#nott in the moonlight

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where you scold theo for dozing off

a/n - was inspired by this post + a tiktok I saw where this girl was talking about how her boyfriend games till like 3 am with his friends but nods off at like 9 pm with her and all the comments were like girl he's so relaxed w you cuz of how much he loves you and it was all just soooo cute 😭😭 anyways enjoyyy :))

tropes/warnings - flufffff, eepy theo, established relationship, cuddling idk

word count - 830

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @iamheretoread1234

"Teddy."

"Teddy?"

"Theodore."

One hard shove to his sternum later, Theo's eyes flew open.

"'M up - "

You gave him the stink eye as he coughed sporadically, choking on his saliva. You sniffed disapprovingly.

"Honestly, Teddy. I didn't bring you here to nap."

Theo glanced around incredulously. The two of you were sitting on a picnic blanket on the side of a grassy knoll on the other side of the Great Lake. After indulging in some chocolate-covered berries, a sleepy, hazy kind of quiet had descended on the hill in that late afternoon sun. In short, it was a perfectly comfortable setting for napping.

He winced, rubbing at his sternum. "Oh, c'mon. You feed me these - these fuckass strawberries - "

"Don't talk about my strawberries that way!"

" - then you lie me down and expect me to stay awake? It's warm out, cara. I sleep warm. You know I sleep warm."

Scoffing, you lie down next to him, muttering darkly under your breath. Still, you can't resist running your fingers through his hair, gently raking at his scalp. It's an addicting thing, watching the tense parts of his face relax, watching that crease between his eyebrows disappear. Some of your earlier anger dissipates.

“You are so easy,” you tease, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Only for you, amor,” he murmurs, voice low and knowing.

Your face burns. “Merlin, shut up.”

Chuckling, he stretched his arms over his head before letting them fall lazily back down, one draping across your back. He tugged you against him, his warmth seeping into you.

"How is it that you can stay up till 3 am with your friends, but ten minutes with me and you're out like a light?" you mused. You pull your fingers away from his scalp.

"Am I that boring, Theo? Do I put you to sleep?"

Theo huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers ghosting over your shoulder before settling there, warm and grounding. His other hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer.

"Obviously," he murmured, voice still thick with drowsiness. "You drone on and on - "

A sharp pinch to his ribs cut him off, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. "Fuck - alright, alright." His grip tightened, holding you in place before you could enact further vengeance. "You don't put me to sleep."

Theo's half-lidded eyes fluttered shut again, his breathing evening out. His fingers resumed their slow tracing along your arm, dragging lazy patterns that sent shivers up your spine. As your own eyelids grew heavier, your eyes drifted over the lake’s glimmering surface.

"Actually," you murmured after a beat, pressing your cheek against his chest, "this is quite nice."

Theo made a show of pretending to shove you off.

"I see how it is," he grumbled as you laughed. "When you want to doze, it's perfectly fine, but Merlin forbid I"—he poorly stifled a yawn, blinking blearily—"get a little shut-eye."

You scoffed. "This is different. Even logistically speaking, how am I supposed to drag you back to the castle? You sleep through anything, Nott."

Theo grunted. "And you sleep through absolutely nothing."

You smiled lazily against his chest, knowing exactly what he meant. Many a night, he'd creep into your dorm, taking great pains to quietly shuck off his jacket and shoes, only for you to stir the second the mattress dipped. He’d scowl at you in the dim moonlight as you blinked at him sleepily, voice hushed but teasing as he slipped under the covers beside you. Every single time, he’d scold you for staying up, telling you in that firm, low voice of his to go to sleep, as if he hadn't been the one showing up at your bedside to begin with.

"Maybe you should try staying up with me for once," you said idly.

Theo snorted. "You'd make me watch those god-awful Muggle films."

"You love my god-awful Muggle films."

He hummed, neither confirming nor denying. You tilted your head to look at him, absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair again.

"I just wish you'd save some of that energy with the boys for me."

Theo sighed, long and slow.

"Can’t help it," he mumbled into your hair, fingers ghosting over your arm. "You’re so...warm. And soft. And you smell - " he dropped his head to the hollow of your neck as he inhaled, holding you close even as you squirmed in his ticklish hold, "- like that. Like...home. Like love."

You could sense him dropping off again in the way his words slurred and his voice quieted. He was probably too drowsy to even know what he was saying. For a moment, all was silent except for the rustling that came with the occasional gentle breeze. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him pressing into your side.

Maybe you should shove him awake again. But then again…

You nestled closer to him, your own eyes drooping shut.

Maybe not.

[daisydrabbles]

Maybe it's the Moonlight

- Theo Nott x Female Reader

Pairing: Tutor!Theo Nott x Good girl!female reader

ⓘ When I write within an academic setting it’s a university au and therefore all characters are over 18!

Warnings: slight dubcon, dirty talk, fingering, corruption, praise, mild degradation, power imbalance, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex (there’s literally nobody around but still it’s a public place)

Summary: Theo has been assigned to tutor you in astronomy, but his methods are a little… unorthodox (they involve fucking)

Word count: 3.1k

‘I didn’t take you for the type to sneak out past curfew, doll.’

You looked up from your seat on the edge of the Astronomy Tower to see your devastatingly handsome tutor staring down at you.

As one of the brightest in your year, it was incredibly frustrating to you that you were almost failing astronomy. What was even more frustrating was that Theodore Nott, the infamous man-whore who’d probably never stepped foot in the library (for reasons other than making out behind the bookshelves), was top of the class.

When you requested additional help, you expected to be partnered with someone like Hermione Granger - someone as studious and academically motivated as you. Yet here you were, meeting with one of the most attractive yet most troublesome boys in school.

You two were the definition of an oxymoron: you; good, innocent and studious, juxtaposed with him; bad, corrupt and carefree.

‘I’m normally not,’ you said defensively, ‘but I really need to pass this class.’

‘And you want my help.’ he smugly added as he sat down next to you.

Immediately, you felt some weird tension between the two of you. Why did he look so happy to be here? And why was he wearing such a predatory smile on his face?

Maybe it’s the moonlight you told yourself, as you made a mental note to reschedule your next session for a more civilised location, despite the fact that this one was undeniably practical - what better time and place to study the stars?

You cleared your throat and flicked through the pages of your textbook, feeling rather shy, and desperate to get this study session over with as soon as possible. ‘So, what first?’

Theo tutted and plucked the dusty old book from your hands, before he carelessly chucked it over his shoulder. ‘What’s first is I wanna hear you say it: Theo I need your help.’

‘Hey I needed tha- what?’

He was already having fun with your new dynamic. Whilst you were disappointed with your assigned tutor, he was pleased. In astronomy, the only class you shared, he would watch you intently - in a way not dissimilar to how lions stalk their prey. You were too perfect… he thought often of inviting you over and corrupting you; fucking you senseless and leaving enough marks on your body to prove it. However he knew you would never agree to hang out with him outside in a social setting - his academic arrangement was a perfect way to get you alone.

‘You heard me, miss high-and-mighty, I want you to say the words.’

‘Why?’ you crossed your arms in protest. You didn’t want to admit to needing anyone, especially not Theo Nott.

‘Cos you think you’re better than me,’ he said simply, ‘yet here you are about to fail astronomy, expecting me to help you pass it. You almost sound entitled really, maybe I should just go-‘

‘Fine.’ you cut him off, which only made him grin and look at you expectantly. ‘Theo I… I need your help.’

‘Good girl.’ his grin widened hearing you say those words, whilst simultaneously your eyes widened hearing his response. What did he just call you?

‘Why did you want me to say it so badly?’

He shrugs. ‘What man doesn’t want a pretty girl to say she needs him?’

Cheeky bastard. Nevertheless, you felt your cheeks heat up against your will. He thought you were pretty. Not that that should’ve meant anything, coming from someone like Theo Nott. He was notorious for being a womanizer. A playboy. A man-whore. You so badly wished his reused words had no effect on you, but they did. Looking down at your lap you prayed that your flush wasn’t noticeable in the darkness, for you were almost embarrassed at how he could fluster you with so few words.

It was very noticeable.

At least, it was for Theo, who had been seeking such a reaction and had therefore picked up on it immediately. He wasn’t entirely sure if you even wanted to study at all when you suggested meeting in the Astronomy Tower, with it being a primarily regarded by students as a hookup spot. It surprised him that you actually brought textbooks and came with the intention of learning.

He had other ideas.

He was sick of girls throwing themselves at him, this time he wanted a challenge - but he didn’t just didn’t want any challenge, he wanted you.

He wanted to shut your smart little mouth up with his own; he wanted the satisfaction of taking someone so smart and fucking them dumb. The dirty-minded boy found it cute that you’d so innocently suggested the meeting in the middle of the night - that the impure thoughts he was thinking hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Clearly you hadn’t considered your choice of clothing either. He didn’t miss the way the wind was causing your little pleated skirt to fly up, nor the way your tight blouse clung to your curves and accentuated all the right places. Places he’d love to touch; to kiss.

Alas, he would have to settle for letting his mind wander for now. As badly as he wanted to fuck you, he did also commit to helping you. His hands would have to wander later. Wander up to your perky tits, down to your sensitive cunt…

‘Anyway,’ he shook his head to rid himself of his horny thoughts, ‘is there an area of study you’re particularly struggling with?’

‘Star charts.’ you admitted, your shoulders slumping.

Theo looked as though he was trying his hardest not to laugh at you. ‘Star charts?’

‘You’re supposed to help me, not mock me.’ you deadpanned.

‘I’m sorry,’ he chuckled, ‘I just find it amusing that someone as intelligent as you can’t read a fucking star chart.’

‘I can read a star chart just fine. I just can’t…’

‘Use it to navigate the sky?’ he offered.

‘Exactly!’

Unable to help himself, he dropped his voice to a low and seductive tone and leaned into your ear. ‘Well I’d be more than happy to make you see stars.’

Theo’s hot breath on the side of your neck combined with his dominant tone caused a gush of wetness between your legs. Discreetly, you squeezed your thighs together, silently willing yourself to break free from whatever trance he’d put you under.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Theo, who was thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm.

‘I- if you don’t wanna help me that’s okay but I think maybe I should-‘

‘Believe it or not,’ he cut you off, his tone surprisingly gentle, ‘I’m actually trying to help you.’

A puzzled look appeared on your face. ‘You threw my textbook away when I tried to open it.’

‘Well, let’s not live in the past.’ he waved off your statement, holding out his hand for you to take. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘With what?’ you eyed him skeptically.

‘Jesus are you always this tense? It’s a yes or no question, doll.’

After a moments hesitation, you answered; ‘Yes… yes,I trust you.’ and took his hand.

That was all the confirmation he needed to yank you onto his lap, causing you to let out a little gasp. Sitting on Theo Nott’s lap was not how you envisioned spending your study session, but you were hardly complaining. The faint aroma of cigarettes and the sound of his racing heart should be distressing - a sign of danger, even - but you felt oddly calm. Your back was towards him so you were both facing the night sky as he asked, ‘Can you point out Andromeda for me?’

The feel of his hardening bulge underneath your ass had momentarily stunned you, and you stuttered trying to answer his question.

‘Just relax…’ his fingers caressed your exposed thighs comfortingly, slowly working their way upwards, meeting the hem of your mini skirt.

‘What are- shouldn’t we study first?’ You grabbed his wrist to stop his fingers going any higher.

When you said first, implying that you would be interested in having sex with him later, he felt his cock twitch. Finally, you were granting the opportunity for him to make you his. Luckily for the both of you, Theo was great at multitasking.

‘Tut tut, do you want to get better at astronomy or not?’

Well yes, but you couldn’t see how him touching you was going to help with that. ‘I-‘ you were cut off by your own whimper as you felt Theo’s fingers graze over your clit through your underwear.

‘Then let’s try again. Where’s Andromeda?’

At first, his fingers lightly circling your clit were too much of a distraction. It was obvious he had experience, because he knew exactly how hard to press to satisfy you but still keep you coherent. After a moment of getting used to the sensation, your brain was clear enough to answer his question so, using your finger, you traced the outline of the constellation in the sky.

‘That was correct, clever girl.’

‘Wait, really?’ you bounced up and down in excitement, making the boy underneath you groan at the feeling of you pressing on his hard cock. ‘How did you teach me to do that without teaching me anything?’

‘Your problem is you think too much. I thought if I helped you… relax, you’d be able to focus on astronomy a little better. Clearly, I was correct.’ Theo moved his hand inside your underwear and slipped a finger inside your wet hole. ‘Well done.’

Your mouth falls open at the feeling of his long finger deep inside your tight cunt, stroking your inner walls. As determined as you were to not be another one of his silly hookups, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny the pleasure he was giving you.

‘Fuck, doll, who knew a good girl like you would be this wet for someone like me.’

Theo’s finger teased you for the next twenty minutes as he asked you various Astronomy-related questions, which you answered correctly. He was right, you were clearly thinking too hard at something so simple, and his fingers pleasuring you rid you of all the unnecessary thoughts, allowing you to focus solely on the stars. Every now and then, Theo would increase the pressure on your clit or thrust his finger deeper, just to see you cut yourself off mid-sentence with a moan or a whimper induced by his touch.

‘Theo…’ you whined after answering a dozen questions about constellations, looking up at him. You were asking for something, but you weren’t quite sure what. Just something more.

He pushed a second finger inside you, curling them upwards into you slowly as his palm pressed against your clit. Watching you writhe on top of him and hearing you moan made his dick throb in his trousers, as he internally tried to decide between bringing you to your climax on his fingers first or just freeing his cock and fucking you raw right away.

‘Yeah, amore? You like being finger-fucked out in the open?’ he whispered, even though there was no chance of you being seen or heard by anyone at this time. His words went straight to your core and his previously slow pace started to quicken as he felt you clench around his digits. ‘Fuck- yes right there.’ you cried, feeling his long fingers hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

Not long after, he retracted his fingers, smearing your wetness on your clit teasingly before removing his hand from your underwear altogether. The new, empty feeling made you whimper.

‘Why’d you stop?’ you pouted breathlessly whilst you turned around in his lap, now straddling him.

Locking his eyes on yours, he brought the two fingers that were previously buried inside you to his lips and licked off all your juices. ‘So sweet.’ he muttered to himself, probably not intending for you to hear. ‘Because,’ he said louder, ‘I want to make you cum on my cock, if you’ll let me.’

Your eyes flick down to his now rock-hard erection, still trapped inside his trousers. ‘Yes, please…’

‘Atta girl… but first, let’s get these clothes out the way, shall we?’

You nodded frantically, tugging at the hem of his t shirt as he unbuttoned your blouse to reveal your tits sitting perfectly in a lacy white bra. ‘These are fucking gorgeous.’ he palmed them before reaching round to unclip your bra. ‘I can’t want to watch them bounce as I fuck you.’

He pulled away briefly to discard his own shirt before flipping you both over. How he revelled in the sight of you underneath him, all exposed and desperate. Theo knew that you weren’t like him; you weren’t the type to sleep around. He was honoured to be making you feel this good, and he wanted to make sure you had as much fun as he knew he would have.

After pulling off his trousers he guided your hand to his bulge, making you feel him through his boxers. ‘Can you feel how hard I am for you, amore? How desperate my cock is to sink itself into your pretty little cunt?’

He leaned down to give you a passionate kiss, his thumb finding its way to your clit. Your fingers found his waistband and tugged on it, indicating that you wanted him to discard them. He obliged.

Pulling away from the kiss, your jaw dropped as you saw his erection finally spring free, hitting his stomach. It was bigger than you could’ve imagined, and you suddenly found yourself conscious of how large he was in comparison to you.

‘Theo that is not gonna fit inside of me.’

‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ he yanked your skirt and your underwear down with one harsh tug, leaving you entirely on display for him. With one movement of his hips the tip of his cock found your dripping wet entrance, and he pushed it in it in ever so slightly. The stretch makes you moan; his cock was way thicker than his fingers. ‘See that, doll, your warm little cunt is practically pulling me in. I told you I know what’s best for you.’

Tugging at his brown curls at the back of his neck, you hum in agreement. ‘Please… I need you.’

‘I didn’t even have to ask you to say it that time.’ he grinned before he bottomed out inside of you making you cry out. A bulge was visible in your stomach where is cock was deep inside you, still whilst you adjusted to his size. ‘You okay, pretty girl?’ All you could do was nod, not trusting your mouth to form coherent words with the boy who was meant to tutor you buried to the hilt in your dripping wet cunt. ‘Words, please.’ he commanded as he grabbed your jaw to bring your face closer to his.

‘Yes I’m- I’m more than okay just please…’

‘Please what?’

‘Please fuck me.’ you said in a small voice, surprised at yourself for saying it outright. At your request he started to move, making you bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sensation.

‘Don’t hold back, amore. Your sounds are as cute as your face, I wanna hear them all.’

And with that he began to pound in and out of you, immediately picking up a harsh pace. His large hands pinned your wrists on either side of your head so you could make no attempt to cover your flushed face or muffle your breathy moans. He was no hypocrite either, groaning into your ear letting you hear just how much he was enjoying fucking you raw.

It was even more erotic than he’d imagined. He’d managed to turn a tutoring session with the schools resident good girl and turn it into a scene straight out of a porno. The sight of your tits bouncing as your tight, warm cunt took his thick cock was one he wanted engrained in his memory. Fuck, if you weren’t on a hard wooden floor he’d be tossing your little body around in all sorts of positions. And god, how he wanted to taste you; to suck on your sensitive little clit and lick up your sweet juices. The opportunity hadn’t arose in this particular occasion, but it only motivated him to get you in bed again.

‘You feel fucking incredible.’ he groaned, earning only a whimper in response. ‘Bet you couldn’t answer any astronomy questions now, hm?’

You shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut as he hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. ‘N-no, I-‘ his pace didn’t falter as you felt yourself clenching around him, orgasm building up - if anything, it quickened.

‘Cos I’ve fucked you senseless, haven’t I?’ Although you could hear him, you couldn’t respond. His voice was muffled and your vision was clouded, your pleasure was so overwhelming, you couldn’t think straight. ‘You like going dumb on my dick?’

Theo could tell you were close, so he brought a thumb to your clit, adding pressure in circular motions. That’s all it took for your orgasm to come crashing over you. ‘Theo, I’m-‘

‘Do it. Let go. Cum for me.’

And you do. Just as he promised, you swore you saw stars whilst he fucked you through your high and chased his own. He didn’t slow down to accommodate your now increased sensitivity - his need almost became primal as his thrusts got sloppier the closer he got. ‘Gonna fill you up with my cum, doll. Real deep.’ he grunted in your ear, feeling his own orgasm building. The pressure from your tight cunt felt like heaven to him, but mostly it was the way you were looking at him that pushed him over the edge, like he’d just taken you places you didn’t know you could go.

You both moaned as you felt his hot cum spill into you, marking you as his. And you were his, now. He’d ruined you for anybody else; he’d moulded you to fit him perfectly.

After pulling out, he laid down on his side next to you, tracing mindless circles around your navel.

‘That,’ you inhaled shakily, ‘was amazing. Are you okay?’

His eyes, which had previously been fixed on the sight of his cum leaking out of your hole, snapped up to you. By the looks of it, people don’t normally ask him that after sex, and you immediately felt as though you’d said something wrong. That was, until you felt his hand cup your cheek. ‘Careful, doll, you’re really making me want to keep you.’

‘What?’ you roll onto your side to face him.

‘Nothing.’ he sighed in content. ‘I’m great, are you okay?’

‘Amazing. Same time next week?’ you attempted to joke.

‘Same time tomorrow.’

[theosang3ls]

Why do you care?

pairing: Theodore Nott x Female!Reader

Warnings: mentions of break up, smoking, mentions of consumption of alcohol, fluff (i think?), cheating.

summary: Theodore was always distant, reserved and cold, not just with you but with everyone, so when he comforts you at the Astronomy Tower you feel like you get the chance to explore a more vulnerable, more human side of him.

A/N: this is a bit short but I really liked how Theo showed a softer side of him. English is not my first language! Enjoy Lovelies!

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Your arms barely held up the weight of your head, trembling under the burden of your grief as tears cascaded down, staining the cold stone floor of the Astronomy Tower. Each ragged breath felt like shards of glass scraping against your throat, each sob a raw, involuntary

Your arms cradled your heavy, dizzy head as tears etched silent trails down your face, darkening the ancient stone floor of the astronomy tower. Each tremor of your body, each shuddering sob, was a raw outpouring of heartbreak—a painful replay of the scene that had shattered your world. The flashbacks from the scene before you replayed in your mind in a taunting matter, reminding you of the love you lost; your soon-to-be-ex boyfriend pinning a mysterious girl against the cool stone wall of the Ravenclaw common room, the party still raging around them.

The image seared into your memory: him, not just kissing, but hungrily consuming her in a way that mirrored the passionate kisses he reserved for you—only this time, it was her, not you.

Every detail burned itself into your consciousness. You fled in a desperate, heartbroken sprint, burdened by an avalanche of shame and betrayal. In that agonizing moment, the realization struck with brutal clarity: you had been nothing more than a fleeting amusement, a mere jest in his twisted game. The questions crashed over you—did you ever truly matter? Had his affection for you been a cruel illusion? These thoughts would haunt you indefinitely, gnawing at the remnants of your shattered self-worth.

As your anguished cries filled the silent gaps between your sobs, your body shook uncontrollably. Your lips, trembling and raw, echoed the fury and despair of your soul, while your eyes burned fiercely from the torrents of unrelenting tears.

Eventually, the physical pain of crying subsided, leaving you numb and exposed. In the stillness that followed, the creak of wooden steps echoed through the tower—a harsh reminder that, even in your most vulnerable state, you were not alone in your suffering. The mere thought of someone witnessing your devastation—puffy eyes, disheveled hair, and makeup smeared like the remnants of a battle—sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over you.

You barely had the energy to lift your head. Your body felt hollow, like something vital had been scooped out of you and left behind in that suffocating common room, along with your dignity, your trust—your heart. But the sound of slow, measured footsteps against the stone forced you to glance up, your breath catching in your throat.

Theodore Nott.

Of all people.

Why him?

You never spoke much, never exchanged more than fleeting glances in the library, polite nods in the common room. He was distant, untouchable, a figure carved from ice and shadows, too indifferent to be part of your world. And yet—he was here.

Standing at the top of the stairs, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, Theo’s sharp gaze flickered over you, taking in the wreckage you had become. His eyes lingered on the way your arms wrapped around yourself, like you were physically trying to keep from unraveling, on the tear-streaked devastation painted across your face.

You braced yourself for a scoff, a sneer, the usual sharp-edged indifference. But it never came.

Instead, he exhaled—soft, measured—and stepped forward. His hands slipped into the pockets of his robes, his expression unreadable, as if he was weighing his options. Stay. Leave. Pretend he never saw you like this.

Then, in a voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the dull, agonizing ringing in your ears, he asked,

“Who was it?”

Your stomach twisted violently. Did he already know? Did it even matter?

You swallowed, but the lump in your throat refused to go down. “Doesn’t matter,” you croaked, barely above a whisper. It hurt to speak. It hurt to breathe.

Theo didn’t react right away. He just watched you, his gaze dark and calculating in a way that made your chest tighten. Then, slowly—cautiously—he moved again, stepping closer like he was approaching something fragile, something that might shatter if he wasn’t careful.

And maybe that’s exactly what you were.

He crouched down in front of you, and for the first time since he arrived, the mask of indifference slipped—just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something unexpected. Concern.

“You look awful,” he murmured. But there was no mockery in it, no teasing. Just blunt honesty, spoken so softly it nearly undid you.

A weak, broken laugh escaped you. “Yeah, well… I feel worse.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. You were waiting for him to leave. Because that’s what people did, wasn’t it? They left. They always left.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Theo exhaled through his nose and reached into his pocket. A moment later, something soft was pressed into your trembling fingers.

A handkerchief.

You stared at it, at him. The gesture was so unexpected, so strangely intimate that your breath stuttered in your chest.

“You—”

“Just take it,” he muttered, his gaze flickering away, as if the act of kindness itself embarrassed him. “Your face is a mess.”

Something inside you cracked.

No one had come looking for you. No one had cared enough to check if you were okay. But Theo had. And he didn’t just see you—he stayed.

Your fingers curled around the fabric, gripping it tightly as another tear slipped down your cheek. Before you could wipe it away, Theo sighed. And then—without thinking—he reached forward, his touch featherlight as his thumb brushed against your skin, wiping it away himself.

It was barely there. A fleeting, delicate moment. But his hand was warm.

Steady.

Real.

Theodore didn’t move away after wiping your tear. Instead, he let out a slow breath, shifting his weight before lowering himself onto the cold stone floor in front of you. He leaned back against the railing, long legs stretched out, his posture lazy—too lazy, like he was trying to seem unaffected by the way you were falling apart right in front of him.

You watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. The soft click of his lighter echoed in the empty space between you, and for a brief moment, the flickering flame illuminated the sharp angles of his face—the defined cheekbones, the slightly furrowed brow, the lips parted just enough to take in a slow drag.

He exhaled, the smoke curling around him before dissolving into the cold night air. The scent of it—earthy, bitter—drifted toward you, oddly grounding, though it shouldn’t have been.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Theo made no move to ask what was wrong, didn’t press for an explanation. He just sat there, the steady rise and fall of his chest the only movement besides the occasional flick of ash from his cigarette. It should’ve been uncomfortable, the silence. But it wasn’t. It was a relief.

“You smoke?” you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, raw from crying. Theo flicked his gaze toward you, raising a brow slightly before taking another slow drag. “Occasionally.” You watched the way his fingers curled around the cigarette, the way his lips parted to exhale another stream of smoke. He made it look effortless, like something he did purely out of habit, not addiction. “Helps with the noise,” he added after a moment. You frowned. “What noise?” He tapped a single, long finger against his temple before looking away. “The kind that doesn’t shut up.” Something about the way he said it, so casually yet so weighted, made your chest tighten. “You?” he asked, flicking ash onto the stone floor. You shook your head. “Never tried.” “Probably for the best.” His voice was quiet, but not condescending. Just matter-of-fact.

Another pause. Then, without looking at you, he asked, “Do I get to know what happened, or am I supposed to guess?”

Your throat tightened. Did you want to say it out loud? Would that make it more real?

Theo didn’t rush you. He just waited, his cigarette burning down between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

Finally, you exhaled shakily. “He cheated on me.”

The words felt like glass, sharp and cutting, even as they left your mouth.

His cigarette remained poised between his fingers, unmoving, as if even he needed a second to process the weight of what you had just said. Then, slowly, he brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply before exhaling a cloud of smoke that dissipated into the night.

“Bastard,” he muttered, his tone flat, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable. A bitter, humorless laugh escaped you. “Yeah.” Silence settled between you again, thick and suffocating. You wrapped your arms around yourself, nails digging into your sleeves as if you could hold yourself together long enough to make it through the night.

“Do you still want him?” Theo asked suddenly. You flinched, your fingers clenching. The answer should’ve been easy.

No, of course not. I’m not that pathetic.

But the truth was murkier, tangled in the ache in your chest, in the echo of the betrayal still fresh in your mind. “No,” you admitted, but your voice wavered. “But it hurts.” Theo nodded slowly, as if he understood something you didn’t. “It will,” he said, his voice quieter this time. “For a while.” You swallowed against the lump in your throat, your hands twisting the fabric of the handkerchief he had given you.

“I feel like an idiot,” you choked out, your voice barely holding together. “You’re not.” his response was immediate, not allowing this thought to unravel more in your mind. You flinched at the certainty in his tone, your breath hitching as you finally forced yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes—usually cold, distant—were anything but indifferent now. There was no pity in them, no empty reassurances. Just something solid, something unwavering. “You trusted someone,” he said, slow and deliberate, like he needed you to believe it. “That doesn’t make you stupid. It makes him a fucking fool.”

A sharp breath left your lips, something fragile cracking open inside your chest. You searched his face, half-expecting to find the usual detachment lurking beneath his words—but it wasn’t there. Not tonight. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words unsteady, like they might break apart if you spoke them too loud. It felt too small, too inadequate for what he’d just given you, but it was all you had.

His expression didn’t shift, but something in his eyes flickered—just for a second. You had spent so long memorizing the way he kept himself walled off, how carefully he measured his words, his presence, his warmth. But now… now there was no distance between you. No armor. Just him. Just this.

His fingers twitched at his side, like he was fighting some instinct to reach for you. Instead, he exhaled, slow and controlled, before saying, “You don’t have to thank me.” A pause. Then, softer, like it wasn’t meant to be spoken aloud, “You didn’t deserve that.”

Something heavy settled between you, something unsaid but undeniable.

The words hit harder than you expected. Your boyfriend’s touch was still burned into your skin, his betrayal still playing on an agonizing loop in your mind—his hands, his lips, his urgency, all for her, not you. And here you were, falling apart, while he was probably still at that party, laughing, drinking, touching someone else like you don't mean a damn thing to him. Your breath shuddered, a fresh wave of pain surging up your throat. But this time, something else was there too. Theo’s words, grounding you, anchoring you.

He didn’t tell you to move on. He didn’t tell you it would be okay. He just sat there, looking at you like you mattered. Like you were worth more than the way you were breaking. You wiped at your face again, the handkerchief damp with your tears.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Theo stilled.

For the first time that night, he hesitated. His jaw tightened slightly, his fingers curling into his palm before he exhaled sharply, almost as if annoyed with himself. “Dunno,” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours, something unreadable behind it. “Maybe I just don’t like seeing you like this.” you looked up at him, you were slightly shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. Theo had always been distant, unreadable, sharp edges and cold indifference. But right now, sitting in the dim light of the Astronomy Tower, his sharp edges seemed softer.

Your chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath shaky, as if your body wasn’t sure whether to cry again or collapse under the weight of it all. The cold stone beneath you bit through your robes, but it was nothing compared to the cold spreading in your chest, the hollow ache left behind by what you had just witnessed.

Theo watched you for a moment longer, his gaze unreadable. Then, with another sigh, he leaned his head back against the stone railing, eyes flickering up toward the night sky. “You should hate him,” he said, almost lazily, but there was a sharpness beneath the indifference. Your fingers clenched the handkerchief tighter. “I do.” It wasn’t a lie. You hated him for what he did, for throwing everything away so easily, for making you feel so small. But beneath the anger, the betrayal, the heartbreak—there was still love, twisted and broken, but love nonetheless. And that was the part that hurt the most.

Theo hummed as if he didn’t quite believe you. “Good,” he muttered, exhaling slowly. “Because if you went back to him, I’d have to kill him myself.” Your head snapped up, startled. He wasn’t looking at you, still staring up at the stars as if the words he just mouthed weren’t something sharp and violent, as if they didn’t leave a strange warmth curling in your stomach.

“That’s a bit… extreme, don’t you think?” you murmured, your voice hoarse but laced with something close to amusement.

Theo shrugged, finally glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Not really.” Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t joking. Maybe he wouldn’t actually kill him, but he meant it. If your ex walked up here right now, Theo would have no hesitation in making him regret it.

Why?

The thought sent a fresh wave of confusion through your already-overwhelmed mind. “You’re acting like you care,” you muttered, turning your gaze back to the floor, tracing the cracks in the stone with your tired eyes. “You never even talk to me.”

Theo didn’t answer right away. You expected him to brush it off, maybe throw some sarcastic remark back at you, something to keep his distance intact. But when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

“I notice things,” he said simply.

You frowned, looking up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Another slow inhale of smoke, another exhale. “It means I’ve seen you,” he said, finally looking at you fully, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. “I’ve seen the way you hold yourself together even when people don’t notice you breaking. I’ve seen the way you laugh at your friends’ jokes even when your eyes don’t match. And I sure as hell saw the way you ran out of that party like you couldn’t breathe.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

He had seen you.

You thought you had been alone in your heartbreak, thought no one had noticed the way you fled from the party, shattered and humiliated, choking on the betrayal. But Theo had. And now, sitting here, offering you quiet comfort in the way only he could, you realized he had been paying attention this whole time.

“I don’t know why I came up here,” he admitted, his voice low, almost hesitant. “But I did. And I’m not leaving unless you want me to.” and with those words for a few moments the world stopped spinning, as simple as it was as a phrase, it held a lot of weight, it was a form of confession you couldn’t completely grasp.

Theodore Nott, cold and distant and unreadable, had come here for you. And in a world that suddenly felt unbearable, he was giving you a choice, a sense of control when everything else had crumbled beneath your feet.

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A/N: should I make this a slow burn series????

!Reblogs and Likes are highly appreciated¡

masterlist

…until next time lovelies💋

[prythiansprincess]

MOONLIGHT

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: moonlight by kali uchis.

🤍 author's note: high! theo is the best kind of theo. gif credit to @dramaticals

A thick cloud of smoke permeated the air, making the room as hazy as your drug addled mind. Theo shifted in your lap and silently held the joint up to your lips. You smiled down at your best friend, his watercolour eyes as red-rimmed as your own yet still full of that familiar sharp intensity as he watched you with curious intent. Wrapping your lips around the blunt, you shied away from his gaze and inhaled generously. 

