed to be coming straight to my open window.
And that it had. I stepped backward, allowing room for the animal to land inside on top of my desk, a small rolled up piece of ribbon-tied parchment left it's mouth and dropped on the wooden surface.
No sooner than the owl had arrived had it flew through my window again, flying farther up into the sky before disappearing beyond the open frame of my window. I turned back to the piece of parchment rolled up on my desk and grabbed it, walking over to my bed.
There was no one that I could think of to write me a letter, not one person. Even my Father, who I'm sure had by now heard of what happened last night, wouldn't care to ask how I was doing.
My crippled hands unraveled the ribbon and tossed it onto the floor beside my feet, and I scrambled to unroll the small parchment as I held it open to read.
Calantha,
You will meet me in the Astronomy Tower tonight at six.
Mattheo
I scoffed to myself, throwing the paper onto the floor, dropping my head in my hands. He had some nerve sending me this owl, telling me that I will meet him tonight, and after leaving me here the way he did?
I kicked off my shoes and walked to my mirror, tying my hair up into a bun. There were small streaks of light red smears across my forehead, from my hands, I assumed, and on the bottom half of my face there was blood everywhere.
My bottom lip was cut near the corner, and my nose was slightly crooked, which answered my question about it being broken.
Although there was blood on my neck, I could make out the bruise of a hand, stretching from ear to ear.
My shaky hands made their way to my bruised skin and I traced the lines of Mattheo's marks, sucking in deep breaths as my eyes grew glossy. I took off my shirt, feeling the sticky fabric peel away from my dampened stomach, and let it drop from my hands as I looked at the bruises on my shoulder.
As I turned around and looked over my shoulder, eyeing my back in the mirror, I counted the several tiny spots where my strewn scars had begun to bruise, and for some, rip open.
The only thing I could think of was how gross it was. How disgusting my body looked, and how ashamed I felt about having to live under the skin that I so deeply hated.
My hands traced the thin shadows of my rib cage below my breasts, then circled the area of my stomach.
It was sickening to look at myself.
I felt wet tears stream down my sticky cheeks, stinging the corner of my lip, and I grabbed the sides of the tall mirror before taking one of my hands and balling it into a fist at my side.
And I looked straight into the mirror, deep into myself, staring into my own soul, growing even more sickened at the sight of my own soul staring back at me, and my fist collided with the glass surface of the mirror.
And I did this, again, My knuckles stung, the shards of glass cut open the parts of skin in between my knuckles and fingers, but I didn't care, because I deserved it.
With each punch my figure became more and more distorted, my face almost no longer visible, but still, I forced my fist back into the broken glass.
I only stopped when I could no longer make out the image of myself.
The mirror fell to the ground and I walked over the glass on the floor, into the bathroom across from Kassandra's bed.
I looked down at my hand, my fingers covered in blood, my knuckles red and burning, feeling as if they were on fire. The skin on the back of my hand was raw, and as I picked out the small pieces of glass, I reminded myself that the pain was my own doing. That I deserved everything I felt, every mark that I was displaying.
My body was a canvas and the portrait displayed upon it was well worth looking at only if I made it what I wanted it to be, and right now, it was everything but it.
I was the piece of artwork placed upon all others, watching the others in the gallery be bought and sold, observed, gawked at, smiled at, while people walked by me, choosing to voice their opinions in their head in fear that the artist may be around to hear what they had to say.
Because among the many things they had to say, or perhaps the only thing they had to say, that my displays are not understandable nor beautiful, was the very thing that no artist wanted to hear.
And so I stared at the shards of glass in the open toilet, watching the droplets from my bloodied hand caress the water, mixing with it, until eventually it flooded red.
I ignored the pain and brought my disfigured hand up to my mouth, feeling my wet fingertips on my lips. The taste of iron quickly coated my tongue and my fingers tasted like metal, but I didn't let it stop me.
I knew it would be harder this time, it would be more painful because I hadn't eaten barely any food in more than a day, but I think, for whatever reason, the pain that came with doing this, was much needed.
So I took a deep breath and shut my eyes, praying that it wouldn't take too long.
+++
Hours Later
CALANTHA
Three subtle knocks tore me from my light sleep and before my eyes even opened I could feel the cold surface of the porcelain bathroom floor on my cheek. I sat up, getting to my knees, gripping the corner of the counter to help pull myself onto my feet.
