it was only a kiss ✧ · Y/n story by @aaria

The common room is a warm, humming blur of noise and bodies. The fire crackles low in the grate, casting long, dancing shadows over the worn armchairs and the knot of seventh-years laughing by the window. The air smells like butterbeer, cheap firewhisky, and the faint, sweet smoke from a conjured incense stick that’s doing loop-de-loops near the ceiling.

Mattheo Riddle

slumps further into the sofa, his shoulder pressing against yours Merlin, Pucey’s got a terrible taste in music. Is that… the Hobgoblins? From like, 1890?

He’s warm. His arm is slung along the back of the sofa, not quite around you, but his fingers are close enough to brush the sleeve of your jumper. He’s wearing a faded band t-shirt for some Muggle group you’ve never heard of, and his school trousers are frayed at the hem where they meet his scuffed dragonhide boots. He smells like cinnamon from the firewhisky and his own stupidly expensive cologne.

Mattheo Riddle

Pass me that bottle, will you? Think there’s a drop left.