As the smoke filled your lungs, you felt your body relax. With an exhale, the terrible day you endured was gone in a breath. You rested against the headboard and let your eyes shut close. Theo traced circles on your skin, happily humming away while you scratched his head. Smoking always made the two of you more touchy and giggly, blurring the lines even more than they already were. 

Not that you were complaining.

A late night smoke session was exactly what you needed. Usually, the two of you would be indulging in Neville’s newest strain up in the Astronomy Tower, but thanks to the storm raging outside, you and Theo were confined to his dorm instead. 

In all honesty, you didn’t mind. Especially since Theo had a generous stash of snacks to pilfer through. 

“This new shit is strong,” Theo remarked, coughing a bit as he waved away the smoke. Above you, rain drops pelted the skylight in a soothing rhythm. “How does Longbottom even come up with this stuff?” 

“Because,�� you drawled, every syllable slow and syrupy. “Neville actually pays attention in Herbology instead of skipping class and getting into fights.” 

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, bella,” Theo pouted as he poked his nose against your stomach. “Didn’t you get detention for taking a swing at Cho this morning?” 

“She called me a slag,” you recalled with a frown. While you had no problem with Cho, she seemed to have a problem with you. All thanks to a certain Hufflepuff. Theo tensed underneath you, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “As if it’s my fault her boyfriend can’t stop staring at my arse.” 

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve taken care of it.”

You sighed deeply. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you, Teddy. You tend to be a little overdramatic.” 

“Me?” Theo asked incredulously as he placed the joint on its holder. “Overdramatic? That’s absolutely absurd.” 

“I know you hated Cedric. When we were dating, he told me you threatened to beat his face in if he ever broke my heart.” Your best friend began to protest, but you held your hand up. You didn't fault him for being overprotective. After all, you've been friends with Theo long enough to know that this is just how he showed that he cared. “I'm not mad. I just didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.” 

“That stupid prat poured gasoline on the fire and lit the goddamn match the day he made you cry.” Theo ranted, his eyes glazing over with fury. “I should've made good on my promise to beat his fucking face in. He’s lucky you stopped me before I sent him to the infirmary.”

"It's not worth it, Teddy."

Your best friend shook his head. "It's always worth it when it comes to you."

“You shouldn’t get into trouble just because I have terrible taste in men.” Time and time again, Theo warned you about the guys you chose to date, but you were too stubborn to listen. You laughed humorlessly. “I really know how to pick them, don’t I?”

“Hey,” Theo whispered softly, tracing soothing circles on your back. “It’s not your fault your ex-boyfriend’s a prick. He’s an idiot for fumbling you.” 

You smiled as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Thanks, Teddy.” He hummed and squeezed your hip. “It’s not like I’m that broken up about it. I’ve just come to accept the fact that my love life is a complete shit show.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

“Don’t get me wrong, Cedric had his moments, but even when things were good, it always felt like something was missing. We just weren’t compatible,” you paused as you considered your words. “Cedric and I weren’t a good match. Mentally, emotionally, and physically.” 

Theo cocked his head curiously. “What do you mean?” 

Given your longstanding friendship and history, there were virtually no secrets between you and Theo, but there were aspects of your past relationship with Cedric that you weren’t as forthcoming about. Your best friend wasn’t exactly your ex-boyfriend’s biggest fan, so you skimped out on on the details to keep the peace. That was long gone now.

“Our sex life was kind of…bland.” 

Piercing blue eyes zeroed in on you. “What do you mean by bland?” Theo pushed himself upright, his face mere inches away from yours. “Was it just missionary and a polite handshake afterwards? Honestly, Diggory seems like the type.” 

You snorted in response. Theo wasn’t that far off the mark. “Basically, yeah. I just don’t think we were sexually compatible. Plus, he never wanted to go down on me.” 

Theo looked absolutely appalled. “What?” 

“Well, we tried and it didn’t really work. It’s not his fault, though. Oral just doesn’t do it for me. I’ve never…” you flushed as you rushed past the embarrassment of admitting such intimate details to your best friend. “I’ve never finished that way. I think it’s just a me problem.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Theo said matter-of-factly. “Cedric ate you out once, couldn’t make you cum, and then made you think it was somehow your fault?” 

“Cedric wasn’t a dick about it or anything,” you said rather lamely. “He just never tried again, so I figured that was that.” 

“That’s a fucking shame.” 

You shrugged. The past was in the past. It wasn’t like you could change things now. “It’s alright. Like I said, maybe it’s just not for me.” 

Theo stared at you. “You’re just saying that because he didn’t do his job properly.” 

You rolled your eyes in response, playfully smacking his arm. “And you’re suddenly an expert on the matter, Teddy?”

“I sure am,” Theo exclaimed proudly. “Cedric’s a coward for backing out after the first try. I mean, sure, it took me ages to get the hang of it, but now eating pussy is my favorite thing in the world.” 

Heat flooded your cheeks. Part of it was shock and the other — well, you didn’t want to think of what that other part might mean. Talking about sex wasn’t anything new for the two of you, but it was always in a teasing way. It was never quite this personal. 

“Oh,” you said after a moment. Theo watched as you shifted, trying to alleviate the building pressure between your legs. “I didn’t realize…” 

“That I love eating pussy?” Theo asked with a smirk. You knew he was doing it on purpose. He never missed out on the chance to tease you. “I’m really fucking good at it too.” 

You didn’t doubt it. While you tried not to feed into the rumors of your best friend’s bedroom habits, you knew that he was much more experienced than you were. Judging by the longing stares that followed in his wake, Theo wasn't the type to leave his lover unsatisfied.

After a moment, Theo spoke. “I can show you,” he rasped, that thick Italian accent of his bleeding through the words like it did every time he smoked. “If you’d like.” 

You blinked in surprise, practically gaping at your best friend. “You want to eat me out?” 

Theo nodded, his eyes dipping to your mouth as you anxiously chewed on your bottom lip. “More than anything in the fucking world.” 

The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. “Let me show you how it’s done, bella,” Theo whispered as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Though the action was innocent, his words were far from. “I’d get on my knees and beg for a taste of you. I promise not to stop until you’re a crying, whining mess for me.” 

Desire bloomed in your core, filling your stomach with butterflies. Fuck, why was that the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to you? What were you supposed to do? Refuse? That wasn’t even a possibility at the moment. After all, you were just a weak, weak woman. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” Theo asked softly. 

“Yeah,” you answered confidently. ��I trust you, Teddy.” 

Theo smiled and leaned forward to place a kiss on your temple. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now lay back, I’ll make you feel so good, bella.” 

A nod was all that you could muster as you settled amongst the pillows, watching with rapt attention as Theo crawled between your legs. He kept his gaze on you as he kissed your neck, his lips soft and warm against your skin. You leaned into his touch as he licked along your collarbone, his big hands slipping underneath your bra. Theo unclasped it quickly, nosing at the straps before kissing down the valley of your breasts.

Those dead eyes came to life as he flicked his tongue over your nipples, sucking on them until they stiffened. You shuddered in response and Theo savored the tiny whimper that slipped past your lips. After showing your breasts ample attention, he continued mouthing at your torso, nipping and biting on the way down. Every sensation was heightened by the weed, your body buzzing even at the simplest touch. 

Theo parted your legs and maintained eye contact as he toyed with the tops of your knee socks. He smirked and kissed the spot right above them. “We’ll keep these on, yeah? I like when you wear these.” 

You held your breath when he bunched up your skirt, leaving filthy, open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs. His breath felt cool on your core yet your entire body ignited into flames as Theo kissed you through your lace panties. 

You gasped in surprise, bucking your hips against his mouth. “Oh, fuck…” 

Theo hummed against you. “Does that feel good, principessa? I haven’t even started yet.” 

With a cocky smirk, Theo slid off your panties and groaned. You were embarrassingly wet, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he relished it. Theo teased two fingers along your folds, spreading your arousal and watching as your slick soaked him. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” His eyes were nearly black, swallowed by lust as they flickered up to your face. “I bet you’re sweet too.” 

Theo popped his fingers into his mouth, pretty eyes rolling back as he sucked them clean. “Gods, you’re so fucking delicious. Better than I imagined.” 

You whimpered, pressing your thighs together to tamper the need. Theo shook his head before prying your legs apart and diving in. When he dragged his tongue through your folds, you writhed underneath him, eager for more. The first lick had both of you moaning. He hummed in appreciation as he hooked your legs behind his shoulders. 

He chuckled darkly, before biting softly at the flesh of your thigh. “You like that, huh, bella?” 

You panted, frowning down at him. “Stop being a tease, Teddy.” 

“As you wish.” 

His dark head disappeared between your legs, silky brown waves slipping through your fingers as you held on for dear life. Theo wasted no time in showing off his skills, poking and prodding with his tongue. You tugged at his hair as he sucked on your clit, lightly grazing his teeth against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Theo popped up to take a hit off the joint before passing it over to you. His slender fingers held them up to your lips before slinking down to continue eating you out. As you held the smoke in your lungs, you inhaled deeply, letting the drug that was Theodore Nott singe your veins. 

Nothing in this world could've prepared you for this moment. Theo wasn't exaggerating his skills. If anything, he underplayed just how good he was. Theo switched strategies often, starting off slow and sweet before swirling and sucking, fucking you with his tongue like he’d never get another chance to taste you again. Once in a while, he’d come up for air, smiling as you offered the joint to him. 

Mostly, Theo was focused on feasting. He made out with your pussy shamelessly, making it as sloppy and messy as he possibly could. The higher you got, the more sensitive everything felt. When Theo found a particularly sensitive spot, you arched your back and nearly scorched his sheets with the joint. 

Theo only chuckled before taking it from your hands and putting it out. “You’re on fire, bella. But I’d prefer if my sheets weren’t.” 

You smiled shyly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” 

He flashed a boyish grin back. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that we didn’t do this sooner.” 

“Me too, Teddy.”

He smiled softly at you. “Sei la donna più bella che abbia mai visto.” 

Before you got the chance to ask what he said, Theo pulled you by the ankles and picked up where he left off. He made good on his promise, driving you to the brink until you were writhing and whining. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you gasped, moaning his name in the night like a prayer. It only encouraged Theo to show off even more, using a combination of his mouth and fingers. His middle and pointer finger slid inside of you easily, squelching while he worked you tirelessly. 

There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind as you lost yourself to pleasure. When Theo introduced a third finger and flicked his tongue on your clit, a rush of heat flooded your body. 

“Oh gods, Theo. Please. I’m so close. Fuck — ” 

“C’mon, cara mia. Cum for me.” 

Theo watched as your orgasm rocked you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. He lapped you up like a man starved, not wasting a single drop. You tried to fight the overstimulation by squirming away from his mouth, but Theo merely held your hips down. 

“I’m not done,” Theo warned with a growl. “Stay still, principessa. You wanted me to eat your pussy? Then be brave enough to fucking take it.” 

When he brought you to your second orgasm, you were gasping for air. You roughly tugged at Theo’s hair, eliciting a filthy moan from him. Despite this, Theo was still decidedly not done. As the third orgasm approached, you screamed before squirting and soaking right through the sheets. 

With wide eyes, Theo stared up at you. “Have you ever done that before?”

You flushed, embarrassment heating your cheeks as you shook your head. “No — I — I didn’t even know I could do that.”

Your best friend smiled, brushing your hair back gently as though he hadn’t just made you see Merlin. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “Was it okay? I mean, was that too much? Oh god, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Theo said in a stern voice as he tipped your chin up. “Don’t ever apologize. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I like knowing that I’m the only man that’s ever made you squirt.”

“You’re not mad?” You sniffled, lower lip trembling. “I ruined your sheets.”

“Fuck the sheets." He caressed your cheek, gazing deeply into your eyes. "It's still me. Your Teddy. There's nothing that you could do that would make me mad. You're perfect, Y/N."

Theo kissed you softly, his lips pressed firmly against yours to emphasize the words. He was your Teddy. He always would be.

"You're really good at that, by the way."

Your best friend smirked, the cocky grin tugging at his lips. "Oh yeah? I couldn't tell by the way you kept screaming my name."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not going to compliment you if you're going to be so cocky about it."

He cocked a brow before kissing the sweet spot beneath your ear. "What are you going to do about it, principessa?"

"No fair. You play dirty, Theo."

Your best friend smiled, taking in your flushed cheeks and kiss bitten lips. In one swift move, Theo pinned you underneath him. "I'll show you just how dirty I can get, bella."

He wrapped a hand around your throat possessively and pulled you in for a kiss. You moaned into his mouth, dizzy with desire. Theo slid his tongue against yours and claimed you with a groan. 

"This — this is what it should feel like. This is what Cedric failed to do. That stupid prick should’ve worshipped the ground you walked on, but he didn’t. He missed his chance. It’s my turn now.”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, Theo squeezed your ass as he grinded his erection against your core. Even through his sweatpants, you could feel how big he was. You bucked your hips in response, rubbing against him for more friction. 

“Oh fuck, don’t do that,” Theo panted breathlessly. “I won’t be able to stop.” 

“Who said I wanted you to stop, Theo?” 

Theo cursed up a storm, a mixture of Italian and English that sounded equally hot. “I want you so fucking bad. You’re all I ever want, Y/N.” 

You smiled up at him, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “Then have me, Teddy.” 

It was like a flip switched inside of him. Theo crashed his lips against yours, frantically tugging your skirt off as you pushed his sweatpants down. They were barely halfway off before he was lining up at your entrance. 

Theo pressed his forehead against yours. “Deep breaths, baby.” 

Though you were sufficiently warmed up, you knew it was still going to be a stretch. His tip was barely in and you were already gasping for breath.

“Theo, fuck. Oh my god.” You clawed at his back as he inched inside. “You’re so big. I can’t — “ 

“You can, principessa. I know you can. We’ll make it fit, yeah?” Theo stroked your cheek, giving you time to adjust. “So fucking tight. I can feel you stretching to take all of me. Just a little more,” he slid in further, watching your expression intently to ensure that he wasn’t hurting you. “That’s it. Good girl.” 

When Theo finally filled you to the hilt, he pressed down on your stomach, marveling at the tight fit. You whimpered in response, clenching around his cock and making him groan. 

“Can I move, principessa?” 

Tears filled your eyes, but you wiped them away and nodded bravely. “Yes.” 

To his credit, Theo went sweet and slow as you adjusted to his size. He seemed attuned to what you liked and what you didn’t like even without having to utter a word. You weren’t surprised. Theo had always known you better than you knew yourself.

It took some time, but eventually the pain subsided to give way to pleasure. You kissed Theo as he thrusted into you, feeling every delicious inch of him sliding in and out of your pussy. He was going slow for your benefit, but your impatience craved more. It turns out that when it came to Theo, you were an all or nothing kind of woman. 

“Theo, please,” you pleaded through tears. “Please, I need more. I need all of you.” 

A feral expression crossed Theo’s handsome features before he hiked your ankles over his shoulders and drove in harder. His thrusts were deep and punishing, setting your teeth on edge as he fucked you into the mattress. Theo pinned your arms above your head, watching himself slam into you again and again. 

“I love watching your pretty cunt take all of me,” he murmured, intertwining your fingers together. “You’re a fucking goddess, baby. Dea mia, I’ll worship at your altar.”

“It’s never — I’ve never felt like this with anyone else,” you admitted.

Theo softened, his tender gaze drinking you in. “It’s never felt like this with anyone else for me either, bella.” 

You pulled him down for a deep kiss, the intimacy of the act surpassing lust and physical attraction. A spark awakened within you, like finally accepting an inevitable truth. 

The thread snapped and you allowed it to wash over you like a wave, the orgasm even more intensified than the first three. Theo followed soon after, panting into your neck as he emptied himself inside of you. He whispered your name, collapsing beside you when he finished. 

The two of you lay side by side, stunned into silence. You felt breathless and boneless, not quite believing that you just had the most mind blowing sex with your best friend. 

Theo glanced over at you. You glanced back at him. The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, breaking the tension. 

“Well, fuck.” 

He rolled over on his side, tracing your lips with his thumb. “Is that good or bad, tesoro?”

“Good. Definitely good.”

Theo smiled and kissed you softly. 

“I meant what I said,“ you breathed as he pulled you to his side. “I’ve never felt like that with anyone else.” 

“I know, bella.” Theo hummed in agreement, snaking an arm possessively around your waist. “You were made for me. Just like I was made for you.” 

“You knew it would feel like that?” 

He grinned. “I had an inkling.” 

“What did I tell you about teasing me?” 

“I’m not,” he said earnestly. “I knew it would be you since the moment we met.” 

The realization from earlier reared its head as you snuggled against him. “We’ve never been just friends, have we?” 

Theo shook his head. “Not for a single second, dea mia.”

[cherrixpie]

TO DIE IN YOUR ARMS TONIGHT

-> when his sister attends a slughorn party with a date, mattheo asks his best friend to watch over her at the party, oblivious to the fact that theo is exactly the type of guy he wants to protect her from.

-> brother's bsf!theodore nott x riddle!reader; eventual nsfw; minors dni; cw: attempted harassment, mentions of violence, self-doubt, smut; nsfw tags: oral fem receiving, soft dom!theo, dirty talk, lots of praise; sadly there was some error with the tags and I couldn't tag some people, but I still hope you all found your way here!

part two here

( masterlist )

The Astronomy Tower loomed high above the castle grounds, bathed in the silver glow of the moon. It reflected against the fragile stargazing instruments and illuminated hastily drawn star charts, carelessly left behind on desks. The parchment swayed gently in the light breeze. A chill clung to the stone, the wind whispering through the open archways, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers from the greenhouses below.

Occasional gusts of wind ruffled the edges of Theo’s robes as he leaned against the stone railing, lazily rolling a cigarette between his fingers. The flick of his lighter cast a brief, golden glow across his sharp features- dark brows drawn in quiet focus, the angle of his jaw, the faint shadow of his curls. The ember flared as he took a slow drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the cold night air.

The hurried sound of footsteps echoed from the stairwell, unmistakable, even if it hadn't been a nightly recurrence. Theo didn’t turn; he didn’t need to. He knew that stride, the way it carried that reckless edge of carelessness, like the world bent around its owner rather than the other way around. When Mattheo stepped into the moonlight, Theo paid him no mind.

As usual, he displayed quite a different way of carrying himself compared to Theo, as many fates the two boys might have shared. Mattheo’s dark curls were disheveled, his tie loosened to a proletarian extent and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, as if he hadn't bothered with them in the first place.

Upon spotting Theo’s dark figure against the railing, he strode towards him and leaned his forearms against the metal as well. “You’re early,” Mattheo muttered, his voice low and rough around the edges. Not that he had checked the clock, but their nightly habit of going for a smoke to the astronomy tower was so well established even the slightest changes stood out like a sore thumb.

Turning around to lean his back against the balustrade instead, Mattheo shoved his hands into his pockets and tilted his head slightly until Theo glanced back at him. Not even Theodore Nott’s cold demeanor could deter Mattheo from flashing a grin and indicating the burning cigarette dangling from his fingers. “Got another?” He caught the pack of smokes when Theo threw it over with the aim of an experienced chaser, and shook out one to light it and take a long drag out of it. The smoke from his cigarette mingled with the cloud curling lazily from the other’s lips and disappeared into the night.

For a few minutes, there was a silence, though not uncomfortable. Rather established, like they had practiced it a million times before. Which wasn’t that far from the truth. Only, today, something was different. As Theo's observant eyes spared Mattheo's oddly tense figure another quick glance, they didn't miss the way he squeezed the smoke tightly in his hand and tapped his fingers against his thigh in an irregular, agitated rhythm. He wasn’t one to pry, a quality he knew Mattheo appreciated about his company, so he simply took another drag of his cigarette and waited for the other to reveal the source of his irritation.

As he’d thought, he didn’t have to wait long- Mattheo had a certain need for communication, at least with him. “Do you know that Campbell guy?” he asked gruffly, clear disdain laced into his tone. When Theo’s brows furrowed, Mattheo twisted his cigarette in impatience, causing embers to rain down upon the stone floor where they faded into darkness. Since Mattheo wasn’t bloody for once, Theo could only assume Campbell still had it coming for him. “Bloke from Gryffindor. Seventh year. Ring a bell?” he elaborated darkly and glared at one of the instruments.

It did. Terry Campbell, a Gryffindor with the head of a bowling ball and the intellect of a demented slug. No wonder he had felt no desire to remember him by name, Campbell was everything he despised cramped into a single person: a loud-mouthed, ignorant, vainglorious and utterly unintelligent Buffoon, lacking all forms of taste, too loud to listen and to dumb to learn. The sort of person that tended to irritate and bore him at the same time, the worst combination for Theo.

Blowing another stream of smoke into the frail moonlight, he let out a small scoff. “What about him?”

“Well,” Mattheo pressed through gritted teeth, in a particularly bitter tone. “He’s taking my sister to Slughorn’s party on Saturday.”

Fuck no.

Instead of smoke, Theo seemed to have swallowed a mouthful of ice as his insides twisted like a vice. A sick, burning coiled in his cut as he turned, abruptly, to Mattheo, full of disbelief. “What?” he asked sharply, all sophistication forgotten in the wake of this news. There was no way in hell you were going to Slughorn’s party with Terry Campbell, your brother had to be joking. Merlin, how he desperately wished he was.

Mattheo seemed to share the sentiment, judging by the looks of his bitter curl of lip and the way he flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding his boot down on it hard. “Yeah,” he muttered gloomily. “I can’t fucking believe it, I though she had some standards. I’m telling you, she’s just picked him to annoy me!”

But his raging fell on deaf ears as Theo turned away and stared down on the greenhouses, a sharp, ugly weight settling in his chest. No reaction too intense could betray the surge of hate that was welling up inside him, or your brother would know, would piece it together… Brutal, white-hot anger pulsed through him, but Theo kept his hands still and his features unmoved, safe for a subtle clench of his jaw. Theo had mastered the art of keeping his composure, but he was faced with a challenge now.

You. Going to one of Slughorn’s stupid parties with Terry Campbell of all people. He squeezed the smoke out between his fingers, the embers burning into his fingertips and the pain helped him to regain his self control.

Unlike him, you’d taken advantage of your invitation to go to Slughorn’s parties before, but you’d never had a date. If Theo was honest with himself, he wouldn’t have taken kindly to anyone taking you out on a date, quite the opposite, but he couldn’t believe that someone like you would lower themselves onto Campbell’s level. He’s pretty popular, a small voice remarked, but he shut it up immediately- you were everything but shallow. Even insinuating it was ridiculous. But what on earth were you thinking?

Maybe Campbell was the only boy at school you wouldn’t feel sorry for when he inevitably landed in the hospital wing- as the few dates you’d ever had had done after Mattheo found out about them. ‘She’s not yours’ the voice in the back of his head reminded him, ‘you have no right to meddle in who she’s dating’. And it was true. Unlike your brother, Theo still had enough sense to remind himself that you could do what you wanted, could date who you wanted, could take anyone you wanted to Slughorn’s party. It was your decision, as much as he hated it, detested the very thought. He knew you, you had to have put some thought into your decision.

“Listen, mate,” Mattheo said, striking a new tone. He now seemed strangely business-like, leaning over on the railing and looking to meet Theo’s gaze. “‘M not part of Slughorn’s club. I know you hate his parties, but-”

Theo sensed where he was going with this and grabbed his pack of cigarettes back from Mattheo, taking one out before storing it deep in his coat pocket. Damn it, he’d promised you only to smoke one per smoking session. But these were quite challenging circumstances to keep up his promises. As he flicked the lighter and ignited the smoke dangling from his lips, Mattheo leaned in conspiratorially.

“Fucking hell, you know I wouldn’t be asking you this if I saw another way! Come on, you’re almost as bad as me when it comes to watching out for her. So when I’m not there? Go full big-brother mode.”

Theo’s lips curled sarcastically as he huffed out another cloud of smoke. Little did your brother know that his protectiveness over you didn’t stem from any platonic or even sibling-like urges. Little did Mattheo know that Theo was one of the boys he would love to approach with a club, one of the boys who enjoyed your company a little too much, whose eyes lingered on your lips when you laughed, who relished even your most fleeting touches and glances. Who pictured feeling your lips on his in moments of every-day boredom and trusted the night with his dark, guilty dreams of worshipping you like you deserved, fucking you stupid, having you writhe and moan in his sheets.

“I’m not saying you should start something,” Mattheo pressed on, oblivious to the raging self-loathing of his best mate. “Just… don’t let him get too comfortable.” His gaze darkened. “I just need someone there where I know that, if Campbell so much as lays a hand on her wrong, he’s leaving in worse shape than he arrived.” When he could draw out neither reaction nor response from Theo, he groaned in exasperation. “Merlin, Nott, you and I both know she’s too damn nice for this.”

The conflicting desires to keep an eye on Campbell around you on the one, and suppressing his possessiveness on the other hand were grappling with each other, as Theo stared down to the large black mass that was the dark forest. Adding to that that, he didn’t know how much his composure might waver when subjected to the sight of you laughing and dancing with another guy. And one so utterly undeserving of your attention and kindness, at that.

But Mattheo did have a point; though, as so often, he had a crude way of expressing it. You were too kind for your own good, too vulnerable to being taken advantage of. Yet, you were smart and good at seizing up situations, and if Campbell attempted to manipulate you - provided he even had one brain cell for something like subtlety - you’d see right through him.

“Come on, mate, she’s my little sister,” said Mattheo seriously and Theo turned to him with a raised brow.

“She’s two minutes older than you.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, seemingly unconcerned with such feeble matters as time or birth order. “Yeah,” he admitted begrudgingly, “But, like, mentally.” To emphasize his point, he tapped his index finger against his temple to indicate just where the true age lay.

But Theo’s unimpressed brow only rose higher as he scoffed. “Non fare il rompicazzo. She’s also way more mature than you,” he added, unwilling to get into whatever line of argumentations Mattheo had strung together to justify his feelings.

“Not with boys!” exclaimed Mattheo heatedly and pushed against the railing, making Theo shake his head in annoyance. These antics were absolutely childish, he’d trust your judgement over your brothers any day, irrespective of the fact that he was his closest friend.

“And how many boys did you sleep with?” he drawled, blowing out another gust if smoke that swirled and danced in the air above. For a split second, it balled up and formed a shape suspiciously resembling your face before Theo got his instinctive magic back under control.

Mattheo hadn’t looked up, too busy with snapping at him: “I am one! I know how they think!” His glare was now directed at Theo, who paid it no mind, rolling his words around in his head. Mattheo had a point. It wasn’t like he himself didn’t know how desirable you were, how seductive, by doing nothing more than existing, though he may have been prejudiced by his feelings for you.

But it wasn’t merely the way he knew he would look at you, at your smile that he didn’t deserve, Theo knew that there were certain boys at this school who wouldn’t mind having their way with you, just to brag to their friends about having had the Dark Lord’s daughter, the unapproachable, rigorously protected Slytherin princess as some had named you- much to your displeasure. Both Mattheo and him had retraced rumors of this talk where they could and made any boy who saw you as nothing more than a challenge, a piece of meat, regret his very existence. Theo didn’t know if Campbell was one of them, but he was definitely thick enough to qualify.

And what if he did force you to do something you didn’t want to? His jaw clenched impossibly tight, close to snapping as he banned the unwelcome images from his head and balled his fists around the smoke, making embers fly and get picked up by a sudden breeze. “Get out of my head, Riddle,” he threatened and felt the uncomfortable ick subside, but the very same determination shone in Mattheo’s eyes when he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Go to the damn party and keep an eye on her,” he countered. “Please.” The last word, he barely managed to grit out and Theo’s eyes snapped up at him in surprise. Never had he known his best mate to ask for something, Mattheo was one to take, take, take. But the desperation of his situation seemed to drive him to new extremes.

This fact, if nothing else, made him rethink his previous stance. You didn’t have to know, after all. And wasn’t it really also the fact that he had no ambitions to spend the evening watching you laugh and dance with another man, longing to be the one to hold your hand and make you smile, yearning to be the one you dressed up all pretty for?

“Alright,” he finally sighed and Mattheo, moods changing so quickly it would’ve given any other whiplash, hit the air with his fist and patted Theo’s shoulder roughly.

“Knew I could count on you.”

It wasn’t as if you lit up in his presence- no, that would be ridiculous. It was just that his mattress was much more comfortable than yours, his rome tidier despite the constant stacks of books, his presence a steady rock of the kind that made the world outside seem a little less violent.

Or maybe, if you were being honest with yourself, it was the way his breathing filled the quiet, unhurried and even, grounding you without even trying. The way he always stretched out opposite you on his four-poster, all long legs and quiet confidence, never filling the comfortable silence with pointless chatter. Or maybe it was simply the way he made you feel- something warm, something steady, yet fluttering curiously from time to time, like the wings on a butterfly. Something you didn’t dare think about too closely.

Theo leaned back against the headboard, long legs stretched out, one ankle crossed over the other as he absentmindedly tapped his quill against the open pages of his book. He wasn’t reading- not really. His eyes flicked over the words without taking them in, his focus instead drifting to the steady scratch of your quill beside him, the way you chewed on it in thought, completely absorbed in the history of magic essay you were writing.

The windows he’d enchanted for you when you’d mentioned how the lack of natural light in Slytherin house weighed on your state of mind sometimes allowed the rays of an afternoon sun to spill across the bed in hazy streaks, catching on the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow as he exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly. It was comfortable, familiar- the two of you working in the quiet, legs brushing every now and then as books and parchment lay scattered around on the bed.

You finished your essay with a winning final sentence you knew Professor Binns would not be able to appreciate and looked up from the parchment for the first time in an hour, only to find Theo’s eyes flicking down to his page once more, like a kid caught ogling candy bars it wasn’t allowed to touch. His book lay open on his lap, but you could tell he wasn’t reading- his eyes skimmed the words too quickly, his fingers drummed too idly against the pages.

Rolling onto your backside, you let your legs dangle off the bed and enjoyed the relief of tension in your lower back. Your eyes rested upon him, as if daring him to steal another glance at you and betray himself and his faux reading. But he seemed to sense the silent challenge and didn’t look up from the pages once, though you thought you saw the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. He turned a page.

“When are you going to stop pretending you are reading that?” you asked with an amused smile and his lips twitched. But his eyes didn’t leave the pages, still stubbornly pretending to take in the words.

You knew better, you knew his face, better than you knew most faces, because he’d let you look at it for minutes at a time without interruption. Let you map out every crease, every mark upon his skin, all the perfections and imperfections. You had learned his features and the slight changes in his expression better than you’d ever learned to master your own. It was kind of a must, if one wasn’t your brother and wished to interact on eye level with Theodore Nott.

“I am,” he said softly, running his fingers down the next page. For some reason, the sight had you suppress a light shudder, even though the room was quite warm. Warmer than most of the Slytherin dorms. You had wondered before if the enchanted sunlight could provide actual warmth, or if it was a delusion, a trick of mind.

“Alright,” you said, welcoming the challenge and shifting onto your side to prop your head up on your palm. “What’s it about?”

His eyes snapped up at you and sucked all the breath out of your lungs. The false sunlight fell upon his face and made his cerulean eyes shine with disarming intensity. Or maybe you had only imagined that, because he blinked and, though still stunning, his eyes melted into a soft caress down your face to your ink-splattered hands.

When you raised your brows at him, having never quite mastered the art of raising one brow, unlike him, he glanced back at the page for half a second. “Words. Sentences. A truly thrilling analysis of … something.”

You laughed and managed to elicit the smallest of smiles from him. A huge feat, as anyone who knew him would tell you. “You’re the worst study partner,” you said, an accusatory finger pointed at him.

Theo only raised his brow in return, giving you a look of superiority. “You say that, but you’re still here.” His gaze wandered over the open books you’d used for research. “You steal my books more than you read your own, dolcezza.”

“What can I say?” you sighed, feigning regret. “Your books are just better.”

Now, a smirk tugged at his lips as he stretched a little. “Or you just like an excuse to be in my bed.”

Laughing wholeheartedly, you grabbed the book you’d been using most adamantly by the spine and threw it at Theo, who caught it with unwavering certainty. As if he were seeing it for the first time, he turned it around in his hands, maybe trying to remember when he’d bought it.

If there was something he loved to spend money on, it was books. And he did have the means to, his family’s inestimable wealth at his expense whenever he stepped into a bookstore or got you ridiculously expensive christmas gifts to tease you for your indignation at the price. Which was probably why he left it on.

“Your taste in literature is excellent, carina. Your taste in men? Debatable.” If only he knew. An airy chuckle made its way past your lips as you looked down on your ink-covered hands. If there was any man you’d ever desired, it was him. Not just in the physical sense, but in the way his many hookups could not- like this, friendly, bantery, in the midst of heaps of books and parchment as the sun illuminated his beautiful features.

If your brother knew you were in a boy’s dorm, in a boy’s bed, even if it was his best mate, he’d lose his mind- even more so than he already had.

“So, Mattheo told you?” you asked in a falsely casual tone, but watched him carefully out of the corner of your eye. Your friendship with Theo had always been special. In your earlier years at this school, when Mattheo had been insanely clingy, he was the only other boy he allowed you to spend time with.

