DON'T LET ME GO | theodore nott
summary: theodore nott is an enigma to you. he walks around like he has no cares in the world, and he makes it his life mission to publicly harass you each time you cross paths with him. you and him are rivals in every way, but there are times when you feel like he always has the upper hand… so what happens when unwarranted feelings start to develop?
author's note: i'm so excited to be posting my works on tumblr!! i post from a multitude of different fandoms on my ao3 (same username) but i think imma keep this account just for hp/theo because... i'm obsessed. this was my first time writing theo so i hope it's not horrendous!!! much more in the works too so stay tuned ;)
You never considered yourself a calm or chill person. Your friends describe you as the opposite of nonchalant. If anything, you care too much. You're incredibly high strung, taking everything seriously and never taking any short cuts even where everyone else does. It's why your quiet, alone time walking the halls of Hogwarts in the middle of the night are your most sacred hours. You're always freezing, walking around in your pajamas, but you can never bring yourself to care about the cold or the possibility of getting caught. It brings you a peace like none other, a peace you can't find anywhere else.
You've never been interrupted before, so when you round the corner down a random hallway and bump straight into Theodore fucking Nott, you're so shocked to see him that your mouth gapes open, and you're unable to force it shut. You simply stare at him with a bewildered look in your eyes, as if seeing him tonight was the worst possible thing that could've happened to you.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asks you in that annoyingly deep voice he assumes whenever he’s talking to you, a devilish smirk on his face that you want nothing more than to punch off of him.
Instead of reacting the way you know he wants you to, the way he expects, you laugh dryly and step aside, intending to continue on your way without having to talk to him for a single extra second; but, he stops you. Grabbing your waist, he pulls you closer to his side with ease, as if you weren't struggling against him at all.
“No, no… you’re not getting away that easily.”
You scoff at the sheer audacity of this man. “Let go of me,” you say sternly, trying your best to pull his hand off of you.
His response is to tighten his grip slightly, that fucking smirk never leaving his face as he leans in closer. “Try and make me.” He challenges you, his voice low and teasing. The corridor feels suddenly smaller with him crowding your space like this—the faint scent of cigarettes and something woodsy clinging to him from whatever earlier rendezvous he engaged in. “Or is this you finally admitting I always win our little games?” He continues on, which just makes you want to punch him even harder.
“Of course not,” you scoff yet again, glaring up at him with defiance. “I just don't need you to ruin anything else for me by standing within 20 feet of me.”
Theodore simply chuckles in response, one of his hands coming up to brush a stray hair behind your ear with mocking gentleness. “Oh? There's something you have to do that's important than this?”
"And what if I do?" You retort, taking a step back for every step he takes towards you. Eventually, your back hits the cold stone wall behind you, and you curse under your breath. He has that infuriating confidence radiating off him as always, that arrogant demeanor where he acts like nothing could ever hurt him. You want to fucking hurt him.
The torchlight flickers across his sharp features, his eyes boring into yours. “You’re a liar.” He accuses softly, his nose nearly brushing yours now.
“What the hell are you doing?” You push him away harshly, your back and then your hands pressing up against the wall behind you. Theodore stands a few feet away from you now, not breaking eye contact with you. He’s acting… weird. Different. You can’t explain it, and it’s making you nervous.
For a second, Theodore actually looks flustered. His usual arrogance flickers in his expression as he rakes a hand through his messy hair. “Fuck if I know,” he mutters, more to himself than you. Then louder, “maybe I’m tired of pretending we hate each other when–”
He cuts himself off abruptly, jaw clenching like it’s physically painful to stop the words from coming out. His cocky mask slips back into place almost instantly. “Never mind. Forget it.”
Your eyebrows furrow, confused at his hot and cold behavior. “What?” you ask, genuinely clueless. “What do you mean pretending to hate? I’m not pretending.” But, as soon as the words slip out, you know they aren’t exactly true. Sure, you hate his arrogance, how he always has to be effortlessly better than you at everything, how he annoys the shit out of you, but you don’t hate him.
Theodore’s eyes look you up and down with a sudden intensity, his playful smirk completely gone now. “Really?” he asks quietly, taking a single step closer again. There’s another pause as he studies your face—and damn it all, you seemingly can never lie to him for long. “Because I’ve seen the way you look at me during Quidditch matches,” he says slowly. “Or when I brew a better potion than you.” A faint blush creeps up his neck despite his bravado. “It’s not hate.”
“Oh, trust me. It’s hate,” you seethe, already feeling the familiar warmth bloom through your body whenever he’s around you. He knows how to push your buttons, and you hate it. Hate it all. Hate how well he knows you without even trying.
You notice Theodore’s lip twitch with something like mild annoyance. “The heat in your cheeks says otherwise,” he murmurs, reaching out to trace your flushed skin with his thumb. His touch feels so gentle, and almost reverent. It throws you completely off guard.
Before you can swat his hand away, he cages you against the wall effortlessly, his forearm resting on the space above your head, his body mere centimeters away from yours. You did kind of set yourself up to be put in this position, but it still turns you on irritates you nonetheless. “Admit it,” he breathes almost against your lips now. “We’ve been dancing around this for months.” His heartbeat is hard and fast where his chest now presses against yours. When did he get even closer? You have no idea what to think.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you try to say firmly, yet your weak tone betrays your inner turmoil, and your hands clenched into fists beside your body instead of pushing him away also speaks volumes. You want him closer, yet you want him far fucking away from you at the exact same time. His scent has filled your lungs, and you almost are dizzy off of it with the way it surrounds you, fueling that fire you can now feel all the way in your fingertips.
