God, you hate him so much. His smile, his laugh, his words, the way he acts yet you crave him. He felt the same way and that's how your little arrangement came to be. A hookup.

You push his arms off you to get dressed. You feel his eyes on you, he has his covers covering his lower body, half-naked on his bed. "What are we, hm?" He asks, tilting his head as he checks you out.

"Just...friends" You respond. You can't be with him. He's the son of Voldemort, The Mattheo Riddle, and you're...