May Death Do Us Part | RB ✔︎

FOUR ☆ BLACK

Her soft skin presses against mine, my head nestling against the back of her neck. He black hair falls loosely to the side, exposing the hickeys I'd left on her the night before.

My legs thread through hers and I trace the shape of the red snake inked into her spine, ghosting my fingers over the tattooed flowers. Goosebumps shoot up her skin and she hums, reaching back to grab my hand and pull me closer to her.

My chest presses to her back as she drops my hand to her waist. I slip my other arm under her head, pulling her back against me. I press my lips to her head, trailing my fingers up her side.

Her skin is silky smooth to the touch, warm beneath the blankets that lay over our naked bodies. We're cuddled up in Grimmauld Place, my parents away on vacation, leaving her and I to have the house to ourselves.

She takes my arm gently, pulling it in front of her as she aimlessly traces the dark mark.

"We should get a matching tattoo." She says, her fingers feathering against the scars surrounding the mark. "Stars. As a remembrance to the mission we've given ourselves and the way the two of us learned to work side by side."

"Deal." I tell her, pressing my lips to her bare shoulder.

"We need to move, Reg." She whispers, her voice calm but nervous. "The Dark Lord is growing restless without the mission updates."

I nod against her. "I know, I know. I'm just... I'm not ready to risk losing what we have."

She spins onto her back, dropping my hand to her stomach as her hands cup my face. My eyes flutter shut at her touch, finding comfort in the smallest gestures. Her lips press to mine, fitting like puzzle pieces before she pulls away.

I watch her mouth as she speaks, mesmerized by the movement.

"Like I said, forever. If we go down, then we do it side by side." She says softly, pushing the curls away from my face. "Together."

I sit up with a gasp, sweat beading along the line of my hair. Darkness still lingers in the enchanted ceiling, stars twinkling above.

It's been a week since I visited home. A week since I've made any progress towards figuring out who this mystery girl is.

I push myself off of the bed, getting to my feet. I tug gray sweatpants up my thighs and pull my Slytherin hoodie over my head. It's got the number of my quidditch position on the back, along with my last name.

My throat is scratchy, likely from screaming at night. I had to place a silencing charm over my bunk after Blaise woke me up on the third night back at Hogwarts. Just because I was losing sleep because of my nightmares didn't mean the rest of Slytherin house had to.

I make my way down the stairs to the common room, confusion washing over me as I spot Mona sitting on the sofa yet again. I scoff, rolling my eyes as I make my way to the counter, the house elf--who now knows the routine--already conjuring a chilled water.

Then I lean against the wall, watching her work from the shadows.

She's wearing a tight gray sweater and a pair of leggings that fit her perfectly sculpted thighs, socks adorning her feet.

Mona knows I'm here. Her body stiffens as she feels my gaze on her, but she doesn't say a word. She flips through a potions textbook, her long black hair tied in a messy bun. She twirls a loose strand as she reads, her eyebrows knitted.

"What potion are you working on?" I ask huskily, sleep still tainting my voice.

She glances up, her guarded eyes meeting mine. A ghost of a smile tugs at her lips before she forces it away, setting the book down on the table in front of her.