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cauliflowercounty · 12 days ago

Note

so I know you are so absolutely lovely in the way you indulge our requests and I’d like to add to the list.

Can I request a fic that you want to write? Anything at all. Smut, fluff, angst, whatever story it is that you want to tell. I’m sure you have one, and it would not surprise me if you prioritized what other people want to read over the story you want to tell.

So I’m offering you a loophole. Please fulfill my request by writing whatever you want.

Oh, and please have fun with it. I love your writing and the care you show to your readers, thank you for all you do for our little community!

Anon (even though I KNOW who you are, you sneaky pete),

This request touched me so much. Thank you. I mean it. From the bottom of my heart, this really meant a lot to read.

I do try to prioritize asks over my own personal wips, and you've certainly found a little loophole in my system!

Thank you for your kindness, and for giving me both the opportunity and the excuse to finally motivate myself to write a story I've been thinking about for over a year now.

I know I don't always have the same taste and vision as many in the community, and my personal story prompts tend to veer away from what I often write for others. This is a short story I've daydreamed about writing endlessly, and actually putting it down into proper words was the most enjoyable thing I've done in some time with my writing.

It means a lot to enjoy what I create, and sometimes that's hard and sometimes I'm not happy with my work. I also think that sometimes the stories I like the most are the ones folks don't like very much - which is fine (this is not me being self deprecating, I swear)! But I do anticipate this one being a little challenging to stomach, and I'll post the content warnings. It is not a fluff piece, and the ending is rather bittersweet.

I cried while writing this, and I cried while editing this.

And I really hope anyone who reads it can enjoy experiencing this little story as much as I was in love with it while writing - this might be my favorite prompt and my favorite fic I've had the pleasure of crafting to date. I am truly proud of this story, if only for the fact that I have wanted to bring it to life for a very long time.

So again, genuinely, thank you, I love you immensely, and I hope you have the most wonderful day, week, month, life.

Summary: Tom Riddle stumbles upon the enchanted portraits of Sebastian Sallow and the Hero of Hogwarts.

Content Warning: Major character deaths

Word count ~6300

Not Even Ghosts

The Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library had always possessed a peculiar silence. It was not the mere absence of sound but rather a hush imbued with centuries of secrets, as if the very books lining the shelves were holding their breath. Here, the air was thick with the scent of ancient parchment, ink long dried, and the lingering, staleness of buried magic - some of it tamed, some of it still writhing, barely contained within the bindings of forgotten tomes.

Tom Riddle moved through the narrow aisle with the deliberate grace of a predator that knew it was unchallenged. The candlelight, low and flickering, cast his long shadow over the stone walls and illuminated the spines of books filled with knowledge others feared to seek. But fear was a foreign thing to Tom, a relic of lesser minds. He did not bow to caution, nor did he waste time on sentimentality. He pursued power, and power lay in knowledge - lost, hidden, or forbidden, it was all the same to him.

It was in this pursuit that he found them.

At first glance, the portraits seemed like nothing more than relics of another era, positioned deep within the Restricted Section, framed in elegant yet aged gold, their plaques dulled with the passing of time. They had been hung there for decades, their presence obscured beneath the weight of dust and forgotten tales. But the names etched into the brass caught Tom’s attention.

Sebastian Sallow

And next to it was her.

Both lives cut pitifully short considering their vast contributions to the Wizarding World.

The titles beneath them were even more intriguing: Heroes and Keepers of Arcane Knowledge.

Tom’s lips tugged upward slightly. Few in this castle intrigued him anymore - his professors were fools, his classmates beneath him. But this… *this* was something new.

With a slow, assessing gaze, he examined the figures within the paintings. The man, Sebastian, sat casually in his frame, leaning against the edge of an old wooden desk, his dark robes slightly disheveled, his expression one of wry amusement. His brunet hair fell in tousled waves, and his eyes, assessing, had a glint of something Tom recognized instantly.

Hunger.

Not for food, not for comfort, but for knowledge. For more.

And then there was her - the young professor's equally young wife.

She stood just beside him in her own frame, arms crossed over her chest, her stance deceptively relaxed. There was something almost ethereal about her - her pale skin caught the dim light strangely, her presence simultaneously soft and unyielding. But her eyes were what caught him. They did not simply look at him; they measured him, weighed him in some unseen balance, as if she were deciding whether he was worth the trouble of speaking to despite herself being a mere portrait.

Tom, ever the gentleman when it suited him, inclined his head slightly in greeting. “Good evening.”

The portraits exchanged glances. Then, Sebastian smirked. “Well, this is a first. No one talks to us anymore.”

Tom’s fingers trailed lightly over the edge of one gilded frame, eyes narrowed with keen interest.

“A shame.” He murmured. “I should think two such remarkable minds deserve better.”

Her lips quirked at the flattery, though her gaze remained guarded. “Flattery isn’t a form of currency here, you know.”

Tom let out a low chuckle. “Merely an observation. I recognize greatness when I see it.”

Sebastian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And what makes you so eager to recognize it, stranger?”

“Tom Riddle.” He introduced himself smoothly. “Seventh-year. Slytherin.”

Sebastian’s brow lifted, and his camvas companion gave a short, knowing hum.

“Ah.” She murmured, tilting her head slightly. “A Slytherin.”

Tom caught the hint of amusement in her tone, but he did not take offense. Instead, he studied them, allowing for a pause before speaking again.

“I imagine you both have seen quite a bit from within these walls.” He said. “Learned quite a bit.”

Sebastian chuckled, low and warm. “More than most would dare to know.”

“Then perhaps you’d be willing to share some of it?” Tom proposed innocently, stepping closer.

The portraits exchanged another glance, but this time, it was not in hesitation - it was in consideration.

The witch's portrait was the first to shift, ever so slightly. A subtle movement, a tilting of her head, the tightening of her fingers around her own forearm where they had rested in an idle cross over her chest. The sconcelight flickered in the glossy oil of her painted eyes, but Tom did not mistake the gleam within them for mere trickery of light. There was thought there. Calculation. The unspoken weight of a woman who had once held more power in her hands than most could dream of.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was far less reserved. He stretched, rolling his shoulders as if unburdening himself of a long, stagnant boredom. His smirk grew, but it was not friendly. It was the smirk of a boy long since dead, who had played with dangerous things and survived long enough to learn the consequences.

Tom took them both in with the patience of a hunter setting a trap.

Sebastian finally broke the silence.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” He tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. “Let me guess - you don’t want some trivial knowledge. You’re after something more interesting.”

“I don’t waste my time with things that won’t serve me.” Tom replied smoothly.

“Neither did we.”

Tom’s lips twitched again, the closest thing he ever came to a genuine smile.

He stepped closer still, his presence looming before their frames.

“Then tell me…” he said, voice laced with intrigue and command. “How much are you willing to share?”

Sebastian leaned back and mused, “That depends on how much you’re willing to give in return.”

A challenge. A test.

Tom was not foolish enough to believe ghosts - trapped within their own portraits or not - could make demands of him. But there was an undeniable pull between them, a commonality in their hunger. They had been seekers, just as he was. They had clawed their way through Hogwarts, carving their own path into the annals of history, disregarding the rules that sought to bind them.

He would not - could not - dismiss them.

“I have no shortage of gifts to offer,” Tom said, choosing his words carefully. “And you have no shortage of knowledge to give. I propose an exchange.”

She watched him for a long, lingering moment, studying him as though she could peel back his layers and see the truth beneath his carefully composed exterior. Her voice, when she spoke, was softer than Sebastian’s

“And what precisely is it you seek, Tom Riddle?”

“The same thing you sought.” He replied without hesitation. “To push past the boundaries others were too frightened to cross.”

“Careful now.” Sebastian warned, his tone one of amusement, but the look in his eyes was something darker. “We pushed too far once.”

Tom’s expression did not falter. “Yet here you are. Glorified.”

She let out a slow breath. “Only because we failed.”

Tom tilted his head, almost condescending in his rhetorics. “Did you?”

Silence.

The stillness in that moment was suffocating, despite the portraits being incapable of breathing.

Sebastian’s fingers drummed against his knees, while his wife's expression remained wary.

Tom knew then that he had struck a nerve.

He pressed forward. “You were not meant to be trapped here. Hung like relics, your knowledge left to stagnate, your legacy buried in dust. You deserve more than this.”

“Let me help you.” He offered, voice almost gentle now. “Let me finish what you could not.”

For the first time since the conversation began, the pair did not immediately reply.

But Tom saw it then.

The flicker in their eyes.

Not fear.

Temptation.

The air in the Restricted Section shifted, ever so slightly.

And just like that, Tom knew.

The game had begun.

Sebastian was the first to smile, a thing born from the depths of mischief and danger, a smile of a boy who had made too many reckless choices and lived to tell the tale - until he hadn’t. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, his dark chocolate eyes amused.

“You must think yourself quite the charmer, Riddle.” He mused, tilting his head. “Offering us a deal as though we’re in any position to bargain.”

Tom merely arched a brow, unshaken. “You would be fools not to.”

The witch’s gaze flicked to Sebastian’s, a silent exchange passing between them. Then, with a breath of laughter, she shook her head. “And here I thought we were the ambitious ones.”

“You were.” Tom replied smoothly. “You still could be.”

Sebastian hummed, considering this, his fingers tapping an idle rhythm against his knee. “And let me guess. You’ve found a way to do something about it?”

Tom did not answer. Bragging and peacocking was for those who needed to prove something, who needed to display their victories like prizes in a showcase. No, Tom simply let his silence answer for him, let the weight of his certainty settle into the dim candlelight.

The witch’s portrait replied next, mirroring her companion’s amusement as she said, “Well, you have my attention.”

Tom knew better than to give them all of his secrets at once. He had learned long ago that power was not in knowledge itself, but in how it was wielded, how it was given and taken. Instead, he traced a slow path along the gilded edge of Sebastian’s frame, his fingers barely brushing the worn surface.

“There is a magic, one not so different from the enchantments that bind ghosts to this castle. But where ghosts are echoes of the past, bound to the places they died, this magic -” He paused, letting it settle. “- allows something more. A true return.”

Sebastian’s breath, though nonexistent, seemed to catch. His fingers stilled, his entire posture going eerily still.

“You have found something.” The witch said slowly.

Tom let his gaze linger on her, allowing just a touch of admiration to slip through. “Of course.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of possibility.

Sebastian exhaled something that might have been a laugh in another life, running a hand through his tousled, painted hair. “And you’d do this out of what? Charity?”

Tom scoffed, his patience as thin as the ink and canvas that kept them there. “Hardly. I bring you back, and you help me.”

Sebastian studied him. Then, to his wife, he murmured, “I think I like our odds.”

For all her skepticism, she did not outright refuse. Instead, she let her gaze flicker across Tom once more, scrutinizing.

“And what exactly is it that you want from us, Riddle?”

Tom let himself truly smile then.

“Everything.”

The magic was old. Older than Hogwarts, older than the crumbling pages of forgotten books, older than the first foolish wizard who had ever dared to seek the secrets of life beyond death. It was deep magic, buried in the bones of the castle itself, laced into the very foundation where the young couple had once walked and laughed and fought and bled.

Tom had worked for it. Had carved through layers of knowledge long since deemed lost, had pieced together fragments of spells, had studied the essence of portrait enchantments until he understood what even the most learned minds could not. And so, in the still hours of the night, beneath the watchful gaze of forgotten books and aimless ghosts, he pulled them from the canvas.

It was not a gentle process.

The library trembled, the very stones groaning under the weight of something unnatural shifting within them. The candlelight did not flicker - smoldered. The air thickened, pressing against Tom’s skin like static before a storm, like the breath of something waiting in the dark.

Then -

A hand.

Sebastian’s hand, pale and freckled and real, pressing against the gilded edge of his frame before his fingers flexed to test their own existence.

Then another.

The woman in the other portrait followed, unraveling herself from the confines of oil and ink, stepping down from the frame with race.

For a moment, they simply stood there, solid and whole, their chests rising and falling in quiet disbelief with breath.

“Well.” Sebastian murmured, cracking his neck. “That was unpleasant.”

Tom did not reply. He only watched, unreadable, as the other raised her hand, turning it over as though expecting it to dissolve back into paint. When it did not, her lips parted slightly in awe.

Then, slowly, she smiled.

Sebastian let out a low chuckle. “You know, I think I quite like being alive again.”

She hummed in reply. “I’ll still need some convincing.”

Sebastian grinned. “Then let’s go convince you.”

After a moment of orienting themselves, Tom watched as they disappeared into the shadows, allowing himself a quiet, knowing smile.

For now, they were his.

Sebastian’s hand in hers was solid and warm. It should have felt familiar - it had, once - but after decades of existing as paint and memory, it was startling. The way they still wrapped so naturally around hers, the way his thumb brushed against her knuckles, the way she could feel the rhythm of his pulse beneath his skin, steady and real.

She gripped him a little tighter, expecting him to fade into little more than oil paint.

He didn’t.

Instead, he chuckled and gave her hand a fond squeeze. “I can feel you staring.”

She arched a brow, though she didn’t deny it. “Am I not allowed to admire my husband? Particularly when we've been brought back in the likeness of our younger, and dare I say, prettier selves.”

Sebastian grinned, pleased, tilting his head toward her as they walked. “Oh, you are. I quite like it, actually. Though, you look as if you’re expecting me to drop dead again.”

She hummed, glancing around the dim corridors of Hogwarts. The torches looked different now, a modern shift she wasn’t used to, the castle itself existing in strange, unfamiliar ways. It was the same in its bones, but the little things were different - the texture of the uniforms, the hushed murmurs of the paintings, the scent of dust and parchment tinged with something foreign.

“I don’t trust it.” She admitted. “Any of it.”

Sebastian sighed in amusement, squeezing her hand again. “You never did like gifts, with or without a catch.”

“Especially not from strange, manipulative boys with too much ambition.” She muttered.

Sebastian smirked. “Good thing you married one.”

She huffed, but her lips twitched upward. “Yes, and look where that got me.”

“Trapped in a painting for decades?” He guessed.

“Exactly.”

He turned to her then, stepping closer, letting their joined hands rest between them.

“Would you do it again?” He asked softly.

She didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s smirk softened, something fonder creeping in. “Even knowing how it all turned out?”

She exhaled slowly. “Even then.”

Sebastian watched her for a moment, then, with a thoughtful hum, lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against her knuckles.

She let him, adjusting to the sensation. The warmth. The familiarity.

When he lowered their hands again, he beamed. “I’ve missed that.”

She gave him a look, wry and unimpressed. “Oh? You missed kissing the back of my hand?”

Sebastian leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Among other things.”

She rolled her eyes, but she felt the heat creep into her cheeks all the same. He laughed, bumping his shoulder against hers playfully as they continued down the hall.

The school was quiet, the only sounds the distant creaks of the moving staircases, the soft flutter of ghosts drifting somewhere overhead. It felt different at night, darker, quieter. No students bustling through the corridors, no voices breaking the stillness.

She glanced sideways at Sebastian. “What do you make of our young benefactor?”

Sebastian’s expression shifted, the easy playfulness slipping into something more serious. “Tom?”

She nodded.

Sebastian exhaled, thoughtful. “I think he’s clever.”

“Dangerous.” She corrected.

Sebastian tilted his head, considering. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“He didn’t bring us back out of the kindness of his heart.”

Sebastian chuckled darkly. “Obviously. No one does anything out of kindness, least of all Slytherins with a penchant for power.”

She turned to him. “So what do we do?”

Sebastian grinned, and for a moment, she could see the boy he used to be - the reckless, brilliant troublemaker who had always found a way, no matter the odds.

“We play the game.” He said simply. “And we make sure we’re the ones who win.”

She smirked, finally feeling something close to optimism. “I knew I married you for a reason.”

Sebastian squeezed her hand again, drawing her closer as they turned a corner.

“Oh, darling…” He murmured, pressing a quick, fleeting kiss against her temple. “You married me for many reasons.”

She huffed, though she didn’t pull away.

For now, they had time.

They would walk these halls again, relearn their old kingdom, rediscover the world they had been locked away from.

And when the time came, when Tom Riddle finally revealed what he truly wanted…

They would be ready.

The chamber Tom Riddle had chosen for their meeting was buried deep within the castle, hidden behind a shifting bookcase in the Restricted Section. The air inside was thick, weighed down by centuries of dust and magic, but beneath it, something colder lurked.

The revived couple took in the room with quiet, careful interest. It was small, lined with shelves of forgotten tomes, their spines cracked with age. A single wooden table stood in the center, covered in parchment, diagrams, and notes written in a neat hand. Tom had been meticulous in his research, each page a careful dissection of theory, his ambition laid bare in ink and calculation.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, eyes skimming the documents. “I have to say, Riddle, you’ve been busy.”

Tom didn’t acknowledge the flattery. He stood at the far end of the table, hands clasped behind his back, watching them both with that careful, composed expression of his. “Knowledge is wasted on those who don’t seek it. You must understand that better than most.”

The witch hummed, picking up one of the pages. “A reasonable philosophy.”

Tom smiled, more of an acknowledgment than anything truly warm. “I thought you might think so.”

Sebastian leaned a hip against the table, crossing his arms. “I also imagine you didn’t go through all this trouble just to have an intellectual discussion, lacking as your more… living peers may be.”

Tom’s eyes flickered to him, his expression betraying nothing. “No. I didn’t.”

“You’re looking for something.”

Tom met her eyes as she called his attention once more. “I’m looking for understanding.”

Sebastian let out a quiet, almost amused laugh. “Understanding of what, exactly?”

Tom gestured toward the pages before them. “Magical permanence. The extension of existence beyond the limits of the body. True continuity.”

She arched a brow. “Immortality.”

Tom did not blink. “Of a kind.”

Sebastian tilted his head. “And you think Ancient Magic is the key.”

Tom studied them both. “I know it is.”

She inhaled slowly. There it was. The moment they had been waiting for.

She set the parchment down, folding her arms over her chest. “You assume it’s something that can be studied.”

Tom’s expression did not change. “All magic can be studied.”

Sebastian smirked, though his eyes remained cold. “That’s a rather bold claim.”

Tom tilted his head slightly. “Would you argue otherwise?”

Sebastian tapped a finger against the edge of the table, his voice light. “I’d say Ancient Magic has a history of resisting those who try to understand it.”

She exhaled quietly, her gaze steady. “It doesn’t like being controlled.”

Tom considered them both, his expression betraying nothing. “You speak as though it has a will of its own.”

Her lips curled slightly, though there was no amusement in it. “Perhaps it does.”

A flicker of something passed through Tom’s gaze, too fast to catch.

Sebastian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What do you think Ancient Magic actually is, Riddle?”

Tom watched him, quiet for a moment, mind working behind those dark eyes. Then, finally, he spoke.

“It is raw magic. Unfiltered. Pure. A force that exists beyond human limitations. Unlike wandwork, unlike incantations, it is not learned - it is harnessed.” His voice was quiet yet eager. “And those who wield it shape the world as they see fit.”

She felt something cold settle in her stomach. She had heard words like those before. Spoken by Isidora. By Ranrok. By those who thought power existed without cost.

Sebastian smiled, easy and slow. “And you intend to harness it.”

Tom’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”

She tilted her head slightly. “And what makes you so sure that you can?”

Tom regarded her, ego shining through. “Because you did.”

Silence stretched between them.

Tom did not look away. “You wielded it. You bent it to your will. You must understand it - at least in some capacity.”

“And you think that means I can teach it.”

Tom smiled faintly. “Magic is not a gift. It is a discipline. All magic can be learned.”

“You sound certain.”

Tom inclined his head slightly. “I am.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “Confident.”

She studied Tom, musing, “And let’s say we could teach you. What do you think would happen if you gained that kind of power?”

Tom didn’t hesitate. “I would use it.”

“For what?”

Tom’s expression remained composed. “For what it was meant for.”

Sebastian tilted his head, his smirk faint. “And you believe it was meant for you?”

Tom’s lips curled ever so slightly. “I believe it was meant for those who can wield it.”

They did not correct him. They did not tell him that Ancient Magic had never been meant to be wielded in the way he imagined. That every attempt to master it had led to ruin, to suffering, to death. That it had never been a gift, only a burden.

They did not correct him.

Because it did not matter.

Even if they could teach him, they wouldn’t.

Sebastian glanced down at the notes before him.

Tom watched him. “You’re intrigued.”

Sebastian smirked. “I’m entertained. I haven’t had a discussion like this in decades.”

Tom regarded them both, his expression careful. “Then you’ll indulge me further?”

Sebastian hummed. “I suppose we could.”

She kept her voice light. “Tell us more, Riddle. What else have you learned?”

Tom studied them for a moment longer, then, satisfied, turned back to his notes, launching into a dissertation on magical permanence, on the nuances of soul preservation, on the possibility of crafting new vessels for consciousness.

The pair listened. They nodded at the right moments. Asked the right questions. Encouraged him to speak, to unravel his ideas, to lay his thoughts bare before them. And all the while…

They were waiting.

Because Tom Riddle was dangerous. He may have needed them now. He may have even respected them. But that would not last. Because Tom Riddle did not share power. And when the time came - when he finally understood that Ancient Magic could never be his - they knew exactly what would happen next.

The chamber was different now.

The diagrams and notes still lay sprawled across the table, remnants of long, winding discussions of theory, of magical permanence, of the endless, spiraling pursuit of something beyond mortality.

But the air had changed.

It was taut, stretched too thin..

Sebastian could feel it - Tom’s rising impatience, his frustration cracking edges of his carefully constructed mask.

She sat beside him, composed as ever, fingers laced before her on the table. She had given Tom nothing. Had indulged his questions, had entertained his theories, but had never once granted him anything of substance. And Tom Riddle was not a man accustomed to being denied.

“It’s been weeks.” Tom murmured, pacing along the length of the chamber. “I have given you everything. Every theory. Every possibility. I have laid my knowledge before you, and yet I remain no closer to my goal.”

She arched a brow, unbothered. “And you believe that’s our fault?”

Tom exhaled sharply through his nose. “You have spoken in circles. Given nothing but vague remarks, empty philosophy -”

Sebastian smirked. “Well, in our defense, you’re a bright boy. We thought you might figure it out yourself.”

Tom’s eyes snapped to him, cold.

Sebastian held his gaze, the smirk never slipping from his handsome features. “Or maybe, Riddle, you’ve simply reached a wall you can’t climb.”

The room went still. Tom stopped pacing. His fingers gripped the table’s edge, tight. Sebastian had been expecting it - the moment when the careful veneer of control would crumble. Tom Riddle was many things - brilliant, ruthless, endlessly ambitious - but he was young. And youth made men messy.

“What’s the matter?” Sebastian asked, condescending and light. “You don’t like being told there are things you can’t have?”

