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Do you hate it when you find a fic that says “x reader” only for it to have she/her pronouns, as if it’s some inherent rule that only fem people read fanfiction? WELL DO I HAVE A BLOG FOR YOU.
.・。.・゜✭・. ☾ ⋆*・。.・゜✭・.
am i reorganizing my masterlist for the 10,000th time? yep! i’ve finally written enough that i need to break this down into tinier masterlists!
molly weasley discovers the extent of the dursleys’ abuse ❌
the weasley family and their cinematic adventures
just some funky lil headcanons
Harry Potter and the Amount of Abuse He Suffered at the Hands of His Guardians That Doesn’t Get Mentioned Nearly Enough (aka LET THE POOR BOY BE TRAUMATIZED)
writing prompt: “…jegulus taking in teenage harry after he runs away from the dursleys” 🛑 ❌
untitled tomarry thingy (i just love them okay)
writing prompt: “Touch starved Tom / Voldemort” 🛑 ❌
two thousand words of pure marauders-raise-harry fluff
writing prompt: “regulus black becoming the best seeker ever and harry being his biggest fan and then he finds out that his dad use to date him and he tries (and plots with sirius) to get them back together just so he can call the regulus black his stepdad”
Children Don’t Belong in Cupboards (pt. 1/?)
synopsis: jily comes to the dursleys’ to get their son back 🛑 ❌
enzo berkshire is left handed, but the usage of quills and ink have forced him to write right handed to avoid smudging. bonus: muggleborn reader introduces him to pens with instant-drying ink
rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.
thank you for the tag @suugarbabe !!
a/n: yes, i'm embarrassed at how many there are. yes, these are all working titles. because my adhd is a menace, i've also included my estimated percentage of how completed each wip is. ask away!
~~~
🖋 verdigris – au w/ theo x m! reader (5%)
🖋 what the hell are nargles? – mattheo x m! reader (60%)
🖋 cigarettes & no regrets – theo x gn! reader (75%)
🖋 theo is nott straight – theo x m! reader (30%)
🖋 there’s no use holding grudges against the dead – post war w/ draco x m! reader (5%)
🖋 the contessa – blaise x theo x m! reader (10%)
🖋 senbazuru – (98%)
🖋 ao3 bullshit – (2%)
🖋 angels exist behind closed doors – (1%)
🖋 the doll pt ??? – slytherin boys x gn! reader (50%)
🖋 phoenix tears series finale – mattheo x ftm! reader x diary! tom (20%)
🖋 manhunt – theo x gn! reader (1%)
🖋 pawn – riddle brothers x m! reader (10%)
🖋 myosotis – enzo x m! reader (10%)
🖋 is everyone in this fucking dungeon a homosexual whore? – matthenzodore(?) x m! reader (5%)
🖋 the super spooky darkity markity – mattheodore x m! reader (5%)
Summary: Sometimes running away from a wedding leads you exactly where you're meant to be — preferably into the arms of a much better guy.
A/N: These fics just keep getting longer and longer. again lowkey kinda hate this and i feel like i made theo heavily ooc but it is what it is ig
Theo hated churches.
He wasn’t particularly religious—never cared much for the belief in some higher power watching over them all. After all, if someone like that did exist, his mother—a devout, gentle woman—wouldn’t have been ripped from the earth so soon. It should’ve been his father, not her. At least, that’s what he’d thought as a boy.
Still, despite his aversion to anything even remotely sacred, he found himself sitting alone in the pews of a quiet chapel. The sun streamed through stained glass, washing the room in warm, fractured color. He didn’t believe in prayer, but he came here anyway. This had been his mother’s favorite place before she died, and somehow, being here made him feel closer to her—like she might hear him, if only faintly.
“Mamma,” He murmured, voice low, “sometimes I truly wonder what my future was meant to look like.”
The war was over, but the silence it left behind was deafening. He spent a lot of time now, wondering about his place in the world. He and the rest of his mates—Berkshire, Riddle, Malfoy, and Zabini—had played a crucial role, working as double agents under Dumbledore’s orders. But because their involvement had remained classified, carefully buried under the Ministry’s politics, they were still seen as Slytherins first. As former sympathizers. As a threat. Pariahs.
It stung. He had done the right thing, when it mattered most. And yet, he wondered if this cold reception was all he’d ever receive.
A few years ago, he hadn't even expected to live this long. His younger self had been certain he’d never survive the war—that he’d be killed for his betrayal of Voldemort and reunited with his mother much sooner than expected. But he had survived. And now, once again, he was adrift.
That’s why he came back here—hoping for clarity, for a sign. But as always, the silence answered him back.
He sighed softly, rising to his feet and tucking his hands into his coat pockets, ready to leave. His shoes echoed against the marble floor as he turned toward the exit.
But before he could cross the threshold, the chapel doors burst open with a loud bang.
Theo blinked.
A vision in white stumbled inside.
Satin, lace, curls escaping from a veil. Breathless. Flushed. A wild gleam in her eye.
His heart paused mid-beat as he recognized the chaos incarnate now standing in the aisle, clutching the skirt of her wedding dress like she’d just escaped a dragon, veil askew, bouquet long gone, and cheeks flushed pink like she’d run from hell itself.
His mouth opened before he could stop it.
“(L/N)?” The name left his mouth before he could stop it, soft and shocked and just a little bit disbelieving.
You looked up, startled — like you hadn’t expected to see another soul inside — and your eyes widened in delight.
“Theodore Nott!” You beamed, chest still rising and falling in heavy breaths, curls frizzing at the edges, voice giddy and strange, “Fancy seeing you here! Gosh, I haven't seen you since Hogwarts! How are you? And the others—Riddle, Berkshire, and the lot? All good, I hope.”
Theo stared at you in complete bewilderment as you keeled over to catch your breath, tugging off your veil and fanning yourself with it like some kind of deranged society lady.
“Merlin’s sweaty balls,” You gasped, dramatic as ever, “It’s impossible to breathe in this damn corset.”
“They’re good,” Theo said slowly, brow furrowed, “I’m sorry, are you in a wedding dress?”
You nodded, breathless, laughing like the question itself was hilarious, “Unfortunately, yes. Bit of a pity I didn’t realize I didn’t want to marry the sorry bloke thirty minutes ago. Would’ve made my escape a lot easier if I wasn’t drowning in fifty pounds of satin.”
He blinked at you, still speechless, hands deep in his coat pockets.
“I mean—” You barreled on, eyes wide and shining, “there I was, standing at the altar, looking at my so-called fiancé, and it just hit me: I cannot wake up to his sorry mug for the rest of my life. To hell with my parents. And society. I don’t want to be a Bulstrode. That name sounds like the arse-end of a toad, don’t you think?”
You paused, eyes narrowing playfully, “(Y/N) (L/N) sounds so much nicer, doesn’t it?”
Theo arched an unimpressed brow, “You know you can get married without changing your last name, right?”
At that, you absolutely lost it—doubling over in wheezing laughter, slapping your knee like he’d just told the funniest joke in history.
“You always were such a crack-up, Theodore!” You gasped between giggles, “Where are my manners? What brings you here today? Certainly not for the wedding, I hope—because, well—” You gestured at yourself, still panting in the middle of the cathedral, “you can probably tell that’s not happening.”
Before Theodore could get a word in, the sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Your eyes went comically wide as you pressed yourself flat against the stone wall, wedged just behind the chapel door as it swung open with a bang.
In marched your father—red-faced, sweaty, and breathing like a charging Hippogriff. His eyes locked onto Theodore like he was a bloodhound catching a scent.
“Have you seen a girl in a wedding dress?” He barked.
Theo quirked a brow, gaze sliding—slowly, deliberately—to the right, where you were doing your best impression of a human statue. From where he stood, he could see you mouthing frantic no’s, shaking your head so violently he was almost certain you’d give yourself whiplash. Your hands were flying in wild, desperate gestures, pleading silently.
He turned back to your father, the picture of calm.
“No, sir.”
Your father squinted, suspicious—but apparently not enough to question it. “Well, if you do,” He huffed, already half-turning, “you tell her to march her sorry behind back into that hall and marry the boy, or she’ll be sorry.”
The door slammed shut behind him.
You clutched your chest like you’d just survived a curse, eyes squeezed shut as you slid bonelessly to the floor in your crumpled wedding dress.
“That,” You breathed, “was nerve-wracking.”
You peeked up at him with a grateful look, “You’re a good liar, Nott. Thank you.”
Theo looked down at the breathless, sweaty heap you’d become, still sprawled on the stone floor like a very distressed meringue. With an amused smirk, he cleared his throat, “Well… good luck with everything, (L/N). Let me know if you actually go through with becoming a Bulstrode. I’ll send a wedding gift.”
You gaped up at him in horror as he began to sidestep the tangled mass of satin and lace that was your gown, clearly preparing to leave the chapel and abandon you to your doom. Without thinking, you grabbed his calf—your perfectly manicured nails digging into his trousers, the massive engagement ring catching the light like a cursed artifact.
“What?! You can’t go now! You have to get me out of here!”
Theo arched a skeptical brow, “And why, exactly, would I do that?”
You pointed at him in outrage, still clutching his leg like a deranged bride octopus, “You just lied to my father! That makes you an accomplice. A—A conspirator! You're already implicated!”
Theo looked thoroughly unimpressed, “I could just tell him you were hiding behind the door like a terrified possum.”
You gasped, “You wouldn’t.”
He tilted his head, “Try me.”
Panic glittered in your eyes before you straightened your spine and went full Slytherin, “Fine. You want to play that game? I’ll tell everyone you’re my secret paramour. That you seduced me, took my virtue in the belfry, and that’s why I fled the altar.”
Theo’s mouth dropped open, scandalized, “I beg your pardon?”
You clasped your hands together, expression softening into exaggerated, pleading sweetness, “Please, Theodore. I’m not asking for your soul. Just… apparate me out of here. One quick jump and I’ll be out of your life forever.”
He stared at you. Then sighed.
“Merlin help me,” He muttered, “You’re even more unhinged than I remember.”
“So that’s a yes?”
He offered you a hand, “Only if you swear not to mention the word ‘virtue’ ever again.”
You grinned, already taking his hand, “Deal, my paramour.”
He groaned. Loudly.
Theo stepped closer, one hand sliding around your waist, tugging you flush against him. You blinked up at him, stunned into silence by the proximity. Up close, you finally understood why half the girls in your year had harbored crushes on him. He had that kind of face—the infuriatingly beautiful kind that made your stomach swoop before your brain could catch up.
Then—with a sharp crack—the world twisted out from under your feet.
You landed hard against him, fingers fisting the lapels of his jacket like your life depended on it. Which, to be fair, it had.
Warm sunlight spilled over your face, the bustling sounds of the street around you cutting through the fading disorientation. You blinked. Then smiled.
You were free.
Theo watched you quietly as your eyes danced over every detail—the streetlamp, the baker’s cart, a child chasing a butterfly. Everything ordinary now seemed extraordinary through your gaze. You looked like someone seeing the world for the first time.
“Are you good, (L/N)?” He asked, low and cautious.
You didn’t take your eyes off the street. “A new world’s waiting for me,” You said softly, “It’s… terrifying.”
He didn’t say anything, but his grip around your waist didn’t loosen.
You stood there, trembling fingers still tangled in the fabric of his coat, heart pounding like it was trying to sprint back to the cathedral.
Theodore’s sharp gaze softened as he took in your messy lipstick, sweat-dampened curls, and the way you clung to him like the world had just tipped sideways. You looked like a woman on the edge of disaster—or greatness. Maybe both.