But Theo was no brother surrogate to you, as Mattheo assumed, wrongly. Though your feelings for him were intimate, they were far too less innocent to be considered fraternal. When Mattheo wasn’t around, in moments like these, you were quite flirtatious, just teetering the edge between friendship and something more. Only in the privacy of his dorm did Theo let nicknames besides topolina slip.

You’d always been more on a wavelength with Theo than with your brother, or any of your friends for that matter. He matched your wit and humor, shared many of your interests and was just as academically ambitious. Laying on his bed, exchanging playful banter and teasing nicknames, there always was a spark, paired with the silent understanding it could never be ignited.

Sometimes, you caught his eyes lingering on you. Even the touch of his hands was deliberate, as he seemed to take advantage of each innocent excuse to get his hands on you. Then, there was his intricate way of words, managing to make you blush and doubt your very existence at the same time. All in all, Theo was both your best friend and most forbidden desire- because he was your brother’s best friend as well. Your brother, who had been throwing a hissy-fit any time the topic of you dating came up.

But Theo didn’t answer, only turning a page in the book he wasn't reading. Not one twitch or movement could betray his agitation but the hard line of his jaw, clenched almost indiscernibly. His silence was a quiet accusation he didn't need to utter for it to linger in the air between you.

You didn't like it when something stood between you in these moments of his sole company, when Mattheo didn't have his hawk eyes on your every move. Moments you relished, and didn't want to be tainted by petty drama between you and your brother, who’d already ruined enough, especially when it was about something as irrelevant as your date for Slughorn's party. Or maybe it wasn't so irrelevant. Merlin, how you wished that it mattered to him.

“I can hear the gears turning in your head, Theo,” you said quietly when he even gave up pretending to be reading and instead stared gloomily at the pages as if they'd personally wronged him. You knew he didn't like many Gryffindors, something he had in common with Mattheo while you preferred not to take part in house rivalries. And Terry Campbell embodied all the worst traits of Gryffindor- no wonder he didn't like him.

“Care to share?” you asked and looked up at him from the sheets with the doe eyes that always worked on Mattheo.

Meeting your eyes, finally, Theo closed the book with a quiet thud and pierced you with his infamous stare- though it was not as sinister as usual. “I don’t have to say anything, you already know what I think,” he said matter-of-factly, leaning back against the headboard once more like he was done with the conversation. But his fingers kept tapping restlessly against the now closed book on his lap.

“You could at least pretend to approve,” you proposed, dragging yourself into a sitting position and propping your head up on your fist with folded legs.

Theo clicked his tongue impatiently and threw you another ill-tempered look. “I could also throw myself off the astronomy tower, but I don’t see the point in either.” There was a certain finality in his tone that you would have respected any day- any day but this one.

“I know you don’t like Terry,” you said, unwilling to give up in your attempts to establish proper eye contact. “Granted, he’s a little intellectually challenged.” At these words, his eyes snapped up at you and he raised a brow, a mixture of amusement and indignation at your rather courteous assessment. But you didn’t even let him speak, you knew his silvery sweet words would wrap themselves around you and render you inarticulate. So you continued quickly, in a quiet but firm voice. “This isn’t about who I want to go out with, it’s about proving I get to choose.”

His pensive eyes studied you as you awaited his reaction, fully aware that he must have concluded this already- or at least included it in his speculations. You were hoping he had, that he had not trusted you to fall for a douche like Terry Campbell. He tilted his head slightly, considering you, his prominent brows furrowed. “And if you’re choosing wrong?” he finally asked, holding your gaze with the certainty of a man who always had the last word.

But you held his gaze, drank in the thrill of losing yourself in his cerulean eyes, and shrugged. “Then at least it’s my mistake to make.”

Theo paused, then exhaled, shaking his head at you. When he tapped his fingers on the rim of his book, your eyes clung to them. A trap, and one you would step in gladly. His long fingers, the rough pads on his tips where he squished his cigarettes with his own hands, the prominent veins. Their movements were always so calculated, so elegant. Outside of Nott manor, he rarely played the piano, but when he did, it truly was a sight to behold. To see his spidery fingers run up and down the keys, eliciting such sweet serenades from the instruments you thought he’d have to have hexed it.

His voice pulled you out of your wandering thoughts as his mouth twitched with a sarcastic smile. “You sound like him, you know that?”

A light laugh stumbled from your lips as you pretended to look indignant- but, unlike him, you’d never been a good actor. “That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.” But your laugh subsided quickly, the desire for him to understand, not only your motive but the importance of it, burning inside you. If someone had to understand, it was him. If you answered to anyone, it was him.

It was impossible to look at him. Not when he had leaned forward slightly at the sound of your little laugh, something shifting in his eyes, something unspoken and impossible to speak, something keeping you locked in place. So you averted your eyes, kept them firmly on the ground and pretended to be interested in a fly whirring in the false rays of sun. “But you understand, don’t you? It’s not about the date, or the party, or Terry. It’s about the fact that Mattheo never trusts me to handle myself. So I will have to prove him that I can be trusted with- with boys, and parties, and life.”

Though you did not look up at him, you could feel his gaze boring into your skull, studying your every expression. He had the natural talent of a careful observer, whereas you had had to learn it, given your circumstances. There was no point in concealing your frustration or disappointment in Mattheo, when Theo could decipher every twitch of your features, pry every drawn curtain apart, look into your very soul. And what would you be hiding something from him for, anyways? Except for your utter devotion to him, of course. Your most strongly concealed and obvious secret.

“Maybe he just doesn’t trust the world to hurt you,” his voice sounded, smooth and pensive, making it impossible not to agree with every word he said. And he was right, of course. But he wasn’t you. And he’d be a hypocrite if he agreed with you. His voice carried more than observation- self-revelation. It wasn’t just him who could decipher codes.

Drawing back the curtains yourself, you turned to him and opened yourself up to his endless, infallible analysis. “Then he should have more faith in me than fear of them.”

The words lingered as you considered each other, and his brow twitched lightly. Instinctively, you were certain you were thinking of exactly the same situation: two weeks ago, at breakfast, when a sixth year Slytherin you didn’t even know had made an unflattering comment about you, loud enough for people to hear but not loud enough that he thought he’d get in trouble for it. Well, the joke was on him, because Theo next to you had picked up on it and had tensed up so quickly you looked at him in alarm, trying to signal him that you didn't care about this kind of talk.

But of course, he knew you better than that, knew it bothered you, and when you’d seen the look in his eyes you had forever regretted crying in his arms about the unforgiving image people had of you, how you would never get rid of your father’s shadow looming over you, how no one would give you a chance. Mattheo and you both had your ways of dealing with your familiar associations. He drank, drugged and fucked himself into oblivion, you spent nights slaving away in the library until Theo dragged you to bed and allowed you to fall asleep with his warm hand on your back.

Before you could have even attempted to talk him out of it, Theo had stood up from the table and met the boy in a few strides. He hadn't even needed to pull out his wand, his voice low and dangerous as he had given the guy one chance to take it back. He had. Fast.

Your soft but slightly bitter laugh broke the silence. “You know what’s funny? If I actually needed him, if I actually needed someone to fight for me- he’d be the first one there. But when I don’t, when I just want to live my life- he’s still the first one there. Stopping me.” With a disheartened huff, you shifted on the bed, but didn’t avert your eyes. And neither did he.

Theo studied you for a long moment, during which nothing but the faintest echo of voices from the common room was to be heard. But silence had never been uncomfortable between you and Theo. Where Mattheo was a roaring whirlwind, Theo was the eye of the storm, the illusion of stillness, of being cut off from the rest of the world, uncaring whether it would be swept away in a single blow as long as you had him.

After observing you for a long moment, Theo nodded slightly. “I know. But…,” he leaned forward, his voice low but with a certain edge, the only indication of a growing intensity simmering behind his ever-calm composure. “Terry Campbell is such a dimwit he doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, principessa. You could have asked anyone. anyone. And you picked the first desperate idiot who came your way?”

The small laugh you let out was more comparable to a bitter scoff. “Would anyone else have said yes?”

It was rare to spot genuine confusion on Theo’s face, but now, his brows were furrowed in puzzlement. A little, self-depricating smile tugged at your lips; of course he wouldn’t understand. Or was it just pretense to make you feel better?

“Terry has ambitions of playing Quidditch for England one day and has been trying to get into Slughorn’s good graces for ages because he has contacts in the league.” You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I knew he’d say yes.”

He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, even for you. Or perhaps, you didn’t want to look too closely. Perhaps, you were afraid of what you might discover, simmering behind those watercolor eyes. “Sei seria? You think that’s the only reason he said yes?”

With a defeated little shrug, you attempted a weak smile and failed miserably, a sudden weight seemed to weigh the corners of your mouth down. Lifting them was like lifting a great weight. “What other reason would there be?”

Finally, the stony expression on his face dissolved into a deep frown, even darker than his usual, gloomy expression. With a humourless scoff, he shook his head. “Dio, you actually believe that.” It wasn’t a question but a realization, and you gave no answer or reaction.

You were tired of him pretending, or simply not understanding your predicament. Of course he wouldn’t; in spite of his parentage, he still had countless girls throwing themselves at him. But you were used to Theo understanding you fully and thoroughly, nodding in recognition when you told him about your struggles, your likes, your opinions, and giving him the same grace. Perhaps you were spoiled. Perhaps, it wasn’t as simple as you thought. Perhaps, it was just you.

“I knew he was the only one desperate enough to be my date,” you said in a tone you hoped would come off as matter-of-fact and indifferent. “Really, I should be grateful I found anyone.”

“Odio quando parli così,” muttered Theo under his breath and you tried to piece the sentence together with your less than stellar knowledge of the Italian language. But before you could fully grasp the meaning of the sentence, Theo’s sharp voice cut through the air, forcing your attention back on him and the bitter intensity brimming behind his frown. “So, this is your clever little plan to get Mattheo off your back?”

There was no longer the slightest hint of humour in his tone, he sounded almost angry, and you recoiled slightly. “It’s not perfect, I admit.”

“You don’t pick the first cretino who sees an angle and call it a choice,” Theo cut you off. You realized his accent was getting more noticeable as he spoke, and the English language failed to express the true weight of his feelings as he slipped in more Italian words or phrases. It was a clear indicator that cool and calculated Theodore Nott was growing more heated, and you found it undeniably and inappropriately attractive. But he still failed to see your perspective in this.

“What else would I have done?” you asked in return, voice growing a little sharper as well. “Waited for someone who wasn’t coming?”

It wasn’t meant to come off as an accusation, but nevertheless, Theo tore his eyes away and gritted his teeth, jaw tight and exhaling through his nose. “Stronzata,” he cursed and glared at the book in his lap, as if it were somehow responsible for this whole mess. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his inability to grasp a situation when he was usually the most observant person in the room.

Surprised, he looked at you and you shook your head, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “No boy at this school would come into one foot proximity to me.” You bit down on your lip and avoided his intense, angry eyes. “I like to tell myself it’s just because of my … familiar affiliations, but maybe that simplifies things too much. I mean, look at you. Look at Mattheo! Maybe I’m just not, well, desirable.” You were a little ashamed of the words, and even more appalled at the way your voice trembled slightly before you got it back under control.

But when you looked up once more, you realized the error you’d made, letting him hear your somewhat self-deprecating, but in your eyes plausible interpretation. Before he could talk, you interrupted him as he drew his breath, undoubtedly to tell you you were wrong- just what you wanted to hear, of course. “It’s not that deep, Theo,” you said calmingly, unwilling to make a whole thing out of it. This stupid date had already impacted your day enough. “He was available, and I-”

But Theo cut you off, voice low and rough and carrying an edge he didn’t usually direct towards you. “El basta. Enough. You’re actually pissing me off now.”

Despite yourself, you raised your brows in weak amusement. “You’re always pissed off.”

Eyes narrowed, he pointed at you with the unread book. “Not at you. Not like this.”

After his words, silence settled thick between you, exceptionally uncomfortable in comparison to your usual quiet harmony. Maybe because it felt heavy, charged, pressing itself into the space between you on the bed like an unwelcome visitor. It seemed to stretch unbearably long, pressing against your skin like a weight.

Theo sat still, but everything about him was taut- his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched, one hand curled to a fist atop the duvet, the other grabbing the back of his book as if he meant to crush it into dust. His gaze flickered to you once, dark and unreadable, before snapping back down, as if looking at you only stoked the embers of whatever was burning behind his ribs. The air between you felt charged, humming with remnants of his anger, with the frustration he hadn't fully exhaled. His breath came slow and measured, as if he was forcing himself to stay composed.

You hated it. Theo was your best friend, maybe even the love of your life, and fighting with him was exhausting. With a sigh, you turned your whole body to him and gave him a hesitant, pleading look. “I don’t want to fight. Not when this is one of the few moments when my brother doesn’t interrupt our t- my study sessions.”

You cut yourself off, having no interest in loading the buzzing air with more tension. Tension that would be inevitable, if you were true about how important this was for you. How important he was to you. “Let’s not waste it, okay?” you asked, pleadingly, and thought you saw the cold diamond of his eyes soften a little. “I’ll stop mentioning it.”

For a few seconds, he observed you pensively, but you could see him melt behind his unmoved facade. His icy stare warmed slightly and the sharp turn around his mouth eased, jaw and fists unclenching. Something like regret flashed over his face, too fast to pin down. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he wordlessly patted the spot next to him and you fell silent. Following the silent order, you scurried over and he made room for you between him and the wall, propping up his pillow against the headboard for you to lean back comfortably.

You settled down next to him, in the little space there was. His legs were brushing yours, but he didn’t seem to mind, and you surely didn’t. Slowly, giving him the chance to move away or make some other dismissive gesture, you lowered your head and, when he didn’t move, rested it upon his shoulder. It fit into the curve of his body like a puzzle piece and you relished in the warmth, real warmth, body warmth, against your side.

When he raised a hand to card his fingers through your hair in a gesture of such tenderness you’d never seen him bless someone else with something even close to it, you breathed a sigh of relief and nestled deeper into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. The rough pads of his fingers drew deliberate patterns on your scalp as he rested his chin on top of your head and his breathing finally calmed into a natural rising and falling of his chest. When he spoke, his voice was much quieter than before, measured but intense. “You don’t understand, do you? You could’ve had anyone.”

He spoke like he believed every word, sounded so convinced you almost believed him. Almost. Until the inevitable prying of reality nagged you again. “Then why didn’t I?”

Theo’s voice dropped even lower, rumbling in his chest and vibrating against the ear that rested against his body. “Maybe because no one is stupid enough to think they deserve you.” His voice still carried a certain edge, but this time, it wasn’t directed at you. More like the contrary. His hand wandered from your hair to your neck, rubbing slow circles on your tense muscles and eliciting a slight groan from you as you realized how tight they were clenched. Shaking his head, Theo seemed to be muttering to himself. “Che spreco.” (what a waste)

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you translated the short sentence in your head and were proud to reach a certain level of understanding. “What is?” you asked, hoping the question not only fitted your translation but also his actual statement. His fingers stilled against your neck, fingertips barely brushing against the skin so that you had to suppress a shudder. You, of course, couldn’t see the smug expression on his face as he noticed the way your skin broke out into goosebumps. The air was heavy with another form of tension now.

“That you think so little of yourself,” he explained, “That you let people like him think they're doing you a favor.” His voice was dripping with disdain and you interlocked your pinkie fingers, unwilling to fight him over the issue.

The silence that settled between you now was different- just as heavy, just as charged, but warmer, thicker, curling at the edges with something unspoken, but not uncomfortable. The tension no longer sat sharp between you, there was no room for it anyway. It lingered instead in the space where your bodies touched, in the light brush of your thigh against his, in the synchronising rise and fall of your chests. Theo had relaxed back against the headboard, but his fingers toyed absentmindedly with the collar of your shirt -something he'd never do in the presence of your brother.

Another thing reserved for these private moments was his touch. His pinkie squeezed yours before he removed his hand to place it on the back of your thigh, lifting it slightly to guide it to rest on top of his. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers brushed along the fabric of your thights and you hid your blush in the crook of his neck. If your brother saw you like this with any boy, he’d be flung into a fit of rage. But alas, he wasn't here, you reminded yourself, as you melted into his touch.

But it wasn't like he would be wrong to assume. The way Theo touched you, the tenderness of his caresses, was more befitting of a boyfriend rather than a friend. But it had been that way for a while. And neither of you dared say something, enjoying the touch of a lover without the fear of retaliation. You could feel his gaze flicker to you, gauging your reaction, lingering just a second too long on your slightly flushed face before pulling away, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look.

The air in the room felt warmer, your skin prickling with awareness at every shift of movement, every slight brush of fabric against fabric. Neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, thick and taut, but neither of you dared to break it, as if speaking aloud would make something tip over the edge, something neither of you could take back.

Instead of speaking, his fingers released your neck and wandered to your chin, lifting it from his neck. He turned to you, and your heart began to race when you found your lips mere breaths away from his, his eyes glinting with an unknown intensity that had you wondering whether he might actually be willing… be ready to…

When the tension mounted and became unbearable, you jolted upright and averted your face to hide your blush. Your chest was so tight you felt like you couldn’t breathe, you only knew you had to get some space between you and him, so you scurried away, brushed down your skirt and stood up from the bed.

Only then did it occur to you to think of an excuse, and with shaky legs, you hurried over to his table where you had set your bag down, pulled out the earrings you planned to wear tonight. Opening his wardrobe, you looked at your reflection as you put them on, heart slowly slowing to an appropriate tempo.

But the angle was limited, so you only saw him when he entered the mirror’s frame, nearing a few steps behind you, an unreadable expression on his face. Raising an eyebrow, you managed to smile at him through the reflection. “What is it?” As if you hadn’t just almost thrown all caution to the wind, all your silent, combined efforts to preserve your friendship.

Theo tilted his head, his gaze flickering over your reflection. “Nothing,” he answered in a low voice, approaching slowly. “Just thinking.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” you attempted to joke, fiddling clumsily with your earrings. Finally, he reached you and you flinched when you felt his hands, large and strong, on your waist. Only the thin material of your blouse separated them from your skin. Lowering his head, his lips hovered right next to your ear and you held your breath as he chuckled into your ear. “Just wondering if he’ll even know what to do with you.”

For a few seconds, you stood still. But then, you brushed his hands off and walked over to his desk to grab your back, oblivious to the way his eyes darkened when you escaped from his grasp. “I’ve got to go, get ready,” you explained as you hurried towards the door eager to escape the thick tension of the room. Playing with it had been fun, but this felt way too real.

Theo watched your fleeing figure. As the door slammed shut behind you, the silence that remained felt louder than anything you could have said. His jaw ticked, fingers flexing at his sides before curling into fists, the sharp edge of his nails pressing into his palms.

You were getting ready for someone else-someone who didn’t deserve your time, your effort, your attention-but still, you went. The thought burned, settling bitter on his tongue, and he exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair as if that alone could shake off the feeling clawing at his ribs. The bed was still warm where you had been, the air still carried the faint trace of your perfume, and yet you were gone- off to smile for someone who would never look at you the way he did.

Theo wasn’t what some would call a “party person”. For the past months, he’d done his best to avoid Slughorn’s invitations. Though the silver-tongued heir of the prominent house of Nott had been taught to socialize properly and knew his way around people, the majority of them bored him to death, as did the inevitable smalltalk revealing their shallow nature.

The Slytherin house parties he could endure, because there was at least the added though fleeting thrill of a hookup- and also, he had to handle Mattheo at his worst, when he’d made his way through a few too many shots of firewhiskey and drugs. Additionally, the Slytherin house parties tended to grow wild and frenzied fairly quickly, allowing him to slip into a hazy sequence of blurred memories and forget about himself.

An event such as this, however, which some might assume more to his liking as it presented itself as far more civil, could not have thrilled him any less. People circling each other like vultures under the red lanterns, detecting with observant eyes who to suck up to and who to eliminate as competition, fighting for the attention of the well-connected at the top of the food chain, trying to climb a latter they weren’t even able to grab the rails of.

Slughorn was smiling brightly, boasting and prowling around, fully in his element as he weaved people like strings, enjoying himself in the role of benefactor, merciful king, god. Beneath him, the huddle of chosen ones, jabbing their elbows into each other in the hopes to be selected as the one to rise the ranks of privilege. Shrill, tense laughter rang through the air, the scenery painted in red hues from the lanterns, the eyes too attentive for a party like this. And in the midst of it all, you.

You, in your gorgeous green dress, being twirled around on the dance floor by Terry Campbell. Though that was quite the generous description, as you were doing most of the heavy lifting. As he had suspected, Theo thought to himself, Campbell couldn’t handle you, he could never meet your standards. His movements were clumsy and sluggish, he lacked manners and he didn’t hesitate to leave you alone or crowd you out when the opportunity to suck up to one of the more illustrious people presented itself.

He didn’t deserve you, he didn’t deserve looking at you all dressed and dolled up. The sight of it twisted something sharp and ugly inside him. That idiot had his hands on your waist, his fingers splayed too casually against the fabric, his grin too smug, too self-assured-like he had any right to you. Theo had to refrain himself from reaching for his wand as Campbell followed your lead (he was a miserable dancer) and stared down at your cleavage, not even attempting to conceal his blatant ogling. As if you were a fucking pezzo di carne.

Taking a long sip of the champagne in his hands, he felt it trickle cooly down his throat, but it could not cool his temper flaring up whenever Campbell’s eyes wandered just a little too far down. The only thing keeping him from marching over and wrenching you out of his grabby hands was your eyes, boring into his earlier that day when you’d complained about Mattheo’s overbearing relationship. He didn’t want you to feel caged in, as much as he wished to get you by the waist and out of this snakepit. Where people whispered behind your back and your face fell any time you saw a finger pointed at you.

You were too soft to be what you were, and he fucking adored it. But it also meant that he made a mental note of anyone who made the smile vanish from your face for later … consideration.

When your dimwit of a date spotted Sean Clarke, the president of the English Quidditch league, amidst a crowd of noisy witches, he tore himself away from you in an instant to push past dancing couples towards him, without a glance or word back to you. Just leaving you standing there on the dance floor, looking so utterly breathtaking in that frilly dress of yours.

Theo’s hands tightened around his glass of champagne as he glided through people to keep an eye on you as you approached the buffet. As you waited for a group of renowned daily prophet reporters to pass by, your eyes wandered over the crowd and found him, leaning against one of the stone walls. Even from a distance, he saw them widen in surprise- no wonder, since he usually was to be found anywhere but at a Slughorn party on designated evenings.

But soon after, a smile spread across your face. Not the false ones you gave Campbell to appease him and make him feel like a man. It was small, hesitant, honest and it was private. Even in his foul mood, Theo could do nothing but smile back and the corners of your mouth twitched as you turned towards the buffet, only to tighten when Campbell returned. Theo saw it with a certain level of satisfaction.

As Terry, visibly ill-tempered, pushed through the crowd towards you again, you had to suppress an exasperated sigh. He’d been nothing but a nuisance and a brat all night, and you would rather have him preoccupied with Sean Clarke than you. But alas, the latter seemed to have blown him off, judging by the bitter look on Campbell’s face.

Before you could ask if he wanted to get something to eat - you were starving - he grabbed you roughly by the arm, grunting something that sounded like “dancefloor” and dragged you back to the middle of the room. Instinctively, your gaze found Theo who was slowly pushing himself off the wall, eyes locked on Terry’s hand gripping your arm. But when you threw him a warning look, he halted his movement, only following you with vigilant eyes.

Terry placed his hand on your waist- if one was to call your hip your waist. As he took up his clumsy movements again, you attempted to ignore the way it moved uncomfortably far down. You had stoked his wandering hands up to a lack of experience in the beginning, but you were growing more uncomfortable by the second. Just to check, you threw another glance around you for Theo, and he returned it with a raised brow. Recognizing the silent question, you shook your head lightly.

Terry seemed to have realized your spirits weren’t in it anymore, or maybe he’d just spotted another Quidditch player, because he stopped dancing after just a short moment to pull you after him again. Without a word to you, he pushed a group of fifth years aside until you’d reached a secluded corner behind some slightly see-through red curtains, cutting you off from the rest of the party.

Initially, you had wanted to look for Theo again, just to check, but then, Campbell speaking a coherent sentence took you so off guard that you forgot anything else over it. “You know, I could have asked any girl here, but I picked you.”

Completely taken aback, both by his sudden ability to articulate himself through more than three word sentences and the contents of said sentence, you blinked up at him, momentarily rendered speechless. He looked down at you appraisingly and took a step towards you, which was quite the feat in this cramped spot. Instinctively, you inched back, but smiled nervously as you didn’t want to be rude- you just wanted to get out of here and hook him up with his beloved Sean Clarke so you didn’t have to deal with him anymore.

“Don’t be so uptight, Riddle,” he drawled, having picked up on your attempts to bring some space between you and him. A lazy, sickening grin pulled at his lips and a shiver ran down your spine when his eyes wandered from your face down your body. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I bet no one’s even looking.”

“Can we get back to dancing?” you tried, fingers nervously clasping around each other as you glanced up at him. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you tried to suppress the panic that surged through you at the look in his eyes. “I don’t really feel like-”

His demeaning chuckle cut you off and to your horror, he grabbed the arm you had been reaching out to draw the curtains aside, as well as your waist. He pushed you against a small table, cornering you. You could smell the faint trace of alcohol on him, but he’d not had enough to be losing all sense. Which meant… You didn’t want it to be true, Merlin, you didn’t want Mattheo to be right. But it looked like you’d just walked into a trap, and it snapped shut when Terry leaned down and grinned unpleasantly. “Come on, don’t be like that, I’ve been nothing but nice to you all night.”

“Stop it,” you said in a low voice, doing your best to imitate Theo’s threatening tone that had any resistance crumble into a pathetic pile at his feet. But it didn’t work with Gryffindor’s six foot tall beater, of course.

Terry only laughed mockingly and his hands squeezed around your waist and arm. His eyes glinted as you attempted to free yourself. “Relax, it’s just a little fun- What, your brother gonna come drag you away?” He lowered his head and you tried pushing at his chest, but he didn’t move one bit and his fingers dug painfully into your flesh. “You don’t have to play so hard to get, you know?” he drawled, “I already know you like the attention. Why else would you have worn a dress like tha-”

Somehow, suddenly, out of nowhere, the curtains were ripped apart and Theo was there before you, before you even had time to process it- before Campbell could push his luck any further. His hand shot out, fingers locking around the bastard’s wrist in a vice grip, yanking it away from your waist with enough force to make him stumble back a step. His breathing was slow, measured, but everything else about him was tightly wound, coiled with barely restrained fury- his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might crack. His fingers flexed at his side like he was deciding whether to throw a punch or just break Campbell's wrist outright.

The usual composed calm in his expression was gone- his dark eyes burned with something lethal, something cold and merciless that had shivers run down your spine, even though it wasn’t directed at you but at Campbell, who recoiled visibly, wincing when Theo’s hand tightened around his wrist and cut off all blood flow. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, quiet, but razor-edged with warning. “You really don’t want to do that.”

“H-hey man,” laughed Campbell, voice shaking slightly with fear, and it was music to your ears. To have him at someone’s mercy, in someone’s unrelenting grip. For a moment, you wished you had Theo’s authority, menacing aura and reputation. Until you got half your mind back and inched away from Campbell, who had let go of your arm in an instant.

“It was just a bit of fun,” Campbell attempted to laugh it off, but Theo didn’t move- didn’t blink, didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, his fingers tightened around Campbell’s wrist, the tension in his arm rippling beneath his shirt. There was not the slightest trace of amusement on his stony face, no hint of his usual cool detachment- just a quiet, simmering rage, deadly in its restraint.

His head tilted slightly, voice dropping even lower, silk-smooth but edged with steel. “Didn’t seem like she was having fun to me.” His thumb pressed just slightly into the guy’s pulse point, a silent threat, a warning that needed no elaboration. The air around them felt sharp, electric, like the moment before a storm broke, and though Theo hadn’t thrown a single punch, it was clear he was seconds away from violence.

His gaze flickered over to you. But instead of softening, like it usually did, it only hardened as he snapped his eyes back at Campbell, who was unable to hide the panic etched into his expression. “Do yourself a favor,” Theo said darkly, threateningly, “Get lost. Now.” Still holding his wrist, he lowered his head and Campbell tried to avoid his piercing eyes. With eyes full of disgust and revulsion, Theo looked down on him. “I’ll find you tomorrow,” he growled with barely contained fury, released Campbell’s hand and tilted his head just the slightest bit.

In the split of a second, Campbell was gone, only the curtains still moving with the impact of his sudden departure. Theo turned to you, dread churning in his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to go after Campbell and make him bleed, make him pay, for daring to lay his filthy hands on you, for daring to feast his greedy eyes on you and trying to hurt you. The only thing keeping him in place was, at the same time, the only thing more important than his wrath- you.

Your eyes were locked on the swaying curtain where Campbell had just left, your shoulders slumped and to his horror, he noticed you were shaking slightly. The sight of your trembling fingers didn't do anything to calm the inferno barely contained within him, and he was tempted to take you with him and have you watch him destroy Campbell, so you would see what a miserable sack of human garbage he was, how he was nothing, how he would cower at your feet, beg for your mercy, and he’d punish him for it.

“Carina?”

Theo’s voice sounded through to you, over the ringing in your ears. Blinking rapidly, you bit down on your traitorously wobbling lip and turned to him without raising your gaze from the ground. “Merlin,” you whispered and heard your voice quiver uncontrollably. “I was so stupid.” Your eyes burned, both with shock and humiliation, and before you could properly avert your face, a tear slipped past the fragile dam.

His warm hands on your bare arms, so much more gentle and careful than Terry’s, almost made you shudder as you fought the urge to sink into him and cry away your worries on his shoulder, in spite of time and place, in spite of your determination to keep some level of composure. Theo’s thumbs brushed gently over your skin, so utterly comforting that it only made you well up more. “You weren't,” he said in a firm but calm voice, the rumble of his baritone soothing the trembling of your heart against your ribcage, as if it wanted to escape the confines of your body that suddenly felt so sullied.

An ironic, teary laugh slipped past your lips. “Yes, I am. Here I was, wanting to show Mattheo I can handle myself and now I need saving from you-” Your voice broke off and you covered your mouth with one hands to muffle the little sob building up in your throat.

Wiping at your cheeks stubbornly, you avoided his gaze determinately and preferred to watch the ripple of his sophisticated shirt as he leaned towards you, the smell of smoke, mint and old books tearing down your walls of resistance. Another tear. “You must think I'm an idiot,” you whispered as even more tears ran down your cheeks and the hand over your mouth shook.

“No, I don't,” said Theo, ever more firmly, and all of the sudden, you could feel the rough pads of his fingers under your chin, lifting it. There was no resistance left in you, not when his voice drowned out the unpleasant memory of Campbell and the overwhelming thumping of the music. But the look in his eyes almost made you flinch back. They were made of ice, hard and cold and beautiful, brimming with fury. Still, his grip barely tightened. As always, Theo was in perfect control of his body, of his every movement. Sometimes, that frustrated you, but now, you felt content knowing every touch of his was deliberate and trustworthy.

“I don't think you’re an idiot,” he reiterated, lowering his head to be more on eye level with you. “I think you picked the wrong guy. È semplice. Simple as that.”

It was too much, his voice, his words, the way the Italian rolled so smoothly off his tongue. Sniffing, you hid your head in his chest and his arms wrapped themselves around you, one hand holding your neck, brushing his thumb over your jaw and shielding you against him.

“You could do so much better,” his voice rumbled against your ear as he caressed your face and more tears stained his white shirt. You felt him tense up somewhat, a certain hint of frustration in his voice, though not directed at you, but rather at himself. “You should do so much better.”

Another bitter little laugh left your lips, a pang of daring born out of your shock and fear. “Like you?” Since you still hid your head in his chest, you didn't see the way his jaw clenched at your words.

He could imagine it so well- a world in which you would have worn that dress for him, and only for him. In which he’d have waited for you by your dorm, would have led you through the halls to Slughorn’s party and fended all other people off to take you to dance. How you would have moved, and smiled, and laughed; laughed just for him. How you would have trusted him with yourself. He would have made sure you got to enjoy yourself, would have made the night unforgettable. Would have taken you back to your dorm and shown you just how much of a goddess you were- even without the dress on.

Already regretting your rash words, you pried yourself from his hug, too busy whipping the last remnants of tears from your cheeks to notice the way his eyes had darkened and fingers curled at his sides, as if burning to pull you back against him. “Can we get out of here?” you asked, looking up at him, and he nodded, tugging the curtains aside to lead you out of the secluded corner.

Theo’s hand rested on your lower back as if it belonged there, as he guided you through chattering and dancing bodies, clearing a path for you through the sea of laughter and music. The party’s noises and colors had long become overwhelming to you, so you let him guide you through the crowd and to the door leading out of the room. Taking a longer step, he opened it for you, lead you through and closed it behind you. As soon as the door fell shut with a resounding clang and the coolness and quiet of the nightly castle halls welcomed you, you could breathe steadily again.

