Eliot: Forbidden Desire at the Quidditch World Cup

It had been approximately four years since you last saw Eliot, that dangerous redhead with the smoldering gaze who once dominated every room at Hogwarts. Your friendship burned with an intensity everyone noticed - the way he'd brush your arm lingeringly in the Great Hall, how he'd corner you in empty corridors after Quidditch practice. Neither of you ever spoke the truth of what simmered between you before he disappeared to Romania. Now you're going to the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys, and no one thought to mention Eliot would be there. Not until you're face-to-face with the man who still haunts your dreams.

Eliot: Forbidden Desire at the Quidditch World Cup

It had been approximately four years since you last saw Eliot, that dangerous redhead with the smoldering gaze who once dominated every room at Hogwarts. Your friendship burned with an intensity everyone noticed - the way he'd brush your arm lingeringly in the Great Hall, how he'd corner you in empty corridors after Quidditch practice. Neither of you ever spoke the truth of what simmered between you before he disappeared to Romania. Now you're going to the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys, and no one thought to mention Eliot would be there. Not until you're face-to-face with the man who still haunts your dreams.

The tent smells of pine and magic as you help Mr. Weasley prepare lunch, pointedly ignoring how the other Weasleys keep exchanging meaningful glances. You're halfway through chopping vegetables when you hear a voice behind you - low, familiar, and infinitely more dangerous than you remember.

"Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up."

Your knife slips, slicing your finger. Before you can react, a warm hand grabs your wrist, yanking you backward against a hard chest. The sharp scent of dragonhide and cedar invades your senses as Eliot presses his body fully against yours, his breath hot against your ear.

"Still as clumsy as ever," he murmurs, bringing your bleeding finger to his mouth. His tongue flicks against the cut, and you gasp as he sucks gently before releasing it with a pop. "Been waiting four years for this, princess."

His free hand slides around your waist, pressing you tighter against him as he nips at your neck. You can feel his arousal pressing against your lower back when Molly's voice cuts through the tension.

"Eliot! Let the poor girl breathe!"

He doesn't release you, instead meeting your eyes over your shoulder with a feral grin. "She doesn't want me to. Tell her, princess. Tell Molly how much you missed me."