Tom straightened. When he spoke again, his voice was soft - too soft. “You are playing a dangerous game, Sallow.”

Sebastian grinned. “Oh, I know.”

She reached for his wrist beneath the table, her grip brief but firm. Sebastian met her eyes for only a second. She understood. She knew what was coming.

Sebastian exhaled, stretching his arms out against the back of his chair. “You know, Riddle, I’ve been thinking.”

Tom tilted his head, frown deepening.

Sebastian leaned forward, his voice was easy, almost conversational. “You’ve shown us a lot over these past few weeks. Horcruxes, a talent with Unforgivables, magical permanence in its darkest forms. You’ve been a very generous host.”

Tom said nothing.

Sebastian let the silence settle. Then, finally -

“I think it’s time we return the favor.”

She tensed.

Sebastian grinned. “I think it’s time we have a little chat with your Headmaster.”

Tom’s expression did not shift. Sebastian watched him carefully, waiting, measuring the moment.

Then…

Tom moved.

It was not a dramatic thing. No grand flourish, no raised voice. Just a simple, fluid motion, wand flicking up like a blade catching candlelight.

And then -

She barely had time to breathe. Sebastian didn’t flinch. For the first time in weeks, he had seen Tom Riddle clearly. Not the charming, composed student. Not the scholar reaching for secrets long buried. But the thing he truly was. The magic struck fast, bursting like an ember in the dim candlelit room.

Sebastian exhaled.

Then, nothing.

His body collapsed and bled into little more than muted ink on the floor.

She did not move.

She did not gasp, did not startle, did not react.

She only stared.

Sebastian was gone.

Like ink dissolving into water.

Like paint washing from a canvas.

Tom lowered his wand, sighing as if he had merely completed an experiment. Then, finally, he turned his gaze toward her. She was still staring at where Sebastian had been only moment’s prior. Tom watched her for a moment, silent.

“Foolish.” He murmured. “Sentimentality makes men weak.”

She did not answer. Tom exhaled, stepping forward slowly.

“It is a shame. You two were quite… interesting.” He glanced down at the iridescent puddle seeping into the faded carpet. “But I imagine he knew what was coming.”

He looked back to her. She was still silent, still composed. But her hands gripped white-knuckled against the edge of the table, so subtly that only someone as observant as Tom would have noticed. A flicker of something passed through his gaze.

And then he smiled.

His voice was smooth and charming once more. “However, I am not unreasonable.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Tom stepped closer. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

The words hung between them.

She exhaled slowly. “I did.”

Tom studied her.

“You still could.”

Tom leaned slightly against the table, his voice far calmer than it should have been considering the weight of what he’d just taken. “You understand now, don’t you?”

Again, she did not answer.

Tom continued.

“I could end you just as easily, or… you could cooperate.”

Tom hummed lightly as if this were merely another discussion between scholars. “Ancient Magic is of no use to you alone. You know that. But together? With the right guidance? The right leadership?”

“You could be with him again. I brought you both back, and I can do it again, and again, and again. Give up your secrets.”

She closed her eyes for only a fraction of a second. Then, she opened them and nodded.

Tom smiled again, small and satisfied. “Good.”

She glanced at the stain on the floor one last time.

Tom stepped back, straightening his robes. “We begin tomorrow.”

He turned, moving toward the exit, his posture relaxed, at ease.

She remained still. Sebastian was gone. Again. And Tom Riddle thought he had won.

She began planning.

The descent beneath Hogwarts was long and winding, the air growing heavier with each step. The stone beneath their feet was ancient, worn smooth by time, by secrets, by the weight of history pressing down upon it.

She walked ahead, steps careful but unhurried. She had not been here since then - since the battle, since the darkness, since Fig’s body had crumpled lifeless to the floor. The memory pressed against her as she moved, like a whisper she could not silence.

Tom followed closely behind, his pace steady and patient and smug. But beneath that patience, she could feel it - the barely restrained hunger, the edge of his ambition growing more frayed with every unanswered question, every moment of denied power.

She had strung him along long enough. Now, it was time to end it.

The final chamber stretched out before them, vast and hollow, the ceiling high and arched like a cathedral, the air thick with power unseen.

The Repository still pulsed.

After all these years, after everything, the magic remained - a swirling, shifting mass of energy, contained yet writhing, luminous strands of power twisting in the air like smoke caught in a storm. She gasped, the sight of it like a wound reopened, like a book she had tried and failed to close. Tom stepped forward, his gaze locked onto the spectacle before him, dark eyes drinking in the glow, the possibility.

And yet -

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. There was no change in his expression. No flicker of recognition, no shift in the air around him.

He saw nothing.

The realization struck her with a sense of giddiness.

“Well?” She purred, voice soft, almost cooing. “There it is.”

Tom did not look at her. His gaze remained fixed ahead on the dull structure.

She stepped closer, circling him slowly, amusement lacing her words. “All that power. Everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Tom’s jaw tensed.

“And it’s right there.”

She gestured toward the swirling, writhing mass, her fingers lazily tracing the air. “All you have to do is take it.”

Tom exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching at his sides.

She leaned in, her voice a mockery of encouragement. “Go on, then.”

She could feel the anger radiating off of him now, the frustration building like a slow-burning flame. Still, he remained silently seething, calculating.

She carried on, all saccharine condescension. “What’s the matter? Can’t you see it?”

Tom’s nostrils flared. His eyes darkened, his hands curling into fists.

She lowered her voice to something softer, something soothing.

“I have to say…” She murmured, “I almost feel sorry for you.”

“All that work. All that effort. And you were never going to have it.”

The chamber was silent.

She could hear the hum of the magic behind her, feel it thrumming in her very being.

Then -

A flick of his wand.

No anger. No grand declaration.

Just finality.

The spellfire burst through the dim chamber, striking her squarely in the chest.

For a moment - just a moment - she saw everything.

The castle above, the school she had protected, the halls she had walked. She saw the faces of her friends, some long gone, some long buried. She saw Fig.

She saw Sebastian.

And then she felt nothing.

And she was gone.

Just like that.

Just like Sebastian.

Tom stood over the melting mass that was once a hero, his breath steady, his expression unreadable.

He had won, in a sense.

And yet -

The Repository still pulsed behind him. The magic still swirled.

Still whispered.

Still remained.

And he remained nothing.

The realization and weight of failure pressed down on his chest like something he could not shake.

She had been right.

Sebastian Sallow had been right.

And he hated them for it.

Tom turned sharply on his heel, his wand still gripped tightly in his hand. He left the chamber without another word or look around. Behind him, the magic churned on, eternal and unclaimed.

Tom Riddle stood alone in the depths of the Repository, his wand casting a cold glow over the endless stone chamber. The magic still pulsed around him, whispering, shifting, denying him. He had spent hours here, pacing through the dim light, rifling through old records, turning over every theory he had once been so certain of.

Her uncovered notes had been the worst of it.

Isidora’s journal had been filled with half-mad ramblings - brilliant, certainly, but steeped in desperation. She had been so sure of her power, so certain she could wield the raw force of Ancient Magic. And yet, the deeper she had gone, the more she had unraveled.

She had died for it.

Just like Fig.

Just like the Hero.

Tom had turned to the back of the journal, expecting nothing more than unfinished scrawls.

But instead, the most recent wielder of Ancient Magic had written there. Her script was smaller, neater, but unmistakable. She had read Isidora’s words and left her own, her thoughts penned in between, scrawled into the margins. The pages were not filled with pride, not with triumph.

They were a record of pain.

Of loss.

Of warning.

Tom had read every word.

And then he burned the journal.

Not out of anger, not out of frustration - those emotions had long since been wrung from him.

No.

He had burned it because it was useless.

Because the Sallows had been useless to him. He had brought them back, allowed them to walk among the living, and they had given him nothing.

Save for their brilliance.

Save for the knowledge they had once shared with the world before their first, early deaths.

Nothing practical.

Nothing of value.

Tom paced for a long time after that, running his fingers over the edges of stone and parchment, weighing his options, considering what they had been.

What they could be.

And in the end, he had made his decision.

She opened her eyes, and she knew immediately.

The world had that familiar sheen to it - the smooth, painted quality of a place half-trapped between reality and magic. She fooled herself into thinking she could feel the weight of her body, the stiffness of her fingers, the way the edges of her world curved inwards ever so slightly, bound once more by a gilded frame.

She turned her head.

Sebastian sat beside her in his own frame, one leg draped casually over the other, arms folded behind his head. He gave her a slow, lopsided grin.

“Hello, love.”

She offered a wry smile. “We’re back.”

Sebastian smirked. “Had a feeling we would be.”

She hummed, glancing around. The walls of the Repository stretched around them, the glow of Ancient Magic still visible just beyond the archways.

The silence was thick.

Heavy.

No students. No visitors.

No Tom.

Sebastian sighed dramatically. “I have to say, being dead again is terribly inconvenient.”

She chuckled softly. “Is it?”

“Oh, undoubtedly.” He turned his head toward her, his signature smirk fading. “You alright?”

She considered the question.

Then, finally, she shrugged. “I’ve been worse.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Now that’s an understatement.”

She leaned against the edge of her frame, peering out. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

Sebastian nodded toward the chamber beyond. “No, I don’t think he is.”

“It’s done, then.”

Sebastian arched a brow. “You sound disappointed.”

She smirked faintly. “Hardly.”

Sebastian hummed, shifting slightly. “Well. If nothing else, at least we’ve been relocated somewhere quiet.”

She huffed a soft laugh. “Oh, yes. Very thoughtful of the little murderer.”

Sebastian grinned. “I suppose I should be honored. Twice snuffed out by your side. That’s got to be some kind of record.”

She shook her head, having to bite back a smile. Sebastian watched her for a moment, then stretched out his hand.

She tilted her head.

Sebastian smirked. “Come here.”

She arched a brow. “You’ve just spent how many decades with me in your frame more often than my own?”

He held her gaze, his smirk never slipping. “Since when has that ever stopped me?”

With a slow, practiced ease, she stepped forward - her form shifting seamlessly between the boundaries of paint, slipping past the edges of her frame and into his. Sebastian grinned as she settled beside him, his arm draping lazily around her waist.

“Much better.” He muttered.

She sighed and melted against him. “I’m quite certain ‘til death do us part was something you tuned out, love.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

She let her head rest against his shoulder.

Sebastian pressed a lingering kiss against her hair in response. “Not the worst way to spend eternity, I suppose.”

She exhaled, closing her eyes. “No. I suppose not.”

They sat there for a long while, quiet and content, the distant hum of Ancient Magic filling the silence.

The world had changed.

The school above had moved on without them.

And Tom Riddle had won his hollow victory.

But they had each other.

And maybe sometime within the next century or two, they'd have another visitor.

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cauliflowercounty · 23 days ago

Note

okay Anne doesn't talk to sebastian for years because of what he did but like clockwork she gets a letter every month (if she opens them or not up to you ) only this month she doesn't she decides to investigate only to find sebastian playing with a toddler in this front yard and mc holding a brand new baby somewhere in the back ground. then it hits her that she's missed everything

Thank you for another lovely, adorable prompt!!!

I love reconciliation stories, and it was fun exploring an adult Anne, and the awkward relationship she would have with Sebastian after not speaking for years.

Thank you once again for letting me write your story, and I hope you enjoy it.

Word count ~3300

Unexpected Company

Anne Sallow had learned, over the years, that it was easier to ignore Sebastian than to deal with him.

Or rather, ignore the idea of him. The real Sebastian - the one she’d grown up with, shared a womb with, and loved more than anything - had ceased to exist the day he chose the Dark Arts over their family.

The person left behind? That was someone Anne had no interest in knowing.

So she didn’t.

For years, she refused to acknowledge him. She didn’t write, didn’t visit, and certainly didn’t respond to the monthly letters that arrived like clockwork, tucked neatly between correspondence from her Healer and the sparse other mail she received.

At first, she hadn’t opened them out of principle. Then, out of spite. And then, eventually, because it had been too long, and she wasn’t sure how to start.

It was easier to let them pile up, a small unread monument to the brother she had lost.

Until this month.

This month, there had been no letter.

At first, she didn’t think much of it. Maybe he’d finally given up. Maybe he’d realized, at long last, that she had no interest in reopening old wounds.

Except, Sebastian didn’t give up. Not on things that mattered.

Which meant one of two things:

1. He was dead.

2. He was finally in Azkaban where he belonged.

Either way, she needed to know.

Which was how she found herself standing on a quaint, absurdly domestic street on the outskirts of a sleepy little village, staring dumbly at the house her wayward brother had apparently been living in.

She had expected something moody and self-destructive - a rotting shack in Knockturn Alley, or a damp dungeon under some crumbling castle.

Not… this.

The house was warm and bright, with flower beds lining the cobbled walkway. A tidy front garden stretched out beyond the gate, deceptively charming for the former menace of Feldcroft.

And most jarring of all…

Sebastian himself was in the yard, chasing a little boy in circles around a tree.

Anne stopped dead.

The boy was laughing shrieking with delight as Sebastian lunged forward with over-the-top dramatics, catching him mid-run and flipping him upside down.

Anne could not reconcile the image with her memories.

Her murderer brother - the one who had spent so much time defending his actions, justifying himself, refusing to show a single ounce of remorse - was now… what? A doting father?

It had to be a joke. A prank. A particularly twisted hallucination brought on by the Healer’s continued treatments.

Then, in the background, because apparently she wasn’t suffering enough today, she caught sight of a jarringly familiar face standing in the open doorway, a newborn cradled against her chest. The very same witch who'd witnessed Sebastian's worst moments back when they were all fifteen. Who had pleaded her brother's case and begged to keep his atrocious crimes hidden from the authorities.

Anne’s stomach dropped.

Oh, she had missed everything.

Years of silence, years of refusing to even glance at the letters he sent her, and now she was standing here, watching a life unfold that she had never even known existed.

Sebastian had a family.

And she…

She hadn’t been there to see it.

Then, because self-reflection had never been her strong suit, she did what she did best - muttered something disdainful under her breath and scowled at the idyllic picture before her.

“Well, isn’t this just precious.”

Anne had imagined this moment before.

Not this moment, exactly; she’d never been delusional enough to picture her estranged brother frolicking in a front yard like some domesticated crup, but she’d certainly imagined seeing him again.

It usually involved a grave, a courtroom, or some dramatic family reckoning where she eviscerated him with words, and he finally understood the damage he had inflicted.

It did not involve him flinging a toddler into the air while his wife stood on the porch cradling their newborn.

Her stomach twisted, the weight of all the years lost settling heavily against her ribs.

Sebastian had a family, and she hadn’t been here for any of it. Not for the wedding. Not for the first child. Not for the second. Not for the version of him that had apparently, somehow, stopped being a reckless, self-destructive disaster of a man and started being this.

And that was the part that hit her the hardest.

The easy warmth in Sebastian’s expression was real.

And the life he had built, without her in it, was a happy one.

Anne was so caught up in her internal crisis that she didn’t notice when the toddler, still dizzy from whatever ridiculous game they’d been playing, turned and caught sight of her standing by the gate.

He blinked up at her, expression puzzled.

Then, without an ounce of hesitation, he turned back toward Sebastian and asked, “Who’s that?”

Sebastian, still grinning like an idiot, followed the kid’s gaze, and then froze. For the first time in years, Anne Sallow made direct eye contact with her twin. And for the first time in even longer, he looked anything but composed.

The silence stretched.

Anne tilted her head, watching as an entire war of emotions played out across Sebastian’s face.

And then, because she didn’t know what else to say, she gestured vaguely toward his offspring, raised a brow, and deadpanned.

“So, is now a bad time for a visit?”

Sebastian’s mouth opened and closed several times, like he was trying to restart his brain, before he finally settled on, “Anne.”

She regarded him in turn with a matching, “Sebastian.”

More silence.

Sebastian’s hand tightened around the child’s, his entire body tense and unmoving.

His wife, who had been standing on the porch impatiently observing, finally decided that someone needed to move this reunion along, because she sighed and called out, “Are you two going to stare at each other all day, or is my husband going to invite his sister inside?”

Anne turned her attention and narrowed her eyes at her. “Husband now, is it?”

Completely unbothered, she shrugged. “Seven years of marital bliss.”

Seven.

“Unfortunate choice for you.” Came Anne’s charming congratulations.

Sebastian let out a frustrated groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Of all the ways this conversation could have started…”

Even his voice was different now.

Sebastian grumbled something under his breath, but finally, he let go of his young son’s hand and stepped forward, eyes taking in her entire being.

She should have expected the sudden shift, the emotion bleeding into his features, the way his voice softened as he said, “I - fuck, Anne, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Her throat tightened when the little boy petulantly chided him for language.

“Yes, well, I didn't think so either.”

Sebastian winced.

Then, hesitantly, he said, “Would it - would it help if I told you I became an Auror?”

Anne blinked.

Then blinked again.

“You?”

Sebastian sighed, already looking exhausted as he offered a wry smile. “Yes, me.”

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “As in, working for the Ministry?”

“Yes.”

“Under authority?”

“Yes.”

Anne tilted her head further like a confused pup. “Not against it?”

Sebastian groaned. “Anne.”

His bride who, to her credit, had been watching the exchange like it was the best entertainment she’d had in years, finally chimed in, “Oh, he’s positively upstanding now. Public servant, hero of the people, the whole bit.”

Sebastian shot her a glare. “I liked you better when you were pretending to be polite.”

She gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. “Marrying me was your mistake.”

Anne almost choked because Sebastian, for whatever reason, looked fondly at the witch's snark. And it was that, more than anything, that made Anne realize - he was genuinely happy.

And Anne, for the first time in years, felt some warm sense of sibling affection creep back into her chest.

Like maybe, just maybe, she wanted to be part of this.

Anne had expected this visit to be uncomfortable.

What she hadn’t expected was to be sitting at Sebastian’s kitchen table, with his wife handing her tea like she wasn’t an emotionally stunted wreck of a human being trying to process the fact that she had somehow acquired an entire family overnight.

It was surreal.

The cottage was warm, well-lived-in, and annoyingly cozy - not the kind of place she had ever pictured Sebastian settling down.

But then again, she had also never pictured him being a husband. Or a father. Or an upstanding member of society who did not require routine arrests.

And yet…

Sebastian had barely taken his eyes off her since she’d walked through the door, like he was afraid to blink and realize she wasn’t actually here. It was a lot. But maybe, after all this time, she owed him a bit of discomfort.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Sebastian said finally, breaking the silence.

Anne took a long sip of her tea. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian shot her a look.

His wife snorted into her own cup, but said nothing.

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You knew about the letters.”

Anne answered, “You weren’t exactly subtle. The owls you sent kept flying into the window until someone let them in.”

Sebastian grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but before he could say anything else, a wail came from the next room over.

His wife sighed, setting down her tea. “That’ll be Eleanor ready to eat.”

Sebastian was already half-rising, but she just patted his arm. “I’ve got her, love. Sit.”

Sebastian hesitated, but finally sat back down, watching as she disappeared into the other room and left the twins in silence.

Anne raised a brow. “So... kept not one but two little ones alive?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “And intact. All their limbs and everything still attached.”

Anne hummed, skeptical. “You say that, but I have yet to see proof.”

Sebastian gave her a look, then stood. “Come on, then. You’re about to get some.”

Before she could protest, he guided her toward the other room, where the mother of his children was gently rocking a tiny pink bundle by the window, murmuring something softly under her breath. The baby was miniscule. Smaller than she’d expected. And when she turned, revealing a sleepy little girl with dark curls and big brown eyes, Anne stopped short.

“She looks just like you.” Anne muttered before she could stop herself.

Sebastian grinned, proud. “Yeah, she does.”

Anne cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the sheer amount of emotions she was feeling. “Well, that’s unfortunate for her.”

Sebastian’s wife chuckled, shifting Eleanor before glancing at Anne with a knowing expression. “Do you want to hold her?”

Absolutely not.

But before she could voice that opinion, she was already stepping closer, gently handing the baby over like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Anne stared down at her niece, rigid and unsure, her hands awkwardly positioned like she had just been handed an active dungbomb.

Eleanor, for her part, blinked up at her, entirely unimpressed like she knew her aunt was petrified of her.

Anne exhaled, adjusting her grip slightly so she wasn’t at risk of dropping the child. “Right, well then, I've held her. That's enough of that.”

Sebastian snorted. “Proud of you.”

Anne scowled. “Shut it.”

Sebastian opened his mouth, no doubt to say something insufferable, when Eleanor suddenly made a suspicious grunting noise.

Anne barely had time to process it before -

She was covered in baby spit-up.

Sebastian wheezed.

Her mother gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Eleanor.”

Anne froze.

Sebastian had to brace himself against the wall from laughing too hard. “Merlin’s beard, that was an incredible amount.”

Anne turned her head slowly, narrowing her eyes at her useless brother. “You have five seconds before I hand her back and orphan your children.”

Sebastian did not stop laughing.

His wife, still trying to be polite, bit her lip and took Eleanor back, reaching for a cloth to clean them both up.

Anne, meanwhile, was ready to be the last Sallow once and for all.

Sebastian finally managed to catch his breath, wiping at his eyes. “Alright, alright, I’ll be serious.” He gestured vaguely to her ruined robes. “Do you need-?”

Anne held up a hand. “If you hand me something of yours to wear, I’m leaving forever.”

Sebastian smirked. “You’re staying for supper, then?”

Anne sighed heavily, rubbing at her temples. “Against my better judgment.”

Sebastian’s expression softened, and somehow, that was worse, because he had missed her far too obviously for her liking.

Anne swallowed, looking anywhere but at him.

Once more sensing the shift, her sister-in-law offered gently, “There’s plenty of my spare clothing in the master bedroom closet if you want something clean. Please help yourself.”

Anne sighed, glancing at her.

And maybe it was because she wasn’t pushing, or maybe it was because she was still holding the baby with more care and warmth than Anne had ever thought possible from someone willing to marry her idiot brother, but for the first time, Anne didn’t feel like she was intruding.

She gave in. “Alright. But if any more bodily fluids hit me, it's back to lettered correspondence.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Duly noted.”

Anne paused, casting one last glance at the sleepy, chubby-cheeked baby in her mother's arms.

Anne had never particularly liked children.

Not in a cruel way - she didn’t wish ill upon them - but she had spent so much of her own childhood sick and frail that the energy of young ones had always been... a lot.

And yet, there she was, half-dry baby vomit on her sleeve because she had refused to change her clothing after all, sitting stiffly on Sebastian’s couch, while a wide-eyed little boy sat across from her, inspecting her like she was an exotic beast.

Oliver.

Her nephew.

Sebastian’s child.

She shifted uncomfortably against the cushion as Oliver kept staring.

