Bound By Blood.

ch.3~ Not now, Not ever.

"Your thick head is going to get you killed one day. You're reckless."

Recovered Translated correspondents between Death Eater Mattheo Riddle, to Order Member Alexandra Brooks, 2004. 

Hogwarts, 1997.

Alexandra.

My head was spinning from the altercation in the library with Mattheo. 

The way he held me, the way he demanded answers like he deserved them. Like he could dissect my emotions and lay them bare before him, as if I owed him an explanation for how I felt. My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I paced the dimly lit corridor, the silence echoing back with my unease.

How dare he? I had spent years forging a sturdy wall around my feelings, a fortress built from sharp words and clever comebacks, and here he was, trying to breach it with nothing more than his relentless need for control. And he almost got something out of me. The air between us had been thick with tension, and for a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw vulnerability flicker in his eyes. But that only fueled my anger.

Who did he think he was?

Why did he think he could just confront me, as if I owed him some kind of confession? Did he forget that I was not some damsel waiting for his permission to feel or to speak? I was intelligent, capable, just as brave as he was.

I remembered the glances we'd exchanged in the library—how they had flickered back and forth like a battle of wills. 

It infuriated me even more that he knew the right buttons to push; that he could provoke me to the point where I might just break. No one else had that power over me, and the realization stung me more than I cared to admit.

I just wanted to live. 

With each step, my anger coiled tighter in my chest. He had leaned in too close, his breath warm against my cheek, and in that moment, I had felt more vulnerable than ever. 

It wasn't just his gaze that pierced through me, it was the way he insisted that he deserved to know everything that churned in my mind.

Why did he care so much about a fucking book?

I pressed my palms against the cool stone walls, as if hoping to ground myself in reality. 

Battling with him could only lead to one thing, an escalation I wasn't prepared for. 

Would he think he had won simply because he dared to challenge me?

"No way," I hissed through clenched teeth, to myself, I'm going mental. 

I feel it. 

Anger fed my resolve as I wrestled my raging thoughts into submission. "He does not get to own this. Not now, not ever."

I pivoted and headed back toward the common room, my heart pounding almost as violently as the anger thrumming through me. Perhaps I wouldn't confront him directly, but I'd be damned if I let him think he could rattle me that easily.

Mattheo could chase the secrets, but I would withhold them as long as it took. I would wield my silence like a weapon, as sharp and piercing as his demands. 

I was not a girl who would fall at his feet and answer his questions because he batted his big, brown eyes at me. 

I had a back bone.