15. (long chapter)

I lie on my bed, the curtains drawn, the blanket over me feels heavier than usual. My eyes burn with fatigue, but I just can't close them.

Every time I do, it's as if I'm falling into a black hole – and his eyes are waiting there.

Blood-red, cold.

They're watching me. Always.

It's been two weeks, but it feels like two years.

The silence between us all has grown thicker. The air is tense, like a band tied too tight, ready to snap at any moment.

No one talks about what happened, but everyone's thinking about it.

I see it in Pansy's eyes when she looks at me, as if she can't recognize me anymore. I see it in Enzo's quiet gazes, in Theo's clenched jaw.

Mattheo and I haven't exchanged a word since then. He's out there, somewhere in the room, somewhere in Hogwarts, somewhere in my shadow. But we're ignoring each other. And I don't know if it's better or worse that he won't look at me.

I avoid Harry. Constantly.I can't bear to face him.

I can't look into his eyes and live with the fact that I'm the one who betrayed everything.

The night is quiet.

Until Pansy's voice softly cuts through the silence.»Are you asleep?«

I open my eyes, staring at the ceiling. »No.«

I hear her shifting, probably sitting up.»You haven't slept in two weeks.«

I don't reply.

»Sarah,« she says again, her voice quieter now. »This is going to destroy you.«

»I'm not tired.«

She lets out a quiet, bitter laugh.»Don't lie to me. I can see the bags under your eyes from here.«

I turn on my side, push the blanket off, and sit up.»What am I supposed to do, Pansy?« My voice is flat. Empty.»Run to Madam Pomfrey and ask for a sleeping potion? Stop Harry in the hallway and say, 'Hey, I joined Voldemort, but let's pretend everything's fine'?«I shake my head.»I'm not tired. I just can't sleep.«

Pansy exhales sharply.»Because you're scared.«

I press my lips together.

»Sarah,« she says gently. »What they did to you... what they did to all of us...«She pauses.»It won't go away just because you won't talk about it.«

»And what if I don't want to talk about it?«My voice comes out harsher than I meant it to.

She stays silent.

I run a hand through my hair, wrapping my arms around my knees.»I just want to...« I stop.I don't even know what I'm trying to say.

Pansy shifts closer, placing a hand on my shoulder.»Mattheo hasn't been sleeping either.«

My body tenses. I don't look at her.

»He looks like shit,« she adds. »Just like you.«

I let out a dry laugh.»Well, at least we have something in common then.«

Pansy pulls her hand back.»Talk to him.«

I immediately shake my head.»No.«

»Sarah—«

»No, Pansy.« My voice is firm. »That's over.«

She studies me for a long moment, like she's searching for the version of me that existed two weeks ago. Then she sighs and leans back against the edge of the bed. »At some point, you're going to have to talk to him.«

I say nothing.The silence lingers.

Pansy exhales quietly.»I know Mattheo's a massive asshole. A heartless bastard who seems to enjoy watching people suffer.« She pauses, as if carefully choosing her next words. »But something's... off about him. Ever since you got the Mark.«

I scoff. »Oh, totally. Maybe he finally realized he's been using the wrong hair pomade all these years. Or maybe it just hit him that his charm only works on dumb first-years.«

Pansy gives me an annoyed look.»Sarah.«

»What?« I lean back, crossing my arms.»You really think Mattheo Riddle — the king of indifference — suddenly caught some sort of feelings? For me?« I let out a dry laugh.»That's the worst joke I've heard in a long time.«

»I'm not saying he has feelings,« she replies.»I'm saying he's different. Quieter. Angrier. And completely, terrifyingly unpredictable.«

I roll my eyes.»He's always unpredictable.«

»But not like this,« she insists. »I've seen him, Sarah. When he looks at you, when you walk past him, when someone even says your name—«

»I'm avoiding him, Pansy.«

»And he's avoiding you too.«

I frown.

»You haven't noticed, have you?« Pansy raises an eyebrow. »He's not just quiet. He's gone. Like absent. Mattheo Riddle is never gone.«

I don't know what to say to that. So I say nothing.

Pansy shifts a little closer. »You can deny it all you want, but something happened between you two. And I swear, if you throw another sarcastic comment at me right now, I'll—«

»You'll what?« I challenge, narrowing my eyes at her.

»I'll kick your ass, for Merlin's sake!« Pansy huffs.

»You don't get it! I... why should I talk to someone who thinks he has the right to hit me whenever he wants or— Merlin! That arrogance!«

She squints at me, but then just shakes her head and leans back. »You know what? Do whatever you want.«

»I was going to anyway.«

Pansy scoffs.»Yeah, that's the bloody problem.«

She suddenly pauses mid-sentence and blinks at me. »Wait. What did you just say?«

I shrug.»Nothing.«

»No.« She sits up straight. »Say it again.«

I sigh.»Pansy, drop it.«

»No, Sarah.« Her voice turns sharp as a blade. »Did you just say Mattheo hit you?«

I close my eyes for a second.Shit. I shouldn't have said anything.