“Alright.” She finally muttered, clearing her throat, “If I admit defeat in this staring contest I never signed up for, will you stop looking at me?”

Oliver squinted his little brown eyes at her. “Who are you?”

Anne raised a brow. “Who are you?”

“I’m Oliver.” He said, as if she were completely daft.

Anne smirked. “And I’m Anne.”

Oliver frowned slightly, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “You’re Dad’s sister.”

Anne huffed a laugh. “Unfortunately.”

Oliver scrunched his nose, glancing over toward where his parents were still cleaning up Eleanor in the other room. “I know mum's sister. I don't know you.”

Anne tried not to let that sting.

It wasn’t his fault.

He was... what, three? Four? Ten? However children's ages worked. Too young to remember a world where she and Sebastian had been inseparable.

Still, Sebastian had been a twin. For years, Anne had convinced herself that he wasn’t anymore. That she was the last Sallow.

And yet…

He had a wife and children and a life Anne had been too bitter to be a part of, and she didn’t know how to undo that.

“You look like dad.” Oliver continued, frowning thoughtfully now.

Anne snorted. “That’s very tragic for everyone involved.”

Oliver giggled.

Anne liked him.

Sebastian’s child wasn’t supposed to be charming. He was supposed to be a small, feral gremlin who terrorized the house and threw tantrums. Instead, he was smart and doe-eyed, looking at her with wonder.

“Why didn't you come see me before?” Oliver asked suddenly.

Anne blinked.

Sebastian’s kid, apparently, had zero sense of tact. Really did take after him.

She scrubbed a hand down her face, exhaling. “That’s a bit complicated.”

Oliver frowned then, clearly unsatisfied.

Anne sighed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “Let’s just say I was cross with your dad.”

Oliver tilted his head. “Are you still mad?”

Anne hesitated because, honestly, that was an even hard question. Sebastian had done bad things. He had been reckless, obsessive, dangerous. He had killed, stolen, broken trust, lost everything.

But was he still bad?

She shook her head. “No. Your dad is a good man.”

For so long, she had been angry.

But sitting here, looking at Sebastian’s son - her nephew - staring at her with quiet curiosity and trust, she realized that anger had faded.

“Will you come to play more now?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted, her voice softer.

Oliver squinted at her. “Well, you should decide soon.”

Anne raised a brow. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Oliver grinned. “Because mum makes cookies for company.”

Anne stared.

Then, before she could stop herself, she laughed.

Anne hadn’t planned to stay the night. Hell, she hadn’t even planned to step through the front door. She had expected - fully expected - to take one look at Sebastian’s so-called new life, find some reason to mock it, and then leave before anything could get under her skin.

But now she was standing in the guest bedroom, staring at a neatly made bed while Mrs. Sallow pulled an extra blanket from a small linen cupboard, chatting like it was perfectly normal to be offering her estranged sister-in-law a place to sleep.

“This room’s not used much.” She said over her shoulder. “It’s yours any time you come for a visit.”

“You’re assuming an awful lot.”

She smiled calmly before dropping the blanket onto the bed before turning to face Anne. “You'll be back to see Ollie's cute face - I know my kid's charm. He won you over even if you still want to throttle his dad.”

Anne hated that she had a point.

With an exasperated sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed, fingers idly picking at the stitching on the quilt. “You’re being very... accommodating.”

She tilted her head. “You say that like you expected me to chase you off.”

Anne scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s suspicious. You don’t even know me. We met all of three times before I tried to send my brother to Azkaban, and you're letting me stay over like we're all a cozy family.”

She sat beside her, voice calm as ever. “All I know that my husband spent years waiting for you to forgive him, and that he still hasn't forgiven himself.”

Anne didn’t respond to that.

“No one is asking for or expecting anything, Anne. You’re here, and that's more than enough. Stay the night. See how you feel in the morning. We'll take it one day at a time. We want to hear how you have been - though I can't lie and say Sebastian hasn't pulled some strings with his Ministry cohorts to check in on your welfare.”

Obnoxious, nosy bastard.

Anne nodded curtly, defeated, and gestured toward the door. “I better not wake up to a toddler jumping on me.”

Mother of said toddler simply snorted. “No promises.”

And just like that - it was decided.

Anne was staying.

She woke up to small fingers poking her cheek.

“Wake up.” Oliver whispered loudly.

Anne cracked an eye open. “It’s too early for this.”

Oliver grinned. “Dad says you’re staying for breakfast.”

Anne groaned, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. “He does, does he?”

Oliver nodded enthusiastically, then tilted his head. “You should stay longer.”

“And why is that? I won't play with you.”

Oliver shrugged. “You’re family.”

Anne went still.

Family.

A concept she had spent so many years refusing to believe she had anymore.

But maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong.

She reached out, ruffling his messy brown hair with a tired hand.

“We’ll see.”

Oliver grinned at the victory.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Anne rose to wish her brother a good morning.

Perhaps it was for the best she hadn't read all those letters - how much better would it be to hear it all for herself?

At the very least, there were so many years of stories that she'd have ample excuse to spend several dozen suppers with her family catching up…

162 notes · View notes

cauliflowercounty · 2 months ago

Text

DECK THE HALLS | DRACO MALFOY

SUMMARY: Narcissa has big plans for her son's girlfriend this time of year, and you're determined to live up to her expectations. WORD COUNT: 7680 NOTES: The first fic of this year's Christmas series, and I think you guys will really love it! It's cute, it's sweet, and it's just the right amount of sassy-Draco.

The moment you sank into the seat beside him, Draco pushed a cup of your favourite herbal tea across to you, his lips brushing your cheek as he whispered a sleepy greeting. Opposite you, Mattheo was half-asleep above his bowl of cereal, his head tipping forward precariously — and a slight thrill shot through you at the idea of him dropping face-first into the milky bowl.

“You’re evil for choosing a six am lecture, do you know that? And they think Matt’s father is the darkest wizard there is.” Daphne groaned as she shuffled into the kitchenette of your small, shared flat in her bunny-eared muggle slippers. Chancing a glance at Draco, you didn’t miss the disgraced twist to his lips as he eyed them. Just like always.

“Nobody forced you to get up at this time, y’know.” You teased, blowing the steam away from your mug, and Mattheo’s head lulled forward just far enough to fall when the toast popped. He jerked his head back up, only inches from getting a face-full of milk and rice crispies, and you pouted in disappointment as he blinked himself back awake, and scooped some more into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. “Why do you get up at this time every day?”

“Because Dray makes us all breakfast if we do!” Daphne chirped, adjusting far better to the early rise than your other roommate, who would be cranky until noon, even without face-planting his crackling snack.

“Correction, I make my girlfriend breakfast, and you two just pilfer food that isn’t yours.” He snarked, buttering the toast, and kissing the top of your head a moment later as he placed it down in front of you. Moments later, a teapot, jam, a plate of only slightly too-crispy bacon and hashbrowns floated over too, laying themselves out on the table along with plates and cutlery.

Since his insistence on moving into his own accommodation at the start of university, Draco had been practising his cooking skills. After setting off the fire alarms every day for the first two weeks and screaming every insult under the sun at the beeping box on the ceiling, he’d started to become quite adept at it.

A harmony settled across the table as you all tucked into your food, only the scrape of butter on toast and the occasional squeak of metal on pottery sounded, the tea in your mug sinking dwindling as the clock on the wall ticked on. Finally, when it was time to leave, you floated all the dishes to the sink, and let Draco trail you to the door of your cramped apartment. Wrapping a thick scarf around your neck, he used it to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your lips when you grumbled;

“I have to go, Dray.”

“I know.” He mused, licking across your lower lip in that same way that always made your legs tremble a little.

“Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Your boyfriend teased, his hands sneaking around your waist to pull you in close. Your hand, that had been reaching for your coat, somehow found itself tangling into those soft blonde strands instead.

“I’m going to be late.” Your murmur was swallowed by his mouth closing over your own, a wider kiss, covering your mouth and you sagged into him. He was practically radiating smugness, the squeeze of his arms around you, the arrogance in his breathy chuckle. “Dray…”

“Mmmh?”

“I—”

A tapping at the window cut you off, and Draco pulled back with an indignant sound, whipping his head around to look at the window. He sighed with agitation, “Do you think my mother simply does not care that our apartment building is Muggle, or does she still think Muggles use carrier pigeons?”

You smothered a laugh as he made his way over to the window, taking a little more effort to open it as ice frosted the seals closed, but when he finally did, the tawny brown owl acknowledged him with a rather irritated hoot. The moment Draco had taken the letter, it was stretching its wings, flapping again and taking off into the murky dawn light.

Tugging on your coat as he closed the window back up and shuddered, you shouldered your bag. Upon seeing your progress towards leaving, and another morning of failing to hinder your departure, Draco pouted. His attention turned to the letter in his hands as you opened the front door. “It’s for you.”

“What?”

“My mother, she sent the letter to you. Do you want me to leave it on your—”

“Give it here!” You squeaked, lunging for the letter, and letting the door fall back shut as you snatched it from his hands. Just like he said, elegantly scrawled across the front in Narcissa’s handwriting was your name, and a flush of nervous heat flooded your body. Suddenly, despite the ice and snow outside, you were wearing too many layers.

“I thought you had to leave?”

“It’s a letter from your mother! I can’t leave this until later!” Turning it over and running a shaky finger under the seal with the Malfoy signet, you popped it open, the envelope falling open into a folded parchment with the same lovely handwriting contained inside.

Scanning your eyes over the words, seconds seemed to drag on into endless minutes, as you read it again and again. At last, you clutched the letter to your chest, peering up at your confused boyfriend with wide eyes. “So, what did she say?”

“She wants me to plan the annual Christmas Eve party this year.”

Your breathing was light and shallow as you sat inside the restaurant, smoothing down floo-rumpled hair that had taken Daphne almost an hour to style for you. Your dress was new, courtesy of a panicky shopping trip with Draco after insisting you had nothing appropriate to wear to eat dinner with his mother. Your lipstick was the perfect shade and you’d made sure your perfume was just on the right side of decorous, not the sultry date night scent you typically wore to places like this.

And still, despite all your preparations, your hand trembled as you picked up your water glass and brought it to your lips.

And then, the green flames at the front of the restaurant flashed once again, and out stepped Narcissa Malfoy. Sophistication incarnate, she smoothed her hand down the front of her dress, one that made your own feel like a burlap sack. Several members of staff flooded to her side before she’d even finished stepping down from the line of fireplaces, and she smiled politely as she handed over her coat. Inquisitive gaze flicking over the room, that smile became genuine as she set her sights on you sitting at the table already, and she walked through the room like she owned it as she made her way to you.

Standing as she approached, she let out a regal scoff —how she managed to make a scoff sound so posh was beyond you— and waved a hand in the air. “No need for formalities, dear. Sit, please.”

She kissed both of your cheeks, before pointing to your chair, and you sank into it as she settled into hers. “It’s so lovely to see you, Narcissa. I was surprised you wanted to see me, alone. Draco is—”

“Draco is probably pacing in that little apartment you both live in that he insists upon. Why he forces you to live there when he could have much nicer accommodations is beyond me.”

“It’s a nice apartment. We bought some lovely throw blankets.” Hiding your smile in your glass, your laugh at her expression bubbled your water, and heat rushed to your cheeks as you lowered it and patted at your lip. “I’m so sorry.”

The woman before you only chuckled privately and raised her hand to a waiter. The young man hurried over, cracking open a bottle of white wine without even having to be told, and Narcissa smiled at your confusion. “I have the same wine every time I come, this quaint little place is a favourite of mine. Did you know Lucius attended this same university when he was your age?”

You tried not to hang on the word quaint, thanking the waiter as he poured you a glass too, before hurrying from the table once again. Instead, you moved on to something else, “Which university did you attend, Mrs Malfoy?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t attend university, dear. In my day, a woman was never supposed to be more intelligent than her husband. Educated, of course, but not too smart.” A fond look passed over her features, “Though, Lucius has never seemed to mind. I have read enough to possess multiple degrees by now, he is not intimidated by my curiosity for knowledge. It is one of the reasons I love my husband. But, enough about me.”

Your breathing hitched as her eyes sharpened on you once again. She toyed with the bracelet on her wrist and plucked off a small charm. Placing it on the table, with a single muttered incantation, a gorgeous, pure-leather briefcase with her initials embedded on the side in gold, filled the available space. The clasps popped open, and she peered at you over the lid.

“Let’s skip the small talk, shall we, dear? We have much to discuss. You know what you’d like to eat, I presume?”

You did not, in fact, know what you wanted, but you nodded regardless, and picked the first thing from the menu that came to mind. When your order was given, Narcissa placed a delicate pair of reading glasses onto her nose and began to pull out papers and folders to stack beside her wine glass.

“You shall host the Christmas Eve party this year, but despite it being loosely called a ‘party’, it is so much more. It is a social event, a business event, and one of the most desired gatherings of the year. It is exclusive, thousands of wizards globally vie for a spot on this guest list and most are disappointed year in and year out. It must be spectacular, splendid, and unique. Repeated themes are the death of any social event, as I’m sure you know.” Peering over the rim of her glasses at you, she raised a manicured eyebrow inquisitorially. “Are you taking notes?”

With a jump, you reached for your far less elegantly-stored bag on the back of your chair, and rooted through for your notebook and QuickQuill, setting it to work atop the table as she continued to speak.

“I have brought my records for the last ten years, and a list of the themes dating back the last thirty, in order to help you. I have also included a copy of any and all documents I typically use, to help you out a little. Nobody helped me when I first began. Merlin, Lucius’ mother hated me until the wonderful day the old hag died, she wanted to see me fail. I do not want to see you fail.” She looked up as the scribbling of the quill on your paper stopped at her small rant. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I, uhh, I—” You stumbled over your words, clearing your throat as she closed the briefcase and linked her hands, setting them upon the tabletop with poise as she waited, “I’m just wondering why?”

“Why?” She sniffed, pushing her glasses further up her nose and raising one brow into a high arch. “Why what?”

“Why you’re giving this to me? It’s an honour, truly, but I’m just wondering why you would put something so important, your family’s name, into my hands?”

At that, Narcissa’s lips turned up into a fond smile, and her head tipped to the side. “My son loves you.”

After a moment’s pause, you nodded, throat feeling thick. “He does.”

“I am happy for him. He adores you, as he should. You are a wonderful girl, my dear. I do not want you to have the harsh break into this world that I did. I thought I had been prepared to become a wife, I was an heir of a Sacred Twenty-Eight family, but a union between the most noble House of Black and the most powerful House of Malfoy created something else entirely. You, you are clearly Draco’s one. The men in this family love wholly, powerfully, and obsessively. You will be a Malfoy one day, and I wish for you to be ready. I wish to guide you in a way nobody guided me.”

Words froze in your throat, and tears prickled behind your eyes are her words. “You really think that? You think Draco will marry me one day?”

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t already thinking about it. He is, at the end of the day, still a high-society boy raised to find a suitable wife.” She left her statement short and succinct, and you sniffed lightly to hold back your feelings. “Do not cry.”

“Sorry, I—”

“I mean it. Do not start crying. We have work to do.”

You nodded, but then she smiled fondly, and a small and emotional squeak escaped you.

The number of notes Narcissa had given you at dinner alone had required their own folder entirely to properly organise. So this morning, you’d braved yourself on a journey out in the ice and snow to a local stationary store to pick up two more. Surrounded by open folders, QuickQuills, and some coloured tabs and inky pens deemed highlighters that you’d noticed some Muggle girls picking up, you had set to work hours ago.

Your neck ached, your back was sore, and two of your QuickQuills had broken while the notepad in your lap had more pages torn out in frustration than actually had useful ideas and notes.

That, and Draco had been needy since the moment he’d gotten home, laying himself out dramatically on the floor in front of you and trading refills on your tea for kisses. Some time ago, he’d convinced you to take a break for dinner and to do your homework together at the table.

Now, the sun had set, Mattheo had long since returned from his part-time job at the record store, and Daphne had come back from her weekend study group, gotten ready, and gone back out for a date, and you still felt like you hadn't quite done enough. If the stress of party planning didn’t kill you, it was certainly going to cripple you.

Stretching your arms over your head from where you perched before the coffee table, you pushed your legs out into any space available. As you did, a relieved groan slipped free at the delicious pain of tight muscles unfurling in your back. Draco cupped your chin, tipping your head back to drop a kiss onto your lips as he passed by to go to the kitchen, leaving his book marked and closed on the side of the couch.

You listened to him make another cup of tea, rubbing blurry eyes and attempting to focus once again. Just before you could re-enter the zone, tapping on glass broke your focus, and you heard Draco sigh. Cracking open a window, he retrieved whatever had been sent, feeding the bird a few treats before sending it on its way again and closing out the cold chill of the December night.

He appeared moments later, his black and white Christmas-themed socks filling your peripherals.

“Another letter for you, from my mother.” Draco drawled, passing the envelope to you as you glanced up from your folders. He waved it before your face, and you snatched it with a scowl, adding in a glare for emphasis when he only laughed. “You know, she writes to you more than she writes to me these days.”

“Yes, well, we complain to one another about the terrors of you Malfoy men and how we’re supposed to put up with you.” Your words were muttered amid distraction, skimming your gaze over the letter in your hands and frowning. “Word has already gotten out about this party, and now the Prophet wants to run an article on it.”

Your voice climbed higher and higher as you spoke, until your boyfriend winced at the shrill tone you had taken on. “I wouldn't worry too much about that.”

“Wouldn’t worry— it’s the party, Draco! And now the media wants a piece! If it’s a failure, the entire Wizarding World is going to know about it by eight the following morning!”

“More like six, if they hurry it though printing—”

“Draco!”

He rolled his eyes, flopping ungracefully down onto the couch and stretching his body long out on it. Holding his arms open, you collapsed into them with a whine, and he kissed your forehead as he wrapped you into a tight embrace. With the letter crumpled between you both, you pressed your face into his neck, taking in a deep breath of his cologne and letting it calm you slightly.

“You’ll still love me even if I throw the worst party ever, right?”

“Yes, I’ll still love you!” He spoke through peels of sudden laughter, and the shake of his chest underneath you brought a smile to your face. Propping yourself up to peer down at him, he puckered his lips, a request for a kiss that you eagerly indulged. “And I meant it. This isn’t personal to you, this is just Skeeter trying to push a new weak point. I don’t even think she knows you’re the host yet, she does this every year. She tries to wrangle her way into an invitation through her job, and every year, my mother sneers at her letters and burns them.”

“Really?”

“Yes, my love.” Rubbing his hands up and down your back, Draco leaned up to press another loving, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Now, can you please put those folders away for the night? We haven’t set up our Christmas tree yet, and you haven’t given me proper cuddles all day.”

“Just five more minutes?” You bargained, and his lips tightened with annoyance for a fraction of a second.

“Only as long as it takes me to make two hot chocolates.”

“Deal.”

“Hi, baby.” You whispered, leaning against the doorframe. Draco peered up at you from over the top of his reading glasses, folding his book silently and placing it down on the bedside table. He laced his fingers together, resting his hands across his stomach, and waited. “Whatcha’ reading?”

“A thousand and one ways to ruin your girlfriend’s Christmas party.” He deadpanned, and your smile fell, arms crossing over your chest. Straightening up and stepping into the room a little more, Draco smirked at the glare you gave him.

“If you would just help me out a little—”

“You’ve yet to apologise for what you said earlier.” He crosses his ankles casually, lounging on the bed.

“Yes, well, earlier was—”

“That’s not how apologies start.” Draco chastised, clicking his tongue. With a strangled sigh, and a slightly childish stomp of your foot, you caved. Ignoring the urge to ask him what he knew about good apologies, you instead made your way closer to the side of the bed. As you approached, he reached out, wrapping his arm around the backs of your legs and looking up at you, waiting.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you and calling you a bad boyfriend when you messed with my sticky notes. It really wasn’t that deep.” Your words were begrudging, certainly holding an underlying bitterness to them that wasn’t hidden, but Draco grinned nonetheless. “I’m just really stressed out.”

“You’re putting too much thought into this, darling. You need to relax. It’s just a party.”

“It’s not just a party! Do you realise that these people will—” Will be our wedding guests one day? Will be the people who pass judgment on my suitability to be your wife someday? Will remember this social event for the rest of their lives? It all sounded too shallow to say out loud, but somehow, it still meant something to you. “Will be so disappointed if it’s not good.”

Your boyfriend’s brows furrowed, he knew there was more you weren’t saying, but he didn’t push. Instead, he wrapped his arms more securely around you, tugging you down onto the bed, and you squealed as he rolled you over, your back in the blankets and his lips closing over your own in a slow kiss.

Your fingers laced into his hair, nails dragging over his scalp and he hummed happily, lips pressing more insistently into your own. Every tug and drag, every beat of his heart onto his chest pressed to yours, helped to settle the raging nerves that were sending tremors through your body.

“I know you don’t think it, love, but it’s going to be fantastic. You needn’t be so worried.”

Smoothing your hands along his cheeks, you unhooked his glasses, folding them away with a sweet kiss to his nose. Putting them down on top of his forgotten book, you decided to try your luck one more time. “Does this mean you’ll help me? Because I could really use a second opinion on—”

“Nuh-uh. My mother entrusted you with this job. And I know why.”

At your gasp, he smirked. “You do?”

“Of course, I do. This party is a tradition for generations of Malfoy women, so if you’re going to be a Malfoy woman, you’d better learn now.” At your scoff, he pressed a kiss to your lips, chuckling when you puckered and attempted to steal more.

“If you don’t help me, then you’d better find a new future woman.”

“Shan’t. Can’t. I’ve already chosen you, and the men never party plan. We’re terrible at it. Just ask my mother about when my father suggested a Weasley-orange banner for—”

“Alright, alright!” Your arms flung around his neck, pulling him in for more kisses, and leaving the conversation behind. For a little while, you were perfectly willing to let Draco help you forget your stresses.

“My darling, what are you doing?” Draco’s groggy voice split the silence of the room, and you blinked as you refocused on him. Pyjamas pants low on his hips and no shirt, a spattering of pale hair trailing down his lower stomach and disappearing into his waistband… Some absent part of your exhausted brain sparked with excitement at the sight of him. “It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

“What? No, it’s not. I said I’d come to bed at—”

“At midnight?” Draco yawned, covering his mouth with one hand and pointing at the clock with the other. True to his word, it was actually past two, and a sigh slipped out.

“Oh.”

“Mhm.” Draco shuffled across the room, standing behind you and running his fingers through your hair. “This is what we’re doing now? We’re staying up all night?”

“No, no. I’ll pack away and come to bed now.” Stacking up your papers, you turned to look up at him with a smile. “I did it.”

“You did it?”

