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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Caution: NSFW scenes below
The green and silver jersey sat in her bag afterwards, untouched.
Emerson barely slept. She lay awake, staring at the canopy above her four-poster, mind circling around Enzo's plan like a vulture over a carcass. It was reckless. Petty. She knew that. But she couldn't stop imagining it. Couldn't stop imagining Mattheo's reaction.
His glare darkening, his jaw locking, his hands clenching like he was resisting the urge to grab her and rip the jersey off her body. She knew him well enough now to know exactly how he would react.
The thought made her stomach clench, heat pooling deep inside her.
As much as it disgusted her to ever admit it aloud, the idea of him wanting her and losing control over the mere sight of her in another boy's jersey—
It turned her on.
She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling sharply. No, she was not that kind of person.
She wasn't Slytherin enough to play a game like that. She wasn't him.
She shouldn't want this. She shouldn't crave him. She shouldn't feel anything toward him at all, not after what he did to her last year. He used her, betrayed her trust and in the process, broke something inside her she still hadn't managed to fix.
She turned over in bed, shoving her face into her pillow. She was losing her mind. And it was his fault.
By the time morning came, Emerson had made a decision.
She was not going to wear the jersey. She was going to be the bigger person.
She wasn't going to stoop to Mattheo's level. She wasn't going to let Enzo's Slytherin schemes get into her head. She was going to be mature about this.
As she walked into breakfast, Olivia was already waiting for her at the Ravenclaw table, looking far more composed than she did the night before. Emerson studied her carefully.
"You're in a good mood," She noted.
Olivia smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just feeling better this morning."
Emerson arched a brow but let it slide. She knew Olivia well enough to know when she was faking it. But if Olivia didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering her, Emerson wouldn't push.
Instead, she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I've decided I'm not doing it."
Olivia, who had just picked up a piece of toast, paused. "... What?"
"I'm not wearing Enzo's jersey," Emerson muttered. "It's petty and stupid, and I shouldn't care about what Mattheo thinks."
Olivia exhaled, setting down her toast. "Okay," She said slowly. "I get that. But..." She leaned in slightly. "If you did change your mind, you don't have to wear it straight away too."
