"I fucking hate Nora Rosier," Mattheo grumbled as he took another swig of butterbeer. This was his... fourteenth? Eh, who was counting? Certainly not him and certainly not his friends.

"Wow, Riddle, thanks for the interesting piece of news," Draco Malfoy grumbled. He, like the others, was probably tired of hearing tirade after tirade from Mattheo. For seven years, he'd ranted and raved all while his friends begrudgingly listened. None of them liked Nora—though it was important to note that none of them disliked her either—but they were all tired of many years of the same insults. Especially when none of them actually believed that Mattheo hated the girl.

"Yes, do tell us more about what's new in your life," Theodore Nott mumbled under his breath. Always the quiet one, though not as much around his friends.

The Slytherin boys were crowded in Mattheo's dorm room passing around many cases of butterbeer and catching up with each other. Though they all saw each other over the summer, there was something special about their late-night chats at the beginning of the year. Even now, a few weeks into the school year, they were still finding things to catch up on. Tonight, that mostly meant the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts which immediately proceeded to become a rant about Nora Rosier.

Mattheo still couldn't believe she made the team. Actually, he couldn't believe that she managed to stay on her broom for more than a minute, much less become a fucking chaser. Was Enzo out of his mind?

No, he wasn't. Mattheo had watched Nora from the sidelines, figuring that—like always—the tryouts would give him some ammo for a few weeks. But she was bloody brilliant. Did she take some liquid luck or something? She was easily the best one out there and last year, she couldn't even get more than ten feet off the ground. Had the world gone mad?

Well, the world might not have gone mad but Mattheo Riddle surely had. And, like always, Nora Rosier was at the center of it all.

Mattheo Riddle considered himself a good-looking guy. It was hard not to with many women constantly eyeing him like he would be the best fuck—and he was for the record. With his dashing grin, toned body, mischievous brown eyes, and matching messy curls, he was practically a dream for any woman.

Well, any woman but Nora. The one he couldn't stop fucking thinking about.

"I can't believe you gave her the fucking position," Mattheo said with another swig of his butterbeer. But it was a lie because after watching her play, he could believe that Enzo had made a chaser. The boy was always big on rewarding talent and hard work. And while it was clear that Nora Rosier had possessed little to no talent—several years of falling off a broom would do that to you—she clearly had worked hard at some point to get to this point. After watching her play this morning, he was almost a little surprised she hadn't made it earlier.

However, just because he saw why she was on the team didn't mean that he liked it.

"I can't believe that you're still bitching about her," Enzo retorted. His friend was always the nicest one out of the Slytherin boys but that didn't mean that he took any shit from them. "It's been what? Seven years?"

"Yeah," Draco continued with a laugh. That annoying little git. Half the time, Mattheo couldn't remember why they were friends but then Draco would do something that reminded him why—like prank a Weasley or something stupid. Though Mattheo would admit, Draco seemed to have matured over the past year. So he might have been (admittedly) a little less of a git. "Either fuck the girl or ignore her but either way, get her out of your system."

Mattheo choked on his beer. "What?"

Theo smirked and that was when Mattheo knew he was in trouble. Out of all of the Slytherin boys, Theo was easily his best friend. It wasn't just the similar names—though that did give them a reason to speak those many years ago. The two boys just seemed to connect on another level. Their home lives both left something to be desired—Theo with a dead mother and neglectful father, Mattheo with a dead father and mother who was in the most notorious prison in the world. They became roommates in their first year and while they were very different, it was those differences that gave them a reason to connect in the first place. Theo was quiet and introverted while Mattheo was loud and could make friends in just about any room. Theo was intimidating in that gruff sort of way while Mattheo threw hands at anyone who dared to piss him off. They understood each other in a way that only best friends could. To Mattheo, that meant everything.

When Theo smirked, it usually meant that he was about to say something that would probably piss Mattheo off to no end by backing him into a corner with wit he couldn't move past. Tonight, that was exactly what happened. "Riddle can't get over the fact that Rosier won't fuck him."

Mattheo scoffed and rolled his eyes before grabbing another butterbeer. It was safe to say that every man in that room was beyond drunk. "Please. Rosier wishes she could fuck me."

His best friend's eyes list up with amusement. "Is that so? Pray tell: why haven't you fucked her yet then?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Bullshit," Blaise exclaimed. To be honest, Mattheo kind of forgot the bloke was here. Normally, he was too busy fucking Pansy to hang out with the guys anymore and whenever he was there, he was lost in his head thinking about her. Not that Mattheo blamed him necessarily. If he had a girlfriend who wanted him day and night, he would probably be at her side just as much too.