Theodore simply stares at you. He looks at you like he wants to do something more, to maybe even lean in and close the gap. You’re waiting for him to. You might even want him to.
He very suddenly pushes off from the wall behind you, his face stone cold yet again, the mask he easily wears falling back into place. His eyes look like dark, bottomless pits, an apathetic look on his face. The difference between him now and literally five seconds ago gives you whiplash.
He starts to speak, his voice low and gravelly, like he's holding back emotion. “It’s low even for you to follow me around the castle late at night. Are you that desperate to discover one of my secrets, hm?”
You stare at him incredulously, your raised heart beat beating even quicker now for a different reason. Pure, unadulterated, rage. You're so angry at his sudden insult that anything you might've been feeling towards him that wasn't some form of hatred immediately disappears.
“Are you fucking serious? You’re the one who ran into me. And you’re also the one who fucking pushed me against a wall and decided to act bipolar.” You snap quickly, glaring straight daggers into him.
Theodore’s jaw ticks, his cold expression wavering for just a second at your outburst. “I didn’t push you against anything.” He lies straight through clenched teeth—the absolute audacity of this man.
He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes several steps back, putting an actual proper distance between you two, like he hadn’t been practically eye-fucking you seconds ago. “Forget it ever happened.” The dismissal in his tone is glacial.
You scoff in literal disbelief. “Merlin, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You are so pissed you feel lightheaded, your breath falling short as you try and calm yourself down. “You might actually be bipolar.”
Theodore doesn't even respond to your jabs, which is extremely out of character for him. He doesn’t say anything. He just gives you this look. Like he pities you or something, like he thinks you’re pathetic. Like he hates you. And something in you snaps.
His silence enrages you. How could he just not care? “You are full of shit, Nott, and I swear to Merlin I will hate you for every single second of the rest of my life.”
Theodore doesn’t even flinch at your outburst. He simply nods curtly and turns on his heel with that same icy expression, striding down the hallway where he came from like you were nothing but a mildly annoying ghost.
But, something you don’t know. His hands are shaking slightly in his pockets—the only tell that maybe, maybe he’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be.
He disappears around a corner without looking back, and just like that, whatever fragile thing that was building between the two of you shatters completely.
During the next few weeks, the rivalry between the two of you only gets more intense. Theodore continues to tease you relentlessly with his annoying remarks and ridiculous smirk of his, and his flirtatious yet completely audacious remarks send you into a rage induced frenzy. That night has stayed on your mind, even through you tried your best to just forget about it, exactly as Theodore asked. He had acted so out of character… but why?
Theodore seems determined to make your life hell—showing up wherever you are just to mock you, stealing your notes and leaving them covered in messy annotations, even 'accidentally' bumping you in the halls, causing you to stumble and even almost trip down the stairs. His teasing had just turned plain mean. Before, it was simply annoying as hell, but you could still interpret his actions as simply moves to win your rivalry. But now, Merlin, he was your enemy. Sabotaging your potions just before Snape walked over to assess you. Messing with your test papers so you earned a low score even when you stayed up studying all night. And the worst part about it? He doesn’t even care. He just watches you coldly, glaring like he wishes he could kill you.
When you glare at him back, he doesn’t smirk. He just meets your eyes with a chilling emptiness that makes your stomach twist. Even Mattheo notices that something’s off and pulls Theodore aside one day after a particularly vicious comment he threw at you in Charms. But whatever Mattheo says? Theodore shrugs it off and keeps treating you like shit the next morning.
But there’s also something… off. The usual smugness of his feels performative now. His jokes land too hard sometimes, like he’s overcompensating for something. And when he thinks no one is looking, he stares at you with this unbearably complicated expression: frustration mixed with longing that makes no sense to you after how coldly he walked away that night.
One night during dinner in the Great Hall, you decide that you’ve had enough. Your pride has been wounded into hell, and you were done being pushed around. You had been glaring daggers into Theodore’s form for the past 20 minutes, just like you did during every meal, your eye twitching every time he had the audacity to laugh at something his friends said. It made you want to strangle him.
"Fuck this," you mumble, standing up abruptly. Your friends all stop their conversation to give you weird looks.
"What the hell are you– hey!" You ignore Hermione who's calling after you, your only thought being Theodore's name on repeat. You storm over to the Slytherin table, acutely aware of people's wandering eyes on you. You weren't one to shy away from dragging attention to yourself, so no one thought anything was extremely out of the ordinary or intriguing. Except Theodore.
He catches your eye and stares at you almost disdainfully as you walk towards him. Once you get there, you slam your hands down on the table right in front of him. The cutlery shakes dramatically, and you ignore the crazy looks you get from his friends. The laughter at the Slytherin tables dies instantly. "She's got to be mental, hasn't she?" Draco whispers to Theodore, the two of them sitting next to each other, expressions mocking and almost cruel.
"Do you ever shut your ferret mouth up, Malfoy? Or are you too busy riding Nott's dick?" Your retort elicits a snort from Blaise, who quickly mutters a sorry when Draco glares at him so hard his eyeballs look like they might bulge out of his head.
You return your focus to the task at hand. “Nott. We need to talk. Now,” you say with a false sense of calm, schooling your expression into one of calmness, even though that's the last emotion you're feeling right now. For a long moment, Theodore just stares at you—that same icy mask in place from the other night. Then, he leans back slightly with deliberate slowness, arms crossing over his chest.