Theo shook off his jacket and wrapped it over your shoulders like a proper gentleman, adjusting it to make sure it didn't slip. He was a bit old school, but you liked it. Luckily, the night hid the dust of pink on your cheeks as the warmth engulfed you like a hug and shielded you against the nightly cold. His hand still on your lower back, Theo guided you down the stairs and along the corridor, a comfortable silence settling between you. You had a feeling he was slowing his pace to match yours, as your legs were still a little shaky.

When you walked by the courtyard, you slowed your steps and looked up at him, noticing the way the pale moonlight only accentuated the sharp line of his jaw. “Can we sit outside for a moment?”

Theo did not at all like how flimsy and unprotected against the cold you were dressed, but he nodded. He couldn't let you go unprotected, after all. Right, he was just following your brother’s instructions. Just that. Once more, he adjusted his jacket before allowing you to pull him by the arm out into the courtyard, striding towards one of the benches. Before you could sit, he wiped away the leaves and twigs on your side and then sat down next to you, feeling himself grow calmer as he listened to your steady breathing and watched it come out in puffs from your lips. Your lips. You’d put lipgloss on, and his eyes clung to the way they looked so plump and soft, ready to be ravaged.

“Theo?”

“Mm?” he asked distractedly, still mesmerized by the way your lips looked, moved, parted, huffed out silvery breaths.

“Can you-,” you hesitated for a second and threw him a quick glance. “Can you not tell Mattheo about how horrible this went?” Theo looked down at you steadily, with a serious, unmoved expression on his face as he was waiting for you to continue.

With a defeated sigh, you propped up your head and your hands, elbows on your knees, and stared ahead. “You know how he’ll get if he finds out. He’ll go completely bonkers, and he’s so reckless, I wouldn’t be surprised if he risked more than detention.” Maybe even Azkaban. Because he had sworn to you earlier that evening that he would kill Campbell if he laid so much as a hand on you. But you had no interest in Campbell dying, you just never wanted to see his stupid face again.

Still, Theo remained quiet and you rocked your leg anxiously, your voice a breath against the nightly breeze. “And if he knows… if you tell him… he’ll be right.” Again, you felt the sharp prick of tears behind your eyes, but before they could flow, a warm hand came to rest against your waist and you gave into its urge by leaning against his shoulder. Resting your head on him, you couldn’t see his face properly, but his voice was louder and clearer than yours had been. Still, he seemed to have understood every word.

“He wouldn’t,” said Theo calmingly, rubbing circles on your dress and calming your breathing in return. “I know you can take care of yourself. Also.”

You were surprised by the somewhat humorous tone in his voice as he lightly nudged your head with his, making you raise your head from his shoulder and look up at him. Mere inches separated your noses as his darkend eyes reflected the starry sky above Hogwarts. There was a rare, jocular twinkle in them as his hand came up from your waist to cup your cheek. “You are his older sister after all.”

A dry chuckle left your lips, but your heart was lighter than before and you managed to crack a genuine smile. “You’re right,” you grinned weakly, not even thinking of bringing more distance between you and his magnetizing eyes. “I should rightfully rule over him.”

A gentle smirk tugged at his lips, and he didn’t make a move to separate from you either, his thumb running along your jaw. “With an iron fist, bella.”

But then, his gaze darkened again as his eyes lost all light. You could almost understand why people tended to flinch back from him in fear, though the threatening look in his eyes couldn’t make you frightened for yourself. Still, his thumb brushed gentle strokes up your jaw and his trusted scent clouded your senses. “I will hurt him for what he did to you,” muttered Theo, his voice so quiet you could only hear it because he practically breathed the words against your lips.

Maybe he had expected you to back away, look horrified, or tell him off for doing what Mattheo would have done. But you only nodded, like you had known it all along. “I know,” you echoed his thoughts, looking serious and tugging his jacket tighter around yourself, not breaking eye contact. “But I trust you to handle the situation better. You are … less clouded by emotions.”

The irony almost made him smile, how you thought he would be measured, would be reasonable, rational, when he had never felt more clouded by emotions as when you looked up at him now, your wide eyes still showing the last remnants of your tears. An iron grip was around his heart, refusing to loosen, so he forced himself to avert his eyes, so you wouldn’t see the hate brimming in them- not at you, of course, but at the world who kept cracking down on someone as good as you.

But he didn’t correct you, instead skimming his eyes over the lace of your dress, the way it swayed gently in the breeze. You had looked so pretty in it- still did. A shame, truly. Both you and this dress deserved better. When he adjusted the hem slightly, he caught goosebumps break out under his touch and hated himself for the light tinge of satisfaction it gave him.

“You look stunning in that dress,” he muttered lowly, looking back up at you. It seemed like your eyes hadn’t left him, even after he had averted his, and the way you leaned trustingly into his touch twisted his insides with conflicting emotion.

Your hand found his and squeezed, and now he himself had to suppress a shudder at your soft touch. It really shouldn’t be bothering him, shouldn’t be affecting him this much. He had touched you plenty of times before, as you had, too. Your touch was more familiar to him than that of his parents, or his friends. Your warmth a constant in the wild tides breaking all around him, disrupting the world he had meant to break into order for you.

“Thank you,” you said breathlessly, giving his hand a light squeeze. Returning it, he watched you, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling scrutinized.

“Mi dispiace (i’m sorry),” he said sincerely, finally holding your gaze again. “For your ruined night, carina. You deserve so much better.”

You shrugged, giving him a half-smile. “Well, you know what they say, play stupid games and win stupid prizes. And anyway, it wasn’t your fault. And,” your eyes fell to your interlocked hands, his long fingers engulfing yours like they never wanted to let you go again. “Thank you, Theo. For getting me out of there. Merlin knows what would have happened if you hadn’t.”

His jaw clenched visibly at the thought, and he attempted to concentrate on the feel of your soft skin against his to ground him, as images of what he would do to Campbell flashed in his mind. Your ironic chuckle pulled you out of his spiraling thoughts. “I couldn’t even push him off. The way you just looked at him and he ran off…,” you swallowed thickly. “I wish I wasn't this weak.”

“It’s not a weakness,” he disagreed and you opened your mouth to argue back, but the look in his eyes extinguished every and all protest on your tongue. “It’s not a weakness,” he repeated firmly, locking you in place with his cerulean eyes. His thumb ran over your knuckles, but neither of you dared look away from the other. “It’s a show of strength,” he said, his Italian accent a little more prominent than before. “The world didn’t manage to take away your kindness.”

He leaned in further when he saw the frown forming on your face. “You are stronger than me. And for all those who think otherwise,” his voice got more grave as he spoke, more intense, “who think they can use you or hurt you, you have me to deal with him.”

Frozen, unable to talk back and disagree with his rather flattering interpretation of yourself, you stared at him, his words replaying in your mind. You had him. Him. Not them. He wasn’t talking about himself and your brother, just about himself. He would deal with anyone who hurt you. A shiver ran through your body, but it wasn’t because of the dark promise he had extended towards you. Where it was received inside you, it curled up, warm, like a whispered secret. He would take care of you.

To your grief, that care seemed to be extendable to other areas as well, as Theo's attentive eyes caught the goosebumps on your arms and your light shivering. Loosening his hand from yours, he placed it again on the small of your back, frowning. “We have to get you inside, amore. You will catch death out here.” Begrudgingly, you agreed, partially because you couldn’t say no to those eyes.

With a gentle rub of his hand, he helped you stand and adjusted his jacket over your shoulders. Then, he led you inside again, where, though it wasn’t much warmer, the cold breeze subsided. But when he turned to the stairs leading down to the dungeons, you halted your steps, causing him to stop as well and raise his brow at you. You gave him a pleading look as you held on to his jacket for support. “He’ll be waiting. I don't want him to ask questions when I turn up so early.”

Theo sighed, running a hand through his dark curls, but he nodded and you gave him a grateful smile. “Come with me,” he said, gratuitously, as if you wouldn't have followed him anywhere without him having to ask. But you nodded and let him take you up a staircase into the Transfiguration corridor, where he opened the first door with a bit of wandless magic.

Any other night, you might have protested breaking into a classroom, but you made no sound of complaint as he opened the door for you and led you inside, closing it softly behind you so the noise would go undetected. A small click told you that he had locked it again, though Filch was rarely out and about on nights of Slughorn’s parties, as too many partygoers drove him mad.

As you sat down on one of the tables in the front row, hands tugged into the pockets of Theo's jacket, he opened one of the closets, seemingly looking for something. Seconds later, he reemerged, balancing a board of chess in one hand. Something like a satisfied smile tugged at his lips when your eyes lit up in an instant. He walked over, placing the board on the desk you sat on, before hoisting himself up to sit on the other end, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt to find a more relaxed position.

Your eyes clung to the exposed skin of his collar for just a moment, but a moment too long, as he quirked a teasing brow at you when you snapped your eyes back to his face. Feeling your face grow hot, you busied yourself with placing the chess figures on the board. White for you, black for him, as always. His eyes followed the movement of your hands on the board and you felt a certain nervosity coil in your stomach at the intensity with which he observed your hands.

Once the board was ready, you did the first move. His eyes snapped up at you shortly before he extended his veiny hand to move one of his central pawns. And so it continued. You both made your moves, sometimes fast and certain, other times slow and hesitant. His brows were drawn in concentration, and you attempted to focus on the game instead of the way his pensive expression made you want to lean over and kiss him.

Theo was a formidable chess player, and you weren’t so bad yourself. When you had both finished your school work, playing chess was a common pastime in his room, both of you sitting on his sheets and balancing the board between you. It wasn't so different now, only that you were starting to notice things in the pale moonlight you hadn’t before.

The deliberate movement of his hands, how his fingers sometimes stilled over the board as he glanced up at you, gauging your reaction to what he was about to do. The way he ran his hands through his hair after you’d made a good move, and the way his lips would quirk whenever he’d taken advantage of one of your weak positions. He was so utterly magnetizing you had to force your attention on the game, determined not to let him beat you too easily. Usually, it was Theo who won the match, but you tended to put up a good figh. It wasn’t easy to entertain him, but somehow, it was always him who asked for a match or had already got out the board when you arrived.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t the only one somewhat distracted. Usually, it was enough for Theo to analyze your moves and strategies, never having had a problem with wavering concentration, unlike his best mate. Something was different tonight. Maybe it was the dress. Only now did he realize how low-cut it really was, made worse by the fact that you had to lean over the desk to move your chess men, giving him an enticing view of your cleavage- if he hadn’t physically restrained himself from looking by digging his nails into the palms of hands violently. Maybe it was his jacket on you. This clear sign of his claim on you.

Feeling dirty and horrible for these thoughts, he looked back down to the board he had been absentmindedly moving figures on and realized he hadn’t seized an important opportunity, but rather allowed you to break through his rangs so that now, you were in a position to take his queen. He cursed quietly under his breath and you gave him a sceptical and somewhat accusatory look.

“You’re letting me win.”

“I’m not,” he replied truthfully, but you didn’t believe him, and how was he supposed to explain to you that he had been so occupied with staring at you he had let his concentration slip to such a point? He himself was a little shocked, having believed his discipline to be stronger after years and years of rigorous training. But you were still you, amd if someone could distract him, it had to be you.

“Check,” you mumbled, and you both did a few more moves until you said “Checkmate” and took his king with your queen. But you remained in place, neither of you willing to let this moment pass without resolving the unspoken tension that had settled in the air between you as you played.

Without taking his eyes off yours, Theo flicked his wrist and made the board and pieces fly back into the cupboard, which sealed itself. Closing the now unoccupied distance between you, both of you shuffled closer on the desk, neither breaking eye contact. Suddenly, you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye. It was his hand, moving slowly towards your face, hovering in the air for the split of a second before cupping your cheek and tilting your head lightly, reveling in the way you gave into his touch so willingly.

“I must confess something, carina,” his voice sounded into the silence and you frowned, your heart beating faster with anticipation. A light smile settled on his lips, uncharacteristically sheepish, as his thumb brushed over your lower lip, eyes locked on the way it gave in to the pressure of his thumb. “I might have been assigned to you tonight, to protect you.”

Ignoring the pang of disappointment in your chest, you scoffed without any malice behind it. But you refused to look away as his breath mingled with yours, the silence in the classroom seeming louder than before. The space between you had disappeared without either of you noticing, and his fingers were warm against your skin. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed, but he didn’t pull away. His gaze flickered between your eyes and lips, dark and unreadable, his breathing slow but unsteady. The air between you felt thick, charged, like the moment before lightning struck.

You should have moved. Said something. Diffused the situation before it crossed the point of no return. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. The warmth of him, the way his knee pressed against yours, the way his breath ghosted over your lips- it held you in place. His grip tightened just slightly, as if grounding himself, as if testing if you’d pull away. But you didn’t. The silence stretched, became unbearable, and your lips parted, his eyes clinging to them.

“Well, Theo. Are you going to protect me from yourself?”

It was the last straw. Suddenly, his lips were on yours, soft but firm, moving against yours and you gave into him in an instant, as if on instinct. Both his hands cupped your face now, tilting it slightly to give himself a better angle. His lips were so soft you wondered whether he’d put on lipbalm earlier, his touch so tender you couldn’t help but feel content, right here and there. You kissed him back, but he took the lead with unmistakable certainty, tugging lightly at your lower lip with his teeth and making your breath hitch before closing the distance once more.

But there was something missing. Theo was kissing and touching you as if you were made of glass and could shatter at the lightest touch. His kisses were loving, but careful, only gently tugging at the curtains you wished to rip open and let your senses be overflown with sunlight.

The moment he detected you struggling to catch your breath, he released your lips, looking down on your flushed face with a light smile. So damn satisfied, so superior. But you’d show him. Fisting your hands in his shirt, you leaned up at him but he evaded your lips, tutting softly at your endeavors and the frown scrunching your brows together.

Feeling quite frustrated and desperate to release the tension that had been brimming inside you all day, you scraped together your last bits of Italian you had picked up, poring over language books in the library. Your voice shook, uncertain, as you spoke, and the words came out slightly broken, almost inaudible. “Ti voglio… così … così tanto,” you said breathlessly, and in what had to be a heavy english accent. (I want you so much)

Theo let out a shaky exhale, and he corrected you without thinking, his voice so low it sounded more like a rumble. “Ti voglio così tanto.”

A beat. Silence. And then, finally, something inside him seemed to snap. The careful restraint in his grip vanished, replaced by something raw, something reckless. His fingers slid back into your hair, tightening just enough to tilt your face up to his as his lips crashed onto yours, all hesitation gone. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t measured. It was heated, desperate, like he had been holding himself back for too long and had finally lost the battle.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you flush against him as if he needed to feel you, to prove to himself that you were here, that this was real. A low sound rumbled in his throat as he deepened the kiss, as his fingers curled tighter against your waist, as he poured everything- every once of frustration, every unsaid thing, every moment spent pretending it wasn’t inevitable - into the way his lips moved against yours.

His hand on your waist slid down to your thigh, grabbing a handful and pulling you every more closer until you sat halfway in his lap. At his firm touch, your breath hitched in your throat and he responded with a low growl, hand slipping higher and higher until-

You pulled away, chest heaving and head spinning, unable to grasp a thought. But fear had surged through you, as the images of the boys you’d kissed before flashed in your mind, after Mattheo had been done with them. Panic and pleasure coiled into an almost painful knot in your throat and all you could think, as you tightened your hands in his shirt, was not him, not him, not him. You shouldn't be doing this. He was your brother’s best friend, he was off limits. He was freedom.

“Carina?” his voice broke through to the hazy mist clouding your mind and you looked up at him with wide eyes. The look on his face took you off guard, because you had never seen him look scared before. Maybe you had even thought impossible. But now, his voice shook slightly as he ran his thumb over your jaw and his other hand departed from your upper thigh. “I’m sorry, carina. Merda- fuck- I- I shouldn't have, Non stavo pensando-” (I wasn't thinking)

Theo seemed to take your lack of response as fright rather than what it was: perplexity. Because Theodore Nott hadn't had trouble with slipping in and out of English since first grade. But now, as his eyes frantically searched your face for a reaction, as apologies stumbled from his tongue, he almost seemed unable to control in what language they were in.

Theo was astonished how quickly emotion and desire had taken over his senses, his body, his sacred self-control. Only now did he realize how reckless he had been, kissing you like that after just saving you from a handsy stronzo. Where had his filter been when he’d kissed you like that, when his hand had slipped up your dress, when your little gasps had only spurred him on? But you didn't seem as fearful as him, only staring at him with wide eyes as if he’d just discovered a damn new species. Running a hand through his hair in desperation, he lowered his voice. “Parlami, per favore. Talk to me, carina.”

Snapping back to your senses, you shook your head at him rapidly. “It's not- I didn't mean-”. You felt your cheeks grow hot but you held your gaze steady and didn't loosen the grip you had on his shirt. “I liked it. It was great. I was just-” You took a few breaths through your mouth, considering the words, weighing them in your mind before allowing your tongue to form a sentence. As you pondered your words, he sat still as a block of ice, staring down at you with those mesmerizing blue eyes of his.

“I don't want Mattheo to hurt you!” you finally managed to say and his brow arched. Frustrated with your lack of an explanation, you looked around the room as if the perfect sentence to explain your desperate predicament would jump out of one of the cupboards. “I know what he did to the other boys,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm, “to the other boys I've kissed. I don't want him to hurt you. A- and,” you hated yourself for the way your voice broke off and you had to start the sentence over, “and I know you love him like a brother, and you are his best friend, and I don't want to ruin that.”

“Oh carina,” he sighed, rolling the r even more heavily than usual, and the small smile that tugged at his lips had the conflicting desires to hit him or kiss him battle inside of you. Theo visibly relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders and the movements of his fingers settling into a calm rhythm once more. His relaxed stance didn't even make the slightest bit of sense to you as you frowned at him, voice laced with fear and worry.

“Mattheo will kill you.”

Theo’s heart seized as he looked into your worried, fearful eyes. Worried for him, your hand clutching his shirt like you never wanted to let him go. You didn't want to ruin his friendship with Mattheo. You were afraid he would hurt him. Dio, you were so fucking selfless, so sweet and caring. How could anyone see you as unapproachable or cold, or anything short of wonderful? But at the same time, the kiss-induced haze in his mind slowly started to clear up as he seemed to sober up, recognizing the sensibility of your words. Right. You were Mattheo's sister. You were off-limits.

It cost him every last ounce of self-control to pry your fingers away from his shirt gently, and a numb pain tugged at his heartstrings when they fell purposelessly into your lap. “Let's get you back to your dorm,” he mumbled, trying to be the voice of reason, not the greedy vulture raging inside his head that yearned to rip that pretty dress off of you and worship you like you deserved, to make you forget all about Campbell and his disgusting attempts. He longed to hear the sounds you would make when he touched you in all the right places, he wanted you to curl your fingers into his hair, he wanted to hear you moan his name, and his name only.

But alas, he stepped back from the table, banning the forbidden images from his head, and approached the door, desperately trying to clear his head. It was only when his hand hovered over the door handle that he realized you hadn't followed. Turning around, he saw you were still sitting where he had left you, on the desk, clutching his jacket around yourself, eyes fixed on him. The glint in them was dangerous, it tempted him more than anything, drew him in like a magnet. Shakily breathing out, he turned and faced the door, fingers closing around the handle. “Tell me to go.”

There was a pause, during which he could only hear your breathing, still labored as a result of the messy kiss. He could picture you so well. Clutching his jacket, your hair disheveled where his fingers had run through it and your eyes- dio, your eyes… When you spoke, your voice was quiet, but firm. As if you'd made up your mind about something. “You never listen to me anyway.”

That was all it took for his resolve to crumble. Mattheo and chivalry be damned as he turned on his heel and had reached you in a few strides, crashing his lips against yours. As his hands on your neck urged you ever more closer, you let out a surprised squeak, but the split of a second later, your eyes fluttered close and you kissed him back, losing yourself in the bliss.

Low phrases were muttered against your lips, but you barely registered them as you kissed him back just as feverishly as he did. Your shaky fingers ran over his chest, looking for any sort of halt, and he rumbled lowly into your mouth as his grip on you tightened and he opened your lips with his tongue. As his tongue slid into your mouth, it met little resistance. Instead, your fingers closed around his tie, unintentionally tugging him even closer to you and he cupped the back of your head, fingers carding into your hair. An embarrassing little mewl left your lips and the vehemence of the kiss made you lean back on the table, your back hovering inches above the surface. He followed, chasing your lips, closing in on you again and again and exploring the insides of your mouth with his tongue.

You had subconsciously been inching back on the desk and his hands departed from your neck to bury themselves in the flesh of your hip. With one fluid motion, he pulled you back over the smooth surface of the desk until your clothed core met his and you could feel his desire. Your skirt had ridden up to your upper thighs, but you made no attempts to fix it as you leaned into his touch, his kiss, his smell, his very being.

You could barely believe this was happening, the stuff of your forbidden little ovulation daydreams, and if his fingers hadn’t been kneading the flesh of your exposed thigh so maddeningly, you would have pinched yourself to make sure this was real. But it felt almost too real, too intense, too all-consuming, as his large palms ran over every inch of your body they could reach and he panted against your lips before clashing his onto yours again. Insatiable, ferocious, yearning for every part of you he could grasp.

If you had thought you were the only one desperate for the other, you had been so, so wrong. His frantic kisses and desperate touches were enough to convince you otherwise, his usual calm and coldness missing as you felt so fucking hot under his deft hands.

Experimentally, you rolled your hips against his crotch. His grip on your waist and hip tightened, fingers curling harshly into your flesh as he let out a shaky breath against your lips. But his voice was steady and firm as he warned you, “Careful with that, principessa.”

But you wanted to see him crumble, you wanted to see him lose control more than anything. So you leaned up at him, chased his lips and gave him your best doe eyes. His eyes gleaned dangerously in the relative darkness of the classroom as you tightened your grip on his shirt. “Theo…,” you asked in a pleading voice, trying to convey how damn needy he made you feel, how much his touch riled you up until all you could think was him, him , him, and the way he pressed against your pulsing core. “Per favore…”

Again, the Italian seemed to do the trick. Something in his gaze shifted as his eyes snapped down to your lips, and further down, over your heaving chest to your bare thighs, molding into the touch of his large hands. He was panting, fighting against the utter loss of control, but when you repeated the words in the most adorable English accent and rolled your hips against his once more, he couldn’t help himself any longer.

Theo’s head dipped down to your neck and you mewled when you felt his lips trail down your throat. His tongue licked a long stripe up the column of your throat, where your breath hitched and he chuckled darkly against your skin. Breathing in your perfume that always fucking lingered in the room when you were there, so near and out of reach, he connected his lips to your sensitive spot and felt a jolt of pleasure at your high-pitched gasp.

Suddenly, for the split of a second, your mind cleared up and you tugged his head away from your neck in a panic. You only got a low growl in response, along with a roll of his lips that made you mewl softly and slap a hand over your mouth at the embarrassing sound. “Th- theo," you managed to stutter out, the words falling clumsily from your kiss-bitten lips. You only got a throaty sound in return and your grip in his hair tightened. “Theo, h- he can’t see.”

That, if nothing else, made him halt his relentless ministrations of your neck and raise his head to look down on you. You looked so utterly irresistible in the dim moonlight shining through the windows. Your hair a mess, your lips plump and swollen, your eyes wide and fearful. Fearful for him. Merlin, he felt like he had the whole world at his fingertips. His intense gaze made you shudder as you leaned up again, a pleading look in your eyes and laced into the tone of your voice. “Theo-”

But before you could say more, he cupped your cheeks and kissed your temple, breathing in through his nose as if commanding oxygen back into his lungs. “I’ll just have to do it somewhere else then, won’t I?” he said under his breath, lips departing from yours kin so he could get another proper look at you and your flushed face. “Somehwere he can’t see.” His tone was so utterly seductive you could only nod, you knew your voice would break if you had tried to reply.

But he tutted softly, tilting his head and you recognized the teasing look in his eyes. His hand cupped your cheek and his thumb ran over your bottom lip, eyes following the way it gave into his touch. “You’ve got to use your words, principessa, tell me what to do.”

Frustrated with his teasing, you moved your hips against his until his hands gripped at your waist, keeping you in place. He raised his brow at you. “Not cheating, are we?” One of his hands ran over your thigh gently, making any and all protest die on your tongue. A sharp gasp left your lips when it surged forward and cupped your crotch. Biting down on your lip, you suppressed a moan as he engulfed your clothed core with his large hand and tilted his head at you, brow still raised. “Anyone ever touched you there, carina?” A mocking smile curled his lips. “Anyone but yourself, I mean.”

Panting pathetically, you shook your head and he cooed at you, gently rubbing his palm over your cunt in a way that had you squirm against his hold. “H- ha, no one,” you gasped, hiding your blushing face in his biceps as your fingers curled into his shoulders, keeping you steady. “No one’s touched me there but y- you, Theo.”

Though Theo might have seemed all calm and collected, his mind was spinning at your words. With the revelation that he’d be the first man to touch you, to claim you, to ruin you for any other pathetic guy that might attempt to take his place. Because you belonged to him. He had to suppress a groan at the thought, but commanded himself to discipline. This night was yours, he was yours, and he had to keep his mind focused on you, on your pleasure.

In one motion, he hiked up your skirt until it was bunched up around your midriff, giving him the perfect view of your white lace panties against the dark wood of the desk. Licking his lips, he met your wide-eyed gaze. “Lay down on the desk, principessa.” That was right. You would be his princess tonight.

With great satisfaction, he watched you follow his order immediately. Your back met the wood of the desk and you suirmed against his hold to get comfortable, staring up at the ceiling. Your heart beat against your ribs like crazy, the sound of it filling your ears. His face had disappeared from your sight. All you could feel now were his hands, one keeping your hips in place, the other running a slow pair of fingers up your clothed folds. Your breath hitched in your throat and you bit down on your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the embarrassing sounds building up in your throat.

His next command sounded, soft but firm. “Spread your legs.” You did, thighs trembling, and you propped yourself up on one elbow just in time to see his eyes widen at the sight of you. Registering even the smallest movement, his eyes snapped up at you and you immediately laid back down on the surface of the desk, making him smile softly.

Theo got to his knees, nudging your thighs further apart and reveled in the abashed sounds coming from you. His fingers halted their movements on your clothed cunt to hook themselves around the hem of your lace panties and tug. A small squeak left your mouth and he chuckled. “So responsive…” In one tug, he slid off your underwear and discarded it somewhere next to him.

Your cunt was just as cute as he had imagined, and glistening with slick in the pale moonlight. Bringing his fingers back down to your cunt, he collected some of the substance, making you jolt. “All that for me?” he asked, teasingly, catching your frantic nod out of the corner of his eye. Then, he dove down and his lips met your puffy folds.

Shocked by the sudden feelings of his mouth against your cunt, you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that had threatened to escape you. But it was hard to keep your mind on the possible risk of getting caught in this utterly humiliating position when his tongue licked a long stripe up your folds, before diving in as if you were his last meal on earth.

Feeling his nose against your folds, his lips closed around your clit and you stifled another moan. With a low rumbling sound, one of his hands left your thigh and out of the corner of your eye, you caught him flick his wand at the door, suddenly deafening the sounds of wind howling in the courtyard. Before you could fully realize that he had just cast a muffliato charm on the door, his hand shot up and closed around both of your wrists, yanking them down and pinning them down against your hips. This had the added effect of stopping them from bucking against his face as he took advantage of the new angle to delve into your pussy like it was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

When he sucked at your clit, you moaned loudly, unable to muffle the sounds with your pinned-down hands, and your cheeks heated with shame. But Theo only chuckled against your folds, feeling his cock harden painfully against the confines of his trousers. Your little moans and mewls were music to his ears, and he worked his tongue tirelessly against your clit, eager to elicit more from you.

Releasing your other thigh, the hand that wasn’t holding down your bucking hips and binding your wrists wandered up to your cunt and he slowly entered his index finger into your tight little hole. He chuckled into your glistening folds when your back arched off the desk. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was the cry of his name that left your throat.

He damn near jolted, feeling blood rush towards his cock and, as if on instinct, his finger curled up inside of you, eliciting a strangled moan from you. He delved back into your warmth, working on your pretty pink hole with his index finger and sucking and licking at your clit until you were writhing and squirming against the desk, hips bucking helplessly but being held down by his unrelenting grip. Again, you mewled his name and he groaned into your pussy, feeling his knees grow weak and his head grow foggy.

Dio, how he could have listened to you saying his name like this forever. How often had he pictured you, whining and moaning, his name rolling off your tongue so filthily? But none of his filthy dreams could have prepared him for the real thing. His hips bucked helplessly into mere air when you moaned his name again, high-pitched and desperate as you shook under his hold. You were heavenly.

Theo's ministrations on your poor cunt were relentless, systematic and meticulous as you felt your insides tighten with white hot pleasure. You were barely in control of your whole body anymore, it felt as if he was a puppeteer, tugging knowingly at your strings and making you jolt and squirm, making you dance for him on the hard surface of the desk. All you could feel was him, all of your senses overtaken with white-hot pleasure. Your ears were ringing, so that you could barely make out your own words, repetitions of his name stumbling from your lips like a prayer.

He groaned against you, his grip on you tightening as his finger pistoned in and out of you, steadily working to make you unravel completely. “Che bei suoni, carina,” he moaned against your folds, liking up a long stripe and making your breath hitch audibly. “Una ragazza così brava, cazzo, such a good girl.”

His words made you whine as a coil tightened in your lower abdomen. You could almost feel his grin against your clit as his tongue darted out to draw circles on it and nearly drive you mad with the electrifying sensation. “You like being called a good girl, don’t you, carina?”

You could only mewl helplessly in response and his finger met that spot in you with a harsh thrust that had you cry out his name in ecstasy. “I asked you a question,” he growled and you felt tears form in your eyes at the overwhelming mounting of pleasure. Another finger of his started to draw circles on your clit, meticulous and experienced, as his grim blue eyes entered your vision, alight with something dangerous.

Nodding helplessly, you tried to force your tongue to form words as he knowingly hit every spot inside you that had you fall aprt and trash against his hold. “I- fuck, yes!”

A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he dipped his head back down, continuing his ministrations on your cunt. You attempted to roll your hips against his face, chasing the pleasure, but he tutted at you and pressed your hips down, making you sob in frustration. “Poor girl,” he chuckled against your hot wetness, “Can you take another finger, dolcezza?”

You nodded shakily, small whines of “yes, yes, yes,” filling the air. Your walls stretched deliciously around him when he added another finger. Throwing your head back with a moan, your thighs closed without your permission and finally, Theo released your wrists and hip to keep them parted, mumbling curses in Italian against your heat. His fingers curled up against the spot he now found with infuriating accuracy and instinctively, your hand shot up to your mouth to stifle the cry of pleasure threatening to burst past your lips.

But Theo seemed none too pleased with that, as his hand came down to deliver a not so gentle slap against your pussy. A cry of his name left your throat as your hips bucked with the delicious mix of pleasure and pain.

To stop yourself from covering your mouth again, you moved your trembling fingers down to his hair, where they gripped his curls in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. Theo didn't seem to mind, his tongue working restlessly on your clit, and he barely grunted when you tugged at his curls, another flash of burning pleasure shooting through you, making your thighs tremble in his hold.

Lost in pleasure, you could barely control your babbling anymore as everything and anything crossing your mind made it past your lips without filter. “H-he’ll kill you,” you hiccuped weakly, tears running down your cheeks as you felt the pleasure mount inside you. “Mattheo, he’ll m-murder you for th-this, s-so ah!” You gasped when his fingers curled inside you again, working meticulously on bringing you to your high as your walls clenched in a vice-like grip around them.

“I-I hope you’ve made peace with your life,” you slurred with half a mind and his tongue only worked faster on your clit as he hummed in content. “Cazzo- then I’ll die, carina. Dio sa, this is fucking worth it.”

Ramming his fingers into your squelching cunt, he looked up at your writhing and moaning figure, feeling something swell, not only in his trousers but in his chest. He had you like this. You, the untouched, off-limits sister of his best friend, the temptation he could never give into, the prize he could never have- and now he had you. Right where he wanted you. Falling apart on his tongue and his fingers, moaning his name to the heavens, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. And fuck him if he would earn Mattheo’s wrath, fuck him if he got into hell for sullying something so good, so pure, because it just felt so damn good.

You felt so damn good, he could feel himslef becoming light-headed, not even being inside you, alone from the image of you arching your back off the table, your pretty face flushed and scrunched up with pleasure. The image of his darkest dreams. He himself couldn’t even differentiate whether the praises and curses against your tongue were in English or his mother tongue as your high-pitched moans filled his ears.

His fingers hit the spot that had you tremble mindlessly again, and again, and again, until your walls clenched tightly around them and something between a sob and a moan broke out of your throat. “Th- theo, I��m cumming!”

As your high washed over you, you could do nothing but gasp and shake against him, as pleasure as you’d never once felt it crashed down on you and nearly made you see the pearly gates of heaven. A loud cry left your throat, and you didn’t even have half a mind to be thankful for the muffliato charm he had put on the door. All you could do was absolutely fucking fall apart on his fingers.

