#theo nott dialogue

[nottsangel]

teddy would record you while he fucks you and then blackmail you with it if you try to leave him🤗🤗

OHH im barking!!!!!!!!!!!! i luv dark n toxic stuff

like i’ve mentioned before, theo, but most importantly toxic!theo is very calculated. it was his plan all along to use the footage to blackmail you if needed, knowing you would inevitably leave him at some point. so he makes sure your pretty face is fully recognisable on camera as soft moans leave your mouth while he pounds into you. “you look so pretty on camera, bella. doin’ so good.”

and even though you were hesitant to do it at first, he had eventually convinced you when he reassured no one would get to see the videos but the two of you. and you fell for it so easily, yet it turned out to be a lie as you’re now crying on his bed, heartbroken and panicking as he threatens to post the videos after you said you wanted to part ways. “you have two choices here, amore. either you stay with me, or everyone will get to see what a dirty fuckin’ slut you are.”

ੈ♡˳

[jlhynde-insanitybrilliance]

*Harry to Theodore in UDLTTOM when he gets told to act his age*

Harry: And what is my age exactly?! Am I fifteen? Am I twenty-eight? I can act how ever I want to right now! You owe me that!

[mischievousmoony]

OH MY GOD!!!! this is so amazing brooke! theo’s pov was everything i was on the edge of my seat!! i loved getting to know what he was thinking in class next to her, but i feel so sad for him 😭

and of course i’m happy to help anytime lovie 🫶 i squealed when i got to the bits we discussed, thank you for letting me be part of the process!

IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER THREE I series masterlist WC: 5.6k

WARNINGS:

angst, language, nose bleed, headaches, asshole parents, pov switch, smoking, ron’s mean, roommate oc, let me know if i missed any

AUTHORS NOTE:

big thanks to the amazing @amiableness and @mischievousmoony for reading and helping me with this chapter! i love you both so much! couldn’t do it without you both!

hopefully this answers some questions you guys had! i had fun writing this!

After a restless night, you wake up feeling somewhat refreshed, though a faint unease still lingers, like a shadow just out of sight. You push the feeling aside, blaming it on the inevitable tension of the upcoming war. No one could expect to feel fully relaxed until it’s all over.

Determined to shake off the dread, you pull on your house uniform and head out to meet the trio in your usual spot, hoping the familiar routine will help steady your nerves.

As you fumble with your crooked tie, cursing under your breath at its refusal to cooperate, you’re so absorbed in the task that you don’t notice someone approaching until it’s almost too late. You barely manage to stop yourself from crashing into them. When you look up, it’s Luna, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watches you wrestle with the stubborn knot.

“Morning,” she says softly, her voice like a gentle breeze. “Your tie seems to be having a bit of a rebellion.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “It’s not the only thing,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Luna steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours as she takes over the task of fixing your tie. “There,” she says, her touch light but sure. “Sometimes, things just need a little extra patience.”

You’re about to thank her when she suddenly tilts her head, looking at you with that faraway gaze she’s known for.

“I think today will be important,” she muses, as if she’s sharing a secret with the universe.

You blink, caught off guard. “What makes you say that?”

Luna smiles, a soft, knowing smile. “Just a feeling,” she replies, before turning and drifting away as if pulled by some unseen force, leaving you standing there, tie now perfectly straight, and the uneasy feeling from before somehow softened by her presence.

Reeling from your conversation with Luna, you continue walking through the castle until you spot Hermione and Ron waiting at your usual spot. But there’s no sign of Harry, which is strange—he’s always the first to arrive.

“Where’s Harry?” you ask, looking around.

“Forgot something in the library,” Ron replies, rolling his eyes. “Said he’d meet us there.”

You nod, though Ron’s irritation catches you off guard. He must’ve had a rough morning already.

The three of you head to the Great Hall and find your seats. As soon as you sit down, you start piling food onto your plate. After missing lunch and dinner yesterday, you’re starving.

The chatter of the hall is a welcome distraction, and as you bite into a piece of bacon, the savory flavor makes you sigh in contentment.

As you chew, you turn to Hermione, eager to share something that’s been on your mind. “Guess what weird piece of clothing I found in my dorm last night?” you ask, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

Hermione raises an eyebrow, already playing along. “Don’t tell me it was Grace again?”

“It was Grace!” you laugh, enjoying how well she knows your roommate’s antics. “I found a Slytherin tie and a couple of jumpers by my bed. Honestly, I hope they didn’t do anything on my bed,” you add, making a face.

Hermione’s eyes widen, but before she can respond, you remember something else. “Oh, and I’ve been meaning to ask you guys,” you say, pulling a small locket from under your shirt.

You fumble with the chain a bit, trying to unsnag it from the loose thread on your tie. “Do you remember where I got this locket?”

You hold it up, letting the gold catch the light as you rotate it in your fingers. Ron opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get a word out, Harry suddenly appears at your side, his expression tense.

“Ron, Hermione, I need to talk to you—now,” Harry says, his voice urgent. He grabs both of them by the shoulders, startling all three of you.

“What’s going on?” you ask, but Harry’s already pulling them to their feet.

“Sorry, Trouble. We’ll be right back,” he says quickly before dragging them out of the hall, leaving you behind.

You watch them go, feeling a pang of exclusion. They’ve always had their secrets, but it still stings to be left out. You poke at your food, appetite waning, and glance around the Great Hall at the other students, all absorbed in their own lives. The noise that was comforting a moment ago now feels distant and hollow.

As you finish what you can manage, the morning owl post arrives, letters and packages dropping onto the tables. You’re surprised when two letters land in front of you instead of the usual one. You pick up the one from your parents first, already bracing yourself for the sharp words you know are coming. Carefully, you break the seal and unfold the letter.

“We heard you had an accident and fell. That is no excuse to fall behind in your studies. Make sure you catch up on any missed work immediately and seek extra credit if possible. You need to follow in your sister’s footsteps or you’ll never amount to anything—”

The words blur as a sharp pain stabs through your head. Your vision swims, and the hall around you seems to tilt.

You blink, trying to clear your head, when you see Theodore standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you.

“What are you doing out here?” you mutter, your voice thick with the remnants of the pain.

“I could ask you the same, Tesoro,” he replies, stepping closer. His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern in it. The moonlight filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the courtyard.

You turn away, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’m not in the mood, Nott.”

He doesn’t back off. Instead, he reaches out, gently catching your arm as you start to move away. “Hey, I’m not here to cause trouble,” he says softly. “Just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

For a moment, you consider brushing him off, but something in his voice makes you pause. You sigh, the fight draining out of you as you sink back down onto the bench.

He sits beside you, keeping a respectful distance. The silence stretches between you, but it doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected. After a while, you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket and hand it to him without a word.

He takes it, glancing at you before he starts reading. You watch his expression harden as he scans the lines, his jaw tightening with each word. When he’s finished, he folds the letter neatly and hands it back to you.

“They’re wrong, you know,” he says quietly. “You’re worth more than that.”

You look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks,” you whisper, though the words feel inadequate.

Theodore leans back, looking up at the sky. “You know, sometimes burning things like that helps,” he says casually, as if suggesting the most normal thing in the world. “It’s like telling them to go to hell.”

You blink, caught off guard by the suggestion. “Burn it?”

He nods. “Yeah. Why keep something that only hurts you?”

You consider his words for a moment, then slowly nod. “Yeah, okay. Let’s burn it.”

A small smile tugs at his lips as you take your wand out, feeling a little lighter. “Incendio,” you whisper, and the letter catches fire, the flames consuming the harsh words. You watch as the paper crumples and turns to ash, a strange sense of relief washing over you.

“Thanks, Theodore,” you say, glancing at him with a genuine smile. Somehow, he’s made the weight on your chest feel a little lighter.

“Trouble! Trouble!” Harry’s urgent voice pulls you back to reality. You’re still in the Great Hall, with Harry gripping your shoulders, his face etched with concern.

“What… what happened?” you ask, feeling disoriented. Your hand instinctively moves to your face, where you feel the warm, sticky sensation of blood trickling from your nose.

“You’re bleeding,” Harry says, his eyes wide. “We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey, now.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, pulling away slightly. “I can go on my own. You should get to class.”

Harry hesitates, worry etched on his face, but Hermione steps in, gently pushing him aside. “I’ll stay with her,” she says, giving Harry a reassuring nod.

As you wipe the blood from your nose, Hermione takes you by the arm and guides you out of the Great Hall. You can feel the weight of curious stares from your classmates, but you focus on Hermione’s calm presence beside you.

“I don’t want to see Madam Pomfrey,” you start to protest, a hint of anxiety creeping into your voice. You know you should go, but something inside you resists. That vivid memory from earlier—it felt so real. But why was Theodore Nott, of all people, in it?

“I know,” Hermione replies softly, her voice soothing. “We’ll go to your dorm instead. You can rest there.”

Her understanding surprises you, as if she knows exactly what’s weighing on your mind. You try to piece together the memory. It lingers, just out of reach, teasing you with its importance.

You’re lost in thought, your surroundings blurring into insignificance until Hermione pulls you into your dorm room. She sits you down on your rumpled bed, her face etched with concern.

“Hermione, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to steady your racing thoughts as you notice the tension in her posture.

Hermione takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with how to begin.

“Something happened… something we didn’t want you to find out like this.”

A cold knot forms in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, then says carefully, “The fall you think you had… it wasn’t a fall. You were hit by a spell—by accident.”

Your mind races, trying to make sense of her words. “A spell? What kind of spell?”

“A memory charm,” Hermione says quietly, her eyes locking onto yours. “It was meant to erase specific memories. But it didn’t go as planned, and you were caught in the crossfire.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “A memory charm… but I remember everything, don’t I?”

Hermione shakes her head slightly. “Not everything. We think it’s caused gaps, places where something important used to be but isn’t anymore.”

Your heart pounds as you try to wrap your mind around what she’s saying. “What did I forget? How much have I lost?”

“That’s the problem,” Hermione says, her voice gentle. “We can’t exactly tell you what’s missing. We’re trying to figure it out, but it’s tricky. We didn’t want to tell you until we had more answers.”

You feel a mix of fear and anger rising. “So, you were just going to let me walk around not knowing?”

“No!” Hermione says quickly. “We were going to tell you, we just needed time to understand it ourselves. But we found you unresponsive and bleeding…”

You sit in stunned silence, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What now?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We’ll work through this together,” Hermione promises. “We’ll do everything we can to help you recover what you’ve lost, or at least figure out what happened.”

Her words are meant to comfort you, but the reality of missing pieces of your life—of not knowing what’s been taken—leaves you feeling detached. Hermione remains by your side, her presence a steady source of reassurance as you struggle to process this overwhelming revelation.

Theos pov: prior day

Theo hadn’t had much time to process the chaos Potter had unleashed. The shock of learning that you no longer remembered him, followed by the sting of your angry outburst, had left him feeling numb, as if he were moving through the day in a fog. He wasn’t even sure how he had made it back to the dorm. Everything felt surreal, as if he were watching someone else’s life unravel before his eyes.

He barely registered walking into the common room. Even Mattheo’s attempts to get his attention seemed distant and muted, like he was hearing them through water. It wasn’t until Mattheo physically grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a shake that Theo snapped back to reality.

“Salazar, Theo, you really zoned out there,” Mattheo said with a hint of concern, though he tried to keep it light. His eyes scanned the room. “Where’s Trouble?”