"Where were you planning to go?" He asked quietly.
You blinked up at him, dumbly, your glassy eyes beginning to sting as the reality of what you’d just done crashed over you like cold water.
Oh Merlin.
What had you done?
You didn’t have a house. You didn’t have a job. You didn’t have money of your own. Your entire life had been orchestrated by your father—who’d been all too eager to sell you off to your so-called fiancé—and you’d just thrown a wrench in his perfect little plan.
"I... I hadn’t thought that far." You admitted, voice barely a whisper as your bottom lip began to tremble.
Theo sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, “Bloody hell.”
You started to stammer, trying to save face, “Look—I’ll figure it out. I just needed to get away. You don’t have to—”
“Don’t be dense,” He muttered, “Come on.”
You furrowed your brows, confused, “Come on where?”
“My home,” He said bluntly, “You’re clearly overwhelmed, and you need to breathe somewhere that isn’t a chapel or the middle of a bloody street. You can crash in the guest room. I’ll pour a cup of tea. Or Firewhisky, if you’re feeling rebellious.”
You stared at him, stunned silent, “You’d really do that for me?”
In all honesty, Theodore had no idea why he was doing this for you.
Maybe it was the way your eyes looked—raw and frightened—that struck something in him. He remembered that look. Back when his mother died. Back when he was stuck between two worlds, pretending to be loyal to the Death Eaters while secretly fighting for the other side. When the war ended, and he had no bloody idea who he was without it.
He knew helplessness like an old friend. And though he’d never admit it aloud, he also knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight if he walked away now—knowing you were out there, wandering the streets in a bloody wedding dress or dragged back to marry someone you didn’t love.
“Yeah,” He said finally, “I would.”
You exhaled shakily, blinking back tears, “Okay.”
“Okay.” He echoed.
He held your arm carefully—like you were a glass about to crack—and apparated you both away.
By the time your feet touched down again, you were standing in a warmly lit corridor outside a tall, modern-looking door. Theodore slid a key out of his coat pocket and unlocked it with a click.
“My flat.” He said simply, stepping aside to let you in.
You blinked, glancing around as you followed him, “Wait. Don’t you have a whole family manor somewhere?”
He raised a brow as he tossed his coat onto a sleek brass hook, “Not fancy enough for you, darling? Would you rather go to the five-star resort your family booked for your honeymoon instead?”
You gaped, then closed your mouth, then opened it again—only to come up short, “Touché.”
He chuckled, pushing open the door, “I live in a flat because the manor’s too bloody big for just me. I might move back in when I’m older, but right now? No one needs twenty-three bedrooms unless they’re running a boarding school.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping inside after him, “Just say you’re rich and move on,” you muttered.
You were mid-sigh when your eyes took in the space—and almost instantly, the tension in your shoulders loosened. His flat wasn’t enormous, but it was stunning. Dark hardwood floors, rich emerald and charcoal accents, and floor-to-ceiling windows framed the London skyline like a painting. The air smelled faintly of pine, leather, and something warm—like spice and magic.
Books lined custom-built shelves along one wall, and a record player quietly spun something soft and jazzy in the corner. A massive velvet sofa sat in the center of the open-plan living area, flanked by brass sconces and a few well-kept plants.
Theo disappeared into a side room, leaving you standing awkwardly in your crumpled wedding dress in the middle of his living room. When he returned, he had a folded stack of clothes in his hands.
“I grabbed whatever looked closest to your size,” He said, handing them over with a half-shrug, “Might still be a bit big—but it’s cozy, at least.”
You unfolded the hoodie and held it up. It fell nearly to your knees.
“You’re joking.”
“Or you could stay in your wedding dress. Very sexy.”
You let out a laugh, “You got me again.”
You eyed the clothes, then glanced back up at him, “You sure none of your… lady friends left something behind? Something a bit more...appropriate?”
Theo smirked, unfazed, “I don’t keep a lost and found bin, sweetheart. But nice try.”
You grinned despite yourself, clutching the clothes to your chest.
“Go on,” He added, gesturing toward the hallway, “First door on the right—bathroom’s there. Take your time. Come out when you’re ready. I’ll sort dinner.”
“You cook?”
He looked at you, mock-offended, “I’m Italian.”
“That’s not a yes.”
Theo placed a hand over his heart, feigning injury, “Wow. So little faith.”
You laughed—a real one this time—as you padded off toward the bathroom, the ridiculous rustle of your wedding dress trailing behind you. Hoodie and sweats in hand, feet aching, heart still thudding from everything you’d run from.
But somehow, in the warmth of this space, with the sound of jazz humming in the background and Theo cooking up dinner—you started to feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time.
Safe.
Maybe, just maybe… you were going to be okay.
When you finally emerged from the bathroom, the last remnants of your old life had gone swirling down the drain—hairspray, waterproof mascara, and everything else that once held you together. You felt… lighter. Your skin was clean, your hair damp, and the oversized hoodie you wore—Theo’s—smelled faintly of cedar and citrus. It hung down to your thighs like a dress, and the joggers were barely hanging onto your waist.
The scent hit you first—garlic, tomatoes, fresh herbs—and your stomach let out a traitorous growl.
Theo looked up from the stove, giving you a once-over before turning back to stir the pot. “Look at you,” He said with a lopsided smirk, “Didn’t think my clothes would suit you that well.”
You gave him a smirk and did a twirl to show off the outfit—just in time for the joggers to fall right to your ankles. You both burst into laughter.
“The elastic’s useless and the drawstring’s just for decoration.” You said, tossing the offending trousers over the back of a chair.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I charmed the pants off a woman.” Theo replied smoothly.
You snorted, shaking your head.
He slid a bowl across the island toward you—tagliatelle with a thick, rich Bolognese sauce, steam curling up like it had its own mind.
You took one bite, and your eyes fluttered shut. “Oh my god,” You groaned, “This is… this is unreal.”
He gave a small shrug, “I told you.”
You were already shoveling in another forkful, “I haven’t eaten something that didn’t taste like sadness in months.”
Theo leaned against the counter, watching with amusement, “Easy, love. You keep going at that pace, you’ll make those giant joggers fit.”
You swallowed and let out a dramatic sigh, “Wedding diet. I’ve been living off steamed vegetables and heartbreak.”
He laughed, deep and full, “Well, lucky you. There’s more where that came from. And gelato in the freezer.”
Your head snapped up, “You’re kidding.”
“‘Chi mangia bene, vive bene,’” He said with a smirk, “‘Those who eat well, live well.’ My mamma drilled that into me.”
You blinked, then smiled, “Incredibly smart woman.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, your smile didn’t feel like something you had to fake or force. You sat there, in someone else’s hoodie, with sauce on your cheek and your hair still damp, in a flat that smelled like warmth and comfort and garlic.
Theo reached across the table, brushing his thumb gently against the corner of your mouth, “You’ve got a bit of sauce—right there.”
You blinked, startled by the tenderness of the gesture. His hand lingered a second longer than necessary before he pulled back.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” He asked, quieter now.
You gave him a half-smile, soft but guarded, “Sick of me already?”
His lips quirked, but his eyes stayed serious, “I just mean… are you sure you won’t regret this? People get cold feet. Panic at the altar. Happens all the time, or so I hear. And the longer you stay here—the more real this gets—the harder it’ll be to undo without fallout.”
You sat still for a moment, then set your fork down, appetite forgotten.
“It wasn’t cold feet,” You said, voice low, “I never wanted to get married.”
Theo didn’t interrupt. He just waited.
“My father did. Desperately. He’s been obsessed with bloodlines and alliances since before I could walk. Marrying into the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Like that still means anything in this world.” You let out a bitter laugh, “Somehow that old bastard managed to squirm his way out of Azkaban after the war. And now he’s back to doing what he does best—peddling blood purity and ruining my life.”
Theo’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
“I spent months shoving my feelings down, just trying to be the daughter he wanted. The obedient one. Because what choice did I have?” Your fingers curled around the fabric of his hoodie, “But when I was standing there—at the altar, staring down a future I didn’t choose—I realized something. Maybe I didn’t have choices before. But I could make one now.”
Silence stretched between you for a beat.
Then, softly, Theo said, “That was brave.”
You let out a watery laugh, swiping your sleeve beneath your eyes, “Please. Not like you, playing double agent for Dumbledore. Now that was brave.”
He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “That was reckless.”
“It was noble. Valiant,” You said, voice steadier now, “Really, the kind of madness only a true Slytherin could be ambitious enough to pull off.”
Theo arched a brow, “Flattery? From you?”
You gave him a crooked grin, “Don’t get used to it. Mine was just… selfish. Desperate.”
He looked at you, the warmth in his gaze soft but unwavering, “It’s good to be selfish sometimes.”
You held his gaze, breath catching slightly when his eyes didn’t waver. There was something weighty in the silence—something soft and unspoken stretching between you, tugging gently at the space that separated your bodies.
Theo’s fingers drummed once against the tabletop, then stilled. Neither of you moved.
Your pulse thrummed in your ears. He looked at you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your face, and for a second, just one second, you let yourself wonder what it would feel like to close the distance.
Then you blinked, cleared your throat, and reached for his plate. “Well. Since you think it’s good to be selfish,” You said, trying to sound casual, “I’m gonna eat the rest of your pasta.”
Theo let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh—or a sigh. Maybe both, “Oi—at least leave room for dessert.”
***
Loud, boisterous laughter was the first thing that dragged Theo out of a half-dream. He groaned, arm flinging over his eyes as the unmistakable sound of his front door swinging open—without ceremony—hit him like a freight train.
“What the—who the hell is making all that noise?” He muttered, voice hoarse as he blinked toward the ceiling.
The culprits were, predictably, already raiding his kitchen like starved hyenas: Draco, Lorenzo, Mattheo, and Blaise, helping themselves to his fresh bread and the groceries he’d actually gone out and picked himself—because unlike those degenerates, he cared about food quality.
He should’ve never given them spare keys.
“For emergencies,” He’d said. “Only if it’s important,” He’d said.
Idiotic. Clearly, their definition of ‘emergency’ included hungover brunches and unsolicited early morning gossip.
“Morning, sunshine,” Draco drawled with an infuriating smirk, already sprawled across Theo’s sofa, eating the hand-picked strawberries Theo had searched three markets to find, “You’re just in time for the morning news”
Theo groaned louder and face-planted into the cushions, “Could you shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep in our own damn flat.”
“Oh, come on,” Blaise said, smirking as he rifled through Theo’s cabinets, “You must’ve heard by now. (L/N). You remember her—Pansy's roommate. She left Bulstrode at the altar. Just ran right out.”
Lorenzo let out a low whistle, “Left Bulstrode standing there like an absolute mug. At the altar, mate. In front of everyone. Just turned and walked straight out mid-vows. I mean—iconic.”
Mattheo, chewing thoughtfully on a stolen slice of sourdough, shrugged, “Serves him right. No way Bulstrode was ever gonna bag a babe like (L/N). He’s got the charm of a wet napkin.”
“And get this,” Blaise said, lowering his voice into a tone of mock-conspiracy, eyes glinting, “Rumor is—she had a lover on the side. Secret romance, hidden rendezvous, the whole nine yards. Some bloke she’s apparently been in love with for ages. No one knows who, though.”
Theo, face still hidden by the couch cushions, flinched.
Blaise squinted at him, “You look... twitchy. Something you wanna share with the group?”
