Lexi

Two weeks later:

The corridor is empty, the silence broken only by our breathing. It's late, the castle eerily quiet, and we're pressed together in a tiny nook, shielded from view by a heavy tapestry. My heart is racing, my body pressed tight against his, the thrill of knowing we could be caught at any moment only adding to the excitement coursing through me. He has me cornered, his body trapping me against the wall, his arms caging me in. His eyes are dark with desire, his gaze roaming over my face, taking in every small detail. He looks like he's trying to memorize every inch of me, as if he can't get enough. His hands are on my waist, his grip tight, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over my skin. I look into the boy's brown eyes and smile. He smiles back, the corners of his mouth curving up in a sly, captivating grin. His hand moves slowly up my side, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His fingers finally reach my face, tracing the outline of my jaw, his touch gentle yet possessive. "What are you thinking about?" I whisper. He looks into my eyes, his expression turning slightly serious. His thumb brushes along my bottom lip, his touch gentle but firm. "Right now, I'm thinking...” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "I'm thinking that I want you. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

He lets out a huff of annoyance as he's pushed away, his eyes full of disappointment as he reluctantly steps back. But his expression quickly shifts to concern as he sees the color drain from my face. He can hear the footsteps, too, and he tenses, his body going rigid as he listens intently, before quickly rearranging his own appearance, his expression schooled into a cool nonchalance. The footsteps grow louder, echoing through the corridor. We stand there, trying to act natural, as if we hadn't been just seconds away from getting completely naked here in the hallway. The owner of the footsteps comes into view - Professor McGonagall. She looks up as she rounds the corner, her sharp eyes taking us in. We stand there, trying to appear calm and collected, as if we hadn't been caught in a very compromising position.

P-P-Professor....W-What a suprise" the color draining from my face. McGonagall's eyes narrow as she looks between the two of us. There's a hint of suspicion in her expression as if she knows exactly what we've been doing "I'm sure it is," she says lifting an eyebrow, peering at us over the rim of her glasses. She looks unimpressed, her lips pursed in a thin line. "Miss Taylor, Mr. Riddle," she says, her tone icy. "What are you doing out here at this hour? Alone?"  Me and Mattheo exchange a quick glance, neither of us sure what to say. Professor McGonagall continues to look at us, a mixture of irritation and suspicion in her gaze. "Well?" she prompts, her hands on her hips. "I'm waiting." 

"Um...we were...um" I stutter, my brain deciding to not work with me, fine time to not be able to think. Professor McGonagall's eyebrow rises even higher, her eyes narrowing as she takes in our nervous behavior. She crosses her arms over her chest, her expression stern. "Let me save you from straining yourselves. You were out of your dorms for reasons I'm sure I don't want to know about. Am I correct?" I can do nothing but nod, my face growing hotter under her intense gaze. Professor McGonagall lets out a sigh, her expression turning weary. "I thought as much. You do realize I have to dock points for this, don't you?" I nod again 'Shit, people are going to wonder why the randomly lost house points' "Fifty points from Slytherin," she announces, her voice firm startling me out of my thoughts. "And a detention for each of you."

"WHAT?? DETENTION???" I've never had a single detention all my years being at Hogwarts,  I guess my mouth was hanging open when she mentioned it, "Yes, Miss Taylor, that's what happens when you break the rules,” she says. “Fifty points and a detention. Consider yourselves lucky I’m not giving you a week of detentions each." I open my mouth, intending to protest or at least make some kind of argument, but Professor McGonagall cuts me off. "Save your excuses and explanations,” she cuts in before I can say a word. “I’ve heard it all before, and I’m not interested in hearing any more. You both broke the rules, and now you’ll face the consequences.” I shut my mouth, my protest dying in my throat. I can feel my face burning, a mixture of embarrassment and anger rising within me. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, noticing that he seems much more subdued than usual, his expression closed off.  Professor McGonagall gazes at us both for another moment, her eyes sharp and scrutinizing. She looks like she's waiting for us to say something else, but when we remain silent, she lets out another weary sigh. "Now, get back to your dorms," she instructs. "And I trust I won't be finding the two of you out past curefew." With one last stern look, Professor McGonagall strides past us, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. We're left alone, the silence of the hallway deafening after our encounter with her.