I was weak, both physically and emotionally, and stumbled walking to the door, gripping the posts of Kassandra's bed and the end of my desk for stability before reaching the door, opening it just a crack to peer through.
"Calantha," Epiphany gleamed, standing up on her tippy toes, bringing her face closer to the door. "I'm sorry if I woke you, but I just wanted to let you know that we're allowed out of the commons now, well, nobody is actually leaving, everyone is in their dorms now. I still haven't seen Mattheo, er, I expect he's with Father right now, but you never quite know with him. Are you feeling alright? You still have blood all over your face."
"I'm okay, Epiphany, I was only resting. Thank you for letting me know."
She nodded, staring at me with a wide smile on her face. "Er, are you alright? Do you plan on coming out of your dorm tonight?"
"Yes, yes I'm fine. And no, I don't really plan on doing much tonight, other than stopping by the library to fetch some books. Is there any news about any of the other missing students?"
"No, the professors have told us nothing. I suppose there will be some kind of grand announcement tomorrow when we're all mandated to the Great Hall, but who's to say they'll even tell us anything." she shrugged. "Well, I'll leave you to yourself then. Also, do you happen to know where Petunia Everardy's dorm is?"
I narrowed my eyes. "She's a second year, so it should be down the hall from yours. Why do you ask?"
"Well," she sighed, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. "She was telling lies about me and how when I grow older I'm going to lose my nose just as my Father. I dunno where she even found out about my being his daughter, but, nonetheless I can't have her thinking she can go around telling lies."
"So, what do you plan on doing then?"
"She'll have a pretty little mark for the rest of her life that will remind her what happens when she lies. Now, I must go, have a good night."
And she turned, skipping down the hall with her hair swaying side to side behind her, not looking back at me as she turned and strutted down the stairs, playfully singing out Petunia's name.
I shut the door and turned behind me, eyeing the clock floating on the wall. It was almost six, which meant that I needed to get to the Astronomy Tower. I didn't even know why I was going to meet him, but the immense stupidity I got from giving in to his commands was gradually knackering it's way into my brain.
I had no time to change my clothes or wipe the blood off of my face and arms. I couldn't imagine anyone being in the corridors around this time, not after what happened, and so I was not worried about anyone seeing me like this.
I left my dorm and quietly stepped out of the commons, quickening my pace as I made my way through the dark corridors, only lit by floating candles rimming the ceiling. I passed the library, feeling bad for having lied to Epiphany about it, but continued on my way to the Astronomy Tower.
It didn't take long for me to get there, even though it was on the opposite side of the castle, and I was glad for it, because I didn't want to start off in an argument with being late.
I stayed at the bottom of the stone steps, already feeling the cold air against my skin, wiping my bloodied hands on the white t-shirt I now wore. I wondered what I looked like. There was still blood all over my face and neck from whatever happened between Mattheo and I, my knuckles were busted, there was blood all over my shirt. I felt stupid showing up like this.
I took in a deep breath that I told myself I'd be holding onto for a while. I was scared to walk up the stairs, afraid to face him. I was scared of the unknown, the period of time from when I thought I was allowed to leave that rickety room above the Three Broomsticks to when I woke up and fell into Erised's arms. He could have done anything to me, taken me anywhere, and I wouldn't have known about any of it.
But I knew that this was the only way to find out, and I reminded myself of that each step up I took, the next being even closer to the top. I made sure to stay quiet, to keep a slow pace so not to seem as though I was rushing to see him, even though I truthfully was.
I saw him leaning on the edge of the tower, looking down at whatever was below. He had the same white shirt on, only now I could see that the front was covered in blood. His hair was messy, just as it had been this morning when he'd woken up in my arms. Nothing about him changed from my view on the top of the stairs.
I didn't know what to say to make it known that I was here. Anything that came out of my mouth would sound stupid with how I was foolishly standing behind him, wanting him to turn around and look at me.
"Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand there?"
Of course he knew I was here. I must not have been as silent as I thought I was.
"Why am I here?" I stepped toward him, though not daring to go any closer. I looked around the empty circle of the tower and felt the breeze from the open spaces of the wall hit every part of my uncovered skin. It smelled fresh, all except for the blood I walked around in.