Before Theo could invent an excuse, a sound cut through the room—soft footsteps padding across the floorboards.
The guest bedroom door creaked open.
You stepped out, bleary-eyed, rubbing your face with the sleeve of Theo’s oversized hoodie—his hoodie that hung off your frame like it had been stitched for you. Your hair was tousled from sleep, legs bare, the joggers you’d worn the night before still draped over a chair in the corner, clearly forgotten.
Theo’s eyes flicked up to you for a moment—heart skipping a beat at the sight of your flushed cheeks and mussed hair—but he quickly masked the softness with a cool, unreadable glance.
Every sound in the room died on cue.
You blinked at the kitchen full of frozen Slytherins and offered a sheepish smile, “Um… morning?”
The silence that followed was nothing short of reverent.
Mattheo dropped his toast. Lorenzo’s jaw unhinged. Draco choked on a strawberry. Blaise turned—slowly, dramatically—to Theo with the grin of a man who had just unearthed a scandal.
And then—chaos.
“No bloody way,” Blaise said, pointing an accusatory finger, “You?! You’re the lover?!”
“No, no,” Theo said immediately, sitting up straighter, “She’s not—I mean, it’s not— It’s not like that.”
You nodded, “It’s really not what it looks like.”
“She’s not—” Theo added, standing abruptly.
“We’re not—” You said at the same time.
“Dating.” You both finished in unison.
The pause that followed was only broken by Blaise’s slow, disbelieving laugh, “You two seriously rehearsed that or something?”
Mattheo’s gaze flicked from you, to the hoodie, to Theo’s bedhead and thoroughly disheveled state, “You sly, secretive little bastard.”
“You’re blushing,” Lorenzo cackled, pointing at Theo.
“I’m not blushing.”
“You’re so red your freckles are blending in.”
“You lot need to leave,” Theo growled, yanking the mug out of Draco’s hand.
“Oh, we’ll leave,” Mattheo said, standing with an exaggerated sigh, “Just as soon as we finish processing the greatest plot twist since Dumbledore kicked it.”
“I don’t know,” Lorenzo mused, “This might top it. Runaway bride finds solace in former classmate’s bed—”
“Spare room!” You and Theo barked at once.
“Oh right,” Blaise said, lazily gesturing to you, “Because that totally explains the no-pants situation.”
You threw up your hands, “He doesn’t have any trousers that fit me!”
Mattheo let out a low whistle, “Stars above, I wish I had popcorn.”
Theo’s jaw clenched, “She needed a place to stay. I offered. That’s it.”
“And I accepted. Platonically.” You stressed.
“And Theodore isn’t some adulterous whore,” You added with a sigh, “He’s just an unfortunate bloke with terrible timing who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
The way your voice softened at the end made something twist in Theo’s chest.
“Well, you did good,” Lorenzo said, grabbing another slice of bread, “Bulstrode’s an ugly git anyway.”
You shared a glance with Theo who gave you a soft, barely there smile that was meant to reassure you in a way that conveyed, 'See? What you did wasn't so bad.'
“So what’s the plan now?” Blaise asked, eyeing the two of you over his coffee, “You two just gonna keep playing house?”
“Oi, ease up,” Theo said, casting him a warning look, “Don’t overwhelm her.”
He glanced at you briefly, then added, “We talked last night.”
“Ooo, pillow talk.” Mattheo smirked—earning himself a slap to the back of the head.
Theo rolled his eyes, “We were talking, and I offered to let her stay here. As long as she needs.”
You caught Theo’s eye and saw a softness there that only came out when he looked at you. In that moment, the chaos of friends and gossip faded away, leaving just the quiet promise of safety and belonging between you two.
***
You sat cross-legged on the floor, the open suitcase in front of you spilling out clothes, books, and a few small trinkets you’d brought from your old life. The boxes stacked neatly nearby were still untouched—silent reminders that this was real, that you were here now.
Getting your things back from your home had been easier than expected. You’d slipped in while your father was at work, your heart racing as you moved quietly through the familiar halls. The moment your hand wrapped around your wand—left behind for safekeeping during the wedding—it felt like you could finally breathe again. You packed up your life swiftly, shrinking and sending each box to Theo’s flat before you could second-guess yourself.
“It feels weird seeing all my stuff here.” You murmured, running your fingers over your old Slytherin scarf. A soft smile tugged at your lips as memories from Hogsmeade weekends and late-night gossip sessions filled your head. Back in school, your dormmates used to call dibs on the boys in your year—Pansy obviously claimed Draco, Daphne was hell-bent on Mattheo (she had a thing for bad boys, she used to say). The others squabbled over Blaise and Lorenzo, leaving you with Theo by default. You’d taken it in stride, because Merlin forbid you end up with Crabbe or Goyle. If only sixth-year you knew you’d one day be living with Theo Nott after bolting from your own wedding.
“Like this is really happening.” You said softly.
Theo leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching you with a look you couldn’t quite place. You let your eyes rake over him—how he somehow made jeans and a simple black long-sleeved tee look sinfully good without even trying.
“Don’t you want to unpack?” He asked after a moment, voice casual, “Make it feel a bit more like yours?”
You shook your head, teeth tugging at your lower lip, “I don’t want to get too comfortable. I need to move out soon, find my own place. Can’t just settle in someone else’s flat.”
Your eyes drifted to the empty dresser and the bare walls, imagining them filled with your perfume bottles, your shoes lined up in the closet, your keepsakes resting in quiet corners of the room. It felt… indulgent. And dangerous.
Theo pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room with that quiet confidence that always made your stomach flip. He crouched beside you, fingers brushing yours as he gently pulled the scarf from your hands.
“Don’t be so pressured,” He said softly, “Take your time.”
Your breath caught at the tenderness in his voice, so at odds with the sarcasm he usually deflected with. His gaze held yours—warm, steady, unflinching.
“What kind of fake adulterous whore would I be,” he added, smirking just a little, “if I didn’t give you a comfortable place to stay while you figure things out?”
You let out a shaky laugh, swatting his arm as your cheeks flushed. The warmth in his eyes made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear. It felt... safe. For the first time in a long time.
He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering just a second too long. Your breath hitched. Your heart thudded. And before you could stop yourself, your gaze flicked to his mouth.
The moment hung there—suspended and fragile—until it broke like glass.
Theo cleared his throat and pulled back. You dropped your gaze and fanned your burning cheeks, pretending not to notice the way your entire body buzzed with unspoken tension.
He stood, casting a quick glance around the room before his eyes landed on a box labeled “Bathroom.” With a quiet smile, he bent to pick it up.
“I’ll go put this over there.” He said, voice gentler now even though you both were well aware he could've used his magic to charm the objects in its place.
You watched him go, heart fluttering wildly in your chest, feeling strangely steady for the first time in days.
Strangely at home.
***
Watching Theo get ready for work every morning had become your newest, most humbling routine. In the quiet hours before he left—hair perfectly styled, cufflinks glinting faintly in the sunlight—you were struck with the growing realization that your life was a blank page. And not in the hopeful, inspiring way. No, it felt like staring at an overdue assignment you had no idea how to finish.
When he was home, everything felt a little easier—light conversation over breakfast, quiet companionship in the evenings, his effortless presence filling the flat with a calm you hadn’t realized you craved. But once he was out the door, you were left with hours that stretched out like an endless, silent ache. And with that ache came the inevitable realization: you weren’t here to play house with Theodore Nott. You needed to get your life in order.
Which was why, this morning, you were dressed. Not just dressed—put together. A soft, Chanel-inspired ensemble hugged your form, elegant and mature, polished right down to the glossy sheen of your lips.
Across the table, Theo sat in his usual tailored suit and tie, sipping his coffee while reading the newspaper.
He was a dream roommate—unbothered, polite, attentive without being invasive. He cooked most mornings and evenings, and you handled lunch and dishes out of principle more than anything else. And yet, no matter how well you split the duties, you still felt like a freeloader in silk pajamas. He never asked you to contribute, never brought up rent or groceries or anything at all.
Which, ironically, only made the guilt settle heavier in your chest.
It was unbearable. So this newfound spark of motivation—this desire to prove you could stand on your own two feet again—burned fast and hot.
He was fixing his watch by the mirror beside the door, running gelled fingers through his hair, smoothing it back with that practiced grace. You stepped over, holding his coat in one hand and yours in the other, and offered it to him with a quiet, “Here.”
He murmured a small thanks as he slipped into it, but you didn’t step back.
Instead, you reached up to adjust his tie, fingers deft as you corrected the slight tilt in the knot. “I know you’re just going to mess it up the second you get to the office,” you said, smiling softly, “but it’s driving me crazy.”
You smoothed the tie down gently, fingertips brushing the lapels of his coat. When your eyes lifted, you caught him staring—not at your eyes, but your lips, still slick with gloss from your post-breakfast touch-up, and suddenly it felt like a mistake to stand this close, in this kind of silence, with him looking at you like that.
You met his gaze. Your heart stuttered.
Was he leaning in?
Or were you imagining it—some cruel trick your body played when it got too used to his scent, his proximity, the low hum of affection that vibrated just beneath the surface?
Before you could answer, he inhaled sharply and stepped back, the moment snapping like a taut string.
“Busy day today?” He asked, voice neutral, composed.
You cleared your throat, recovering quickly.
“Yeah,” You said, grabbing your purse and your coat, avoiding his eyes, “I’m visiting Slughorn at Hogwarts. I was always good at potions, and he used to favor me—mostly because I always showed up to those ridiculous Slug Club meetings.” You gave a faint chuckle.
“I heard he’s still teaching and struggling to keep up with his personal research. I was kind of his unofficial assistant in seventh year, so… I’m hoping he’ll consider taking me on. As an apprentice or something.”
You kept your tone light, casual, even though your pulse thudded in your throat. You avoided his eyes as you adjusted the strap of your purse.
Theo held the door open for you, and your heart flipped in your chest like it always did when he did things like that without thinking—like it was natural. Like you belonged here.
“Good luck, (Y/N).” He said simply, his voice low but earnest.
You turned your head slightly, offering him a small smile. The way he was looking at you made your steps falter for just a second.
“Thank you.” You said, voice barely above a whisper.
And then you walked on, heels clicking softly on the marble floor, heart fluttering like mad against your ribs.
***
You practically skipped down the stone steps of Hogwarts, the weight of your nervous anticipation completely lifted from your shoulders. The crisp air smelled of old parchment and damp moss, and for once, you didn’t mind. Your cheeks were flushed, your hands clutching the letter Slughorn had scrawled in excitement after your meeting: an official offer to join him as his private research assistant, with the intent of training you to become a certified Potions Master.
Your heart was hammering by the time you reached Theo’s flat, and you didn’t even knock—just flung the door open and stepped inside, calling his name like a storm announcing itself.
“Theo!”
He appeared from the hallway, towel slung over his shoulder, clearly mid-way through drying his hair, shirt sleeves rolled up, “What? Are you okay?”
You beamed so brightly you could’ve lit the whole room with just the force of it, “I got it—I got the position! I’m going to train with Slughorn! He’s taking me on!”
For a second, Theo just blinked at you, frozen in place. Then your words seemed to register fully and he opened his mouth to say something—but before he could, you launched yourself at him.
Your arms flung around his neck, and he caught you with a startled grunt, stumbling back half a step before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, instinctively keeping you upright. You laughed, giddy and breathless against his shoulder, your legs kicking slightly off the ground.
“I knew you would.” He said against your temple, voice low and warm and slightly amused, though the hug he gave you was grounding, solid, and real.
