Messy love | Matheo Riddle

7

CHAPTER7

TW : D$UGS , SC#RS , DRU(K

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CHAPTER 7- Lorenzo Berkshire. 

"And I suppose I love my scars because they have stayed with me longer than most people have" - Nikita Gill.

AUTHORS POV

[The past - A fragment of Feyre's traumatic memories]

 The Great Hall was adorned with the bright glow of floating candles, casting a soft ambiance over the tables laden with magical delights. Students laughed and chattered, the air buzzing with excitement. Feyre half-opened eyes, gazed at all the other students, being so lively, so happy- something she didn't have. 

 Her boyfriend, Draco Malfoy sat beside her, a Icey cold far veiling the possessive glint in his eyes. The threads of their relationship had tightened, each tug of Draco's' leaving Feyre restricted in a web of Draco's manipulative schemes.

Lorenzo Berkshire, Feyre's best friend, entered the Great Hall with a buoyant smile, his bright  hazel eyes seeking hers. Her dead eyes for a second turned bright. Despite sitting next to her abuser, she found herself happy with the sight of her best friend seeking for her. 

That glint of happiness did not last for very long as the warmth in Feyre's gaze turned to ice as Draco's hand clamped possessively around her thigh.

"Why is he smiling at you with his pathetic face" Draco sneered, his tone laced with the intention to hurt him as he pointed at Lorenzo. Feyre hesitated, torn between loyalty to her friend and the fear of Draco's wrath.

She looked down her thighs. "We have been friends, for 11 years" she replied cautiously, the words catching in her throat.

Draco's silver eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on her thigh "That pathetic friendship ends now, Understood?"

Feyre's heart sank, the weight of Draco's command pressing down on her. She glanced at Lorenzo, who had sensed the tension but remained oblivious to the storm brewing within Feyre. He knew very well about Draco's torment to Feyre. He was aware of everything. He was also aware that if he were to talk to her, Draco would very much end him, and her. 

For the sake of that, he tried not to stir problems.

As days passed, Feyre distanced herself from Lorenzo, immensely,  the threads of their friendship loosening. During class, especially potions-their favorite subject,  she could feel Lorenzo's puzzled gaze, a silent plea echoing in his eyes, but she dared not defy Draco's wishes.

One evening,  , Draco summoned Feyre to an abandoned corridor, away from prying eyes. The air thickened with tension as he confronted her.

"You're talking to that Berkshire again?" Draco's voice was a low growl, a prelude to the storm that would follow.

"I... I did what you asked. I stopped talking to Lorenzo,, weeks ago" Feyre stammered, her eyes avoiding his penetrating gaze.

Draco's face contorted with a cruel smile. "Did you think that would be enough? I meant to cut him off." He came closer to her face, his minty breath prying on her face, "Don't you know Azura, I don't like sharing."

The first blow struck Feyre like a lightning bolt, the pain radiating through her body. She crumpled to the cold floor, Draco's anger manifesting in physical brutality. The echoes of Lorenzo's name lingered in the air, a forbidden memory that fueled Draco's rage.