The question hit Theo like a punch to the gut. His body tensed, and the words he needed to say seemed to lodge in his throat. How could he possibly explain what had happened? How could he tell his best mate that he’d been secretly fighting against everything their house stood for, and that you—his girlfriend—had been caught in the crossfire?

Mattheo would probably tell him that he deserved it, that this was the price of betraying his house. Or worse, he might report it to his father, who would ensure that Voldemort dealt with Theo personally.

“She… she had a nasty fall yesterday,” Theo forced the words out, his voice strained. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy Mattheo, but his friend wasn’t so easily convinced.

“That why you disappeared last night? Is she okay?” Mattheo asked, his tone more serious now, his earlier humor fading.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Theo muttered, the words barely audible. It was the first time he’d spoken them aloud, and doing so made it all feel too real, too painful.

“What do you mean?” Mattheo asked, his expression hardening as the gravity of the situation began to dawn on him. Trouble who had been a pain in his ass and was finally tolerating you. Theo didn’t want to say it again, didn’t want to feel that same stabbing pain in his chest. But Mattheo wasn’t letting it go.

“Theo, what do you mean?” he pressed, his voice sharp and demanding.

“She remembers everything but me! Our entire relationship—gone!” Theo snapped, the frustration and despair that had been building up since the incident finally boiling over. He shoved Mattheo back, his fists clenched tightly as if ready for a fight.

The anger, the helplessness, the grief—they all mingled together, pushing him to the brink. Tears threatened to spill, but he refused to break down, not in front of Mattheo, not in front of anyone but you.

“Hey, don’t take it out on me! I’m trying to help,” Mattheo shot back, stepping closer as if to challenge him, his tone now serious and firm. Theo scoffed in response, rolling his eyes as he pushed past him, desperate to reach the solitude of his room.

Theo slammed the door behind him with a force that reverberated through the room, but he barely noticed the sound. He couldn’t breathe; it felt like the walls were closing in on him, suffocating him.

Everything he cared about—everything that mattered—had been ripped away, and he had no idea how to get it back.

His gaze swept across the room, taking in the chaotic disarray of his belongings, though none of it seemed to register fully. His bed, unmade from where you had slept just the night before, looked like a mocking reminder of what he had lost.

Your tie, casually draped over his desk, next to the book you two had been reading together every night, felt like a relic of a time that had suddenly been erased. Little parchment notes, filled with love and encouragement, were scattered across the surfaces, each one a painful echo of a relationship that now existed only in his memory.

It was unbearable.

Desperate for an outlet, Theo grabbed the nearest object—a chair—and hurled it at the floor with all his strength. The wood splintered and cracked, pieces flying in every direction. A sharp shard sliced across his cheek, but the pain was a mere blip against the emotions raging inside him. It wasn’t enough; the destruction did nothing to quell the storm.

His eyes locked onto the fire poker resting by the fireplace, an innocent object that suddenly felt like the perfect instrument for his fury. He seized it, gripping it with both hands, and began to swing wildly at his bed.

The metal struck the wooden pillars with a resounding crash, splintering the supports, shattering the structure into ruins. His yells filled the room, raw and primal, as he tore through the space, obliterating everything within reach.

When there was nothing left to destroy, when the room was nothing but a mess of shattered wood, glass shards, and torn fabric, Theo collapsed against what remained of his bed. His back slid down the broken frame until he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the debris of his breakdown.

The numbness crept in, dulling the edges of his anger and grief, leaving him feeling hollow and lost. He stared blankly at the wall, his mind on the brink of spiraling again, unable to grasp what he was supposed to do next. How could he fix something so deeply broken?

His gaze shifted, and something caught his eye—a flash of color peeking out from under the bed. It was your jumper, partially hidden but unmistakable. He reached for it quickly, almost desperately, and when his fingers closed around the familiar fabric, he pulled it close. Dusting it off, he clutched it to his chest, his breath hitching as he buried his face in the soft material. Your scent lingered faintly, a comforting trace of you that seemed to cut through the haze of despair.

As he inhaled deeply, the tears finally came, silent and unchecked, sliding down his face as he held your jumper tighter. It was the first real release he’d allowed himself, the first moment he’d let the weight of everything truly hit him.

He had to find a way to fix this, to make things right. After his first class, he’d start working on a plan. He had to see you, make sure you were okay—and selfishly, because he couldn’t stand being apart from you any longer.

Theo rushed to class, almost knocking over several students in his haste. He didn’t bother apologizing; his mind was fixated solely on seeing you.

As he burst through the door, earning a few glances from his peers, his eyes immediately sought you out. There you were, sitting in your usual spot, and for a brief moment, Theo allowed himself to hope that maybe everything would be normal again. But as he approached and took the seat beside you, the tension in your posture made it clear he had been too optimistic.

He tensed in response, trying to keep himself together, even as the nausea of your apparent discomfort around him threatened to overwhelm him. Maybe it was a mistake to come to class instead of diving straight into research. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing you like this, not in his current fragile state. But what about you? Were you alright?

Lavender’s voice suddenly cut through his thoughts as she asked how you were doing. Theo’s heart raced, dreading what you might say, what Lavender might tell you.

This wasn’t how you should find out—not after everything that happened this morning. So he quickly cleared his throat, giving Lavender a sharp look that silently begged her to drop the subject.

Luckily, the professor began the lesson before anyone could say more. But Theo wasn’t paying attention; his focus was entirely on you. He watched as you suddenly winced, shutting your eyes tightly and massaging your temples. His heart clenched in his chest. He knew you suffered from migraines, but this one seemed different, more intense.

Normally, Theo would offer comfort, holding your hand or rubbing your back—anything to help ease the pain. You had always said his touch brought you relief, that his warmth helped you get through the worst of it.

But now, how could he offer that comfort when you seemed so distant? The image you had of him now wasn’t the same as it was yesterday. Still, he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

He leaned over, pretending to need more ink, subtly brushing against you. To his relief, he noticed your body relax slightly, and he felt a small surge of pride. It seemed your body still recognized him, even if your mind was struggling.

He stayed close for the rest of the class, finding some solace in being near you, even if it wasn’t the same. When the lesson finally ended, you remained seated, your breathing shaky. Theo wrestled with himself before finally finding the courage to speak.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

His voice seemed to pull you from whatever trance you were in, and you answered him hesitantly, clearly torn between confiding in him and holding back. Theo could see the conflict in your eyes, mirroring the turmoil in his own heart. To be so close to you yet feel so distant was a cruel irony.

Tentatively, he reached out, resting his hand on yours. The familiar softness of your skin was almost too much for him to bear. The urge to pull you into his arms was overwhelming, but he resisted. And then, to his dismay, you apologized.

Of course, you would apologize. Theo deflated, disappointment crashing over him. For a fleeting moment, it had felt like everything was normal again, like this was just the aftermath of a minor argument. But reality was far harsher.

This wasn’t a simple fix, and Theo wasn’t going to get an easy resolution.

Accepting your apology was a small hurdle, but saying your name instead of the endearing terms he used to call you—amore, tesoro—hurt the most. It felt foreign, like a painful reminder of how deeply the spell had affected you.

He could see that you wanted to say more, but then you recoiled, almost tipping backward in your chair. Instinctively, Theo reached out and caught you before you could hurt yourself further.

“Whoa, easy there. What’s happening?” he nearly let amore slip out, but caught himself just in time. Before he could say anything else, you excused yourself and hurried out of the classroom. Theo watched you go, his eyes never leaving your retreating figure, wishing he could take away whatever pain you were feeling.

Determined, Theo hastily grabbed his bag and decided to skip the rest of his classes. He needed to get to the library. Madam Pince could take all the points from Slytherin for all he cared. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

Theo stood frozen in the library, staring at the seemingly endless shelves of books. He didn’t know where to start, and the thought of asking Madam Pince for help made him grimace. He didn’t have the time or patience to search the entire library by himself. With a frustrated huff, he yanked off his robe, tossed his bag onto a nearby table, and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his nerves before reluctantly seeking out Pince.

“Mr. Nott, shouldn’t you be in class?” Irma Pince’s voice cut through his thoughts, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in disapproval.

“What are the call numbers for any information on the Obliviate spell?” Theo snapped, too agitated to explain himself.

Her eyes widened slightly at his sharp tone, clearly displeased with his lack of manners. “Ten points from Slytherin, Nott,” she replied icily, before guiding him to the section he needed.

After a short walk, she pointed to the relevant shelves. “This better be for research only and not some mischief you boys are planning,” she warned, her gaze stern and unyielding.

Theo barely concealed his irritation, rolling his eyes in blatant annoyance. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, brushing past her to scan the shelves for useful books.

Pince stalked off, leaving him to his task. He gathered a few books and an old Daily Prophet article, his arms heavy with the weight of them. He dropped the books onto the table, pulled out some parchment, and prepared to take notes—anything that might help fix the mess he was in.

Starting with The Standard Book of Spells, Theo flipped through the pages until he found the section on the Memory Charm.

“The Memory Charm (Obliviate), also known as the Forgetfulness Charm, was a charm that could be used to erase specific memories from an individual’s mind. It was different from the spell that created false memories.”

Theo sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. This wasn’t new information—it was basic knowledge. Moving on, he opened the Daily Prophet article, hoping for something more useful.

“Obliviate is the incantation for a Memory Charm, a spell that erases specific memories from an individual’s mind. It is one of the most potent and potentially dangerous spells, as it can lead to severe and permanent memory loss if used incorrectly.”

His stomach churned as he read on, the words making his anxiety worse.

“The strength of the Obliviate spell depends on the caster, and in some cases, it can destroy memory so thoroughly that a witch or wizard may lose their sense of identity.”

Theo’s heart pounded in his chest. The thought of you losing yourself completely was unbearable. He couldn’t let that happen. For both your sakes—and Harry’s—this had to be fixable.

After jotting down some notes, Theo grabbed the next book, A History of Magic, and started skimming through it. Most of the information was redundant, but then his eyes caught something that made his blood run cold.

“Reversing the effects of Obliviate is extremely difficult, if not impossible in some cases. Restoration of memories may require highly specialized magical treatment and is not always successful. Memory Charms could be broken through torture.”

Theo nearly gagged. The mere thought of you being hurt, let alone tortured, was more than he could bear. He forced himself to push those dark thoughts aside, continuing to scan the text. His eyes widened as he came across a bold warning.

“Caution: If the spell is carelessly cast, the brain will be in a delicate state. If you stress this person too much or aren’t careful when trying to restore their mind/memories, the results could be unpredictable, even leading to a complete breakdown of the mind.”

“Side effects may include headaches, fainting, vomiting, bloody noses, and/or completely losing themselves. Keep the person calm, distract them, or give them a Sleeping Draught.”

Theo’s heart seemed to stop. He’d seen you suffer from a headache earlier, and now he was certain that the spell had left you in this delicate state. Despair gnawed at him as he realized how little progress he was making. The hope of finding a safe way to restore your memories was slipping through his fingers.

Reluctantly, Theo acknowledged that he needed to tell Harry what he’d found. Your friends might make things worse if they tried to help without knowing the risks. Gathering his things, Theo abruptly stood up, leaving the mess on the table behind as he hurried out of the library. He needed to find those blithering idiots—your friends—before they unintentionally made things worse.