“Don’t recall agreeing to anything,” he says coolly, loud enough for everyone to hear. A direct fucking insult. His friends exchange glances; they honestly just look thrilled to be witnessing this drama in real time. It only fuels your anger.
“And I don’t recall signing up to be your fucking lab rat for different ways to humiliate someone, but here we are.” You snap completely, your expression shifting into something even more murderous. It sends chills down Theodore’s spine. “Either you come with me or I swear to Merlin I will tell Dumbledore everything you’ve been doing and get you sent straight back to your Daddy’s house.” Your tone is low, and angry. It’s a thinly-veiled threat, and you mean it with every bone in you.
Theodore’s expression darkens at the mention of his father. Anything to do with his family… was a no. His jaw ticks as he slowly pushes back from the table. “Five minutes,” he grits out, already standing. Draco and Blaise share a look—no one threatens Theodore like that and gets away with it unscathed. It's an unspoken fact.
Theodore stalks towards an exit that leads to the Viaduct Bridge without checking if you’re following, his shoulders tense. When he opens the door, you immediately feel the cold air from outside whipping against your face. He practically runs to the bridge, gripping onto the railing seemingly for dear life. The wind is so fucking loud it makes it hard to hear anything at all, and you become acutely aware of your heart beating like you just ran a marathon.
The air feels different when it’s just the two of you. It doesn’t seem like Theodore is ‘performing’, for whatever reason, if it even makes any sense. “Look at me,” you call out to him over the howling of the wind. Snowflakes sting your eyes as you try and keep them open against the wind. He was facing away from you, and he didn’t turn around.
“Oh for Merlin’s sake, I said look at me–” You grab his shoulder and forcefully turn him around to face you. His body whirls on you the second your hand makes contact, faster than you expected. For a beat, he just stands there, breathing hard with the wind tousling his hair wildly. Then, his expression does something complicated, something you never expected. His cold mask slips just enough to show… pain? Regret?
“Happy now?” he shouts over the wind, voice rough. He doesn’t pull away from you though. If anything, it feels like an unspoken plea for you to not let go.
“What the fuck has been your problem lately?” You shout, but you’re not even sure if Theodore can hear you. The icy cold snow that’s falling settles on your lashes, your cheekbones, your lips. You are freezing fucking cold, your arms hugging yourself, desperately trying to preserve as much warmth as you can. “You were never mean, Nott. Just annoying. But now you’re mean.” You wish you could help it, but you can’t. Your voice cracks on the last word, and you immediately feel your nose start to prickle with the onslaught of tears that will come if you’re not careful.
Theodore’s face crumbles at your words. You’ve never seen him have a reaction like that before. Snow melts against his flushed skin as he finally meets your eyes without malice for the first time in weeks. “Maybe I wanted to be mean,” he shouts back, but there’s no real bite to it. Just frustration. “Maybe I–”
He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, looking away toward the dark lake below. “This isn’t working.” His admission is quiet beneath the wind.
“What isn’t working?” You’re still so confused, and it’s only making you even more mad. “You’re talking in riddles, Nott. I seriously don’t understand you at all.” Shouting over the wind like this makes you feel ridiculous, but it’s also freeing in a way. It feels good to get everything off your chest, to be able to shout at the top of your lungs and have a real reason for it.
Theodore drags a hand down his face, snow clinging to his lashes. When he speaks up again, his words feel heavy, like he’s finally letting go of something. “Us. This– whatever the fuck we’ve been doing.” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “I can’t–”
A gust of wind howls between you as he struggles for words. “I thought pushing you away would be easier than admitting I liked that night.” It sounds almost painful for him to admit, his confession ripped from him like an arrow shot straight through the chest. His body is turned towards you now, his body leaning against the railing of the bridge, his dark eyes searching yours for an answer that maybe would reciprocate his.
But no. You simply furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “All you did that night was tease me like you always do. What was so different?” You feel like an idiot missing some key piece of information, some key source that Theodore was refusing to tell you.
Theodore actually laughs—a harsh, bitter sound. “Merlin, you’re dense.” He steps closer despite the tension building, close enough that you can faintly feel his breath warming your cold cheeks. He seems to have an obsession with cornering you when you're most unable to decipher your thoughts or calm your heart. “Before I almost kissed you,” he says bluntly with no detectable hint of teasing anywhere, only raw honesty cutting through the wind. “That’s what was different.” His eyes search yours desperately like he’s begging you to finally understand, that he’s trying to get his point across but too fucking scared to lay it all down.
You look up at him hesitantly, the same warmth that you always get from being around him roaring in your chest once again. You can feel every nerve in your body tingling from him being so close. His presence envelops every single one of your senses, and you feel almost high off of him just standing in front of you. Why do you feel like this? You've never understood in the past, and you still don't now.
“I don’t understand,” you say quietly, your eyes darting around his face as if you’re searching for an answer. Theodore can barely hear you over the howl of the wind. “Why would you want to kiss me when you hate me? I mean, Nott, you are so fucking mean to me every single day. Why would you do that to someone you–”
Your breath catches in your throat. What are you even supposed to call this? This dynamic that the two of you share? “To someone you what, like? Fancy? Or is this all just a cruel fucking game to you, huh? Playing with my feelings?” You get louder and louder with each word, all of the pain that he inflicted onto you coming back into this moment, squeezing and crushing your heart all at once.