»It was nothing,« I wave it off.»A stupid moment. We were arguing, I provoked him, he lost it. That's all.«

Pansy stares at me like I just told her I'd married Draco.»He lost it? Are you serious right now?!«

»Pansy—«

»No!«She jumps to her feet.»That bloody bastard hit you, Sarah!«

I roll my eyes.»It was a slap, Pansy. It's not like he beat me unconscious.«

»Oh, wow!«She throws her hands in the air.»Well, that makes it all fine then, doesn't it?! A slap's totally harmless, right?!«

»I'm just saying it's not worth the drama you're making out of it.«

Pansy looks like she wants to throw something at the wall. »Sarah, have you completely lost your mind?«

»Pansy.« I shoot her an annoyed look. »It was a one-time thing.«

»And that makes it okay?!«

I sigh.»I just mean... it doesn't mean anything.«

»Yes, it does.«She crosses her arms. »It means a hell of a lot.«

I don't want to hear this.I want to sleep.I want her to stop looking at me like that — like she's judging me.

»Just drop it, Pansy.«

»No.« Her eyes flash. »Tell me you don't actually believe this is normal.«

I press my lips together.

»Fine.«She shakes her head slowly.»But if he ever lays a hand on you again, Sarah—«

»He won't.« I look her straight in the eyes. »So stop making this such a big deal.«

Pansy scoffs but stays quiet. Still, I know she won't forget.

𓆗

My eyes blink slowly, heavy as lead.The lack of sleep from the past few weeks weighs on me, pulling me into a dense, dreamless darkness.

The voices around me fade into a distant murmur, and the Quidditch game blurs into shapeless movement.

I just want to close my eyes...For one short moment...

My eyes drift shut.

When I jolt upright again, it's not because of the commentator's voice or the cheering crowd — no, it's because of the sheer, deafening noise that suddenly erupts across the pitch.

My head snaps up. All around me, people are standing, shouting things I can't quite make out.Confused, I rub my eyes, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

The quidditch match is clearly over — or at least interrupted.

And then I see it.

Down on the field, right on the grass, two figures are fighting so viciously that the players nearby can't decide whether to intervene or run for cover.

Mattheo.

Cormac bloody McLaggen.

My stomach twists into a knot.

Mattheo has Cormac by the collar, his face twisted with pure hatred, while Cormac fights back just as wildly. Blood is already dripping onto the grass — I can't tell whose it is.

»GET OFF ME, RIDDLE!« Cormac spits, trying to wrench himself free with a sharp movement.

But Mattheo only grips him tighter, his chest rising and falling rapidly.»You filthy bastard—« his voice is hoarse with rage, »—I swear I'll put you in the ground with my own damn hands!«

He hits him again. Hard.

Professors rush in, screams echo across the field. McGonagall and Snape are sprinting toward the fight but they don't seem to try to stop it and I don't know why, while Flint and Wood try to restrain their teammates.

But Mattheo breaks free.

He charges at Cormac again, slamming him back with full force, as if trying to drive him through the ground.

My heart pounds in my chest.

What the hell happened?

For a moment, it's like no one is doing anything. Everything around me blurs — the shouting, the faces, the pitch.

All I see is Mattheo losing control, and Cormac already covered in blood.

My body moves before my mind can catch up.

What comes next might sounds like it's straight out of some cringe-worthy romance film.

And it is cringe-worthy — who the hell do I think I am, barging in like I'm about to reenact the whole dramatic ‚Look at me, Riddle! This isn't you!« scene?' I mean we're not in some muggle Kissing Booth parody.

But I do it anyway.

I run. Faster than I should. My heart slams against my ribs, and then — without thinking — I leap onto Mattheo.

My arms wrap around his neck, my legs around his waist, and with all the strength I have, I hold on tight.

»YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!« I scream, my voice cracking with panic.

Mattheo stumbles back slightly, but his fists are still clenched, his entire body trembling with rage.I can feel it underneath me — every muscle tensed, ready to launch at Cormac again.

»Mattheo, stop!« My nails dig into his skin. »Let it go! You're going to fucking kill him!«

Cormac lies on the ground, his face smeared with blood, his lip split open. His chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes dazed.

Still... he somehow manages to look handsome.

If only he weren't such an asshole...

Mattheo is breathing hard. I can feel his pulse beneath my hands, his whole body like a tightly pulled rope, seconds from snapping.

But he doesn't move.

For a few moments, it's like he's ignoring me completely — like my voice is just background noise in his head. Then — slowly — he lets go of Cormac.

His grip on Cormac's jersey loosens, his fists relax, and that wild tension in his body begins to fade.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

But then Mattheo turns his head slightly, his voice dangerously quiet: »Get. Off. Me.«

My throat is dry, my heart pounding against my ribs. I'm still clinging to Mattheo, my legs wrapped tightly around him, my breath warm against his neck.

I can feel the heat radiating from him — raw, unrestrained rage.

»Only if you calm down,« I whisper, barely audible.

His body remains tense, the muscles twitching beneath my fingertips, as though he might explode again at any second.

Then I realize — all eyes are on us. The entire Quidditch pitch. Gryffindors, Slytherins, professors. Madam Pomfrey is already rushing across the field, her face stern, her hands clenched tightly around her healing kit.

Cormac is still on the ground, his face bloody, his breathing labored. But when our eyes meet, he lifts his chin slightly.And then — to my absolute shock — he grins.

And winks at me.

I feel Mattheo tense beneath me again. His body trembles.

»Don't you dare, you fucking—« he growls, his fist already rising.