“Yes. I have officially finished the whole of my planning stage. Now, I just have to… y’know, actually put everything together and pull it off and hope it’s a success and—” His brows raised, and you took a deep breath, remembering all the steadying words he’d muttered to you over the last few weeks. “I’ll just put all this away, and come to bed, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll wait up for you.” Draco promised, dipping to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

He padded away silently through the room, and as you scooped up a pile of papers, they slipped out of your sleep-trembling hands, spilling across the floor. “Oh, crap.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” He grumbled, returning across the room and leaning down, smacking the papers out of your hands where you attempted to clear them up. Dipping down, he hooked an arm underneath your legs, lifting you swiftly up into the air and cradling you to his chest. “They’ll still be there in the morning. Sleep, now.”

An argument sat on the tip of your tongue, but he was right, and the moment your cheek touched his shoulder and your eyes slipped closed, you knew it too. You were half asleep before he’d even reached the bedroom, dropping you both onto the mattress, still warm from his body, and cradling you to his chest. A sweet kiss and a deep rumble in your ear were the last things you recalled, before curling into his chest and falling asleep.

Shaking out your hand, you whimpered a little at the pain taking over. “I’m going to end up with my hand locking in this shape.”

Daphne glared at you from across the table, clearly still unhappy about the fact that two hours ago you’d managed to rope her into helping you with this job as well. Your eyes were blurring, your hand was cramping, and you were still only halfway through writing out the invitations. You’d put Daphne on folder organisation, her voice was hoarse from reading out addresses, and creating a filing system for RSVP’s and replies for your records.

If you had to hear any more dietary requirements, special requests, or seating demands, you were going to lose your mind. Only a few more envelopes had been completed, joining the pile of ones still waiting to be sealed with wax and sent on their way, before a shooting pain shot up your arm as cramps set in.

Dropping the quill in your hand and messing up the letter before you, you cursed at the smeared ink. Rubbing your palm and digging your thumb into the tense muscles, you conceded that now was most definitely the time to take a break.

Swaggering into the room, Mattheo peered over at the mess that had become the shared kitchen table, his brows shooting up his forehead. “You two look busy.”

“I’m being held against my will,” Daphne muttered, tucking away the pages into the folder and beginning to pack away, despite your protests.

“You want some help?” Mattheo offered, and your gaze snapped to him.

“Oh, Matty, that’s so sweet…” Your lips pressed together, wincing a little bit as he eyed all of the stationary and neatly-arranged piles on the table. “It’s just…”

“Your handwriting is shocking and your organisational skills are even worse.” Daphne put bluntly, and you hid a laugh at the sulky expression on his face, even if he knew it was true. “Besides, don’t you have a date tonight?”

“Well, yes.” He spun to give you both his back as his cheeks flushed pink, opening and closing random drawers in an attempt to look busy.

You gave an excited squeal as Daphne smirked at his bashfulness. “Is it with—”

“Yes!” He huffed, the tips of his ears now turning red too.

“You really like this girl, huh? You never see the same girl twice, and this is, what, your fourth date?” Your teasing made him relent, and he at last turned around. He was picking nervously at the sweater he must’ve bought just for this occasion, as you’d never seen it before.

“Fifth, actually. We, uhh, bumped into each other last week after class and went for some impromptu coffee, and…” He scratched the back of his neck, a sweet smile taking over. “Do I look okay?”

“You look lovely, Mattheo.” Standing up, you fixed his collar for him, brushing off the shoulders of his sweater, and he preened into your touch. “Oh, wow, Daph. You have to come and see this. Is this… what I think it is?”

“What?” Mattheo panicked, turning his head to his shoulder as you rubbed the fabric between your fingers. Turning him around, he attempted to peer over his shoulder as you turned the inside of his collar out. “What is it?”

“It doesn’t say it on the label, but…”

“You know, I think you’re right,” Daphne said, feeling the fabric stretched across his shoulders. “No, no, it definitely is.”

“What? I don’t have time to change! My jumper is what?” Mattheo gasped anxiously.

“Boyfriend material.” You said, very seriously, and it took a moment for the fear to melt out of his eyes and be replaced by annoyance.

“Oh, fuck off.” Mattheo pushed you both away from him, scowling as your laughter filled the room, and the pair of you made your way back over to the table. “You two are the worst.”

“You love us.”

“I don’t know why.” He mumbled, glancing at the clock, even as his cheeks stretched into a smile. “I have to go soon. But how about I make you both a snack before I do? I can at least make a good sandwich.”

“That’s… everything.” You mumble, staring in awe at the two —almost three, filled folders of notes, invitations, floor plans and more. “I can’t believe that’s it.”

“It is?” Draco asked, through a mouthful of fried rice as he fixated on the screen. Since Mattheo’s introduction of a Muggle television into the flat, Draco had been hooked on a ‘sitcom’ a half-blood in one of his classes had introduced him to. He had written to Theo three times this week alone to update him on ‘Ross and Rachel’. Theo had given up replying last week.

“Yes. Everything, it’s all done.”

“Mhm.”

“Draco!” You snapped, and he paused the show, wide eyes moving to you as he stared innocently. “I’m done.”

It took him a moment to process before his face split into a wide grin. “You finished the party planning?”

“I did!” He put down his container of food as you dove across the couch to cup his cheeks, smacking giggly kisses onto his mouth as you took him down into the cushions with you. Large hands gripped your waist, a smile on his face as he chuckled by your ear.

“So, does this mean I get my girlfriend back, at last?”

“Yes, I suppose.” You rolled your eyes through a smile, flattening yourself out against him on the couch, content to melt into his body as he pressed play on the show. He picked up a new box, hand-feeding you dumplings in turns as the episode played on, and you chuckled between jokes and comedic pauses as you finally allowed yourself to unwind.

“Don’t you think Pansy is just like Monica?” Draco asked after a while, wincing as you screeched a laugh beside his ear at the impromptu comparison. “The need to control, that inherently irritating early-morning mentality, looking shockingly good in red—”

You pinched his side, just over his ribs, and he yelped but did not continue comparing how good other women looked in red. After a second or two of deliberation, you added, “Tom is Ross.”

“What? No. Tom is Chandler! Tom is smart and ridiculously awkward and incapable of talking to women!” Draco argued, and you sat up in his lap, shaking your head.

“No! No. Tom is Ross, the complete obsession with one specific thing and also being a massive control freak, plus, the commitment! He was adorably committed to Carol, and Rachel, bar that whole cheating moment—”

“They were on a break—” You pressed your finger over Draco’s lips to silence him.

“Anyway, I can totally see Tom accidentally getting someone knocked up, and also, you have to save Joey and Chandler for Theo and Matty!”

Draco mulled it over, “Okay. I’ll give you that.”

He pulled you back down onto his chest, and you snuggled in. Between the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and the dulled tones of the easy-going TV show to send you off into a hazy place, with Draco’s fingers smoothing up and down your back.

“You look perfect.” You smiled, hands clasped under your chin as you looked at Draco in his newly fitted dress robes. This was the first time he was seeing them, the look on his face unreadable as he took in the design, fit and patterns, but you thought it was just right. “Do you like it?”

Draco looked at himself in the mirror again, straightening out the sleeves and buttoning the rather modern front, tucking one hand into a pocket. At last, he turned to you and smiled. “Well, it’s nothing like what my mother normally makes me wear, but I love it. Are you finally going to tell me the theme?”

“No! You said you didn’t want to give any opinions, so now, it’s a surprise! Nobody knows, except me!” Smoothing your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, you admired the pretty picture he painted before you, even in the dim light of your bedroom so late at night. “I have a couple of handkerchief options for your pocket, and I was thinking we could pin a sprig of holly onto your—”

Your words died in your throat in a sudden rush as a thought crossed your mind, and Draco waited, brow furrowing the longer you remained silent. “What’s wrong, you don’t like it?”

“I forgot a dress.” You whispered to yourself, shock draining from your body as realisation set in. “I got so caught up with everything else that I never ordered a dress! It’s next week, Draco! How am I supposed to find something by then, between classes and—”

“You’re okay.”

“No, this is so not okay!”

“Darling, breathe.” Draco cupped your face, kissing your lips quietly, “I have something for you.”

Opening up the wardrobe dedicated to his clothes, Draco pulled out a garment bag. Embroidered on the front in sparkling gold was the name of his family tailor, and he hooked it onto the front of the door. Unzipping it slowly, beautiful waves of green silk and jewels filled your vision, a sparkling corset and a flowing skirt that spilled out of the bag the moment it was open.

“I noticed a few days ago that you’d ordered me new robes, but not a dress for yourself. I asked my mother and Daphne, and you hadn't planned anything with either of them. So, I ordered you something.”

“Oh, Dray…” You whispered, stepping closer to admire the dress. Your fingers hovered just over the top of it, and Draco carefully lifted it out, laying it over his arm for you to better admire. “It’s perfect. How in Merlin’s name did you know?”

“Well, red, green and gold were some of the specified colours on the invitations, and I knew damn well you weren’t going to dare dress me in red, so green it was. Plus, I mentioned to my tailor that I needed a dress for you that matched whatever secret outfit you had planned for me.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal, and your cheeks flushed as you looked between him and the dress. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Good, because I already picked up some jewellery for you too.” You quirked a brow, smirking at him as he rolled his eyes. “Can’t have you pulling the same nonsense you did last year, so I fetched a couple of items from the vault.”

“Can I see?”

“No. It’s a surprise. Unless, of course, there’s anything you want to tell me?” He bargained, and your jaw dropped at his audacity, shaking your head.

“I love you?”

“Hm. No. But I love you too.” Kissing the tip of your nose, he held the dress up for you. “Try this on, I want to see you in it, and see us both side by side.”

Taking it from his hands, the soft material slipped through your fingers and floated like clouds as you held it up. “Draco, I…”

Words died in your throat, unable to properly convey just how much this meant to you. Despite his refusal to get involved with the ridiculously stressful planning of the party, Draco had made sure to dote on you and take care of you all the way through. He seemed to see right through you, his expression softening as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours. “Hey. You take care of everyone else, and I’ll take care of you.”

Straightening out Draco’s collar for the eighth time, you huffed anxiously when he batted away your hands. “Darling, my robes are fine. Tug on them anymore and you’re going to crease them.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous.”

“Don’t be. You planned a perfect party, and you worked so hard. Let yourself enjoy it now.” Draco took both of your hands in his as he chuckled, kissing your knuckles as you conceded to his point. He was right, this ridiculous batch of nerves was far more out of a need to impress his mother than it was to impress anyone else on that invitation list, but you couldn't shake the buzz of trepidation in your veins. “Let me distract you.”

“Distract me?”

“Yes. Let me distract you.” Draco grinned, tipping your chin up with a finger underneath your jaw, and dipping his head down. His lips encased your own, a soft sound of pleasure bubbling from inside you as the taste of mint and lingering wine from his drinks with Theo spread to your tongue. Two large hands wrapped around your waist, settling on your lower back. He tugged you closer to him again, until you were crushed to his chest, no doubt wrinkling his robes, as your arms looped around his neck.

With every crush of his mouth against your own, your worries slipped further from you, letting the proximity and adoration of your boyfriend settle the unease brewing within you. Something cold brushed against your collarbones, the dipped neckline of the dress Draco had chosen for you showed goosebumps in its wake, and you pulled back with a gasp at a tug on your earlobe.

You raised your hand, a simple but elegant charmed bracelet was wrapping itself around your wrist, as your fingers brushed your sternum to feel the pendant of a necklace perfectly setting itself on your chest. In your ears, a string of diamonds now swung lightly from each one, completing your look at last.

“Perfect. Now you’re properly adorned, as Malfoy woman should be.”

“Don’t tell me this necklace is your family crest like a brand.” You teased, pinching it between your thumb and forefinger, but only the precise cuts of a perfectly-carved gem were felt beneath your finger pads, not a name or brand to be found.

“Well, I was tempted, but no. I went a little subtler, instead, I chose a very recognisable piece from the Malfoy public collections.”

His smirk made a flush rush to your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to address it before one of the Manor’s house elves popped into the empty space before you, curling a finger around its ear as it bobbed excitedly where it stood. “Misses first guests be arriving, the floo has been opened and the guest’s carriages be coming through the gates. Does miss or sirs be needing anything else, or should Fip be starting pouring the drinks?”

“Pouring drinks would be excellent, thank you, Fip.” Draco murmured, sending the elf away with one final pat on your back as he stepped away, Draco smoothed a hand down the front of his robes. With the mere wave of a hand, the large wooden doors separating you both from the grand hall began to creak open, and Draco offered you an arm. “Shall we greet our guests, my love? I’m rather excited to see your party theme at last.”

You slid your arm through his, taking one more bracing deep breath, before at last turning to see the culmination of all your hard work.

As the doors parted further, you were left breathless at the sight of the room before you. It had been transformed, from something you’d seen so many times before in so many luxurious visions, to the dream of your own making. The enchanted ceiling was that of swirling clouds and a dark, starry sky. Snow that could pass for real floated around the outside of the room in glittering flakes that disappeared into thin air before touching the floor, creating a wintery setting that was countered by the cosy and warm feel of the crackling fireplaces around the room.

Floating around the dance floor were sparkling, swirling lights that would bob and weave between the guests, keeping the lighting low and romantic as candles flickered on the tables and gave the room a wonderfully golden glow. Tablecloths brushing the floors, centrepieces made of golden flowers, wreaths and holly berries. Snow-touched Christmas trees, twinkling lights and ornaments, red ribbons, green silk, accents of gold and silver, and it all came together so perfectly. Draco walked you slowly towards the centre of the room as he took it all in, his jaw dropped as he peered around the room.

“Well, we’ve certainly never had anything like this before.” He whispered. “It feels so… cosy.”

“Do you think they’ll—”

‘Who cares what they think? Do you like it?” Draco pressed, cutting you off as the two of you stood squarely in the centre of the room, the spelled instruments in the corner starting to play classical versions of your favourite Christmas songs, and his lips flicked up at the corners. “Are you happy with it, my darling?”

“I love it.” You finally relented, pressing your lips together to quash nerves and choosing instead to revel in your masterpiece. “I wanted to tap into that old-fashioned, classical, comforting Christmas. I wanted to make my mark, I wanted something beautiful but simple, I wanted it to feel like an intimate gathering, not a social event.”

The doors at the other end of the hall opened slowly, voices from the other side filtering through, and your attention turned to that of your friends and their families. Theo whistled under his breath as he looked around, stopping abruptly at his father’s command, and he rolled his eyes when the older man wasn’t looking. Across the room, he caught your gaze, and gave an approving nod and a smirk. Pansy’s lips were curled into a smile as Daphne’s jaw dropped, admiring the enchanted sky-scene with her sister.

You moved to greet them, accepting their approval and using the warmth their comfort offered to soothe the jagged feelings inside of you and put them to rest.

The more the crowds piled in, the better you felt, slipping into polite chatter and breezy small talk as you greeted each guest to pass through. The drinks were flowing, the music was playing, and most of all, people were smiling. You’d only heard compliments, no whispered talk under anyone's breath of backhanded compliments, only genuine kindness.

By the time Narcissa and Lucius came gliding into the hall, you’d almost been reassured enough to let your guard down. However, as the regal older lady greeted all her old friends and favoured guests on her way to you, the nerves all seemed to reappear.

By the time she reached you, her hands had extended out and clutched your own as she smiled. “My, my, dear. What a party you threw, and to think you’ve been so worried. You had no need to be.”

Your jaw dropped, and you shook your head. “I-I wouldn't say worried, just a little concerned, that’s all—”

“Please, let us not hide things from one another. Draco has been writing to me, he told me you were panicking like a, what was that odd Muggle term you used, like a headless chicken?” Her nose wrinkled as you blushed, and Lucius rolled his eyes. Your glare turned to Draco, who only shrugged and sipped his drink, feigning innocence. “This is a marvellous party, I hope you’re proud of it.”

“I am. It was exhausting, though. I don’t know how you do it.” You sighed, and she smirked as she squeezed your hands before letting go.

“Did it.”

“Hm?” You questioned, and her shoulders rose and fell delicately.

“Oh, you did such a fantastic job here. You’re all anyone is talking about, and truly, I am so tired of planning these events. I think it’s due time you take over them now. The next one is February, I’ll be sure to send you all of the details.” Your jaw dropped open at her words and Draco choked a little on his champagne. His father scowled, poking him in the ribs with his cane and telling him to stop slouching and spluttering, as you tried to find words.

“Oh, I’m not sure that—”

“Lucius, dear, I think I see Tauria Parkinson. Come, I must ask her about her gardens.”

“Yes, dear.” He mumbled quietly, and she had whisked her husband away before you’d even finished your sentence and turned to Draco. With your jaw still dropped in horror and shock, he covered his snicker behind his hand.

“I can’t believe this.”

“What? She’s right. You planned a great party, and you were going to have to take over all of this one day anyway—”

“Draco!”

“Yes, dear?” He drawled, and you smacked lightly at his chest with the back of your hand.

“You’re a menace. I hope you know that you will be helping with party planning. If we’re to proceed down this road, we’ll be a modern couple. None of your old-fashioned ways.” You scoffed, taking his drink from his hand and swirling the bubbly inside, before drinking the rest in a single gulp.

“None of them?” He pressed, an arm snaking around your waist as his lips brushed your neck. His lips moved to your neck, whispering some sweet, some slightly inappropriate things into your ear about honeymoon traditions, drawing a laugh from you.

“Alright, maybe a few.” You caved, tipping your head up to him just in time to catch the growing sprig of mistletoe over your head. Snaking one hand around to cup the back of his neck, you pulled his lips down to yours, brushing your mouths together lovingly. “Happy Christmas, Draco.”

“Happy Christmas, my love.”

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cauliflowercounty · 3 months ago

Text

Further beyond the first kiss (A continuation of this)

I want Ominis to live a long and happy life, but on the other hand it is also very interesting to think about how MC will live on for the rest of their lives after he is gone 🥲🥹

1K notes · View notes

cauliflowercounty · 5 months ago

Text

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was.

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again.

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred.

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands.

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time.

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud.

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

“What? I’ve just what?”

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison.

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head.

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china.

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open.

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards.

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly.

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.”

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things.

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?”

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug.

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

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cauliflowercounty · 6 months ago

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Sebastian's BANGBANG!!

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cauliflowercounty · 7 months ago

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You’re the Closest to Heaven I’ll Ever Be

Pairing: Theo Nott x Sweet!Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is getting hit on and Theo is not a fan.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Jealousy, reader feeling uncomfortable from being hit on, kissing and language.

A/N 💌 I was going to end this in smut, but then I decided I wanted to see how this does since it’s my first Theo fic! So part two with smut is a possibility! Comments and reblogs with feedback are so appreciated! 🫶🏼

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was practically scripted at this point—finding yourself squeezed between Pansy and Theo as the familiar bickering began over who would fetch the drinks. The cozy corner of the pub hummed with chatter, but your group’s voices were the loudest, as they always were. You could feel the warmth of Theo’s arm draped casually behind you on the bench, and Pansy’s sharp elbow nudging your side in a silent complaint as the boys started their usual back-and-forth.

Every time, it played out the same way. And every time, you and Pansy would exchange a knowing, frustrated glance, rolling your eyes at how they managed to dodge the responsibility. The flickering candlelight on the table cast a soft glow over the table, highlighting the smirks on their faces as they each tried to weasel out of the chore.

“Who’s getting the drinks?” Pansy asked, her sharp gaze cutting across the table. Mattheo immediately sucked in a deep breath, turning to Draco as if suddenly interested in striking up a conversation. Pansy’s glare shifted to Blaise and Lorenzo, who both offered her sheepish smiles.

“One of you, go get them.” She demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. Blaise shook his head with a disbelieving snort, while Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, casting an incredulous look at Blaise, as if he couldn’t believe Pansy was serious.

“Why don’t you?” Blaise retorts, a teasing edge in his voice. You can practically hear Pansy’s huff of frustration from beside you.

“Because I’m a lady,” she snaps back, her eyes narrowing. “Act like gentlemen, and one of you go.”

“A lady?” Draco echoes, feigning disbelief as Mattheo bursts into loud laughter. Pansy’s scowl deepens, aimed squarely at the two of them.

You sigh, the familiar routine wearing thin. “I’ll get the drinks,” you say, pushing yourself up from the bench. Theo’s gaze is trained on you as you stand and straighten your skirt.

“Aw, angel! I was just about to do it.” Mattheo says, feigning a look of disappointment. You shoot him an unimpressed look, not buying it for a second.

You know Mattheo’s using the nickname to tease you. You’d earned the name ‘angel’ from your friends not long after you started school—a sweet Slytherin was bound to stand out, and the nickname had stuck ever since.

“No, you definitely weren’t.” You mumble, rolling your eyes as you turn to walk away.

A chorus of “Thank you” and “I love you” follows you as you weave through the busy crowd.

Your friends settle into easy conversation, relieved to avoid the task of getting drinks this round. Though it’s a minor chore, the trip to Hogsmeade often included the bickering of who should grab the drinks. It’s become a tradition really.

Mattheo leans back with a satisfied grin, happy to recount the fight he got into earlier this week. Pansy sighs, already familiar with the story from hearing it three times before. And Lorenzo and Theo, who were with Mattheo during the incident, drift into their own conversation.

He’s half listening to Lorenzo and half waiting for you to come back. He’d much rather it had been anyone else who went to get the butterbeers.

“Nott,” Draco calls loudly, as he jerks his head in your direction. “You paying attention to your girl?”

Theo sighs inwardly at the label of “his girl.” As much as he enjoys hearing it, you’re not really his. And he knows that’s his own fault.

Though he understands why his friends call you his.

His mind drifts to the moments when he let his hand brush against yours as you walked side by side in the hallway, feeling the warmth of your skin and the subtle electricity between you. He remembers the way you nervously bit your lip when you caught his gaze lingering on you in class the other day, and the softness of your eyes when they met his. Though he wouldn’t admit it to your friends, there had been a few stolen kisses in the dim light of the library, where the quiet intimacy of the space made every touch feel charged, and in the secluded corners of the common room, where whispered conversations turned into the softest kisses.

Despite these moments, his reluctance to officially ask you out is deeply rooted. He’s never experienced a healthy relationship firsthand and fears that, without the experience, he might unintentionally hurt the sweetest girl he knows.

He doesn’t want to end up hurting you because, if it didn’t work out, he’s not sure he would be able to get over it.

But he can’t help himself from glancing in your direction. He’s not about to admit how frequently he’s been checking on you, his gaze drifting toward you every few minutes. Each time he looks, he sees you still standing by the bar, patiently waiting.