But as Theo stepped into the hallway, he was surprised to find the castle cloaked in darkness. Hours had slipped away unnoticed, swallowed by his mounting anxiety and frantic search for answers. The realization hit him hard—he’d spent the entire day buried in books with nothing to show for it but a sense of helplessness.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. The weight of his failure pressed down on him, but he knew he couldn’t afford to crumble now. Tomorrow, he’d have to face them—your friends. They’d have to work together, whether he liked it or not.

Theo took a deep breath, the resolve hardening within him. First thing tomorrow, Theo vowed, he’d get them involved. No matter what it took, he wouldn’t stop until everything was set right.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough. Theo barely slept, his mind too consumed with worry about you. The absence of your familiar presence beside him made the night feel endless—he longed to wake up and see your peaceful face, to trace the contours of your features like he used to. What he wouldn’t give to have that back.

He needed to reach Harry quickly; there was no time to waste. Theo jumped out of bed and dressed hurriedly, ignoring the curious glances from his dorm mates—he was never up this early. 

Bounding up the stairs to the Gryffindor entrance, he didn’t care that he irritated the portrait lady as she reluctantly let him in. Thankfully, he found Harry’s dorm room without much trouble, and quietly crept inside. Theo moved to Harry’s bed, clamping a hand over his mouth, startling him awake.

Harry jolted, wide-eyed and reaching for his wand before realizing it was Theo, which did little to ease his nerves. Theo, unbothered by Harry’s panic, rolled his eyes and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. He motioned for Harry to follow, stepping back toward the door and waiting for him to get dressed.

Once Harry left a note for Ron, the two headed out, Harry nervously trailing behind Theo. They made their way to a secluded corner of the library, where Theo suddenly stopped, causing Harry to nearly bump into him. Theo turned to face him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Things are worse than I thought, Potter,” Theo began, his tone cold. “Her condition is more fragile than we realized.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though the guilt of what he had done was eating away at him. You had always been there for him, and now, because of him, you were suffering.

“Because you didn’t mean to cast the spell on her, it left her mind in a delicate state,” Theo explained, barely containing his frustration. “We can’t let anything stress her out. The side effects could be devastating, and we could lose her completely if we don’t handle this right.”

Harry nodded, already sensing where this conversation was headed. Despite the tension between them, he knew they had no choice but to work together. “What do we do?”

Theo sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know yet, but what I do know is that I’m the only thing missing from her memories. We need to keep researching.”

“We should tell the others too,” Harry suggested, realizing the importance of getting everyone on the same page.

Theo agreed, though with a note of urgency. “You go get them. I needed to talk to you first before they start interrupting.”

As Harry left to gather Ron and Hermione, Theo stepped out into the corridor, his nerves on edge. It had been two days since he last had a cigarette, and the stress was getting to him. He pulled one out, lit it, and inhaled deeply, letting the familiar sensation calm him as the cool morning air brushed against his face.

His thoughts drifted to you—how you’d always hold your breath when he smoked, jokingly scolding him but never actually asking him to quit. You hated the smell, but you’d still kiss him if he asked. The memory brought a small, bittersweet smile to his face.

As he spotted the trio approaching out of the corner of his eye, Theo sighed and flicked the cigarette out the window.

“So, what does this tosser want?” Ron muttered as they neared. Ron had never liked Theo, always suspecting he had ulterior motives with you.

Theo rolled his eyes. “I’m here to make sure you lot don’t make things worse,” he retorted.

Ron glared at him, ready to snap back, but Hermione quickly intervened. “You mean Trouble?” she asked, concern clear in her voice.

Theo bristled at the nickname—he always found it annoying and unoriginal. “Who else?” he replied, irritation seeping into his tone. “You have to keep her calm. There are too many risks involved, and we can’t afford to make her condition worse.”

“How do we fix it?” Hermione asked, her worry for you evident.

“We don’t know yet,” Harry admitted, “but we can’t stress Trouble out, while we figure it out.”

Theo added, his voice firm, “If she starts to realize she’s lost memories, don’t tell her what they are—especially not about me. She doesn’t remember anything about us, only what came before. If you spring it on her, it could be catastrophic.”

“Why should she remember you anyway? I’d say that’s a win, don’t you think?” Ron sneered, a smirk playing on his lips.

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly stepped in front of Ron, blocking Theo from moving closer. “He’s joking! We’re going to fix this,” Harry assured, trying to defuse the situation.

Theo’s jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his temper in check. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, and rolled his head to the side before continuing.

He explained the potential side effects, what to watch out for, and how to keep you calm if a situation arose. They agreed to meet regularly throughout the week to share their findings and come up with a plan.

With everything said, the trio left Theo standing in the hallway as they headed back to the Great Hall—and to you.

Theo watched them go, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a stone. As much as he disliked relying on Harry and his friends, he knew they were all you had now. And if they didn’t handle this right, it could ruin everything.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he tried to clear his thoughts. He needed to stay focused, to keep his head straight if they were going to find a solution. There was no room for mistakes, no second chances. They had to get this right or lose you forever.

If you enjoyed, please reblog or comment! Your words keep me motivated to write.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[sugaryplum]

our sweater

pairing: theodore nott x reader (didn't use any pronouns or looks description) summary: it's the third of december and sweaters look better on the floor. warnings: sexy times briefly mentioned, language mistakes. the obviously referenced song is out in the universe in this, so you could stretch it to be a modern!au? this is mostly just dialogue, i should just start writing movie scripts or something. writing dialogues is my favourite thing in the world. + you guys seemed to like it last time hehe <3 notes: it is not the third of december. but how dare you bring it up. oh and i’m back, sorry i disappeared for a month? i was busy doing literally nothing.

“so when are you gonna give me that sweater?” you’re laying upside down on theo’s bed, legs up against the wall. he doesn’t even look up from the desk, just muttering a quiet “what?” your way.

“it’s the third of december.” to your satisfaction, he turns his chair to face you. or at least your body, bent in the weird pose out of boredom. you’re not sure if his confused expression is because of that, or because of the the sweater question out of nowhere. either way, you smile and start singing, slightly off key, with a closed fist close to your mouth to imitate a microphone. “i still remember the third of december! me and your sweater, you said it looked better…”

“it does look better on you.” you’re interrupted.

you tilt your head slightly. “obviously.”

after a second or two, he smirks, you can almost see his teeth. “i wonder how it’d look on my floor.” the words are quiet, muffled with a chuckle. you raise your eyebrows in disbelief and turn your head to him, silent, amused.

“i do have a lot of floor space…” he starts again.

your eye roll is an enough of an answer.

“i think your sweater would look great on it.”

“oh, so it’s my sweater now?” you grin, looking almost proud of yourself for catching the word. it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

“when it ends up on my floor it will be mine again.”

“so end up on your floor shall not.”

“it will, eventually.” his legs move from the floor and cross, stretched out on the edge of the bed. you look at the ceiling for a second, and then at him again. “so the question is how?”

“in many ways it could happen…”

“do enlighten me.”

he sighs and pauses. “me removing the sweater for example.”

“removing it from me?”

“yes.”

“it’s getting interesting.” you shift in your place, completely changing the position. your legs are stretched out in front of you, your ankles laying on theo’s calves. “what then?”

“i would put it on my floor.” he says matter–of–factly. when you chuckle, he adds. “and you would get cold.” you nod. his eyes are locked in yours and after a pause, his squint slightly. “i like it when you’re cold. makes you rely on me.”

you chuckle, raising your eyebrows again. “it’s good this year’s winter is quite warm.”

“then it's lucky i turned down the heating. hope you can manage.”

you laugh out loud this time. he laughs too. when laughs turn to smiles, still looking at each other, you take a moment to appreciate his face. noticing every pretty detail, every part of his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his lips. his expression, you rarely see him looking at anyone or anything else like this.

you sigh with a smile. “i like our sweater.”

“our?”

“you called it mine. and i don’t see it on your floor. but i’m willing to call it ours, as a compromise. look how good of a soul i am.”

“the sweater is mine. i meant i allowed you to wear it.”

“so why do i not have it now? it’s the third of december, need i remind you.”

he sighs and bents down, far to the side, refusing to leave the chair. he reaches his wardrobe, barely, and takes out a brown sweater. before you process, it’s thrown at you. you just know he aimed at your head, messing up your hair on purpose.

it’s slightly crumpled, but it smells like him, so you don’t mind. you would never mind.

you put it on, smiling proudly, goal accomplished. he rolls his eyes and breaks a smile.

[riddleriddles]

ෆ i should hate you

ෆ theodore theo nott x reader (without a specific house)

ෆ summary: The one in which theodore pushes you away but you can’t lose your feelings for him.

ෆ warnings: google english, angst (im not really good at it)

ෆ notes: I think this also goes a lot with CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS from ts, but i guess im going to make another one for this song, and also i just found out that im the worst for dialogues, just like in real life

𖦹

It was late August when theo decided that you were too much for him, that he decided that your relationship could not continue when you deserved more than he had to offer. So, after a few weeks distancing himself from you and letting his own mind erase the good memories and being corrupted with insecurities, he asked you in a note in a shared class of potions.

“Astronomy tower at 10 after dinner?” It was what it said on the piece of parchment, I didn’t need a signature for you to know who it was.

As the astronomy tower was a place of yours, where you spent time and time lying together, admiring the stars, the constellations and only the presence of each other, you didn’t think much about it, went up to the astronomy tower after dinner, where you found the familiar figure of your boyfriend.

There he was, leaning against one of the iron handrails, his half wavy hair with some natural blonde lights falling on his face making a light shadow in his eyes, he does not look up when he hears steps approaching.

“Hi theo...” you whisper softly, leaning next to him on the handrail, looking into his eyes while his gaze avoids finding yours, he has an blank and distant face, if maybe you paid more attention, you could see the guilt he felt for doing what he was doing.

With these last weeks that he has pushed you away you can’t help but wonder if something had happened, maybe something happened to his father, maybe it’s the tests that are approaching, or he may just be quiet these days, by the way, it’s theo, he likes his own space sometimes, you thought. You and Theo loved each other very much, you loved him, and you thought he loved you too, so the breakup didn’t even cross your mind when he sent you that piece of parchment.

“Hi...” he says, a low and hoarse tone, as if he hadn’t spoken for some time, his eyes never found yours.

Theo felt his own stomach turn with anxiety, he couldn’t let it shine through, you knew him so well that he knew that any misstep you would find out that something was wrong.

After some time, in a comfortable silence from his point of view and almost deafening in theo's, he said the words he spent so much time rehearsing on his own head.

“I think we should break up.”

The words hit you right, you even thought you could have heard wrong, no, you had certainly heard it wrong, theo didn’t want to break up, he loved you, and you hadn’t done anything wrong.

“What...?” You whispered almost inaudible, discredited that you had even heard that phrase, but when he didn’t answer and turned his head to the opposite side of your face, to avoid your look, you knew you heard it right and then you realized that your relationship was over.

“I don’t think we should keep going... I...” he whispered, feeling a ball of guilt forming at the tip of his own stomach, he couldn’t look into your eyes, he couldn’t risk giving up and telling you the truth. “I don’t think it’s going to work.”

Theo can feel your gaze on him, begging him for a reason, maybe for a laugh explaining the dull joke, he knew you wouldn’t let him go without him really hurting you.

“I don’t feel the same for you anymore, you should go..”

