i.
"Who knew I'd find you here in detention of all places, Forbes?" Klaus Mikaelson asks in that smug, smug voice, and Caroline wants to punch him in his pretty face.
No, really.
A large, violet bruise would mar the perfect symmetry of his stormy eyes and stupid dimples, and she wouldn't feel so guilty about her constant staring, not when everyone else was too.
Instead, she settles for a brusque "Fuck off, Mikaelson."
"Rude." He smirks, and, with those soft, pink lips…
Caroline drops the cauldron she was supposed to be cleaning, and it hurtles down towards her foot, and she's too busy fuming and daydreaming to react in time.
Luckily, for Caroline's foot and for Gryffindor's Quidditch season, Klaus diverts the cauldron's course with a quick and silent swish of his wand, floating it back onto the table. "Don't want to lose that foot," he advices. "It's be a poor play for Gryffindor to lose their Keeper before the start of the season because she was distracted."
"What do you want, Mikaelson?" Caroline growls as she snatches the cauldron back into her arms and scrubs vigorously with her sudsy cloth at an invisible stain.
"Really, love? What's with the tone? I thought relations between the two of us would have improved after the events of this summer."
Ah, yes.
This summer.
One of the worst mistakes of Caroline's mind.
No, that's not fair.
The sex wasn't even that bad; in fact, it had been amongst the best of Caroline's short life and would have been the best if she hadn't slept with that one cute Muggle shopgirl the summer before sixth year.
This mistake in particular had occurred at Katherine Pierce's engagement party as she celebrated her upcoming marriage to Klaus' older brother Elijah.
Caroline had been tipsy on Firewhiskey, and Klaus had drained more flutes of champagne than he could care to admit, and they had locked eyes and gone through their usual stages of banter, then intimate teasing, and, finally, sexual tension thick enough to cut through with a knife.
But, this time, the sexual tension had won, and, the next thing Caroline knew, Klaus was slamming her against a hotel room door and ravishing her mouth in a brutal kiss.
Her dress hit the floor in a heap of cream-colored silk and lace, and, together, they struggled to squeeze Klaus out of his Muggle-style tuxedo.
Then Caroline was man-handling Klaus onto the expansive bed, and her lingerie joined her dress on the carpet, and the rest was history.
Now, four months later and a million miles away, Caroline shivers as she drags her mind away from the dirty montage of their fucking.
"That," she tells Klaus almost primly, "was a mistake."
"It didn't seem like a mistake at the time," Klaus says contradictorily. "As I vividly remember, you gave your very enthusiastic consent."
She flushes angrily, her hand unconsciously twitching for her wand. Sadly, it's locked away while she plays Muggle, cleaning cauldrons without magic, all because she hexed Tristan de Martel outside the Great Hall. "There were several factors at play, Mikaelson, and you know that. We were both under the influence, or you wouldn't have told me certain things."
Now, there's a slight reddening to his cheeks that Caroline's sure she isn't imagining.
"You're lying," he says confidently.
Caroline raises an elegant eyebrow. "Am I, sweetheart? I mean, would Elijah like to know that you were the one who anonymously tipped him off about Hayley's affair? Or, that you slept with her afterwards? I also know that you wish you had met your birth father before he died."
Klaus stiffens, shoulders tensing and expression wide-eyed. He gulps, looking open and vulnerable and flustered, and Caroline feels almost guilty.
Then his guard is back up, and his face closes back off. "Shut up," he hisses. "You know nothing, Forbes."
Still, Caroline and her fucking mouth could never help themselves.
"I think I know enough, Mikaelson. Remember? Loose lips sink ships? And you never forgave yourself with destroying your parents' marriage after you accidentally outed your mother's affair."
"Shut up!" he nearly yells, lips in a tight firm line, hands curled in fists by his side.
Klaus surges forward, and Caroline steadies herself for confrontation, but he only crushes his mouth to hers in an angry kiss.
His mouth is merciless, relentless in chasing hers, and he presses down on her shoulders hard enough that she knows that her skin will bruise in the shape of his hands, and her arms wind up around his neck, and her hands finds purchase in the unruly curls of his hair, and she gives them a savage yank, and he nips her bottom lip with ruthless intent in retaliation.
It's desperate and passionate and three years of sexual tension and pining culminating for the second time, and Caroline's body begins to overheat underneath both her robes and uniforms as a line of sweat trickles down her neck.
Her hands slip between their bodies to unbutton her robes, and Klaus realizes her intent and rushes to aid her and bumps into a table.
Her bowl of cleaning solution is knocked to the floor with a clatter as the liquid spills onto the stone.
The noise reverberates in Caroline's ears, and she freezes, hands hovering over her third button.
What the fuck is she doing?
Klaus steps back, recognizing her hesitation. "Caroline," he says softly.
"No," Caroline hisses. She shakes her head, carding her hands through her hair with frustration. "Just get out of here, Mikaelson," she tells him gruffly. "Go."
Klaus doesn't need to be told twice, and, with a whirl of his robes, he faces the door and marches out of the Potions classroom.
With trembling fingers, Caroline rebuttons her robes and then sinks to the floor in a slump, her face clutched in her hands.
/
Caroline leans back against the enormous iron wrought headboard, its edges digging into her bare back in a way that will leave imprints, but she can't bring herself to care, still drunk off endorphins and the alcohol and the high of her climax.
Klaus settles into the nest of blankets besides her, his shoulder brushing against her arm. He has a dopey smile fixed on his face, an expression so unguarded and vulnerable that Caroline wishes he would display more often because it makes the blue of his ocean eyes even bluer.