“You think this is a game to me?” Theodore’s voice cracks slightly, his face morphing into a painful expression at your accusations. He suddenly reaches out to grab your icy hands, pressing them against his chest so you can feel his frantic heartbeat beneath the fabric of his robes. His touch on your wrists feel like fire. You can hardly breathe.
“At least when I'm mean to you, you notice me. You talk to me, even if it's just insults. You look at me, even though you're only glaring at me like you wish I'd roll over and die. You hating me is better than nothing at all. Every fucking day I’ve been treating you like shit because it was easier,” he admits, eyes blazing as he stares deep into your soul. “Easier than admitting I’m obsessed with you. And the one stupid almost-kiss only made me want you even more.” The snow falls in swirls around the two of you, and he stares at you with such vulnerability in his eyes for the first time ever that it terrifies you.
“Then why would you be mean to me?” you cry out, the hurt in your tone easily noticeable. It makes Theodore wince. He exhales shakily, his grip on your wrists only tightening, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.
“Because I panicked,” he confesses, voice rough. “After that night, when I realized how much I wanted you, I freaked out.” He ducks his head slightly, snow dusting his dark hair, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “I became an asshole to pretend it never happened.” A bitter chuckle escapes him. “Great strategy.”
You’re silent for a long time before you can find your words again. Your heart is beating so fast and loud you’re sure the whole world can hear it, your hands clenched uselessly against his chest. Your breathing is frantic as you look up at him, his expression unlike anything you've seen, so weak and open it makes you feel like you’re being kicked in the chest. The wind whips your hair around your face, and Theodore wordlessly lets go of your hands to hold your hair back against your head so that it doesn't cloud your vision. It’s the first nice thing he’s ever done for you since you’ve known him, and you feel your heart start to melt despite how freezing your body feels. That familiar warmth that Theodore Nott had always given you returns, and nothing you could do will be able to stop the fire raging inside you.
“Why… would you want me?” you whisper after a long period of silence, your voice broken as if someone liking you would be the stupidest decision ever made. Theodore’s breath hitches at your words, and for a second, he just looks at you. He looks at you like he’s memorizing every freckle, every lash dusted with snow, every speck in your eyes.
“Because you’re the only person who has ever made me feel anything so strongly,” he admits quietly, his thumb brushing your cheekbone gently—a stark contrast to how rough he’d been acting for weeks. “You’re smart and stubborn and fucking beautiful, even when you’re yelling at me. Especially when you’re yelling at me.” A small, genuine smile tugs at his lips. The first sincere one since that night in the hallway. He cradles your jaw tenderly as he leans closer, closer enough that his nose nearly brushes yours with every word. “And I’ve been fucking miserable trying not to kiss you again. It's all I dream about. It's all I think about in class, walking to class, when I'm with my friends, when I can't sleep. I think about your lips on mine, if they'll taste like the cherry lip-balm you reapply constantly, if they'll be as soft as I've imagined, if you'll moan and whimper and be so pliant under my gentle hands.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, and your eyes widen slightly with every word he speaks. Your vision blurs. You're not sure if it's from tears or the snow or from how overwhelmed you feel. “Theo...” His name falls from your lips softly and with ease, like you’ve practiced it, even though you’ve never said it before in your life.
"I wish I could listen to you say my name over and over again until I died," Theodore murmurs, his adoring eyes looking into yours, his thumb wiping the snow from your cheek. "You are so beautiful, principessa, and I've fallen so deeply for you that I live only for your attention."
You actually feel like you might die. You're experiencing emotional whiplash all over again, but this time, for a completely different reason. You almost can't believe the words your hearing. The fire in your heart burns hotter than ever before, your entire body lit up by his confession. The thought that you might be dreaming vaguely crosses your mind, but you can't even hold onto a single thought for more than a second because of the way you feel, like you're standing on the edge of a cliff. It would be so easy to let yourself fall, just fall into his waiting, open arms...
But wouldn’t that be too easy?
“I’m still hurt,” you manage to choke the words out, blinking repeatedly to get the snow off your lashes. “You made my life hell for weeks, and now you’re telling me you feel something for me?” You shake your head, lip quivering as you try to keep your shit together. “I’m confused. I need… time.”
Theodore immediately stills, his hand freezing where it had been gently cradling your face. His hopeful expression shatters instantly. “Right,” he says stiffly, pulling back like he’s been physically burned by your words. He takes a full step away from you, jaw clenched tight against whatever emotion is threatening to spill out. The wind suddenly seems to get louder, the cold distance between the two of you returning in an instant.
“Of course.” His voice is flat now, using the same detached tone he used when pretending nothing happened weeks ago. He very suddenly turns to leave without another word, and the thought of him leaving you behind again gives you an odd sense of déjà vu and foreboding at the same time.
“Don’t pretend like this didn’t happen,” you shout after him, your hands clutching your body for stability. Theodore doesn’t turn around, but he does stop in his tracks. “Please–” Your voice cracks with emotion. “If you’ve ever truly cared about me, you won’t pretend like this didn’t happen. Don’t run away again,” you yell hoarsely, feeling the fire in your chest flicker.
You watch his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath before he slowly turns around to look at you. There’s no smirk this time. Just raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes. Snow sticks to his lashes, but he doesn’t blink it away. "I won't pretend like this didn't happen," he says slowly, his tone giving away nothing. "But I can't be around you. Not–" he takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "Not when I like you so much."