You stepped back, suddenly all the words had disappeared from your mind, not knowing how to act or what to say, you were never very confrontational, suddenly your love is no longer there, feeling the emotions so strong hitting at once, leaving you embarrassed in front of him, when he couldn’t even look into your eyes, you left the astronomy tower as quickly as possible.

The next few weeks were difficult, spent with ice cream, romantic comedies and a lot of tears, especially when you needed to see him in the halls, and sitting on the other side of the classroom, so to avoid him, you started to avoid meals together, delaying your own routine just not having to face him, you started to go down later to the great hall at breakfast and dinner time, when he had already left, avoiding the same halls and especially the places that were previously marked as your places, such as the astronomy tower, for example.

You waited for time to heal you but it wasn’t quite like that, the only thing you could do was disguise your emotions, pretending to forget the moments together, and then went back to the meals at the right times and almost didn’t look for him in the halls anymore, or did it discreetly.

Theo was getting worse and worse, whenever he saw you avoiding passing by his side in the corridors his heart sank and the guilt hit him all over again, and thinking it couldn’t get worse, he literally wanted to be buried alive when he realized that you were forgetting about him, that you didn’t even care about passing next to him anymore, that you didn’t even realize that you had passed next to him.

“You should talk to her, she likes you and I’m sure you deserve to be together...” said theo’s friend, blaise, while they were sitting in the communal room, for him theo was visibly downcast and it’s been a while since he saw the friend so melancholic it didn’t make sense for him to break up with you to be crying in the corners, theo didn’t use to open up to many people, but he trusted blaise enough to let him know what was bothering him. “you’re keeping her and yourself away from the one you love, that’s not fair.”

Theo thought too much about his friend’s words, but he never felt brave enough to come back to you and tell you the truth, he thought you had already given up on him and that it was better that way.

But he was pulling his own limits, and could no longer bury his own feelings when he was sitting on a bench in the courtyard accompanied by his friends, and from afar he heard your laugh, maybe it was the desire he felt to hear your voice again that made him realize the laughter among the other sounds of the place.

He turned his head abruptly in the direction just to wish he hadn’t turned when he saw you accompanied by another boy, a gryffindor boy, passing by while you put a lock of hair behind your ear and laughed at something that the blonde in red and black robes said.

Theodore felt the jealousy invade him, who did this gryffindor think was supposed to make you laugh like that? Did he think he deserved your smiles? Who did he think it was to at least get close to his girlfriend? he thought, but you were no longer his girlfriend, he had broken up with you and had hurt you, so now you probably wanted to be there, walking with that other boy and there is nothing he could do about it.

Watching you bend the corridors and get out of his sight he felt that the right thing was to let you go, he couldn’t be so selfish to the point of holding you up with him, when you deserved much more than he had, but he wasn’t ready, he couldn’t, he didn’t have the courage he thought he would have, he wanted to be selfish, no matter how too good you were for him, he wanted to keep you around and never push you away again, he wanted to intertwine your fingers and never see you cry again, much less for himself like that night, stupid, it was what he was, that’s how he saw himself now, a fool for thinking he could see you moving forward and it was the purest foolishness to think that he could move on himself.

So he finally decided to listen to his friends and go after you, without warning anyone he got up from the bank quickly,his friends looked at him curious, but used to theo’s behavior, they just shrugged.

Theodore followed in your footsteps and bent the corridor to find you this time alone caressing an orange kitten while he saw a little far away the gryffindor with his back distancing himself, he approached shyly, with his hands in his pocket and without making any noise.

You just realized that you were in the presence of someone when you looked at the shoes stopping by your side and recognized them as your ex-boyfriend’s, feeling your throat dry your hand fell from the kitten who was upset by the lack of affection and came down from where it was leaving you and him alone, it took you a few more seconds thinking until you raised your head slowly to look at him.

“Nott.” you said shy trying to sound firm, your gaze deviating from his, it was difficult to see him so close after so long, you wanted to hate him so much, you really wanted to push and yell at him, ask why he had done that, what you had done wrong for him not to love you anymore and he felt a bitter taste in his mouth when he heard his own surname come out of his lips, feeling as if that name did not belong to him, you should call him theo, my love, dear, that didn’t feel right.

“Don’t call me that...” he asked, his voice was distant but he still missed and sad, but it wasn’t enough for you to realize, you made fun of his words and crossed your arms.

“What do you want?” You asked firmly but still avoiding his gaze, you took a step back by moving away from him, he clenched his jaw to the sign of your rejection his heart sink again, the feeling becoming familiar.

“I want to... apologize, for that night...” he said in a low tone, looking at his own feet as if he felt guilty and ashamed, that’s certainly not what you expected, coming out of the defensive mode you lowered your arms.

“Apologize?”

“I was an idiot, I pushed you away for a stupid reason” he was visibly sorry, he took a step towards your, you don’t back down this time.

“yes, you were really an idiot,” you said and crossed your arms again, your eyes went up to look at theirs, he couldn’t stand it, your glassy eyes looking back at him, he just wanted to crush his own lips against yours. “were you lying that night? When did you say you didn’t love me anymore?”

“i was” he admitted quickly with a positive nod. “it was a lie, it was all a lie, I think I let my insecurities speak louder and I ended up thinking that the best idea was to push you away, i’m sorry.”

Suddenly, the nights you spent crying no longer made sense, you felt angry with him for push you away, and thinking that if you knew you would have done everything to prove to him that he was the one who deserved the whole world.

“Do you know how stupid you are!? I thought I had done something wrong!” you exclaimed getting closer to him, he held your face with both hands as if he were going to kiss you, you felt your eyes filling with tears of frustration and he could see them being formed in the corner of your eyes, mentally cursing himself for making you cry again.

“I know! I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m just me and you’re so... everything, and you deserve everything, and I thought maybe I could let you go for it, but I can’t, I see it now, I promise I’ll do everything to give you what you deserve, I promise, please bella, forgive me.”

A single tear fell down your cheek with the statement, a few seconds in silence was enough for you to think, no matter how frustrated you were with him, the desire to love him again was always stronger.

“You’re dumb.” you said quietly, he nodded.

You held his face pulling him down and finally crushed his lips on yours, he squeezed his eyes and let his hand out of your face, now it was in the air and he didn’t know where to put it, the kiss that overflowed the longing and love you felt for each other, it was calm and slow, no hurry after spending so much time waiting, his hand finally fell to your waist, fitting perfectly, he remembered that.

then you pushed your lips away, he still brushed his own lip on yours as if he were silently asking for more, you smiled against his lips when you realized it.

“Never push me away like this again, I love you and you are more than I could ask for”

[yua0ra]

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲

WARNINGS: theatrelover!theo x cinemalover!fem!reader, sex, porn with plot, semi-public sex, p in v, raw, cursing, hot, fingering, NSFW, english is not my first language. not proofread | minors please dni. smut 🂡

SUMMARY: In the cool of the evening, when everything is getting kind of groovy, you call me up and ask me: would I like to go with you and see a movie? First I say "No, Ive got some plans for tonight." But then I stop and say "All right".

WC: 6.3K AN: HAHAHAH finally, after what it seemed like a fucking eternity, I bring you... Theodore SMUT. Everyone say thank you! JK, enjoy it, you whore. <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

Theodore Nott had an insufferable, borderline pretentious love for contemporary theatre. He would wax poetic about the brilliance of Jez Butterworth, the raw grit of Simon Stephens, and the immersive absurdity of Caryl Churchill. You, on the other hand, were a cinephile at heart—Tarantino’s razor-sharp dialogue, Scorsese’s masterful character studies, Nolan’s intricate narratives. You could analyze Pulp Fiction’s non-linear structure just as easily as you could tear apart The Wolf of Wall Street’s moral ambiguity.

Despite your differences, you both had an undeniable appreciation for storytelling—whether on stage or on screen. And naturally, that appreciation often turned into petty arguments.

"You can’t tell me The Ferryman isn’t one of the best pieces of theatre in the last decade," Theo scoffed one day, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please. Jez is just doing modern-day Greek tragedy with a sprinkle of Irish drama. It’s compelling, sure, but it’s not reinventing the wheel."

Theo narrowed his eyes. "And what, you think Tarantino’s constant foot fetish and non-linear storytelling is revolutionary?"

"At least Tarantino has mastered the art of tension," you shot back. "The Sicilian scene in True Romance? The diner scene in Reservoir Dogs? You don’t need an elaborate set change or monologues drenched in metaphor—you just need two people in a room and a damn good script."

"That’s rich coming from someone who praises Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller—two of the most dialogue-heavy playwrights in existence."

Your friends groaned. They were used to this. You and Theo could argue for hours over narrative devices, symbolism, and whether theatre or cinema was the superior storytelling medium.

But one afternoon, during an extracurricular drama lesson, the argument escalated to a level that left everyone in the room speechless.

The class was discussing adaptations—how literature, theatre, and film intertwined.

Theo, ever the theatrical purist, argued, “Plays allow for the rawest human emotion. There are no camera tricks, no fancy editing—just an actor on stage, exposed. That’s why theatre will always have a deeper emotional impact than cinema.”

You weren’t about to let that slide. “That’s a wildly limited way of thinking. Film is just as much a visual art as it is a narrative one. Sure, theatre relies on the performer’s ability to hold an audience, but film can show a character’s internal struggle without a single word of dialogue. A glance, a shift in lighting—those subtle details can hit just as hard as a monologue.”

Theo tilted his head, amused. “Alright, then. A Streetcar Named Desire—would you rather see it on stage or in Elia Kazan’s adaptation?”

You smirked. “Kazan’s adaptation is brilliant, but you’re proving my point. The film version utilizes Marlon Brando’s raw, visceral performance while also using close-ups, sound design, and visual metaphors to enhance it. Theatre is powerful, but it’s limited by its medium. Film has more tools.”

The tension in the room thickened as you both volleyed back and forth—citing everything from Angels in America to Taxi Driver, from Arthur Miller’s The Crucible to Nolan’s Memento.

By the time you both stopped to take a breath, the rest of the class was staring at you like they had just witnessed an academic duel to the death.

Blaise, looking mildly concerned, muttered, “I think you two just argued in a language no one else speaks.” Pansy blinked and slowly nodded her head, “did you just name-drop fifteen different playwrights and directors in the span of five minutes?”

Draco, unimpressed, simply said, “I came here to watch people pretend to be trees, not to witness whatever that was.”

You and Theo exchanged a look. And, despite everything, a slow grin spread across both your faces. Because for all the arguing, all the differences, and all the passionate debates—you loved every second of it.

- ★、

The weekend had finally arrived, and with it, your much-anticipated cinema trip. It wasn’t every day you got to slip away from the castle, apparate to London, and immerse yourself in the warm glow of a dimly lit theatre, the smell of buttered popcorn thick in the air. Tonight’s screening? A Tarantino classic—Inglourious Basterds. You were practically buzzing with excitement as you stepped into the theatre, savoring the moment before the film began.

And then you saw him.

Theodore. Bloody. Nott.

Leaning against the concession stand, hands in his pockets, looking as if he belonged in some noir film with his perfectly tailored coat and unimpressed expression. His sharp gaze flicked over to you, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, well,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Didn’t peg you for the type to sneak off to London alone for a late-night film screening. How rebellious.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t strike me as the type to appreciate Tarantino. What are you doing here, Theo?”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What, am I not allowed to expand my horizons? Maybe I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, please. You’ve spent weeks slandering film in favor of theatre, and now you suddenly show up to a Tarantino movie of all things?”