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes bright, “I’m going to be a Potions Master.”
Theo’s hands stayed on your waist, his lips twitching into a rare, open smile, “You’re going to be brilliant.”
You didn’t know what possessed you then—maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the way he was still holding you like you were something precious—but you leaned in without thinking and pressed a kiss to his cheek, quick and full of warmth.
Theo blinked, stunned.
You blinked, too, realizing what you just did.
He slowly set you down on your feet, clearing his throat, but the faintest shade of pink had crept up his neck.
"Thank you, Theo." You whispered, looking up at him like he hung the moon in the sky, "For everything."
***
You were halfway through folding the laundry while Theo showered when the door flew open with no warning, the sharp click of heels on hardwood echoing like the cue for a dramatic entrance.
“Surprise, darling!” Pansy announced grandly, stepping into the apartment with a flourish, a pastry box in one hand and designer sunglasses in the other, “I brought macarons from that place you liked in Paris—Theo, you better be decent!”
She strutted into the living room expecting to find her best friend brooding over black coffee, muttering about case files or the Ministry’s latest idiocy.
Instead, she found you.
Her heel halted mid-click. Her eyes went wide, lips parting in stunned recognition.
“(Y/N)?”
You blinked, holding a half-folded jumper, “Hi—?”
The pastry box slipped from her fingers, forgotten as she gasped.
“(Y/N)!”
Before you could react, she barreled across the room, arms wide, heels thudding across the floor. She crashed into you with a hug that nearly knocked you into the couch, her perfume wrapping around you like a familiar blanket as she squeezed you breathless.
You laughed, arms wrapping around her just as tightly, “Oh God, I’m so sorry I didn’t make it to the wedding! I couldn’t get a Portkey in time—I felt awful. I’ve missed you so much!”
Pansy pulled back to get a proper look at you, holding you at arm’s length like she needed to confirm you were real, “Oh, how’s newlywed life treating you? How’s your husband—” she started brightly, then trailed off.
Her eyes scanned your outfit—comfy shorts and an old Quidditch tee—and then flicked to the half-folded laundry scattered across the coffee table.
And that was precisely the moment Theo stepped out of the bathroom.
Shirtless. Damp. Joggers slung low on his hips. A towel around his neck, his hair still dripping.
Pansy blinked. You blinked. Theo froze like a deer in headlights.
Her eyes snapped between you and Theo. Once. Twice.
Her jaw dropped.
“No. Bloody. Way.”
You swallowed hard, “I, uh... I ran from the altar. I’ve been living here for a month. Surprise?”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“You absolute plonkers!” Pansy shouted, whirling around like a furious peacock as the front door opened again and the rest of the boys filtered in—Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, Enzo—all pausing mid-step at the scene.
Theo grimaced.
Pansy turned on Draco with fury, “You ranted to me for an hour last night about Potter’s work ethic, but you didn’t think to mention that one of my closest friends from school ran out of her own wedding and moved in with Theo?”
Draco’s eyes widened, “I thought you knew!”
“You lot are unbelievable.” She huffed, throwing her hands up.
Draco looked caught somewhere between amusement and panic. Blaise choked on a laugh. Mattheo raised his hands in mock innocence.
Pansy, eyes glittering with mischief, turned back to you with an exasperated scoff, “We’re getting drinks tonight. You and I are going to unpack every bloody bit of this madness. And if there’s any scandal you’re hiding from me, I swear to Merlin—”
You gave her a sheepish smile, heart fluttering with the kind of warmth that only old friendships could bring.
“I wish. But I can’t tonight. I’m working with Slughorn now—officially—and I’ve got my first full day tomorrow. Still need to study up a bit. I really don’t want to get fired before I even make it to lunch.”
Pansy’s features softened instantly. She stepped forward, cupping your cheeks with warm hands and smoothing your hair in a way that made your eyes sting.
“Slughorn?” She breathed, proud and a little misty, “You’re working with Slughorn? That’s incredible. I’m so proud of you.”
Your throat tightened, “Thanks, Pansy. God, I missed you. Let’s do a proper catch-up this weekend, yeah? I don’t want to keep you from your homecoming party—you should go have fun.”
She nodded and pulled you into one last tight hug. “This weekend,” she warned playfully, “or I swear I’ll come kidnap you from this flat myself.”
You laughed, hugging her back, “Deal.”
Just then, Theo reappeared in the living room, now fully dressed and slipping his watch onto his wrist. He reached for his coat, but you were already there, stepping behind him to help him shrug it on.
“Don’t you have to be up early tomorrow?” You asked gently, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve.
From behind you, Blaise gave a low whistle.
“Ooooh, listen to that,” Mattheo drawled with a teasing grin, “Wifey’s making sure the hubby gets to bed on time.”
Theo rolled his eyes, already used to these jokes and glanced down at you, a quiet smile pulling at his lips, “It’s just one drink.”
You sighed, half amused, half resigned, “Okay. Just… don’t come home completely smashed.”
“No promises.” He said with a wink, and the door shut behind them seconds later.
***
The bar buzzed with the low hum of chatter, clinking glasses, and a jazz cover of a Weird Sisters song playing over the speakers. The group had claimed a corner booth, drinks in hand, laughter spilling over every few minutes.
Theo nursed a firewhisky, sitting back with his usual composed expression which caught the attention of Mattheo, “Oh, don’t drink that too fast, Teddy boy. You don’t want to go back absolutely hammered to the missus.”
“You lot are ridiculous,” Theo muttered, though a hint of fondness softened his tone.
“Oh, come off it,” Blaise grinned, swirling his drink, “You like it. You’re practically glowing these days. It’s very unnerving.”
“Very domestic of you, Theo,” Enzo added, smirking, “Sharing a flat, cooking her breakfast, letting her steal your clothes—”
“She doesn’t steal my clothes.”
Mattheo grinned, “Mate, I saw her wearing your Chudley Cannons jumper yesterday.”
Theo looked away, clearly caught.
Pansy took a slow sip of her cocktail, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Honestly, I’m shocked you let her stay with you. You’re usually so…” She waved a perfectly manicured hand, “emotionally unavailable. Allergic to company, really.”
Blaise leaned in, eyes gleaming, “I mean hardly a surprise considering how badly gone he was for her back in school.”
Pansy froze mid-sip.
“Wait—what? Who was gone for who?!” she gasped, nearly slamming her glass on the table, voice sharp with disbelief.
The boys blinked in surprise.
“You didn’t know?” Draco asked, brows raised.
“You’re kidding,” Blaise said, laughing, “You always shoved them into group projects and made them sit together during dinners — we thought you were matchmaking!”
“I was!” Pansy snapped, whipping around to glare at Draco, “Because I wanted to go with you, and the other cows in our dorm had already called dibs on Enzo, Mattheo, and Blaise. Theo was just—left!”
She turned back to the table, eyes wide with the horror of missed opportunity, “Don’t you think if I’d known he fancied her, I would’ve shoved them into a broom cupboard and locked the door?”
Mattheo cackled, “That’s so on-brand for you.”
Pansy groaned, dramatically dropping her head onto Draco’s shoulder, “You absolute wankers. If one of you had opened your mouth years ago, that wedding she had a month ago? Could’ve been yours, Theo.”
Theo sipped his firewhisky quietly, hidden behind the rim of his glass. Flashes of you in a wedding dress and veil flickered behind his eyes, a soft blush spreading across his neck. None of them missed it.
Blaise nudged Mattheo, “He’s thinking about it now.”
“Oh, he’s been thinking about it.”
Theo threw his head back, downing the rest of his firewhiskey in one go, “I need another drink.”
***
The door flew open with a crash, nearly coming off its hinges.
“We have arrived!” Lorenzo declared, clearly drunk, arms wide, as if expecting applause.
Theo stumbled in between Blaise and Mattheo, arms slung over their shoulders like a war hero being carried off the battlefield. His shirt was half-untucked, hair a mess, and his eyes—when he managed to open them—were glassy and unfocused.
You poked your head out from the kitchen, arms crossed, “What happened to ‘just one drink’?”
“He drank.” Blaise said simply.
“Like a fish.” Mattheo added.
“Like a moron.” Draco corrected as he strolled in behind them, tossing Theo’s coat over a chair, “He’s your problem now.”
Theo blinked at the sound of your voice and perked up immediately. “Tesoro!” He slurred, trying to walk toward you but very nearly face-planting into the floor. You caught him under the arm just in time.
“Hi, Theo,” You said softly, “Oh gosh you smell like bad decisions.”
“You need to eat,” You added, “Something starchy. Or you’re going to feel like roadkill tomorrow.”
“He never eats when he’s like this,” Blaise said from where he was sprawled over a kitchen chair, “We’ve tried. It’s hopeless.”
“Chi mangia bene, vive bene, remember?” You said softly, probably butchering his mother's saying as you guided Theo toward the table.
That stopped him. His gaze sharpened just enough to find your eyes.
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours with a quiet breath, “E chi ha te… ha tutto.”
Your heart skipped even though you hadn't a clue what he just said.
Mattheo made an exaggerated gagging noise, “Okay, Casanova, wrap it up.”
Draco, grinning, gave you a mock bow, “He’s all yours. Good luck with drunk Shakespeare.”
As the door shut behind them, Theo was still leaning on you, breathing you in like he needed your scent to stay upright.
“You smell like a distillery.” You said, amused.
“You smell like home.” He mumbled.
Your cheeks warmed, and you pushed the plate gently into his lap, “Eat your toast, Romeo.”
***
The bar was warm and golden, tucked away on a cobbled side street with velvet booths and enchanted candles flickering lazily overhead. You and Pansy had claimed a prime table by the window, cocktails already half-finished and a bowl of enchanted peanuts floating between you, occasionally popping like popcorn.
“I swear,” Pansy said, leaning in conspiratorially, “if Draco mentions his new wand polish one more time, I will hex him bald.”
You snorted into your drink, eyes gleaming, “You wouldn’t. You like running your hands through his hair too much.”
She grinned, “Touché. But I’d still threaten it. Keeps him humble.”
It was the first proper girls’ night out you’d had in what felt like forever, and Pansy — ever the scene-stealing, chaos-bringing goddess she was — made it feel like the war, the heartbreak, and everything in between had never happened.
“So,” She drawled, resting her chin on her palm with a wicked glint in her eye, “Tell me everything. Are you dating? Shagging? Secretly married? Come on, give me the details.”
You laughed, swirling the pink liquid in your glass — some fruity, glittering cocktail you hadn’t tasted since your Hogwarts days. It cooled your fingers while your cheeks burned hotter by the second.
You rolled your eyes, trying to bite back your smile, “It’s not like that, Pans. We’re just good friends. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have made it this far without him.”
“Oh darling,” She said with mock pity, “it’s always ‘not like that’ until you’re wearing his jumpers and catching feelings.”
You opened your mouth to object—but the words caught in your throat. You had worn his jumper. You were catching feelings.
Pansy’s eyes widened. She gasped, clutching her chest with dramatic flair, “No. No way. You like him.”
“I didn’t say that." You muttered.
“You didn’t have to!” She squealed, grabbing your hands across the table, “Oh, you poor lovesick thing. I knew it. I knew it!”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands, “You are insufferable.”
“I’m right, though,” She sang smugly, taking another sip of her drink, “And I actually happen to know that our dear Teddy has been—”
“(Y/N).”
The voice cut through the air like a curse.
You froze.
Pansy’s glass paused halfway to her lips. Her smile vanished.