You can barely even hear him over the roar of the wind, your eyes barely being able to see the way he mouthed the words. He doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t move towards you or walk away. He just stands there, ten feet apart from you, staring. The snow makes it hard to see his facial expression, and the warmth you had felt previously being close to him vanishes in an instance. You can’t explain why you feel… disappointed.
"Alright. I understand that. I just… I need time. To think about everything. And to be able to forgive you,” you say slowly, gauging his reaction. He gives away nothing.
Theodore nods stiffly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. Take all the time you need." He takes a step back towards the castle, a clear sign of retreat. For once, he’s not being cocky or smug or cruel about anything. He just is… accepting your terms quietly. “See you around,” he mutters before turning to leave properly this time, his shoulders hunched against both the cold and whatever emotions are eating him alive right now.
The wind seems to get impossibly colder as you watch Theodore walk away, his silhouette blurring in the swirling snow. Your chest feels tight, but not with anger this time. Instead, it burns with something heavy.
You stand there for another minute, frozen. What just happened? One moment he was confessing his feelings, a sheer centimeter between the two of you, and the next? The cold shoulder again. The whiplash is dizzying. But at least you have some clarity now as to why he’d been acting like an asshole for weeks.
You take a deep breath before forcing yourself to head back to the castle, feeling an odd chill and emptiness in your heart.
The next month passes uneventfully. Theodore doesn’t outright ignore you, but he also doesn’t speak to you. It’s an extremely exaggerated change from before. He’ll get the potion ingredients off the high shelf for you, but he won’t react when you mumble a soft ‘thank you’. He’ll wordlessly hold the door open for you, but refuses to meet your eyes when you pass him by. You couldn’t get a mild jab out of him, or even a mild insult. Nothing. Radio silence. He had turned into a stranger, which was somehow even worse than being your tormentor.
It should've been nice, but it's not. He had been annoying you for all of 7th year, so shouldn’t this be relieving to you? To finally get some peace and quiet? So why does it constantly feel like your heart is being squeezed and twisted in an iron grip? Even your friends had clocked your odd behavior almost instantly. Ginny was always asking why you looked so depressed all of the time, and Hermione was curious if you had broken up with some sort of secret boyfriend. Like you could ever keep that a secret or even get one in the first place. How can you tell people that you’re sad because your bully won’t bully you anymore? It makes no sense, even to you.
Yule Ball season arrives quickly. You were actually looking forward to it, thinking it would be a welcome distraction from all of your problems, until you found out that Theodore was taking Pansy fucking Parkinson. Just the thought of seeing them together, Theodore making Pansy laugh at something stupid, made you want to fucking throw up. But why?
You had begged Ginny and Hermione to not force you to go, but they didn’t hear any of your pathetic excuses of your stomach or head hurting. “It’s our last Ball, for Merlin’s sake.” Hermione had scolded you. “You have to go, no matter what.”
And that’s how you got here, the Yule fucking Ball, watching Theodore spin Pansy around on the dance floor. Why does it feel like fucking torture to see them dancing together, having fun without a care in the world when you’re sitting to the side angrily sipping your drink and wishing you could just disappear? You originally had loved the green satin dress you picked, revealing just enough to be sexy but not enough to be considered whoreish. But now, you feel like a fucking kid trying to play dress up. Pansy, of course, happened to be wearing essentially the same exact dress as you. That didn’t even matter though, because she looks fucking radiant. Every pair of eyes in the room can't help but be drawn to her because she looks gorgeous. And of course, to make matters worse, Theodore was all over her, looking so fucking hot ridiculous in his suit. You genuinely want to gouge your fucking eyes out and stop looking at them, but you physically can’t. It makes you sick. They make you sick.
Your night drags on in a haze of bitter jealousy and alcohol. Every time you glance towards the dance floor, Theodore has Pansy spun in some elaborate waltz move, her laughing as he dips her dramatically. Of course he’s a good dancer. Of course she looks perfect on his arm. You have half a mind to walk over there and stab her. She did nothing wrong; you just felt like it, an unsettling feeling of rage brewing in your stomach.
Instead of committing first degree murder, you slump further into your chair, throwing back another shot of firewhisky. Across the hall, Theodore catches your eye for half a second, his expression unreadable before Pansy tugs him back into their whirlwind of movement. The eye-contact makes your heart stop. What does it mean…?
Hermione nudges you. “Are you sure there’s nothing going on with Nott? You keep staring.” Your throat tightens. You have nothing to say. You can't even think of an excuse.
“Nope,” you manage to choke out. Not one damn thing except apparently an excruciating case of heartbreak that you were not expecting over someone who was actively making your life hell four weeks ago.
“Can we leave for a second, Mione?” you grumble, sinking into your seat even further when you hear Pansy’s laugh over the music thumping in your ears. “I feel like I’m going to fucking throw up.”
Hermione frowns, her demeanor immediately switching to a protective one. “Yeah, of course.” She stands and helps pull you up by the elbow. The alcohol has made you sway slightly, your senses only a slight bit clouded.
The walk through the Great Hall feels like a walk of shame, and it seems to stretch on for fucking miles. Theodore and Pansy are still dancing, and the moment you pass them, you swear you can hear your heartbeat in your own ears, loud and painful.
