truce
30 January 1997
Mattheo’s POV
I make my way through the halls, music playing through the walkman I enchanted, as I head towards the Astronomy Tower. I’ve been dragged through a study session with Astoria most of the day and I need a cigarette badly.
As I reach the top of the tower, I pause not expecting to see anyone else up here in the cold. But standing there, silhouetted by the golden setting sun, is Euphemia Potter leaning against a stone pillar. Her hair looks like fire where the sun shines through it, and I figure she must be cold because she’s only in jeans and a dark sweater. “Aren’t you cold, Potter?” I ask, stepping closer and pushing my headphones to hang around my neck. Her head snaps towards me, startled by my voice and the sun highlights a tear trail down her pink cheeks. She turns away quickly, a hand wiping away the tears before she turns back to me.
“It’s not so bad in the sun,” she shrugs, her arms crossed over her chest, hands hidden in her sleeves. I lean against a stone pillar a few feet away from her and pull out a pack of cigarettes, lifting one to my lips and lighting the tip. I look out over the grounds and surrounding mountains, resisting the urge to look at the girl to my left.
“Any chance I can bum one of those?” Her voice, quiet and soft, pulls me from my thoughts, my eyes finding hers.
“You smoke?” I ask dubiously, raising an eyebrow. “I would’ve thought that beneath you, princess.”
“Maybe you should stop assuming things about me,” she responds, but there’s no malice in her voice but rather, it sounds more like a soft plea. I hold out the pack to her, both of us stepping closer to close the gap, and I watch her pull from the pack and lift it to her full lips. Before I can offer her my lighter, she snaps her fingers producing a small flame to light the tip. I watch, bewildered at the small display of wandless magic, and watch her take a deep inhale, her eyes closing as she exhales. Her head falls back against the stone at her back, grief and sadness in her eyes so intense I feel as if I’m intruding.
“So, what brings you up here besides the allure of bumming my smokes?” I ask, feeling the need to fill the silence and pull her out of whatever thoughts make her look this sad. Her eyes find mine and her lips turn up in a small smile.
“Allure of some peace and quiet actually,” she responds, covering the sadness with playfulness. “A cigarette is a consolation,” She lifts the cigarette to her lips and I can’t help but watch as she exhales the smoke slowly and as it curls around her, glowing golden in the light of the setting sun.
“What were you listening to?” she asks motioning toward the headphones around my neck.
“The Smiths,” I say quietly, surprising myself with my honestly. My enjoyment of Muggle music is something I keep close to my chest, not many people in my life would accept it and I’d rather not deal with the disappointment.
“You listen to The Smiths?” She asks, looking surprised.
“Yes,” I grumble, suddenly feeling defensive. She steps forward, reaching out to take the headphones from my neck and puts them on her own head before I can stop her. She listens for a moment, smiling slightly as the music washes over her.
“The Smiths are great. I like a lot of muggle music. I’m surprised you listen to it though,” she says, taking the headphones off and handing them back.
“Muggles’ artistry is better than ours. Music, literature, film,” I shrug, taking a drag of my cigarette and taking my headphones back, our fingers brushing as I do so.
“I agree,” Euphemia says, her eyes looking out over the grounds expanding below us. “It’s like… they don’t have magic so they create their own. They see the world differently than we do, and they have to create their own magic, find it in things like love or nature. Honestly, I’m not sure who is better off for it.” I watch as she looks out over the grounds, sadness returning to her eyes as she takes a deep inhale of smoke, her auburn hair swaying slightly as a cool breeze comes through.
“There’s a Muggle town near our house and I used to sneak out to go walk around, get out of the house. One day I wandered into this record store and… never wanted to leave,” I say quietly, looking out at the view to avoid Euphemia’s gaze.
“Really?” She asks, her voice sounding genuinely curious. I nod and take another drag.
“The shopkeeper eventually got sick of me coming in and listening but not buying anything so he gave me an old turntable and a couple damaged records he couldn’t sell. Hid them under the floorboards in my room,” I continue, chuckling slightly at the memory.
“Floorboard trick is a life saver. Our aunt and uncle would lock all our school things away during the summer so we couldn’t, I don’t know, hex them or whatever. So Harry and I would have to sneak down, grab a couple and do our summer work at night and hide it all in the floorboards during the day.” I turn to look at Euphemia as she talks, shaking her head at the memory. “They’ve never been smart enough to catch us,” she chuckles and takes one last drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out on the metal railing.
“I think my mum knows but doesn't want to make a fuss of it, I guess,” I shrug. Euphemia turns to look at me, our eyes meeting, and for a moment we don’t speak but just hold each other’s gaze.
“What’s your mum like?” She asks after a long moment, her eyes not leaving mine.