 "I have to go" I mumble pushing past him, but before I can get anywhere he grabs my wrist, stopping me "Wait, Lex..." he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "We need to talk." At the sound of that nickname, a painful knot formed in the pit of my stomach "What did you just say?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. A look of confusion is on his face as he stutters "I...I just..." clearly caught off guard by my reaction. "I said your name...Lex..."He says it again, softer this time, as if he's testing the word on his tongue. It's then that he notices the change in my expression, my face paling at the familiar sound of the nickname. He looks confused, and vaguely hurt, by my reaction. He lets go of my wrist, his hand dropping to his side as he regards me with a mixture of puzzlement and concern. "Why...?" he asks, his voice quiet. "What's wrong with calling you that?" I don't say anything...how can I...How do you tell someone that, something as stupid as nicknames have been ruined for you, because of someone's shitty actions. All I can do is avoid, avoid, and hope that it never shows up again. "I have to go" He can clearly see my reluctance to answer, and a flicker of hurt passes over his face. He steps closer, his eyes searching my face, trying to read me. His hand reaches out, almost as if he's going to touch me, but then he stops himself, letting it fall back to his side. "Lexi..." he says, his voice low and pleading. "You have to talk to me. You can't just shut me out like this." I look at him, i want to tell him. I do. But i can't. I feel a rush of anger run through me, I don't know why, maybe its because I've fallen hard for this boy. Maybe it's because I can feel myself wanting to let my walls down, and the thought of it terrifies me, "I don't have to tell you shit. What just because we almost fucked means you have a right to know everything?" I snap."I don't owe you anything" 

His eyes widen at my outburst, stunned at the sudden anger in my voice. He recovers quickly, his expression hardening as he steps closer to me, his voice taking on a hard edge. "You're right, you don't owe me anything," he replies, his voice low and intense. "But don't stand here and act like you're not feeling something for me too. You can deny it all you want, but I know you feel it." I glare at him, 'damn it! how does he do that' "You don't know what i feel" i snap back "What just happend was a mistake. A mistake i don't plan on doing again" He gazes at me with a mixture of disbelief and hurt. His jaw clenches, his eyes flickering with a mix of anger and disappointment. "A mistake, huh?" he retorts, his voice cold. "Is that what this was to you? Just a stupid mistake?" 

"Yes" I glare "Now if you don't mind, i need to go, i don't want another bloody detention." I  huff and shove past him, 'I need to get away. Anywhere is fine. I just can't be here. He grabs my arm again, rougher this time, his fingers digging into my skin as he stops me from moving away. "Hold on, you're not getting away that easily," he growls. "We're not done talking about this." I look at him, then at his hand, the audacity of this boy! "Bloody let go of me" I snap, getting more and more annoyed "yes! Yes we are done here"  He doesn't let go, his grip tightening on my arm as he draws me closer to him, his eyes flashing with defiance. "Hell no, we're not. You don't get to just blow this off like it didn't happen. We have something between us, and you know it."

"What are you fucking talking about?" I hiss "There is nothing!" He laughs bitterly, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Oh, really? So all that time we spent together, everything that's happened between us, it was just all in my head, was it? Nothing?" He moves closer, his body inches from mine. "You're lying to yourself, and you know it. You can act like you don't feel anything, but I see the way you look at me. I see the way your body reacts when I touch you." He runs a finger down my arm, his touch soft but firm, sending a shiver down my spine that I cures myself for. "You can deny it all you want, but you can't control your body. And your body wants me, just as much as mine wants you." He trails his finger across my collarbone, my breath catching as his touch ignites a spark of desire. I fight to keep my expression neutral, my body betraying me despite my best efforts to stay angry at him. He leans in, his lips hovering just above my ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sends tingles down my spine. "Admit it, Lex," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. "Admit that you feel something for me. Stop trying to fight it." He senses the change in me as soon as he utters the nickname. He pulls back slightly, confusion and frustration flashing in his eyes. "What is it about that name that bothers you so much?" he asks, his voice edged with impatience. "Why do you react like that every time I call you 'Lex'?" There it is again. That bloody name. Lexs. God I'll never be able to bloody escape it.  I remain silent, my eyes shifting away from his gaze. I don't want to explain, don't want to relive the memories that come with that name. He grabs my chin, gently but firmly turning my face back to him.

