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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Mild NSFW Scenes
Steam curled thickly around the stone walls, clinging to the air in slow, heavy waves as the water beat down against Mattheo's shoulders. It ran hot enough to sting at first before it sank into his muscles and loosened them, inch by inch. He didn't even turn it down. He let it burn into his skin.
The water didn't just fall, it drowned him. It poured over Mattheo's body in relentless streams, sliding down the sharp lines of muscle and bone like it was trying to carve something out of him. He braced one hand against the cool stone wall, head tipped forward and dark hair dripping as the water ran down the sharp line of his jaw and over the length of his neck.
His body ached. It wasn't the dull kind of tiredness that came from laziness. It came from the deep, satisfying soreness of something earned. Hours in the Forbidden Forest had left its mark on him. His shoulders were tight and his arms were heavy, every movement pulling faintly at muscle that were pushed to its limit.
His shoulders rolled once beneath the stream, muscles shifting and pulling tight from exertion. There were faint marks along his skin. They were nothing new or anything he paid attention to. They only made him look more like what he was: someone carved by fight, instinct and survival.
None of it bothered him. If anything, he welcomed it. It gave him something to focus on, because the alternative was far more dangerous.
His thoughts, which always led back to her.
Mattheo exhaled slowly, dragging a hand back through his hair, pushing the damp strands away from his face. Water followed the movement, trailing down over his collarbones and the defined planes of his chest, catching briefly along the ridges of muscle before slipping lower.
He barely noticed.
Because Emerson was there again. Her name moved through him like a pulse, threading itself into every thought until there was nothing else left. She lingered in his head the way a melody does after it ends, haunting and impossible to shake.
His eyes slipped shut for a moment, jaw flexing as her face surfaced in his mind with terrifying clarity. It wasn't vague. It never was. He could see her so clearly it was almost unfair, as if his mind decided that if he couldn't have her in front of him every second, it would simply recreate her instead.
The way her brown hair naturally fell when she didn't bother to style it, like she wasn't trying to be anything for anyone. He'd noticed that first about her on that breakfast on New Year's Day two years ago and it stayed with him. He thought about how it looked first thing on those mornings when they've woken up together, slightly tangled from sleep.
The way her eyes changed between varied shades of amber, green and brown depending on what she felt. Most people didn't see it, but Mattheo did. He saw the difference between when she was thinking, when she was angry or when she was trying to hide something. And Merlin, when she looked at him, there was something else there entirely.