"I knew you would have questions," he turned around, trying not to look confused at my appearance. "What's happened to you? I didn't leave you in your bed with that much blood."
"Why me?" I ignored his question. He was right, I had questions, many more than what happened after everything went black and why he'd left me with a broken nose in my dorm. I've had many questions from the start, and because of my state, because I felt like I had absolutely nothing more to lose, I was going to ask the most important ones.
"What?"
"Why me?" I repeated, my voice quiet. My arms dangled loosely at my sides and stared off into the distance behind him, smiling at the sight of the snow.
"I don't think I understand what you're asking me."
"I think you understand clear enough what I'm asking you, Mattheo," my eyes snapped back to him, and I sighed. "I know you are not stupid, and I know you've continuously bothered yourself with when I would ask you. And here I am."
"Here you are." he shook his head. "Standing in front of me, even after everything that's happened."
"Why. Me." I said again.
"You won't be getting an answer, so I suggest you stop wasting your time." he turned back around.
"You know I really actually thought that you cared about me," I admitted, shaking my head at myself. I walked to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall, watching Mattheo do nothing.
"Like, I really genuinely made myself believe that you cared. I would tell myself that you didn't because of the way you would treat me and because of our past, but then I would be with you and I'd tell myself that I was a fool for doubting you."
"And then you would do something to fuck everything up and then you would come back, or I would just pray that you would, and when you did, I would let you in. Every time." I said matter of factly.
"But then there was last night at the Three Broomsticks, when I told you to be yourself. And for once, I think you actually listened to me. I think you knew how I would react and I think that you wanted me to say what I did, because you know me. And I know that I told you that you didn't, but you do." I paused, once again wiping my hands on my shirt. "And you knew that I would feel bad and that I would tell you to be yourself because you know that I can't stand pretending to be something that I'm not, even though you've never admitted to me that you know it, and because of that you knew I wouldn't want you to have to do the same thing.
"Because you know that I care about you. You're smart enough to realize that."
"But you don't hurt people that you care about. At least not purposefully. And you don't enjoy doing it either, like you said you did."
"You don't know how I show my compassion nor my transgression,"
"I don't know anything about you, Mattheo," I concluded.
"For years, you have belittled and tormented me, and I've done nothing about it because there is nothing that I can do but to sit down and take it. And then it just stopped. And then we kissed, and then after that," I laughed, nodding off. "I don't even know what happened after that."
"I just want to know why," I pleaded.
"Why what, Calantha?" he slammed his hands down on the stone.
"Why you took such an interest in me, and if it's true, why you treat me like this. And if it's not true, if all of this has been fake, then why have you kept it going."
"This is not fake," he bowed his head, his back still turned to me.
"Then why do you act like this? Because sometimes it feels like I can be so happy around you," I sounded hopeful, as if I was remembering an old memory. "Like I can go to you for anything, like I did the first night I fell asleep with you."
"Or how you took care of me after what happened with Pansy at the party." my voice shook as I said her name. "But then there's other times, like last night."
"I took you back to Hogwarts, just like you asked me to, did I not?"
"You left me, bleeding and alone!" I yelled, pushing myself off of the wall, taking long strides toward him. I was angry now, with his lack of attention, how it felt like everything I was saying to him was nothing to him.
"I woke up terrified, and the only thing," I took heavy breaths in and out. "The only thing I wanted was you."
"And even after I took a moment to sit and fucking process what had happened and eventually realized what you did, I still wanted you there."
"So if you cannot answer for yourself, then answer for me, because I am begging you, and I cannot take this anymore, Mattheo, and I need to know, why me?"
He said nothing.
"Why couldn't you just have left me alone?" I spit at him, the anger laced in my voice. I was growing impatient with his lack of response. I watched from afar as he clenched his jaw, turning around to stare at me as his eyes darkened, walking up to me, soon towering over me as he took big steps forward.
"Because," he tilted his head, walking me back up against the stone wall, my back slamming against it, sending a sort of shock down my spine. "You were the only girl that didn't beg on her fucking knees for me," he leaned closer, grabbing my arms, his breath fanning my face, his curly hair brushing against my forehead.
Suddenly his hand pounced to my neck, tightling grabbing at it, causing me to let out a loud gasp as the feeling of his grip on top of the bruise he'd left only hours before resurfaced in me. I brought both of my hands to cover his, but he was much stronger than me, and I'd known this.
