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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Emerson was furious. She had always prided herself on her ability to keep her emotions in check and hold her ground, no matter how much pressure was applied. But Mattheo Riddle, he was different. He knew exactly where to press and exactly how to slip past her defences like a blade between armour plates.
And she hated him for it.
And she hated herself.
For letting him get to her. Again.
For the way his words had heat spiraling through her veins, the way her body betrayed her in his presence and the way she let him tear down every carefully built defence with just a look. She was doing everything in her power to keep him at arm's length, to remind herself of who he was and why she couldn't, shouldn't, let him in. And yet, all it took was a few words, a single look and his touch and she crumbled.
She shouldn't be so hard on herself. She shoved him away in the end. She told him she didn't want him. And yet, he had only smiled.
As if he knew something she didn't.
As if he had already won.
And worse, far worse, was that for a few dizzying moments, it almost felt true.
Because when he stared at her like that, voice dripping with the kind of arrogance that made her want to slap him and kiss him all at once, she felt her self-control fray. When the memory of the Black Lake surged through her, she felt her body betray her.
Even now, days later, the ghost of it lingered. It was months ago, but she could still feel the phantom press of his forehead against hers and his damp curls brushing against her skin. She could still hear the way he murmured those words, smooth and resolute, filled with a certainty she desperately needed to hear in that moment.
And she hated it. She hated him. At least, she tried to.
The anger stayed with her for days. A restless, simmering frustration that made her stomach twist and her fists clench whenever she thought about him. Which was far too often for her liking.
"I swear to Merlin, Olivia, I could kill him."
Emerson sat cross-legged on her bed, fingers gripping her pillow as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Olivia sat across from her, back against the headboard, eyes narrowed as she listened intently.
"So let me get this straight," Olivia explained, arms crossing. "He wasn't trying to apologise. He wasn't groveling to get you back. He was just..." She paused, frowning. "Flirting with you? Like, blatantly?"
"Yes," Emerson said through gritted teeth.
"Merlin," Olivia muttered, rubbing her temples. "He's an absolute menace."
Emerson scoffed. "Tell me about it. It was more than flirting. It was—," She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "It was like he was trying to make me fall for him. As if he knew I..." She trailed off, jaw clenching, hating herself for even thinking it.