Theo hummed thoughtfully, stepping closer, so close that the scent of his cologne—expensive and frustratingly good—filled your senses. “Maybe,” he mused, “I just enjoy riling you up.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was betraying you with its traitorous thump against your ribs. “Right. So you apparated to London, found this exact cinema, and happened to pick the same showing as me? Coincidence?”

His smirk deepened. “Perhaps.”

Before you could interrogate him further, the theatre doors opened, and people started filing inside. You exhaled, shaking your head. “You know what? I don’t care why you’re here. Just—don’t ruin the film for me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, trailing after you.

You found your seat, sinking into the plush velvet, determined to ignore the fact that Theodore Nott had somehow ended up in the seat directly beside you. He stretched out, looking infuriatingly at ease, as if this hadn’t been some grand invasion of your sacred cinema time.

And then, as the lights dimmed and the first scene flickered onto the screen, Theo leaned in—just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear.

“If this film doesn’t impress me,” he whispered, “you owe me a ticket to the next play I pick.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze, and smirked. “Fine. But when you inevitably love it, you’re admitting I was right.”

Theodore just chuckled, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest. “We’ll see.”

As the film unfolded on the screen, you found yourself hyperaware of Theodore’s presence beside you. It was ridiculous, really—how could one person occupy so much space without actually moving? 

His elbow rested dangerously close to yours on the armrest, his long legs stretched out in that careless way he always sat, as if the entire world was his to lounge in. 

You tried to focus on the movie, on the tense exchange between Landa and Perrier LaPadite, but Theo shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours, and suddenly, every bit of dialogue seemed to drown beneath the sound of your own heartbeat.

You weren’t sure when it happened—when the push and pull of your debates, the sharp edge of your banter, had morphed into something more charged, something that left a static hum in the air between you. 

Maybe it had always been there, simmering beneath every eye roll, every challenge, every smirk that lasted a second too long. And now, sitting here in the dim glow of the theatre, with flickering light casting shadows across his annoyingly perfect features, it was impossible to ignore.

Halfway through the film, Theo leaned in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Alright, I’ll admit it. The dialogue is brilliant.”

You smirked, keeping your eyes trained on the screen. “Told you.”

His fingers tapped idly against the armrest, a steady, maddening rhythm. “Still doesn’t mean it’s better than theatre.”

You turned your head slightly, lips curving in amusement. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Theo tilted his face toward you, his voice dropping lower, smoother. “Because film lets you hide. Close-ups, cuts, music—it manipulates how you feel. Theatre? It’s raw. No second takes. No distractions.” His eyes flickered over your face, lingering just a moment too long on your lips. “You can’t escape it.”

A shiver ran down your spine, though whether it was from his words or the way his voice curled around them, you weren’t entirely sure. You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus. “You call it hiding. I call it perspective. The camera lets you see things no audience member ever could—something intimate, something only you get to witness.”

Theo hummed, considering that. The tension between you had shifted into something heavier, something that pressed into the space between breaths. He was still close, close enough that you could catch the faintest scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from where his arm rested near yours. It would be so easy to lean in just a little more, to close that final inch between you.

And then, just as you were about to force yourself to sit back, to pretend none of this was affecting you, he moved.

Slow, deliberate. His fingers brushed against the back of your hand, the touch featherlight, testing. Your breath hitched, your pulse hammering against your ribs, but you didn’t pull away. Theo, ever perceptive, took that as permission, his fingers shifting, tracing the delicate curve of your wrist.

“You’re… mad, Theo. You’re out of your mind,” you murmured, barely aware you had spoken the words aloud.

His lips quirked, but there was something darker in his gaze now, something that sent heat curling low in your stomach. “That’s right…,” he murmured, his fingers sliding between yours, “but you’re too, you haven’t moved.”

You knew you should say something—should tease him, should act unaffected—but all logic had abandoned you the moment his hand fully curled around yours. The room around you had disappeared, the film reduced to a distant hum in the background.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Theo lifted your intertwined hands, brushing his lips against the inside of your wrist. It was barely a kiss—more of a ghost of one—but it sent a shiver straight down your spine, igniting something electric in your veins.

Your breath hitched. “Theo—”

“I know,” he murmured, voice impossibly low, as if he was reading every thought racing through your mind. His thumb traced slow, teasing circles over your palm, his lips still hovering dangerously close to your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t.

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head slightly toward him, meeting his gaze through the dim flicker of the screen. “What if I don’t want to?”

His smirk deepened, but there was something softer there, something almost unreadable. For a moment, he just looked at you, as if memorizing every detail, before he finally whispered, “Then we might have a problem.”

And the worst part?

You wanted to find out just how much of a problem it could be.

The world outside of your little bubble had disappeared completely—the film playing on the screen, the murmur of the other audience members, the distant rustling of popcorn bags—it all faded into nothing. All that remained was Theodore, his touch burning into your skin, the weight of his gaze heavy as it flickered down to your lips.

His hand tightened ever so slightly around yours, his thumb tracing the delicate skin of your wrist, and you swore you felt your heartbeat stutter. There was something unbearably patient about the way he was looking at you, like he was waiting—waiting for you to pull away, to scoff and shove him off, to turn this into just another one of your never-ending debates. But you didn’t move.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, the warmth between you growing thick, heavy. Your noses brushed—barely, just a whisper of contact—but it sent something electric crackling through your veins.

Theo exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath. His voice was nothing more than a murmur, just for you. “You’re really not stopping me.”

You smirked, fingers tightening slightly around his. “I thought you liked risks.”

His lips caught yours in the next breath, slow at first—just a soft, testing press, as if he wasn’t entirely sure this was real. But then you sighed against his mouth, tilting your head slightly, and finally leaned in.

Theo let go of whatever restraint he had left. His free hand came up to cradle your jaw, fingers pressing gently beneath your ear as he deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second.

He tasted faintly of Italian summer and something richer, something entirely him. His touch was both careful and possessive, like he was memorizing the shape of you beneath his fingertips. You felt yourself melt into it, the heat between you intensifying, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You barely noticed the way his thumb brushed over your cheek, the way he tilted your chin just slightly to kiss you deeper. Everything about it was intoxicating—the way he moved, the way he swallowed the quiet little sigh that escaped you, the way his fingers flexed against your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

Somewhere in the background, the movie continued playing—gunfire, sharp dialogue, the rise of a dramatic score—but it all blurred into nothing. All you could focus on was Theo, on the way he was kissing you like he’d been waiting for this, like he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance.

When he finally, reluctantly, pulled away, his lips barely ghosting over yours, you were both breathless. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his fingers still cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing absent patterns over your skin.

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze. His pupils were blown, his lips slightly parted, and for the first time, Theodore Nott looked entirely, devastatingly undone.

A slow, lazy smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “Well,” he murmured, voice slightly rough. “I suppose I owe Tarantino some credit after all.”

You let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes. “Unbelievable.”

He chuckled, fingers trailing down the side of your throat, as if he wasn’t quite ready to stop touching you yet. “Admit it,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You liked that more than the film.”

You hummed, pretending to consider. “Jury’s still out.”

Theo smirked, his lips brushing yours again in a featherlight kiss, like a silent promise. “Then I guess I’ll just have to convince you.”

And as he pulls you back into another kiss, slow and deep and utterly devastating, you realise with absolute certainty—you were in trouble.

Theodore's hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his lips moving with an urgency that steals your breath. He pulls you closer, eliminating any remaining distance between your bodies, his heart hammering against his ribs. 

His other hand splays across your lower back, pressing you flush against him as the kiss grows more heated, more demanding. He nips at your lower lip, his tongue soothing the sting before delving back into your mouth, stroking along yours in a dance that leaves you breathless. The cinema, the other people, the movie - it all disappears. There is only the two of you, lost in the passion of this stolen moment. 

When Theodore finally breaks the kiss, you're both left panting, your chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering open to gaze into yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. “Fuck..." he breathes, his voice ragged with desire.

And then, an act on impulse, a surge of primal instinct driving him. In one swift, fluid motion, he reaches under your thighs and lifts you effortlessly, settling you straddled on his lap. The sudden change in position startles you both, but the shock quickly melts into a shiver of pleasure as you feel the hard, muscular length of his thighs beneath you. 

The cinema has long since faded from your awareness; now there is only the two of you, the heat building between your bodies, the electricity crackling in the air. 

Theodore's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh almost hard enough to bruise as he holds you in place. Your chest is pressed against his, and you can feel the pounding of his heart, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. 

His eyes are dark, almost black in the dim light, blazing into yours with an intensity that makes your own pulse race. "Darling," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rumble. His hands move again up your back, one tangling in your hair while the other cups the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing, desperate kiss. 

The kiss is a clash of lips and tongues, a dance of passion and pent-up longing. It's a kiss that speaks of a hunger, a need, a desperation that can no longer be contained. Theodore kisses you like a man starved, like he is trying to devour you, to consume you, to make you a part of him.

Red faced, messy hair, you look up at him. “Sh-shit Theo, we shouldn’t be doing this here.” You quietly giggled.

Theodore chuckles softly at your giggle, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn't stop his ministrations, his hands still roaming your curves with a familiar confidence. 

But he does lean back slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

"Shh, shh, bella, what's the matter? Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now..." he teases, his voice a low murmur meant only for your ears. 

"We're just two lovers, lost in the moment. Surely there's no harm in that?" His hand slides from your hip to your thigh, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow circles on your skin. Your breath hitches at the touch, a fresh wave of goosebumps erupting across your flesh.

Theodore's eyes darken with lust as he feels your hips squirming against him, your plush rear rubbing against his hardening cock through the fabric of his trousers. 

A low, guttural groan escapes his lips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. His other hand slides up your side, his fingertips skimming the side of your breast, teasing you with the promise of his touch. 

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your flesh. "Gorgeous, you feel what you do to me, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a low, husky growl. 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach as your grip tightened on his coat. The way he spoke, all dark velvet and wicked amusement, made your head spin. You did feel it—the tension thrumming between you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the way his fingers ghosted over your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you. And Merlin, it was driving you insane.

Your breath hitched as you shifted against him, creating more friction, desperate for anything to relieve the ache building inside you. His sharp inhale, the barely restrained groan against your throat, sent a rush of satisfaction through you.

"Fuck," Theo muttered, his lips grazing the delicate skin beneath your jaw. "You're dangerous."

A breathy laugh escaped you, but it was cut short as he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. His nose skimmed along the column of your throat before he pressed an open-mouthed kiss there, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the way you trembled against him.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, lips brushing against your pulse point. "Arguing with you, watching you get all worked up—Merlin—and now this?" His teeth grazed your skin, not quite biting, just enough to make your breath stutter. "Gorgeous, you have no idea how long I've wanted this."

His confession sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you couldn't help the way your hips rolled against his, seeking more of the delicious friction he so easily provided. His hands gripped you tighter, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

Theo let out a strained chuckle, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something dangerous. "If you keep doing that, sweetheart," he murmured, voice thick with desire, "I'm going to forget we're in a bloody cinema."

The thought sent a thrill through you, but you knew he was right. The dim glow of the screen cast flickering shadows across his sharp features, but the reality of your surroundings was quickly slipping away, drowned out by the intoxicating heat between you.

