Boundless

𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 (𝟑𝟔)

Olympia Malfoy

Returning to Hogwarts after the holidays felt like stepping back into a different world entirely—one with sharp eyes and sharper tongues. The second I stepped off the train with Mattheo's hand laced in mine, the whispering started.

"Isn't that Sebastian's ex?"
"They only broke up a few weeks ago..."
"Merlin, that was fast."
"Do you think she cheated?"

Mattheo didn't flinch. He walked beside me like nothing in the world could touch us—like we hadn't just become the juiciest bit of gossip Hogwarts had seen since Pansy dyed her hair Gryffindor red on a dare in fourth year. But I heard every word.

And I felt every stare.

By Monday morning, I was practically crawling in my skin. I clung to Mattheo's hand tightly as we walked toward Charms, but my heart was already sinking somewhere below the castle's foundations.

My name fluttered from mouths as we passed. People didn't even pretend to whisper.

"She dumped Sebastian and hopped straight on Mattheo like a rebound—"
"—probably had them both going at once—"
"—girl can't keep her legs closed—"

That one made me stop walking.

It came from a fourth-year girl standing with a group near the staircase. She had a smirk on her face and that nasty, entitled tone that only the deeply bored and privileged could master. My breath caught in my throat.

But before I could even blink, Mattheo's grip slipped from mine—and then he was on her.

"What the fuck did you just say?" His voice cracked like thunder against the stone walls.

The girl's smile faltered. Her friends backed up a step.

Mattheo took a slow, threatening step forward. "Say it again. Say it about her one more time and see what happens."

The girl stammered. It was just a joke."

"Funny. I didn't laugh," he snapped, chest heaving. "Keep her name out of your mouth, or I swear on every bone in your smug little body—"

"Mattheo," I said gently, tugging at his sleeve.

He turned to me. His eyes softened immediately, but his fists were still clenched.

"I don't care what they say," I said quietly. "Let's just go."

But I did care. Every step we took down the corridor felt heavier. I wasn't ashamed of being with him—not for a second—but it hurt. It hurt being treated like I'd done something wrong just for following my heart. Just for being happy.

Mattheo led me into an empty classroom off the side corridor, slammed the door shut behind us, and faced me.

"Fuck this place," he said.

I blinked.

He took my hands in his. "I'm not letting you go through this today. I don't want you walking into that class and sitting there pretending it doesn't bother you when I know it does."

I looked up at him, trying to keep my voice even. "It's just rumours. People are always going to talk—"

"Yeah, but they don't get to tear you apart while they do it." His jaw clenched. "Let's leave."

"What, skip school?"

"Let's go to Hogsmeade. You, me, hot chocolate and zero judgmental little brats."

A small laugh escaped me, even through the tightness in my chest. "Are we really skipping school?"

He grinned. "Consider it self-care. Your sanity is more important than Transfiguration."

"Alright," I whispered, leaning into his hands. "Lead the way, Riddle."

–

Hogsmeade was quiet in the best way.

The snow had fallen heavily the night before, blanketing the rooftops and cobblestones in clean white. With most of the school in class, the streets were nearly empty, save for a few shopkeepers shovelling walkways and the was, rm golden light spilling out of windows.

Mattheo kept hold of my hand the entire time, tugging me through Honeydukes first, where I loaded up on peppermint bark and every chocolate frog I could find. He bought lemon fizz drops for me, too, even though he called them "a menace to the tongue."

Then we wandered through the bookstore, flipping through spell tomes and laughing over the ridiculous romance titles in the back corner. He read the worst lines aloud in overly dramatic voices until I was breathless from laughing.

Eventually, we landed at the Three Broomsticks, tucked into a booth near the fireplace. Two butterbeers in front of us, snow melting off our coats, and warmth slowly returning to my limbs.

Mattheo was watching me, that crooked smirk of his softening into something gentler.

"You okay now?" he asked.

I nodded, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. "Yeah. I just... hate how they make me feel."

"Like you should be ashamed for choosing me?" he said, voice low. "For letting go of something that wasn't right?"

I looked down, then back at him. "No. I'm not ashamed of us. I could never be. I just hate that they make me feel like I'm doing something wrong for being happy."

He reached across the table, took my hand. "You're not doing anything wrong. You're just being brave enough to live your life, and they don't know what to do with that."

"Have I told you I love you today?" I whispered.

"Not yet," he said, eyes dancing.

"I love you, Mattheo."

He leaned in across the table and kissed me softly. "I love you, Ollie."

We stayed out until the sun started to dip behind the clouds. Snowflakes fell lazily as we made our way back up the path to the castle. My cheeks were sore from smiling, my body warm even in the cold, and the ache from the morning whispers had finally faded.

Mattheo nudged me gently with his shoulder. "See? No crying in bathrooms. No stabbing fourth-years."

"Not yet," I teased.

He smirked. "Maybe tomorrow."

And even with the promise of gossip waiting for us inside those castle walls, I held his hand tighter and smiled.

Because norumourr could touch the truth I knew in my bones.

I was his.

And he was mine.