I noticed a wicked grin crawl onto his face as he leaned in closer to me, his lip brushing against my ear, feeling him smirk.
"And it fucking infuriates me."
"And yet, here you are, having had me, and so easily you let it all slip away?" I taunted, seething through my gritted teeth. Deep down I was terrified, scared that this would push him over the edge and he'd finally stop taking an interest in me. I didn't want him to go, even after everything that happened, even after the situation I was in right now, I didn't want him to leave me.
"What are you going to do? Are you going to leave another bruise?" I shook my head, still trying to pry his hands off of my neck. "I don't care anymore, Mattheo."
"You know that I'll stay, you know that no matter what you do I'll let you back in, and that's my weakness." I heavily breathed in and out, heaving as I tried to suffice as much air as I could with his hands still gripping my throat. "But I'm done, I can't anymore," I smiled painfully, looking up at him as his eyes tore deeply into mine, a sudden warmth flooding my body. "You can't keep hurting me."
"That's pathetic."
"I can't tell if you're trying to make me believe that or yourself."
"It's sad, really," he squeezed harder, pushing me harder into the wall. I felt the cold stone against the back of my neck, and I looked past him at the mountains in the near distance, all covered with snow. I felt my mother, then, all around me. "That you can't even accept the one person who might care about you, instead, you treat them like a fool."
For some reason I felt like she was here. She was the snow protecting the mountains and the sky hugging all of Hogwarts. She was the frozen air that whipped my face every time I said something stupid to Mattheo, but she was also the small fragment of fight that I had left.
"Look at yourself," I seethed, struggling to breathe, but he loosened his grip, wanting for me to be able to talk. "This is not what you do to someone you care about. You're a damn fool if you believe yourself when you try and convince that mind of yours that this is how you show affection."
"Fuck you," he spit, shaking his head. "You know nothing about what goes on inside of my head."
"You don't have to be like this, Mattheo," I softened my grip on his hands, almost holding them. "You don't have to be cruel and vile."
"Be quiet," he pushed off of me, turning his back to me, running a hand through his hair, breathing heavily up and down. "Be quiet, because you have no idea what--"
He paused, shaking his head to himself. He turned back to me, and I cowered down while my eyes dropped to the floor, but quickly he walked to me, grabbing onto my arms.
"What're you--,"
"Apparate."
+++
I opened my eyes and looked around. My eyes first landed on the broken glass near the bathroom door, then to the distorted mirror beside it, then to the bloody shirt in front of the closet. I turned my head to the direction of the open bathroom door and spotted the blood smeared on the ground and the droplets that dried on the toilet.
I was in my dorm room, and in front of me, so was Mattheo.
"Why did you bring us here," I looked at him, watching as he walked around, pacing.
He said nothing and continued to walk back and forth, making me grow anxious.
"Mattheo, why are we here?"
"Stop talking," he snapped, shaking his head. "I can't think straight. I needed to be somewhere else,"
"So you brought us here? Everyone is going to hear us yell, take us back, now,"
"I said stop talking!" he stopped pacing and shouted at me. "Fuck," he whispered to himself under his breath, turning away from me. He bent over my cluttered desk and leaned forward as he placed his hands flat above the scattered papers.
"I can't think straight," he mumbled again, bowing his head. "I can never think straight."
"What's wrong?"
"You." he lowly laughed. "It's you. It's been you since the beginning of the year."
"I don't understand, Mattheo,"
Then, he sighed, bowing his head down more, looking over to the corner of the room where my open window hit against it's frame. His head moved then, and he stood up straight, looking at me and then pointing to the shattered glass on the ground.
"What is that?" he questioned, asking me in a demanding tone, although I could hear his hidden worry beneath his words, snaking its way through to his surface, eventually becoming more evident as I grew quiet and his eyes fluttered back and forth between the droplets of blood next to the glass and my face.
"It's nothing," I muttered, looking away from him, turning around to close the window bringing cold air into my dorm. I tucked my hand in front of me and held it in my other, trying not to wince as the pressure of my other palm held my knuckles. "The mirror fell, I cut my foot."
"You're lying," he whispered, still staring at the glass.
"I'm not lying," I shook my head, avoiding his gaze. "And besides, some of that blood is probably from my nose."
