Emerson Wilmore was an exemplary Ravenclaw student, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and an unyielding moral compass. However, things took a twisted and deviated turn in her life after her boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, was murdered by L...
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Felix Mallard as Adrian Pucey
The warmth of the Slytherin Common Room pressed in around Emerson, the firelight flickering over the walls with the low buzz of laughter and music filling the space. But she barely registered any of it. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, her knee bouncing slightly as she sat curled into the couch beside Olivia. Her drink sat untouched on the table in front of her, the condensation pooling against the dark wood, forgotten in her rage.
She was still fuming.
Mattheo was infuriating.
Her head was still spinning; partly from the remnants of frustration, partly from the heated confrontation with Mattheo on the dance floor, and partly from the embarrassment still curling in her stomach from Pansy's taunts.
Her jaw clenched as she replayed the moment again. The way his hand clutched her waistline and the force of his grip as he pulled her off the dance floor like he owned her. The way his voice growled through clenched teeth, laced with jealousy and possession. The way he looked at her, his dark eyes burning with something she didn't quite understand but definitely didn't appreciate. He dragged her away like she was something he could claim and something he had the right to control.
And then there was fucking Pansy.
Pansy and her taunting words, smirking like the venomous little snake she was. She made a spectacle of Emerson's purity as if it was something shameful.
A flush of anger and embarrassment prickled against her skin.
It wasn't that she was prude. She wasn't scared of it. She wasn't repulsed by it. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to at times. She was just... Waiting for the right person.
With Cedric, she was too young. He was seventeen, and she was only fourteen. She was too young, too unsure and too much in love with the idea of him to even consider it seriously. It never felt like the right time when they were together. But, he always respected her. He never pushed her. He never made her feel like less for not being ready. And now—
Now, it did feel like the right time.
She just didn't have the person.
She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair before finally breaking the silence.
"He's impossible," She snapped to Olivia, breaking the silence between them. "I mean, who the hell does he think he is? Look at how he behaves, but the second I dance with you, he's suddenly the moral police?" She let out an incredulous laugh.
Olivia hummed, twirling the straw in her drink, watching her with that keen gaze.
"I mean, I knew he was possessive," Emerson went on, her anger bubbling over unchecked. "But this? This is a whole new level of bullshit. He dragged me off the dance floor, Liv. Like I was—Like I was his. Like I had no fucking choice in the matter." She shook her head, her heart still racing from the memory. "I don't know who the hell he thinks he is, but I swear to Merlin, I—,"