»Mattheo!« I tighten my grip, holding onto him even harder, pressing my face closer to his neck.

It takes me a second to get the word out. A word that feels foreign, one I never wanted to say to him — but right now, it's the only thing that might stop him.

It hurts to say it, because the last time I used it, I was begging. Drowning in pain.

Softly, so only he can hear it, I whisper:

»Please.«

His entire body freezes.

It's like I flipped some invisible switch.

The tension in his shoulders remains, his breathing still ragged, but his fist stays in the air — like even he can't believe he's actually holding back.

Silence.

No one says anything. No one moves.

I can feel his heart hammering beneath my chest, far too fast, far too wild.

Then, after what feels like an eternity, his fist slowly lowers.

He exhales — a sharp, scornful sound — and suddenly turns.

His hands grab my thighs, and before I can even process what's happening, he tears me off him.

I land roughly on my feet, stumbling back a step.

Mattheo glances at me — one I can't quite decipher. Anger. Frustration. Something else.

Then he spits blood on the ground, turns, and walks away.

I'm left behind, my heart still pounding too loud. My gaze falls on Cormac. His lip is split, his eye swollen, yet he's grinning at me.

»Looks like I hit a nerve, huh?« he murmurs as Madam Pomfrey bends over him, silencing him.

»You're an asshole.«I give him a sharp look, then turn and walk in the other direction.

Away from Cormac.

Away from Mattheo.

Away from it all.

I slowly let go of the anger, but before I can take another step, I hear Pansy and Theo's voices cutting through the crowd. They're not far, and it doesn't take long before they're standing next to me.

»I knew it,« Pansy says quietly, her voice almost accusatory but also surprised. »You have some kind of influence on Mattheo. Every time you're around, he calms down...«

I cross my arms over my chest and look at her coldly. »It's really not what you think,« I reply, my voice sharp. »I didn't influence him. He's the one who needs to stop hurting himself and others. I just can't fucking understand him. I hate him.«

Theo, who stands next to Pansy, looks at me with a serious expression, as if he's analyzing the situation in his own way. »You can't just say that, Sarah. You know what kind of asshole he is. And still... you've calmed him down several times now, in some way.«

I lower my gaze to the ground, trying not to panic. Why is everyone making such a drama out of this? I just want him to calm down, nothing more.

And what if it's true? What if there is something about me that changes him? I clench my teeth and shake my head.

»Stop dramatizing,« I say sharply. »I just made sure no one dies. He's an idiot, but that doesn't change the fact that he's not one of us, he just keeps going until everything's destroyed.«

Pansy raises an eyebrow, as if surprised by my words, but she doesn't say anything else. Theo, however, looks at me critically.

»That doesn't mean you can control him, Sarah. Be careful you don't get tangled in something you'll regret later,« he warns me.

I can't help but suppress a bitter comment. It feels like no one here really understands me, not even my friends.

But I can't let that stop me. I know what I'm doing — and I won't let anyone else talk me out of it.

I'm just about to turn around when I hear Harry's voice. It catches me off guard, and for a moment, I freeze in place.

As I slowly turn to him, I see him walking toward me, his brow furrowed.

»Sarah,« he says, and his voice sounds somehow disappointed, as if he expected something he's now missing. »I've missed you. You hardly talk to me anymore. You don't even come to my table. What's going on with you?«

I feel a cold sensation spreading through my chest.

What does he expect from me? That I change for him? That I fall back into the old role? No. That's over.

»You haven't really cared these past few weeks, Harry,« I reply coolly, not showing a smile. »It's not like you've tried to check on me. You'd rather I'm not around. So stop pretending like anything's different.«

Harry stops briefly, as if he needs to process it first. I can see him pulling himself together, the anger rising within him. »That's not fair, Sarah,« he says, and his voice sharpens. »You're acting like I'm not doing anything for you. And that's not true. I've tried talking to you, but you keep pushing me away. Why?«

»Why?« I laugh bitterly and cross my arms over my chest. »Because I can't always be there for you, Harry. I can't pretend like everything is the way it used to be when you keep showing me that you don't really understand me. You've got your life, and I've got mine. You'll never understand what I'm going through. And now stop blaming me.«

I can see Harry's face twist as he realizes I'm not going to engage with his apologies. His eyes flash with anger, and I can feel the tension building between us, almost palpable.

»So is that all you have to say?« he asks, and his voice gets sharper. »You're joining all these assholes, and now you're just gone. Not a word from you, no sign, nothing. For Merlin's sake! I knew those Slytherin bastards have some bad influence on you! You act like you're perfect now!«

»I never said I was perfect,« I reply, my voice as cold as his glare. »I just said that I'm fighting for myself now. And you should do the same.«

For a moment, there's silence between us. I feel the space around us getting tighter, as if every glance from the other witnesses is like an invisible wall separating us.

»If you keep going like this, it's never going to work,« he says, his voice almost quiet now, as if he's about to give up.

»Maybe that's for the best,« I whisper back and turn around, not looking him in the eyes again.

I feel his anger following me as I walk away, but I know there's nothing left that could hold us together now.

Mission 'Make my beloved brother hate me to avoid hurting him with my actions'

Check.

𓆗

It's already late, and the cool evening wind blows through my hair as I sit on top of the Astronomy Tower.

It's already late, the moon gleams faintly through the clouds, casting a silver light on the Astronomy Tower.