"Then there would be blood near your bed where I left you, not just in this one spot."
"I cut my foot on the mirror."
"You hit the mirror."
"I did no such thing."
"Then show me the hand you're covering."
"Why won't you just believe me?" I whimpered, batting my eyelashes as I grew more tired.
"Why won't you just go on and prove yourself by showing me your hand, Calantha?" he argued back, his tone ascending. He walked toward me, dipping his head. I stayed quiet. "You won't because you know I'm right, and there's no more use in lying straight to my face. Don't take me as a fool, Calantha, I know when you're lying."
I laughed. "Bullshit you know when I'm lying."
"If looks could kill I'd have been dead once I turned around and met your gaze in the Astronomy Tower, and the moment I asked about the glass you couldn't even so much as look my way. You still can't."
He grabbed my hand in a fast move, taking me by surprise, and I let out a loud yelp as he tightly held my disfigured hand in his. His eyes observed the cuts and deep lacerations all across the back of my hand and I watched as his face was taken over by disgust.
"How could you do this to yourself?" he said without looking up at me.
"Because I hate myself, and because I deserved it." I wanted to say. "Because I hate how much I care about you and how much I want you. Because I hate you, but at the same time I can't help but constantly want to be around you, even though this is the only time I'm ever going to admit that to myself. Because I know how much you don't care for me, and I only believe that because I refuse to accept the idea that you do. Because I'm afraid, and no matter what, you will always win. I will always be yours, no matter how you treat me, nor how you speak to me, nor what you do to me." I wanted to say.
"I was mad," I told him, only partially telling the truth. "I just lost control, I'm fine now."
I looked at him and watched as his deep brown eyes fought to stay open. His face was calm and relaxed, but he was searching through my eyes for something.
"Don't act like you care, Mattheo," I yanked my hand away from him. "Not after what just happened."
"Are we really going to go back to this?" he nodded off, laughing.
"Yes, Mattheo, we are going to talk about this, because everytime you've asked me for a chance I give it to you and all you ever fucking do is find some way to hurt me even more!" I yelled.
"I am sick and tired of whatever game it is you're playing, and I don't want to do it anymore, not if it's going to be like this. I want to be with you, and I want so badly for you to want me, but I'm so confused and I don't even know what to think. I don't know if you really care about me, or if you're toying with me, or what you're doing.
"But I know that I care about you. And I don't know why, I don't understand why I still want you to come back every time you've hurt me. I can't explain it."
"I am not playing any games with you, Calantha!" he yelled, getting in my face.
"Have I not made myself clear by asking you for another chance?"
"No, you have not, because once again, all you did with it was hurt me."
I stepped toward him and pushed him back using all of my strength, causing him to stumble backward, but he quickly caught himself. He looked at me and grabbed me, throwing me onto the bed.
He towered over me, his nose brushing against mine as he leaned down closer to my face. "Don't you ever fucking put your hands on me again," he whispered coldly, letting it sink in. He paused and looked at me, clenching his jaw. "You should clean yourself up."
And then he got up and walked out of the dorm.
+++
Soft knocks on the door woke me from my sleep and I sat up in Kassandra's bed where I'd fallen asleep. Mine was covered in blood, and I hadn't had the time to clean my sheets.
More knocks, still soft, and I wondered who it would be as my eyes darted to the clock. 4:27 in the morning. "I'm coming," I mumbled, stumbling to get to my feet, rubbing my eyes as I walked to the door.
I opened it and squinted through the darkness, staring at Mattheo. He had on an old shirt with small rips in the collar and along the hem, and sweatpants. His hair was messy, as it seemed to have been for the past day and a half, and I could smell the alcohol coming from him.
"What are you doing, Mattheo?" I groaned, swinging my arms at my sides. "Listen, if you've come to argue again, can it wait five more hours? It's four in the morning."
"I yelled at you," he shook his head. My gaze dropped down to his hand holding a half-full bottle of fire-whiskey at his side as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "I did it again." he stuttered, continuing to shake his head.
"Mattheo, you're drunk," I grabbed his wrist and pulled him into my dorm, peering my head out into the dark hall to make sure no one saw him. "What are you doing? Why have you come here?" I shut the door, turning back around to see him staring confusedly at my bloody sheets.