Your blood ran cold. You didn’t have to look to know who it was — that voice had once lived in your dreams. Now it only haunted your nightmares.
Slowly, you turned in your seat.
And saw your ex-fiancé standing at the edge of your table.
You stared up at him, heart thudding so hard it felt like it might crack your ribs. He looked mostly the same — slicked-back hair that tried too hard to look effortless, a coat more expensive than it was tasteful, and that same smirk he always wore like armor. His jaw was tighter now, clenched like he hadn’t unclenched it in months. His eyes were cold, sunken a little, and mean in a way they didn’t even bother to hide.
“I didn’t expect to find you here.” He said, voice low, razor-edged.
Pansy was on her feet before you could speak, stepping in front of you like a drawn wand. “And yet here you are,” She said, all sugar and venom, “Funny how you manage to show up where no one wants you.”
He didn’t even glance at her. His eyes stayed locked on you, “We need to talk.”
“No, we really don’t,” Pansy snapped, “Back off before I hex your bits so far inward you’ll need a St. Mungo’s specialist to find them.”
“Pansy,” you murmured, brushing your fingers against her sleeve. Your hand was shaking.
He took a step closer, “Just five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
You rose slowly, pushing your chair back, jaw tight, “Fine. Five minutes. Nothing more.”
“Absolutely not—” Pansy began, but you shook your head.
“I’m okay.”
You weren’t. Not even remotely. But you needed this to end. To really end.
The night air was sharp against your skin, the hum of the city muffled as you stepped into the alley behind the bar. You folded your arms, more out of defense than cold.
“So this is what it takes to find you now?” He said, voice curling with disdain, “Are you selling yourself like a whore on street corners now?”
You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your voice steady, “What do you want?”
He took a step forward, “I heard the rumors. People talk, you know. Especially when a bride vanishes in silk and ends up playing house with that filthy blood traitor Theodore Nott.”
Your lips parted in disbelief.
“I should’ve known,” he sneered, “You always acted so self-righteous. But look at you now — just another slag hopping into the next man’s bed. Must be nice not needing vows to spread your legs, yeah?”
The words hit like a slap, your stomach twisting with fury and disbelief.
“I’m done listening to this.”
You turned—and before you could even brace yourself, he yanked you sharply by the collar and slammed you hard against the brick wall. The air whooshed out of your lungs as your back hit the cold surface, the impact jarring your entire body.
His hands tightened suddenly around your throat, fingers digging into your skin in a cruel grip. You gasped for air, panic surging as darkness edged your vision.
“Don’t you dare think you can just walk away from me.” He hissed through clenched teeth, eyes wild and merciless.
You clawed at his hands, desperate to break free, but his strength was overwhelming, pressing down harder, choking the breath from you.
"Reducto!"
The spell hit him square in the chest, blasting him off you with bone-jarring force. He flew backward, crashing into the far wall of the alley with a sickening thud before collapsing in a heap, gasping and stunned.
Pansy didn’t hesitate.
She stormed toward him like a vengeful shadow, wand leveled between his eyes as he groaned and tried to sit up. Her voice was shaking—but only with rage.
“You filthy little coward,” she spat, every word laced with venom, “Touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your body.”
He growled, trying to rise—Pansy kicked him flat in the chest, knocking him back to the ground with her heel, “Stay. Down.”
Your knees buckled, the sudden rush of oxygen burning your throat as you slid down the wall, coughing and trembling.
“Whoa—hey.” Pansy caught you, strong and certain, one arm steadying you as the other clutched her wand, “I’ve got you, love. You’re okay. We’re going home.”
And this time, you let her carry the weight.
***
The world spun sharply as Pansy apparated, the crack of displaced air still echoing in your ears. The warmth of her body vanished the moment your feet hit solid ground—wood floors, familiar scents. You were in Theo’s flat.
Laughter and chatter from the living room fell to a jarring halt.
Five pairs of eyes turned in unison: Theo, Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, and Enzo—all frozen mid-conversation, drinks in hand. The moment they saw you, everything dropped.
“(Y/N)?”
Your name left Theo like a punch to the gut.
You were trembling, arms wrapped tight around your middle as if they could hold your ribs together. Pansy still held onto you, as if she wasn’t entirely sure you wouldn’t collapse, and even she looked rattled under the scrutiny of the room.
“That fucker,” She said through gritted teeth, “Grabbed her outside the bar. Slammed her into a wall. Tried to—” her voice faltered, thick with fury, “She couldn’t breathe.”
Theo moved.
Fast.
He crossed the room in three strides, gently brushing Pansy aside like she was made of smoke. Then he was in front of you, hands hovering for a split second before he cupped your face, cradling you like you were something fragile and sacred.
His eyes roamed over your features—your split lip, your glassy eyes, the bruising fingerprints beginning to bloom like violets around your throat—and something in him shattered.
His jaw clenched, fury crashing through him like a tidal wave. He looked like he could tear the world apart.
“I’m fine.” You rasped, voice barely more than a whisper.
You tried to smile—a brittle, curling thing, “I know that probably doesn’t help my case, but… trust me, I’m fine.”
“Don’t do that,” Theo said softly, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, his voice hoarse and tight, “Don’t lie to me right now.”
Your breath hitched.
Draco hovered beside Pansy now, brushing her hair behind her ear as he muttered something only she could hear. She nodded once, giving her boyfriend a soft smile before turning her gaze back to you, eyes gleaming with steel.
Theo gently tugged you forward into his chest.
You didn’t resist.
You couldn’t.
Your limbs had surrendered somewhere between the alley and the flat, and he was warm, steady—home. Before you could stop it, a sob cracked loose from your chest, raw and shaking. Your hands fisted into his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to earth.
He held you tighter.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, voice trembling beneath the quiet, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
The flat was eerily quiet now. One by one, the boys filtered out, their faces grim with the weight of what had just happened.
Mattheo lingered just long enough to press a firm, reassuring hand to your shoulder. His voice was low, steady, almost a promise, “You’re safe now. We’ll take care of everything from here.”
Blaise didn’t say a word. Instead, he gave a slow, deliberate nod to Theo, then to you, his expression taut with barely restrained anger and resolve.
Enzo’s jaw clenched as he glanced at you one last time. “He’s a dead man,” he muttered under his breath before turning away and joining the others.
You barely noticed them leaving. Your world had shrunk to the steady rhythm of Theo’s heartbeat humming against your ear, the comforting warmth of his hand pressing into your back, and the ache lodged deep in your chest — a raw, stubborn pain that refused to fade.
“I want him arrested. Tonight.” Pansy’s voice cut through the silence like ice, cold and deadly calm but laced with a fury that made the room vibrate, “Draco, I’m serious. He attacked her in public. Slammed her against a wall. Choked her until she could barely breathe.”
Draco’s tone was clipped, measured, but the sharp edge of anger was unmistakable, “You have a name?”
“Graham Bulstrode.” Pansy replied without hesitation, her voice razor-sharp and unyielding.
Draco’s jaw tightened, “Consider it done, my love.”
Every word settled into your foggy mind — distant but painfully clear. The tremble in your hands hadn’t stopped, but Theo’s arms wrapped around you only tightened, as if willing to keep the danger at bay. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your head, a quiet vow whispered without words.
When the door finally clicked shut behind the last of the others, the tension finally broke. The tears you had been holding back surged forward, hot and fierce, tumbling freely down your cheeks. You clung to him, the safety of his presence grounding you as the storm inside began to settle.
You buried your face in Theo’s chest, shoulders trembling as the sobs broke free, wracking your entire body with every breath. He held you through it, solid and steady, one hand gently combing through your hair like he could smooth away the terror still clinging to your skin.
“I’m so stupid,” You gasped, the words catching in your throat, “I’ve—I’ve thought about that moment for the past month. What I’d say. How I’d stand up for myself. I imagined throwing that stupid ring back in his smug face, saying something cutting, something final—but when it actually happened…”
Your voice cracked, guilt burning behind your ribs.
“I couldn’t even speak. I just froze. I have a wand but I couldn't cast a single spell. I let him say all that shit about me—about you—and I... I didn’t even defend you, Theo. I’m so sorry. I'm so useless.”
He didn’t answer right away.
He just held you tighter, like your apology hurt more than anything else that had happened. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet—gentle, but resolute.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
His words rumbled in his chest, warm against your cheek.
“I don’t give a damn about what you said or didn’t say to him. You don’t owe me a defense—not ever.”
You looked up at him, blinking through the tears. His eyes found yours, fierce and heartbreakingly soft, like you were something sacred—something he’d never let break.
“And you’re not stupid, (Y/N), or useless,” He said, voice thick with emotion, “You’re incredible. Brave. Stronger than you even realize. And I’m so fucking proud of you.”
His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead—gentle, grounding, safe.
“He’s not going to get away with this,” Theo whispered, “I promise you.”
You sighed, sinking deeper into him, like you could finally let go of everything you’d been holding in. His arms wrapped around you again, warm and sure.
“Come on,” he murmured, “Let’s treat that bruise. Get you something to eat.”
But you shook your head, face pressed tight against his chest.
“Don’t let me go.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore—it was tender, healing. You curled into him like you could disappear there, into the rhythm of his breathing and the thrum of his heart.
“I’m never going to let you go.”
And you believed him.
His heartbeat echoed beneath your ear, strong and unwavering. With every beat, the weight in your chest began to lift—slowly, steadily.
Safe. Loved. Finally, home.
***
A couple weeks later it was raining softly outside, the kind of slow, constant drizzle that blurred the windows and made the world feel far away. You and Theo were curled up on the couch, legs tangled, a blanket lazily thrown across your laps. A half-empty mug sat abandoned on the coffee table beside a crumpled takeout bag. The telly hummed faintly in the background, long forgotten.
“So then she goes, ‘I forgot to run the control,’” You said, exasperated, “and I swear to Merlin, I have never seen Slughorn that mad in his life.”
Theo snorted, one arm draped across your shoulders, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, “Serves her right for always nicking your freshly ground moonstone.”
“Right? And of course, the one day I’m not there to supervise her, she completely tanks it. It’s not like I was goofing off—I was at the Ministry signing off the paperwork for Bulstrode's trial.” You sighed, “Slughorn knew, so I didn’t get in trouble, but I still have to repeat all her damn trials for the next few weeks. As if I don’t already have enough on my plate.”
“What’s keeping you so busy, Bella?” Theo asked, smiling as he gently unraveled the curl and let it spring back into place, “Maybe I can help.”
“Well, I’ve been needing to check out some apartments. Can’t really leave that to you, now can I?” You yawned, “But if you want, we could go together?”
Theo stilled.
He pulled back just slightly, brows furrowed as he studied your face, “Apartment hunting?”
You blinked, “Yeah… I’ve been looking at places closer to work. Just something small. I mean, I don’t make much yet.”
There was a beat of silence, then, “Wait—(Y/N), are you planning to move out?”
You nodded slowly, suddenly self-conscious, “I mean—I’ve been here for a while now and I love it, obviously, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. I figured—”
“You think you’re overstaying?” His voice cut gently but sharply through your words.
You faltered, “Well, I just—”
“You’re not,” Theo said, a little breathless now, like the words had been sitting on the edge of his tongue for too long, “You’re not overstaying. I want you here.”
Your breath hitched.
“I want to come home to you. Every day. Not to an empty flat. Not to a world where you’re somewhere else.”
His hand found yours, threading your fingers together like a lifeline. His voice dropped lower, steadier.
