Bound By Blood.

Ch.14~ Did I cross the line?

"A year. A fucking year, and now you write?! Like calls to like my ass, Riddle. You had no problem staying away for five years, and now another year.

You don't call to anything.

Not even me."

Recovered translated correspondents from Order Member Alexandra Brooks, to Death Eater Mattheo Riddle, 2005.

Hogwarts, 1997.

Mattheo.

I watch Brooks storm down the hallway, her feet dragging against the polished tiles.

She's radiating anger, her expression a mix of annoyance and frustration, and for a moment, I can't help but feel a bit of sympathy.

She looks like she's about to explode, like she desperately needs a break...just like I do after what happened earlier.

She was so different with me.

So short.

It annoyed the fuck out of me.

Against my better judgment, I follow her into the library, trying to keep my distance.

It's one of those quiet, introspective places, yet it's also where I find myself drawn to her, despite the constant bickering.

I edge behind a tall shelf, as I watch her pace back and forth, the tension in the air almost palpable.

Her usual confidence seems shaken today.

Brooks runs a hand through her hair, pulling at the roots as if trying to dispel the thoughts swirling in her mind.

The way she moves is restless, a blend of frustration and vulnerability, and it stirs something inside me, something I can't quite articulate but know is there, tangled up with our rivalry.

One minute we're enemies, and the next, I'm left thinking about her long after we part, wondering about the way her eyes flash when she's angry and the curl of her lips when she thinks she's won.

I know I shouldn't.

I know its wrong, that it would never work.

That my plans were long etched into the stars, and no one could change that.

But my mind... it always found her.

Brooks stops in front of a row of books, her eyes scanning the titles but not really taking them in.

I could tell.

She usually looks at books like her safe heaven... not tonight.

It's as if she's trapped in her mind, her thoughts racing while her body is stuck in this quiet place.

My chest tightens at the sight of her this way.

She's beautiful even in frustration, and I hate to admit it.

A fierce fire tempered by an unmistakable softness, just a reminder of why this whole enemies-to-more thing is so complicated.

Without warning, she pulls a book from the shelf and slams it down on a nearby table.

The sound reverberates through the library, snapping me to attention.

The sharp noise catches me off guard, and I almost step back into the shadows.

But there's something about her struggle that pulls me forward; I don't want to leave her alone in her turmoil, even if it means facing her anger again.