"What happened?" he turned to me, bringing the bottle to his lips.
I took a step toward him and snatched the bottle from his hands, glaring at him. "You broke my nose and then left me bleeding in my bed." I took a deep breath and dipped my head back, pouring the warm liquid down my throat. "Forgotten already?"
"What're you doing with that?" he stumbled toward me, reaching for the bottle, but I took a step backward. "Give it back," he began to fan himself, scrunching up his nose as he looked around the room. "Is it hot in here?" he shook his head. "It's really hot in here." his eyes widened and he sat down on Kassandra's unmade bed, taking his shirt off. "I'm hot." he whispered.
"If I'm going to have to deal with you tonight I'm not going to do it sober." I shook my head, taking another drink of Fire Whiskey. He rolled his eyes at me, shaking his hands in the air as he laid back on the bed.
"Well, I'm not even tired."
"Nobody asked if you were tired. I was sleeping there," I nodded to him. "You'll need to sleep somewhere else."
"Now I'm sleeping here." he raised his bare arms above his head and clasped his hands behind his neck, raising his eyebrows. I watched his teeth pull on his bottom lip as he stared at me and felt my chest grow heavy, but I only held our gaze.
"You just said you weren't tired."
He stood up, frowning, seeming to not be able to stay still. "It's four in the morning, Calantha, how do you have the energy to be this difficult?" he scratched his head.
I took another drink.
And another.
And another.
+++
"S-so you're telling me that you did so bad that you had to repeat some of your Sixth year classes?" I fluttered my eyes open and shut, stuttering while Mattheo watched me try to speak.
He laughed and so did I, watching him take another drink of the almost-empty bottle of Fire Whiskey.
"You're so pretty," he said.
"You're only saying that because you're drunk." I raised my eyebrows, looking around the room.
He shook his head and tried to bring his hand to my face, but I leaned backward, pushing his hand away. "Don't," I whispered, looking away. "My face is all fucked up right now," I laughed, embarrassed. "Look at me," I laughed again, rubbing my palms on my thighs.
"I think you l-look kind of cool," he shrugged, moving closer to me.
I could feel the alcohol flooding my brain, my senses, my thoughts. Kiss him. It was telling me. Strip him. It said. Let him do what he wants to you.
"Mattheo," I looked up at him, watching as he fixed himself on his knees. He looked down on me, tension filling the empty space between us on the bed. "Do you ever think about," I paused, looking down at my lap, playing with my fingers. "Do you ever think about--,"
"Yes," he cut me off, making my eyes snap back up to him. He was grinning, looking at me with temptation filled eyes. He was growing impatient.
I brought my hand to his bare chest and drew circles around the cuts and bruises lining his abdomen, all the while staring dowey-eyed at him. The room was pitch black for all but a candle in the near corner, flickering as it cast a dreary shadow across the wall opposite from us.
His fingers dangled loosely at his sides, twitching as he began to pick at the hem of my shirt. "Do you understand what you're doing right now?" he whispered, moving my hair behind my shoulders.
I nodded.
And then he kissed me, lifting me up onto his lap, my fingers in his hair. It hurt, the way his lips were moving against my swollen bottom lip, cut just on the corner, but I didn't care. This felt good, it was wrong, but good.
But it wasn't good enough, because I wanted more.
I wanted to feel him, all of him, hear him breathing in my ear, watch him lose control.
"Theo," I said into his lips, pulling away from him. Our foreheads rested against one another's and he stared me deeply in the eye.
"Calantha," he shook his head, looking away.
"Please," I begged, almost whimpering.
He looked at me and smiled, saying nothing.
Again, I pleaded. "I can't do this anymore," I whispered. "Please,"
"I like hearing you beg," he smirked, tilting his head, lifting me off of him, crawling over me as I laid on my back. He held himself up with his arms on both sides of me, looking down on me, grinning.
"Mattheo," I tried to pull him closer.
"Tell me what you want, Calantha," he whispered in my ear, drawing lines up and down my stomach underneath my shirt.
My eyes fluttered shut and I breathed deeply, feeling him tower over me. "Fuck me."
He dipped his head down and began to leave wet kisses all down my neck, trailing down my collarbone. I took my shirt off, throwing it to the side. He looked at me, his eyes lingering on my stomach.