 "Look at me," he orders, his voice firm. "Answer me. Why do you hate that name so much?" I look up at him, my expression guarded and my eyes filled with a mixture of anger and frustration. I bite my lip, torn between wanting to tell him everything and wanting to keep it all locked away. As I struggle with my emotions, a wave of anger washes over me, and I can't help but snap at him. "Fine. You want to know why I hate that name? You really want to know why it pisses me off so much when you call me 'Lex'?!" I take a step forward, my voice growing louder with each word, my emotions boiling over. "It pisses me off because that nickname was given to me by someone who hurt me! Someone who manipulated and controlled me until I didn't even know who I was anymore. Someone I trusted and thought loved me, but who turned out to be just another toxic douchebag." I continue to rant, venting all the anger and hurt I've held inside for months. The words spill out of me like a dam broken wide open, years of pent-up emotions pouring out in a flood of fury. "He made me feel like nothing, like I was just a possession he could use and discard whenever he wanted. He treated me like a toy, like something he could just play with and throw away when he was bored. He made me feel like I didn't matter, like I was worthless and stupid and weak. He controlled me, manipulated me, and tore me down until I didn't even recognize myself."

I ball my hands into fists, my nails digging into my skin "He made me think I was nothing more than a pathetic, needy, emotional mess who didn't deserve anything good in her life. He used that nickname to control me, to break me down and make me submit to his will. He made me think he was the only one who could ever love me, and that I should just be grateful that he even bothered to give me the time of day."  My voice grows shaky, tears blurring my vision as I remember the countless nights spent crying myself to sleep, wondering why I wasn't good enough, why I deserved to be treated like trash by someone who claimed to care about me. "He made me feel weak and powerless like I had no control over my own life or my own feelings. He used my love for him against me, using it like a weapon to manipulate and hurt me." I can feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks, each sob wracking my body like a shuddering wave. I feel so weak and exposed, like I'm falling apart in front of him. I can't stop the tears from coming, can't hold back the flood of emotions that have been building up inside me for months. Each sob feels like a punch to the gut, the pain and sorrow of the memories that are flooding back to me almost too much to bear. I hate that I'm crying like this in front of him, hate the way it makes me look so fragile.   I look up at him through tear-filled eyes, my body heaving with sobs. For a few moments, we just stand there, the only sound in the empty hallway the sound of my crying. Finally, I manage to speak, my voice shaky and broken. "You happy now? You got what you wanted. You wanted to know why I can't stand that nickname, and now you know. You happy...?"

He looks at me, his expression a mixture of guilt and concern. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out towards me, but I flinch away, my body still trembling from the force of my sobbing. "Lexi, I-" he starts to say, but I cut him off, my voice filled with a mix of anger and pain. "Don't," I say firmly, my eyes meeting his. "Just...don't. I don't want to hear it. I don't want your pity or your apologies or whatever you're thinking of saying right now." He looks taken aback by my sudden coldness, hurt flashing in his eyes. But he doesn't back off, doesn't let me push him away. "I just...I need to be alone right now," I murmur, my voice cracking. I try to push past him, to walk away, but he reaches out and grabs my arm again, stopping me. "No," he says firmly, pulling me back to face him. "No, you're not running away from me. Not this time. Not anymore." I struggle against his grip, tears still streaming down my face, my emotions still in turmoil. I don't want to be here, don't want to be having this conversation with him. I just want to be left alone to wallow in my misery in peace. He pulls me closer to him, his arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace. I resist at first, trying to pull away, but eventually I give in, burying my face in his chest and letting the tears flow freely.

He holds me tightly, one hand rubbing my back soothingly while the other rests on the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. I cling to him, my body still shaking with sobs, my tears soaking the front of his shirt.