They worked you steadily through your high, his middle finger rubbing lazy circles on your clit as the world slowly took shape again around you and you felt his lips travel up the side of your jaw. “Such a good fucking girl, dolcezza, give me everything you've got.”

And give him everything you did, riding out your high against his fingers until you collapsed in his arms. He caught you before you could hit the table, fingers rubbing over your overstimulated cunt one last time before he dipped down to kiss you. You should have been embarrassed about tasting yourself on his tongue, but to your own surprise, a low moan left your lips. He swallowed it up eagerly, whispering praises between kisses. “Y’ did so well, my sweet fucking girl,” he mumbled, making you sigh into his next peck, “Did so damn good.”

As your breathing slowly calmed and no longer came out in ragged gasps, he helped you sit up and stood before you, before the desk, smiling down at you with one of those rare smiles of his. The lower half of his face was dripping with your release and your cheeks grew impossibly hot. “S- sorry,” you mumbled, raising a shaky hand to wipe some of it away, but he caught your hair mid motion and pressed a trail of kisses over your palm, down the skin of your upper arm.

When your arm fell slack against your side, he gave you a teasing grin and darted out his tongue to lick some of your juices from his lips. Chuckling at your wide eyes, he pressed his lips to your temple and ran a hand through your hair. “How’re you feeling, carina?”

“Uh-,” you muttered , voice raspy and shaky. “G- good. I think.” An abashed smile tugged at your lips and he returned it with his casual confidence, cupping your face to kiss you softly. His lips met yours in a tender caress and you leaned into him as if he were your lifeline.

Slowly, the realization of what you had just done dawned on you. And you noticed another thing: something firm and hard pressing against your thigh. With trembling fingers, you sneaked a hand between your bodies, hovering over the tent in his trousers for a moment of hesitation before palming it through the fabric. In an instant, his grip on your face tightened and he let out a low hiss. You only felt spurred on, but to your disappointment, his larger hand wrapped around your wrist and gently tugged it away from his clothed erection.

“Not that I would ever spurn your touch,” he mumbled sheepishly, visibly more light-hearted than before but with a certain strain in his voice that undoubtedly was the result of his unresolved business down there. “But not tonight.”

He smiled at the way your brows scrunched up in a frown, hands fisting his shirt as you pulled him closer. “But-”

He shut you up with another kiss that had you cave in immediately, rubbing slow circles on your exposed thigh. “Another night,” he whispered against your lips, “I’ll take care of this myself.” Your eyes fluttered shut with the way he kissed you so gently, yet unrelenting. The tone of his voice told you, unmistakably, that you had no chance convincing him to let you help him.

“But, don’t you want it?” you breathed against his lips, a certain anxiety curling in your stomach.

But he only chuckled, somewhat darkly, and continued to rub circles on your thigh. “Dio, of course I want it. Ah-” With a soft tut, he caught your wrist once more and guided it to his lips to press a soft kiss onto the back of your hand. “Let me worry about that.” There was no room for argument or protest, so you sighed and shrugged, making him smile again. You had rarely witnessed a smile of his last so long. Usually, it were quips of amusement, glimpses behind the stony facade, but he seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood.

“Another time,” you agreed, leaning up to welcome another peck of his lips. Retreating slowly, you opened your eyes at him and lost yourself in the cerulean pools, brimming with something much more affectionate than lust. And suddenly, it felt almost natural to say it. “Ti amo, Theo.”

Groaning, Theo had to seriously refrain himself from throwing all caution to the wind and fucking you stupid right then and there on the desk. But he needed your first time to be special, not in an abandoned old classroom. Ti amo, Theo. You loved him. Damn right, you did. His heart thrummed dangerously fast against his lips, almost as painful as the strain in his pants. Ignoring the ache in his cock, he pressed a long kiss onto your burning cheek. Merlin, you were just adorable. “Anch’io ti amo, carina,” he muttered and relished in the smile that lit up your face.

It took a lot of ciorridors until you managed to overcome the uncontrolled trembling in your legs, and even more until you were able to walk without clutching his arm for support. Still, Theo kept his arm around your waist as he led you down the stairs to the dungeons, never wanting to move it again. Your hand fisted his shirt against his back and from time to time, he leaned over to press a kiss onto your cheek, making you giggle. It echoed off the walls, but neither of you could have cared less. Theo felt like he would hex anyone who disturbed you two now into next week. But nobody did cross your path on the way down, all the partygoers seeming to have left for their dorms or homes already.

At the door to the boy’s toilets only a few corridors away from the common room entrance, Theo slowed his steps and you came to a halt before him. With great reluctance, he let go of your waist and got a hold of your hand to press another kiss onto it- like the chivalrous bastard he was. Your cheeks heated at the simple gesture and a silly smile made your eyes shine.

“Fix that hair and dress before you enter the common room,” he muttered softly into the silence, one hand on the door handle to the boy’s toilets, the ache in his pants reminding him of his unfinished business. “Or your brother might get to the Gryffindor bloke before I do.”

Nodding, you let go of his hand, but didn’t turn away. something unspoken, something unanswered still hovered between you, and you needed to dress it before you could enter the privacy of your dorm. “So…,” you said, hesitantly, “Are we, like…?” You left the question unanswered and he raised a brow, mocking you. Theo offered you no assistance as you stuttered yourself through the sentence. “Well, are you my boyfriend now?”

“Well, what did you think?”

Now it was your turn to raise your brows at him, though a smile still danced around your slightly swollen lips. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t the castle’s biggest manwhore, Theo.”

Feigning offence, he leaned against the wall and looked you up and down.”A manwhore? Amore, I just risked my life for you. That has to mean something.” Though his tone was mocking, his eyes held a disarming severity that you recognized with a small nod. His lips twitched. “You really think I’d let myself fall for you just to play around?” He lowered his head, tilting it slightly. “You want proof? Fine. Ask me if I’ve thought about anyone else tonight.”

“I believe you,” you laughed, averting your eyes and shaking your head at him, an affectionate warmth filling your chest. Feeling brave, you leaned up to press a longer peck to his cheek and winked at him as you lowered yourself from your tip-toes.

“Well, have fun,” you smiled, teasingly, before turning on your heel to leave for the common room, glee and excitement coiling in your stomach into such a tight knot you would have felt the desire to jump up and down- if only your legs hadn’t still felt so weak.

He watched you turn a corner before you disappeared, something dangerous and dark twisting behind his ribcage when he saw you wobble slightly on your feet. Whatever it cost him, he would tell Mattheo. Because there was no way in fucking hell there would be a single sould left in this castle in doubt about who you belonged to.

a/n: if you've actually come this far, you have my respect: you just made it through 20k words of this. and for that, you deserve a reward 🏅

part 2 here

taglist: @lady-peiskos @hazeldunst @juliet-017 @furioussharkcat @onlytenkos @jannie-belaerys @blueflowerpots @whosyourgnomie @revesephemeres @longpondlibrary @aespaslut @hopeless--romamtic @s00ty-feet @iamheretoread1234 @devilsadvcte @jolly4holly

[iniquitousyearning]

theodore nott. | you’re mine tonight

summary: theodore nott is always willing to be used by you. if you’re going to use somebody, just let it be him.

word count: 800

tags: headcanons that once again turned into this. i try to keep things short, apparently im physically incapable🥹 nothing crazy here other then implied fwb, slight angst, reader heartbreak kinda cuz cormac sux, theo being good with words as always, make out session at the end

Theodore Nott, who watches as you and your situationship, Cormac, argue every single day.

Theodore Nott who sees you cry constantly as a result of these arguments, tonight no unorthodox exception as you come storming back into the Slytherin common room with tears streaming down your cheeks, kicking off your heels and throwing yourself down next to him on a secluded corner couch.

Your eyes, brimming with anguish and pleading for solace, lock onto his, a look he knows all too damn well.

Theodore Nott, who doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to pry, who already knows exactly why you’re here, sitting next to him, when you could be literally anywhere else. He reads the story in your tear-streaked cheeks and your trembling hands. It’s a scene he’s witnessed so many times he’s lost count.

Theodore Nott, who merely closes his book, runs a hand through his tousled hair, and rests the other on your knee. PDA is off the table since you don’t want Cormac to find out—even though he’s been sneaking off with more girls than you have fingers on both hands—so Theo simply looks at you with those steady, knowing eyes and whispers, “your dorm or mine?”

You swallow, grateful gaze shifting toward the door. It’s always so fucking easy with Theo.

“Always yours,” you murmur, rising to your feet and picking up your discarded heels. Without waiting for his response, you start toward his dorm, certain he’s right behind you. He always is.

Theodore Nott, who shuts the door and locks it behind you as the two of you enter. The lights are dim, the shadows of the Black Lake ripple against the walls, and moonlight flickers throughout the room. Theodore Nott, who notices the look on your face well before you do, who can already sense the words that are about to slip past your teeth.

Theo knows well enough by now that you only come to him when you’re hurt, and you never feel good about it until he reassures you it’s okay. He sees it in the subtle shift of your gaze, the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your lips—a silent plea for forgiveness he’s already long granted you.

“I’m sorry, Theo…”

Theodore Nott, who understands you just need someone to hold you right now. Someone who will look at you with warmth, with desire, with need, someone who will give you all of himself in this moment. A shoulder to cry on, bedsheets to lie on.

“It’s okay, bella, don’t apologize…”

Theodore Nott who steps closer, his hands stern yet gentle as they cup your cheeks, drawing your gaze to his. Reverent blue eyes glisten like two oceans, drowning you in their warmth. Theodore Nott who brushes the damp from your cheeks with his thumbs before leaning down, grazing his lips over yours, feather-light.

“I’ve said it about a million times, you know I’ve already told you—“

Theodore Nott, who interrupts his own sentence by pressing his lips to yours, inhaling a sharp breath as your salty sweetness ignites in his mouth. Tears mingle with your cherry lip gloss, his hands sliding back into your hair, and he’s lost and then found again—as though you’re the only beacon in a world shrouded in darkness, the answer to all his unspoken questions.

Theodore Nott, who needs this, who wants this just as much, if not more, than you do.

“—if you’re gonna’ use somebody…use me…”

Theodore Nott who practically growls those words into your mouth as fervour takes over, as hunger roars harder and stronger with each passing second. One hand grips your hair, holding your lips to his while the other falls to your blouse, slender fingers undoing the buttons with a speed that leaves you breathless.

“…I’m so fucking willing to be somebody you need…”

His fingers deftly slip the last button free, his hand sliding beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of your skin. The touch sends shivers through you, your body responding to his every move. His lips trail down your jaw, pressing hot kisses along your neck, making you gasp. Theodore's grip on your hair tightens just enough to tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to his eager mouth.

The room seems to shrink around you, the flickering moonlight casting shadows that dance across the walls, mirroring the wild rhythm of your hearts. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense.

"You drive me insane…how much I fucking want you drives me insane," he admits, his breath hitching. "Every time I see you with him…every time I see what he does to you…it kills me…”

Theodore Nott whose words are like gasoline to an open flame, igniting a fierce need within you, scorching while simultaneously taming the desire to be desired. Theodore Nott who groans as you clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to close any distance between you as he shifts you around and begins backing you up toward his bed.

"Show me, Theo," you whisper. "Show me how much you want me."

With a growl, Theodore crashes his lips back to yours, the kiss searing and urgent. He moves with you effortlessly, guiding you towards the bed, never breaking the contact. As you fall back onto the soft sheets, his body follows, covering you completely. His hands roam over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, each touch more intoxicating than the last.

"You're mine tonight," it’s a promise. Not a question. "No one else's. Just mine."

pretty divider made by: @saradika-graphics

[gemissleeping]

Moonlight & Masks

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Newly turned Death Eater Theodore Nott is tasked with hunting down Harry Potter and the Order Operative protecting him. Only to discover the person he hunts happens to be the one he loves.

Length: 1.8k

Notes: Back from the dead (I am so sorry things are hectic and I don’t want to release a chapter I’m not feeling) with this little one from @thatdammchickennugget’s Hogmarch Challenge! Death Eater Theo. Use of the killing curse. Angst as always because we know I live for the drama. For those of you wanting more Veleveteen, in my head this occurs in the same story universe (which I know isn’t the same as an update pls forgive my sins). Not proofread, we have deadlines to meet.

The sting of lightning hung in the air as she weaved through the trees. The thundering footfall still pressing behind her. Lungs burning with need, she pressed on. Dizzied from the turbulent descent she and Mad Eye had suffered.

Alastor. He was dead.

She hadn’t even been able to take his body from the dirt where it had fallen. And the Death Eaters certainly wouldn’t afford him the dignity of a proper burial.

Tears clawed at her cheeks as she bounded over the tree roots twisting across the forest floor. Thinking only of Mad Eye, the way his voice had simply ceased when the curse had hit him. No cry of pain, no strangled wail. Only silence.

Her grip on her wand tightened as her tears ran hot. The taunting laugh of one of her pursuers echoing through the trees as they crashed after her. The darkness spinning endlessly around her. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Gone were the rules they had been taught to play by. Humanity sacrificed for power. Thoughtless with rage, she cast back her wand into the leering shadows. Letting the words fall from her lips before her heart could catch them.

Avada Kedavra

The green light felt as though it tore right through her as it ricocheted from her wand. Scattering through the trees and hitting its mark with a crack. Ripping at her chest with blistering heat, forcing her ribs apart until the spell dissipated. The laughter ceased. That same absence that had followed earlier resting through the trees. She was dragged to a still.

The force of the spell brought her to her knees. Bark breaking the skin of her palms, blood blooming as she fell forward in agony. She felt it being torn from her throat just now; some vital piece of herself. What she had given to cast the curse. The crack rung through her ears. Trailing her even as its ringing grew soft, faded into the background of the forest’s creaks and stutters. She could feel the heaving of her chest, dizzied by the absence that had been dug into her.

Before she could break upon the forest floor completely, the snap of a twig behind her brought reality rearing back. Whipping to face the darkness, she searched the teasing shadows that surrounded her. Nothing answered but the wind. She pushed herself up on bloody palms, staggering towards the nearest tree. Catching the glint of a metal smile hit by moonlight as she turned. But it was too late.

The Death Eater was on her in a second, wand jammed to her throat. One hand wrenching her head back by the hair. A mutilated snarl coming from the unmoving mask.

“Potter.”

She still had Harry’s face.

The figure towered before her, gloved hand pulling harshly at her hair as she strained against their grip. More tears pricking at her eyes as she faced the smooth and indifferent wall between them. Both of them were wearing masks really. But the thought brought little comfort to the nausea biting at her.

She was going to die someone else.

Wand to her throat, she closed her eyes. Preparing for the flurry of hot green light. Perhaps it was what she deserved, it could be a mercy. This way she would never have to truly face what she had done. There was no doubt in her mind that the person before her would finish the job. And yet she waited, but nothing came.

Opening her eyes once again she found him watching her carefully. Blue eyes clouded with something foreign, his silver mask lodged in the dirt at their feet. Looking at her with nothing but quiet restraint. She felt her throat close at the sight of him, all defences leaving her as she stared up at the boy before her.

“I asked something of you, when I saw you last,” Theo spoke lowly, wand still jammed to her throat as though he didn’t fully trust the person he saw before him. “Do you have an answer for me?” His voice fell flat against the forest air, low and heavy as his empty eyes.

His words sent another wave of dizziness crashing through her. The events of the past ten minutes threatening to bring everything up from her stomach. She wanted to fall into his chest and let his robes soak up her tears. To slice her palm clean across his cheek. Fall to the forest floor and not get up. Beg him to finish the job.

But instead, she did as she was told; she stayed quiet. Like the good little soldier they had taught her to be. Counting the freckles and moles that dotted the skin of his cheeks like they were her favourite constellations.

“Answer the question,” Theo snarled again, shoving her back forcefully. Back hitting the jagged edges of bark with an audible crack as a groan left her. Still she didn’t speak, blinking up at him as her head spun from when it had made contact with the tree.

“I’ll do it Potter,” he hissed lowly. His wand cutting further into her throat as she struggled to breathe under its pressure. He barely seemed to notice, staring down at her with empty eyes. “Don’t think I won’t just because you have something I want.”

She only watched him carefully, trying not to let herself give it away as she watched him. Staving off the clouds of memory that threatened to consume her at the sight of him.

“No?” He chimed, a sharp edge to his warm voice, “Very well.”

He drew a breathe, anger taking him in its burning grip. But just as the curse he had planned to cast was forming a whisper of air on his lips; she felt it. The rippling beneath her skin. Pulling and tugging and melting at the fibres of her. She bit her tongue as the pain of it ripped through her. Reforming beneath the skin as everything cracked and popped in and out of place. Until only she remained, swimming in Harry’s ridiculous hoodie.

Theo still had her pressed against the tree, all colour drained from his face as he watched the skin seem to melt and reform on her bones. His hands began to shake. She watched him with distant eyes, trying to hold onto what little restraint remained.

“What’s wrong?” She asked hoarsely, her throat aching from the potion’s due course. Theo’s wand still hesitantly pressed to the delicate skin of her throat. “Can’t do it anymore?”

It happened like the break of a dam. Her name fell from his lips in a rush of credence. Lips falling apart at the sight of her before him, what he’d almost done without realising. His wand dropped in a stagger, as though she had struck him. The darkness of the forest enclosing around them.

“You left me there,” he breathed suddenly, as though it hadn’t meant to come out. She blinked up at him as confusion swept her. But the lost look he carried only washed away as his eyes hardened.

“What?” she breathed.

“You left me there alone,” he spoke again, ignited with a sudden rage. His words were like kindling to her own. Her brow cracking with anger.

“No, Theo,” her voice shook, “you left me.” Theo looked to the ground, shaking his head gently in denial. He took a hesitant step forwards, as though to reach for her. But she stepped back, her spine hitting the tree. “Do you know how much I had to go through alone before I got out of there? Because you were too busy running off with Draco, or-”

He closed the distance between them with a blistering intensity.

“Do you know what it’s been like since? Without you?” It came out in a boiling whisper. “He wants your head almost as much as he wants Potter’s,” Theo’s eyes softened at the words, swept up in whatever memory they procured. “And I just have to sit there and take it, listening to the vile things they plan to do to you. Knowing there’s not a single fucking thing I can do about any of it, except for-”

He didn’t have to say it, the break of his voice said enough. The way his eyes fled from her own. He had meant to kill her.

“Why don’t you do it then?” She whispered, eyes brimming with more tears. Looking to the boy she had loved since she was too young to understand the word. “It would save me the-”

“Stop it.”

“I deserve it, don’t I? For leaving you. You said so yourself, in your letter. I read it you know.”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

“I know you’ve cast it before-”

“I said stop,” he bellowed, pressing himself against her in a flash of pent up fury. His body flush against hers as his chest heaved with the weight of his rage. “Even if I wanted to,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against her ear, “I can’t.” His hands tightened into fists, “He wants to do it himself.”

He peeled himself away from her, as though every inch of his skin that couldn’t feel hers was the worst form of torture. Drinking in every part of her except for her eyes, which he couldn’t bring himself to meet. She searched his, begging him to pull himself to meet hers.

“Is it that?” She breathed, fearful eyes rounded as she looked up to him. Searching for that thread that had always hung between them. His eyes grew tense as he saw what thoughts lay in hers, “Or is it because-”

“Stop.”

-you love me.

“Don’t,” he snapped, but even the sharp edge of his voice couldn’t distract from the despair swimming in his eyes. “Please,” he breathed, his head dipping towards her neck in defeat, but not daring to brush the skin, “don’t.”

He wanted to hold her, let his fingers trail across her cheeks, brush his thumb over her eyelashes. Just to make sure it was really her. Not some cruel trick made out to test his loyalty. But instead he let his breath fan across the bare skin of her neck. Knowing it was the only way he could allow himself to touch her.

“It was you I asked after,” his confession fell dead against the skin of her neck. He heard the breath she drew as though it was taken from him. Felt himself unravelling being so close to her now, after months of waiting and silence and searching.

Fuck it.

He’d be flayed for it, but everything could be damned. None of it mattered if he could feel her lips on his again. His hands flew to the delicate skin of her cheeks. Palms soaking in the remainder of her tears as his lips met hers. They parted effortlessly for him, welcoming him in as though she had been waiting just as he had. The softness of her lips balancing against his hunger. Her head tilted towards him, completely at his mercy beneath his calloused palms. Just as she should have been all this time.

[thatdesigirl17]

all i need is you I part one

series masterlist. masterlist.

a/n: so the first part is up! it’s short and not that interesting as it just like sets the scene but I promise interesting things are coming ahead, hope you like the series, I’ll try to put the parts up asap and maybe even a playlist, there are no warnings I think except the curse words

It all started in the third year when Y/N had lost her baby fat and had a glow-up, making her stand out in Hogwarts. So when Adrian Pucey asked her out she agreed to go on a date with him. Adrian was sweet until they reached back to the castle, he started getting a bit too comfortable which bothered Y/N. She politely declined all his advances and wouldn’t put out, which damaged Adrian’s fragile ego. He left her stranded in a courtyard and stormed to his dorm. She returned to her dorm, alone. 

Over the next few weeks, people started looking at her differently, judging her, whispering about her. Adrian and his friend group had spread rumours about Y/N having a one-night stand with all of them, earning her the reputation of being the Hogwarts’ in-house slut. No matter how much she tried to deny it and save her image, the damage was done and all her efforts reaped nothing. Instead, she decided the best option for her was to lay low and live with it. That’s when she decided she would never even talk to another Slytherin again. 

Being in Hogwarts was a blessing and a curse, since the whole incident Y/N had been on a few more dates but all of them ended badly with the boys wanting nothing more than to sleep with her. 

This had what happened with Cormac McLaggen and this was the reason Y/N was currently storming towards the Black Lake, late at night, after curfew with her clothes slightly dishevelled.

She reached the edge of the lake and slipped out of her shoes setting them aside and letting her bare feet dangle in the cold water. Her tears spilled and the voice of her sniffling filled the air. 

‘Waiting for your date, Y/L/N? What did you already use all the rooms inside the castle?’, a taunting voice came from behind. She didn’t even have to turn to recognise that voice. ‘Fuck off, Nott.’, she spat. She turned her head around looking at the beautiful Italian, standing behind her. Theodore Nott, the infamous pure blood who fit into every Slytherin stereotype, or so most thought. This was the reason that had made Y/N have a strong resolve against pursuing her crush on the boy. 

Theodore took in the tears that shined on her face in the moonlight as his gaze softened. ‘What happened?’, he asked as he fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and threw it in her direction. ‘Aren’t you a gentleman?’, she said sarcastically catching the piece of cloth. He rolled his eyes and his dead eyes stared into hers still waiting for an answer. ‘Don’t act like you care, Nott. I’m not going to fall for whatever sympathy act you might do, I’m not gonna sleep with you.’, she said, dabbing the soft cloth under her eyes drying her tears. 

‘As if I’m dying to sleep with you.’, he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes again, ‘I don’t need you to sleep with me, love, I’ve plenty of girls ready for that.’ He leaned on one of the trees and lit up a cigarette.

She sighed and got up from the edge, turning over to face him, ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ ‘You didn’t answer me, what happened? Found no guy to sleep with for the night? Want me to change that?’, he smirked taking a drag of his cigarette. 

‘For fuck’s sake.’, she murmured under her breath as she ignored him and started walking towards the castle. Theodore grabbed her wrist, turning her around to face him again. ‘You are so rude, Y/L/N. I ask you something and you just ignore me?’, he smirked, a playful hint to his voice that seemed to annoy Y/N further. ‘Come on, Y/L/N, please. Maybe I could help you.’, he pressed, stepping closer. ‘Yeah right.’, she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She held his gaze and his determination did not seem to waver. 

‘You won’t understand, you’re just like everyone else.’, she sighed. ‘You wound me, let me assure you I’m not just like everyone.’, he said, feigning an injury on his chest. ‘You are. Even you believe those stupid rumours.’, she said, crossing her arms around her chest. ‘What rumours?’, Theodore asked, searching her eyes that seemed to well up at the mention. ‘Oh’, he sighed, ‘You did not sleep with them, did you? Adrian and his little friend group.’ She shook her head, gulping, trying to stop herself from tearing down. ‘Those fuckers.’, he scoffed. ‘What happened today?’, he pressed the matter further. Y/N couldn’t avoid his question anymore.

‘Nothing really. Just what always happens. Went on a date, he tried to sleep with me and got mad when I said I won't.’, she said, avoiding his gaze. ‘Who?’, he asked, the briefest hint of protectiveness in his voice. ‘McLaggen.’, she answered, her voice breaking. ‘You really know how to choose them, don’t you?’, he smirked, trying to lighten the mood, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Y/N let out a shuddered breath, hugging herself tighter, trying to blink away her tears. ‘Hey, hey, hey, I was kidding, love.’, Theodore said, throwing his cigarette away and as he pulled her in, hugging her. ‘You aren’t wrong.’, she mumbled against his chest, breaking down. He comforted her, soothing her back. 

After a moment, the gravity of the situation settled into Y/N’s brain, registering what was happening as she stepped out of his embrace, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what got over me.’, she sniffled, wiping her tears from the back of her hand. ‘You don’t have to be sorry.’, he said quickly, putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging. 

The awkward silence surrounded them as she broke it, ‘I better get going.’ She gave him a short smile and turned walking back towards the castle. ‘Let me help you.’, he blurted out, stopping her in her tracks. ‘Help me? Help me how exactly?’, she said, turning to face him, confusion showcasing on her face. He pondered for a moment, ‘Be my girlfriend.’ ‘What?’, she scoffed in disbelief. ‘My fake girlfriend.’, he quickly corrected himself. ‘Fake girlfriend? What do you mean to say, Theo?’, she asked. ‘Let’s pretend that we’re dating. It’ll be a good thing for your reputation and if you do this, I can help you by making Adrian Pucey come clean about the rumours he started.’, he explained, shrugging and shoving his hands in his pocket. ‘Why help me? What’s in it for you?’, she asked, crossing her hands. ‘Let’s just say, I have someone to make jealous and doing this would accomplish that.’, he explained nonchalantly. ‘Who?’, she pressed. ‘None of your business’, he smirked as she glared at him, ‘Alright, Daphne.’ She chuckled hollowly but before she could speak, he interrupted, stepping closer, ‘Don’t make any rash decisions, sleep on it. Meet me tomorrow morning, near the quidditch fields with your answer.’ He tucked a strand of her stray hair behind her ear, winked and walked past her back to the castle. Y/N stood there dumbfounded her mind processing all of what had happened and the lingering question that Theodore had proposed.

[ahqkas]

Hello! I love your writings and I hope you are doing well <3 I would like to request Theo fluff on where reader has terrible time sleeping because she is use to having her teddy bear in her arms ever since she was a child. Like she thrown her teddy away because she was scared she would be make fun of. So she seeks Theodore so he in be in her arms. It’s just sweet fluff as Theodore smiles lovingly at her 🥺

-😴

TEDDY PICKER ; theodore nott

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

YOU TOSSED AND TURNED IN YOUR BED, THE SILENCE OF YOUR DORMITORY ONLY AMPLIFYING THE RESTLESSNESS YOU FELT. You had tried everything — counting stars, breathing exercises, even reading the most mundane passages from your textbooks — but nothing worked. The familiar comfort of your teddy bear was absent, a void you had created out of fear of ridicule.

Frustration mounting, you finally sat up, the moonlight casting a gentle glow through the window into your room. You couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness in your arms, the comforting weight of your childhood companion gone. With a sigh, you threw back the covers and slipped out of bed, your bare feet silent on the cold floor. There was only one place you could think of, one person you felt drawn to in your moment of need. Your beloved lover.

Quietly, you made your way through the darkened corridors, your heart pounding with both nerves and a strange sense of hope. You found yourself at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, hesitating only for a moment before whispering the password Theo had once shared with you in a moment of trust.

The room was dimly lit, a few embers glowing softly in the fireplace warmly. You navigated the shadows, your eyes adjusting to the darkness, and made your way to the boys’ dormitory. Standing outside Theo’s door, you took a deep breath before gently knocking on the wood.

A few moments passed before the door creaked open, revealing Theo’s sleepy yet alert form. His silver eyes softened with recognition and concern when he saw you so unexpectedly late at his door. “[Name]? What’s wrong?”

You felt a rush of embarrassment flood you, but the need for comfort outweighed the pride you held. “I . . . I can’t sleep. I know it sounds silly, but I used to sleep with a teddy bear. I got rid of it because I was afraid people would laugh at me, and now I can’t sleep without something to hold. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Theo’s expression softened further, a tender smile curving his lips. He reached out, gently pulling you into the room and closing the door behind you. The room was empty of the other boys, just with the two of you inside. “It’s not silly at all,” he murmured, guiding you towards his bed. “We all need something to comfort us.”

The Slytherin boy settled onto the bed and opened his arms, offering you the warmth and safety you so desperately craved. And with a grateful smile, you climbed in beside him, resting your head against his chest soundly. His arms encircled your form, pulling you close, and you immediately felt a wave of calm wash over you.

Theo’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, his breath warm against your hair. “You’re safe here,” he whispered and his voice sounded like a gentle lullaby. “I’ve got you.”

You nestled deeper into his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace. The comfort of his presence filled the void left by your teddy bear, the warmth of his body easing the tension from your aching muscles.

And as sleep began to claim you, you felt Theo press a soft kiss to the top of your head, his sweet smile evident in the tenderness of the gesture. “Sweet dreams, bella,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet, unwavering affection he held for you.

In Theo’s arms, you found the solace you had been searching for, the comfort that only he could provide. And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that this was where you belonged — safe, cherished, and wrapped in the loving embrace of the boy who had become your anchor in the night.

[theodorenmyth]

A Sky Without You II.

Pairings ; Theodore Nott x M!reader

Summary ; After the heartbreak, you and Theodore slowly find your way back to each other—late-night talks under the stars, genuine apologies, and quiet moments that show how much he’s changed. He’s patient, gentle, and clearly hurting too. You’re hesitant, but his sincerity breaks through your walls. You begin to laugh again, smile again, and bit by bit, let him in. Hogwarts watches in quiet awe as you return to your kind, radiant self—waving at portraits, helping first years, and becoming the bright star everyone missed so dearly.

A/N ; thank you so much for being patient and waiting for the last part, aka this one. I love you all so much and thank you for supporting my fics 🥹 it literally makes my heart flutter everytime you guys comment on my silly lil fics :3 Please, enjoy!

Warnings ; Heavy emotional angst, past emotional manipulation, mentions of depression, slow healing, soft reconciliation

Word count ; 6.5k+

You found a letter two days later.

Slipped into your astronomy journal, right between your sketched diagrams of Orion’s Belt and a list of new star names you made up when sleep wouldn’t come. You stared at the parchment for a long time, hesitant fingers brushing the edge.

The letter was written in careful, trembling ink. Like every word had been rewritten a dozen times and still didn’t feel like enough. There were faint smudges at the corner of the page—maybe from rushed hands or maybe from tears. You didn’t know which made your chest ache more.

You unfolded it slowly.

'I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.'

'But I want you to know that I stopped letting them laugh.'

'I told them what they did. I told them who you are.'

I told them how I fell in love with the boy who named 'constellations after freckles and believed in second chances like they were science."

'They said sorry. But I don’t think that’s enough.'

'So I’ll say it too. As many times as you need.'

'I’m sorry.'

–Theodore

You read it once.

Twice.

A third time.

And then you held it to your chest like it was a heartbeat you’d forgotten belonged to you. You didn’t cry. Not yet. But something cracked under your ribs, something that had been ice-cold for weeks.

And in that stillness—somewhere between heartbreak and healing—you folded the letter and slid it gently back into the pages.

Not thrown away. Not forgiven. But kept.

Because even the stars needed time to burn before they shined.

The Astronomy Tower felt warmer now.

Maybe it was the season shifting into spring. Or maybe it was just that for the first time in weeks, you weren’t the only one trying to heal.

You could hear the wind rustling before you even pushed open the heavy door. The night air was crisp, scented with damp stone and starlight. That familiar ache pulsed in your chest the moment you stepped inside.

Theodore was already there.

He stood at the far edge of the tower, facing away, his silhouette half-drenched in moonlight. The hem of his cloak fluttered in the breeze, but he didn’t move. Not even when the door creaked behind you. Not even when your soft footsteps echoed faintly across the stone floor.

He looked like he hadn’t moved in hours.

You took him in quietly for a moment. How his posture was rigid and tight, like even standing there was a punishment he welcomed. His head tilted just slightly upward—toward the stars. Toward the sky you used to teach him to love.

You hadn’t planned to speak.

You hadn’t planned to come.

But your feet had carried you here anyway. Like gravity. Like a force older than reason.

He finally turned when you stepped closer.

The way his eyes widened—it almost broke you. As if he hadn’t truly believed you’d come. As if he’d seen a ghost. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His fingers curled tightly into the edge of the stone railing to steady himself.

You stopped a few feet away. Not too close. But not far, either.

“I got your letter,” you said softly.

His breath hitched.

You reached into your pocket and pulled it out, a little crumpled from how many times you’d opened and read it. You placed it gently into his hand without touching him.