I lean against the railing and look out over the vast grounds of Hogwarts. The wind brushes through my hair, and I close my eyes for a moment, trying to push the thoughts from my mind.

I feel like everything around me is still too loud, like the turmoil in my head will never end. But here, on this tower, I can at least breathe a little.

Then I hear footsteps behind me. Slow, steady steps.

I don't immediately turn around, but I feel someone approaching. When Cormac finally appears beside me, I first see him from the corner of my eye.

The injuries Mattheo caused him aren't as bad anymore, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, but he still carries traces of the fight.

The bloody remnants are almost completely healed, but you can still see the battle in his posture.

»A lovely young lady all alone on the tower,« he says finally, his words like a soft whisper, as if he wants to compliment me without drawing too much attention.

I raise an eyebrow and slowly turn my head to him. Part of me wants to give him the cold shoulder, but something in his gaze stops me.

»I guess it's a good place to think,« I finally reply, without really smiling.

Cormac stays calm, his posture relaxed and easy. »I thought so too. But you know, up here you're rarely really alone. Someone always comes by to keep you company,« he says, and this time it's not just a charming smile, but also a little ironic.

»Got something on your mind?« I then ask, feeling the tension in the air. Maybe I'm in the mood to talk to someone, even if it's Cormac.

»Honestly?« He shrugs one shoulder. »I just wanted to know how you're holding up after everything escalated. You're not exactly the one people would expect on the tower. But if you need it...«

His voice sounds light, almost kind in a way. I'm not sure what to make of him, but somehow I don't feel the urgency to just turn him away.

»...It's fine,« I admit, and my words sound rough, as if I wanted to say something else.

But this feels different. Maybe because he's the only one who doesn't immediately pass judgment.

»I know,« he says quietly before falling silent for a moment. »But you should know, you're not alone in this. You should always keep that in mind.«

I nod slowly and look again at the vast grounds below me. The wind picks up, and for a moment, I wish the evening would stay as still as possible.

Cormac casually leans against the railing and gazes into the distance. The moon casts shimmering reflections on his face, and for a moment, he almost looks thoughtful before he turns back to me.

»You know, there are people who think they're something special. Especially when they have a family as special as the Riddles,« he says with a slight smile, which somehow sounds more than just a little mocking. »I'm telling you, that's not something to be proud of.«

I give him a skeptical look. »He's the son of Voldemort, Cormac. I think we all have our own expectations of him, don't we?«

»And what about you, Sarah? Are you one of those people who thinks they need to prove something?« Cormac grins, as if he's asking a hidden question.

»What exactly are you trying to say?« My voice grows colder as I look at him. He seems amused by the topic.

»Nothing,« he says with a shrug. »I'm just wondering how you deal with people like him. You're probably better at it than you think.« He gives me a look that's both curious and slightly mocking.

I raise an eyebrow. »What do you have against Mattheo?«

Cormac now turns fully toward me. »What do I have against him?« He laughs softly, but it's a bitter, harsh laugh. »Not much. Just that he thinks too highly of himself.« His gaze sharpens as he likely relives the memory. »He thinks he can just manipulate everyone. But he's wrong.«

I feel a question rising within me, a question that has been bothering me for a while. »Why did you even fight?«

It's the kind of question that burns on the tip of my tongue, and I notice how my voice becomes calm, but harsh as I ask it.

Cormac casually leans against the railing, a self-satisfied grin on his face when he hears the question.

He clicks his tongue and looks at me as though he has a story to tell, one that amuses him a little.

»Oh, it wasn't really anything,« he finally says with a wide grin, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. »I just made a comment about some girl's sexy ass, and then Mattheo completely lost it. You know how he is. A little too sensitive, if you ask me.«

He makes a theatrical gesture with his hand, as if he's talking about some trivial incident, but I can see that he's enjoying himself.

»Which girl?« I ask before I really think about it. The words slip out of me as if it's a simple, inconsequential question, but I realize that somehow, I'm hoping for the answer without wanting to.

Cormac's grin widens even more as he leans back and taps his fingers in the air. »Oh, that's not important,« he says with a wink. »I just wanted to rile the guy up a bit, you know? And he did exactly that.«

My heart beats faster, and for a moment, an uncomfortable feeling takes over.

I try to push it away, telling myself I should really not care, but there's this cold, angry thought that creeps up on me.

»Which girl?« I repeat, trying to sound as indifferent as possible, as if I really don't care.

But I do.Somehow, I do.The fact that he's fighting over some girl makes me... I don't know what. But it pisses me off.

What the hell? I shouldn't give a damn! Get a grip, Sarah!

I shake my head, trying to shake off the feeling. It shouldn't matter to me which girl Mattheo is involved with. We're enemies. He and I. I shouldn't care what girls he has in his life, what he does with them.

And yet – something inside me wants the answer. Something I don't really want to understand.

But I want to know it anyway.

Cormac raises an eyebrow when he hears my question.

A sly smile spreads across his face, and he leans a little closer to me, as if he's about to tell me a secret.

»Oh, come on, you really want to know which girl it was?«, he asks, and there's a teasing tone in his voice, as if he enjoys making me squirm a little. »Sorry, but that remains my little secret.«

He winks at me, a self-satisfied grin that turns his answer into more of a game.