Your heart genuinely shatters as Pansy suddenly grabs Theodore’s face and kisses him, right in front of everyone. Your stomach drops like a stone. That had to be intentional, right? You watch the whole scene unfold and it’s like a stab in your gut. The worst part is, you have no fucking idea why you feel like this. You hated Theodore, and you still do, right? Don’t you? Then why do you feel physically ill watching them lock lips?
Hermione has to drag you away from the scene. It’s like a scene from hell designed just for you. You can see the worried look on her face, and it only makes you feel even shittier. You hate making your friends feel like they need to pity you. Once the two of you exit the Ball, the only emotion you can feel is whichever one that validates throwing yourself off the Astronomy Tower.
Hermione practically drags you into the Transfiguration Courtyard, her grip firm but gentle. “Okay, breathe,” she urges as soon as the cold night air hits your face, and you hate how easily she can understand the frantic emotions so vividly painted on your face. You double over slightly, hands braced on your knees. Whether from alcohol or emotional devastation is unclear.
“Merlin,” Hermione mutters under her breath before pulling you into a tight hug. She doesn’t need explanations yet. She simply holds you together while your world spins violently sideways. You find it hilariously ironic that Theodore Nott is still having a great time inside, completely oblivious to the way he has wrecked your heart without even meaning to.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you mumble, accepting her embrace gratefully. You’re tipsy and upset at the same time, which was never a great combination of feelings. “I can’t talk about it right now,” you tell Hermione, and she responds with a comforting squeeze. It’s one of the things you loved most about her; she never pushed your boundaries, and always respected your wishes.
After a few minutes of silent hugging, you pull away, sniffling. “You should get back, Mione. You haven’t even had a proper dance with Ron yet. I think I’m going to call it a night.”
She shakes her head stubbornly. “I’m not leaving you out here alone when you’re like this,” she insists, brushing your tears away gently so as to not completely ruin your makeup.
But then Ron appears at one of the courtyard archways, looking slightly frantic. “Hermione! Everyone’s wondering where– oh.” His eyes dart between your tear streaked face and Hermione’s protective stance. Without being asked, he wordlessly walks over to the two of you, shrugging off his suit jacket to drape it over your shoulders. “You okay?” he tries to say comfortingly.
“Thanks, Ron,” you mumble, hugging the jacket close to your chest, suddenly feeling cold. Looking at the two of them gave you a warm feeling in your chest. They're so fucking cute together, and it genuinely makes you happy just seeing one of your best friends so happy. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I was literally just telling Mione to go back inside with you,” you say to Ron.
Ron exchanges a glance with Hermione, the kind that says neither-of-us-believe-you, but they won’t push. “Alright,” Ron says slowly before nudging his girlfriend gently. “C’mon love, let’s dance at least one song before Fred and George start placing bets on who trips first.”
Hermione hesitates for half a second longer before squeezing your hand. “Text me if you need anything, alright?” And just like that, they’re gone, leaving you alone in the quiet courtyard with nothing but your thoughts and the stupid kiss replaying on a constant loop.
You tug Ron’s jacket closer around you. Fuck, it's really cold. You sit down on the edge of the fountain in the center of the courtyard, looking dejectedly up towards the sky. Why is it bothering you who Theodore Nott is spending his time with? You were the one who rejected him. You were the one who told him you needed time. You were the one who hated him when he… wanted you.
But he clearly doesn't anymore. As soon as you had figured out your own pathetic feelings for a guy like him, he had moved on without a care in the world.
“Of course this is my fucking life,” you mumble dejectedly to yourself as it starts to drizzle. You don’t even bother to get under any sort of shelter. You just sit there, letting your knock-off-Pansy-Parkinson dress get soaked and your makeup that you spent hours doing be ruined.
The drizzle soon turns into a proper downpour, soaking through Ron’s jacket and your dress within minutes. Your hair clings to your face in damp strands, mascara running slightly from the wetness.
You can hear thunder rumbling somewhere in the background, matching perfectly with how fucking stupid you feel right now. Theodore had been yours to figure out first, and you blew it by overthinking for weeks while he apparently bounced straight into Pansy’s arms like nothing happened. How could he practically confess his undying love for you and then move on in a month? It makes no sense. You know that you have no right to feel the way that you do, considering Theodore did nothing wrong, but for some reason it still irks you.
Because now Pansy gets to wear his suit jacket if she’s cold. Now she gets all those little moments with him that could’ve been yours if only–
A loud splash makes you glance toward the courtyard entrance, where Theodore himself now stands, looking equally as drenched in his suit. You literally can’t breathe as you see him from 20 feet away, your hands clenching in your lap. You feel absolutely breathless just by being in the same vicinity as him, butterflies erupting in your chest as you watch him watch you.
You quickly return to reality, turning away from him so he can’t see your face. Merlin, you probably look a mess right now with your makeup and hair running wild. You can hear footsteps getting closer and closer to you before stopping a few feet away. You don’t dare to look behind you. You feel like you’re going to puke at the same time you feel like you’re going to float away from the sheer happiness you feel from him paying attention to you.
“Pansy’s still inside, if you’re looking for her,” you say snarkily. You can’t help it; your jealousy is apparent to even yourself. You’re honestly not even sure if Theodore can hear you due to the loud pour of rain. You tell yourself to just keep your emotions under control for a little while longer. Just a bit longer before you can go back to your dorm and cry your heart out with no one around to judge.