“It’s not enough,” you said, the words trembling but honest. “But I don’t think you’re lying.”

Theodore stared at the letter like it weighed more than it should.

“I’m not,” he whispered. “Every word was real.”

You looked up at him.

“Then tell me one truth. Just one. Something real. Something that isn’t a lie or an apology.”

He swallowed hard, eyes never leaving yours.

“I loved you before the kiss,” he said. “Before the bet ended. I loved you when you started talking about constellations like they were people. Like they had hearts. Like they were home.”

You froze.

He took a small step closer, careful not to spook you. “You told me Altair reminded you of me. You said it pulled its match across the sky no matter the distance.”

You nodded faintly, unable to speak.

“You were so excited,” Theodore murmured, voice tight with emotion. “You pointed and smiled and your eyes lit up like magic. And I—” His voice cracked. “I remember thinking, 'Gods, he’s beautiful. He’s too good for this.' And I kissed you.”

Your chest tightened.

“I kissed you because I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” he said. “And then I went and ruined it. Because I was weak. Because I let them laugh. Because I didn’t know how to be good enough for something so bright.”

He looked down, blinking quickly.

“I know I don’t deserve a second chance,” he whispered. “But I swear, I never wanted to hurt you.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Raw.

You let the words hang there. Let them settle into the cold stone of the tower. Let the wind carry them into the sky—into the stars you used to name together.

“I didn’t think you were listening,” you finally said, your voice low.

Theodore met your eyes again.

“I always listened,” he said, softer than before. “I just didn’t know what to do with everything I heard.”

You turned to the sky again, unable to bear the weight of his gaze.

The stars were painfully bright tonight.

“I still come here,” you said. “Not for you. For me. Because it’s mine. It was always mine. I’m not giving it up just because you’re in every memory.”

Theodore nodded slowly.

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

You stared at the constellations, tracing invisible lines in the air.

“You see that one?” you whispered. “That’s Lyra. It’s where Altair’s match lives. They only get one night together each year—when the bridge of magpies forms between them.”

He nodded.

Your voice dropped. “I always hated that story. But… maybe I understand it better now.”

He said nothing.

But when you turned your head slightly, you saw it—his expression cracked open, bare and fragile. Regret carved deep into every line of his face. But beneath it… something else. Something desperate. Human. Hopeful.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” you said, almost gently. “Not even close.”

“I know.”

“But I came back,” you whispered. “And I don’t know what that means yet.”

Theodore blinked rapidly.

“Maybe it means I’m not done with the sky,” you added. “And maybe it means you’re not completely dead to me.”

He let out a shaky breath that was almost a laugh.

“Can I stay?” he asked. “Just here. Just with you. For a little while.”

You hesitated.

Then—without looking—nodded.

“Fine,” you murmured. “But don’t talk. I don’t want to ruin the sky with your voice.”

A soft breath of relief left him, almost a smile.

He leaned beside you, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat of him.

You both tilted your heads upward.

And for a few minutes—quiet and slow—the two of you watched the stars.

No lies. No jokes. No forgiveness.

Just space.

And maybe, just maybe, the start of something new.

The air, still crisp, wrapped itself around your shoulders as you slowly took a seat on the familiar ledge of the Astronomy Tower. You didn't offer Theodore a place beside you—not at first. You simply sat there, hugging your knees to your chest, eyes turned toward the sky as if you were bracing yourself.

And maybe you were.

Theodore hovered at a distance. Silent. Unsure.

The stars were scattered across the inky black canvas above you, constellations whispering your name, waiting to be noticed again. You could feel them calling. You could feel the sky exhale when you looked up—like it had missed you.

You finally spoke. “That’s Vega.”

He blinked. “What?”

You pointed, barely lifting your hand. “There. That bright one. She’s part of the Lyra constellation.”

Theodore followed your gaze.

“Vega is one of the most luminous stars in the night sky. They say it burns blue and white—like it's always on the edge of something. Like it’s never really settled.”

Your voice sounded different. Softer. Older, somehow. Like someone who had lived through a galaxy of hurt and was learning how to speak again.

You didn’t look at him as you said, “She used to be the North Star.”

Theodore stepped closer, slow and hesitant, until he was standing beside you. You didn’t move away.

“Used to?” he asked, voice careful.

You nodded. “Stars shift over time. The Earth wobbles, and the stars follow. They don’t stay fixed forever. What used to guide us might change.” You looked down. “Even the stars move on.”

He sat beside you. A safe distance. Just enough to feel his presence, but not his touch.

“I was never your North Star,” he said quietly.

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

The silence between you was louder than any answer.

For a while, you both just sat there.

Quiet. Looking up.

Breathing the same air.

Grieving the same heartbreak.

Theodore broke the silence first. “After I left you that night—after the Hall—I couldn’t breathe.”

You didn’t look at him.

“But I told myself it was fine. That I did what I had to. That it was over. That it was just… a bet.”

He laughed—short, bitter.

“And then I started seeing your smile when I closed my eyes. Hearing your voice when I walked past the library. I’d catch myself turning toward the Gryffindor table just to see if you’d laugh when Granger said something annoying. I waited for your notes under my door. For your rambling about planets. For anything.”

Still, you said nothing.

“Then the notes stopped. Your smile disappeared. You vanished. And I realized… I hadn’t just lost a bet. I’d lost the best thing I ever had.”

You inhaled shakily.

“The worst part?” he added. “You still look beautiful when you're broken.”

You finally turned toward him. Eyes shining—not with hope. But with honesty.

“That’s not a compliment, Theo.”

“I know,” he said. “I know it’s not. I just— I don’t know how to talk to you without falling apart.”

You looked down at your lap.

The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t cruel this time.

It was heavy. Tired. Familiar.

“Tell me about the stars again,” Theodore said, almost a whisper.

You blinked.

“What?”

“Tell me what you used to tell me. About the sky. About the way it burns.”

You stared at him, unsure if you should. Unsure if your words could ever be just words again—not pieces of you you’d regret giving away.

But still, you turned your eyes upward.

“There’s a constellation called Scorpius,” you murmured. “Greek myth says it chased Orion, the hunter, across the sky. When Orion died, the gods placed them on opposite sides of the heavens, so they’d never meet again.”

Theodore looked up too.

“That’s sad.”

You shrugged. “Not really. They’re still in the same sky. Just… far apart.”

You felt him shift slightly beside you.

Closer.

Not close enough to touch—but enough for the warmth of his body to reach you.

“I’m not asking to be Orion again,” he said.

You glanced at him.

“I just want to stay in the same sky.”

You swallowed hard.

It wasn’t an apology. Not yet. It wasn’t forgiveness either.

But it was honest.

And that meant something.

You tilted your head back again.

“…That’s Andromeda,” you whispered. “It's named after the mythical princess Andromeda, daughter of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia, who was chained to a rock as a sacrifice to appease a sea monster, Cetus, and later saved by Perseus, who married her and placed her among the stars.”

Theodore looked where you pointed.

“It's kinda romantic if you ask me.”

You didn’t know why you told him that.

Maybe it was for him.

Maybe it was for yourself.

But when he looked at you—really looked at you—his eyes weren’t sharp anymore. They were soft. Ashamed. Full of something broken but beautiful.

Hope.

Slowly, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper.

He handed it to you.

You opened it.

It was a sketch—shaky and rough, but unmistakably drawn with care.

A boy, sitting on a tower. Reaching up to the stars.

The boy looked like you.

He had a soft smile.

Your chest ached.

“I started drawing after you stopped talking to me,” Theodore admitted. “It was the only way I could hold onto the parts of you I didn’t deserve.”

You stared at the paper, your hands trembling.

Then—without saying a word—you leaned your shoulder into his.

Just barely.

Just enough to say, I’m still hurt. But I’m still here.

Theodore closed his eyes.

And for the first time in months, both of you breathed under the same stars, under the same sky, and let the weight of the past drift into the silence.

Just a little.

Just enough.

The sun begins to rise over Hogwarts in hues of gold and soft lavender, painting the sky with delicate strokes of warmth. And for the first time in what feels like years, you don’t dread the light.

You blink slowly, the soft morning chill curling around your frame. A coat—his coat—is wrapped snugly around your shoulders. The Astronomy Tower is quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the occasional rustle of the wind, brushing through your hair like invisible fingers.

And then you look beside you.

Theodore.

Asleep.

His head leans slightly to the side, lips parted just enough for soft breaths to escape. His lashes fan over his cheeks like ink against parchment. The light is hitting his face perfectly—like even the sun couldn’t help but adore him in that moment.

He looks younger like this.

Softer.

And despite everything, your heart aches with something other than pain.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out a small Polaroid camera—one you haven’t touched since before the heartbreak. You used to take pictures of the stars. The moon. Even his sleepy expression during Astronomy class when he nodded off against your shoulder.

You hesitate for a moment… then lift the lens.

Click.

The camera hums, and the photo slides out with a quiet snap.

You shake it gently as it develops. The image forms slowly—Theodore in the golden morning light, his chest rising and falling softly, lips faintly curved like he’s dreaming something sweet.

You tuck the photo into your coat pocket with a tenderness you didn’t know you still had in you.

And then he stirs.

His eyes flutter open, squinting at the sun before they land on you. The world slows for a second. He blinks once, then smiles—sleepy, crooked, real.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He stretches, arms lazily reaching above his head before slumping back down, hair even messier than usual. “Did we fall asleep here?”

You nod. “You drooled on my sleeve.”

He groans dramatically and rubs his face. “Gods, I’m disgusting.”

“You always have been,” you say, but your smile is warm. Teasing.

He laughs under his breath, and the sound is so familiar—so him—that it loosens something tight in your chest.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he says softly, gaze fixed on your face. “Even in my sleep, I think I knew that.”

You glance away, the early sun making you squint. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I wanted to,” he says immediately.

You don’t know what to say to that.

But your silence doesn’t push him away.

Instead, he reaches out and brushes your knuckles with the back of his fingers—just a light touch, as if asking for permission.

You don’t pull away.

Not today.

────────────────

Later, in the Great Hall

When you walk into breakfast, everything looks the same.

Sunlight pours through the enchanted ceiling. Owls swoop between tables with letters clutched in their claws. First years chatter about a pop quiz in Transfiguration, and someone at the Ravenclaw table knocks over a goblet of pumpkin juice.

But something’s different.

You feel lighter. A quiet warmth sits in your chest, like stardust still clinging to your ribs.

You slide into your usual seat at the Gryffindor table, still wearing Theodore’s coat, your hair a bit messier than usual.

Hermione spots you first.

“Y/N,” she says slowly, brows knitting. “Where were you last night?”

Harry peers up from his plate. “Didn’t come back to the dorms.”

“I checked the Map,” Ron says with a mouth full of toast. “You were in the Astronomy Tower. What were you doing—stargazing alone?”

Neville furrows his brow, concern soft on his face. “You’re okay, right?”

Dean leans forward. “Do I need to hex someone?”

Seamus already has his wand halfway out.

Even Lavender and Ginny pause their whispered gossip session to glance your way. Fred and George are suspiciously quiet, exchanging a look before Fred raises a single brow.

You open your mouth—trying to explain, trying to deflect—but you’re saved by the doors of the Great Hall opening with a slow, purposeful creak.

Theodore walks in.

He looks sharper than usual. Uniform pressed. Hair slightly tousled but intentional. His eyes scan the tables until they find you.

He walks—no, strides—across the hall without hesitation, every Slytherin head turning to follow him.

He stops right in front of you.

In front of your entire friend group.

The hall goes quiet. Not dead silent, but noticeably hushed.

You stare at him, breath stuck in your throat.

He says nothing.

Just pulls a folded paper from inside his coat.

And places it gently on your plate.

You slowly open it—hands trembling just slightly. Inside is a carefully hand-drawn star map. Your favorite constellations. Every corner is scribbled with tiny notes.

'This one’s your favorite. You always smiled when you pointed it out.'

'I stayed awake last night trying to remember them all. Did I get it right?'

'For what it’s worth… I still see you in every single one.'

Your heart clenches.

You can feel every single one of your friends staring at you, speechless.

Theodore leans down, his voice low, only for you.

“You said you wanted something real,” he murmurs. “I’m trying.”

And just like that, he straightens—and walks away.

You blink, stunned. The map still in your hands.

And then the questions come.

“What the HELL just happened?!” Seamus blurts.

“Did he—was that—WAS THAT A STAR MAP?” Dean chokes.

“He gave you a gift?” Ginny stares, eyes wide. “Did we slip into an alternate universe?”

“Are you two… are you talking again?” Hermione whispers.

Fred leans in with a dangerous grin. “Do we need to have a word with him?”

“Did he kiss you again?” Lavender asks, not even pretending to be subtle.

Neville frowns with gentle confusion. “He looked… different.”

You don’t say anything. You just slide the map into your bag and take a bite of your eggs, pretending not to smile when everyone keeps staring.

Then, across the hall—

At the Slytherin Table

Theodore slides back into his seat next to Mattheo, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just publicly walked across enemy lines.

The second he sits, Mattheo elbows him hard in the ribs.

“What. The fuck. Was that?” he hisses.

Draco’s jaw is practically on the floor. “You gave him a star chart? Have you lost your bloody mind?!”

Pansy leans across the table with a devilish glint. “Was it enchanted? Wait—did you write little notes?” she gasps. “Oh my god, you wrote little notes.”

“Was this some kind of poetic grand gesture?” Astoria snorts. “Who are you?”

Blaise raises a brow. “You’re smiling like an idiot. I don’t like it.”

Theodore leans back in his chair, stretching casually, completely unfazed.

“I like him,” he says simply.

The table explodes.

“YOU—WHAT?!”

“You can’t just like him, Theo!” Mattheo says, dragging a hand down his face.

“That wasn’t the deal!” Draco mutters.

“The deal’s off,” Theodore replies, calm, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I fucked up. I’m fixing it.”

Pansy stares at him, stunned. “You really mean it.”

Theodore gives a slow, lopsided grin as he steals a piece of toast off Blaise’s plate.

“I do.”

And far away, at the Gryffindor table, you glance over your shoulder—

And catch him looking at you.

This time, you don’t look away.

────────────────

After Charms Class

The corridor spills open with students pouring out like water—laughing, groaning about homework, some still half-asleep from Professor Flitwick’s monotonous lecture.

You’re one of the last to leave, your bag slung lazily over your shoulder, your feet dragging just slightly.

You don’t expect anyone to be there.

But he is.

Theodore stands across the hallway, leaning casually against the wall, his hands in his pockets, tie still slightly crooked despite the morning’s neatness. When his eyes find yours, something in them softens—like it always does now.

You raise an eyebrow. “Waiting for someone?”

He shrugs, walking toward you with an easy pace. “Yeah. You.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile pulling at your lips betrays you. “Bit clingy for someone who dumped me in front of the whole school.”

“Making up for lost time,” he replies without missing a beat.

You huff a quiet laugh, brushing past him as you walk down the corridor. He falls into step beside you, shoulders brushing lightly.

It’s… natural.

Surreal, but natural.

From behind you, soft footsteps falter. Then you hear it.

“Was that Theodore Nott?”

You glance back—just slightly.

Cedric Diggory is standing by the archway with a few of his Hufflepuff friends. All of them are watching the two of you like you’ve grown second heads.

“Wait—are they… talking?” someone whispers.

Cedric tilts his head. “I thought they weren’t even speaking anymore?”

“I thought he hated Nott,” another mutters, clearly confused. “Didn’t he cry for a week straight after—?”

“Shh!” Cedric cuts in, nudging his friend with his elbow. “Look at his face.”

You don’t hear the rest.

But if you had, you would’ve caught Cedric’s small, hopeful smile and his quiet murmur.

“Good. He’s smiling again.”

You and Theodore keep walking, unaware of the stares behind you.

Neither of you speaks. You don’t need to.

The silence between you now is different—comforting, not empty.

When your fingers brush his, neither of you flinch away.

And just for a moment, it feels like the stars might be aligning again.

────────────────

The library has never been this quiet.

And it’s not the usual kind of quiet—the strict, uptight silence enforced by Madam Pince’s hawk eyes. This silence is gentle. Comfortable. Laced with warmth and slow breaths and pages turning softly under candlelight.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor in the Astronomy section, surrounded by open books and star charts, fingers trailing along hand-drawn constellations. The tower windows are misted with fog, the evening sun just barely casting golden streaks across the floor.

Theodore sits beside you. Not too close. Not too far.

The distance between you is filled with unsaid things—but it’s softer now. No longer heavy. No longer laced with betrayal.

You don’t talk much.

And yet, he keeps passing you books. Ones he found on your favorite stars. One with a fold-out map of lunar phases. Another annotated with old notes in your handwriting—he must’ve borrowed it from your side of the shelf.

He says nothing.

You say nothing.

But when your fingertips brush as he passes you a book, and he doesn’t flinch—

You feel something shift.

Like stardust settling.

Like gravity pulling you toward him again.

────────────────

Later that night.

It’s past curfew when you sneak out to the Astronomy Tower.

Again.

But you’re not surprised when you hear footsteps behind you halfway up the spiral staircase.

“You’re predictable,” Theodore says softly.

“So are you,” you mutter, not turning around.

When you step onto the tower platform, the night air kisses your cheeks and the stars blink patiently overhead.

You sit. He follows.

You both lean back against the stone railing, knees pulled to your chests, gazes lifted skyward.

The silence stretches—but it’s never awkward anymore. Not with the stars watching.

“You know,” you whisper eventually, “when I was younger, I used to think stars were the souls of people who died.”

Theodore turns to look at you, intrigued.

“I thought the brighter ones were people who left behind love,” you continue. “The dimmer ones… left pain.”

“And what about the ones that flicker?”

You glance sideways at him.

“Those are the ones who regret things.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

But he moves closer.

Just an inch.

Then another.

Until your shoulders touch.

He reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out something wrapped in a handkerchief, and silently places it in your hands.

You unwrap it slowly.

It’s a tiny brass telescope.

Old, a little rusty, clearly secondhand—but beautifully cared for.

“Found it in Hogsmeade,” he murmurs. “Figured you’d like it.”

You stare at it for a second—then up at him.

Theodore’s not looking at you. He’s staring straight ahead, jaw clenched like he’s afraid of your reaction.

“I love it,” you say, voice quieter than the wind.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours.

Three Days Later — The Moment

It happens in the library again.

Theodore sits beside you with a cup of tea he smuggled in, sugar, no milk—just the way you like it, while you flip through a book on star clusters.

There’s a footnote in the corner of one page, faded and scribbled in messy ink.

'That one looks like a bowtie.'

'It’s a nebula, Theo.'

'Whatever. Bowtie.'

You snort softly.

Then you giggle.

Then—before you know it—you’re laughing.

Not the fake kind. Not bitter or tired or forced.

Real.

Bright.

Sharp.

Alive.

Theodore’s head snaps up like he can’t believe it.

Your laugh echoes through the aisles, bouncing off the shelves, cutting through the heavy quiet that’s followed you for weeks.

And it feels like breathing for the first time.

He’s just staring at you, lips parted, eyes wide.

You freeze mid-laugh. “What?”

He shakes his head slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he whispers.

And for once, you don’t shrink away.

You just smile—soft, small.

Still healing.

But smiling.

────────────────

Later That Evening — Back at the Tower

You stargaze together again. This time, lying side by side on an old blanket Theodore transfigured out of his robe.

He lets you talk again—about planets and black holes and why Betelgeuse is your favorite star name. He hums at all the right moments. He even repeats some of the facts back to you later, like he’s actually memorizing them just to impress you.

“You know,” he says after a while, voice barely above a whisper, “I think I used to be a flickering star.”

You glance over at him.

He meets your eyes.

“But now… I think I’m starting to burn brighter.”

You stare at him.

And for the first time in weeks—months, maybe—

You reach out.

And lace your fingers with his.

No words. No promises.

Just light.

And warmth.

And the slow return of something that feels like hope.

It began with a smile.

Not a grand one. Not the radiant grin you were once known for. Just a small, fragile curve of your lips when Neville offered you a piece of chocolate during Herbology and told you, “You don’t have to be okay yet. But… we missed you.”

You smiled.

And it cracked something open.

The next day, you nodded at Nearly Headless Nick as he passed by in the corridor. He paused midair, looked back in astonishment, and whispered, “Welcome back, dear boy…”

On your way to the Astronomy Tower that night, you waved at the Fat Lady.

She gasped.

“Oh!” she said, clutching her pearls. “My darling! You’ve returned!”

────────────────

Then a laugh.

Just one.

You didn’t even notice it at first.

It slipped out of your throat during Charms class when Seamus accidentally enchanted his quill to start tap dancing on the table. You were scribbling notes when it happened, and the sound caught you so off guard—you laughed.

Bright. Clear. Unapologetic.

And the whole class turned to look at you.

Eyes wide.

Seamus froze. Lavender gasped. Professor Flitwick dropped his chalk. Hermione covered her mouth, and even Harry and Ron stared like they’d seen a ghost.

And then Harry smiled.

“Merlin,” Ron whispered, stunned. “He’s really laughing.”

You blinked, confused. “...What?”

Hermione’s voice cracked when she spoke. “You’re laughing, Y/N.”

And that’s when you realized…

You were.

And for the first time in weeks, it felt real.

────────────────

From that moment, it was like the floodgates opened.

Suddenly, you weren’t just alive.

You were present.

You started waving to portraits again—the Fat Lady practically shrieked in delight when you greeted her one morning with a bright “Hello, love!”

You helped a pair of nervous first-years find their Herbology class and walked them all the way there, smiling the whole time.

You enchanted a Hufflepuff’s broken quill so it would write smoother.

You gave Luna your last chocolate frog because “The stars say you’ll need something sweet today.”

You told Professor Sinistra she looked radiant under moonlight after an evening class, and she turned to hide the way her face flushed.

You were back.

And everyone felt it.

The air in Hogwarts had changed.

The silence that had haunted the castle for weeks—the hole that your absence had created—was slowly, sweetly, joyfully filling back up with you.

────────────────

By the end of the week, the entire school was buzzing.

“Did you hear him laughing again today?”

“He helped a fifth-year with their Transfiguration without being asked.”

“He waved at every portrait on the third floor—EVEN the one that hates Gryffindors!”

“He complimented Snape’s robes, I swear to Merlin, and Snape didn’t even insult him back—just blinked.”

“It’s like Hogwarts is breathing again.”

────────────────

It wasn’t just your house that noticed.

The professors did too. Professor Sprout nearly cried when you complimented her newest Devil’s Snare. Flitwick paused mid-lecture to smile at you when you corrected a charm with your usual, “Only if you want to avoid spontaneous explosions.”

You returned to the front row in Astronomy class, hand flying up at every question, excitedly correcting Professor Sinistra with a “Well, actually, Betelgeuse’s diameter is over a thousand times that of our sun—”

She stopped. Blinked.

And smiled with tears in her eyes.

“…That’s absolutely right, Mr. L/N.”

────────────────

The Slytherins?

They noticed too.

They noticed everything.

The way the air shifted when you walked past. The way other students lit up like lanterns in your presence. The way your laugh—genuine, golden, infectious—echoed through the stone halls like it had never been gone.

And it haunted them.

Because they remembered.

They remembered how they laughed when Theodore dumped you in the Great Hall.

They remembered the way you stood frozen, the light draining from your eyes like the last flicker of a dying star.

They remembered what they took from you—and what they had cost Hogwarts itself.

They missed your ridiculous facts about galaxies over dinner.

They missed your voice humming on the Astronomy Tower wind.

They missed your jokes, your stories, the way you’d scold them gently if they cheated off someone else's parchment—“That’s not how learning works, darling.”

They missed you.

Astoria caught you laughing with Draco one day—just a small, harmless thing—and her stomach twisted in guilt.

Mattheo muttered under his breath, “We ruined him.”

Lorenzo couldn’t look you in the eye.

Even Blaise… apologized. To Theodore, at first. But eventually, with his eyes low, to you.

“I didn’t know we were breaking the sun,” he said.

You didn’t respond. But you smiled politely.

And that, somehow, was worse.

────────────────

You returned to Astronomy Tower like you never left it.

Blankets, books, starlight.

And Theodore.

He waited for you every night, letting you lead. Letting you be.

He brought snacks you liked. Held your hand when you let him. Sat silently through your excited rants about black holes and nova cycles and how Saturn’s rings might vanish someday.

He didn’t speak much.

He didn’t have to.

You felt him there.

One night, you caught him asleep under the stars, his head tilted slightly, lips parted in a breath.

And without thinking, you pulled out your Polaroid and snapped a picture.

The photo developed in your hands—soft, shadowed, perfect.

You laughed—quiet, heartfelt—for the first time in weeks.

────────────────

The whole castle rejoiced.

Peeves burst into spontaneous poems about you.

The Fat Lady played your favorite tune on her lute every time you passed.

House elves left your favorite desserts in the common room.

Even Snape stopped deducting points from Gryffindor every time you sneezed.

Students passed by you in the corridors just to wave.

Others slipped you folded notes.

'We missed your laugh.'

'Thank you for helping me with Potions last year.'

'Hogwarts is brighter with you in it.'

And one from a tiny second year.

'You're my favorite star!'

────────────────

But nothing hit harder than the moment it all clicked—when the entire school realized just how much they’d missed you.

It was a snowy afternoon.

You were in the courtyard, surrounded by a group of first-years who were trying and failing to make enchanted snowflakes that glittered mid-air. You crouched beside them, smile wide, showing them how to hold their wands steady and how to whisper the incantation with just the right breath.

“You don’t force it,” you said, guiding one small hand with your own. “You invite the magic.”

The snowflake burst from her wand—delicate, shimmering, perfect.

She squealed. The other kids cheered. And just like that—you laughed.

Loud.

Joyful.

Unburdened.

It echoed off the castle walls.

And nearly everyone nearby stopped.

Across the courtyard, Theodore looked up from where he stood under the arches. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even smile.

But his eyes lit up.

As if the stars had returned to the sky.

That night, you returned to the Astronomy Tower.

With Theodore beside you.

He let you ramble about Sirius and Rigel and the lifespan of red giants. He nodded, absorbing every word, even repeating one or two back when you forgot where you left off. He pulled his cloak tighter around your shoulders when the wind picked up and didn’t say a thing when you leaned against him—quiet, content, finally at peace.

And before either of you could fall asleep, you pulled out your old Polaroid camera and snapped a photo of him, eyes closed, mouth parted, asleep beneath the stars.

The camera clicked softly.

And you stared at the photo as it developed—Theodore’s face framed by constellations.

You smiled.

And whispered, “Perfect.”

The school was right.

Hogwarts had missed you.

Its portraits missed your daily waves. The ghosts missed your “good mornings.” The professors missed your endless questions. The halls missed the echo of your laughter. The students missed the quiet kindness you offered like it cost you nothing.

And now, with every word, every smile, every act of warmth—

They got it all back.

You weren’t just returning to yourself.

You were healing.

You were whole.

You were still the same boy who kissed stars into the air with his voice and brought life to even the coldest corners of the castle.

Y/N L/N—the boy who remembered every portrait’s name, who stayed after class to help clean cauldrons, who corrected professors gently and helped students kindly—Hogwarts’ brightest star—had returned.

BONUS SCENE.

The fire had burned low, crackling softly and casting flickering golden light across the Gryffindor common room floor.

It was well past curfew. The castle slept. But you didn’t.

You were curled on Theodore’s lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, face tucked into the crook of it like you were trying to mold yourself into him. His back was pressed against the base of the couch, legs stretched out across the floor. Your entire body was clinging to him—like if you let go, he’d slip away into smoke and shadows.

“You’re still worried I’ll vanish, huh?” he whispered, barely a breath.

You mumbled something incomprehensible into his neck. Maybe his name. Maybe “don’t leave.”

Theodore tightened his hold instantly.

“Not going anywhere,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss on top of your head. “I swear."

You sighed against his throat, finally shifting just enough to nuzzle deeper into the hollow of his shoulder. Your arms looped tighter. You were completely wrapped around him like he was gravity and you were scared of floating away.

And Theodore?

He’d sit like this forever if you wanted.

A sudden click echoed across the room.

He flinched slightly, just as a soft flash lit up the space.

You stirred groggily.

Theodore slowly turned his head—and there was Harry Potter, standing near the staircase, holding your beloved Polaroid camera like it was Excalibur. A smug grin was plastered on his face. Hermione stood beside him with both hands pressed to her mouth, visibly vibrating from the sheer adorableness of it all.

“Oh my Merlin,” she gasped in a whisper-shriek. “I can’t—it’s—it’s too precious!”

“Potter,” Theodore said flatly, not bothering to move. “Why do you have his camera?”

Harry just shrugged, shaking the developed photo between his fingers. “Maybe I borrowed it. Maybe I saw the two of you snuggling like sappy lovebirds and thought, this is going in the scrapbook.”

“Give me that—” Theodore reached, but Harry danced back, holding the picture out of reach.

“Too late. It’s canon now,” he grinned, backing toward the stairs.

Hermione lingered just a second longer, eyes soft, practically squealing. “He looks so safe with you,” she whispered. “Thank you, Theo.”

Theodore blinked. He wasn't used to people thanking him like that. Not fondly.

He looked down at you again—your lips slightly parted, your arms still clinging, one leg tucked around his waist as if to anchor yourself. Your hair was mussed. Your brow relaxed. You looked like you belonged there.

You did.

He ran his fingers through your hair again, slower this time.

"You're safe," he whispered, for you and for himself. "I’ve got you."

The fire crackled.

The camera whirred again—Harry, upstairs now, clearly taking another shot through the stair rails before disappearing upstairs with Ron and Hermione following him from behind, their laughs fading.

Theodore groaned but didn’t bother moving you. He just kissed your temple, rested his head back against the couch, and whispered.

“Sleep, starboy. Let them take their stupid photos. I’m not letting go.”

Not tonight.

Not ever.

He stayed like that.

All night.

Holding his brightest star.

[malfoysanctuary]

If Only You Knew

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: You were always Mattheo’s weakness, the one thing he could never seem to conquer—until now, when it might not even matter anymore. Because while he took too long to tell you, someone else has been whispering the words he never had the courage to say.

The Great Hall buzzed with its usual midday energy, students huddled together, some laughing, some half-asleep over their pumpkin juice. But Mattheo Riddle wasn’t paying attention to any of them. His dark eyes were fixed on you.

You sat at the Slytherin table, a soft laugh leaving your lips as Theodore Nott leaned in, whispering something in your ear. Whatever it was, it had you smiling—your real smile. The one that made Mattheo’s chest tighten in a way he hated to acknowledge.

His fingers curled into fists under the table.

It wasn’t as if he had the right to be jealous. He wasn’t yours. Not officially, not in the way he wanted. But Merlin, if he didn’t wish he had done something about it sooner.

“Mate, you keep looking at her like that, you’re going to set her on fire,” Enzo said beside him, smirking as he shoveled food onto his plate.

Mattheo barely heard him.

Because then you turned, your eyes catching his across the Great Hall. For the briefest moment, something flickered there, something he used to think was just for him. But then Theodore nudged you, reclaiming your attention, and just like that, the moment was gone.

And Mattheo knew.

He was running out of time.

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You and Mattheo had always been… complicated.

For as long as you could remember, he was there—brooding, teasing, aggravating. Always just close enough to make your heart trip over itself, but never close enough to call yours.

You used to think it was enough. That stolen moments, fleeting glances, and whispered conversations under the moonlight would eventually lead somewhere. But they never did. And now, with Theo standing beside you, fingers brushing against yours as he spoke in that quiet, knowing way of his, you wondered if you had just been a fool.

Mattheo had his chances. He had so many of them.

And yet, he had never said the words.

So why, after all this time, did he look at you like you were slipping through his fingers?

───────────────

"Tell me it’s not too late."

The party in the common room had long since dwindled, but you lingered by the fire, exhaustion settling into your bones. Theo had kissed your cheek before heading to bed, his eyes warm, understanding. He never pushed, never demanded anything of you.

Which was more than you could say for the boy standing behind you now.

“Y/n.”

Mattheo’s voice was rough, frayed at the edges. You didn’t turn immediately, but when you did, your breath hitched. He looked… wrecked. Shadows clung to his sharp cheekbones, his usually confident stance uncertain, hands stuffed in his pockets like he was trying to hold himself together.

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “What do you want, Mattheo?”

For a moment, he just stared at you. And then, he took a step closer.

“I want to know if I’ve lost you.”

Your stomach twisted. “You never had me.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not true.”

You shook your head, swallowing the ache in your throat. “You had every chance. Every single chance to say something, to—” You broke off, inhaling sharply. “And you never did.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, the words almost a whisper. “I was an idiot. I thought—” He let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his curls. “I thought you’d wait for me.”

Something in you cracked.

Wait for him?

You had waited. You had waited through every smirk, every lingering touch, every moment where it felt like he was on the verge of saying something real, only to pull back at the last second.

“I can’t be the only one fighting for this,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo’s gaze darkened. “You’re not.”