"Yeah, you fuck anyone with a pulse," Draco added.

"That is not true." It definitely was true. Mattheo had high standards internally but externally, his dick had a mind of its own. Any woman with a decent pair of tits or a decent enough ass would be enough to tempt him. He had fucked many women in this school that he was definitely not proud of. Far too many Gryffindors were on that list.

"Wanna bet?" Theo smirked. Those words were dangerous in this group. Wanna bet? Mattheo could still remember the first time he uttered them, back when Malfoy swore that his patrons wouldn't turn out to be a ferret. Ever since then, betting has been a constant part of their amusement. Difficult exam? Bet. Date to the Triwizard Tournament that was out of their league? Bet. Pranks on Snape? Bet. It was virtually impossible to turn down a bet once one was aired in front of the others. Mattheo was the only one in the group who still held his streak of never losing one. It was a lot of pressure, to say the least.

Mattheo twirled the beer bottle around in his fingers. "Bet what?"

The evil grin on Theo's face widened. Merlin, he hated his friend sometimes. "I bet that you can't go a month without any form of sex."

Mattheo practically felt his eyes jump out of his head. "Any form?"

"Any form. No vaginal, anal, or oral. Don't even think about fingers, either. You're becoming celibate, mate."

His jaw dropped. Fucking celibate? Just who did Theo think he was? When Draco opened his mouth, he only made it worse. "Haha! Theo said any form. That means you can't even shake one out yourself."

"So I'm just supposed to have blue balls for a fucking month?"

Theo smirked. "Or admit that you're a whore who will fuck anything with a pulse."

"That's not true! I won't fuck Nora!"

His friend quirked a questioning eyebrow at him before taking a hit of the blunt in his hands. "Would you like me to add her to the bet?"

"No," Mattheo growled, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I'd rather kiss a bloody dementor than kiss Nora fucking Rosier."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "At least Nora has a decent rack. I haven't looked under those robes but I don't think you can say that about a dementor."

Decent rack? Decent rack? That was the understatement of the century. Nora had a great rack. She had a great ass. She had a great everything. The worst part was that she knew it. Mattheo hadn't missed the way Nora subtly looked at herself in every mirror she passed before giving herself a nod of approval. And what pissed him off even more was that he couldn't even fault her for it. Anyone who had that body would do the same. That tight little ass, the large tits, the abs that he hadn't missed during Quidditch practice, the long, straight dishwater blonde hair perfect for wrapping around his hand while he took her from behind.

Fuck. He hadn't realized how much seeing her shirtless had affected him until now. At the time, his mind had darted between at least a dozen different emotions caused by seeing her strip so willingly on the field. His cock hardened as soon as he saw the lacy green bra she wore with her nipples pebbled beneath the far too see-through fabric. He was already picturing grabbing that ponytail with one hand and palming her breast with another, maybe taking her underneath the very bleachers he had leaned against. Mattheo had practically salivated at the sight of her ass in those shorts that were definitely too short when pervs like him were around. And the way she easily stripped off her shirt with just a command? Fuck, that did things to him. Mostly, he was pissed off that everyone else saw her like that and even more pissed off that he cared.

With thoughts of fucking her in ten different positions going through his mind, it was no wonder he hardly paid attention to her tryout. It was hard to watch her ride a broom when all he could think about was her riding him.

Great. He was having these thoughts about Nora fucking Rosier—the most aggravating girl on the planet. Ever since... that day, he hadn't been able to stand her for more than five minutes. Her limit for him was even shorter. So why the fuck was he unable to think about anything other than completely devouring her?

Mattheo sighed and took another swig. Even after a few beers and stimulating conversation, he was still hopefully hung up on her. If this was how Quidditch was going to go, he was in for a very long year. She was probably ranting to her little posse right now—a small group of admirers that completely adored Nora because she was hot, smart, and popular. All true things, yes, but she was also the most annoying woman in Slytherin in his humble opinion. Meanwhile, he was with his posse unable to think about anything but her. And now he was expected to not get his dick wet for a month? He couldn't use another woman to get his mind off the irritating blonde?

Yeah. This was going to suck ass.