»Come on, Sarah«, he continues, while leaning back and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. »You should know I'm not exactly an open book when it comes to stuff like this.«

He looks directly into my eyes, and for a moment, everything feels a bit more intense than it should. The flirty undertone in his voice makes something inside me tingle, even though I don't want it to.

»But don't worry, you'll find out eventually. Maybe... someday«, he adds with a knowing smile.

I try not to let it shake me, but a feeling I can't really name rushes through me. Something I didn't want. And he notices. He's sure to notice.

I lean just a little closer to him, feeling how the space around us gradually dissolves as I see only him and the glowing sparkle in his eyes.

Something inside me is playing a dangerous game, and I let it happen – maybe it's curiosity, maybe it's the tingling sensation that wraps around me with every breath I take when I'm near him.

I know I should be wiser, but I can't help it.

»Oh, come on, Cormac«, I say, my voice almost like a promise that we both know may never be fulfilled.

My gaze stays locked on his eyes as my hands gently reach for the collar of his shirt.

The movement is deliberate, almost too fluid, and I can feel the tension between us intensifying.

He can't overlook this; I want him to feel it.

»I'm always so sweet, so well-behaved...« I let my gaze flicker briefly to his lips, then back to his eyes, as I move just a little closer to him.

My breath becomes slightly heavier, and I know he notices it.

But I deliberately keep the distance small – just enough to tease him without giving him anything.

I pull him a little closer to me.

My hands remain on his collar, and I'm aware of the closeness, the contact that almost feels electric.

The tension in the air is almost palpable as I lower my voice, almost to a whisper. »Just tell me your little secret...«

I can feel my heart beating a little faster, but I try not to show it. What is driving me to get so close to him? I can't decide if it's the adrenaline rush or just the unpredictable side of me that craves this dangerous game so much.

Especially after the last two weeks of pure terror.

He stays calm, but I can see his jaw muscles tighten, as if he's in an inner battle.

It's as if he can barely decide whether to challenge me or simply give in to the situation.

I lean a little further forward, the distance between us almost nonexistent. I can feel his warm breath on my skin, and I almost feel sorry that I'm holding him in this tension.

»Come on, Cormac,« I whisper again, this time softer, almost in a seductive tone I didn't intend. »You have nothing to lose, right?«

He meets my gaze, and for a moment it seems like he's about to crack, like he actually wants to tell me something.

I can feel his body vibrate slightly as he stands near me, and I can't deny it:

I like it.I like having this control, this game I'm winning without even realizing it.But I don't like him.I only like that he's playing along.

But then something changes in him. The tension remains, but he avoids my gaze and gives me only a confident grin.

A little too confident, as if he thinks he can get the answer from me that he's not willing to give himself.

»Oh, you're a bad girl, Potter... really bad,« he says with a mocking undertone, as if he's daring me to go even further.

But there's something in his voice I can't quite decipher – maybe a spark of relief, or maybe it's a sign that he simply doesn't want to engage in this game.

I laugh softly, but the sound isn't quite friendly. »I've heard you're a man of action, Cormac. But you shouldn't take everything I want. Sometimes no secrets are better.«

I loosen my grip on his collar, slowly letting the closeness fade away.

But my gaze lingers in his eyes for a moment, as if I'm waiting for him to give something away that he shouldn't.

But he doesn't.

The game isn't over yet. It's just begun.

I do feel a little bad for exploiting it so much.

I'd never go any further anyway; I've just had my first kiss.

But Pansy says so often,

'The best weapon against a man is his own lust.'

And maybe I just need to take a little more risk. Just flirting for my own gain, nothing more.

He's attractive, but not my type.So it can't hurt.

I can feel the tension in the air thickening again as I lean a little closer to him.

One step, then another smaller one, and I almost press him against the icy framework that surrounds us.

The cold of the metal feels like a contrast to the heat between us. My heart beats faster, and I can't help but enjoy it – the game that I'm creating.

»So you really have nothing to say? No secret you want to trust me with?« My voice is soft, challenging, almost a whisper, and I feel the closeness between us tightening.

I can hear his breath quicken, almost as if he's wondering how far I'd go. And I leave him with that question – I know I can push it to the limit.

I lean even further forward, and for a moment, it feels like our lips are almost touching – just a tiny distance.

My mind tells me not to overdo it, that it's just a game, that he and I will never be more than that.

But something inside me tells me he should feel exactly that – how close I am to him, but how far I can still pull back.

It's all a game, a harmless game I don't even take seriously. Because even if he touches me or gets close to me, he'll never get anything real.

I would never let someone like him get that close.

It's just the desire to see how he reacts when I play with him.

But then, almost without warning, the moment shifts.

With a quick movement, he spins me around, so I'm suddenly pressed against the cold, hard railing.

A surprised breath escapes me as I feel the metal's chill against my back, but it doesn't hurt – on the contrary, it makes me alert as I look into his eyes.

His hands rest on my shoulders, and the space between us is almost nonexistent.

I can feel him taking control, continuing the game he's so good at.

The air between us is heavy, charged, and I notice my heart beating faster.

I look up and see the expression in his eyes – that look he only gives when he truly knows he's holding all the cards.

»You're pretty bold, Potter,« he says quietly, and I notice he's moving even closer.

The moment is so intense that I almost forget why I'm doing this at all.