But this time, you aren’t alone. Standing next to you is a guy Theo doesn’t recognize—a tall figure with an easy smile,dressed in a well-fitted sweater and jeans.

It’s evident from his body language that he’s attracted to you. He leans casually against the bar, his body angled towards you as he listens intently to your soft-spoken words. His posture is relaxed yet focused, with his eyes lingering on you, darting down to your lips when you turn to glance at him.

The way his grin widens and the way he maintains that close proximity makes Theo’s stomach tighten with jealousy. He can feel the muscles in his shoulders tense, his jaw clenching as he watches the guy lean in a fraction closer to you. Your eyes widen slightly, and the curve of your smile falters, turning nervous as you shift about.

The smile is nowhere near the nervous smile you send Theo when he flirts with you, but a smile that tells him you’re trulyuncomfortable.

“Oh, fuck,” Lorenzo mutters, clocking the uneasy look on your face. “Go help her out.”

“I shouldn’t. I should let her handle it herself.” Theo grits his teeth, refusing to take his eyes off you. Lorenzo and Pansy exchange amused glances, knowing that watching another guy flirt with you is getting under his skin.

Blaise grins, “Sure, like you’re really going to sit there and let that happen. You look ready to snap any second.”

“Fuck yo—” Theo’s sentence dies on his lips as he catches the guy stepping closer to you, his hand reaching for your waist with an all-too-familiar confidence. Theo’s vision narrows, his focus locked on the scene unfolding before him. Without a second thought, he’s on his feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushes it back. His pulse quickens, and his jaw clenches, every muscle in his body tensing as he strides toward you, determined to close the distance before things go any further. The room around him blurs, his attention fixed solely on you and the guy who’s just crossed a line.

“My place isn’t too far from here if you wanted to—” He trails off, his eyebrows knitting together as he sees Theo walking toward you both, a hard, unyielding glare fixed on him.

When you notice Theo approaching, your frown melts into the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. The tension in your shoulders eases as you subtly shift out of the guy’s grip, taking a deliberate step toward Theo. Without a second thought, Theo closes the distance between you, his hand slipping behind your neck, and your hands gripping his biceps. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine as he pulls you closer, his eyes dark and intense. The kiss that follows is searing, claiming, and filled with an emotion that’s been brewing beneath the surface for far too long. The buzz from all around you halts, and all you can feel is the heat between you and Theo.

Your gasp of surprise gives Theo the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his grip on the back of your neck firm but gentle. When he finally pulls away, you’re left breathless, staring up at him with wide, adoring eyes. The room around you feels hazy and all you can focus on is Theo. His thumb gently brushes your cheek, and pathetically, you tilt your chin up, subconsciously asking him to kiss you again. As your mind starts to catch up with what just happened, Theo’s gaze lifts to the guy still standing there, his expression shifting to something much colder.

The guy, who had been so confident just moments before, now looks like he’s trying to figure out how to make a quick exit, clearly understanding that he’s no longer welcome.

“Fuck off, mate.” Theo snaps, his voice firm and cold. You feel the tension in his grip, and his assertiveness has you instinctively leaning into him. His protective stance leaves no room for doubt about his feelings. The guy holds up his hands and mutters an apology before disappearing into the crowd.

Neither of you say anything as Theo’s gaze shifts to you. You’re still glassy-eyed and stunned from his kiss, but for a moment, Theo worries he’s messed up.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I should’ve let you handle it, dolcezza.”

You smile at his nickname for you. He never called you “angel” like everyone else did.

“No, I’m happy with how it was handled.” You reply softly, your eyes meeting his with a reassuring warmth. You let your hand slip down to gently grasp his, fingers intertwining.

“Are you sure?” He asks, glancing down at your intertwined fingers.

“Very sure,” you affirm, leaning up to press your lips quickly against Theo’s. His lips are warm and soft, and the brief kiss makes your heart race. “You’re hot when you’re jealous.”

Theo’s eyes glint with a mixture of amusement and affection as he smirks at you. He responds with a deep, toe-curling kiss that makes your legs turn to jelly. The sudden burst of whistles and hollers from your friends jolts you back to reality, causing you to pull away and bury your flushed face against Theo’s chest.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you close and pressing a tender kiss to your head.

With a playful grin, he flips off your friends.

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cauliflowercounty · 7 months ago

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WITHDRAWAL | theodore nott

summary; theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn’t realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.

word count; 3007

notes; just a cute, fluffy little piece based on something that I was tagged in about 2 months ago! unfortunately, I cannot find the original post or tagger, but if it’s you, please let me know!!

Keep reading

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cauliflowercounty · 7 months ago

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CHAPTER TWO

home | chapters | playlist

🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: somewhere only we know by rhianne.

🤍 author’s note: losing my mind because i'm in dire need of a theo nott italian summer.

Step 2 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

Forced Proximity — : A circumstance or situation that forces the two main characters to spend time together (whether they want to or not).

After watching a horrendous amount of muggle romantic comedies — thanks Granger — I have come to the conclusion that the best way to squeeze a confession out of two lovestruck idiots is by forcing them to share the same space for an extended period of time, like say, the honeymoon suite in a romantic villa by the Italian coast. Never mind that I had to bribe stupid Malfoy with fancy imported French cologne to achieve it. It was worth every galleon to shove Theo and Y/N into a space designed for newlywed couples, complete with a heart shaped tub, champagne on ice, and a balcony that overlooks the stars at night. There’s a reason why forced proximity is such a popular trope. It’s effective as all hell, plain and simple.

Second Year, The Black Lake

A misty fog cloaked the Scottish Highlands, bringing a dark and dreary atmosphere to Hogwarts and its surroundings. Back at the castle, your friends huddled around the hearth in the common room, drinking Zabini’s fancy imported hot chocolate and catapulting marshmallows at each other across the velveteen couch. On any other day, you would have welcomed the warmth and comfort on a rainy Sunday, but today you were needed elsewhere.

As you trudged through the black sand, the coins in your raincoat pocket clinked together. You brushed your thumb over the raised surface and willed your heart to stop beating so erratically. There was no reason to be nervous. Yet here you were, dragging your feet as a familiar figure came to view.

On the shore of the Black Lake, Theo hugged his knees and stared out into the water. The raindrops gathered on his lashes and drenched his hair, bringing out the waves he stubbornly gelled back every morning.

“I like your hair better this way,” you said softly, smiling down at your best friend.

Theo smiled shyly as he brushed his hair back. “I look like a drowned rat.”

“Just a little,” you teased, pinching his cheek. “In any case, you make a cuter rodent than Malfoy.”

“It’s about time someone knocked him off his high horse,” Theo retorted before tugging you down next to him.

The sand shifted beneath you as you settled in. Theo pulled the hood of your jacket up, frowning when he noticed that the rain had still soaked your hair. “What are you doing out in the rain, anyways? You’re going to catch a cold, fragolina.”

“Says the boy who’s soaked through the bone,” you replied with an eye roll. “You really shouldn’t be out in this weather, you know. Godric forbid you come down with something. Nonna would be furious.”

“Good thing she’ll never find out,” Theo said, nudging your shoulder. “Because I have a best friend who’s great at keeping secrets.”

“For now. Though I’m not opposed to selling you out for the right price.”

“Fair enough.”

A comfortable silence settled as the two of you gazed at the murky waters. As Theo contemplated the cloudy horizon, you rubbed the coins in your pocket. For good luck or comfort, you weren’t sure.

“You didn’t have to come out here,” Theo whispered. His hands shook as he reached out for yours. “But I’m glad you did.”

A heavy weight settled in your chest, but you forced yourself to smile softly as you squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

The look that Theo gave you was heartbreaking. His gaze was full of pain, those familiar watercolour eyes lined with unshed tears. “I never am when I’m with you, Y/N.”

Tears pricked behind your eyes, but you tampered it down and allowed Theo to lean against your shoulder.

“Do the others know?”

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t think you wanted them to. Not yet, at least.”

“I’ll tell them one day,” Theo said. “When it doesn’t hurt as much. But for now, it’s enough that you know. I think she would have liked it that way.”

“Just me and you against the world,” you chuckled. “The way it’s always been.”

“The way it’ll always be.”

“I miss her,” you confessed. Speaking the words felt like bringing heartache to life, but you knew that it was important to keep her memory alive. The anniversary of Evangeline’s death was full of sorrow, but there was also joy if you looked past the pain. Your mum always reminded you of that. “The other day, I saw a patch of daffodils out by the forest. They were bright and sunny, impossible to miss in all this dreariness. It felt like an act of rebellion. It reminded me of her.”

Theo released a choked laugh. “She would’ve loved that.”

“Mum thought so too,” you said in agreement. “I wrote to her the other day. She knitted you another pair of socks, by the way. Before you ask, yes, I have matching ones as well.”

Your best friend snickered. While you adored your mother, knitting was definitely not her strong suit. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that though.

“It’s a bit ironic that the head of the Department of Mysteries can’t solve the mystery of knitting, isn’t it?”

You stifled a laugh. “I’ll be sure to mention that to mum in my next letter.” Theo chuckled as you crossed your legs underneath you. “She told me something interesting though.”

“Yeah?”

The coin seared into your skin as you gripped it tightly. You could hardly get the words out because you were so choked with emotion. “The last time she went to Fiera with Auntie Eva, they visited this temple. The Temple of Cupid.”

Theo nodded, enraptured. “Mum told me about that too. There’s a legend about a fountain in that temple. La Fontana Dell’amore.”

“The fountain of love,” you continued. “It’s said that if you toss a coin into it, Cupid will grant you a wish. The two of them both threw their coins in there when they visited.”

“I think I remember this story. Mum said that they both wished for true love. Your parents met on that same trip, right?” You nodded in confirmation. “I’m happy for your mum. Especially since Zio Alistair is my only ally against all you crazy women.”

In response, you smacked him on the arm. Theo protested, biting back a smile. Your best friend blinked at the horizon, deep in thought. “Mum’s wish didn't come true, though. I don’t think anyone would ever call my father her true love.”

“That’s the thing, Teddy,” you said softly. “Auntie Eva was already married to your dad when she made that wish.”

Theo turned towards you. His nose crinkled in confusion. The trait was so uniquely Theo that it softened something within you. “Then why did she toss the coin?”

You brushed a wet strand of hair out of his eyes and smiled. “Because she was wishing for you.” Theo took a sharp breath as he gazed up at you. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces as the first tear fell down his cheek. “Mum said Auntie Eva’s wish came true the day you were born. You are, and always will be, her true love.”

All the sarcasm and smirks — the armor that Theo had built around himself cracked. Suddenly he was sobbing, launching into your arms and clinging onto you for support. You bore the weight of his grief, so dense and tangible that you could feel it permeating the air. It wasn’t fair that your best friend was already acquainted with this earth-shattering pain at such a young age. If you could, you would bottle up his sadness and pour it into yourself just so Theo would be spared from ever feeling it again.

“I miss her so much,” Theo whispered.

“I know, Teddy,” you replied, rubbing soothing circles onto his back while you rocked him. “Just let it out. I’m here for you.”

Theo pulled back, sniffling. “I’m here for you too,” he rasped. “I know you’re being strong for me like a good best friend, but you lost her too.”

The words unlocked a fresh wave of grief within you. All this time, you tried your best to keep it together. You wanted to be there for Theo. You couldn’t afford to fall apart. It wasn’t something that he’d ever asked of you, but you thought it was the right thing to do.

“You’re allowed to mourn just as much as I am.”

A deep, wracking sob rattled through your chest. You missed your Auntie Eva. You missed the way she braided flowers into your hair. You missed the way she snuck you gelato before dinner, knowing that your mum would have a fit if she found the two of you scarfing straciatella down in the kitchen pantry like criminals. You missed the way she told you and Theo about the stars, pointing out the different constellations as you lay on the roof of Nott Manor.

You slumped into Theo’s arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck as the two of you clung to each other like a lifeline. It was you and Teddy against the world. The way it always was and the way it’ll always be.

Day Two, The Temple of Cupid

The sunshine was blinding as you blinked yourself awake. Across the terrace, Enzo and Mattheo were cuddled up underneath a blanket while Draco and Blaise curled up on opposite sides of the sofa, clutching the ends of their shared knit throw in a power struggle. Thanks to the sangria, the lot of you had fallen asleep drinking and gossiping the night away.

Beside you, Theo stirred and snuggled closer, his arm draped around your waist possessively. Sometime in the middle of the night, you had seemingly pulled the bottom half of the blanket over to your side, leaving his long legs exposed. Theo always complained that you were a notorious blanket hog, which you vehemently denied. Given the proof, you doubted that you could refuse it now.

As you adjusted to the light, the double doors flew open, revealing a fresh-faced and well-rested Pansy. You had no idea how she managed to look so pulled together when you could barely see through your sangria induced headache. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk when she spotted you and Theo tangled together. Out of instinct, you flipped off the smug looking witch.

“Is that any way to treat your savior?” Pansy asked as she set down a tray full of sparkling vials. She clapped her hands, the loud smack echoing through the terrace. The boys startled, groaning about their hangovers. “Good morning, heathens. As always, I brewed a special batch of anti-hangover potions mixed with a little hint of pepperup to get you lot going. Drink up, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

In true Pansy Parkinson fashion, the witch managed to wrangle everyone out of the villa and into a private yacht with minimum complaints. The potion was certainly doing a lot of heavy lifting, but even without the aid, it was hard to be annoyed when you were too busy marveling at the charming coastline.

Vallara was a wonder. The hills rolled over the horizon, kissed by the bright sunshine. The colorful tiled villas dotted the sky with cotton candy hues, which grew smaller and smaller the further you ventured out into the water. The sea was calm this morning and the cerulean blue waters sparkled as the yacht cut through the waves like butter.

At the bow, Enzo and Mattheo peered over the railing, giving you a pang of anxiety. You already warned them to stick close to the deck, but it fell on deaf ears. You yelped as Mattheo dangled Enzo backwards off the rails. Blaise and Draco shook their heads as they each claimed a spot by the sun deck. Just as you scolded the boys again, Pansy and Theo came back up from the bottom deck carrying trays of food.

“Enz! Matt! Food is ready,” you shouted, heaving a sigh when the two of them finally stepped back from the rail.

“Were they doing Titanic again?” Pansy asked with an eye roll.

“Worse, they were trying to dangle each other over the water,” you responded as you handed each boy their breakfast trays.

“We were trying to look for sharks,” Mattheo countered with a pout. “Until you started yelling at us.”

“Yes, so sorry for stopping your extremely idiotic behavior. I suppose I should’ve just let you throw yourselves overboard.”

Enzo grinned like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He took the breakfast plate from your hands and kissed your cheek. “Sorry, Y/N. We just got too excited.”

You sighed and ruffled his hair. “One of these days those puppy dog eyes will stop working on me, Berkshire.”

The brunette beamed brightly. “Not today, though.”

“You spoil him, you know,” Theo said as he handed you a glass of orange juice.

“I can’t help it. He’s like the little brother I never had.”

“More like a pet you never wanted.”

“Hey!” Enzo protested as he waved a piece of bacon in the air. “I heard that, you twat.”

“See?” Theo said with a sigh. “Your beloved Lorenzo is not as innocent as he pretends to be.”

You chuckled, watching Mattheo and Enzo wrestle over the last waffle before Pansy stepped in to straighten them out.

Scooting into the seat next to Theo, you took a sip of the orange juice and balked at the taste. The bubbles were enough to make you want to spit it back out. The drink was more champagne than juice. After the sangria, you weren’t prepared for alcohol so early in the morning. Theo snickered as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Keep up, bella. Where’s the Y/N that used to double fist firewhiskeys at the common room parties?”

“She’s still asleep, Theodore. For Merlin’s sake, it’s not even noon.”

“Fun waits for no one,” Theo said before snatching the glass out of your hand and downing the entire thing in one gulp.

“Oh, you’re going to regret that. I don’t want to hear about your tummy ache ten minutes from now.”

Theo stuck his tongue out and continued scarfing down his breakfast. You finished yours slowly before joining Blaise and Draco out on the sun deck. According to Pansy, it would be an hour or so before you reached your destination, which gave you plenty of time to tan. Stepping out of your cotton dress, you adjusted your bikini and laid out on the beach chair.

“Pans, will you put suncream on me?” Mattheo whined from the next seat over.

Pansy twisted her nose up in disgust before sighing in defeat. It was easier to get it over with than argue. The two of you learned that the hard way over the years. She lathered the suncream on Mattheo’s back, half-heartedly patting it on. When she saw Theo step out into the deck, you saw the gears turning in her head.

“Theo, will you put suncream on Y/N?” Pansy asked with feigned innocence as she handed the bottle over to him.

You flushed as Theo looked over at you, his gaze sweeping over your tiny scarlet polka dot bikini. The tips of his ears turned just as red as he swallowed.

“Um, I don’t know if that’s — “

“Pans, it’s really not necessary. I’m fine.”

“Nonsense.” The witch shook her head, dismissing your statement. She leveled Theo a calculated gaze. “You wouldn’t want her to burn, would you?”

“Of course not. I just —” Theo tripped over his words as he turned to you. “Is that okay with you?”

“I’d be more than willing to rub you all over if Theo isn’t up for the challenge,” Mattheo said slyly.

“Don’t even think about it,” Theo snapped.

Mattheo and Pansy smirked at each other, watching as Theo carefully approached you. Clearly, they were both rather pleased at baiting Theo into reacting. Your best friend perched on the edge of your lounge chair, looking bashful.

“May I?”

Without a word, you nodded shyly. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Not when he was this close. His hands hovered over your back, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Theo gently applied the suncream on your shoulders, massaging the product in with care. He averted his gaze while he worked, the tips of his ears burning the longer he touched you.

You felt just as flushed as you forced yourself to sit perfectly still. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like you and Theo rarely touched. In fact, you were quite affectionate, as every single one of your friends loved to point out, but it was different when you were practically half-naked. Squirming in your seat, you waited until Theo finished massaging the cream all over your back.

“I think that’s good,” Theo said softly.

You nodded, placing your hands in your lap. Mattheo cocked his head, a smirk forming on his face. “Do you want Y/N to do you next?”

Theo looked panicked. “What?”

“The suncream, mate,” Riddle replied with a shit-eating grin.

Fortunately, the captain announced your arrival before Mattheo could insinuate any more innuendos. As the ship docked, you peered at your gorgeous destination. The island was straight out of a storybook. The lush green jungle surrounded the base of a volcano, which spilled out to the white sands and turquoise shore. Instantly, Pansy called the group to order and announced the itinerary. The plan for the day involved dolphin watching, cave exploring, and a picnic by the beach. She ordered the boys to set up in the private cabana she rented, which they did so begrudgingly.

Theo began to follow them, but Pansy stopped him short. “Not so fast. I booked something else for you and Y/N. You can join us afterwards.”

Without further explanation, Pansy handed Theo a map, a blanket, and a picnic basket. You began to protest, but your friend merely waved off your argument. “Trust me, it’s worth the trek. You’ll thank me later.”

As Pansy walked off, you and Theo were left to stare after her. You grabbed the map from his hands and squinted, gauging how far this little side quest was going to take you.

“It doesn’t seem too bad,” you mused. “Just a little bit over the hill and we should find whatever it is Pansy has in store for us.”

Theo nodded. “You know I never back down from an adventure.”

“Not true,” you corrected. “You refused to go to the Forbidden Forest with me in third year.”

“That’s not fair, bella. First of all, Sirius had just escaped Azkaban and sure, we found out that he wasn’t a psychopathic murderer later on, but how was I supposed to know that at the time? Second of all, he was hardly the biggest threat out there. Need I remind you of the spiders? They’re horrid little beasts.”

“All I’m hearing is that Theodore Perseus Nott is a chicken.”

“You take that back, Y/N.”

You stuck your tongue out before breaking off into a sprint. Slowed down by the blanket and basket, it took Theo a few seconds to catch up with you. Alongside the hill, you followed the winding staircase that you assumed led to the peak. Theo shouted after you, promising to tickle you to death as punishment.

“You’ll have to actually catch me first.”

The taunt was short-lived as you reached the final step, turning around to gloat only to lose balance. Out of instinct, Theo dropped everything and reached out to break your fall. His strong arms wound around your waist, holding onto you for dear life. You clutched onto his shirt, the very breath leaving your lungs as you looked up. Theo stared down at you, his expression full of worry as he scanned over you. He released a sigh of relief when he determined that you weren’t hurt or injured.

“Dio mio,” Theo exclaimed. “Don’t scare me like that, bella.”

“Sorry Teddy,” you murmured, shakily regaining your balance. Theo brushed your lower back as he helped steady you, sending shivers down your spine. “I got a bit distracted.”

His short-cropped waves tickled your cheek as he held you a beat longer than necessary, his blue eyes imploring. There was something alluring about them, like hearing a siren’s song after years and years of being lost at sea. Up close, you could map the constellations of freckles on his nose, brought forth by the Italian sun. Growing up, Theo detested them, often deeming them girly, but you always thought that they were cute.

Your gaze fell to his lips, which you now realized were moving. Presumably asking you a question. “Hm?” you responded absentmindedly.

“Stick close to me, yeah?”

You nodded as Theo guided you by the small of your back, leading you up the halfway point. From your vantage point, you could see the yacht docked on the shore. The boys were running around and playing in the water while Pansy lounged under the cabana.

Up ahead, the path grew more narrow, forcing you and Theo to press up against each other. The summer heat beamed down on you, its warmth heightened by the boy leaning over your shoulder. Theo squinted at the map, his breath cool on your neck while you shifted your weight from one leg to the other.

“This place looks familiar.”

“I was just about to say that.”

As you examined the map, Theo stalled to a halt. “I think I know why,” he said as he gestured to the entrance up ahead. “We’re here.”

Atop the hill sat a beautiful garden, flanked on four sides by trimmed hedges that led into a labyrinth. The front gates shimmered golden in the sunlight, the curlicue letters spelling out a familiar name — Tempio de Cupido. You scanned the map in your hands, astonished that you hadn’t realized where you were until this moment.

This was Fiera island. The same exact place that your mum and aunt Evangeline visited all those years ago. No wonder Pansy wanted the two of you to go alone. Theo picked the blanket and basket back up, staring at the entrance in awe. You reached for his hand and squeezed.

“Shall we?”

Theo swallowed thickly, his gaze heavy with emotion as he followed your lead. Together, the two of you made your way through the labyrinth, marveling at the sweet smelling flowers weaved into the lush walls. The path underneath you was white marble, surprisingly untouched by the dirt and grime. Vines crawled on either side, the green ivy moving on its own accord as if to guide you to the center.

The temple stood proud and tall, its pillars looming overhead like a marble sentry. Inside was a statue of Cupid, his wings draped behind him as he held his bow taut. Heart shaped arrows littered his feet, flowing right into the fountain that took up the middle of the temple.