God, she sounds so lovesick.
"Well, we certainly made a mess," she says, much more loudly than she intended to.
She had been referring to their clothes scattered around the room and the blankets shoved half-way to the ground, but Klaus' stare unabashedly drifts down her body. "Yes, we certainly did," he replies, his voice huskier than she has ever heard it before but still so smooth like the caramel on the cake they had been gorging on only hours previous. "You, sweetheart, made a lovely canvas."
Her own gaze drops down to the countless bitemarks and hickeys that mark the skin of her neck, breasts, and thighs, and her ears burn as her cheeks pinken.
"Shut it," she orders as she swats at his head.
He ducks and shoots her a playful smile. "I don't think I will, Caroline."
Her name is gentle and flows sweetly from his lips, and, for some reason, her heart skips a beat.
Rolling her eyes, Caroline ignores him and refocuses her somewhat blurry attention on the ice bucket across the room. "Hold on," she tells him, hand flailing for her wand. She nearly knocks it off the nightstand, her coordination fucked by the alcohol, but manages to latch on to it at the last moment. She points it at the ice bucket with unsteady fingers. "Accio champagne."
Nothing happens.
Klaus laughs from the unexpectedness of it, and Caroline whines, falling back onto the bed.
"It's not working," she complains with a pout. "Why isn't it working?"
"Alcohol impairs a wizard or witch's control over their magic," he recites verbatim in between fits of laughter.
Caroline whines again, curling her lips to make her pout even more pronounced.
"Here," Klaus says roughly, "let me try."
He plants a full-mouthed kiss on her mouth, hands drifting to stroke tenderly at her temples, before straightening up and grabbing his wand. He grips it shakily but still manages to mutter loudly and clearly, "Accio champagne."
With a jolt, the champagne bolt lifts from the ice bucket and flies towards them, landing unevenly on the bed before tilting backwards. Klaus catches the bottle before it slips to the ground.
"How are we supposed to drink that?" Caroline asks, snatching the bottle from Klaus' arms and pressing the cool glass to her cheek. She sighs, sinking further into the welcoming plushness of the bed.
"Like this, love." Klaus gently eases the bottle from her and holds it a few feet away from himself. He drops his wand back onto the nightstand. "Watch this."
He mutters no incantation under his breath, but the bottle's cork still flies off with a loud pop and lands on the opposite side of the room.
"Impressive," Caroline drawls. "Wandless and non-verbal magic."
"I've been practicing," Klaus says seductively, an attempt which would have been more effective if his speech wasn't audibly slurring.
"Shut up." Caroline leans forward, falling onto her hands and knees, and wraps her lips around the bottle, prying it easily from Klaus' hands. The champagne explodes across her tongue, sharp, bubbly, and sweet. "This is good. Where'd Katherine find this?"
Shrugging, Klaus takes the bottle from her and chugs the alcohol like one would chug beer; they are both too wasted to give a shit about propriety and manners. "I dunno. What does matter is that we finish this bottle."
And, they do, passing it between themselves, drinking in silence but sharing soft glances and smiles in the moments between.
"That sex was so…" Caroline begins but trails off, at a loss of words.
"I know, love." Klaus nods silently, finishing off the last of the champagne with a gulp.
Caroline watches his Adam's apple bob attractively, and, then, her eyes wander to the scratches her nails scores into his chest. "Why didn't we do this before?"
"We could never stop hating each other," Klaus jokes, but there's a darker underlying tone to his words.
"I don't hate you," she blurts, and they are both stunned into silence by her sudden confession, but the words keep spilling from her mouth. "I've never hated you. Despite all that we've done to each other, I could never hate you. I feel drawn to you. And, yes, I cover our connection with hostility, because, yes, I hate myself for the truth. But I've never hated you, and I never will be able to."
In the silence that ensues, Caroline's chest begins to close in, her throat drying, until Klaus finally speaks:
"Sweetheart, you're strong, beautiful, full of light. You're a flame burning so bright that I must turn away from, because, if I give in, I will either snuff you out or you will burn me."
She stares down at him breathlessly, eyes wide, mouth gaping, visibly touched. "So, this entire time, we've been two idiots who could never pulls their heads from their asses enough to realize that we have feelings for each other," she whispers softly.
Klaus chuckles, partly out of relief. "That's one way to put it."
"God," she exclaims loudly to the ceiling. "We're such idiots!"
With swift movements, she yanks Klaus' head up to kiss him fiercely.
They roll over in the sheet, spending hours kissing and basking in the comfort of each other until the influence of the champagne and tiredness catches up to them.
/
When morning comes, a delirious Caroline will rouse to the sun's brightness filtering past her tightly-shut eyelids. She will toss to the side, hoping to escape the light, and will come face-to-face with the boy her heart will never allow her to hate.
Shaken, memories hazy, Caroline will slip from his embrace and will dress hastily, sliding her wand into her purse and fleeing from the hotel.
Klaus will awaken to the sound of the hotel door slamming shut, and he will groan and reach out for the warmth of another body, only to find the bed empty. He will push himself, leaning on his elbows, and his gaze will travel down his body to examine the marks littering his skin.
As will Caroline's as she swiftly attempts to remove said marks using magic in a bathroom in the hotel lobby.
Both their minds will only remember flashes: the party, their gazes meeting across the ballroom, snatches of their conversations, the first kiss.
Neither will be able to recall the interaction afterwards, the one where everything changed.
Both will try to return to life as normal, but they will no longer be able to remain in their fixed orbits when gravity already brought them crashing together.
/