“Stay. Please.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and sure, “I want to come home knowing the woman I love is safe. Here. With me.”
You stared at him, wide-eyed, the world narrowing to his hand in yours, the soft thunder of rain against the windows, the warmth of his words blooming in your chest like magic.
“What do you mean, the woman you love?”
Theo let out a quiet laugh, a little stunned you hadn’t realized it already. His smile turned lopsided, eyes shining.
“Are you daft, (Y/N)?” He said, voice thick, “I’m in love with you. I’ve been taken with you since we were kids, and I’m still—” He broke off for a breath, like the truth was catching up to him all at once. “Still completely gone for you.”
Your heart did something unsteady in your chest.
“Say it again.” You whispered.
He cupped your cheek with one hand, his eyes never leaving yours.
“I’m in love with you.”
Your heart stuttered. The words lingered in the air between you, delicate and heavy all at once—like the hush after a spell’s been cast.
You didn’t look away.
You couldn’t.
“I’ve loved you for a long time too, Theo,” You whispered, the confession trembling on your tongue, “I don’t even know when it started—when I began falling for you—but I did. And I fell hard. I mean, who wouldn’t?”
You smiled through the softness in your voice, “You’re the kindest, most patient man I’ve ever met… and I’m thanking my lucky stars that I met you on the day of my wedding.”
That pulled a laugh from him—warm, full, and brimming with disbelief. He tilted his head back slightly, grinning like you’d just handed him the entire sky.
You leaned in just a fraction, voice softer now, “I want to stay. Not just in the flat. In your life. With you.”
That did it.
Theo closed the distance, his hands cradling your face as his lips found yours in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was fierce and tender all at once—like a dam breaking, like every moment of yearning pouring out of him in one breathless, burning exhale.
You melted into him, arms winding around his neck, your body pressed close as the kiss deepened—hungry now, desperate. His fingers tangled in your hair, yours fisting in his shirt, both of you trying to memorize the moment, to feel every inch of it like it could make up for all the waiting.
Weeks—months—of unspoken words, of lingering touches and stolen glances, of intimate moments that always ended with breathless silences and aching restraint—crashed into a single breath.
Theo kissed you like you were his lifeline—like he’d been holding back a storm and had finally been given permission to let it break.
You gasped as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, your throat—reverent, hungry, like he was rediscovering you with every breath. “Tell me to stop,” He murmured, voice hoarse with restraint, “Say the word, and I will.”
But you didn’t. You couldn’t.
Instead, you tugged him closer, heart pounding under his palm as your fingers slid into his hair, voice trembling with a dangerous sort of affection, “If you stop, Theodore Nott, I’m sleeping at Pansy’s tonight.”
He let out a low, incredulous laugh—half-choked and fully wrecked—then kissed you again, deeper this time. Certain. Claiming. The rain tapped gently against the windows, forgotten behind the haze of fogged glass and the thrum of two hearts finally letting go.
And when he lifted you off the couch, carrying you down the hall with all the tenderness in the world and not an ounce of hesitation, the only thing either of you could think was:
About bloody time.
***
It was barely 9 a.m. when the front door to Theo’s flat creaked open—again, without so much as a knock.
Mattheo’s voice cut through the quiet, “I swear, if this idiot didn’t do the groceries and we hiked all the way here for his strawberries for nothing, I’m setting the place on fire.”
“I brought croissants.” Lorenzo offered brightly.
“You brought them from my kitchen,” Draco said flatly, “You literally stole them from my counter.”
Theo stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Do none of you understand the concept of boundaries?”
He was mid-scowl when Blaise’s voice drifted in from the hallway, “Don't you imbeciles think it's too early to—”
And then they all fell silent.
You had just stepped out of the bedroom—the master bedroom this time, not the guest room—bleary-eyed and yawning, wearing nothing but Theo’s hoodie. Again. Hair a little messy, legs bare, looking entirely at home.
Draco blinked, “Déjà vu.”
Mattheo let out a dramatic sigh, “Alright, but like… why is it always the hoodie and no pants? Not that I’m complaining—it’s just, you know what, never mind.”
Blaise leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, “So what’s the excuse this time? Sleepwalking? Laundry explosion? Sudden amnesia about how trousers work?”
You didn’t even flinch.
“We’re dating,” You said flatly, tugging the sleeve of Theo’s hoodie over your hand as you rubbed your eye, “And I’m not wearing pants because I had sex with your friend. Good morning.”
Silence.
Four pairs of stunned eyes stared at you.
Lorenzo made a choked noise, “I—okay.”
Mattheo sputtered, hands flailing, “You can’t just say that without warning!”
“You asked.” You replied dryly.
Draco took a long sip of coffee, muttering behind the rim of his mug, “I owe Pansy ten Galleons.”
***
Bonus:
Your heart pounded as you stared at the closed doors, the soft strains of the wedding march beginning to drift through the wood. Your palms were sweaty around the bouquet you carried, nerves and excitement swirling in your chest.
Then, the doors swung open, revealing you in a stunning white dress, your smile bright and genuine as you began your walk down the aisle. The hush of the ceremony wrapped around you like a warm embrace, the aisle stretching ahead lined with friends and family.
A memory flickered through your mind—just a couple of years ago, you had run away from a different wedding down the hall, only to find refuge in this very chapel. It was here that you met your to-be husband, the love of your life.
Your eyes locked onto the man standing across the room, looking impossibly handsome in his tailored suit. His gaze locked onto you immediately, and for a moment, all the noise and bustle melted away. It was just you and him.
Only a few feet separated you now, but something in your heart couldn’t wait. Before you realized what you were doing, you broke into a gentle run—this time towards the groom.
Theo’s face broke into a gentle smile—the kind reserved only for you—as he reached for you. Before you could even think twice, his arms closed around you, catching you effortlessly. Your feet lifted from the floor as he spun you gently, twirling you in a slow, perfect circle.
The world blurred—lights, faces, music—all faded into a whirl of warmth and happiness.
He pressed his forehead to yours, a slow smile curling on his lips as he whispered, "You just can't wait to marry me, can you?"
You laughed softly, breath warm against his skin, "I couldn’t run away—tried it before. Too much work."
His eyes sparkled with amusement and love as he pulled you closer, the world around you fading into nothing but this perfect, shared moment.
***
EXTRA BONUS BECAUSE I CAN HEHEHE:
Hogwarts, Year 6:
You glanced across the potions table, scanning the clutter of ingredients before turning slightly toward the Slytherin bench.
“Theodore?” You said cautiously, holding your crushed lacewing flies with gloved fingers, “Could I borrow the asphodel? Just for a sec.”
He looked up from his cauldron like you’d just asked for his wand. There was a pause. Not rude, not angry—just... blank. Then, wordlessly, he slid the jar toward you across the table. His fingers brushed yours for the briefest moment when you took it. Cold skin. A little spark. His hand recoiled like he’d been burned.
“Oh. Um. Thanks.” You murmured, blinking.
He just gave a short nod, already turning away, jaw tight as he went back to slicing his valerian root like it had offended him personally.
You blinked again, confused, then padded back over to your side of the room where Pansy was lounging against the workbench like it was a chaise lounge in the Slytherin common room.
She quirked an eyebrow, “What was that?”
You shrugged, a slight pout forming on your lips, “I don’t know. I guess he just really doesn’t like me.”
Pansy snorted, “Please. If Theo really didn’t like you, you’d know.”
Meanwhile, across the room, Theo was absolutely not concentrating on his potion anymore. He was staring blankly into the cauldron, stirring too fast, ears tinged pink.
a lot of slytherin boys fic authors i follow have such aesthetic looking blogs, and i’ve noticed that they tend to put their entire fics/masterlists/etc in the tiny tumblr font (yk, this thing, but like— the whole post is in this). i lowkey kind of love the way it looks, but im not sure if that would make my blog less accessible to my readers? any advice/suggestions appreciated!!
Summary: The beach house had always been a magical place for Mattheo, he’d been coming down every summer since he could remember. But this year, something was different in the water.
word count: 4.8k
tw: mentions of blood, several near death encounters
Mattheo had been visiting the beach house every summer since before he could walk. All his happiest memories were stored there, covered in sand and smelling of salty ocean air. It was a magical place his mother had told him once as they sat together on the beach, watching waves crash onto the shore. That was the only happy memory he had of his mother.
Now Mattheo came out to the small, remote beach house alone most summers. Enjoying the solitude and relishing the freedom the ocean waves brought with them. It was truly one of the only places where Mattheo felt like himself.
“Matt! Come on! Last one to the beach is a crusty sea pickle!” Theo shouts as he sprints past his best friend, heading straight for the white capped waves.
This year Mattheo had company at the beach house. Not that he minded, Theo was his best friend after all. A smile forms on the boy’s lips as he watches his friend grow smaller in the distance before taking off himself and letting the sea breeze whisk away another year’s worth of worry and stress.
He’d missed the way his feet sunk into the sand and the cool spray of ocean mist. Hell he’d even missed the seagulls and the way they followed him around hoping to scavenge for a few crumbs.
Theo’s already in the water, splashing about not even bothering with swim trunks.
“Hurry up Matt!” Theo shouts again before disappearing under the waves, popping back up moments later, hair plastered to his forehead.
Letting out a carefree whoop, Mattheo joins his friend, salt water soaking him to the core as he dives in, the ocean engulfing him with ease. The pair laugh as they splash about, diving beneath the waves and letting the current take them.
“We have to go snorkeling later, there are some reefs right off the point over there. I’ll bring the gear down from the house,” Mattheo tells his friend as the tide carries them back to shore.
The ocean water was warm today near the coast. A welcome change from the colder currents of the deep ocean trenches. You knew it was risky, coming to the surface during the warmer months of the year. The beaches were almost always infested with humans, but you’d found a nice stretch of coast that had remained relatively untouched over the years.
“If you get taken by the humans this year, can I move into your grotto?” Enzo asks, his little tail tangled in your hair, gripping on for dear life as you glide through the water.
You scoff at your little friend, bubbles escaping your mouth as you side eye the seahorse that had hitched a ride on you.
“I’m not going to get taken. I’m always careful,” you reply, giving the seahorse a light poke.
From the way he’s glaring at you, you’re sure he’d bite you if he could. With a laugh, you swim on, your tail propelling you gracefully towards the surface of the ocean. You bask under the warm rays of sunlight as you break the surface, Enzo letting out an agitated chirp as he releases your hair from his coiled tail and plops back into the water.
"You know I can't leave the water," he sneers once you've resubmerged yourself, locking his tail back around a tendril of your hair.
"You're no fun, grumpy," you reply easily, rolling your eyes at the seahorse as you continue on towards the coral reef.
You'd been coming to this particular reef for years now each summer because somehow it had remained untouched by humans for the most part. Sure you'd seen one on a rare occasion, but it was loads better than the infested beaches that now lined the coast.
When you finally reach your destination, you glide along the coral reef until Enz finds a suitable clump of seaweed to latch onto before once again swimming upwards, breaking the surface. It doesn't take long for you to find a nice rock to perch on, the sun warm and bright on your skin. You lived for days like these.
Slowly, warily, you allow your eyelids to flutter closed, fully embracing the serenity of waves rolling in and the gentle ocean breeze. You don't know how long you'd been laying there when a loud splash jolts you into high alert. Eyes wide, you look about frantically for signs of danger, but see nothing.
Not willing to risk anything, you dive back into the water heading back in the direction of your friend. Enz hasn't moved from his comfy spot, his tail gripping onto the long green tendrils of seaweed when you return.
