Outcasts | 5 Slytherins 1 Hermione | REVERSE HAREM

XVII

"What the fuck?"

His voice penetrated her ears, ringing and bouncing around in her head. She winced as if expecting a swing to follow.

NO NO NO

This wasn't happening. This was an awful nightmare; she would wake up, and this wouldn't be happening.

"Hello, Weasley," Mattheo drawled, an instigating smirk on his face.

Not a nightmare, then. Great.

Ron sputtered in disbelief, his eyes wide as they darted between Mattheo and her. "But- But you hate him!"

Mattheo turned to face Ron, his forearm still braced against the shelf beside her head. He was not the slightest bit embarrassed by the tent in his trousers. Hermione's face burned. She couldn't speak, the lingering taste of him on her tongue—a mix of mint and something smoky—rendering her mute. She couldn't believe this was happening and could only stare at Mattheo's shoes.

Mattheo snorted, straightening up to adjust himself and fix his clothes. "You say that as if it's a bad thing." He said, smirking.

"It's not—" Hermione hesitated, unsure of what to say next. 'It's not what you think' didn't seem right because it was exactly what he thought. Or at least a fifth of it.

She wasn't necessarily embarrassed or ashamed. No, she just knew there was no way he would understand. Ron had his own ways of coping after everything, but he never budged when it came to his enemies. Despite learning to coexist, in his eyes, they were still Death Eaters. So what he had just caught her doing was the worst betrayal possible. She might as well have been with Voldemort himself. She really hadn't been trying to be discreet, so the fact that it took him this long to find out said more about how much he or any of their friends were paying attention.

"What the FUCK?" Ron took a step toward them. "Hermione, has he imperiused you?" His hands balled into fists, and he studied her eyes as if he'd find proof of the curse.

Her head jerked up, locking eyes with him. "How dare you throw such an accusation?" she spat, pointing her finger at him, stepping forward. Not fully understanding her own temper.

Ron froze, brows furrowed in confusion. "You're telling me you're with him... willingly?"

"More than willing, I'd say," Mattheo mused, brushing a curl from her face, causing her to blush.

She shifted her focus to him, her eyes piercing and stern. "You're not helping. Shut it."

Mattheo held back a self-satisfied smile, much to her annoyance. She glared at him, and he quickly raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Whatever you say, My Violent Witch."

She knew what he was doing, and she didn't like it. She didn't have time to correct this behavior as she was interrupted by Ron's laugh.

"Violent?" Ron guffawed. "You don't know her at all."

"No? Did she not fight in a war?" Mattheo moved behind her until his front hit her back. His hands slipped possessively around her waist, pulling her back into him. Ron's face twitched as he watched the movement. "How long has it been since the two of you spoke? Maybe you're the one that doesn't know her very well, not anymore."

The air was thick with tension as Ron's eyes bored into hers, his face etched with disbelief.

This was the most public affection Mattheo had ever shown. Thoughts ran rampant in her head about what that meant. He was obviously trying to stake some kind of claim on her in front of Ron, but she wondered if it meant more.