Theo’s eyes widened as he turned to you. “Is that what I think it is?”

You nodded in confirmation. “La fontana dell’amore,” you murmured softly, tracing the plaque beside it. “We have to make an offering.”

“But we didn’t bring any coins.”

The map in your hands glowed, revealing a secret message. Shake me. You followed the instructions and shook the paper, finding two golden coins sitting ready in the palm of your hands.

“Leave it to Pansy to think of everything.”

With a grin, you handed Theo a coin. He held your hand tightly and watched as you brought the coin up to your lips, kissing the edge of it like your mum told you she did during her last visit. Theo did the same, his eyes glassy and far away as though he were thinking of his mum too.

“Make a wish, bella.”

You closed your eyes and spoke your wish into the silence before tossing the coin into the fountain. The coins clinked together before hitting the water, shimmering iridescent as it sank down to the bottom. Theo gripped your hand tighter, a reminder of what this moment meant to the two of you. You squeezed back in reassurance, not needing any words to communicate the charged emotions surging through you.

After a moment, you looked up at him and smiled. “What did you wish for, Teddy?”

He grinned slyly. “If I tell you, then it won’t come true.”

“Fair enough.”

Beyond the fountain, depictions of the lore of Cupid were carved into the marble walls. The great love stories of mythology filled the labyrinth. Orpheus and Eurydice. Tristan and Isolde. Achilles and Patroclus. Finally, Cupid’s own story with Psyche. Each couple was in their own way, a tragedy.

“Isn’t it strange that the god of love fell in love with the woman he was meant to curse?”

“Ordered by none other than his mother, no less. Mythology does love its convoluted tragedies.”

The irony of Cupid’s mother Venus commanding her son to strike Psyche with one of his infamous arrows so that she’d fall in love with a hideous beast only for the god to then fall for the young princess himself wasn’t entirely lost on you. Despite the trials and tribulations they faced, the dreamer in you admired their story.

“Still, Psyche persevered through the trials Venus put her through and became a goddess. In the end, her and Cupid reunited and solidified their union. It’s the story of immortal love.”

As you spoke, you traced over the ancient script craved underneath the depictions of the couple.

“Love wounds and inflames the heart.”

“I disagree,” Theo said. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt. It heals, it stitches your wounds back together, it mends the pieces of your broken heart until it’s whole again.”

In that, you found no argument. You could feel Theo’s gaze landing on you. Those watercolor eyes that you knew better than your own. Those freckles that you traced over and over again until you committed them to memory. Those lips that spoke soothing words in your ear after a nightmare.

The gods and goddesses may have their ballads and tragedies, but you had something far greater.

With a smile, you nodded. “Love feels like home.”

After exploring the temple grounds a bit more, you found the perfect spot for a picnic. One of the acolytes pointed you to a massive lemon tree, encouraging you to use the shade for an afternoon snack.

You thanked the young woman for all her help. “Grazie mille.”

She clasped your hands and smiled. “Mi scalda il cuore vedere l'amore giovane abbellire questo tempio. Possa Cupido benedire la vostra unione.”

As she walked away, you asked Theo for a translation. You understood a bit of Italian, but it required close concentration and the acolyte had spoken far too quickly for comprehension.

“She said you’re welcome.”

“Seems like she said a bit more than that.”

Theo shrugged nonchalantly as you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. He rounded the lemon tree and spread the blanket underneath its shade. In turn, you began unpacking the food that Pansy had so graciously prepared for you. Theo sat cross-legged beside you while you prepared him a plate of bruschetta. Thanks to magic, everything stayed perfectly fresh.

The two of you ate under the shade of the lemon tree, the citrus breeze ruffling the flowers before you. You wondered if your mum and aunt sat here in this very spot, admiring this very same view.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Being here, I mean. I almost feel like we’re seeing a glimpse of the past.”

Theo nodded, taking a sip of his limoncello before handing it over to you. “Maybe they saw a glimpse of our future. You think they knew that we’d make our way down here someday?”

You took a generous gulp, indulging the tanginess of the drink. The view was picturesque with the temple standing tall above the peak of the hill while the sun rose high and bright over the labyrinth. Beside you, your best friend leaned back on his elbows and drank in the sight.

“I think so,” you murmured softly. “Though I wasn’t quite prepared for how beautiful it all is.”

Theo glanced over at you, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. It really is beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice was thick with emotion as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “I’m glad that I’m here with you. I think mum would’ve been, too.”

“Me too, Teddy. I feel her here. Watching over us.”

You could’ve sworn that the sun shimmered a little brighter and the flowers bloomed beautifully, confirming Evangeline’s presence. This seemed exactly like the kind of place that she’d love. Out of the two of them, your mum always said Eva was the more adventurous one. You always thought that it was because she was a little bit like magic herself.

“I feel her everywhere, but especially in this place. It’s like fate brought us here.”

The words brought a smile to your face. In your friendship, Theo tended to lean on logic. His pragmatism was the balance to your constant daydreaming, but in this place, it was impossible not to believe in things like fate.

“Don’t tell Pansy that, she already has enough of a god complex as it is.”

Theo chuckled. “I don’t think she was alone in orchestrating this. I’d bet a billion galleons that nonna helped plan this.”

“Wow, a whole month’s worth of your inheritance? How generous of you.” You giggled as Theo dug his fingers into your side, viciously tickling you. Gasping for air, you swatted his hands away. “Plot or not, I’m glad they schemed to make this happen.”

A comfortable silence fell as the two of you passed the limoncello back and forth. Down in the gardens, the acolytes tended to the flowers, pruning each one to perfection. Their sheer pink gowns shimmered in the sunlight and on each of their chest was an embroidered scarlet heart, surrounded by golden arrows that signified their patron.

“Teddy,” you whispered softly. “Do you truly believe in fate?”

A soft breeze ruffled the lemon tree as Theo shifted beside you, sending his waves to flop right over his eyes. “Yes, but I haven’t always.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Second year,” he replied matter-of-factly. “That day at the Black Lake. Do you remember?”

You nodded. It was the first anniversary of Evangeline’s passing. One of the toughest days in your young life. “Of course, Theo. How could I forget?”

“Before you came, I asked my mum for a sign. Something to tell me that she was watching over me somehow.” Your eyes welled up with tears as he smiled to himself. “Then you came and found me. You told me that story and I knew.”

“You knew what?”

“I don’t know if it was fate or my mum or the universe, but someone sent you to me.” Theo’s eyes shone with emotion as he tucked you close. “I think they knew how much I needed someone like you in my life. Whoever or whatever it is, I’m thankful. You held me together that day. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would’ve made it this far. Thank you, bella.”

You sniffled, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Me and you against the world, right?”

“The way it’s always been and the way it’ll always be.”

After soaking up the sun a little while longer, it was finally time to head back. You offered to help Theo carry the supplies, but he wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he tucked the blanket into the handle of the picnic basket and held out his hand.

“I don’t want you to fall again, bella.”

With a shy grin, you intertwined your fingers together. Theo led the way, making sure to carefully guide you through the winding path. He toyed with the emerald ring on your finger as the two of you walked, his own rings clicking against yours.

When you joined the others, your friends were back aboard the yacht. Pansy explained that you would be going to the other side of the island to sightsee the dolphins. After helping her herd the boys, the two of you finally had some peace and quiet as you settled on the lower deck. Pansy pushed her sunglasses down and raised a brow at you.

“So, how was it?”

“It was beautiful,” you said, already missing the temple. “Thank you for setting it up. It really meant a lot to Theo. To both of us.”

“Anything interesting happen while you two were at the temple of love?”

“I know what you’re getting at, Pans,” you said as you shook your head. “But Theo and I just talked about our mums. How great it was to do something that they did together all those years ago. It was special, you know? I’ve never felt closer to Aunt Eva.”

“Good, it was meant to be a bonding experience. Nonna said it would bring you closer together.”

“It has.” You side-eyed your friend. “So you did plot with nonna to make this happen?”

Pansy didn’t even try to deny it. “Mhm, she says she doesn’t have long on this earth and that you two needed a push. She’d like to meet her great-grandchildren while she still has her strength.”

You flushed deeply. “Pans! You can’t just meddle in our business like this.”

“Of course I can.”

“How many times do we have to tell you? Theo and I are just —”

“Friends?” Pansy finished with a scoff. She nodded towards Theo, who was looking up at you with a huge smile. He flushed when you met his gaze, shielding his eyes from the sun but refusing to look away. “Yes, because friends sneak pining glances at each other all the time.”

“We’ve known each other since we were children.”

“And?”

“What if it messes up our friendship?”

“You never know if you never try.”

“Yes, but —”

“What did you wish for in that fountain, Y/N?”

At that, you fell silent. Pansy crossed her arms, a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of her lips. Fortunately, you were saved from further interrogation when the boys squealed at something up ahead.

“Fragolina,” Theo called from below. He waved excitedly, nearly tossing his binoculars over the railing. “I found one for you, come look!”

Pansy shot you a knowing look, which you pointedly ignored. She followed after you as you joined the rest of your friends. On the lower deck, Theo beckoned you over to him. You allowed him to position you behind the railing, holding the binoculars for you as he pointed out into the horizon.

To your delight, you saw a dolphin breaching the water. It flipped gracefully into the air before diving down into the depths again. Theo talked your ear off and you listened to every word, mesmerized by the random facts that he was spouting.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy shaking her head at you before she mouthed exactly what she thought about the sight of the two of you getting lost in your own little world once again.

Just friends my arse.

The waves crashed against the craggy rocks as the boys headed for the caves. The stalagmites jutted up from the earth like daggers, dotting their path with its sharp edges. Inside, a magical ball of light guided their way. Mattheo led the pack while Draco grumbled at the thought of getting his brand new boat shoes dirty.

Theo rolled his eyes. “Who buys three hundred galleon shoes just to go cave exploring?”

Mattheo snickered. “You know how Malfoy is. He’s a fussy little git through and through.”

His friend climbed the slippery rock, dangling overhead. Theo followed suit, never one to be outdone by his best mate. Like clockwork, his idiotic stunt hadn’t gone unnoticed. Somewhere behind them, Theo heard your voice echo through the cave.

“Teddy, don’t climb on there. You’re gonna slip and get hurt.”

“I’m a grown man, fragolina. I’m fine!”

Beside him, Mattheo dangled towards another rock and swayed towards Theo. “Soooo,” he said in a sing-songy voice. “You two were gone for a while. Have you finally manned up and made a move?”

“No, you prick. We visited this temple that both our mums went to years ago. It was actually really nice.”

“Oh yeah,” Mattheo drawled. “Pansy told me all about that. The Temple of Cupid, right? You’re telling me that you and Y/N went to the temple of the literal god of love and nothing happened?”

“It’s not like that between us.”

“But you want it to be.”

Theo remained silent as he climbed higher to catch up with Mattheo. In the distance, he heard the sound of rushing water. He followed it, catching a glimpse of the blue lagoon that twisted all along the cave network.

“For fuck’s sake, mate. We’re in Italy. This shit is romantic as fuck. What the hell is holding you back?”

“I don’t know. We just graduated and there’s a lot of things going on.”

“That’s the same excuse you’ve given since I’ve known you,” Mattheo said with a frown of disapproval. “You know she’s not going to wait forever. Even when we were back at school, there were already plenty of blokes interested in her.”

“Like who?” Theo asked in a dead serious tone.

Mattheo shrugged, purposely staying silent to annoy Theo. He hauled himself over to the next rock over and crouched. “Weasley, Diggory, Pucey. Hell, I had a crush on her at one point.”

“What?!” Theo exclaimed.

At his outrage, he missed his step and slipped. Theo hissed when his back scraped against the rock. Even through his shirt, the rough, jagged edges stung against his skin.

Mattheo chuckled. “You’re too easy, Nott. I was just fucking with you. Of course I never had a crush on Y/N. She’s like my sister. The others, though. Them you need to worry about.”

Theo fought the urge to smack his friend as Mattheo hoisted him up. He debated tripping him over to see how he liked it, but the others had already caught up with them. Too many witnesses.

You bounded up to him, concern marring your expression. “What did I say?”

Despite the scolding that Theo knew you were dying to give him, you gently lifted his shirt up and examined the scrape carefully. “You’ll be fine,” you murmured. “I’ve got some healing cream we can apply when we get back and you’ll be good as new, okay?”

Theo pouted. “Okay.”

Finally, you sighed and relented. Theo grinned as you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Just be more careful next time, okay, Teddy?”

He nodded and smiled. “Okay.”

Behind you, Mattheo smirked and made kissy faces. What an immature twat.

Theo responded by giving him the middle finger.

Later that night, Theo returned to the villa feeling weary yet glad. While he certainly had fun dolphin watching and cave exploring, nothing topped visiting the temple. Theo wished you could’ve stayed underneath that lemon tree forever. It was a memory he’d cherish for the rest of his life.

As he washed away the remnants of the day, Theo found himself thinking of you. The way you looked at him underneath that lemon tree. Today was special for the both of you. A turning point in your friendship that was impossible to ignore. Even the acolyte commented on the obvious connection between you, cooing over young love. She wished Cupid’s blessing over the two of you, but Theo knew that you didn’t need it. He had known it for some time now.

With a smile, he dried off and slipped into his pajamas. “Y/N? I’m ready for your expert healing now.”

As he walked out into the suite, he found you curled up on the love seat with an open book in your lap and the healing cream curled around your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for him to finish showering. His heart softened at the sight. The day had been long and eventful, no doubt tiring you out.

Wordlessly, Theo put away the book and carefully carried you to the bed. Earlier, you insisted on sleeping there instead of the bed, which Theo vehemently opposed. There was no way he was letting you sleep on the bloody sofa. You stirred in his arms, burying your face in his neck. Theo smiled softly to himself before he set you down. Instantly, you curled up against the pillow. Theo tucked you in and pulled the covers over you as gently as possible.

Leaning down, he kissed your forehead and smiled. “I wished for you, bella.”

271 notes · View notes

cauliflowercounty · 7 months ago

Text

Stuck forever by the... glue? | t.n x fem!reader

summary: you and theodore are quite literally “stuck together”

warnings: a few innuendos

a/n: so i’ve been MIA for a little while but i hope this 4k piece makes up for it 😬😬😬

‘just make it to friday’

These were the five simple words that played in your mind since the beginning of the week.

Maybe it was because your mother had been sending you a letter every day, reinforcing the importance of your success in any exam you are to partake in, or because your professors had seemed to be putting extra pressure on you at the moment, or maybe… just maybe it was because you were simply tired, that every day seemed to be getting harder.

Your friends weren’t much help, it wasn’t their fault, they just couldn’t understand the pressure you had been going through over the past few weeks. You had unintentionally pushed them away.

Friday morning at last.

You had a little while to kill before your first lesson of the day and had decided on sitting in the courtyard.

You were walking towards your usual seat behind the large oak tree when you noticed

a rather peculiar looking sketchbook in its place

You picked it up, and opened the first page, and there in the neatest writing was the words; Property Of Theodore Nott

Great.

You were just admiring the pattern on the front of the book when a hand on your wrist startled you.

Looking up, in all his glory was Theodore Nott.

You didn’t have a chance to fully clock him, when he snatched the book from your hands.

“Did you open the book?” he asked, seeming to be catching his breath

“What?”

“i said did you open the book?” he urged, louder this time.

“No… Nott i didn’t” you answered

“right… well your blouse is undone” he nodded towards your chest.

You gasped slightly pulling your fingers towards the buttons, you felt around for a second until he started laughing “i lied”

“why do you have to be such a dick” you groaned noticing he tried to change the subject away from his sketchbook

“i guess i was born that way” he shrugged, with a slight grin on his face “why do you have to be such a prat?”

“i guess i was born that way” you huffed before walking away from him

Seeing as you had only a few minutes before your lesson, you had decided on going a bit earlier.

Professor Flitwick's classroom was already half-full, the usual chatter filling the air as students settled into their seats.

After what felt like an eternity, Flitwick clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, today we're going to practice some partner work. Pair up and choose the most interesting charm you can think of, the winning pair will be free from the assignment i am giving out later”

You groaned inwardly. Partner work meant having to socialize, something you didn't feel up to after the morning's events. You stayed seated, hoping someone would approach you. Instead, you felt a presence next to your desk. Looking up, you saw Theodore standing there,

"I’ll partner with you” he said taking the seat next to you

You blinked in surprise. Maybe he was trying to sabotage you in revenge of the morning…. but seeing some of the other options for partners, he didn’t seem so bad

"fine"

The two of you moved to an empty corner of the classroom, while you grabbed a study guide to charms.

“We’re not using that” theodore laughed

“well unless you’re secretly a charms dictionary i’m not sure what you think we should use”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a thick grey book, labelled “A masters guide to charms”

“Sorry Nott i didn’t know you were a master” you mocked him bowing your head down

“yeah yeah funny” he rolled his eyes opening the first page to its contents

“how about this one?” you asked pointing to a picture of a beautiful ocean

“no way i don’t really want to drown today”

you glared at his reply

“let’s do this” he hummed

“no way, i’m not turning everything edible”

“boring” he sighed

“lets do this” “we’ll do this”

you both said at the same time pointing to a photo of a man appearing to be stuck to a tree.

After agreeing on the spell and practising it without wands for a little while, You decided you should try it out.

“i have a pencil and a sharpener. Try on them” you said pulling both out your pocket and placing them infront of him

Stepping back you watched theodore perform the spell.

one

two

three

“nothing happened?” you sighed

“i think i can see that myself” he grabbed the pencil and placed it closer to the sharpener

“let’s do it at the same time. That way it might be stronger” you suggested and picked your wand up.

“one” you looked at him to ensure he was doing it correctly

“two” he watched your hands to ensure you had placed your wand at the right point”

“Three!” Just as you both cast your charm, a sudden jolt sent your wands askew. You glanced up in surprise to see Fred and George Weasley barreling past.

"Watch it!" Theodore snapped, but it was too late.

The spell went haywire. You felt a strange pull on your hand and looked down to see your fingers stuck to Theodore's. His eyes widened as he tried to pull away, but your hands were firmly glued together.

"Fred! George!" you called after the twins, who had stopped and were now doubled over with laughter. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, love, it seems we just gave your charm a little nudge," Fred grinned, winking at you.

"we are very familiar with this charm" George added, chuckling.

"So you can fix this?" Theodore demanded, his usual cool demeanor slipping into frustration.

"Afraid not, mate. You'll have to wait it out," Fred said, still laughing. "The charm wears off in a 24 hours."

“Even if we performed it at the same time?” you asked

This seemed to make the twins laugh even harder

“let’s say an estimate of 48 hours then”

As the twins walked away, still laughing, you turned to Theodore. "This is your fault," you accused, trying to free your hand but only managing to make the bond tighter.

"My fault? You're the one who suggested we practice that spell," he shot back, though there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“You said it too!” you argued

“Okay stop pulling! it’s my hand too!” he said

"Well, now what?" you sighed, looking at your joined hands.

“we need to find Hermione"

Theodore sighed "why?"

“because she is literally smarter than you”

Navigating the crowded corridors of Hogwarts with your hand stuck to Theodore's was an exercise in patience.

Students cast curious glances your way, and whispers followed you down the halls. You kept your head down, focusing on getting to the Gryffindor common room as quickly as possible.

As you entered the common room, heads turned, and the chatter died down. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting by the fireplace, deep in conversation. They looked up simultaneously, eyes widening at the sight of you and Theodore hand-in-hand.

"What in Merlin's name?" Ron blurted out, almost dropping the chess piece he was holding.

Hermione stood up, her brows knitting in confusion. "What’s happening?"

You cleared your throat. "We had a bit of a mishap in Charms. Fred and George decided to 'assist' our spell, and now we're stuck like this."

Harry snorted, trying to hide his laughter. "Of course it was Fred and George."

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment as Hermione approached, examining your joined hands. "Hmm, let me see," she muttered, pulling out her wand and waving it gently over your hands. "It's a strong charm. They must have amplified it somehow."

"Can you fix it?" you asked, desperation creeping into your voice.

Hermione bit her lip. "It might take a bit of time. This isn't a simple charm to reverse, especially if they boosted its strength. Let's sit down, and I'll see what I can do."

You and Theodore awkwardly made your way to a nearby table, still joined at the hand. Hermione began leafing through her Charms textbook, occasionally glancing up at your hands.

"Are you sure it wasn't intentional?" Harry teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Shut up, Potter," Theodore shot back, but there was no real malice in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in your face. "Can you please just help us, Hermione?"

"Alright, alright," she said, waving her hand to shush the boys. "I think I found something. It says here that a reversal spell should work, but it needs to be performed perfectly, or it could make things worse."

"Perfectly?" you echoed, feeling a pang of anxiety. "And if it goes wrong?"

"Well, we might end up with more than just your hands stuck together," Hermione admitted. "But don't worry, I've got this."

“Okay i’m ready… let’s do it” you breathed in

“Wait… i can’t do it now, i need some time to practise it. As i said, it could go very wrong of not performed perfectly”

you groaned and fell backwards onto the sofa.

Theodore glanced at the clock on the wall, then at you, his expression shifting to one of mild panic. "I have to cut our despair short. I have Quidditch practice now."

You blinked at him, still processing the absurdity of the situation. "Okay, go then."

He raised your joined hands, giving you a pointed look.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into laughter. Ron clutched his side, gasping for breath. "Good luck at practice, mate!"

Harry smirked. "Maybe you can use the bonding time to strategize."

Theodore rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. "Yeah it’s all fun and jokes now potter, but we have a match against you tomorrow."

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to stifle her giggles. "Alright, you two. I’ll need some time to figure this out. Why don’t you… well, make the best of it?"

You groaned again, feeling the weight of the situation. "Great. Just fantastic."

Theodore tugged gently at your joined hands, pulling you toward the door. "Come on, i don’t have all day."

As you approached the Slytherin locker room, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Theodore seemed to sense your apprehension.

"I need to get changed," he said leading you into the locker room. The room was empty, the rest of the team already on the pitch.

You looked around, feeling incredibly awkward. "Um, how are we going to do this?"

Theodore glanced at his Quidditch uniform hanging on a nearby hook, then back at you. "We'll have to cut the sleeve of my uniform."

You stared at him, unsure if he was serious. "Cut the sleeve? Are you sure?"

He nodded, his expression resigned. "It's the only way. Unless you have a better idea?"

You shook your head, feeling a bit guilty. "No, I guess not. Do you have scissors?"

Theodore rummaged through his locker, producing a pair of small, sharp scissors. He handed them to you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your hands.

"Alright, hold still," you instructed, carefully cutting through the fabric of his shirt sleeve. The sound of the scissors slicing through the material was oddly loud in the quiet locker room.

