Harry Potter One Shots

Afterglow - m.r. (os) *

Your feet touched the cold floor of the common room, freezing further with every step you took. Though the cold couldn't balance out the burning of your eyes. Red. Red because of the tears they so desperately needed to free from the barriers. The barriers getting weaker as the weeks passed, but still held steady by the hands of one person: Mattheo Riddle.

Academic validation was slowly eating you from the inside, until there was almost nothing left. Everything just hurt. Your head hurt, your back hurt, your eyes hurt, your-

- "Y/n?"

The look in his eyes could mend every wound left by your endless hours of studying. It was always soft when he looked at you. Soft but concealing every single other emotion underneath. He nodded, stepping aside to let you in.

The atmosphere instantly fell down on you, the familiar scent of his room wrapping around your heart like a blanket. You noticed the deserted book on the crumpled sheets of his bed. He was reading, trying to have some time for himself. The guilt came crushing down on you. You were so selfish, asking for his time like this over and over and over and over — But so did he...

You felt his presence creeping up behind you. No matter how many times you did it, the tension never left. His fingertips touched the strands of your hair, pulling them aside to expose your neck to him. His lips aimed straight for the spot he knew would make you squirm. "Why those tears, mhmm?"

He traced a path to your jaw, his hand snaking up to the front to gently grip it. His index finger trailing its way to the bottom of your lips, pulling it down slightly. "Tell me what's been bothering you..."

"Stress..."

And with a soft hum, he showed that he understood. Stress, a thing that's been torturing both of you for ages but not in quite the exact same way. "And you came to me to release it, yes?"

You nod, hoping he'd feel the movement against his fingertips. "Nodding won't do, y/n. I need to hear you say it." He softly pulled back your head, making you look up at him.

"Yes..."

And with that he angled your head slightly to the side to smash his lips against yours in a fervent kiss. His chest pushing tightly against your back. His hands nearing their way to the point of your pulse. He gently pressed down his thumb, to feel the adrenaline streaming through your veins. He smirked against your lips at the feel of the throbbing under the pads of his fingers. He always managed to rile you up in the perfect ways.

He never left you the chance to speak more about what happened, how badly you wanted to... You wanted to talk to him, gosh you so desperately needed to talk to him. Just as much as you needed him to touch you, and right now you might've needed that more. So you just let him, swallowing down the words you've been dying to say to him for months.

Before you knew it, he had you pinned to his mattress. The book he was reading long discarded to the cold floor.

His touch went straight to your heart. Your body, mind, and heart fighting to take the upper hand.

It was your body which craved his touch. The way he touched you sent you to a complete different dimension. It was as if the world around you just stopped, like the only the thing that mattered where the fingers of the man on top of you. The fingers that mapped out your skin like a cartographer.

He knew every single spot that drove you crazy, linked to the reactions it resulted in. His hand now making his way down your body almost like it was making its way through a forest. As it it was in search for a treasure — the signal of arrival when he felt your back arch off the bed. With subtle pressure trying to trick the one who left the treasure behind. As if it was a substitute to the weight that your mind carried.