Theodore doesn’t move towards the castle, even after your monotonic comment. He just stands there, water sluicing down his face and body as he stares at you. “I know where Pansy is,” he says quietly, no trace of his usual arrogance left. A beat passes where neither of you speaks over the sound of rain hitting stone and fountain water. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks makes you want to cry tears of pure joy. You’re infuriated with yourself for feeling this way.
“Then why are you here?” you ask in a deadpan tone, trying to hastily wipe the mascara and makeup off your face so you don’t look like you just crawled out from your grave. Theodore takes slow steps toward you, as if afraid to accidentally scare you off with one wrong move.
“I saw you leave,” he admits, as if that explains everything. Rain drips from his hair as he stops next to you, close enough to talk properly but not crowding your space either. “You looked…” he trails off, jaw working like the right word won’t come.
“Ugly? Hideous? Fucking disgusting? Yes, I know,” you scoff almost angrily even though he didn’t even say anything wrong. You still don’t need him to pity you, especially since this was your first time talking to him in a whole month.
“No,” he says sharply, as if that never even occurred to him and would be impossible to occur to him in any circumstance. “You looked upset.” Another step closer. You can start to smell him, smell his cologne mixed with the scent of rainwater on grass. A small fire starts to burn in your chest. “Look at me.” Not a demand from him, but more like a plea for you.
“No,” you say stubbornly, mocking his earlier words. You know you’re acting childish, but you can’t find it in yourself to admit or stop it. “Just leave me alone.”
You hear Theodore exhale hard, frustrated but not angry. “Please.” There it is again. That quiet, vulnerable version of him that only ever comes out when it’s just the two of you with no other distractions. He reaches out slowly, fingertips barely grazing your chin to turn your face towards his. Rain streaks down both of your cheeks like false tears.
You can’t even look at him, even when he turns your face towards his. It will hurt you too much. It could genuinely destroy you. You don’t even want to imagine how insane you look, with your hair plastered over your face, your mascara streaking down. Theodore’s thumb brushes gently under your eyes, wiping away the smudges. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, so quietly you almost miss it over the rain. There’s no smirk or teasing glint in his eyes when he says it. He says it like it’s the most obvious, easy thing in the world. He studies your face like he’s memorizing every detail. Your heart stutters in your chest.
“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, pulling away like you had just been touched by a hot iron. And in a way, you had. Every single damn time you were around this man there was a fire lit in you. This uncontrollable fire lights in every single corner and deep crevice of your body. There was never a single inch of you that didn’t physically feel and even crave Theodore’s presence. “I feel fucking insane around you,” you practically shout, your heartbeat thundering louder and louder in your ears. “Just leave me alone. Please.”
Theodore drops his hand like he’s been burned by your words. For a second, he just stares, the rain making his hair plaster to his forehead. “Okay,” he says simply. But he doesn’t leave. He sinks down onto the fountain edge next to you, keeping space between the two of you but refusing to walk away. Neither of you speak for a long moment, two figures sitting in the pouring rain with nothing but tension and unspoken words crackling between them.
You sniffle repeatedly, hugging Ron’s soaked jacket even closer to you, even though at this point it wasn’t doing anything to keep you warm. You could feel Theodore’s side eye, his gaze raking over your form quickly. “Who’s jacket?” he asks roughly. If you were delusional, you would almost believe he sounded jealous.
“Ron’s,” you murmur with no explanation, his piercing gaze wearing your defenses down. “He came outside to find Hermione when I was with her.” Theodore’s jaw ticks angrily, his eyebrows furrowed as he stares at you. He says nothing, even though it looks like he wants to. It’s quiet for a long time before either of you speak again.
“I ended things with Pansy.” Theodore speaks completely out of the blue. You whip your head around faster than you ever have in your life to stare at him—what? He’s looking straight ahead at nothing, jaw tense like he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “Five minutes after dancing,” he adds lamely as if that explains anything. An incredulous look paints your face.
“Are you a fucking idiot?” you exclaim, so incredibly confused and hopelessly infatuated by this man. You’re furious at yourself for the sheer fucking joy you feel after hearing those words leave his mouth.
Theodore actually laughs at your outburst, but it was a short and humorless sound. “Probably,” he states, turning his head to face you properly. Rain drips from his long lashes as he holds your gaze. “I couldn’t do it with her when I was–” He cuts himself off again, clearly struggling to articulate whatever the hell is going on in that messy head of his.
“When what?” You try and egg him on, your heart beating faster and faster with anticipation. You see him swallow hard.
“When I was thinking about you,” he admits, his voice rough from the cold. “The whole fucking time.” His hands flex uselessly at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but knows better after your rejection. “It didn’t feel right with her.” A simple explanation that you guess explains everything. But it doesn’t. It literally explains nothing.
It doesn’t even matter though, because you can almost physically feel the weight of a million bricks lift off your shoulders. It’s like you can breathe again. “Why would you ask her out in the first place then?” You ask. Theodore responds with a shrug, and you watch the rain droplets fall from his suit collar. Your eyes trail from there to his neck, and you suddenly have the urge to run your tongue against it, tracing the lines left by the droplets of rain.
“I tried to move on,” he mutters. “Stupid fucking idea.” He finally risks another glance at you, eyes dark with something strangely vulnerable, a look you haven’t seen on him for more than a fleeting second or two in the past. “It just didn’t work.” Four words that somehow carry weeks of pining and frustration.
You stare at him silently, and he stares back. Your hands shake with nervousness, knowing what you’re about to say. “Well, it didn’t work for me either,” you whisper, barely audible over the pouring rain.