"The things I want to do to you, Calantha," he shook his head, running his hands all along my chest, kissing my stomach, going lower and lower.
His fingers moved to the pants I was wearing and his eyes met mine. His brown eyes stayed glue to my face as he slowly pulled my pants down my legs, leaving me in my underwear. He was so intimidating, the way he was looking at me, even how he touched me.
His kisses moved past my stomach and onto my thighs, my eyes fluttered shut and a small moan escaped me lips. I was completely on edge, ready to do anything, and all for him.
His hands ran all along up and down my stomach, my breasts, and my neck, all the while kissing closer and closer to the hem of my underwear. He was taking his time with me, but I could tell he was eager, and so was I.
But he stopped and brought his parted lips back up to my face, kissing my lips once more before he pulled away. "I need to know that you want this," he said, his voice tired and raspy. I nodded.
"I need to hear you say it," he breathed heavily. "Nodding isn't a yes."
"I want this," I kissed him, first on the lips and then on the shoulder.
He kissed me again, running his hands through my hair, but his fingers were playing with the hem of my underwear, teasing as he gently ran his fingers up and down along my clit outside of my underwear, surprising me. I gasped quietly, moaning into his lips, feeling him smirk.
I lifted my waist and shut my eyes as he lowered himself, using his fingers to pull my underwear down my legs, throwing them on the floor beside the bed.
He got on his high knees and stared down at me, blank-faced. His hands moved to his pants and he took off his sweatpants, revealing his erection. Goosebumps appeared all over my body, making me go numb and I stared him in the eye.
God, it was big.
I wanted him so badly.
He held himself over me again, using one hand to tease my entrance with his tip, making me spread my legs, wanting more.
My mouth was open, my chin tilted upward. And then I felt him enter me, all the way, filling me up inside. A loud gasp left my mouth and quickly, he clapped his hand over my parted lips, smiling.
"I haven't even started and you can't control yourself," he whispered in my ear.
"Fuck me," I kissed his neck, wrapping my arms around him, feeling the scars cover his back. He began thrusting in and out of me, slowly, watching as I tried to control myself.
He dipped his head in between my neck and his soft curls brushed against my temple. His heavy pants filled my ear and his breath fanned my cheek while he started to thrust in and out of me faster.
"You're mine," he panted. "Only mine." he whispered.
"I'm yours," my mouth hung agape. It felt so good, and I couldn't keep quiet; moans and whimpers escaped my parted lips. "Fuck," I whispered.
"You feel so good," he thrusted faster, making my legs shake. He placed his hand above my head against the wall for support, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. The pleasure was something I'd never felt before, it was different with him.
"Mattheo," I moaned loudly, not being able to suppress my screams. "Mattheo," I moaned again, feeling my eyes roll to the back of my head. My legs were shaking uncontrollably, my body shuddering underneath him.
"I want everyone to know how good I make you feel, Calantha," his raspy voice said in between thrusts, all the while he panted.
A knot formed in my stomach and I could tell I was reaching my climax soon. But I didn't want this to end, I didn't want this to stop.
"Good girl," he looked at me, and I focused on his unique look. His entire face flustered, his cheeks blushed with faint, light brown freckles on the bridge of his nose. His mouth was open, his lips parted, and uncontrolled, heavy breaths left them.
"I'm gonna come," I almost cried, pulling him closer to me, wrapping my legs around his torso. His body was so warm, there was no space between us, and I craved this feeling.
His thrusts grew sloppy and uneven, he wasn't getting tired, and soon he would finish. The knot in my stomach bubbled up in my throat, my legs still shook, and I couldn't control myself. Loud moans left my lips and I bucked my hips against him to get all of him inside of me.
I felt his dick twitch and quickly he pulled out, flopping onto the bed beside me. The only sound that came next was our heavy, uncontrolled breathing.
I was sweating, but I didn't care. I felt amazing.
I ran a hand through my hair and pulled the sheet over me, covering my body.
Mattheo got up and pulled his sweatpants back on, looking at me. Was he going to leave? He looked like he was, but maybe he was only getting his pants.
The candle flickered and I watched as he looked around the darkened room then back to me, crawling back onto the bed next to me, pulling the covers over the both of us.
"You're not leaving?" I whispered.
"I'm not leaving," he whispered back.
+++