But I remain calm. I control myself, even though my thoughts are racing in every direction.

»Is that what you really want?« he whispers. »Do you really enjoy playing with me, or will it eventually mean more to you, Sarah?«

I swallow briefly, but hide it behind a challenging smile. »Maybe I just want to know how far you can go, Cormac,« I reply, my voice just as confident, though something flickers deep inside me.

But then I feel it – the pressing moment that keeps us both in suspense. The closeness between us makes me almost forget that this is nothing more than a game.

I can feel him seeing through me – his eyes have that sharp, almost challenging look, as if he's finally caught me in a moment of weakness.

His words, laced with a slight, almost charming seduction, send a shiver down my spine, even though I tell myself not to allow it. But what he says hits deep.

»Or is sweet Potter playing extra sexy, using my own man hormones to get me to tell her the girl's name?«

His voice is deep, seductive, and I know exactly that he knows what he's triggering.

I see his lips curl into an almost amused smile.

The narrow gap between us makes my heart race, and I can feel how he knows exactly what I'm trying to do.

He knows I'm playing him, but he also knows that I'm not invulnerable – that, as confident as I appear, there's a part of me that longs for this kind of closeness.

I try not to let it distract me, not to weaken in this moment, so I throw him a cold glance and hold the distance I can still maintain between us. But it's getting harder. It's getting harder because he says every word with the perfect mix of challenge and seduction.

»You talk a lot, Cormac,« I say, my voice calm, but my hand shakes slightly as I place it on the frame. »Sounds almost like you're enjoying pushing me in this direction.«

I pull my lips into a thin smile, but inside, something is boiling. What he said hit a nerve.

Something inside me, sinking into the darkness of these words, makes me somehow angry.

Maybe it's the fact that he saw through me.

Maybe it's the game he's playing with me, and maybe... maybe it's the idea that he's treating me this way, the way he is.

But I won't show him weakness.

I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words really hit me. I need to maintain this facade.

»You're probably right,« I reply eventually, my voice almost a little colder than before. »But maybe you shouldn't delude yourself, Cormac. I'm not like the other girls you're used to.«

At that moment, I notice him leaning back slightly, as if he understands the challenge in my words. But I also see the flickering fire in his eyes.

He knows how to play with me, and he knows I'm just as good at this game.

But here's the worst part: It's not over yet, and it feels like I don't even know how to get out of this, without either it completely derailing or me losing myself.

But then, with a quick movement, I feel him leaning a little closer again. And I realize how he's invading my space more and more.

Cormac is closer now, and I can feel his breath on my neck.

I can feel him leaning more and more toward me, his body pressing against mine.

His hands grab my wrists, firmer than I expected, and in this moment, I feel his muscles pressing against me, his chest against mine.

The space between us suddenly no longer exists — his touch is almost too intense, as if he wants to completely consume me.

But then I hear it — the hissing.

A flat, dangerous sound that comes from deep within my arm.

I feel the vibration, as if something is stirring, as if the markings on my skin are rising.

The snake — the Dark Mark — twitches on my arm.

And before I can even react, I'm painfully reminded of what that means.

The hissing grows louder as the magical mark on my arm turns into an even more tangible threat. The snake coils itself around my arm like a real, living creature, as if it's trying to burrow out of my skin.

A cold feeling creeps through my blood, and I feel that sharp pain from two weeks ago returning — that unbearable pulling that still lingers in my bones. The memory of the decision I made floods me. The memory of how I screamed for Mattheo.

Fuck. Mattheo.

That bastard needs to get the hell out of my head.

But Cormac notices it first. He stops everything.

For a moment, the tension between us freezes — a long, painful pause that nearly knocks the air from my lungs.

He looks down at my wrist, and his eyes widen.

Then he grins.

That shameless, smug grin that sends a chill down my spine.

»Holy shit... the Dark Mark,« he says softly, almost in awe.

A smile flickers across his lips as he still holds me, his hands now firmly gripping my wrists.

But what shakes me isn't the strength of his grip — it's his reaction that follows.

He doesn't seem startled in the slightest. No sign of fear, no dread of the danger the Mark carries.

Instead... instead of being afraid, he slightly turns me to face him.

»You know,« he says, his voice calm, almost amused, »I actually think it's kinda sexy, Sarah. So you really are on the dark side, huh?«

It takes a moment before I can even process the words.

What? How? Why... what the hell?

He's still grinning, but his eyes are gleaming. It's like he sees all of this as just another game.

As if the Dark Mark were something that suits him.

And the thought that he — so easily — accepts it as part of me, as if it's nothing more than another trait of my personality, completely throws me off balance.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. What am I even supposed to say?

Everything happens so fast that I can barely react. My heart is now pounding in a wilder rhythm as I try to collect myself.

Cormac, that damn guy, isn't afraid. He looks at me, at the Dark Mark on my arm, and he... he grins.

»Tell anyone, Cormac, and I swear I'll bury you alive,« I hiss, the words sharp like barbed wire.

The threat hangs in the air — heavy and almost tangible — and for the first time, I truly feel the weight of my own power.

But his response comes quickly, without hesitation.

He leans in, his eyes gleaming as he shoots me a look that nearly sets me on fire. »So... fucking... sexy,« he whispers, his voice deep and rough, and then he's suddenly there — his lips on mine — and everything blurs.