You can see Theo’s entire body freeze, his demeanor changing in a second. “What?” he asks lowly, like he didn’t quite catch what you said. Rain continues to hammer down between the two of you as the weight of your admission hangs in the air. For someone usually so sharp, Theodore looks genuinely dazed right now.
You gaze down at your hands, all of a sudden too embarrassed to look at him in the face. “I thought that I had hated you ever since the beginning of 7th year when we met. I thought the fire I felt burning through my whole body every time you were around was hatred. But when you stopped talking–” You interrupt yourself to laugh at how pathetic you sound. “When you stopped talking to me, I genuinely wished for you to just fucking bully me again like how you used to, just so you would look at me. Do you understand that, Nott? Can you really understand that? You didn’t even have to talk to me, but as long as you looked at me I felt like I could’ve been okay with just that.”
You can faintly hear thunder in the distance, the rain falling so heavily you can barely see a few feet in front of you. But you’re not done. “And then– you and Pansy started going out or whatever, and it was like– I mean, she’s the complete opposite of me. And I got so in my head about everything, because I didn't understand how you could move on so quickly. And then I started to wonder if I was just making it all up in my head, and that maybe it was never that serious in the first place. It all confused me because I was still convincing myself that I hated you. I mean, for Merlin’s sake.” You laugh dejectedly. “I literally wore Slytherin green to the Yule Ball just so you would maybe look at me for one second. I’m in fucking Gryffindor for fucks sake.”
Theodore listens intently. He never interrupts, just absorbs every word you say like it’s the gospel, his soft gaze trained onto you, unblinking. “And I just feel so fucking pathetic every single fucking day because I was, and I still sort of am, in denial that I don’t actually hate you. That the fire I feel around you is fucking attraction and that I’m losing my mind seeing you with Pansy because if I weren’t such a fucking idiot before, then that could’ve been me. It could’ve been me and you. But it’s not. It’s her.” Your voice finally cracks on your last word. Your heart is swelling with so much passion and emotion and fire that you feel like you could actually self-combust. You don’t dare watch Theodore for his reaction.
By the time you finish, Theodore’s expression has shifted from feigned nonchalance to something painfully hopeful. “Merda,” he breathes in a language you assume is Italian and that you can't understand, surging forward towards you with no warning to grab your face towards his. You can barely take a second to breathe and inspect his expression before he cups your jaw and kisses you.
It’s not anything like a typical first kiss that you would share with someone. A normal first kiss would be considered shy, exploratory, a light nervousness and pit of butterflies in your stomach. This kiss is nothing like that at all. It’s messy, rain and your tears that you haven’t even realized slipped out mixing as Theodore kisses you with months’ worth of pent up frustration. One of his hands slides into your wet hair while the other pushes you closer by your back, forcing you to lean into him. The sensation of his lips on yours, his hands roughly on your body, and his soaking wet clothes on yours made you feel like you were literally on fire.
You can’t even move for a solid few seconds, your brain short-circuiting from the sudden contact. But soon enough, you melt into him, fully succumbing to your deepest most hidden desires. Your hands fly up to grip his suit jacket as you kiss him back desperately, like this is your last chance to ever kiss him for the rest of your life. And maybe it is, since you don’t know any better. He tastes like firewhisky and rainwater and Theo– Merlin, he’s such a good kisser.
You whimper as he slips his tongue into your mouth, his hand on your back moving to grip your throat while the other tugs harshly on your hair, moving you into the exact position he desires. The fire inside you burns so fucking hot you feel like you could die, the rainwater almost sizzling as it touches your skin. You should feel cold, but you feel like you’re in a fucking desert, parched for his touch, and you need him, Merlin do you need him so fucking bad. Theodore hums low in his throat at the way you kiss him back, hungry and desperate, like you’ve been starving for this. And God knows you have been.
His grip on your throat tightens just enough to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss obscenely, tongue sliding against yours in filthy tandem with each other. The rain only pours harder onto the two of you, but you couldn't care less, too euphoric on the feeling of doing the thing you had been fantasizing about nonstop for weeks.
When you finally pull back for air, his lips follows yours, his eyes darkening with obsessive need when he realizes that you need a break. His tousled collar and swollen lips make your stomach coil. “Why’d you stop?” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and so fucking sexy you have half a mind to strip his pants off right then and there and suck his dick until he cried.
He leans his forehead against yours, the two of your chests rising and falling quickly as you catch your breath. “We can’t do this outside,” you breathe against his lips, your eyes fluttering shut, your mind in complete overdrive. Theodore groans but reluctantly obeys, sneaking one more kiss onto your lips, chest heaving as he pulls away slightly to look at you.
“Where, then?” he demands immediately, voice so strongly tainted with the same need you also feel. Your lips brush against his as his hands move to hold your face, his thumb trailing over your bottom lip sensually, as if trying his hardest to seduce you into making a bad decision.
“My dorm’s closer,” you whisper, feeling the heat everywhere as you watch his devilish smirk that you’ve grown to love so much spread across his face.
"Very brave of you. You're living up to the Gryffindor name quite well, amorina."
“But you’re so hot when you’re mad at me.”
You scoff in mock annoyance, one of your hands trailing to the back of his neck before shoving his lips into yours, kissing into him every single bit of frustration, pain, attraction, and love you feel for him. And for the first time since you’ve met Theodore, it doesn’t feel like a fight you’re trying to win.
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