Aw thank you! I’m glad 🥰

The last slice of tart raspberry cheesecake, earmarked for himself, eaten by his better half.

Devastating in its own way, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when he can still taste the raspberries on her tongue.

But sometimes, betrayal is quiet.

Today’s betrayal was the quiet sort.

Small, unspoken and careless.

For example, when the realisation finally dawns on you that your father is offering you up to the Dark Lord as collateral in order to save himself. That betrayal blares loud and clear.

This is like the time I was prompted to unpack why I liked the enemies to lovers trope so much… for someone to go from hating me and knowing my worst qualities and then managing to fall in love with me even with that knowledge feels like security…despite how impossible that would actually be…

And why shouldn’t he, it was a husband’s prerogative to pleasure his wife, after all. And it was a privilege that he took very seriously.

An indignant gasp escaped her pouting mouth, but her retort died soon after, as he shifted the angle of his hips just so, effectively ending any protests or discussion.

He knew her body better than anyone, ever had.

“Better. Much better. Now don’t let it happen again, or I’ll be forced to ruin your impending orgasm as punishment.” He purred, a sly grin upturning his lips.

The thumb was quickly withdrawn, replaced instead with a sharp slap to the side of her arse.

“Keep. Your. Eyes. On. Me.”

Amber eyes snapped open, clashing with the emerald set boring into them.

She huffed a laugh which quickly crested into a moan, as a rough thumb drew small circles on her clit, her eyes shutting as she leaned into the sensations.

“Y-yesss… oh Fuck!” She hissed, the drag of his cock on her inner walls heightening her pleasure.

“I thought you might. Brats tend to need a hands on approach” he ground out, grasping his hands on her hips tighter to emphasise his point.

He never even contemplated that she would walk away.

But, she was always so strong. He didn’t know it bothered her that much. She always insisted she was fine, that she had been handling the press since 4th year.

“Fuck.”

He knew it had been hard going. The press hounded them incessantly. The society pages loved to predict their break up, and often pulled quotes from the jealous harpies hoping to be next in line.

“I’m leaving. I can’t do this with you anymore. This is too hard.” She choked out.

Before he could answer she turned and exited the door with a slam. The pop of apparition sounded before he could even move.

Her midriff was exposed, her baby pink shirt having ridden up when she was gesticulating widely to make her points.

She was closest to the door.

Her curls were escaping from her top knot. Her wand poked through the crumbling structure so she wouldn’t be tempted to hex him. Tears gathered at her eyes, a few had tracked down her cheeks, ruining her blush.

His platinum strands were rumpled, sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing the faded dark mark on his left arm. He compulsively clenched and loosened his fists at his sides.