Boundless

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

As I sat at the Slytherin table, the clatter of the Great Hall faded into a murmur. I watched, my heart tightening, as my friends embraced Mattheo Riddle, the new student whose very name resurrected the pain of my father's death. The anger simmered within me, barely contained as they introduced him around, oblivious or indifferent to the wounds his presence opened.

When Mattheo's eyes met mine, he seemed clueless to the storm he'd walked into. Draco, ever the peacemaker, gestured towards me. "And this is Stella Black."

At the mention of my surname, Mattheo's expression shifted from polite interest to something akin to shock. He cleared his throat, which sounded more like a strangled choke. "Black?" he echoed, looking through his lashes, the fork he had been twirling falling still against his plate.

"If you forget the name, it's engraved on my father's tombstone," I snapped, the words sharp, my gaze narrow as I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle the bitterness rising in my throat.

Sebastian, sensing my distress, placed a comforting hand on my knee under the table. "El, come on," he murmured, his touch meant to soothe.

I glanced at his hand, then back at Mattheo. My face softened, though my defenses remained sky-high. "No, you're right," I said, looking from Sebastian to Mattheo, forcing a calmer tone. "It's not like you're the Riddle who killed my father. We all know who that is."

The tension at the table thickened, a palpable entity that seemed to choke the air around us. We finished dinner in strained silence, the usual chatter replaced by an uncomfortable stillness.

After dinner, the group descended to the common room for our first night back. As everyone settled down on the sofas, some drawing extra chairs from the desks, I was the last to enter the common room. My eyes scanned the room for a seat beside Sebastian, only to find that Mattheo was already sitting next to him.

Disappointment knotted in my stomach. Why were they letting him into our circle so easily? Mattheo's father was the reason Draco's dad was in prison, yet there they sat, chatting as if old friends.

"Come sit, S," Draco called out, patting an extra chair he'd brought beside him.

I shook my head, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. "I'm not actually feeling it tonight, I'm going to head up to my room," I said, my voice steady though my hands were clenched tight.

Draco tilted his head, trying to read my body language, but I had become adept at masking my true feelings over the summer.

"It's the first night back, don't sit in your room alone," Sebastian said as he stood and approached me.

"It's been a long day. I just want to hit the hay, you know?" I replied, hoping he wouldn't press further.

He sighed and kissed my forehead-a gesture that once brought comfort but now felt like a reminder of my fragility. Sebastian had struggled to argue with me since my father's death, his leniency a double-edged sword that both supported and smothered me.

"I can come up to yours after. I'm probably going to have just one or two tonight," Sebastian smiled, his hands cradling my face as he looked down at me. But the thought of spiraling lurked in the back of my mind, and I didn't want him to witness it.

"I'd actually like to be alone tonight, just get accustomed to my dorm again," I replied softly, trying to convey my need for space without hurting him.

His hands moved from my face to my arms, then to intertwine our hands. "Okay, whatever you want, El," he whispered, leaving a quick kiss on my lips before returning to his seat.

Leaving the common room behind, I ascended to my dorm. Each year, our space seemed to expand, accommodating more luggage and providing more corners to hide away from the ever-curious first years.

Once inside, I locked the door and approached my trunk. Lifting the false bottom, I revealed a stash of drugs-my secret escape, now dangerously low. I lined up a dose on my desk, inhaling it in a swift, practiced motion before tucking everything back under my bed.

Returning to Hogwarts was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to honor my father's memory by facing the pain head-on. Yet, as I lay in my bed, the numbness provided by the drugs was the only relief from the image of Mattheo walking free, untouched by the crimes his lineage had committed. In the darkness, I wondered if my father would understand why his daughter couldn't bear to face the world sober just yet. The shadows of the past were too deep, and the pain too raw.