“Why?” I ask, wondering why on earth Euphemia Potter gives a shit about my mum.
“Curious,” she shrugs. I search her face and all I find is a genuine curiosity. I take a deep last inhale of my cigarette and flick it off the tower before answering.
“She’s like most mums, I guess. She does her best but being a Riddle… I think she’s lonely most of the time. No one remembers that it was an arranged marriage she had no say in, just that there was a marriage and who the groom was.”
“She was a Malfoy, right?”
“Do you know what your mum was like?” I blurt out, immediately regretting it as Euphemia’s eyes snap to me filled with shock and sadness.
“A little,” she nods. “Most people who talk about my parents just talk about how brave they were but they didn’t really know them. Professor Lupin,” she clenches the metal railing so tightly her knuckles turn white and she spits the professor’s name like it tastes poorly in her mouth, “knew her though. My dad too. Really, really well apparently.” Her tone turns bitter, her eyes avoiding mine as she looks off into the distance. The sun has now set behind the mountains, the light fading and turning blue rather than orange.
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. I’ve seen her interact with Lupin before and she always seemed to like him and vise versa; the anger in her voice shocks me. She looks at me for a moment before speaking.
“Nothing, they uh, were at school together I guess. Stayed friends after,” she shrugs and I have a feeling she’s not saying the full truth but I don’t press.
“I shouldn’t have asked, sorry,” I mutter quietly.
“You know, you’re not so bad when you’re not acting like a raging prick,” she says. Her tone is teasing me but I can tell she’s genuine, her eyes soft as they look at me.
“You’re not so bad either,” I say, feeling uncomfortable at the confession, her gaze making me feel raw and exposed.
“That hurt you to admit, didn’t it?”
“Shut up,” I say, looking away from her face but she laughs and my eyes are pulled back to her face. She laughs and it's like a revitalization potion and I wish I could bottle it and listen to it over and over. Her face is lit up with amusement and pride swells in my chest that I made her laugh like that. She looks at me with her laughing green eyes and suddenly I’m laughing with her.
“It took you long enough,” she teases, pushing her hair behind her ear. I track the movement with my eyes and I think she notices because her eyes dart away and suddenly, I feel almost weightless under her gaze. What the hell is wrong with me? “Truce?” She asks playfully.
“I think you’d lose your Gryffindor Princess rep if anyone heard you say that,” I quip but she just shrugs, looking over the now dark landscape. “Truce,” I agree.
“Careful, you’re gonna lose your bad boy cred, Mattheo,” she teases.
“Then I guess we’re both disgraced then, Euphemia,” I retort, turning so my body is facing her and smile mischievously.
“Mia. If you’re gonna use my first name just call me Mia,” she says, looking back at me and I realize how close we actually are to each other: close enough that I can smell the faint scent of her perfume and feel her hair brush past my face as a gust of wind blows past us.
We stand there in silence watching each other for a long moment and the rest of the world seems to drop away. But the moment is broken as laughter echoes up the stairs and I turn and see my friends climbing the last steps of the tower.
“Fuckin’ hell, mate, we’ve been looking everywhere-” Theo says, his voice cutting off as he sees me standing next to Mia, and he looks at me, eyebrows raised. Before I can say anything, Evan and Enzo reach the top of the tower, their expressions matching Theo’s as they notice Mia.
“Am I dreaming or is that you, Potter?” Even says, his eyes scanning Mia up and down hungrily.
“It’s me, Rosier, don’t cream your pants,” Mia shoots back, not missing a beat. I glance at her, the softness in her from moments ago gone and replaced by a disdainful smirk as she silently dares Evan to say anything else. Enzo and Theo snort a laugh. “I was just leaving,” she says, glancing my way before pushing her way past my friends and disappearing down the stairs. I sigh and lean back against the metal railing, crossing my arms.
“The fuck did we walk into?” Theo laughs, pulling out a cigarette.
“Nothing,” I growl.
“Dragon shit, you couldn’t cut the tension up here with a knife,” Enzo scoffs.
“Did you finally hit that?” Evan asks, a crude smile on his face that makes anger risse in my chest.
“Fuck off. She was here when I got here,” I snap, taking out another cigarette and lighting it.
“And yet you stayed,” Evan points out. “Four months ago you would’ve run her out or left.” I level Evan with a glare to back off.
“What was so urgent you were looking for me?” I ask, changing the subject.
“You missed dinner,” Enzo answers with a shrug, sitting on the steps of the platform on one side of the tower.
“Wasn’t hungry,” I grumble, taking another drag.
“For food at least,” Theo mumbles and I reach out and punch his shoulder, causing the others to laugh. “Shit man, nobody’s gonna blame you if you are into her.”
“Well, I’m not , okay?” I say sharply, but I’m not so sure I mean it anymore.