The world around me disappears, and for a moment... for a brief moment... it feels like I could drown in him.

I know I shouldn't be playing this game with him, that this is all just a distraction, but it's too late.

It just happens.

We kiss.

Our bodies find each other, and I can feel the burning moment that sparks between us. The tension wrapping around us is so intense, I almost forget what's happening, almost forget that I'm caught in a damn spiral of complications.

It turned into a goddamn make-out session.

But when his hand slowly, almost teasingly, moves toward the hem of my school uniform skirt, it shatters everything inside me. A cold shiver runs down my spine, and a wave of fear crashes over me.

It even flashes in that same moment.

I know what he wants.I know where this is heading — and I don't want it. Not now. Not here.

In a panicked reflex, I push him away — more out of helplessness than any clear decision.

My body trembles, and the confidence I seemed to have just moments ago is gone.

I can't pretend anymore — can't pretend it's just a game, that it's simple.

I can't keep acting sexy. I can't keep flirting. The fear grips me too tightly.

»I... I have to go,« I stammer, the words nearly catching in my throat as I turn away from him.

He rolls his eyes, like he's seen this before, like he expected it. »Come on, Sarah, be a good girl for me...it won't take long.«

He reaches for me, tries to pull me back, but in that moment, it's too much.

The thought of staying near him any longer, of losing control, is too terrifying.

I tear myself free, my legs moving before I can stop them, and then I'm running down the stairs without looking back.

The cold air hits my face as I get farther and farther away from him — as if I'm fleeing everything that threatens to suffocate me in that moment.

𓆗

The sun barely breaks through the thick gray clouds as I slowly open my eyes.

For a moment, I don't know where I am. My head is pressed deep into the pillow, the blanket pulled over my shoulder — and it's... quiet.

No tossing and turning.No restless thoughts.No whispers in my head. Just silence. And me?

I slept. Finally.

A soft, surprised sigh escapes my lips. I roll onto my back and blink against the dim light filtering in through the Slytherin window.

My gaze lands on the bed opposite mine. Empty. Pansy's already gone.

I slowly sit up and stretch.

My back cracks softly, and my head doesn't feel as heavy as usual.

No dizziness.No pressure in my chest.

I... feel good?

At least better than the past two weeks.Even though the thing with Cormac won't leave my mind.

‚be a good girl for me, it won't take long,

It's almost eerie how clear everything suddenly seems.

A small, folded piece of parchment on my nightstand catches my attention.

I reach for it and immediately recognize Pansy's neat, sweeping handwriting.

»Theo and I have to meet Snape in his office first thing, wish us luck — see you at breakfast xoxo – Pans.«

I exhale a small snort through my nose.Of course.

Those two and their suspicious secret missions — one day, Snape will either kill them, or they'll kill him.

I let the note fall back onto my pillow, reach for my glasses, and put them on. The world sharpens into clearer shapes.

I stand up, releasing a small yawn, and glance at my school uniform neatly hanging over the chair.

I smooth out the fabric and begin to get dressed.

Inside me, the surprise still lingers — that I slept. Deeply. Without nightmares.

Without feeling the Mark, without Mattheo's gaze burning on my skin, without guilt clawing me awake all night.

I glance in the mirror as I fasten the last button of my blouse.

My hair is a mess, my expression looks tired — but a different kind of tired. Not broken. Not drained. Just... normal.

It's Thursday, I remind myself.A damn normal Thursday.And I feel okay.Maybe that's already a small victory.

I grab my bag, throw my cloak over my shoulders, and leave the room with a small, almost disbelieving smile on my lips.

But the moment I step into the Great Hall, the air is knocked out of my lungs.

It's not like usual.Not the typical dull morning murmur, the clinking of cutlery, or the annoyed faces of tired students.

No. This time, everything suddenly falls silent.And then... the whispers. The looks.

All eyes are on me.

A strange tension spreads in my chest — confused, alert. I walk slowly through the Hall, my gaze flicking briefly to Gryffindor — Harry immediately looks away — and then I keep going.

Everyone... everyone is staring at me.

And it's not the kind of attention I'm used to.

It's razor-sharp. Hungry. Judging.

Don't get me wrong — I really don't think I'm interesting enough for the whole school to be looking at me, but something is definitely different.

What the hell is going on?

I drop down beside Pansy at the Slytherin table and it happens instantly.

Everyone starts talking at once. Like a dam breaking. Voices tumble over one another, hands flail, questions bombard me from all sides.

»Sarah, is it true—?«»With Cormac?!«»—heard you were up on the tower—«»Mattheo almost killed him—«»SEX—«»Cormac McLaggen—«

»Woah! Woah! Everyone calm the hell down!« My voice cracks across the table like a whip as I raise my hands in surrender. Silence falls instantly.

I stare at them, breathing heavily, my heart suddenly pounding like crazy. And then... two words cut through everything.

»Sex.«»Cormac McLaggen.«

I blink. »What... the hell?«

Enzo leans across the table, raises an eyebrow, and slowly pulls a piece of toast into his mouth.

»Oh baby... read the Hogwarts Herald.«

And then Draco silently slides something in front of me.

The cover of the Student Prophet stares right up at me.

A blurry photo of me and Cormac on the Astronomy Tower. Way too close. Shadows. Lips. Hands. Skin.