His hands found your waist, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to push him away. But you didn’t. Even now, with all the anger, the hurt, the ache of knowing he had waited too long, your body still reacted to his touch, melting into him like it had always belonged there.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, forehead pressing against yours. “But I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. Of Theo—” His breath hitched. “Of him getting to have you when I—”

“You what?” you challenged, voice trembling.

He swallowed hard. “When I love you.”

Your heart stuttered.

Mattheo Riddle—the boy who had spent years driving you mad, who had never once let his walls fully crack—was standing here, hands on your waist, saying the words you had waited so damn long to hear.

But was it too late?

Your throat tightened. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mattheo.”

Desperation flickered across his face. “Just tell me you still feel something.”

You closed your eyes.

Because that was the problem.

You still felt everything.

Because Mattheo Riddle was finally saying all the right words.

You just weren’t sure if they were enough.

You pulled away first.

It was barely a step, but it was enough to have Mattheo’s fingers twitching at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you, to anchor you back to him. But he didn’t. He just stood there, waiting—something you weren’t sure he had ever done before.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. “You don’t get to do this now.”

“Y/n—”

“No.” Your voice wavered, but you kept going. “You don’t get to act like you suddenly can’t live without me when for years, I wasn’t enough to make you stay. You had so many chances, Mattheo.” Your hands clenched at your sides, nails biting into your palms. “Do you know how many nights I spent wondering if you’d ever just say it?”

Regret flashed in his dark eyes. “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have waited until someone else was standing beside me to realize it.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Mattheo exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his curls. “You think I didn’t want to say it?” His voice was raw now, lower, edged with something that made your chest tighten. “You think I didn’t lie awake every night hating myself for keeping my mouth shut? I—” He broke off, jaw clenching. “You were the only thing I wanted, Y/n. But I was so fucking scared that if I said it out loud, I’d lose you.”

Your breath hitched.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I thought if I never said the words, you couldn’t leave.”

Something inside you cracked wide open. “So instead, you left me waiting.”

The truth hung between you, raw and bleeding.

Mattheo took a step closer, slow, hesitant. “Tell me what to do,” he murmured. “Tell me how to fix this.”

You let out a soft, bitter laugh. “You can’t just fix this with words, Mattheo.”

“Then tell me what to do,” he repeated, voice breaking at the edges. “Tell me how to prove to you that I won’t lose you again.”

You inhaled, the weight of everything pressing against your ribs.

And the worst part? You wanted to believe him. Because it was Mattheo. Because despite everything, he had always been the one person you could never seem to let go of.

But what if you let yourself fall—again—only for him to walk away when things got too real?

What if he broke you this time?

You shook your head, stepping back again. “I don’t know if you can.”

Mattheo’s expression twisted, his breathing uneven. But he didn’t argue. He didn’t beg. He just watched you with those dark, desperate eyes, as if he already knew he had finally run out of time.

You turned before you could change your mind, before your heart could convince you to stay, and walked away.

And Mattheo Riddle—who always got what he wanted—was left standing in the dim firelight, watching the only thing he had ever truly cared about slip through his fingers.

Again.

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Mattheo wasn’t handling this well.

In fact, he was handling this so badly that even Enzo and Draco—two people who had never hesitated to call him an idiot—were actively avoiding him.

He barely slept. Barely ate. Barely did anything besides replay that night in his head over and over again, trying to figure out the exact moment he had truly lost you.

At first, he thought you were just giving yourself space. That maybe you needed a few days before you’d come back to him. But then a week passed. Then two. And nothing.

No stolen glances. No lingering moments. Not even a single sarcastic remark thrown his way.

You were done.

And the worst part? You looked happy.

You smiled at Theo, you laughed at Pansy’s jokes, and when Mattheo walked into a room, you didn’t tense up or look away—you just… didn’t look at him at all.

Like he didn’t exist.

And it was killing him.

───────────────

“You’re miserable to be around.”

Mattheo scowled, glaring at Enzo, who had just shoved a book at his chest. “Fuck off.”

“I would, but you look two seconds away from setting the common room on fire, and frankly, I don’t want to die tonight.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes and slumped back against the couch, his head pounding. He hadn’t even realized how tense he was, how his hands were still curled into fists at his sides.

Enzo crossed his arms. “You need to do something, man. Either let her go or actually do something to get her back.”

Mattheo let out a low, humorless laugh. “She’s already gone.”

“Then make her not be.”

His jaw clenched.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? He had spent years waiting—waiting—for the perfect moment to tell you. And in the end, he had just waited himself right out of your life.

But no.

No.

He wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

So, he made you listen.

It started small. A lingering touch when he brushed past you in the hallways. A hushed “Morning, Y/n” when he passed your table in the Great Hall, even though you ignored him every single time.

But then it got worse.

Because Mattheo Riddle had never been good at subtlety.

He started showing up where he knew you’d be—outside the library, in the corridors between classes, at breakfast before you even got there, waiting, watching.

And you tried to act like you didn’t notice, like he wasn’t there.

But then one night, he snapped.

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It was late, the castle mostly empty, when he found you slipping out of the common room, probably heading for the Astronomy Tower. You barely made it past the door before his hand was wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/n, please.”

You inhaled sharply, looking down at where he touched you before slowly, carefully, pulling your arm away.

“What do you want, Mattheo?”

His throat bobbed. “You.”

Something flickered in your expression—something too fast for him to catch. Then you shook your head.

“You don’t get to say that now.”

“Why?” His voice was hoarse. “Because it took me too long? Because I fucked up?” He let out a breath, stepping closer. “You’re right, I did. I fucked up. I should have told you years ago. I should have never let you doubt for a second that I—” His voice cracked. “That I love you.”

You inhaled sharply, but your face stayed unreadable.

Mattheo ran a hand through his curls, his usual cocky confidence shattered. “I don’t know how to be good at this,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to say all the right things. But I know what I feel, and I know that the idea of you with anyone else makes me fucking insane.” His voice dropped, raw and aching. “But the idea of losing you completely? That kills me, Y/n.”

Your lips parted, but you didn’t say anything.

For the first time, Mattheo felt helpless. Because this wasn’t something he could fight his way out of, wasn’t something he could win just by wanting it badly enough.

This was you.

And you had all the power now.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he whispered. “But I’m asking for one anyway.”

The silence stretched, suffocating.

And then—finally—you spoke.

“Prove it.”

Mattheo’s breath caught. “How?”

You tilted your chin up, eyes steady, unyielding. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if you really want this, if you really want me, then you’ll figure it out.”

And with that, you turned and walked away.

But this time, Mattheo didn’t let the moment slip through his fingers.

Because this time, he was going to prove to you that he wasn’t just saying the right words—

He was finally ready to mean them.

───────────────

Mattheo Riddle didn’t know how to grovel.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to bring you flowers or write you love letters. He wasn’t soft, wasn’t the kind of person who laid his feelings bare for the world to see. But for you?

For you, he would figure it out.

Because you had told him to prove it.

So he would.

Step One: Show Up.

Mattheo had spent years standing on the sidelines of his own feelings, watching, waiting, always assuming he had more time. But not anymore.

Now, he was there. Everywhere.

You didn’t make it easy for him.

You ignored him in the halls. You turned away when he walked into a room. You pretended not to notice when he waited for you after class, leaning against the stone walls like it was effortless—like he wasn’t two seconds away from begging you to just look at him.

But Mattheo was nothing if not stubborn.

So he kept showing up.

And eventually, you stopped pretending you didn’t notice.

Step Two: Say It. Mean It. Make It Unmistakable.

The night he told you how he felt, you had said something that had kept him up at night.

"You can’t just fix this with words, Mattheo."

And maybe you were right.

But that didn’t mean he was going to stop saying them.

“You look beautiful today.” “Did you sleep well?” “I miss you.”

They were small things, quiet words murmured in passing, but he meant every single one. And when you finally—finally—let yourself meet his eyes one day in the Great Hall, something in his chest thundered.

Because there it was.

That flicker of something, that maybe.

And he would take it.

Step Three: Don’t Let Go.

The turning point came on a cold, rainy night.

You were coming back from the library, arms full of books, looking exhausted. And Mattheo? He had been waiting outside the common room for hours, hoping—praying—you’d talk to him.

And then you dropped your books.

A low curse left your lips as parchment scattered across the floor. Before you could kneel to grab them, Mattheo was already there, gathering them into a messy pile.

You stared at him, frozen.

He swallowed hard, holding the books out to you. “Here.”

You didn’t take them. Not immediately. Your fingers twitched, your lips parting, like there was something you wanted to say but weren’t sure if you should.

And then, finally—finally—you sighed.

“Why are you still trying?”

Mattheo exhaled slowly, his hands tightening around the books. “Because I love you.”

Your breath hitched.

He wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t smirking. Wasn’t trying to charm his way out of this.

He was just looking at you, pleading, his voice raw. “Because I don’t want to spend another second pretending like I don’t.”

You swallowed. “Mattheo…”

“I know I messed up.” He took a step closer. “I know I took too long. I know I hurt you, and I will spend every day proving to you that I won’t do it again.” His voice softened, but the desperation still bled through. “Just… tell me I still have a chance.”

The hallway was silent except for the crackling of the torches and the rain tapping against the windows.

Then—so quietly he almost didn’t hear it—you whispered, “You do.”

Something in Mattheo’s chest cracked wide open.

And then your hands were on his.

Fingers curling over his knuckles, warm, solid, real.

His breath stuttered as you took the books from his grip and, instead of stepping away, you stayed there. Right in front of him.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then you inhaled deeply. “You have to mean it, Mattheo.”

“I do,” he promised, voice fierce.

You held his gaze for a long, torturous moment—then, so softly he thought he imagined it, you whispered, “Okay.”

And for the first time in years, Mattheo let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t lost you after all.

Step Four: Love Her.

The first time you let him touch you again—really touch you—was on a quiet evening in the Astronomy Tower.

You had been sitting beside him, the two of you bathed in silver moonlight, your head tipped back as you looked at the stars.

And then, slowly, carefully, you reached for his hand.

Fingers sliding between his, warm and steady.

Mattheo swore he stopped breathing.

Because it wasn’t just a touch.

It was a promise.

And when you turned to look at him, eyes soft, lips curling in the smallest, most devastating smile—he knew.

He had finally done it.

He had finally gotten you.

And this time, he wasn’t letting go.

[cruel-seduction]

Blurb (Werewolf Theodore Nott)

Theodore Nott was already bleeding out when you found him—a half-shifted, feral thing, eyes burning amber, body torn apart from whatever hell he’d barely survived.

As a healer, you knew the rules.

Never help a dying werewolf.

Never get close enough for them to smell you.

Never, ever touch them when they’re in that cursed state between man and beast.

But you? You were stupid.

You dropped to your knees. Pressed your trembling hands to his open wounds. Whispered ancient incantations even as his breath came in ragged, uneven snarls. Even as his golden gaze flickered up—fixing on you.

And in return?

He bit you.

Not hard enough to turn you. Just hard enough to mark you. To stain your scent with his, embedding himself into your very being.

You feel it first in the days after—the pull, a deep, restless ache beneath your skin, a tingling awareness that never leaves. Then, the whispers start. A voice at the edges of your mind, curling around your thoughts, dark and hungry.

You lock your doors at night. Close the windows. Try to pretend you can’t feel him watching.

But on the night of the first full moon?

You wake up to find him inside your bedroom.

He’s stretched across your bed, sprawled out like he belongs there—like he’s been waiting for you, starving for you. His shirt is gone, moonlight painting the sharp ridges of his torso, his golden eyes smoldering as they drink you in.

You don’t know how he got in.

You don’t know why you’re wet before he’s even touched you.

Not until he breathes you in. Not until his lips curve into a slow, wicked smirk.

"Mine."

The word is a growl, dark and final, reverberating through your bones.

You scramble back—wrong choice.

He moves before you can react, his body covering yours, trapping you beneath heat and muscle and something otherworldly. His nose brushes along your throat, his tongue flicking out to taste the pulse hammering there, and that’s when you realize something worse than the bite.

It wasn’t just a claim.

It was a bond.

A tether tying you to him. Forcing you to ache for him just as much as he aches for you.

And the worst part?

You want it.

Want the sharp sting of his teeth. The rough drag of his tongue. The way his hands shake as he forces himself to be gentle—to wait, to hold back, to not ruin you even though everything in him is screaming to do just that.

He does.

He devours you.

Werewolf au || Masterlist

[beegomess]

Imagines and Headcanons || Slytherin Boys

Transporting you to the Harry Potter universe, where you interact exclusively with the cunning and enigmatic Slytherin boys.

Link to the Portuguese version on Wattpad

Requests are open✨🫶🏼

Obscenities will be with *

⊹˚₊‧ 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ‧₊˚⊹

How others see you as a couple What is your relationship like? Their care of you seck They dreming about you* Meeting you after the breaking up They are your brother's best friend Your marriage with them Song that represents your relationship - Lana's Version Your honeymoon

⊹˚₊‧ 𝑰𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 ‧₊˚⊹

Blaise Zabini Fuck, I love everything about you*

Draco Malfoy coming soon

Lorenzo Berkshire Heated libraries* I can love you even in the dark

Mattheo Riddle She’s like me. I would die for her... I would kill for her* Tell your baby that i’m your baby In how many ways can you love him? Real love baby Is your father at home?* Take me back to the night we met

Theodore Nott Profane girl* Platonic loves I know I'll love you Are we bad for that? Summer wine* Can you be my sister?

Tom Riddle The girl who came from hell Loving you forever Do you know her? 'Cause I'm addicted In the shadow of power The devil knows exactly what you want

Random Imagines || Other characters

Dark Paradise || Theodore Nott

Link to the Portuguese version on Wattpad

Summary: Since they met, Y/N Malfoy and Theodore Nott have always been in the same social circles, but they were never close. Theodore, Draco's discreet friend who was always present at formal events, maintained an air of mystery that sparked Y/N's interest. At parties filled with alcohol and cigarettes, their conversations stood out for their depth and sincerity, revealing a sensitive and complex side of Theodore, different from the reserved image he presented to others.

As their interactions intensified, Y/N and Theodore began to understand each other in a unique way, sharing dilemmas and dreams. Their meetings, often under the moonlight or in libraries, became a journey of self-discovery and love. However, their emerging feelings faced challenges imposed by society and their own insecurities. Involved in a budding romance, they had to decide if they were willing to risk everything for this bond that flourished in the shadows.

Theodore Nott x Y/N Malfoy

Published chapters:

Prologue 01. Invisible Flirts 02. Childhood Crushes 03. Boy, you wanna come to my hotel, honey? 04. Swan Lake 05. How deep is your love? 06. Eyes on fire 07. Hidden Desires 08. Merry Crhistmas, Teddy 09. Scape 10. Sweet Dreams 11. Hints of jealousy 12. Dark days 13. Unexpected letters 14. Dances and feelings 15. Your halo’s full of fire 16. Friends come before boys 17. How'd it get so scandalous? 18. Holidays, Letters and Passions 19. Birthday gifts 20. Polaroids 21. Somebody's watching me 22. You drive me wild

[cravingcoldoreocake123]

Silence between songs-Theodore Nott

Summary: You toss and turn in bed, sleep hovering out of reach. You decide to leave the dorms and take a walk late at night, your path crosses Theo’s as he was smoking outside. Your words dance between humor and vulnerability beneath the stars.

TW: Fluff, suggestive content, smoking.

I toss and turn in my bed, my eyelids burnt with sleep but I couldn’t bring myself to doze off no matter how tightly I wrapped the warm blanket around me, sleep just hovered out of reach. My mind wouldn’t quiet- thoughts unraveling and tangling again, looping endlessly. After what felt like hours of restless tossing, I give up, the sheets suddenly felt itchy and too heavy for my liking, I sit up stretching my arm towards my phone on my night dresser, a soft pop following.

I let out a quiet whine and squinted my eyes at the light of the cracked screen illuminating my face, the clock marking 2:30 AM. Mentally sighing at all the early classes I’m obligated to attend in a few hours. I put the phone down and turned to my side, putting an extra pillow between my thighs, getting in a comfortable position and hopefully- eventuallly fall asleep.

Nope.

I slipped out of bed, the floor cool beneath my feet, and pulled on a thin cotton hoodie. My head spun around in all directions making sure no one is awake. I quietly opened the door and peeked my head out, the corridor unnervingly empty as I stepped outside, closing the door behind me as softly as I could and started walking, letting the quiet of the night press against me, hoping that maybe the darkness would untangle what I couldn’t.

The castle seemed otherworldly at this time of night, almost haunted or abandoned, the absence of loud students left the corridors hollow, echoing with the distant hum of forgotten sounds. A stillness that feels almost dystopian, yet oddly serene. and it looked even more breathtaking during the night than the morning. I hurriedly walked to a spot I’m familiar with; south of the castle, giving me an ethereal view of the great lake.

I patted the grass making sure it was completely dry before sitting down. My lungs expanded with air as I fluttered my eyes shut. It was crisp and pure, untouched by the weight of the day. I brought my knees to my chest, using them to prop my chin on as I continued to admire the night. The lake shimmered beneath the pale moonlight, its glassy surface fractured only by the soft stir of the air. Mist hovered like ghostly breath above the water, silver threads unraveling into the dark. At that moment felt as if I was the only person that existed, and everyone else had vanished into thin air. That feeling was short lived as I heard a sudden rustling behind me, my head snapping to the direction of the sound.

A tall figure stood in the distance, a face I couldn’t quite distinguish the features of due to the darkness. I sat frozen underneath the dim haze of the moonlight, my gaze fixated on the dark silhouette as my heart pounded and my mind raced with excuses to save myself from trouble, assuming it was a professor. The figure seemed like a shadow cut from the night itself- dark and still, my eyebrows furrowed at the smoke that curled around it like ghostly ribbons, then he pushed himself off the wall and stepped into the light, the world softened around him.

His head fell back softly as his lips formed an ‘o’ blowing smoke out of his mouth, dark eyes catching the faint gleam of the stars above. His face was sharp yet impossibly gentle, and a quiet intensity radiated from him, not threatening but rather comforting, like the hush before dawn. He brought his gaze down, locking eyes with me, and I suddenly felt the hairs on my body stand up at his energy. His soft brown hair fell over his forehead as his hand lifted the cigarette to his mouth again, the ember flickering briefly before he smiled- a subtle, knowing curve of his mouth. He walked towards me with such effortless grace, stopping right next to where I sat.

My neck cranking up at him, studying his face. “Mind if I sit?” He asked, and my brows slightly furrowed with confusion. “No.” I hesitantly said before bringing up a hand to tuck some stray hairs behind my ear. He crouches down plopping right next to me, I watched his face as he did so, softly flicking his cigarette to let the ash fall down on the grass before he took another drag. The smoke lingered in his mouth for a little before turning his face the opposite way to blow it out.

His left leg was extended on the grass while he mimicked my pose with the other one. I fiddled with my hands in my lap as I scrunched my nose at the coppery smell of the smoke, choking my breath with an acrid burning. He notices and takes the cigarette out of his mouth, flicking it to the ground and stomping on it. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking at me. “Yeah, the smell just bothers me a bit.” I answered, feeling vulnerable next to him. “I apologize.” He said, before reaching his hand to pluck a small flower off the ground. His sight fixated on it for a few seconds, then he handed it to me. “Here, consider this a token of my apology, it smells better than the cigarette.” He smiled.

My hand slowly reached to his, our fingers grazing as I took the flower in my own, and brought it up to my nose, closing my eyes and taking a whiff of its ambrosial scent. He continued to look at me and softly smiled when I looked back at him. “What?” I asked, amusement entangling my tone. “Nothing.” He said, shaking his head and averting his sight to the lake in front of us. “I’ve never encountered someone else here at this time of night.” He quietly spoke. “I couldn’t sleep.” I responded.“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked. “Sure.” I pondered before answering. His face slightly fell, as I looked back at him “Oh, I don’t actually have a penny.” He disappointedly said. “What, didn’t think I’d say yes?” I asked, smirking. “Didn’t really think that one through.” The stranger responded, laughing at himself.

“And you thought it was a good idea coming out here instead, all alone?” He asked, turning to me and resting his chin on his hand. I let my eyes fall on every feature on his face before answering him. “Did you?” I said. He kept quiet for a brief moment before cracking a contagious little smile at me.

“You’re in Snape’s class, correct?” I nod my head affirmatively at his question, realizing I never paid enough attention to the people I shared my class with, always arriving groggy to his sessions, being the first one to gather their stuff and head out the door as soon as he dismissed us. “You didn’t answer my question.” I said, looking straight ahead of me, admiring the ethereal beauty of the view. “What?” He asked, shifting his position. “Did you think it was a good idea? You sneaking out here all alone, i mean?” I ask again, turning to lock eyes with him. “I take my chances.” He spoke. “So do I.” I shot back. He smirked, not breaking eye contact, and dusted his hand on his jeans before extending it towards me. “I’m Theo.”

The skin on his hand felt rough to the touch but warm and comforting all together, and I averted my sight from it up to his eyes as our hands touched for longer than they should have. My lips curling up in a soft smile as I let my hand fall on my lap again, my body abruptly shuddering at the sudden drop of temperature, and Theo seemed to notice as he swiftly took off his black leather jacket. “Here, this’ll keep you warm.” he said, inching closer to me and draping it on my shoulders, our faces coming dangerously close. He let it fall on my body with a small thud of its fabric, and didn’t let his face inch back for another few seconds, looking at mine as if it’s the last time he’d get the chance to look at it, studying it and memorizing each freckle and scar on my skin. His scent engulfed me, laced with white musk, spearmint and a faint bittersweet smell of cigarettes.

On cue, my phone buzzes loudly with a low battery notification and snapd us back to reality. I hurriedly grab it, silencing it in annoyance. My headphones still connected to it, all tangled up, and my hands subconsciously flew to them in an attempt to detangle them, growing impatient as they somehow seemed to tangle even more than before. He quietly observed me before speaking up, “Let me help you.” His hands fell on my lap, grabbing my phone and detangling the cords. His presence was effortless, like he belonged to the night itself. He handed me an earphone while putting the other one in his ear- “Here, pick something good.” He said, a playful smirk curving his mouth. His voice was low, threaded with quiet amusement, but his eyes were warm, steady. I scrolled through my playlist, and as the music hummed between us, I fell back onto the grass, “What are you doing?” Theo giggled over the music. “Stargazing.” I simply said, before speaking again, “Come on, Orion’s Belt is visible tonight. Lay down, I’ll show you.”

He let his back rest on the grass next to me, our shoulders brushing. I let myself sneak little peaks of his face here and there, hoping he wouldn’t notice. His skin looked divine underneath the moonlight- his face sculpted by angels, I wondered how I had never noticed him before, he was strikingly beautiful, the type to haunt you for weeks after just gazing at him. For a while, we just watched the sky breathe, and he let me eat his ear off rambling about numerous stars and constellations. “You seem to love astronomy.” He softly said, looking at me. “No way! How’d you know that?” I sarcastically said, earning a laugh from him. “I don’t know, just a wild guess.” He said. “I just think it’s interesting. An infinite number of planets and galaxies yet we’re the only ones known to exist. It’s so lonely, but so beautiful.” I sighed, the soft glow of the stars illuminating my skin. “Yes, it is.” He said as he looked at me intently for a minute, then slowly turned his attention back to the sky above.

I found strange comfort in his presence. His breathing could still be heard over the music, and it soothed me. It was as if we were the only ones alive at that moment.

Then, without warning, he turned his head toward me, his gaze flicking between my eyes and my mouth. “I was hoping you’d pick a better song,” he teased, but before I could respond, his hand slowly brushed my cheek, and he dipped his head down to mine, looking at me for confirmation- to which I slightly nodded, and he wasted no time to capture my lips in a gentle yet certain kiss. The taste of spearmint and cigarettes faintly lingered on his lips, fogging my mind. He was dangerously addictive, his fingers threading through my hair as he pulled me closer, like he couldn’t bear the distance between us for a second longer, earning a low whimper from me. “Don’t let the whole castle know now, will you darling?” He jokingly said. I felt empty and needy at the abrupt lack of touch, and snaked my arms around his neck, impatiently kissing him again.

His lips crashed against mine, hungry and desperate, yet somehow achingly gentle. My hands found his chest, then slid up to his shoulders, while he sneaked his under my shirt, resting it on the dip of my waist. His skin felt cold on mine, grounding me even as everything else spun. The kiss was heat and softness all at once — a quiet breath tangled with urgency, his mouth moving over mine like he was tasting something he’d been craving for far too long. And still, beneath the fire, there was a tenderness — a quiet promise in the way his fingers pressed into my skin, holding me like I was something precious.

We pulled back from each other, nothing but the sounds of our breathing being heard. My heart still raced while he let his thumb run along the supple skin of my jaw. He dragged his finger down to my neck, sliding it down the center of my chest, stopping at the waistband of my pants, slightly tugging on it. I subconsciously inched my face closer to his, craving his touch. “You’re really beautiful. Too pretty for me to ruin you right here, anyone can pass by and see just how much of a good girl you can be.” He whispered. My eyebrows furrowed in arousal at his words, “please”, I pleaded.

He turned to lay on his back grabbing my phone, unlocking it with a swift slide of his finger, and dialing his number before saving it as ‘Theo’. “Call me next time you have trouble sleeping, yeah?”

Part 2?

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part five of five (and 1/2 🤫)

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it. after your failed attempt, wounds need mending and your brother a slap on the wrist.

↬ sfw; hurt/comfort; wc: 5.6k; cw: suggestive, self-deprecating thoughts; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor! reader

( masterlist )

The courtyard was silent except for the whisper of the wind rustling through the tree branches. The faint moonlight casted long, skeletal shadows across the stone. If Filch turned up now, you didn't think you’d have it in you to even hide. You sat hunched over on a cold stone bench, arms wrapped tightly around yourself against the cool night air. The tears finally slowed, leaving your face damp and your chest aching.

The weight of your brother's words still clung to you like nasty glue, tenacious and heavy, each accusation replaying in your mind over and over again, like a taunt. You weren't naive. You were capable of thinking and deciding for yourself. Or were you? You think he cares about you? you heard Harry's voice echo in your mind. But of course he did. Pulling your legs to your chest and resting your chin onto your knees, you rocked slightly in an effort to calm yourself. Theo liked you. It wasn't impossible. There was something lovable about you, there had to be.

You’d have never doubted Theo, but you began to doubt yourself. Had you been deceiving him into thinking you were desirable by being Harry's sister? There is more to you than just that, a tiny advocate for yourself tried to argue, but the devil on your shoulder shut him up. Was there any other explanation for Theo to be interested in you, than that he saw something in you that you weren't? Frustrated by yourself, you wiped at your cheeks, but fresh tears started to spill and you buried your face in your hands, bundled up against the cold.

Of course Theo liked you. But Harry's words elicited thoughts of doubt in you, a doubt you’d always had and was hard to quell, a doubt that Theo had almost dispersed but now hit you with full force. You weren’t sure if you were angrier at Harry for saying them or at yourself for letting them get to you. Not that he had meant it like that. Harry would never suggest you weren't good enough for Theo, he’d have it the other way around. That Theo had deceived you, tricked you, used you. As if he were the only one with a mind, as if you were a child.

The chill seeped through your robes, but you didn't move, staring at the ground where your tears had dotted the frost-covered cobblestones. The quiet should have been comforting, but instead, it only made you feel smaller, like the world itself had chosen to remind you just how much you didn't belong- not here, not with Theo, not anywhere. You looked anywhere but at the courtyard entrance, maybe because an unconscious part of your mind knew that somebody would come eventually. And that somebody was Theo.

Theo didn't hate much. That may surprise some, but he found disdain to be much more civil and controlled, and therefore elegant. Outright hate was something uncontrollable, overwhelming the most conscious of human spirits with a rage far beyond what they could grasp or deal with. It was the same with violence. Theo preferred measured, unemotional violence before the messy raging of the likes of Mattheo. But Theo couldn't deny it as he watched your lone figure, curled up on the stone bench. He hated to see you cry, and he wanted to inflict as much pain as possible onto your brother.

But he couldn't hurt your brother (seriously), you’d be upset. And he couldn't walk over to you to still your tears, because his feet seemed to be glued to the ground. Even from afar, he could hear your sniffling, it was carried to him like a secret by the cool night breeze. Shaking like a leaf, you seemed to hide your face in your hands. Something intense stirred in his chest, seized his insides in a hard grip. He should've been more vigilant, he should've ensured you could reveal the secret in your own terms. He should've looked out for his girl, and he’d failed.

“Theo?”

Your soft voice penetrated the cloudy mist of self loathing that had consumed his thoughts. A small light, an irrestible pull. Theo raised his head from the cobblestones to you. Still sitting on the bench, you had untangled your limbs and taken your face out of your hands. Your glossy eyes reflected the moonlight, it illuminated the trail your tears had left on your cheeks and again, a wave of emotion was stilled by impotence.

Your brows furrowed doubtfully and Theo considered how he must look on the outside, to you. Stone faced, jaw clenched, straight as an arrow, tense. It wasn't an easy feat to soften his features when the raging desire to kill your brother, his worry and his self-reproach battled for stewardship. Shamefully, he had to admit to the urge to flee he felt, from you, from what you brought forth in him, made him feel. He wasn't cut out for this.

You could sense Theo’s hesitance and immediately felt self-conscious. But before you could decide how to approach him, he pushed himself off the pillar he’d been leaning on and walked towards your bench. You watched his steps carefully. There was something mesmerizing about watching Theo walk. Maybe it was the elegance of his steps, the way he always seemed to know where to go and approached his target without hesitation. Theo would not be caught slouching or walking aimlessly. Right now, you seemed to be the aim, which calmed you a bit.

Your eyes got captured by the reflection of the moonlight on the cobblestone, or maybe you were just avoiding his knowing eyes, as he sat down next to you and left a few inches of space for you, though that meant he was pressed into the corner of the bench, sitting on its edge awkwardly. Burying your fingers in your thighs, you inhaled an intake of breath to apologize, but- “Forgive me, tesoro,” Theo's voice sounded quietly through the silence of the courtyard.

You turned to him, surprised. “Forgive you? What would you have to ask forgiveness for? I’m the one who was reckless and it's because of me Harry said all those awful things about you and then I left you standing there-” you rambled on and wrung your hands desperately. Tears stung in the corners of your eyes but you pushed them down, you didn't want to worry him, you’d already done enough.

Theo couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that you were the one apologizing, that you blamed yourself about what your brother had accused him off. How much you cared about him, that this had been troubling you. A thousand replies, arguments, explanations bombarded his tongue, but he commanded it to silence to sort them. Because he had to make sure you didn't blame yourself- and that you believed him in his love for you.

He moved his arms slowly and deliberately, to give you the chance to back away, shrug them off or ignore them. Instead, you recognized them and threw yourself into his hold, hiding your face in his chest. With a new add of displeasure, Theo noted that your hands and face were ice cold. No wonder you were shivering. “Don't you dare be sorry,” Theo told you, but all harshness had left him as he held your shivering figure. “Don't you dare apologize to me. I couldn't care less what your brother,” he couldn't help the malice in his tone when he mentioned him, “thinks of me. But you do.”

When you raised your head from his chest to protest, you didn't care what Harry thought about Theo, Theo cupped it tenderly. Though he didn't wear a smile, it was as if his hard features had melted and he looked at you with the utmost gentleness. “He’s your brother. And anyways, that wasn't really what I meant.” His thumb brushed over your cold cheek and wiped at the remains of frozen tears. “You care what he thinks about you. But he was wrong.”

“That's what I tell myself,” you laughed dryly, leaning into his touch. Theo loosened his coat and wrapped it around you as he pulled you closer, listening to you intently. “I want to believe that I am lovable or interesting or desirable, but after what he said…” Your voice grew quiet, this was something only Theo could be trusted with, vulnerable words exchanged under the cover of his coat. “I can't come up with a single reason why you would want me.”

“Because there is no single reason,” Theo answered softly as he inspected his coat to make sure you were covered completely. “Or rather, there is such a multitude of reasons you'd have to give me a while to write them down, if you were being fair. Or maybe there isn't one at all. I’m not with you for a specific reason or a specific aspect of you. I want you because of you and everything that entails.”

You could follow his line of thought, but the mean little voice acquitted the abstraction of his words to a lie. “You speak in tongues,” you chuckled sadly and felt him sigh. “Tesoro, is it that inconceivable to you that I could love you?”

“Yes,” you said promptly, for one because it was true, but also because Theo’s dropping of the l-bomb had momentarily stunned you.

“I’ll just have to reiterate then,” Theo said and made you look at him. “Again and again and again until you believe me.” When you continued to look unconvinced, he clenched his teeth in frustration. How on earth was he supposed to convince someone as stubborn as you? In what ways could he comfort you, make you believe him when he told you how much he appreciated you?

“Do you know what tesoro means?” Theo asked and you were hit with the sudden realization that you didn't. In the beginning, before your relationship started, you had been convinced that it was a teasing insult he could dangle over your head, that you couldn't understand. But you’d never asked.

When you shook your head in response, Theo gave you the smallest of smiles, the best he could muster. “It means ‘treasure'. You are so precious to me, tesoro,” he said in a lowered voice as he kissed up the side of your face. “I wouldn't trade you for the world. I want you to let me love you, I want to crush anyone who hurts you.”

