Boundless | Mattheo Riddle

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 (𝟏𝟓)

Olympia Malfoy

The walk to Hogsmeade felt longer than usual.

The kind of long where every step sounded louder than it should. My boots crunched over the thin frost, and I kept my hands buried deep in my coat pockets to hide the way they trembled.

Sebastian had asked me to meet him outside Honeydukes for a date. He said it so casually — as if we hadn't been quietly circling around each other since the party, as if he hadn't seen me in the common room, curled asleep on Mattheo Riddle's shoulder like I belonged there.

As if that didn't mean something.

He smiled when I arrived. That perfect, camera-ready grin. The kind of smile people noticed, the kind that made girls blush and teachers offer leniency they never should.

But when he kissed my cheek, it felt cold.

We didn't go to Honeydukes. Not really. He steered us toward Madam Puddifoot's instead — a place drenched in lace curtains and floating hearts, which made me feel more suffocated than romantic.

He ordered tea. I didn't touch mine.

"So," he said, stirring sugar into his cup like he didn't care, "how's Prefect duty been?"

I blinked. "Fine?"

"Good," he nodded. "Because I heard someone was in the Prefect's bathroom who... technically shouldn't be."

My stomach dropped. My fingers curled around the edge of my seat. "He was bleeding. He needed to clean up."

Sebastian didn't look up. "And you helped him."

There was no accusation in his tone. That made it worse.

"He got into a fight," I said quietly.

Sebastian leaned back, finally meeting my eyes. "A fight he only got into because he was pissed about you."

I didn't answer.

"I saw his hands this morning in the Great Hall," Sebastian added. "Neatly wrapped. Healing salve. Enchanted thread. A Prefect's kit, if I'm not mistaken."

He leaned forward slowly.

"And your handwriting on his bandage."

I swallowed hard. "Seb—"

"Why did you lie to me?" he said softly. "You said you were sick."

My throat closed up. "I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to?" He gave a soft laugh. Not kind. "Ollie, you fell asleep on him. In the common room. Where everyone could see."

"I was tired," I whispered.

"You kissed him?"

The words struck like a hex. I froze.

He waited. But I didn't answer. Couldn't.

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw clenching.

"I don't want to be the villain here," he said, voice low and even. "I know he's back. I know you're confused. And I get it — you two have... whatever it is between you. History. Nostalgia. But if you're going to be my girlfriend, Ollie, then I need one thing."

I looked up.

"Stay away from him."

My pulse thundered in my ears. I opened my mouth — to argue, to confess, to explain — but nothing came out.

He leaned back. "That's the line. I won't ask twice."

The tea had gone cold. My hands felt colder.

I nodded. Slowly. Mechanically.

But something in me cracked.

Because even as I sat there across from Sebastian — the boy I was supposed to be dating — I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt to be on that marble counter, Mattheo's breath warm against my skin, his lips tasting like truth.

And how, for a moment, I wasn't confused at all.

I was home.