"I don't care how good of a rack she has. I'm not willingly getting within ten feet of her." That was hopefully not a lie. With the thoughts he had been having of her all day, he wasn't sure what he would do if he got close enough to smell her perfume. Close enough to pull up that shirt and see if she was wearing the green bra again. Close enough to fall victim to the only redeeming thing about Nora Rosier: her body.

"It's a good thing, mate, because it sounds like you're not getting within ten feet of any woman," Enzo said with a smirk. Mattheo just scowled and flipped his friend off. "Cheer up. Maybe your brain cells can regenerate without all of the cum covering them so you can finally pass your damn classes."

Sometimes, Mattheo really fucking hated his friends. While it was true that he probably spent a little too much time in the bedrooms of eager ladies instead of doing his homework, that didn't mean that Enzo could make bloody comments like that. He threw his bottle over in Enzo's direction only to hear the smashing of it against the wall. Shame, too. The little prick could have used a good smack upside the head.

Perhaps in any other friend group, that would have been an act of war, if not the end of the friendship. But in their group where they all were fairly skilled—especially Mattheo, who had apparently inherited a bit of his brother's extensive healing ability—it didn't matter. They could break noses and heal them in an instant, bloody themselves up in a fight—which happened quite often, mostly to Mattheo—and go to the Riddle dorm as long as he was coherent enough to heal himself or them. Either way, a thrown bottle was hardly a threat. In fact, Enzo just laughed at the sight of glass on the floor before flicking his wand and zapping it away in an instant.

"How many galleons?" Mattheo growled, beginning to pass the annoyed stage and going straight to anger. While some of it was at his friends, most of it was directed toward a certain blonde with tits he couldn't stop thinking about. The way they bounced as she took off on the broom—

Fucking Nora Rosier. Bloody hell. Yup, he should never think the words "fucking" and "Nora Rosier" in the same sentence ever again, not if he didn't want to get a new stain on his trousers. How was it that one damn Quidditch trial did this to him? He hated the girl—wanted to strangle her for Merlin's sake—and now the only image his mind could conjure up was of the way she would look as she came for him.

Theo, sensing his friend's anger, passed the blunt over. Mattheo took a big hit, careful not to take too much considering how many beers he had had already. The earthy flavor coated his throat as the smoke climbed down into him, settling into his lungs with a familiar warmth. He took another hit just for good measure before passing it back to his friend. It was best not to get in between Nott and his recreational drugs, though the bloke did sell to him at a discounted rate and occasionally offered him hits when he noticed that Mattheo's anger was getting the best of him.

"Twenty," Theo replied simply. Twenty galleons? Fuck. That was some good money. But to go without sex for a month didn't seem worth the price, though it was tempting...

"I'll double it," Draco replied haughtily. "If you make it a month without any sexual activity, you'll get forty galleons. I won't even make you pay when you lose. I've had a good week. Consider me generous." There was a smirk on his face that made Mattheo think that there was more to the story but he ignored it because he honestly couldn't give a fuck about anything other than the idea of forty galleons in his pocket at the end of a very long month.

"I'm quite interested in how this will turn out," Enzo quipped. "You in or you out, Riddle?"

Mattheo sighed. No sex for a month would be awful... but at the end, his pockets would be full of coin. Tom wouldn't have anything to horde over him—not like his allowance, which almost always indebted him to his brother, who usually made Mattheo bury dead bodies in exchange for a sack of galleons. But this would involve only a temporarily dead libido, not a body. He could be celibate for a month, right? Get his grades up, focus on Quidditch, hang with his friends. It wouldn't be easy but it was possible.

So after several moments of deliberation, Mattheo sighed. "Alright. One month, forty galleons, no sex. You're on."

The boys cheered from across the room, no doubt glad that they had something new to tease him about. Plus, if needed, they now had an easy source of blackmail. One wrong word from Mattheo this month and he could find himself with a naked girl on his bed and nothing to do about it. Yeah, this was going to be rough.

"Who wants to start a bet on how long it will take him to fuck Rosier?" Draco said with a snarky grin as he took a drink.

"If she's shirtless for the next Quidditch practice, I'd say... about fifteen minutes after it's over," Enzo replied.

Fuck. The image of Nora in that damn green bra appeared in his head again. This was going to be a long damn month.

This wouldn't be a true Slytherin series if we didn't have at least one major bet lol. I'm curious on what you guys think will happen/what you want to happen next. Also, all of the love you showed those first few chapters made my day so thank you soooo much. I love you all xx