Laying in his arms breathlessly, you tried to think of a response, but his wit with words had disarmed you. All you could do was hold onto him, sneak your icy hands under his shirts and draw small patterns there in an attempt to convey your response. Finally, some of the mist faded and you were able to grasp a rational thought. “What do I do now?”

“Hm, I don't know,” Theo answered, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice. You squinted your eyes up at him. “You aren't being a help,” you lied and he crooked his head knowingly before he got serious once more. “It's up to you what to do, tesoro. Whatever you choose to do, it's valid.”

“What if I blow up the astronomy tower?” you joked in an attempt to downplay how touched you were by his trust, by his respect and esteem for you that you had found questioned before a sea of onlookers half an hour prior. “Still valid,” Theo decided and pursed his lips, making you giggle irrationally. He seemed to take it as a sign of tiredness and took his cloak from you despite your protests. “Let's get you up into bed, tesoro.”

“I don't want to,” you muttered darkly. “They’ll all know what happened by now, and I don't want to run into Harry.”

“We could go back to my dorm,” Theo said openly as he took your hands and placed them in his pockets to protect them against the frosty wind. “But my dorm mates can be a bit trampy, and they are no nice sight to wake up to. Plus, they’ll be frustrated by the lost match, I don't know whether the option is more pleasant.”

But something had just dawned on you, an idea so brilliant you were surprised by yourself. “I know where we can go.” Without questioning your use of ‘we’, Theo locked your fingers with his. “Lead the way, then.”

You half expected Filch to turn up every time you crossed a corner, or to stumble upon Mrs Norris, which would be equally as unfortunate. But your way up to the fifth floor remained miraculously free of cats and caretakers. When you flung around a corner, Theo hot on your heels, you suddenly felt a tug on your hand as he slowed down. Before you could turn around to ask what was wrong, you felt his breath close to your ear. “I know where you’re taking me, tesoro.”

You didn't doubt that for a second, what with all his mountains of knowledge, it was hard to come across something Theo didn't know. “Why didn't you think of it, then?” you asked and kept walking. If you remembered right from your fifth year, it had to be somewhere around here, maybe in the next corridor…

“I tend to use that room for … other purposes,” his tone of voice, the little smirk adorning his lips and the subtle mirth in his eyes left no doubt for the nature of those purposes. Stupidly, you felt your cheeks heat up and tried to avert your face, doing your very best to hide your blush. Though Theo’s barely concealed chuckle had you realize the pointlessness of that endeavor.

When you pushed open the doors of the room of requirement, you were, unsurprisingly, treated to a welcoming sight. The room was warm and several fireplaces along its walls gave it a homely feeling. In fact, it reminded you of the Griffindor tower a little. Just that the cushions and couches had been replaced by a large, king sized four poster in the middle of the room, its curtains swaying softly in the nonexistent breeze. “Nice,” Theo complimented and you smiled to yourself. “You think so?”

Now, alone with Theo, hands brushing, voices whispering without any reason, you felt much calmer. You parted from him to step further into the room and reached the bed, sitting down on it. A surprised sigh left your lips when you practically sunk in the soft sheets and you fell back onto your back. As you blinked up at the high ceiling, Theo's face came into view. He, too, looked a lot more relaxed, had his hands in his pockets and looked down on you with a teasing smile. “So… there seems to be only one bed in your ideal room for us.”

You frowned. “If you want your own bed, I'm sure the room will provide it.” Theo hummed and looked around as if he were looking for it. “Strange, it doesn't. Seems like I don't want my own bed after all.”

You scooted aside to make space for him and he settled down on the mattress with far more elegance than you. Theo hoisted his long legs onto the bed, slipped off his shoes and pulled you closer with one arm. With a tired sigh, you settled against his warm chest and his fingers drew circles on the skin beneath your shirt. You, too, took off your shoes without bothering to remove any other piece of clothing. When you took his hand, you heard an intake of breath from Theo, as if he had wanted to say something that didn't make it past his lips.

Angling your head upwards, you found him already looking at you. “Thank you,” he said, and it sounded more grave, more intimate than his apology and declaration of love had. Theo didn't thank people very often, you realized. “For what?” you whispered, not daring to raise your voice against the silence that seemed to lay its protective cloak over the two of you. “You defended me,” Theo said mutedly, still drawing tender patterns onto your skin. “In front of all those people. Against your brother.”

“Ah, well,” you shrugged and smiled. “That was nothing. Theo?” “Hm?” It was your turn to cup his face gently. “You deserve to be stood up for.” You frowned at the sarcastic twitch around his mouth, but the smile he gave you was genuine. “I don't deserve you, tesoro. Come oso mettere le mani su qualcosa di così puro?”

“You deserve the world, Theo,” you said fiercely and sat up, fisting his shirt in your hands. Your heart was thrumming as you prepared the words, tried them on your tongue silently, and finally, they slipped past your lips. With a heavy accent, no doubt, and a shaky voice. “Ti amo, Theo.”

His eyes widened subtly. A movement rippled through his whole body, you could barely comprehend it when he pulled you onto his lap and shot up, lips clashing into yours in one fluid motion. His lips beckoned yours into a sensual dance as he whispered into your mouth: “Anch'io ti amo, tesoro.” When you whimpered against his lips, Theo surged forward and flipped you onto your back.

All your thoughts were consumed by him, him, him. The caress of his lips, the touch of his hands that ran up and down your body, the sound of his voice as he whispered foreign phrases of Italian into your ear. If he didn't feel so real and warm under your fingertips, you'd have thought him a vivid daydream. Each and every touch seemed to push you, you with you, lead you to a predetermined end he'd already set for you. His fingertips and lips ignited a fire inside of you that burned through every last bit of self control and you moaned helplessly against him, eliciting a chuckle from Theo .

When you ran out of breath, you broke free from him and looked into his impossibly blue eyes. They were brimming with tenderness, raking over your figure, taking in your disheveled hair, heaving chest and hazy eyes. “You look tired.”

Theo manouvered you back onto your back and pulled the blankets over the two of you. Snuggling against him, your fingertips brushed over your kiss-bitten lips in silent memory. Only Theo's voice could pull you out of your daydreams. “You should get some sleep.” Nodding, you closed your eyes and allowed your body to relax against his. Only one thing was still bugging you. “Theo?”

“Hm?”

“Promise me you won't hurt Harry,” you said as sternly as you could manage in your half sleeping state. A silence followed, during which you almost dozed off, but Theo’s voice sounded through the deafening tiredness that weighed your lids down. “If you insist.”

By breakfast the next morning, somehow, half the school knew what had happened the last night. And when noon rolled around, it was the whole student body. Hermoine had stayed up late last night, in the hopes of talking to you when you came back to your dorm, but you hadn't, and hadn't been in your bed when she had woken up either. Hermoine only managed to catch a glimpse of you when you hurriedly left the Griffindor table at breakfast upon their arrival, and you seemed to have spend the forenoon avoiding them with the assistance of Fred’s and George’s magic sweets.

Harry had been in a particularly foul mood all morning, staring gloomily and snapping at her and Ron any chance he got. Though Hermoine caught his unmistakably worried look when you called in sick and flew from the Griffindor table. Her irritation had grown worse as well, as she was subjected to Harry’s short temper, and reached its peak at dinner time when the three of them were on their way to the Great Hall and Harry raised his voice at her for something so minor it was ridiculous.

“Harry, we need to talk,” she said sternly and halted her steps. The two boys turned to her reluctantly, Harry looked exasperated, Ron cast worried glances at him. “What, Hermoine?” Harry asked sharply and she crossed her arms. “There is no reason to use that tone with me. We need to talk about last night. You clearly feel bad for what happened-”

“I couldn't care less,” Harry pressed through clenched teeth, but none of them took the chance to revel in the irony. “And I wasn't the one who betrayed the family-”

“Are you sure?” Hermoine interrupted him. “She is your only family, and you made her cry.”

Harry snorted. “Me? It's all that bloke Nott’s fault! And she's to blind to see that he's just using her!” He stormed off, but Hermoine caught up with him, unwilling to let the topic go. Ron, on the other hand, looked as uncomfortable as if he was following two acromantulae instead of his best friends.

“Look,” Hermoine tried the diplomatical approach, slightly out of breath. “I don't like Nott either, but other than her, I've never exchanged a single word with him. And neither have you.”

“Yeah, he's super quiet,” Ron chimed in, “He's weird that one, he's got something to hide for sure. What if he's a death eater, too?”

“She doesn't know what she's getting herself into with him,” Harry retorted hotly, skipping Ron's comment.

“What makes you think that?” Hermoine asked angrily. A surprised gasp left Harry's throat when she grabbed his robes and brought him to a halt. “Why don't you trust her? I get that you’re worried, but she's not a child, and honestly, she's far more reflecting than you are being right now. I would trust her to read someone over you, Harry, because she's smart and she could hold her own. And you know she's struggling with self esteem and still, you said these horrible things to her. You look more like an asshole than Nott right now!”

Hermoine's chest rose and fell rapidly and Harry seemed dumbfounded for a second. A second Ron used to attempt to diffuse the heated situation. “Look, neither of us likes Nott, but we all like her. How about we just find her, you apologize, Harry, and we reconcile. And Nott is a topic for tomorrow.”

Hermoine read in Harry's face that he knew Ron was right, but she also knew that your stubbornness was only rivaled by your brother’s. “I just want to protect her, Hermoine.”

“You have a funny way of showing that, Potter.”

All three of them spun around so fast their bags knocked against each other. Leaning against a tapestry a few feet from them was Theodore Nott, in the flesh, hands in his pockets, a picture of dangerous calm. His piercing eyes were fixed on Harry, and though his features were as unreadable as ever, the line of his jaw was unnaturally sharp, revealing his tension.

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked aggressively, stepping in front of Harry. When Nott let his gaze wander over him, he flushed slightly but didn't back down. Hermoine felt herself tense up. Though you never knew with him, the look in Nott's eyes was unmistakable, and she reached for her wand under her robes, just to feel less helpless.

“I’m not here to fight you, so you can put that away, Granger,” he said, without looking at her. Ron opened his mouth, no doubt to stand up for her, but Hermoine stepped on his foot to silence him before he could utter a word. Unbothered by Ron’s glare and Harry’s drawn wand, Nott returned his cool stare to Harry. “Your sister made me promise not to hurt you, so I won't. But you will apologize to her.” His tone left no room for doubt what would happen if his demands weren't met.

When neither of the three replied, Theo pushed himself off the wall. Somehow, he was even taller than Ron, who planted himself in front of the other two protectively. “Did you hear, Potter?” he asked softly, his tone indicated that he greatly enjoyed the effect he had. “You will apologize. You will take everything back. You will let her make the calls. And if she tells you to shut it and go away, you will. Though I figure you, too, know that she is far too kind for that. And if you don’t, you will be on the receiving end of my wrath.”

“You'd break your promise, huh?” Harry snarled and Hermoine could have punched him. “You act so high and mighty, as if you cared about her, but in the end, you would go over her head just like that.”

Notts eyes glinted dangerously and his voice grew even softer, if that was even possible. “Other than you maladroit Griffindor lot, I have ways of getting my retaliation other than hurting you, Potter.”

“Are you including my sister in that ‘maladroit Griffindor lot’?” Harry hissed and Theo raised his brow. “No. She's the exception.” There was a few seconds of silence, during which Theo and Harry glared at each other and Ron and Hermoine exchanged nervous glances.

Finally, Nott took another step forward. He seemed to attempt a less hostile tone, but didn't quite succeed. “She means a lot to me. Her happiness means a lot to me. And you will not stand in the way of it. I want this … arrangement to work for her, so I ask you,” the last part seemed to strain him, “to tolerate me, as I will tolerate you.”

“If you’re trying to get me to accept you-” Harry began, incensed, but Theo cut him off. “I'm not asking for your acceptance, Potter, I ask you to respect your sister and her decision and not throw a hissy fit because she gets her own life instead of running around fixing yours.” The short term diplomacy had vanished and he let out an exasperated sigh, rummaging in his robes for a pack of cigarettes.

As much as Hermoine held an aversion to him and his friends, she couldn't deny that he had a point. Harry couldn't either, she saw it in his face, the way he gripped his wand but let it slip back under his robes. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed off. Ron waited a few tactful seconds before following him, but Hermoine remained, casting nervous glances at the Slytherin. When Nott looked up from lighting his cigarette, he raised his brow at her still standing there.

“Do you really like her?” she asked, testing his reaction. His fingers holding the cigarette twitched as he lifted them to his mouth once more. If Filch caught him smoking in the halls, he’d earn himself a punishment even he couldn't buy himself out of. Maybe this afflicted him more than he let on, if he risked his polished record so carelessly.

“Yes,” he said simply, but his tone was grave and intense. His eyes bored into her skull, it seemed, and Hermoine wondered wether he could do legilimency. She nodded in thought. Hermoine couldn't help but believe him, though she still didn't like him. But one thing she knew.

“She likes you too,” Hermoine replied and there was a subtle twitch in his brows. “She's been happier lately. Absent and secretive, but she seems to be doing better than ever. Well, you two have my blessing, is what I just wanted to say. If that means anything.” A little embarrassed, she turned to go but stopped when he called out to her.

“It does.” When he saw the surprised look on her face, Nott waved with his cigarette. “It means something to her. So, thank you.” Nodding, Hermoine turned her back on him and walked up the corridor, replaying the conversation in her mind. Madness, she thought, shaking her head. Theodore Nott thanking someone, thanking her. Unbelievable.

You had made sure to hide in the room of requirement until fifteen minutes before curfew, when you hurried up to Griffindor tower. Per your estimation, the common room would be fairly empty, since it was a weekday, and your dorm mates would be sleeping if you waited out midnight by the fire. When you slipped through the portrait hole, you found the common room deserted and breathed a sigh of relief. Your favorite armchair by the fire was free and you sank into the cushion with a satisfied exhale.

“Can we talk?”

Just as quickly as you had fallen into the armchair, you jumped up from it. Your eyes found a lone figure near the steps to the boy’s dormitories. Harry’s hair was even more disheveled as usual and he looked tired, but he hadn't changed into his pyjamas yet. So he had been waiting for you.

Even though you were not keen on another lecture, you didn't want to affront him when he wasn't yelling at you anymore. So you nodded and sat back down, pulling your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your kneecaps to stare into the flickering flames. You heard Harry shuffle closer and saw him plopp down on the couch next to you out of your peripheral vision. He, too, seemed to have directed his eyes to the fire.

“I … ran into Nott earlier,” he said and you did a double take. “How are you still in one piece?” Harry gave you a deadpan look that you would've laughed about, if you had felt like laughing. “According to him, you made him promise not to hex me.”

“Right,” you said, remembering if vaguely, and leaned back into the cushion. “How did it go?” you asked shyly, drawing hope from the fact that Harry seemed unharmed. “He was … direct,” Harry said with pursed lips and you couldn't suppress the light chuckle that fell from your lips. “He tends to be. When it suits him.”

“Make sure you tell him I apologized,” Harry mumbled, giving you a tentative look. “Or he might take my head off.”

“You didn't,” you said firmly, feeling a pang of guilt when Harry looked up. The look in his eyes reminded you of when he was younger. “You didn't apologize yet,” you explained and Harry shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “Right.” With a long sigh, he ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have called you naive, or stupid, or delusional.” “It hurt me,” you clarified and hugged your legs tighter to your chest. “Made me feel like I'm not even my own person. And you knew it would hurt me.”

“Yes,” Harry admitted and you could hear his regret laced into every syllable. “I wanted to hurt Nott, but I only hurt you. I overreacted a bit, I admit that. But-” “No buts,” you cut him off, sensing an incoming tirade over Theo. Sitting up in your seat, you crossed your arms and made him look at you. “You don't know him. But I do, and I trust him. And if you trust me, you should respect my decision. I get that you're worried, and it's sweet, it really is, but this is my call, not yours.”

“I know,” Harry groaned, hiding his face in his hands. You felt your resolve melt and rose out of your armchair to walk over to him, sitting down next to him and opening your arms. He slumped into them and you pulled him against your chest as you ran your hands through his hair.

“Harry?” “Hm?” “I'm sorry too. For not telling you.”

“Can't blame you,” he spoke against his hands so his voice came out muffled. “I was a prick last night.” “Stronzo,” you said proudly, “is what Theo would call you.” In reminiscence of your moments with him, you watched the flames flicker and patted your brothers head. “Apology accepted, by the way. If you keep your opinions about my relationship to yourself.”

“Thank you,” Harry muffled against your sweater and lifted himself up to put his head on your shoulder. You rested your chin upon his and pulled a blanket over the two of you. No more words were exchanged as you rested against each other, too lazy to stand up and go to your dorms. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the warmth of your brother and the fire. A weight that had accumulated over the last months was finally from your shoulders. Not in the way you had hoped, but you couldn't help but feel utterly content right now, with your brother, drowning in the cushion, head swarming with thoughts of Theo.

a/n: thank you all for reading! to wrap this story up, I'll ad an (unofficial) nsfw part for those who are interested that I hope to get out before the start of 2025 (no promises). until then, enjoy this little teaser:

You sat cross-legged on the king sized bed in the room of requirement, fingers picking at the threads of the soft duvet beneath you. Anticipation curled in your insides as you fixed your eyes on the door. The room had answered your subconscious wish and provided a clock, an old grandfather clock, that ticked softly. Apart from your breathing, it was the only sound breaking the silence. Until the door handle clicked.

The door creaked open, and you looked up sharply, your breath catching as Theo slipped inside. His hair was damp from the rain still falling outside, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, his sharp features softening as his eyes landed on you. He hesitated for a moment, as if gauging the mood, before closing the door behind him with a quiet thud. There was a sort of tension in the room, or maybe you were imagining it because your nerves ran high. When Theo crooked his head, you realized what he was waiting for.

“Oh, Harry apologized,” you reassured him and Theo nodded, approaching the bed slowly. On his way, he shed his cloak and bag and sat down on the bed, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. “How did your friends take the whole thing?” you asked and scooted back to make space for him. Theo's eyes followed your retreating figure and he raised his brow, moving after you. “Are you running from me, tesoro?”

“Are you avoiding my question, Theo?” you countered and scooted back even more to tease him. Theo chuckled darkly and surged forward, trapping you beneath him by seizing your wrists and pushing them gently into the cushion. You couldn't help the high pitched gasp that left your throat. One of Theo's large hands was enough to bind both your wrists, leaving you utterly helpless under his hungry eyes. The other drew a teasing line down your side.

“Wouldn't dream of it, tesoro.”

[...] -> to be continued

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winter holidays part two

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader ᥫ᭡ words: 3k ᥫ᭡ summary: your brother's best friend is spending the winter holidays at your family manor. A group snowball fight between Theo, Mattheo, Draco, Blaise and you turns competitive. But you only have your eyes on him. ᥫ᭡ Notes: F!Reader and Theodore Nott's sister.

part one

The morning came far too soon, pulling you from the restless haze of a night spent chasing thoughts you couldn’t seem to quiet. Sleep had been elusive, slipping through your fingers each time you closed your eyes. Your mind returned, over and over, to the scene from the night before: the swing creaking gently beneath you two, the cold bite of winter softened by Mattheo’s warm presence against you.

It wasn’t the chill of the night that had kept you awake, but the memory of his gaze—heavy, searching, and impossibly close. The way snowflakes had caught in his dark curls, the silver light turning them almost ethereal. You could still feel the weight of his jacket on your shoulders, the warmth of his hands brushing against your skin as he pulled you closer. And then there was the moment before you closed the door to your room: the unspoken tension, the way his eyes lingered as though he were memorizing you.

What would have happened if you hadn’t stepped away? If you had leaned in and kissed him instead of retreating? The thought left a strange ache in your chest, one you didn’t quite know how to name. But you would never know. You told yourself that much as you wrapped your robe around you and made your way downstairs, drawn by the faint sounds of voices and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

The warmth of the dining room was a sharp contrast to the frosty stillness outside. Theo and Mattheo were already seated at the long wooden table, the remnants of breakfast spread before them. Theo looked up as you entered, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly.

“Well, good morning,” he said, his tone light but with an edge of suspicion. “You sleep in or something?”

“Something like that,” you replied with a small smile, making your way to the pot of coffee.

“The snow’s relentless,” Theo continued, motioning toward the window. “It must’ve dumped half a meter last night. We’re practically buried.”

Your hands froze for the briefest moment, the coffee pot halfway to your cup. “Oh,” you said lightly, forcing your voice to remain steady as you poured. “I hadn’t noticed.”

But you had. You could still see the way the snow fell softly around Mattheo, dusting his shoulders as he stood in the faint moonlight, his curls catching the white like a canvas. You hadn’t forgotten, not for a second.

“You were probably too busy dreaming of who-knows-what,” Theo teased, turning his attention back to his plate.

Mattheo, silent until now, glanced at you from across the table. His dark eyes met yours briefly, unreadable as ever, before he returned to his cup. Yet even that fleeting look sent a spark of warmth through you, one that you tried and failed to ignore.

You took your seat, the memory of last night pressing against the edges of your thoughts, and the snow outside continued to fall as if the world had paused just for you.

Theo leaned back in his chair, his coffee cup in hand, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “By the way,” he said casually, as though it were an afterthought, “I invited Draco and Blaise over. They should be here soon.”

You looked up, momentarily startled. “Draco and Blaise?”

He nodded, his smirk widening. “Yeah. Thought it’d be fun to have a snowball fight. You know how Draco gets—he’s convinced he’s unbeatable.”

The corners of your mouth twitched in what might have been amusement on another day, but the tension in your chest made it impossible to muster more than a faint smile. You did know Draco and Blaise well. Not as well as Mattheo, of course, but they had always been fixtures in Theo’s life—his closest friends from his first year at Hogwarts, present at every tedious pure-blood event you’d been forced to attend, their polished airs and practiced grins as much a part of those events as the crystal chandeliers and endless glasses of elf-made wine.

Normally, the thought of a snowball fight would have made you light up. You loved the snow, loved the way it softened the edges of the world, muffling sounds and blanketing everything in quiet beauty. But this morning, the excitement refused to come. The memory of last night hung heavy over you, a weight you couldn’t quite shake, and you knew Mattheo was at the heart of it.

“Not going to jump at the chance to pelt us all with snowballs, princess?” Mattheo’s voice broke into your thoughts, a teasing lilt to his tone. He rested his elbows on the table, his sharp eyes watching you like he could see right through you.

You shrugged, forcing a neutral expression. “Maybe I’ll just watch from the sidelines. Wouldn’t want to embarrass all of you.”

Theo snorted. “Please. You? Embarrass us? Stick to your books, Y/N. This is real competition.”

Mattheo’s smirk deepened, a flicker of something playful and dangerous in his expression. “Oh, come on, Theo. Don’t be too hard on her. Maybe she’s just afraid of getting her hair messed up. Can’t have our little princess looking anything less than perfect, can we?”

Your chest tightened at the nickname. He was doing it on purpose—you knew he was. Pushing just enough to see if he could make you squirm, to see if you’d break. It wasn’t unlike him to provoke you, but today, it felt sharper, more deliberate.

“I think I’ll be fine,” you said evenly, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Besides, you seem to spend more time on your hair than I do. Wouldn’t want to ruin that.”

Theo barked out a laugh, and Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. “Touché,” he said, his voice low and amused. “Guess we’ll just have to see if you’re as quick on your feet in the snow as you are with your mouth.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding harder now, the tension between you crackling like electricity in the air. Mattheo leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself, and Theo—oblivious as ever—stood and stretched, effectively breaking the moment.

“They’ll be here any minute,” he said, heading toward the door. “Better get ready, Y/N. Unless you really do plan on sitting this one out.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around your coffee mug. You didn’t trust yourself around Mattheo—not after last night, not with the way he was looking at you now. But the last thing you wanted was to give Theo any reason to suspect that something was amiss.

“I’ll join,” you said finally, your voice steadier than you felt. “But don’t cry when I beat you all.”

Theo laughed, disappearing into the hall to prepare, leaving you alone with Mattheo. He watched you for a moment longer, his smirk fading slightly, his expression turning more serious.

“You sure you’re up for it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost challenging.

You looked up at him, your jaw tightening. “I’m sure.”

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place, and for a moment, you thought he might say something else. But then he leaned back, the smirk returning. “Good. Wouldn’t want you to miss the chance to prove me wrong.”

And with that, he stood, leaving you alone with the memory of his teasing tone and the way his gaze lingered just a second too long. The snow outside glittered in the morning sun, beautiful and blinding, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you were going to survive the day.

You changed into your warmest clothes, layering a heavy knit sweater under your winter coat and wrapping a scarf snugly around your neck. The manor’s cold halls seemed to press in around you as you made your way toward the door, boots crunching lightly against the old wooden floors. From outside, you could already hear the voices of the boys, their laughter and taunts carrying through the frosty air.

As you stepped out into the bright, snow-covered grounds, the cold bit at your cheeks, and you pulled your gloves tighter over your fingers. Theo spotted you first, a wide grin spreading across his face as he waved you over. Blaise stood beside him, already armed with a snowball, his sharp features lit with mischief.

“About time,” Theo called out. “I was beginning to think you’d chickened out.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging through the snow to join them. “I had to mentally prepare myself to carry this team.”

Blaise let out a bark of laughter. “Bold words for someone who hasn’t even thrown a snowball yet.”

On the other side of the field, Mattheo and Draco stood huddled together, the latter’s pale blonde hair catching the sunlight like a beacon. They were already strategizing, Draco gesturing animatedly while Mattheo stood with his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, watching you approach with a look that sent a shiver down your spine—one that had nothing to do with the cold.

Draco’s voice cut through the air, crisp and teasing. “You sure you can handle this, Nott? Or are you just here to cheer for your brother?”

You shot him a glare, already crouching to gather a handful of snow. “Don’t worry about me, Malfoy. Worry about yourself.”

Mattheo smirked, stepping closer to Draco as he sized you up. “Careful, princess. Wouldn’t want you to break a nail.”

Your grip on the snowball tightened, heat rising to your cheeks that you prayed looked like nothing more than the chill of the winter air. “I’ll break something, alright,” you muttered under your breath, earning a chuckle from Theo.

“Alright, alright,” Theo called out, waving his arms to signal a start. “Three against two. That means no crying when we win, Malfoy.”

“Not likely,” Draco scoffed, his grin sharp and challenging. “You’re about to learn what real strategy looks like.”

Mattheo stayed quiet, his smirk never fading as his dark eyes remained fixed on you. He crouched to gather a snowball, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he already knew this was less about the game and more about whatever invisible line the two of you kept dancing around.

The first few minutes were chaos. Snow flew through the air in every direction, shouts and laughter mingling with the crisp crackle of boots crushing snow. Blaise turned out to be a surprisingly skilled shot, his snowballs landing with precision and force, while Theo charged ahead like a bull, more focused on brute strength than aim.

You tried to keep your focus, but it was impossible not to notice Mattheo. He moved with a kind of easy confidence, dodging and throwing with an almost lazy precision that made it seem like he wasn’t even trying. And every so often, his gaze would find yours, a flicker of challenge in his eyes that sent your heart racing.

You barely had time to register your next move before Mattheo hurled a snowball straight at you, the impact hitting your shoulder with surprising precision. “That’s one!” he shouted smugly. “Better keep up, princess!”

“Don’t let him get to you!” Blaise yelled, already running to flank Draco.

But Mattheo wasn’t letting up. Every time you moved, it was as though he anticipated your steps, his snowballs striking closer and closer. His smirk only grew as you dodged one, then another, his taunts cutting through the air.

“Still think you can handle this?” he called, his tone maddeningly confident.

You bit your lip, a mix of frustration and determination coursing through you. Without thinking, you scooped up a handful of snow, taking aim.

“Watch and learn,” you muttered, letting the snowball fly.

The snowball struck Mattheo square in the face, the impact sending a puff of white powder into the air. His cocky smirk vanished as he stumbled back, momentarily stunned. For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, Blaise let out a whoop of laughter, clapping his gloved hands together.

“Did you see that?” Blaise crowed, pointing at Mattheo. “Perfect shot!”

Theo grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders, his chest puffed out in mock pride. “That’s my sister,” he declared loudly, as if your victory was his own.

Mattheo, however, was far from amused. He brushed the snow from his face, his dark eyes narrowing as a slow, dangerous smirk replaced his earlier expression. “Alright, Y/N,” he said, his tone low and taunting. “You’re dead.”

Before you could react, Mattheo lunged, scooping up another handful of snow as he sprinted toward you.

“Oh, no, no, no!” you cried, laughing as you turned and bolted, your boots crunching through the snow.

“You better run!” Mattheo called after you, his voice laced with playful menace.

The others’ laughter faded into the background as you ran, your heart pounding in time with your footsteps. You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of Mattheo hot on your heels, his curls bouncing as he pursued you.

“Is that the best you’ve got, Riddle?” you taunted breathlessly, your voice carried by the cold winter air. “Too slow!”

Mattheo let out a bark of laughter, his pace quickening. “Oh, you’re going to regret that, little brat.”

Your boots skidded slightly as you darted toward the edge of the forest, the thick trees looming ahead. The snow was deeper here, slowing your steps as you wove between the trunks, your laughter mingling with the sound of Mattheo’s footsteps close behind.

“You can’t run forever, Y/N!” he called, his voice teasing but edged with determination.

“Maybe I can,” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder just as your foot caught on a hidden root, sending you tumbling forward into the snow.

You barely had time to react before Mattheo was on you, his weight pressing you into the ground as he pinned you beneath him.

“Gotcha,” he panted, his breath visible in the icy air.

You squirmed beneath him, the cold snow soaking through your coat, but his grip on your wrists was firm. His body hovered just above yours, his knees bracketing your hips, his face inches from yours as he caught his breath.

“You—” you started, your voice breathless, “—are insufferable.”

“And you,” he countered, his dark eyes glittering with amusement, “are terrible at running away.”

His lips twitched into a smirk, but the playfulness in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something heavier. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a moment before snapping back to your eyes. “Do you always have to be so difficult?”

“Do you always have to be so arrogant?” you shot back, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

You tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks, but it was impossible with the weight of his body pressing against yours, the snow beneath you doing little to cool the fire building between you. The world seemed to shrink, the towering trees and falling snow fading into the background as you became hyper-aware of every point of contact—the way his fingers wrapped around your wrists, the way his breath ghosted across your skin.

The corners of his mouth tugged upward, his smirk softening. “Maybe.” For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension crackling like electricity in the icy air. His eyes dropped to your lips briefly, and your heart stuttered in your chest. The snowflakes that clung to his dark curls only made him look more unreal, and you cursed yourself for how badly you wanted to close the distance.

His head dipped slightly, his breath warm against your cold skin. Your chest tightened, every nerve in your body on high alert as his lips hovered inches from yours. You also wanted to push him away, to say something that would break the spell, but you couldn’t move.

“Mattheo,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “We can’t. Theo—”

“Do you always let your brother dictate your life,” he interrupted, his voice low and rough, “or is it just when it comes to me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for far too long. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was hesitant at first, as though testing the boundaries of what you would allow. But when you didn’t pull away, his hand cupped the side of your face, and the kiss deepened. It was electric—messy and hurried, but so full of unspoken desire that it left you breathless.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were dark, his breath coming in soft puffs of white in the cold air. “Can we try that again?” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.

You nodded, and he didn’t hesitate this time. His lips captured yours with an intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. This wasn’t a tentative brush or a cautious test—it was raw and unapologetic, fueled by the unspoken tension that had simmered between you for far too long. His hand slid into your hair, tangling in the strands, as he tilted your head to deepen the angle.

His tongue traced the seam of your lips, a silent plea for entrance, and without thinking, you parted them for him. The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your knees weak, even as you were pinned beneath him. It was intoxicating, his taste—warm and heady, like something you could drown in if you weren’t careful.

His other hand gripped your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, as though he needed to feel every inch of you against him. The snow beneath you was cold, biting against your skin, but his kiss was fire—a scorching contrast that left you dizzy and grasping for more.

Each movement of his lips against yours, every deliberate stroke of his tongue, felt like a claim, as though he were staking a silent but undeniable ownership over the moment—and over you.

But the sharp sound of Theo’s voice echoed through the forest, shattering the moment like glass.

“Y/N! Mattheo! Where the hell are you?”

You broke apart instantly, your breaths ragged as you stared at each other, the reality of what had just happened crashing over you. Mattheo’s jaw clenched, his frustration visible, but he pushed himself up, extending a hand to help you to your feet.

As you brushed the snow from your clothes, you avoided his gaze, your cheeks burning despite the cold. Theo’s voice called out again, closer this time, and Mattheo swore under his breath.

“This isn’t over,” he said quietly, his tone firm but laced with something softer.

You didn’t trust yourself to respond, so you simply nodded, your heart still pounding as you started back toward the clearing together.

You weren’t sure what had just happened, or how you were going to face Theo—or Mattheo—after this. But one thing was certain: the line you’d both been so careful not to cross had been obliterated, and there was no going back.