CreativeStories01
- Прочтений 22,601
- Голосов 504
- Частей 51
At Hogwarts, Percy Weasley is perfect-a Prefect polished to a shine, tie always straight, every rule memorized like scripture. Naomi is his match in bloodline and brilliance, but where Percy follows the rules, she knows how to bend them. Pureblood, yes-but with a glint in her eyes that says reputation be damned.
She teases him with parchment-passed notes during Ancient Runes, fingers brushing his as she hands them over, lips curved just slightly too much for innocence. He pretends to ignore her. Pretends not to feel the way her gaze lingers too long. But she knows. And so does he.
It all snaps one night in the Prefect's bathroom-late, quiet, forbidden.
He catches her there, alone, steam curling around her like smoke around fire.
That's when he breaks.
He kisses her like he's never broken a rule in his life-slow at first, like he's savoring every second of rebellion. But it doesn't stay slow. His hands find her waist, her lips find his neck, and suddenly the golden boy of Gryffindor is unraveling beneath a girl who makes him forget his badge.
The marble is cold but her skin is fire, and somewhere between her whispering his name and his fingers tracing her collarbone, Percy decides: for once, he wants to be wrong.
When it's over, and they're tangled up in discarded robes and stolen breaths.
And Naomi just smiles-because she's known that all along.