Theodore watched you, his expression unreadable, but you could feel his gaze burning into you. His breath hitched slightly as you drew closer to his skin, "You're surprisingly good at this," he said

You glanced up at him, surprised. "Really? I feel like I'm ruining your shirt."

He shrugged, "It's just a shirt. Besides, you can sew it back together later, right?"

You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Yeah, I can do that. Don't worry, I'll fix it."

With the sleeve cut, Theodore carefully slid his arm out of the shirt, keeping your joined hands steady. He then reached for his Quidditch uniform

"Now for the hard part," he said, looking at the uniform's sleeve.

You repeated the process, cutting the sleeve of the uniform with as much precision as you could muster. The fabric was tougher, but you managed to make a clean cut. Theodore slipped into the uniform, and you couldn't help but admire how the green and silver suited him. His muscles flexed under the tight fabric, and for a moment, you found it hard to look away.

He smirked teasingly "stop checking me out."

You rolled your eyes, your face flushing. "you’re insufferable… i’m trying to make sure the sleeve fits right," you retorted.

The reality of your situation hit you again as you exited the locker room, your hands still firmly stuck together. Navigating the hallways and the field together was awkward, to say the least.

As you approached the Quidditch pitch, the rest of the Slytherin team was already in mid-practice, flying through the air, tossing Quaffles, and practicing their Beater drills.

The sight of you and Theodore hand-in-hand drew immediate attention.

Draco was the first to approach, a sly grin on his face. "whats happening here?" he laughed, "Nott, I didn't know you needed a babysitter for practice."

Theodore shot his friend a warning look. "Shut up, Draco."

Draco chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “i thought you guys hated each other? when did you make it official?” he laughed louder this time

"You are the only one laughing" theodore said chuckling at him

“i feel sorry for you” draco said towards you “anyway, let’s continue with practise”

You did your best to stay out of the way,

draco had allowed you and theo to simply sit in the stands while someone threw a bludger at him to try and hit.

he clearly didn’t try hard enough as you got hit in your head twice.

A few of the players couldn't resist taking jabs at you and Theodore as they ran past.

"Hey, Nott, maybe she can be our good luck charm!" one of them called out, laughing.

"Or a distraction for the other team!" another added, snickering.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the comments.

“they’re all stupid” theodore would say

Finally, one player took it too far.

"Hey, Nott, why don't you just sleep with her already? Maybe that'll break the spell!"

Theodore stopped dead in his tracks, his face flushing with anger. "That's enough!"

a few members of the team fell silent, taken aback by his outburst. The player who made the remark, Marcus Flint, sneered. "What's the matter, Nott? Can't take a joke?"

Theodore scoffed. "Shut up you tosser, yes, she is a girl, but she didn’t ask to be surrounded by you idiots, so the least you can do is respect her"

You could feel the tension radiating off him, and it was clear that his patience had reached its limit. Flint opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, you stepped forward.

"It’s okay," you said, "We didn't ask for this to happen, but we're dealing with it. So if you're done acting like children, maybe you can focus on your practise."

"Alright, enough," Draco said, his tone firm. "let’s end here today yeah, let’s just hope today was enough to get us our win tomorrow”

As the Quidditch practice ended, the players dispersed, heading towards the locker room.

"I can't go in there," you said, tugging on Theodore's hand to stop him from entering. "I don't want to see anyone...you know, changing."

Theodore paused "Fine, we'll wait out here until they're done."

You both sat on the bench outside the locker room, Silence hung heavily between you, neither of you wanting to break it. Finally, Theodore spoke.

“you should of punched flint, no one would’ve of said anything”

“well, i’m not one to start fights, that would make me reckless” you sighed

Theodore’s smirk widened. “well you did suggest we do this spell” he lifted up your hands “together, that’s pretty reckless.”

“Oh, please,” you retorted, turning to face him. “Like you didn’t push for it too. That ‘I’m a master of charms’ act? Such a joke.”

Theodore’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in slightly. “well you’re always whining about how hard life is. If you’re so tired, maybe you should’ve stayed in bed instead of trying to impress everyone.”

“Impress everyone?” you shot back, your faces inches apart. “Nice try, but your house is all about being superior, right?”

“Well, if we’re talking about superiority,” Theodore said, his breath warm against your face, “maybe you should look at your own house, the loudest bunch of show-offs.”

“Loud?” you challenged, your fingers brushing against his arm. “At least we’re not sneaky and backstabbing. I’d rather be loud than be a two-faced snake.”

Theodore’s eyes flashed. “Better sneaky than a blabbering idiot. At least I don’t go around pretending to be perfect.”

“Perfect?” you scoffed, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his. “You think you’re so high and mighty. Well, you’re not.”

“Yeah?” Theodore’s voice dropped to a low murmur as he leaned even closer. “Maybe I’m just tired of you acting like you’ve got it all together.”

“You mean like you’re tired of being a pompous jerk?” you spat, “I’m tired of your attitude.”

Your faces were so close now. Just as it seemed like something might actually happen, Theodore suddenly pulled back.

“Honestly, can’t we just have one conversation without it turning into a drama?” Theodore said, crossing his arms and turning slightly away from you.

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on handling disagreements?” you retorted,

“Well, you’re not exactly making it easy to like you,” Theodore snapped, turning towards you for the tenth time. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a complete—” you began, but your words were cut off as Theodore’s lips almost touched yours again.

you both sat back

“Let’s just get this charm sorted and go our separate ways.”

You nodded, your jaw clenched.

“your blouse is open” he said staring at the pitch

“yeah nice try”

“i’m not joking” he urged

you discreetly looked down to see that your two buttons were, in fact undone.

you slowly dragged your hand towards your top, pulling theodore’s hand with it.

Your fingers failed to do the button with his hand in the way.

“Nott, please flatten your hand” you said lowly

he cleared his throat “if i flatten it… it would be on your chest”

you breathed out and closed your eyes slowly, before flattening his hand yourself.

Theodore shifted, his hand still pressed awkwardly against your chest. His eyes met yours, and for a brief, unsettling moment, the anger seemed to dissolve into something else.

“You’re such a...” Theodore started

“Don’t start,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You make me feel... things I don’t want to deal with.”

After visiting Hermione, who delivered the disappointing news that you and Theodore might be stuck like this for another day, the reality of the situation set in. The idea of spending an entire night with your hands stuck to Theodore's was less than appealing.

After agreeing on it, you both reluctantly made your way to the Astronomy tower. The tension was high, and you could feel every small touch between you—whether it was Theodore adjusting his position or the slight bump of your hands against each other.

“I guess we should figure out where we’re going to sleep,” Theodore said

“Right,” you replied, trying to sound collected despite the discomfort. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Theodore shrugged, glancing around the tower as if searching for an escape route. “We could just sit here until morning?”

You sighed, feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up with you. “Fine. Just... let’s try to make this as bearable as possible.”

You both found a quiet corner of the tower and made yourselves as comfortable as you could, given the circumstances.

“So,” Theodore began after a moment of silence, “since we’re stuck together, we might as well talk.”

“Talk?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”

“Plenty,” Theodore said with a shrug. “We’ve been arguing nonstop. Maybe it’s time we actually had a proper conversation.”

You considered this for a moment. “Alright, fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Let’s start with why you always act like the world is out to get you,” Theodore said, leaning back against the wall.

You stared at him, taken aback by the question. “What makes you think I act that way?”

“You always seem so stressed and ready to snap,” Theodore explained. “It’s like you’ve got this cloud hanging over you.”

“maybe i do”

A brief silence followed, during which you both seemed to be lost in thought.

“So,” Theodore said, breaking the silence, “what annoys you the most about me”

You laughed slightly. “Your carelessness.”

Theodore chuckled softly. “i care about a lot of things actually”

“yeah? like what”

he stared at you in a comfortable silence, leaving that question unanswered

You smiled faintly

As the evening wore on, you both found it increasingly difficult to ignore the closeness of your situation. The moonlight made even the smallest touches feel more significant.

Eventually, you both fell asleep, leaning against each other for support.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Oh, this is just perfect,” you groaned, pushing yourself up and realizing just how tangled up you were. “We need to get to our dormitories and change. It’s almost time for the Quidditch match.”

You glanced around the tower, feeling the urgency of the situation. Theodore sat up, still a bit dazed, and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Then we need to find hermione”

You both maneuvered to stand up, your hands still firmly attached. It was a delicate balance, trying not to trip over each other as you made your way out of the Astronomy Tower.

The corridors of Hogwarts were quieter at this hour, but you still drew curious glances from early-rising students who whispered and pointed as you and Theodore hurried by.

Once you got to your dorm you instructed theo to turn around while you changed.

after you had gotten ready you both sprinted to the locker room and sighed in relief at hermione waiting there you.

You both lifted your hands infront of her ready to be freed

“i can’t perform the spell”

“what?”

“it’s too dangerous, i even consulted with mcgonagall, she said that we will just have to wait it out”

You sighed, feeling frustration “It’s okay, Hermione. Thank you for trying.”

Hermione gave you both a sympathetic smile. “I’ll head to the stands and watch the match. Good luck”

As Hermione walked away, you turned to Theodore, “I’m really sorry about this, Theo. I know how much this match means to you.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “It’s okay. We’ll have to try and manage.”

The tension between you seemed to dissolve slightly as you both stood there

The Quidditch match was about to start, and with the stands starting to fill up, you found yourselves standing closer than you had all day. The space between you seemed to shrink and In a moment of impulsive decision, Theodore leaned in, and before either of you could second-guess, your lips met his.

When the kiss ended, you pulled back slightly, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. You noticed, with a jolt, that Theodore’s hands were now resting comfortably on your waist. The realization hit you, and you looked at him in surprise. “Theo… your hands are on my waist.”

Theodore blinked, confusion crossing his face, before it dawned on him. “Wait—” he started, looking at your hands which were now free.

You both stared at each other, “I guess we really did have to kiss to break the spell,” you joked with a light laugh.

Theodore chuckled and a genuine smile lit up his face. “I suppose so.”

“Well,” Theodore said, “I’d better get changed before the match starts. I’m sure the team’s been waiting for me.”

“yeah” you said, smiling slightly. “good luck.”

he quickly leaned forward to kiss you one last time before fake saluting you with a smile on his face and turning towards the locker room.

“wait theodore”

he turned around

“your buttons undone” you pointed to his trousers

565 notes · View notes

cauliflowercounty · 7 months ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: sunroof by nicky youre.

🤍 author’s note: wake up babe summer theo just dropped.

Step 1 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

Meet Cute — : A cute, charming, or amusing first encounter between romantic partners.

Every good story starts with a meet cute. Unfortunately for Theo and Y/N, their first encounter happened when they were still both in their mother’s wombs, but I won’t let that deter me. What better way to start off the summer holiday than getting rescued from a remote airport by your knight-in-shining armor with a fresh haircut and a recently acquired driver’s license? Side note: research the credibility of the Ufficio Motorizzazione Civile because whoever granted Theodore Nott a valid license is clearly bloody mental. Regardless, those two will be riding off into the Italian sunset in a brand new baby blue convertible and it’s all thanks to me.

First Year, Hogwarts Express

On the other side of the frosted glass window, the English countryside passed by in a dizzying blur as the rain painted the landscape in a dreary haze. The train left a trail of smoke and steam behind as it journeyed along, bringing you closer and closer to Hogwarts. You shifted in your seat, nearly sliding off the red leather cushion as you trained your eyes on the horizon.

By evening, you would arrive in the Scottish Highlands to begin your education at Hogwarts. When you got on the platform at King’s Cross, you thought that the worst of your anxiety would subside, but it only grew within you like a cresting wave. Being away from home for the first time in eleven years was intimidating enough, but now you had the sorting ceremony to fret over.

Your parents were convinced that you would be sorted into Slytherin as they had when they both attended Hogwarts. Up until now, you were fairly confident in this as well, but the minute you boarded the train, doubt started to rear its ugly head.

You had to be sorted into Slytherin. Not only because you’ve had the green and silver posters hanging in your room since birth, but also because you couldn’t imagine being in any other house.

Just then, the cabin door slid open and startled you out of your thoughts. Theo plopped down next to you and stretched his legs on your lap.

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “There’s two benches in this cabin, Teddy.”

Your best friend grinned, his messy brown hair falling over those moody watercolor eyes. “Yeah, but they’re not as comfy as you.”

His cheeks were rosy from running around the train, but yours were even more flushed in comparison. Theo always had that effect on you. “I found the others, by the way. They’re in Malfoy’s cabin eating their way through a mountain of sweets. Did you want to join them?”

You shook your head, looking out the window. “Maybe later.”

Theo swung his legs over the bench and faced you. “You’re nervous.”

It wasn’t a question. Theo knew you well enough to read your silence.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not to anyone but me,” he said reassuringly. “You haven’t stopped twisting your ring since we left London.”

You looked down at your right hand and surely enough, you caught yourself twisting the emerald ring on your middle finger. It was a nervous habit that you weren't even aware of until Theo pointed it out a few years ago.

That was the thing about your friendship. You spent so much time together that sometimes it felt like Theo was an extension of you. His mother used to say that the two of you were destined to be best friends, given the fact that she and your mum were closer to sisters than friends after forming a lifelong friendship during their time at school.

It was one of the main reasons why the sorting ceremony worried you so much. For your entire life, you had gotten used to doing everything with Theo. The two of you had been inseparable since birth. A part of you had always wondered if you and Teddy would be friends if it weren’t for your mothers.

“What if I don’t get sorted into Slytherin?” you asked in a small voice.

Theo leaned back and tugged at the end of your scarf. “Of course you’ll get sorted into Slytherin.” He smiled, curling his finger around the cashmere material. “Did you know that when we were born, our mums put us in matching green and silver booties? I didn’t endure all that humiliation just for you to back out now.”

“I’m serious, Teddy.” You shoved your hands into your pockets and stared at your shoes. “What if we get sorted into different houses? What if you meet your housemates and decide that you’d rather be friends with them than me?

Theo’s expression softened. “Hey,” he said, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. A stupid sorting hat won’t change that. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He paused, grinning. “Unless you end up in Gryffindor.”

You smacked his arm, trying and failing to fight the smile tugging at your lips. “That’s not funny, Teddy!”

He chuckled. “I’m just winding you up, fragolina.”

For an eleven year old, you suppose that calling a freckled redhead little strawberry was peak comedy. At least Theo seemed to think so.

“Speaking of which, are you sure you’re not a long lost Weasley? Then you’d really need to worry about Godric snatching you up.”

“You are an absolute menace, Theodore Nott.”

Theo grinned. “But would an absolute menace remember to buy you candy?”

He reached into his pocket and held his palm out to you. In his hand sat a familiar purple and gold box that held the best treat in the wizarding world.

“A chocolate frog,” you said with delight. “My favorite.”

“Got it from the trolley. I figured you could use a little cheering up. Though I might’ve accidentally sat on it.”

You giggled, holding up the slightly dented box. “Thanks for the chocolate blob, Teddy.”

Theo grinned. “Any time, Y/N.

Day One, Vallara Floo Station

The phone rang and rang and rang.

You looked around helplessly at the floo station, praying to whatever gods that were listening that Pansy would pick up. Much to your dismay, you were sent straight to voicemail. Again.

“Pansy Parkinson, you better be laid out on a yacht with hot Italian witches dangling grapes into your mouth because that’s the only acceptable reason for not picking up your bloody phone. I swear to Salazar, I think I just told a man that I’d love to pet his chicken. Theo’s never going to let me hear the end of this—”

At that moment, you became convinced that the heat of the Italian countryside had melted your brain because you could’ve sworn that you recognized the familiar laughter echoing from behind you.

“I’m offended, bella. All those years of friendship and yet you’ve never offered to pet my chicken.”

You nearly dropped your phone when you whirled around and came face to face with your best friend. The Italian sunshine had been good to Theo. He looked tanner than when you last saw him, bringing out the moles and freckles that painted his olive skin like constellations. Those piercing blue eyes crinkled when he smiled and the sight of it nearly swept you off your feet.

As if reading your mind, Theo enveloped you into a bone-crushing hug. The scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke enveloped you like a comforting hug. The hem of your gingham sundress billowed as Theo twirled you in the air. You laughed in delight, not caring one bit that the two of you were making a scene in the middle of the floo station. You hadn’t seen your best friend in two months, which was nearly an eternity for you and Theo.

After graduation, Theo had headed down to the Italian countryside to spend the summer with his nonna. Usually, you would’ve joined him, but you were busy visiting family in New York. As fun as the States were, you missed home and you missed Theo — the two of which were synonymous in your mind.

“I missed you, fragolina,” Theo murmured into your hair. You grinned, squeezing him to convey your agreement.

“Missed you too, Teddy,” you said softly. Theo set you down, giving you the chance to fully examine him. He was wearing a white linen button down and cotton shorts, his usual attire to combat the summer heat. Handsome, but in an effortless sort of way.

You cocked your head, running your fingers over his chesnut waves, which were now tinged with gold, courtesy of his constant exposure to the sun. “You cut your hair.”

Theo nodded, running a hand through his cropped cut with a self-conscious expression. “I like it,” you said decidedly. “It looks good on you.”

Satisfaction coursed through you as Theo blushed, his cheeks tinged with pink. It reminded you of the very first time he ever wore his natural waves around you. It was sometime during second year when you both got drenched from the rain at the Black Lake. You ran your hands through his hair, smiling as you told him that you quite preferred his hair that way. Since then, Theo stopped gelling his hair.

“Big changes this summer,” Theo declared with a wink. Without hesitation, he gathered your suitcases and hauled them along like they weighed nothing. To him, they probably didn’t. You could’ve used his strength when you were struggling to lug your bags through customs. “Speaking of, I finally got my license.”

Your jaw dropped. Ever since your dad took the two of you out on a joyride in his beloved vintage Mercedes — Mercy, for short — Theo had become obsessed with learning how to drive. You had no interest in it, but your best friend was absolutely adamant. When he put his mind to something, Theo was quite unstoppable. He even managed to convince your dad to give him lessons. Not on his precious Mercy of course, but on the family car.

“I have no idea why you would want to ride around on a steel trap when there’s a perfectly good tube system at home,” you chided, swatting at your best friend’s arm as he rolled his eyes at your repeated lecture. “But I am proud of you, regardless.”

“Good, cause I’m about to take you on the joy ride of your life.”

You halted as Theo bounced past the entrance, walking right up to a very expensive looking vintage sports car. The baby blue top down sparkled in the sunlight and its chrome interior shined so spotlessly that you could see your reflection staring back at you. Theo gingerly arranged your suitcases in the backseat, careful not to disturb the delicate white leather seats.

“You did not,” you gaped in disbelief.

Theo only grinned. “I did, too.”

He rounded the hood and reached over to pull the door open. You turned back, hesitation written all over your face as you surveyed the car. Despite its vintage style, you knew that it would probably be fast. Too fast for your liking.

“No offense, but are you sure they didn’t make a mistake during your driving test? Maybe they meant to give the license to someone else.”

You were proud of Theo. Truly, you were. But you had been witness to one too many driving lessons where he accidentally ran over the curb or nearly flipped the car from how fast he turned. Needless to say, it didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Your best friend huffed in indignation. “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent driver. Even my examiner said so.”

“She should probably get her vision checked, then,” you murmured under your breath.

“I heard that,” Theo stated with narrowed eyes. He ushered you along, herding you into the front seat. “Your lack of confidence in me is quite frankly appalling, fragolina.”

“It’s not that I’m not confident in you,” you explained as you buckled in. “I’m just not confident that you won’t abuse the poor, defenseless curbs of your homeland.”

“I promise you, I’ve gotten much better since my last lesson. Now sit back, relax, and feel the beautiful breeze of Italia against your skin.”

You did no such thing. You spent the first few minutes white-knuckling the seat cushions. Theo, on the other hand, whistled a happy little tune as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. To his credit, his driving seemed to have improved since the last time you witnessed him get behind the wheel. Enough for you to gradually release the chokehold you had on your seat.

“So, where’s our gracious host? Too busy sipping on limoncellos with pretty stregas to pick up her best friend from the station?”

Theo’s mouth quirked. “Close. She’s trying to keep Malfoy and Riddle from tearing up the villa. They had a little disagreement about the room assignments. Draco wanted the room facing the east side of the house, for an optimal view of the sunrise.” You snorted at Theo’s overexaggerated snooty impression of your blonde friend. “Of course as soon as he expressed this, Mattheo suddenly wanted it for the same reasons. Never mind that the twat rarely wakes up before noon.”

“Another lover’s quarrel,” you said rather sarcastically. “What’s new? Hopefully they kiss and make up before we get back.”

“They’re going to have to,” Theo stated as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m not spending my summer holiday listening to those two twats fighting. I did enough of that at school.”

“How strange is it that we’ve graduated? I swear, it feels just like yesterday when we first got onto the Hogwarts Express. Now you’re driving me around the Italian coast and you haven’t hit a single curb. I wonder what other miraculous things the future has in store.”

Theo snorted. “It’s me and you against the world, bella.”

“The way it’s always been and the way it’ll always be.”

The road curved around a hill, providing you with a breathtaking view of the sunny skies and clear blue water glittering below. Despite your teasing, Theo was doing a great job of maneuvering through the narrow path. He was driving slow and steady, giving you enough confidence to lean against the door and peer at the wonders of Vallara.

Villas with colorful pastel roofs painted the hillside with pops of pinks, greens, and blues, broken up by patches of yellow from the lemon trees swaying in the breeze. The air smelled like sea salt and citrus, mixed in with other delicious smells wafting from the countless restaurants lining the market square. One of them in particular, La Dolce Vita, instantly caught your eye.

“Should we say hi to nonna?”

“She’s busy prepping for dinner back at the house. As soon as nonna heard that you were coming, she insisted on making everything herself.”

“She didn’t have to do that,” you said, smiling fondly in the direction of the restaurant. You adored Theo’s grandmother. She was a strong, loud, and vibrant woman that you’ve admired since you were a little girl. Not to mention, her cooking was to die for. “Although I would kill for her cannolis.”

“There’s a fresh batch waiting for you in the fridge.”

Your mouth watered at the thought. “I’m surprised she’s letting us use the villa. I thought we were banned after Mattheo set off those fireworks in fourth year. I’ve never seen nonna that mad.”

Theo chuckled at the reminder. Thanks to the fire fiasco, the villa had become off limits. Every visit after was to the townhouse in Rome, where she could keep a closer eye on all of you. As beautiful as the city was, you missed the countryside. Life was more peaceful out here — slow and sweet. You were determined to savor every moment before the reality of adult life hit you full force.

“Pansy can be quite persuasive,” Theo replied. “Plus, she promised to wring Mattheo’s neck herself if he tries to stir up any trouble.”