You licked your lips, breathless. "Then maybe you should."

Theo stilled for a fraction of a second, his fingers flexing against your waist. And then—Merlin, then—his lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

"Brilliant idea, darling," he purred.

And before you could second-guess yourself, before the haze of lust could fade, Theo was back at it again, with more force and more desire.

Theodore's hand cups your breast fully now, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your hardened nipple through the thin material of your shirt. His lips trail up your neck, pausing to nip and suck at your pulse point before moving to your ear. 

"I want to bend you over the back of this seat and fuck you until you scream, until the entire cinema knows who you belong to," he whispers, his voice rough with need. 

"I want to make you come on my cock again and again until you're begging me to stop, until you're completely and utterly satisfied..." His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your skirt, teasing the sensitive skin just above where you crave his touch most. 

Theodore's eyes blaze into yours, filled with a hunger and a desperation that makes your core clench with anticipation. "But I suppose I can be patient, for now," he murmurs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

"After all, the anticipation, the build-up, the waiting... it's all part of the thrill, isn't it? Knowing that I could take you right here, right now, but choosing not to... for now." 

He pulls you into another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, consuming you, until you're left breathless and wanting. 

When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, a wicked glint in his eye. "Tell me," he murmurs, his voice a low, sinful purr. "What do you want, my clever little witch?”

“N-no, Theo.” You blush, feeling hot. “I’m too turned on, I’ll be quiet I promise.” 

Theodore's eyes flash with triumph and desire at your breathless, needy words. A smug, satisfied smirk spreads across his handsome face as he realizes the effect he's having on you. 

His hand slides further down, his fingers brushing against your clothed sex, feeling the damp heat radiating through the fabric. "Mmm, is that so, pretty?" he murmurs, his voice a low, husky purr. 

"You want me to fuck you, right here, right now, don't you? Want me to slip my hard, aching cock inside your tight, wet little cunt until you're screaming my name?" His fingers rub slow, teasing circles over your clothed clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm and whimper with need. 

Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice dripping with sinful promise. "I promise, I'll make it worth it. I'll fuck you so hard and so good that you'll forget where we are, and every single time, that you watch this movie, you will only see me.” 

His other hand slides up your shirt, pushing the fabric out of the way to expose your heaving breasts. He cups the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing them, his thumbs and forefingers pinching and tugging at your hardened nipples. 

"You just need to be a good girl and stay quiet for me, understand? No matter how much you want to scream, no matter how much you want to cry out in ecstasy, you need to stay silent. Think you can do that, tesoro?" Theodore's eyes blaze into yours, filled with a hunger and a desperation that makes your core clench with anticipation. 

His hand slips beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal. 

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Are you ready for me to fuck you like you've never been fucked before, right here, right now, in front of all these unsuspecting people?”

Theodore takes your silent nod as the consent it is, his eyes darkening with a new wave of lust and desire. 

His hand slips further beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your slick, bare folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his skin. With a low, guttural groan, he pushes two fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. 

He pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, his palm pressing against your clit with each thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body. Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Shit, you're so fucking wet. So ready for my cock, aren't you? I can feel your greedy little cunt sucking me in, begging to be filled..." 

His other hand still up your shirt, pushes the fabric of your bra out of the way completely. He leans down, taking the stiff peak into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you're writhing against him, barely able to stay silent. 

Thank Merlin, you guys are in the last row, and the cinema’s loud speakers consume the room, the attention of the silent watchers move away from you both, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Theodore's hands on your body, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping sex, his mouth on your breast. 

You can feel the hard, thick length of his cock pressing against your ass, the evidence of his own desperate arousal. Theodore's hand slides from your breast to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he grinds his hips against yours, the rough fabric of his trousers rubbing against your sensitive flesh. 

He captures your lips in a searing, desperate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, consuming you. 

"Mmh... please Teddy." You can't hold it in. It's been too long, he's teasing too much. "Hurry up so we can get the hell out."

Noticing your discomfort, and your inability to stay fucking quiet, Theodore’s eyes widen briefly at your plea, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He chuckles softly, a low, sinful sound that sends a shiver down your spine. 

His fingers continue their relentless assault on your dripping pussy, pumping in and out, curling against that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl and your back arch. "Mmm, so eager, aren't you beautiful?" he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing purr. 

"So desperate for my cock, so hungry for me to fill you up, to make you mine..." 

He nips at your lower lip, his teeth tugging on the tender flesh, before soothing the sting with his tongue. His hand slides from your neck to your hip, gripping the curve possessively. "Very well, my love. I suppose we can finish the movie another time… too bad we couldn’t do it in here.” 

Theodore's voice is low and rough with desire as he slowly withdraws his fingers from your dripping sex. You whimper at the loss, your body aching to be filled, to be stretched and used. He stands abruptly, pulling you up with him. 

With deft, practiced movements, he straightens your skirt and shirt, making you presentable once more. Taking your hand in his, he leads you quickly and quietly out of the cinema, weaving through the darkened aisles until you reach the emergency exit at the back. 

Pushing open the door, Theodore pulls you into the cool night air, the stars twinkling above you in the inky black sky. He doesn't stop until he finds a secluded spot behind a tall hedgerow, hidden from view of the cinema and the buzzing streets of London. 

Turning to face you, Theodore pulls you flush against him, his hands gripping your hips with hands that you knew would leave a mark. 

He connects both your mouths, hurriedly, impatient to fuck you good.

He groans into your mouth, his tongue delving deep, stroking along yours, tasting you, consuming you. His hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing the firm globes before lifting you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

 He carries you a few steps further, until your back is pressed against the rough bark of a sturdy brick wall. 

Breaking the kiss, Theodore leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his own blazing with a hunger and a desperation that makes your heart race. 

He reaches down with one hand, fumbling briefly with the fastenings of his trousers before freeing his aching cock. It springs forth, shiny and veiny and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with precum. 

He strokes himself once, twice, hissing at the sensation, before gripping your thigh and positioning himself at your entrance. "Tell me, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough growl. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you need my cock inside you, filling you, claiming you, making you mine. Say it, cara mia..." He rubs the head of his cock teasingly against your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. 

His other hand slides up your jaw, cupping your face, his thumb playing with your swollen pouty lips. His eyes bore into yours, filled with a desperate, aching need. The cool night air kisses your skin, but the heat building between your bodies is scorching, all consuming.

Theodore's chest heaves with each ragged breath, his heart pounding against his ribs. He's waiting for your consent, your permission, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. 

With a sudden, sharp thrust, he sheaths himself inside you, burying his thick, hard length deep into your tight, wet heat. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that sends shockwaves through your body. 

He starts to move, his hips rolling against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your dripping sex with long, deep strokes. “Cazzo..." Theodore grits out, his voice strained with exertion and ecstasy. "You feel exquisite, like you were made just for me. So fucking tight, so fucking perfect..." He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure. 

His hands grip your hips, pulling you down to meet his thrusts, the force of them making you shake against the hard wall.

Theodore groans at your sudden cry, the sound turning him on. He pistons his hips faster, driving into you with a newfound urgency, the force of his thrusts making the old oak tree shudder and sway around you. 

"That's it, bella," he pants, his voice a low, rough growl. "Let me hear you. I want to hear every little sound you make, every desperate plea falling from your pretty lips. Were not in there any more, don’t hold back princess…” 

One hand slides from your hip to your thigh, pushing your leg higher up his waist, opening you up to him, allowing him to delve even deeper into your tight, clenching heat. 

The other hand slides up your shirt, exposing once again your heaving breasts to the cool night air. Theodore leans down, taking one hardened nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling at the sensitive bud until you're writhing against him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair.

 He laves his tongue over the reddened flesh, soothing the sting of his bites before moving to its twin, giving it the same attention.

 All the while, he never stops his relentless assault on your pussy, his cock pounding into you with a force that steals your breath and makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

 You can feel the tension building low in your belly, the coil tightening with each thrust, each stroke, each press of his hips against yours. Theodore's hand slides between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the swollen nub. 

His touch is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "That's it, baby," he murmurs against your breast, his voice a low, sinful purr. 

"Come for me, my love. Come on my cock like the perfect little angel you are. I want to feel you…” 

Theodore feels your sex clamp down around his cock like a vice as your orgasm overtakes you. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure that echoes through the quiet night air, as your walls flutter and spasm around his throbbing length. 

He doesn't slow his thrusts, instead pounding into your quivering heat with a newfound fervor, prolonging your climax, drawing out your ecstasy. 

“Yes, yes, yes… just like that” he growls, his voice ragged and strained with his own impending release. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tightly, like you never want to let me go. I can feel your greedy little cunt trying to swallow this big dick.” 

He captures your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure, his tongue delving deep to stroke along yours, to dance and twine with yours in a lewd, filthy imitation of the act taking place below. 

His hands grip your ass, squeezing the firm globes, pulling you harder against him, burying himself impossibly deeper inside you with each powerful thrust. Theo's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles over the sensitive nub, pushing you through your climax and straight into another. 

Your body is trembling, shaking, the pleasure almost too intense to bear as he fucks you through the aftershocks, the waves of bliss crashing over you again and again. He can feel his own release building, the tension coiling at the base of his spine, his balls drawing up tight. 

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside your still fluttering sex, his cock pulsing, throbbing, as he finds his own completion. 

"Fuck, pretty, fuck!" Theodore roars, his voice echoing through the night as he starts to come, his thick, hot seed spurting deep inside you, painting your walls white. 

His hips continue to roll, grinding against yours, drawing out his orgasm, filling you up just like he promised.

 He holds you close as the waves of pleasure slowly ebb, your combined releases trickling down your thighs, marking you, claiming you, making you his. 

Theodore's heart hammers against his chest as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes locked with yours.

You felt colder now, the sharp night air finally biting at your flushed skin, but Theo barely let you move away from him. His arms were still wrapped around you, firm and possessive, as if he had no intention of letting you go just yet. And honestly? You weren’t about to complain.

Your breath came in slow, uneven pants as you tried to recover, your forehead still pressed against his. His lips curled into the ghost of a smirk, his usual arrogance softened by the post-bliss haze settling over both of you.

“Merlin,” Theo finally muttered, voice still thick and gravelly, “that was—” He exhaled, shaking his head like he couldn’t even find the words.

You let out a breathy, satisfied laugh, tilting your head to look at him. “Better than theatre?”

His lips twitched, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re really asking me that?”

You hummed, feigning nonchalance even as your body still buzzed from everything you’d just done. “Well, I mean, I know you think theatre is the peak of human artistic expression, but surely even you have to admit that was… cinematic.”

Theo let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Cinematic?”

You grinned, biting your lip. “Perfectly timed tension, intense buildup, and an unforgettable climax—I’d say we just gave Scorsese a run for his money.”

Theo groaned, tipping his head back, but you caught the way his lips twitched, like he was trying so hard not to smile. “You would turn this into a bloody film analysis.”

You shrugged, smug. “And you would turn it into a tragic, forbidden romance.”

“Obviously,” he shot back, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Star-crossed lovers, clashing ideals, unbearable tension—”

“—and a dramatic resolution that makes the audience swoon,” you added, nudging his ribs.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled you in closer. “Fine, I’ll admit it. That was—” He lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper against your ear, “—Oscar-worthy.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, pushing playfully at his chest. “You’re giving credit to film? You? Theodore Nott?”