Snapped exactly at the moment when his hand was dangerously close to the hem of my skirt.

Below it, a huge bold headline:

Scandal! Sarah Potter – little sister of the famous Harry Potter – caught in a steamy tower moment! Gryffindor's star player and Slytherin's innocent Princess in intimate night encounter!

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Riddle rise from the table.

Without a word.

No glance. No sound. He just stood up—and left.

The bench creaked softly beneath his movement. His robes swayed slightly as he strode through the Hall and disappeared.

No one said a word.

No one stopped him.

I just sat there. Breathing shallowly. I ripped the parchment in my hand—loudly, wildly, full of fury.

»What the hell is going on with Mattheo?« Blaise was the first to break the silence his exit had left behind.

His voice wasn't loud, but it was charged.

He looked toward the door Mattheo had just vanished through, then back at me. »He's... completely out of it.«

»THANK YOU!«, Pansy cried dramatically, throwing up her hands. »You're finally seeing it too, huh? I've been saying it all week: Mattheo is acting weird. Completely unhinged. And it's ALWAYS because of Sarah!«

I flinched.»Pansy—«

»No, no, darling, you're going to listen now,« Theo cut in with a crooked grin, leaning back like he was getting ready for a delicious little analysis. »She's right. Every single time something happens with you, Sarah, Mattheo reacts like a bloody psychopath on coke. Remember the thing with your brother? And after the Quidditch match? And—«

»He wanted to kill Cormac,« Blaise added dryly. »And no one knew why. I thought it was some Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry thing. But after what I saw this morning...«

»Nothing happened! We didn't do anything! I pushed him away after!« I shouted, but everyone ignored it.

»He got up without a word,« Enzo muttered, frowning. »Not even you can pull that off so coldly, Draco.«

Every head turned to Draco, who sat frozen beside me, his hands flat on the table, eyes blank.

He didn't look at anyone.But I saw his jaw clench.

»That's bullshit,« he finally said sharply. »Mattheo doesn't care about anyone. And he sure as hell doesn't care about Sarah.«

I turned to him.»Thanks, Draco—«

»Because he doesn't need anyone,« he continued, as if I hadn't spoken. »He's got other things on his mind. Bigger things. You're all talking like this is some dumb teenage romance.«

»Well, if it's not that,« Blaise chimed in mockingly, »then you tell me why he loses his temper over every little thing when it comes to Sarah. Why he looks like he's burning alive the second she enters the room. Or why he just stood up and left when the paper came this morning.«

»Not because I was with Cormac on the Astronomy Tower,« I threw in—too loud. Too defensive. »And it was nothing! I... I just... I don't even know why someone photographed that!«

»You're nervous,« Theo noted with a grin.

»I'm annoyed!« I snapped.

»By what exactly?« Enzo asked.

»By all of you!« I yelled. »You talk like you know what's going on between Mattheo and me! But there's NOTHING! We hate each other! Remember? I can't stand him—and he can't stand me!«

Pansy shook her head slowly, like I was a foolish child.»Sarah... come on. If you really hate each other, then why are you always the only one who can calm him down?«

I opened my mouth. Closed it again.My thoughts were racing.

I knew what I should say. I knew what I had to say to end this.

But my heart was pounding too loud.

»It's nothing,« I finally whispered. »Nothing.«

And the worst part is—I don't know if I still believe that.

Draco shoved his plate away without having touched it.

»Believe whatever you want,« I said sharply, even though my heart was already hammering again. »Mattheo Riddle and I—we're not friends. We're not lovers. We're not even neutral acquaintances. We hate each other, okay? We always have. I'll gladly remind you he once broke my arm.«

Pansy grimaced.Theo raised a brow.Enzo let out a soft »Ouch.«

Draco said nothing. But his jaw was clenched so tight, it looked like he might grind his own teeth to dust.

»And in case you didn't know,« I continued, my voice sounding more bitter than I meant, »he's also slapped me before. So spare me your romantic theories. I'm not starring in some messed-up love drama.«

»Would make a good story, though,« Blaise murmured. »Hate, passion, violence, sexy young wizards...«

I scoffed.»Not funny, Blaise.«

Draco stood up. Abruptly.

His chair screeched loudly against the floor. I turned to him, but he didn't look back.

His shoulders were stiff, his hands clenched into fists.

He left the Great Hall just like Mattheo—without a word.

I stared after him, frowning.

»What the hell is his problem now?« I asked finally, more to myself than anyone else.

No one says anything. Not a single word.

Pansy and Theo exchanged a glance. Blaise sighed and deliberately looked away. Enzo chewed on his bread roll like it had just saved his life.

No one said a thing.

And no one said what they were all thinking:

That Mattheo acted like a lunatic whenever I was around.And that Draco hated it.

I was never the kind of girl who believed in that whole »Oh my god! So many boys are into me! But I just can't choose between my thousand love interests« thing—like in those messed-up fanfictions or bad teenage romances where everyone finds the protagonist sexy and irresistible.

I'm normal.I'm just me.

And still, these guys—guys I've known for what feels like five school years—are acting insanely weird.

Plus, now I also have to confront the person who writes the Student Prophet.

Oh, dear Salazar...

But then I notice something, someone.., just right next to the door of the Great Hall.

Wait...It can't be...Is that...