"Make a new friend?" he asks lazily when he notices you approaching.
Your head tilts in confusion and you flick your tail as you furrow your brow at your little friend.
"That weird looking merman that just swam by?" Enz continues, his own tiny fins flicking in annoyance, as if his observation should have been obvious.
This grabs your attention though. In all your years visiting this reef, you'd never seen any other merlife. It wasn't common to run into another merfolk these days, so surely you'd have remembered if you had.
In one smooth motion, you grab hold of Lorenzo and propel yourself forward in search of this mysterious merman. Enz lets out a chirp of protest, but you ignore him as you swim around the reef.
It doesn't take long for you to spot the mystery merman and you're about to approach when a nagging feeling in your gut stops you. You can't quite put your tail on why you suddenly feel cautious, but you quickly dive behind a rock, observing from afar.
“What are you doing? He’s right there!” Enzo huffs, squirming out of your grip and attaching himself to another strand of your hair.
“Shh. Let’s just watch for a minute, okay?” you whisper, hushing your friend.
You can tell he wants to argue, but Enz just lets out a stream of bubbles in protest before nestling further into your hair.
Ignoring him, you watch the merman swim through the water, stopping every so often to watch a school of fish swim by. He looked— weird. Instead of one long tail fin like your own, his appeared to be split in two. You squint, trying to get a closer look. Those were definitely fins at the end of his tails. Strange.
You continue to watch as the merman swims along the reef, rising to the surface every so often, but not quite breaking the surface of the water. You’re about to let curiosity get the better of you and approach when the sound of another loud splash catches your attention. Turning quickly, you watch in horror as a human begins to swim towards the strange merman.
You’re about to turn and flee when you realize that the merman isn’t making any attempt to escape the approaching human. You feel the panic set in, knowing that if even one of your species is found, a whole hunt would begin. Without a second thought, you barrel through the water, grabbing hold of the merman as you propel yourself away from the coast.
You can feel him fighting back in your arms as you swim, but you don’t stop until the coastline is well out of sight before bringing the merman up to the surface.
He coughs and splutters for a bit before ripping some strange head piece from his face.
“What the- what the hell. Get me back to shore! What the fuck are you! Where the hell am I? Help! Help!” He shouts, splashing and flailing about in the water, eyes wide and face ghostly pale as he takes in the long, iridescent tail that made up the lower half of your body.
Oh shit. This was no merman.
He attempts to swim away before apparently realizing that he was in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight before swimming back towards you, head barely bobbing above the water.
“Take me back. You have to take me back,” he demands, gripping onto your arm.
You can feel yourself freezing. You didn't know what to do. This was not a merman. You couldn't take him back now that he'd seen you. But you couldn't leave him out here, could you?
You let your head dip below the waves and see Enzo flitting about.
"Drown him!" he chirps, his tail curling and uncurling anxiously.
Before you can reply, you feel yourself being tugged back up above the waves.
"Please. You can't leave me here. I won't tell anyone I saw you. I swear. They'd think I was crazy anyway. Just please don't leave me out here," the boy begs, trying desperately to keep his head above water.
You look at the boy in front of you, his brown eyes pleading as he struggles to stay afloat. You know what you're going to do, even if you could feel your gut clenching. This might be the biggest mistake of your life.
Before you could change your mind, you grab hold of the boy once more, racing back to the coast where you’d found him. Enzo’s cries of protest are lost in the loud rush of water that surrounds you as you propel yourself forward.
When you finally reach the reef, the boy is limp in your arms. His dark curls are plastered across his forehead, and his eyes are closed, but you can still feel his breath. Carefully, you send him off with the current, watching as he washes up on shore.
It doesn’t take long for another human to find him. They must be friends. He bends down over the boy, shouting, shaking him until he sits up suddenly, coughing and sputtering. You watch as his eyes scan the ocean waves before he shakes his head, rising slowly and removing his fins to reveal two very human feet.
You don’t need to see anything more. Turning, you let your head sink back beneath the waves where Enzo is waiting, ready to chirp your ear off.
“I still think you should have drowned him. What if he comes back? Now we’ll have to find a new reef,” he whines.
Mattheo had no idea what he was doing. It had been exactly one week since Theo had found him washed up on shore coughing up sea water. He probably should have died that day. Any sane person would never step foot on the beach again, he thought bitterly to himself as he slid his feet back into his well-worn pair of flippers.
Before he can talk himself out of it, he plunges back into the water, the cool embrace of the water making him feel at home in the ocean. He didn't truly know what he was looking for. In fact he was almost certain that he had hallucinated the whole thing. But for some reason, Mattheo could have sworn that he had been kidnapped by a mermaid before he was returned to shore. It was stupid. And impossible. But some strange tug kept pulling him back to the ocean.
He doesn't know how long he's out there, splashing about and swimming along the reef. How does one even attract a mermaid anyway? He had to be going insane. Maybe he had swallowed too much salt water and it went straight to his brain.
Just as Mattheo was about to throw in the towel of defeat and head back to shore, what felt like a strong current pulled him below the waves. He was completely disoriented at first, struggling. But then he saw the long, iridescent tail. And a pair of flashing eyes before he was once again pulled up to the surface.
"You- you came back. You're still here," Mattheo splutters, eyes wide as he takes in the sight before him.
The mermaid just blinks back at him for a moment before diving back under the water. Mattheo paddles a bit, trying to keep his eyes on the mermaid when he feels a slight tug on his flippers before the mermaid resurfaces.
"Your fins. How do they replace your feet?" the mermaid asks.
Mattheo glances down through the water in surprise.
"My flippers? They just slide over my feet, so I can swim better," he replies, taken aback by the question.
The mermaid tilts their head, seemingly interested in the rubber that currently encased his feet.
"I thought you were a merman. Before. That's why I grabbed you," the mermaid tells him, dipping below the surface once more to give the flippers another poke.
Curious, Mattheo allowed his head to submerge as well, watching in awe as the mermaid examined the extension of his limb. It was fascinating seeing the iridescent scales up close, seeing every twitch and movement of the tail. Without realizing, Mattheo reaches his hand out to touch it, only to jerk back when a tiny seahorse attaches itself to his finger, its little fins flaring angrily.
The mermaid laughs.
"That's Enzo. He says I should have drowned you when I had the chance," the mermaid giggles, voice eerily clear despite being under water.
Mattheo feels his eyes widen, suddenly remembering all the stories he'd heard about mermaids drowning sailors at sea. Quickly, he pulls himself back up to the surface, doing his best to put some distance between him and the mermaid.
"You- you aren't going to do that though right? I haven't told anyone about you. Swear," he splutters, knowing he stood basically no chance should the creature in front of him decide to pull him to a watery grave.
The mermaid just laughs again and Mattheo has no idea if he should be laughing with them or not. They didn't seem particularly threatening. And surely if they hadn't killed him when they had the chance last time, they wouldn't now. Unless that's why they had found him again. To wrap up unfinished business.
"I won't kill you. You seem trustworthy. For a human at least."
Mattheo lets out a nervous laugh, slowly, timidly extending a hand.
"I'm Mattheo," he offers with a small smile, letting himself float a bit closer.
For a moment it looks like the mermaid is going to bolt, but then to Mattheo's surprise, they meet his hand. The handshake lasts mere moments. Firm with a single squeeze, but there's a weight to it. A silent trust.
"I hope he's lulling you into a false sense of security. When you get taken by the humans, I'm turning your grotto into a seahorse mansion," Enzo chirps in agitation as the two of you wait just under the surface for a familiar brunette with soft brown curls.
Your seahorse companion had been telling you for weeks now that it was time to cut ties with this human you'd befriended. For all intensive reasoning, he was right. But you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Every time you looked at Mattheo, ready to tell him it was time for the two of you to part ways, you'd see those soft brown eyes and pretty smile and any resolve you'd had would disappear.
You hadn’t meant for it to go this far. After you’d let him wash up on shore, you’d told yourself you just wanted to make sure he was okay. And then when he came back, you can admit you let your curiosity get the better of you.
But he kept coming back. And so did you.
Enzo was right. It was a dangerous game you were playing.
But you just couldn't help yourself. Being a mermaid was a lonely existence and finally you had found someone who seemed to get it. Of course you loved Enzo, and the schools of fish you often swam with, even the different whales that migrated through. But it just wasn't the same. Mattheo made you feel alive.
You're startled out of your thoughts by the gentle tug on your tail which causes you to jolt, whipping around only to find Mattheo grinning playfully at you. You were losing your vigilance.
"We going or what?” He asks with that slanted grin that had begun to make you melt.
You extend your arm out to the boy.
“I can make you an air bubble, but you’ll still have to hold your breath,” you warn him as you both duck beneath the waves.
You can hear Enzo grumbling as you create a bubble around Mattheo’s mouth that should be just enough to get him to your grotto. You feel his firm grip wrap around your waist before you take off through the water. As you swim, you can’t help but glance over at the boy, how he stares in awe at the ocean around you.
Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the familiar cave entrance that would lead into your hidden sanctuary. Mattheo must be able to sense that you’d arrived as he swims forward himself, hand brushing against the walls until he finds himself surfacing in your underwater cave.
It would be dark if not for the soft glow of algae that floated along the edges of the water. Seagrass and corals lined the ocean floor of the cavern while seashells and trinkets you’d gathered over the years were kept above the surface.
"So this is what a merperson's home is like" Mattheo comments, letting out a low whistle as he hoists himself up onto a rock.
"Mhmm. Where do humans live? Do they still live in caves on land?" you ask, resting your chin on your arms next to the boy.
Mattheo laughs.
"No, not anymore. These days people build big houses. They cut down trees to make walls and use other things like rocks and metal."
"I've never seen these houses. Never gotten close enough I suppose," you sigh wistfully.
"Probably for the best. Technology's come so far. Really, I'm surprised that you lot have stayed hidden this long."
You shrug your shoulders limply.
"The ocean is deep and there aren't many of us. We used to live in pods, but- it's easier to stay discreet alone."
You can feel Mattheo's sad gaze on you as you stare pointedly at the ripples in the water.
"Must be lonely."
"It's not so bad. I have Enzo. And all the other sea creatures."
There's a beat of silence as the two of you sit with your words, the only sounds being the slow drips of water off the cavern ceiling.
"I come here every summer. Have been ever since I can remember. The lake house is out in the middle of nowhere. Bout as remote as you can get these days," Mattheo says finally, hand dipping down to swirl water around his finger tips.
You feel yourself smirk.
"You offering to keep me company Mattheo?"
You can see the heat rise to Mattheo's cheeks, a tinge of red painting his face.
"Only for the summer. If you ever get too lonely."
"What about the other human? The one who rescued you? You wouldn't rather spend your summer with him?" you ask, head tilting.
Mattheo laughs dryly.
"That's Theo. He insisted he come this year actually because this place is so remote. Was worried something would happen to me while I was out here all alone. And I guess he was right."
Mattheo is laughing, but you feel a pang of guilt. It may not have been intentional, but it was your fault Mattheo had almost died that day.
"Hey I've got a question. I don't see any gills on you. So how the hell do you breathe under water. And better yet. How do you talk under water?" Mattheo asks, leaning back and getting comfortable as he gazes at you with curious eyes.
The question jerks you from your thoughts and now it's your turn to laugh.
"That's an odd question. I guess I've never really thought about it."
You don't know how long you and Mattheo sit and talk. It just comes easy with him, like you've been friends all your lives. It's not until you notice the temperature of the water drop that you realize how late it had gotten. Mattheo runs a hand through his hair when you mention the time.