He smirked, completely unbothered. “Even I have to admit, some performances just can’t be staged.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you finally let yourself melt into his arms, letting the cool London air wrap around you both. “Well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do now.”

He raised a brow. “And that is?”

You looked up at him, feigning seriousness. “Debrief. Proper analysis, compare our perspectives—”

“Absolutely not,” Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re insufferable.”

You grinned. “And yet, you’re still holding me.”

Theo sighed, shaking his head with an affectionate smirk. “Yeah, well… Guess I do have a weakness for a well-written story.”

His lips met yours again, soft and unhurried this time, and you couldn’t help but think—whether it was theatre or cinema, tragedy or romance—this? This was your favorite story yet.

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 9: Something fishy

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): None this chapter A/n: Did I use dialogue of Catching fire. Maybe. But that scene is so damn cute and I love it how Peeta looks at Katniss. Ugh [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

The days grow slowly less cold but wetter when the second task approaches in February. It's been weirdly quiet. No letters from your aunt or uncle and no letters from your father. You're very relieved that he hasn't written to you in such a long time. That means he is too weak, he's too occupied with something evil and nefarious, or he's dead. You highly doubt the last option.

You walk with your cousin and his friends to the dock so you can take a boat to one of the three platforms. You see Harry walk not much further from you next to Neville and you speed up, catching up.

"Hey", you say, making both boys turn towards you, "Good luck with your task. Please be safe, yeah?"

Harry nods shakingly, obviously anxious about what's to come. You reach out for his hand and give it a squeeze. "You can do this. I believe in you." You give him a small smile, hoping it gives him some sort of comfort.

"Where are Hermione and Ron, by the way?" You look around but don't spot the redhead and the brunette that's usually not far away.

"I don't know", he mumbles. "They've been gone since yesterday. McGonagall asked to talk to them and since then they haven't returned."

You frown. It's not like them to just disappear. "I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe they are a part of the task?"

Harry looks solemn towards the water. "I rather hope not."

Arriving at the boats, a hand on your waist steadies you as you step into the wooden boat. You look up and see Theodore glaring at Harry, who looks too anxious and concerned with the second task that is minutes away from happening to even bother.

The other Slytherins fill the remaining seats in the boat and you wave goodbye to Harry.

Nobody says anything but you feel the glares from around you. "What?", you snap.

"Seriously, Potter?", sneers Draco, his bottom lip curled up. "You know what I have said about fraternizing with the enemy."

You sigh, massaging your temples. "For Merlin's sake, Draco! The boy is terrified! Who knows what he is going to encounter down there. If it were you, you would already be screaming and crying to your father to put an end to the tournament."

Draco's jaw ticks but it seems to shut him up effectively. 

The boats stop at the raised platforms and you immediately get out, not accepting the outstretched hand of Theodore. Seeing your opportunity to get away, you climb the first set of iron steps to get to the top deck. There you have a nice overview of the water and the surrounding landscape.

Your head rests on your hand as you lean against the railing, waiting for the contestants to get ready to dive in the water when Theodore slides into the empty space next to you. "I've been thinking─"

"Congrats on using your brain, Theo. You didn't strain it?"

Theodore stops and looks at you with raised eyebrows. Quite perplexed.

You bite your bottom lip. You've grown too comfortable too quick at the idea of Theodore being your friend and you've overstepped boundaries. "Sorry. I've never been really good at being friends."

He smiles, obviously enjoying your little quip. "For starters, it helps when you know the person. I hardly know anything about you except that you love muggle books and that you have the most amazing smile, even though you rarely show the real thing."

The comment about your smile makes your cheeks heat up but you decided to push it down. "That about sums me up."

"There is more than that, you just don't want to tell me."

"It's like I said─"

At that moment Professor Dumbledore starts his speech to explain what the second task contains and with the sound of a cannon firing, the contestants jump into the water. Harry follows after them a couple of beats later.

Theodore leans close to you and says, "Listen, Black, how the whole friend thing works is that you have to tell each other the deep stuff."

"The deep stuff?", you whisper back, your eyes focused on the murky water.

"Like...", he glances up at the sky, "what is your favourite colour?"

Turning towards him, a smile adorning your face. "Now you've stepped over the line."

The both of you laugh. You slap a hand over your mouth and hit Theodore in an attempt to quiet him down before it attacks the attention of the people around you. 

Still smiling, Theodore props his head on his fist and says, "seriously though, what is it?"

You think for a moment. What is your favourite colour? Most of the clothing that you own is black and dark green, but that's more to blend in with the rest of your family and the Slytherin students. Your room back home is also mostly black. The only colour you can think of is-

"Pink", you decide.

It makes Theo's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Pink?" He looks perplexed. He for sure expected you to say some variating of green or something.

"Pink", you confirm. "But not old pink. More like… a tulip pink."

Theodore hums, a large smile forming on his face. "Tulip pink?"

He bursts out laughing and you push his shoulder smiling. "It's a nice colour! What is yours anyways?"

He doesn't hesitate for a moment. "Green."

"And you're critiquing my colour of choice?"

Theodore bumps against you with his shoulder. "Shut up. The Whomping Willow leaves colour nicely in spring."

One corner of your mouth twitches up and you snicker. "Whomping Willow leaves?"

The comment earns you a look from the brown-haired boy.

The first to get up to the surface is Fleur ─ who didn't finish her task ─ next is Krum, followed by Cedic. At the last minute, Harry shoots up out of the lake and lands on the platform. The crowd goes wild and you jump up and down, happy that Harry is safe and well.

The task ends with Victor getting the most points and Fleur the least, but the winners are Harry and Cedic.

There is this restlessness in your body, going down all the way to your core. You've been tossing and turning for hours and flipped your pillow over too many times. With a huff, you sit up and decide that you are not going to do this any longer.

You swing your legs off your bed and scramble ─ as quietly as you can as not to disturb the peace of your sleeping roommates ─ for your sneakers and make your way out of the Slytherin common room.

It's quiet when you roam the halls. Of course, it is, it's after curfew after all.

Something in you tells you that something is coming. It festers deep within your soul, twirling and whizzing around. It makes you anxious.

Hearing steps coming from the hallway adjacent to yours, you swiftly hide in an alcove. You suck in your breath in the hope to appear as a shadow. You release it once you see it's Harry that's passing by.

"Harry!", you whisper, making the boy turn his head. His stance relaxes as soon as he sees it's you, and he slides his wand back into his pocket.

"What are you doing out of bed?", he whispers back in the same tone as you walk next to him.

You shrug. "I couldn't sleep. Again. You?"

Harry looks at the ground, searching for the right words. You grab his wrist as a sign he can tell you.

"Barty Crouch is killed. I found him in the forest while walking with Hagrid, Ron, and Hermione. Turns out, Crouch's son was a Death Eater and responsible for torturing Neville's parents."

You hold a hand over your mouth in shock. "Oh, poor Neville. Does he know?"

"No. At least - I don't think so."

You frown. It was never a question of why you felt remorse for the boy. It was your mother after all that tortured the Longbottoms to the point that they are now. And, in your opinion, it's far crueller to leave a boy behind with parents that don't remember him than to leave behind an orphan.

As the two of you pass a hallway filled with portraits, arguing voices cut through the silence of the night before a door flies open and reveals Professor Snape and Professor Karkaroff ─ who has his sleeve pulled up and revealed his dark mark, which slowly grows more intense.

"It's a sign, Severus. You know what it means as well as I."

Karkaroff snaps his head towards the two of you and angrily storms off, sneering.

Giving each other a wide-eyed look, the both of you decide it's for the best to just continue walking. But Snape has other ideas.

"Potter! Black! What is your hurry?"

You sigh and turn around, not daring to look at Snape's harsh glare.

But the Professor's attention is focused on the boy next to you. "Congratulations. Your performance in the Black Lake was inspiring. Gillyweed, am I correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Ingenious. Run along, Black, you mustn't be caught roaming the halls after curfew."

You nod, giving Harry a sorry look before you get house points deducted for whatever Snape is irritated with.

As you round the corner, you know what you have to do. There is no denying that something is going to happen, with the Dark Mark on Karkaroff's arm and the uneasy feeling in your bones. You have to go to Dumbledore. To at least report to him, as you promised.

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo​ @pietrobae @literallyobessed @vanishingcherry @lestat-whore @harrysnovia

[erin-orolin]

Writer Interview

how many works do you have on ao3? 24

what’s your total ao3 word count? 275,581

your top 5 stories by kudos

The Muffliato Rule

Tell Me a Story

I Won’t Kiss a Death Eater

It’s Just Science

Theodore Nott: Positive Meddler

do you respond to comments? yes I always try to, especially if they are the longer or more detailed variety. If it’s just a heart emoji or something that can be a little tricker to respond to, without just saying the same “thanks for reading” comment over and over again.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I don’t really write much angst, and all my endings are pretty happy. Maybe IWKADE?

what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? actually, maybe IWKADE for this as they’re put through the ringer in the fic 😅

do you write crossovers? I haven’t, no

have you ever received hate on a fic? all my fics are pretty fluffy and fun, so no I’ve never really received any hate. Just that awful reviewer rating one of mine low stars haha

do you write smut? yes 👀

have you ever had a fic stolen? not that I know of!

have you ever had a fic translated? no

have you ever co-written a fic? yes and it’s so much fun! Beds, Knobs & Broomsticks with the amazing Neilistic, and the crazy group write that is Pandamonium

what’s your all time favourite ship? ah, so hard to choose! I’d probably have to say Drarry, simply because it’s what I’ve shipped pretty much for 20 years now. Dramione a close second for bringing me back into fandom and being responsible for me meeting so many amazing writers.

what’s a wip that you want to finish but you don’t think you ever will? ooh I’d like to think I’d finish them all eventually 😅 but probably a Pansy/Seamus flirting through ear pieces one

what are your writing strengths? I like to think I can write dialogue and banter well, plus larger group scenes

what are your writing weaknesses? plotting, I basically just write without a plan 99% of the time and see what happens. I struggle with long descriptions of things too.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? If needs be, go for it. I’ve only done it once, just when we needed a sprinkle of Italian in Beds, Knobs & Broomsticks

what’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but really want to? I’ve written quite a lot of ships already, but I would really like to write a Charlie ship. Maybe Charmione?

what’s your favourite thing you’ve ever written? the Drarry that I’ve just finished but haven’t published yet, or I really like my Harry/Pansy or my accidental marriage law Draco/Theo

This was fun, and I’ve loved reading other people’s. Tagging whoever wants to do this!

[nottsangel]

literally anything with toxic theo and choking🙏🏼

PS i love u my beautiful gf💖

“so pretty, cara mia” theo growled as he slammed into you, his hands firmly gripping your hips as his fingers dug into your flesh, “especially when you shut that mouth of yours.” his hand then travelled from your hips all over your body before he tightly wrapped it around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel slightly lightheaded.

this was the usual way of making up in your relationship— no talking, only sex. it always ended in sex, just for you two to argue again the next day and repeat the same cycle. but right now, in this moment, you didn’t care one bit. the only thing you could think about was the way his cock was massaging your walls so perfectly, as if he was made for just you.

