She was a misfit, he was a git.
Matilda Diggory enters her fifth year of school, ready to remain as under the radar as possible, only there's a catch. She's somehow managed to catch the eye of a particularly annoying redhead, who seems hell-bent on...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
In the candlelight of her secret hideout, Matilda tangled her hands in Pierre's hair. Yet again, that desire to kiss, to feel, had taken over when she saw Adelaide and Fred in the Great Hall.
It was ridiculous, really. She'd been "dating" Pierre for two weeks now, and yet her jealousy of the Hufflepuff was still as strong as it had been the first day of term. It was intolerable, and speaking of Adelaide left a bitter taste on her tongue — sharp and metallic, like blood.
So she'd excused herself from the table, pulling Pierre down to her hideout. Her sanctuary. Her escape.
He held her against the stone wall, his hands gentle on her waist, grounding and unhurried. Her lips moved rhythmically against his and she moved her hand to his chest, feeling the muscle beneath the woollen jumper — solid, real.
"You're beautiful," he murmured against her mouth, running his hands up and down her back, the heat of his palms seeping through her shirt.
Matilda smiled as he littered kisses down her neck. Behind her eyes, she could disappear. She could pretend — just for that brief moment when she wasn't looking at Pierre's brown hair — that it was another boy fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
Maybe if she wasn't so selfish she could allow herself to feel something more for Pierre. Maybe she could let go and accept that Fred was never going to be hers.
Or maybe she could stay in this dizzying fantasy where Fred Weasley whispered sweet nothings in a hot, warm breath beneath her ear — a ghost of a want that never seemed to fade, no matter how much she tried to smother it.
✧.*
Back in the seclusion of her room, Matilda reached for her notebook and pen, allowing the words to flow in the ink. She wanted to feel guilty, to feel that it's wrong. To know peace again, for her heart to be singing another song. And despite the dread in her stomach, Matilda knew she would find her lips on Pierre's again tomorrow.
"What's in your parcel?" Angelina asked, pulling Matilda back to reality.
She looked at the end of her bed, where a large box sat. It had been delivered that morning, but Matilda had spent the day working on potions with Snape and then she'd found Pierre...
"I'm not sure. Let's open it."
She shuffled to the end of her bed, Angelina and Alicia doing the same on theirs, watching eagerly as she untied the thin rope. Lifting the top, Matilda raised her brows as she saw what sat inside.
"What is it?" Alicia asked impatiently.
Matilda pulled out a beautiful satin dress the colour of fresh grass cast in golden rays of sunshine. The front was cut in a v-line, with the satiny material of the shoulder straps changing to golden chains that joined into one at the back.
"Holy shit, Matilda!" Angelina said, jumping up to touch the dress, eyes wide with admiration.
"Who sent you that?!" Alicia breathed, looking at it in awe, almost reverent.