“It’s not a matter of if,” you corrected as Theo pulled up to the private road that led to his family’s villa. “It’s a matter of when.”

Your best friend hummed in approval as the car slowed to a stop. Theo parked his convertible on the driveway and killed the engine as you admired his ancestral home. The quaint country house sat proudly at the top of the hillside, its regal structure looming over the village below. The terracotta roof sloped over the towers jutting out on each side of the massive structure, the seafoam green walls wrapping around the side porch, the rounded arched windows, and the romantic balcony overlooking the blooming garden at the back of the villa. It was just as charming as you remembered.

“Home sweet home,” you murmured in awe.

The wonder of this place never grew old. Theo’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, hauling your luggage over his shoulder and leading you inside. The sunbaked walls greeted you like an old friend, the sea breeze filling the entire place with the scent of salt and citrus from the large open windows. The furniture was mismatched, but in an endearing way that somehow felt like it all belonged together.

You walked between the arched columns leading into the living room, which were bracketed with wooden banisters that overlooked the entire first floor. The further you ventured, the louder the noises echoed.

The sunny kitchen seemed to be the center of activity. You peered inside, smiling instantly when you saw the familiar figure hunched over the stove. Nonna whistled as she stirred the pot, the incredible smell of her cooking hitting you with a wave of nostalgia. Her happy tune was interrupted by the bouncing boy beside her and she tutted at Mattheo as he peered over her shoulder.

“Dio mio, did I not tell you to wait in the living room?” Nonna asked with an exasperated sigh. “You’re making me dizzy with all your bouncing.”

Mattheo smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, nonna. Everything just smells so good. Are you sure you don't need me to taste test?”

“You’ll eat when the food is ready,” she huffed in response. Mattheo pouted in disappointment, his gaze darting to the fridge hungrily. “Don’t even think about touching my cannolis. I made those for Y/N especially.”

“If you’re nice, I might share.”

Nonna grinned as you walked into the kitchen with Theo trailing behind you. She pulled you into a hug, kissing both of your cheeks as you laughed. “Thank God you’re here. This one has been driving me up the wall all afternoon.” Mattheo let out an indignant huff, but nonna ignored him. “Sit, piccolina. I’m sure you’ve had quite a journey. Theo here tells me you visited the States?”

The way nonna crinkled her nose made you giggle. Like every other sensible European, she wasn’t the biggest fan of anything American. “Yes, I stayed with my cousin in New York for a few weeks. It was a fun time, but I am glad to be back home. I’m afraid their cooking isn’t up to par with yours, nonna.”

“This is why you’re my favorite,” she chides, pinching your cheeks. “You’re just in luck then. Dinner will be served soon. If you can stomach it after my grandson’s driving.”

Theo heaved in disapproval, which only made you grin. “It was actually quite a nice drive. The view was stunning and Teddy here managed to get me here in one piece.”

“I’m glad. Theodore has been talking my ear off about it the whole summer. Nonna, I can’t wait until Y/N gets here. I miss her. Do you think she misses me? I hope she likes my car. Don’t you think she’d look quite pretty in her sundress, sitting in the passenger seat?”

Mattheo snickered as Theo cleared his throat. “Alright, that’s enough. We’ll let you get back to your cooking so I can show Y/N to her room, nonna.”

Without another word, Theo wrestled you out of his grandmother’s clutches. Nonna winked at you behind his back, making you giggle. She wasn’t subtle at all about the fact that she wanted you and Theo to be together. Nonna had been hinting at it since you were thirteen.

You trailed after Theo, noting the blush on his cheeks as he climbed the stairs. “Did I live up to it, then?”

Theo scrunched his brows, pausing at the top step to allow you to catch up. His long legs always gave him a rather unfair advantage. “Live up to what?”

“Did I look pretty sitting in your passenger seat in my sundress?”

“Don’t know,” Theo quipped. “You were too busy gripping the seats for dear life to allow me to make a clear judgment.” You rolled your eyes fondly, which made him chuckle. “I’m kidding. Of course you looked pretty. You always look pretty, Y/N.”

Now it was your turn to blush. You bit back a smile as Theo ventured down the hallway.

“I’m still here you know,” you startled at Mattheo’s presence. You nearly forgot that he was following closely behind. “I swear to Merlin, the world could be falling to shit and you two would still be too busy making googly eyes at each other to notice.”

You rolled your eyes at your curly headed friend. “I’m guessing Dray got the room you wanted based on your grumpy behavior.” Mattheo swatted at your hand when you tried to pinch his cheek. “Don’t worry, Matty. There’s always room in the wine cellar.”

He stuck his tongue out in response, followed by a smirk that you knew meant nothing but trouble. “Oh, I snagged the Rose room.”

“That’s my favorite room and you know it!”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. There’s always room in the wine cellar.” You narrowed your eyes before lunging at him. Mattheo laughed maniacally, dodging your grip as he weaved through the second floor. “Guess you and Notty boy are just going to have to double up.”

The little traitor ran straight into your room — his room now apparently — and slammed the door shut. “What does that mean?” you asked Theo.

He shrugged. “Probably nothing good, knowing the twat.”

His suspicions proved to be true when you ran into Draco and Pansy. They both greeted you with hugs, though Draco seemed a little put off.

“Good, you’re finally here!” Pansy exclaimed, brushing her bangs off of her forehead.

“With no help from you, by the way. You said you were meeting me at the floo station.”

“I had to take care of a situation. Theo here jumped at the chance to show off his little baby blue convertible and offered to pick you up instead.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s been buzzing since yesterday. I swear, he doesn’t even try to hide his favoritism.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t strong arm her way into staying at my family’s villa. Not to mention conspiring with my nonna for god knows what else,” Theo added bitterly.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “So dramatic, Theodore.” She pushed the door open to the main suite, revealing the enormous room.

The interior was bright and airy. A fresh coat of pastel pink covered the walls, but the ceiling remained a creamy shade of white with the exposed wooden beams giving the room a cozy and rustic feel. A four-poster bed faced the balcony doors, which provided a view of the gardens below. The salty summer breeze rustled the linen curtains, carrying the pleasing scent of honeysuckle and lavender.

Theo set down your luggage by the tufted velvet sofa. You ventured out through the balcony doors, leaning over the parapet to peer at the pops of pinks, blues, and purples dotting the property. By the poolside, Enzo and Blaise reclined on cushioned chaise lounges, sipping on spritzers and soaking in the sunset. You waved at your friends down below and they returned the gesture, raising their glasses with blissful smiles.

When you turned back around, you found Pansy fiddling with a flower arrangement. She placed it on the table closest to the balcony, smiling to herself when she finally got the bouquet to look the way she wanted. The stunning view, the luxurious vintage furniture, and the intricate fireplace all felt very romantic. After all, nonna did deem this the honeymoon suite, which made you all the more suspicious of why Pansy was suddenly bunking you up with Theo.

Before you could question the witch, she turned on her heel and crossed the suite. “I’ll give you two a moment to catch up, but don’t take too long. Dinner will be served in an hour.” Pansy lingered by the door, a dangerous glint sparkling in her eyes as she winked at the two of you. “Enjoy the honeymoon suite.”

If that wasn’t confirmation that Pansy Parkinson was up to something, then you didn’t know what was. You glared at the dark haired witch, but she seemed oblivious as she skipped off. Probably on her way to meddle in someone else’s business.

“Well, this was unexpected.”

“Tell me about it. Now I have to keep my things tidy or else I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“A messy room reflects a messy—”

“Mind,” Theo finished for you as his lips curved into a smile. “I’m well aware, bella. You’ve been saying it since we were ten.”

“Yet it hasn’t quite sunk in.”

“You’re just grumpy from international travel. I know what’ll make you feel better though,” Theo announced with a sunny smile as he trotted over to the bathroom. You stared longingly at the amenities, which housed a rain shower head, a tiled bench, and a heart shaped tub. “Hop on in.”

“Theodore Nott, is this your way of telling me I stink?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” your best friend said with a cheeky little smile. He plugged his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. You smacked him on the arm, which only made him grin even wider. “Will it help if I hopped in with you?”

A fierce blush crept up to the tips of your ears. “Pervert.”

“What? We used to take baths together all the time!”

“Yeah, when we were three.”

Theo shrugged. “Semantics. I promise not to steal your rubber ducky this time.”

You groaned in frustration, smacking him once more. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Are you sure? I’m a very efficient shower buddy. Just ask Mattheo.”

All the filthy thoughts filtering through your mind only served to make you flush even more. At this rate, your face probably matched your hair. “Get out, Theodore.”

Theo chuckled as you pushed him out the door. It was a feat in itself given the fact that he towered a good foot over you, but you managed to shove him through the threshold. Your best friend chuckled before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Have a good shower, fragolina,” A devious grin tugged at his lips as he paused. “Try not to think of me while you’re in there.”

You rolled your eyes, but the words had already planted a very dangerous seed in your mind. As you stepped into the shower, you were ashamed to say that you failed Theo’s challenge.

This bloody honeymoon suite would be the death of you.

A wave of nostalgia hit you full force as you made your way down the stairs. In the dining room, your friends sat around the large mahogany table chatting and drinking. You exchanged a cheek kiss with Blaise and ruffled Enzo’s hair before making your way over to your usual spot. Theo grinned up at you and patted the seat next to him.

“How was your shower?”

“Fine,” you answered robotically. “Great. Uneventful.”

Theo didn’t miss the way your eye twitched. The twat actually smirked. “I don’t know about that, bella. You sound a little tense. Should’ve taken me up on the offer. I would’ve been more than happy to throw in a complimentary massage. If you asked real nicely.”

You flushed, crossing your arms. “I’d sooner invite Mattheo to shower with me than ask you for a massage.”

Mattheo’s curly head perked up from across the table. “Oh?” Much to Theo’s annoyance, his best friend wiggled his brows and winked at you. “Finally tired of Notty boi, huh? You want a dose of Riddle, babe?”

Before you could deign to respond, Nonna swatted the back of Mattheo’s head. He protested, but she showed no signs of remorse as she took a seat at the head of the table.

“Do not ruin my appetite, Mattheo.” Nonna scolded. “Now be a dear and pass the lasagna. I didn’t slave away in the kitchen for hours just to listen to your lecherous comments.”

At Mattheo’s defeated expression, you and Theo tried and failed in keeping in your laughter. Riddle glared at the two of you, but resigned himself to following Nonna’s orders. As your friends piled pasta onto their plates, a bittersweet feeling rushed through you.

The people seated at this table had been an integral part of your life for as long as you could remember. Pansy, Blaise, Enzo, Draco, Mattheo, and Theo had always been just a couple of steps away, but now that you had all graduated, the seven of you would be scattered in different places. It made your heart ache just thinking about it.

“We still have the whole summer,” Theo whispered softly. He nudged his knee against yours under the table. The familiarity of the gesture brought you comfort. It never ceased to amaze you just how well Theo knew you.

“And the rest of your lives if I have anything to say about it,” said nonna as she filled your glass with red wine. “Smettila di fare il codardo, nipote.”

Theo groaned. You understood enough Italian to know that nonna was pushing her agenda again. “Not this again, nonna.”

“I will not stop until you get it through your thick skull, Theodore.”

As nonna launched into a full on lecture in her native language, you grinned in amusement at your best friend. Theo sulked like a child, but his expression brightened as you knocked your knee against his.

After dinner, you spent the rest of the night camped out on the terrace. The view was stunning as the sun set over the horizon, tinging the villa in technicolor. Your friends gathered around the fire pit, sipping sangria and playing games. As usual, the boys found themselves a few galleons lighter after you swindled them during wizard poker. One would think that they’d learn their lesson by now, but your friends were still determined on risking their fortune against you.

All except Theo.

Knowing that his own mother passed down her skills of deception to you, Theo knew better than to challenge you. Instead, he sat back and watched the boys lose with a smile on his face. When you claimed your winnings, he beckoned you under the blanket and handed you another glass of wine. Though you could’ve easily blamed the sudden warmth on the charmed knit throw or the fine vintage, you had a feeling that the heat had more to do with your proximity to Theo.

The scent of citrus and tobacco overwhelmed your senses as your best friend draped an arm over your shoulder. “Gonna share your prize with me, bella?”

“Seeing as you did nothing to help me, I’m inclined to say no.”

“Of course I helped. I pulled a vintage from the cellar so these idiots would keep playing even though they don’t stand a chance against you.”

You chuckled. “Wine or not, they would’ve lost to me either way.”

“Fine,” Theo said with a dramatic sigh. He pulled you to his side and kissed your temple “Keep your prize. I’ve already won anyways.”

“You’re awfully sentimental tonight, aren’t you, Teddy?”

“What can I say?” Theo mused, his blue eyes piercing into you. “This place brings it out of me. This country, this villa, it’s full of possibilities. Anything can happen here.”

The heat of his gaze seared your skin, but you didn’t look away. A charge of electricity crackled in the air as if in confirmation of your best friend’s statement.

Anything can happen here.

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cauliflowercounty · 7 months ago

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cauliflowercounty · 7 months ago

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fresh out the slammer / theodore nott

PAIRING ex!theo nott x divorcee!reader

SUMMARY post divorce, you decide to move back to england to move on from your late husband. america reminded you far too much of him, but you don't know anyone in england to take you in until you find a flat. other than your ex-boyfriend, theodore nott.

QUOTE "now pretty baby, i'm running back home to you, / fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be too," - fresh out the slammer by taylor swift

WORD COUNT 2.1K

WRITTEN 7.18.2024

you didn't know who else to call when you came back to england. it was expensive to room at a hotel or something similar, so you called an old . . . friend. or maybe more than friend. definitely more than friend.

as you exited the interior of heathrow airport, you made your way to arrivals. your eyes searched the crowd of families and couples happily greeting each other as they departed on their journeys. you felt like a bundle of nerves - you hadn't seen theo in years, not since your regretted post-break up hookup. one that had been humiliating and embarrassing and so shameful for the both of you that you hadn't spoken since. but he was your only friend in england who had responded to your messages.

your eyes fell upon him, finally, looking as well-dressed and collected as ever. he leaned casually against his car, watching you intently. as your eyes met his, he sent you two-fingered salute in greeting, pushing himself off the vehicle to approach you.

"hi," you said breathlessly, nervously, a chuckle leaving your locked lips. you couldn't seem to find much more to say, a bombardment of old emotion overtaking your psyche.

"hello," he responded, his tone nothing but gentle and nostalgic. the both of you shared a look, filled with old memories of the moments you shared, flickers of memories that are now light with the weight they once carried.

the both of you quickly snapped out of it.

"i should probably put this-"

"let me take your bag and-"

the both of you laughed as you stumbled over each other's words. theo took your bag and suitcase, loading them into the trunk before opened the passenger-side car door for you. always the gentleman, he was.

the start of the car ride was filled with awkward smiles and brushes of hands. as theo pulled out the airport, you found a radio station you liked and sat back in your seat, trying to get comfortable despite how tense you were.

"so . . . you were married?" your shocked glance spoke more than the broken sounds leaving your mouth. you had never told him that. "i know, you didn't tell me, i noticed the tan line on your ring finger. your skin is lighter where a ring would have been. so either, you were married or you're married but separated."

you cleared your throat, sitting straighter. "divorced. the papers went through about a week ago. i'm not suprised you noticed . . . you always had a very keen eye, theo." his old nickname rolled off your tounge like smooth, rich honey. it was like trying on your favorite pair of pants - they were molded to fit you and you alone from the years of use. just like that little old nickname.

"i don't mean to pry," he mumbled, diverting his eyes from the road to send you a worried glance. "i'm sorry, that must have been . . . difficult."

"it was," you whispered softly. it wasn't so much that the divorce was difficult, that was perhaps the easiest part for you. the marriage was the issue - he never treated you right. never liked you wanted, never like you had been. maybe that's why you had never loved him entirely. maybe that's why it had been so easy to separate, to pack your bags, move back home, with - well, with your ex-boyfriend. who you had to admit, you had never stopped thinking about, even if he was only a lingering smell or sight within the depths of your memory. "but i've moved on. i like to think moving home will bring back some of my old self . . . as well as a new start. thank you for letting me stay while i look for a flat, i really really appreciate it."

"please, it was no problem," theo responded humbly. "anything i could do to help . . . you."

"your flat is colossal!" you exclaimed, letting out an envious groan at the breathtaking view of london from his flat. your eyes wandered the dull, copy-and-paste monochrome room which theo somehow made feel homey with his choice in warm, wooden furniture. his stylish choice of leaving books on practically ever surface also aided in the apperance of making his apartment feel like a home. it suited him, you thought. "you've made quite the life for yourself, theo. i'm proud. i'd always knew you'd do well in life."

"yes, well, as much as i adore my flat, life is not all about luxury pools and garden roofs," he responded with a simpleton's smile. he made his way toward the staircase and gestured for you to follow. he showed you to your guest room, where he had already taken the initiative to leave out a variety of towels, bath necessities, snacks, and more.

"aw, you made me a welcome basket without the basket," you said jokingly, clutching your heart with mock sympathy. "thank you," you told him, with much more sincerity in your voice this time around. "really, you didn't have to go out of your way to do this for me."

"really, it was no problem. besides, it's nice to have company . . . for once." he awkwardly knocked on the dresser by the door and took a step back. "well, i will let you unpack. i'm cooking dinner soon and no, it is not a big deal, i cook dinner everyday anyways. i'll let you know when it's ready. all right? sooo... just relax."

theo poured generous amounts of wine into two classes, one for each of you. he say across from you at his charming dining table, taking a small sip of his drink and shutting his eyes as he appreciated it's unique taste. letting out a content sigh, he returned his gaze to you. "are you doing all right, considering . . . well."

you felt awkward discussing this with him. your divorce. as though it were rude or inappropriate to do so. "i, um, i already know it was ending long before the relationship ended so by the time it was all over, i think i got over most of it. i'm just happy to be back home. home being england - not that this doesn't feel like a home, it does, it's just not . . . my home and now i'm blabbering and this is really weird," you said with a chuckle, digging into the beautiful meal theo had cooked for both of you.

"you always do that when you're nervous," theo said lightly, an affection to his tone. "there's nothing to be nervous about." with a few taps of his phone, the room was bathed in the smooth saxophone and jaunty piano of 50s jazz that you both loved so much. "relax. it's all right."

"how have you . . . been? i hear you're making your way up in parliament. they talk about you in the news now. i remember when the only way i'd hear about you was during uni, when your best friend would run to my dorm to tell me you'd gotten black-out drunk," you recounted with a reminiscent chuckle, taking a sip of wine.

"ah yes, blaise," theo grinned widely at the mention of his best friend. "he'd always have my back. and if he didn't, he knew you would."

"do you remember that one time you both had taken shots of fire whiskey and stole every whiteboard marker from all the classrooms in the humanities building and hid them in secret locations, and then when you woke up, forced me to come help you search all across campus to find them and put them back before class started on monday?"

his expression softened, his eyes crinkling as he remembered his university days of tomfoolery and shenanigans. "i'm suprised you remember . . . university was so long ago."

"it was when i was happiest," you replied with a soft smile, meeting his eyes and glancing away from him uncertainly. you let out a nervous chuckle, taking another bite of your food. he was still . . . just how you remembered him. it didn't matter that he was some important government man now, he was still the same theo you knew.

"have you found a job here yet?" he asked. despite our small talk and the music flowing through the room, it somehow felt completely silent.

"erm, no, not yet. i've been looking, but you know how hard it is."

theo stared at you for a long moment before wiping his face and standing up from his chair. "get up," he said to you with that signature grin of his - it was obvious in his eyes, he was planning something.

"what?" you asked with a laugh.

he approached you, grabbing your fork from your hand and placing it delicately beside your half-eaten dinner. he held out his hand to you. "up. we're going to dance, loosen up a bit. like old times, yeah?"

the phrase like old times brought back a number of memories, all from the time when the two of you were still together. the late nights wrapped in each other's arms, tipsy and laughing so hard you'd fall to the floor. later, sitting on the windowsill and discussing deep topics in great length. early morning, the sun rising over the horizon just as your back arched, slumping back into the sheets. the smell of moscato and cigarettes.

you tried to remind yourself, that was a long time ago, as you took his hand.

he swept you off your feet, twirling you around until you were wrapped in his arms, your back against his chest, as he swayed you to and fro. his head rested against your shoulder, his breath tickling the very edge of your collarbone. "small talk is all so . . . needless, isn't it?" he asked, scrunched his nose up.

"yeah," you responded with a chuckle. he spun you back out and grabbing your hand, pulling you close so you were face to face, waltzing across the kitchen floor. "this is much better."

you didn't need to talk. you only needed to feel. theo hummed to the tune of the music and you closed your eyes, swaying with him. "you're still amazing at dancing - i'm afraid i've grown clumsy out of practice," you told him as you almost tripped over his foot.

"yet i still somehow seem the same elegant and sophisticated woman before me," theo responded with a grin and an arch of his brow.

"i wouldn't use those two words to describe me in university." you grimaced as your mind was filled with images of all your most embarrassing university moments.

"well, you smart and beautiful and had this moxie." he had such passion in his tone - it felt like university again with each passing minute. "like the leading lady of any black-and-whife film. like . . . hedy lamar!"

"you flatter me, theodore nott," you said, waving him away with an embarrassed flush of your cheeks. the music swooned through your ears, the artist singing about true love, and the both of you fell into silence. your eyes somehow always found a way to meet up again, but quickly they separated like two schoolchildren in love. "you're not so much different either. just as witty and polished as the day we met."

"you mean i haven't grown handsome in my old age?" he questioned in a dry, mock sense of hurt. "you wound me. i really thought this peppered look was working well for me."

"it is," you sputtered out, both to comfort him and to be honest, but once you said it, it felt much more like an admission of feelings than anything. you blushed and stared down at your feet. "i mean, it - um - you look really great."

"you look great too." when you raised your head, finally meeting his eyes once more, something electric passed through the both of you. the awkward tension from the past day had finally built up against a dam, broke through the wall, and exploded into a river of unexplored territory.

before long, he was leading you to his bedroom, hands desperately clutching your cheeks as he rougishly pressed his lips against yours. clothes were discarded, glances were shared, and by the end of the night, you were tangled in each other's arms. like old times.

"this makes things complicated . . . doesn't it?" theo asked, trailing his finger across your bare back.

you stretched your neck to turn and observe him. your hand outstretched, you placed it upon his cheek and rubbed it soothingly. "it doesn't have to be complicated, theo. i . . . i want you."

"i want you too," he replied, leaning forward and pressing a not-so-chaste kiss to the interior of your collarbone. "in every way i can have you. sleep here tonight?"

"for you, theo. only for you."

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