“fuck—fuck you, theo” you snarled back, your eyes narrowing before they slowly fluttered shut. he continued hitting that one spot inside of you that made you see stars as he began peppering kisses all over your neck, “we’re already on it right now, no?” you could practically feel him smirking against your skin as his hand added more pressure around your neck, followed by him pounding into you even harder. “you might hate me but you’ll never hate the way i fuck you, amore.”

ੈ♡˳

[jlhynde-insanitybrilliance]

UDLTTOM DIALOGUE DRAFT #75

*Theodore getting a Yule present from Harry (a note folded & placed in a wrapped box*

Theodore: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? No. A summer’s day is not a git…

Theodore (to Harry): Really?

Harry: It’s from the heart, Ted.

Theodore: Yes, I’m sure of that. And so is this—

*Theodore flips Harry off*

[fieldofdaisiies]

Thank you so so much for tagging me @zenkindoflove @matrixsss 💛

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 49 (but I keep deleting old things I hate, so it might get less lol)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 499,263

3. What fandoms do you write for? ACOTAR (but I also wrote for CC, TLK and Marauders/Theo Nott)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?  

A Court of Covert Desire - Azris

Trapped - Azris

I Have Been Expecting You, Shadowsinger - Azris

Feyre's Day Out - Batboys and Nyx

Oh So Sensitive Wings - Feysand

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! Sometimes many weeks later, but I always try to respond because each little comment makes me so happy, you have no idea

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I was going to say, I really don't know, but I do. The Tamlin x Rhysand's sister story... it's a bit sad...

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Actually most of them except for the Tamlin story?

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not that much anymore. In my long fics I mostly only have 2-3 chapters with smut. If I do one shots they are sometimes only smut and every kind of smut, I don't know? It's mostly very descriptive, I guess.

9. Do you write crossovers? Yes, I wrote a Nessian x The Last of Us AU and an Elucien x Medici AU

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? No. But I think someone offered to translate one of my very old Marauders fics on wattpad...

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes!! For the ACOTAR writing circle and a story with my friend @moonlightazriel for Azriel

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? Elucien will always own the biggest part of my heart, but then there is also Azris who I love almost the same. And Gwyn x Balthazar (the ship which I am the captain and one of the few crew members of lol)

13. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? The Elucien night circus/Elain as a fortune teller fic...

14. What are your writing strengths? I don't know, do I have writing strengths? Maybe dialogues? Or describing nature lol

15. What are your writing weaknesses?  everything. But I guess writing interestingly? I sometimes feel like my stories have such a boring touch to them... and word order!!!!

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? It is fun. I did a little bit of it for @iftheshoef1tz's secret santa present and I am planning another historical Azris fic set in Germany/Austria so there will be more German I guess.

17. First fandom you wrote for? Marauders.

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is so hard, but right now it is A Court of Covert Desire (Azris) and A Court of Fate and Healing (Gwyn and Balthazar).

tagging (no pressure) @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @teddyhoneybear @lovely-vanserra-sunshine @queercontrarian @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @thelovelymadone @acourtofladydeath @shadowqueenjude @sad-scarred-sassy

[amongemeraldclouds]

may recap

Readers’ Favorites

✿ Down Bad | Theodore Nott x f!Reader | 762 words

✿ Make Me | 18+ MDNI | Theodore Nott x f!Reader | 2k words

✿ Fresh Out The Slammer | Lorenzo x f!Reader | 860 words

Personal Favorites

I write what I love to read so I generally love all my fics, but if I really had to choose and exclude readers' faves, it would be:

✿ The Alchemy Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader | 1.5k words

It had been a while since I wrote for Enzo so I’m glad I did this and fresh out the slammer. This was one of the pieces where the words just flowed effortlessly and I was giggling half the time. LOVED working on this. And ofc it involved a black cat.

✿ How Theodore Nott looks at you when pt 2 Theodore Nott x f!Reader | 632 words

I loved receiving a fluff request! This was so fun to write bc I’m obsessed with dialogue and this is really the month I fell in love with Theo ♡.

✿ TTPD Fics & Masterlist

Not a fic, but I loved creating little TTPD inspired moodboards for the boys. Obsessed with the aesthetics and blending as much of my faves: TTPD, Taylor Swift, and the Slytherin boys. Yessss.

Other Published Works

✿ How Lorenzo Berkshire looks at you when Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader | 425 words

✿ How Theodore Nott looks at you when Theodore Nott x f!Reader | 300 words

✿ Consequences 18+ MDNI | Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader x Theodore Nott | 2.4k words

Highlights

✿ Milestone: reached 10k likes and 500 reblogs. This is so wild considering I just celebrated 5k likes last month! Hihi so grateful 🥹

✿ Reached 400+ followers.

✿ Published eight written content in May.

✿ It’s my third month posting.

✿ This was a great month for TTPD fics and I have more related WIPs so stay tuned.

Happy June to us all! I have a feeling we will be celebrating together soon 🤭

Navigation: april recap | masterlist

[dramaticals]

Hello love 💕 for the wips ask game can you pls do ❄ and 🌤?

❄️ - share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

Theodore shifts in his spot, his eyes darting to the empty seat in front of you, silently contemplating whether he should take it or cut his losses and leave. Reluctantly, he settles on the former. This makes you tense, your lips pursing as he sits. It doesn't help that you were highly attentive to the whispers; your classmates were surely speculating why Theodore Nott would be choosing the company of a muggle-born on Christmas Eve.

🌤️ - share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

"I'll have no problem not falling in love with you." "Sounds like a challenge," Theo smirks.

teasing wips/upcoming projects asks | accepting

[anorc-writing]

Pointless Bio time.

Largely a clone of my old FFN profile.

Welcome

Have fun reading my fics. I have had a lot of fun writing them, so hopefully you can have some fun reading them. Even the non-happy ones. They're fun too, like spicy food.

To quote Terry Pratchett "Writing is the most fun you can have by yourself."

What's my problem, dude? Why can't Harry just be an Alpha male?

(That's not actually a thing. Even Wolves don't work like that.)

I like to play with the conventions of fanfiction. E.g. with  Harry Potter, messed up kid.That kid already had PTSD before the war ended, and had an abusive upbringing. He's gonna have a bad time.

I'll take a trope and apply either crack or common sense to it. Often with naturalistic characters; not Naturalists who go naked, but people who act where possible like real people. And I'm always going to think about the ecological context of magic and thus try to find a way for the original author's worldbuilding to with as few changes as possible to be a stable system. If it was unstable, it would have collapsed in the many millennia since magic was discovered. I'm not advocating (Rowlings) socio-economic conservatism, just assuming that the original works describe a world that existed before the work, and probably afterwards too.   My series of stories about marriage contracts are technically a polemic against them. Who'd have thought.

Typographic conventions

In general I use the following typographic conventions.

"Speech" 'thoughts' 'writing being read by character'

I often don't write out parseltounge in English, just putting in speech that looks like hissing. Occasional "$parseltoungue$" occurs because VMS is cool. (If you understand the reference, you win.)

Unusual words in capital case in dialogue might be Vocal Emphasis. Try saying it aloud. Ditto. For. Over-Punctuated. Speech. (they're angry, or impersonating Alan Rickman playing Severus Snape.)

Sometimes FFN imports a section and bolds the whole thing because it ate a bold sentence at the start and got stuck thinking it's all bold. Not my fault. But tell me anyway.

Oh and people with very old english surnames that have double letter like Jasper fforde (great real world author, please read him) don't necessarily use a capital. double letters predates capitals.

PLEASE NOTE

I don't speak any languages but English. Google translate is responsible for the poor state of non-english languages in my stories. Unless I'm parodying the character, who doesn't speak the language. If you do speak the language, it should be clear from context, unless it isn't. I'd do better but I'm too ignorant. For those reading along in English: Occasional non-english text inserts occur. Life's like that.

An example : In 'Careers Day ch1', Theo Nott who is from a wealthy pure-blood family, understands the Headmistresses broken French but replies in German. What could he possibly be trying to communicate? I beg of you please, get my jokes. Or my characters. Unless they write their own dialogue for some reason. Is that... method writing when the character writes their own dialogue?

I will generally write in 3d person, semi objective and may change P.O.V. character occasionally. Sections of dialogue may not contain much description. Some reviewers don't like it. Maybe I'll rewrite it one day with more description, but I tend to ignore the surroundings and focus on the conversation in real life, so it bleeds through into my text. Occasional accidental transitions into present tense occur. And occasional intentional ones: to be intentionally jarring: something very unpleasant is generally happening and the character, and you, dear reader, by association are possibly dissociating a little.

Unreliable Narrators

My POV characters are not omniscient: They may record things that didn't happen exactly as described. Some lie or are mistaken.

Official authorial excuses section

I write to amuse myself, which means when it feels like work I don't do it. This is a hobby, not a job.

Chapter-at-a-time isn't working for me so there will be a period of lack of progress on some stories. There is writing happening, and it will get posted eventually.

Typing:As I have arthritis and am dysgraphic; I can't hit the key I want to reliably. I have to type then edit every line about four times, for get readable English. On writing days I will finish the day in pain. To quite the princess bride: 'life is pain, princess, anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you something.'

Beta: Don't have one. Yes, this is all un-beta'ed. I have tried getting beta's and I'm going to try again one day. Today is not that day.

Cursed Child: I will use elements from it, but don't take it as really canon. My rehashes of it are generally parody. And for the love of merlin don't read it, you might as well read My Immortal instead!

Honestly this bit is canon

BOOKS=CANON. Films not so much unless I want to.

Harry Potter: Is thin, has messy black hair and green eyes. And ends up fairly tall. So not Daniel Radcliffe, and I often have Harry disguise himself by making his hair brown and flat, eyes blue, and his face chunkier. Mr Radcliffe has a much wider chin than Harry does. And if Harry hasn't got PTSD, I'll eat a hat. For all of that, by his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry is canonically fanciable. Even Hermione says so (his eyes anyway, which are bottle-green not emerald dammit.)

Hermione Granger: Isn't Emma Watson. Get over it. She's got buck teeth, big frizzy brown hair and pale skin, she's prone to sunburn and blushing. And has some fairly bad habits. Read the books to find out what they are. Spoiler: bossy, thoughtless, resorts to violence, defers to authority figures.

Ron: Has red hair and a big (long) nose. He's tall, gangling and has a long nose and freckles. He's a 'regular bloke' who manages to get good grades with hardly all that much work. He misses out on being as pretty as Bill Weasley was before Bill got scarred up.

The Weasley twins aren't tall. Sorry, the movies lied to you. They're stocky. They play Beater in Quidditch.

Harry has a tiny circle of friends. He never talks to Fay Dunbar, who's in Gryffindor, and the same classes as him for six years.

[lomlwolfstar]

— before requesting

what i write (only sfw)

blurbs / fics

dialogues

headcanons

i write for draco malfoy, theo nott, harry potter, ron weasley, fred & george weasley, young remus lupin, young sirius black and young james potter, regulus black

usually write gn!reader or fem!reader, as i said i don't write smut, or if i will only sometimes, but i will reblog nsfw work of other people, i only write character x reader so no character x character, when requesting try to make your request detailed, it helps!!

feel free to send request it you want <33

[cookingmamatwo-dinnerwithfriends]

pt 3 of the theo nott series pls 🙏🙏🙏

i dont know where to go with it.....i think ill just flash forward to another idea i have because i dont wanna write friendship building dialogue :[ anyone pls comment ideas for a part 3 tho i need them