"Oh jeez. I better get back. Theo probably thinks I've drowned for real this time," he jokes, sliding back into the water.
He shivers and you can see goosebumps rising on his arms as the cold water engulfs him. You quickly create another air bubble before extending your arm to the boy, leading the two of you out of the cave.
As soon as you're back out in the open ocean, you feel the change. Like a prickle up your back as you swim. Currents of warm water were flowing deeper than they should be. And the rising levels of salinity in the water closer to the surface were beginning to irritate your tail. A storm was here.
"We have to go quickly. There's a storm and I can already feel the surge raising the tide," you say worriedly, knowing Mattheo can't even respond.
Tightening your grip on him, you begin to speed through the water, weaving through schools of fish that were trying to migrate away from the storm. The current was working against you, and you were beginning to worry you wouldn't be able to reach the shore in time. you could always go up to the surface, but with the winds rocking the surface, the waves above might prove to be more deadly than the ocean below. Hopefully Mattheo couldn't sense the real danger of the situation.
You continue to push forward, tail straining under the pressure. Just as you’re about to make it to the reef Mattheo lets out a yell, the air bubble around his mouth popping from the sound. Frantically, you turn your head to see a very angry looking barracuda with a flipper hanging from its mouth.
Mattheo is struggling now, trying to reach the surface as the barracuda rounds back for another attack. You don’t have time to think. All you know is you have to get Mattheo up to the surface. So without a second thought, you grab onto the boy's waist, hauling him upward.
The waves are rough, and rain pelts down from the sky, disorienting you, but Mattheo is able to gasp for breath.
"It's going to be fine, I can see the shore from here!" Mattheo gasps out, trying to swim over to you, only to get shoved further away by another wave.
You have to laugh mirthlessly to yourself at the comment. Yes you could see shore, but it was a hazy outline in the distance. You dive back under the waves, trying to catch sight of the barracuda, but in all the chaos, you'd lost it. Letting your tail propel you forward, you grab onto Mattheo once more, putting everything you had into getting him closer to land.
You can see the beach getting closer, the water finally beginning to grow more shallow when an excruciating, piercing pain shoots through you, dragging you down. You let go of Mattheo as you're yanked under the waves to see the barracuda with its razor sharp teeth sunk into the fin of your tail. The water around you is already beginning to tint red.
With nothing left to do, you turn back, clawing at the fish's eyes and forcing it to release your tail from it's jaw. Bolting down to the ocean floor you're able to get your hands on a good sized rock as the fish dives at you once more. Your heart is beating out of your chest knowing you only have one real shot at this before bringing the rock down on the barracuda's head.
You watch as the fish goes limp, but don't have time to dwell too much on it. Your tail feels like it's been split in two, but you force yourself back up to the surface, eyes searching frantically for dark brown curls.
"Mattheo! Mattheo!" you shout, voice hoarse as you dart about.
You finally see him, barely able to keep his head above the waves, but closer to shore.
“You’re hurt,” he croaks, inhaling sea water before sputtering it back out as you approach.
“I’m fine,” you reply, tugging him closer to shore once more.
It’s all you can do to drag the boy, sputtering and coughing, onto the beach where he collapses on the sand.
“No, no no no, Mattheo. Mattheo you have to get up. You can’t stay out here, Mattheo,” you urge, shaking the boy’s shoulder.
But he doesn’t respond. Instead, his body falls limply on the beach.
This was all your fault. You never should have taken him so deep into the ocean. At the very least you should have been more careful. If you had been maybe you could have sensed the storm coming before it was a danger to the two of you. Maybe Enzo was right. Befriending humans was just too dangerous. Except it had turned out to be more deadly for Mattheo than it was for you.
You feel a single tear roll down your cheek as you look at the boy lying in the sand. You hadn’t meant for any of it to happen. You lay there for a while, not sure if you could bear to leave him lying here when you begin to hear someone shouting Mattheo’s name. That’s right. He had his friend here and the yelling was getting closer.
You give the boy’s hand a squeeze before turning and disappearing back into the ocean. Once you’re far enough away, you return to the surface, rain still pelting down to see the same boy as last time rush to Mattheo’s side. He gives him a shake, but Mattheo still doesn’t move.
Seeing enough, you sink back into the water finally acknowledging the painful ache of your tail and looking down to see your fin shredded. When you finally return to your grotto, Enzo doesn’t say a word, just chirps softly as he gathers plants and seaweed to heal your tail.
He didn’t need to say anything though. You’d never try to befriend a human again.
The sky is dark and the rain had stopped long ago when Mattheo opens his eyes again. The room is dark except for a faint glow in the corner next to the bed. Mattheo turns his head to see Theo engrossed in a book sitting slumped against the chair.
"What time is it?" he asks groggily, trying, and failing, to sit up.
Theo raises a brow at his friend as he closes his book with a soft snap.
"It's late. And you have a nasty habit of trying to drown yourself. You know I was right to force you to let me come out here with you. Keep trying to get yourself killed."
"What happened this time?" Mattheo asks, ignoring his friend's jab.
His head was still spinning and he hurt everywhere.
"Storm hit. You said you were going out to swim the reef this morning, by dinner time you hadn't come back so I went looking for you. Storm came out of nowhere, one minute the sky was clear and the sun was out, the next it was pouring rain and windy as all hell. Don't know how you made it back to shore in all honesty," Theo replies.
"I-" Mattheo stops, brows furrowing as he tries to remember the earlier events of the day. "I remember being out in the ocean. By the reef. I tried to swim back, but the waves kept pulling me back under. And, there was a barracuda."
Theo lets out a low whistle as he rises from the chair.
"And you didn't get attacked?"
Mattheo's head shakes, straining to remember.
"No, no, I did. But, something fought it off. Can't remember what. It's all kind of fuzzy. But it helped me back to shore I think."
He can tell by the way Theo is looking at him that he thinks he's gone mad, but he just can't scrape up any clear memories of what happened.
"Well," Theo says, giving his leg a pat as he heads towards the door, "Get some sleep. You need it after the day you've had. And you've lost your solo swimming privileges."
Mattheo lets out a soft laugh before wincing in pain.
"Alright, alright, heard loud and clear. Get outta here, don't you know you're supposed to let your patients get good rest?"
Theo scoffs, rolling his eyes again before closing the door, letting Mattheo drift back off to sleep. For some reason, all he could dream of that night, was the same shadow swimming through the water with an eerily familiar iridescent tail.
Last week of the AU festival🤗 This has been so much fun. For those of you who follow me, you know I don't really write aus very often so it was a lot of fun to play around with the characters and different ideas.
This definitely isn't my favorite work I've ever written, and I know this isn't the cute, fluff that I normally write, but I'm so glad I took the opportunity to write outside my comfort zone and experiment a little🤭
Theo was standing in his bathroom, staring at three equally incomprehensible bottles. From his bed, you called out something unintelligible. He pushed back his hair, damp from the shower, now sticking to his forehead in stubborn clumps.
"What?"
You looked up from the issue of Witch Weekly you had nicked from the common room and were now flicking through. You sighed, repeating yourself.
"Dreamless Sleep potion. The one with the blue label."
A brief silence. Then, his voice echoed from the bathroom, dry and irritable -
"They're all blue."
You huffed, swinging your legs off his bed.
"Just - hang on."
You entered the ensuite to see Theo squinting at the bottles under the bathroom light, holding them up close then far away from his face.
"You look like an old man at the apothecary," you teased. Theo didn't look half as amused.
"I am in an apothecary," he grumbled. "What are all these - so many - and why are their fonts all microscopic?"
You plucked the right potion out of his hand. "They're not microscopic. You just need glasses."
He frowned. "I keep telling you, I don't need -"
"Teddy, you're holding them like it's a tea leaf reading."
He put the remaining vials down. "It's - the lighting."
You didn't look impressed.
"Really? You're going to stand there and tell me you can't read under bright, fluorescent lighting?"
Theo took on a sulky look. "I had it narrowed down," he muttered.
"To what? The cabinet?"
He gave you a look.
"You know, it's very rude of you to be coming in here and insulting my perfectly acceptable vision."
You raised your eyebrows. "This coming from the man who washed his hair with muscle relaxant last week?"
Theo huffed. "I keep telling you, my eyes had soap - "
"Muscle relaxant."
"Oh my god."
"How did you not realise in the shower? You reeked of menthol." You padded out of the bathroom with your potion. "We'll get your eyes checked at Hogsmeade first thing tomorrow."
You pulled the covers up as Theo walked out of the bathroom, dressed for bed, with a faintly petulant look on his face.
"Fine," he mumbled, drawing you close as he joined you under the covers, smelling refreshingly clean of his unscented soap. You dimmed the light just enough for your magazine.
"You look hot," you tried encouragingly as Theo glared at you from behind his dark tortoiseshell lenses.
It was barely 10 am and Theo had already had his eyes examined and his glasses chosen. He didn't seem much appeased by your efforts in finding the frame that would best suit his features and colouring. You were starting to realise him rushing you through breakfast that morning had less to do with his eagerness to get his glasses and more to do with him wanting to finish before everyone else started arriving. Now, as the two of you waited for the bill to be drawn up, he scoffed.
"Yeah, right."
"I'm serious. I'll have to beat off all the fifth year Ravenclaws with a stick, trust me."
"Now you're just mocking me."
You grinned. "Only a little."
You meandered at the door while Theo paid. Outside, spring was in full bloom this time of year. The air was fragrant with the perfume of flowers in the chilly, stagnant morning air.
When Theo stepped out to join you, you stuck your hand in his as you walked back. For a moment, it seemed like he was refusing you before he finally relented and curled his fingers around yours. You watched his expression concernedly.
"Do you really hate them that much?" you asked softly. "Are they really that bad?"
He sighed. The slight weight on his nose felt foreign and the newfound sharpness made everything feel more vivid in a nauseating way. But at the same time, walking down the cobblestone path as the first morning rays filtered through the dissipating clouds felt like seeing spring for the first time all over again.
"I'm just not good with change," he settled for instead.
You batted your eyes exaggeratedly at him, earning the first genuine albeit faint smile from Theo in the past 12 hours.
The two of you paused in your tracks as Theo looked at your face. "I don't remember your eyelashes being so...distinct." He cupped your face, dragging his thumb across a faint smudge near the corner of your eye. "And since when have you had this birthmark?"
"Since forever." You stepped back and put your hands on your hips. "Don't tell me you don't even know what I look like."
Theo mock squinted.
"I think I liked you better blurry."
You made a sound of mock indignation.
"I inhale my eggs, come down all this way, go through the headache of picking out your frame for you, and this is how you repay me?"
You sniffed disapprovingly, crossing your arms.
"And to think I used to have a thing for guys with glasses."
Stunned, Theo could only watch as you continued down the path without him at a brisk pace. He thought back to the months you spent badgering him to go and get his eyes checked.
i've been slowly trying to move all of my fics over to ao3, and i stumbled across a drabble i forgot i wrote. perhaps maybe lowkey a banger?? (shameless bragging)
tomarry // gen, m/m, no warnings
Harry Potter wakes up one morning only to find out that he's married to Tom Riddle and has forgotten the last four years of his life.
Theodore Nott x gn!hufflepuff reader; fluff & angst
summary: soulmates. you don’t believe in them for a second. especially once you find out theodore nott of all people is supposed to be yours.
a/n: after an eternity, here it is. hope it was worth the wait. dedicated to @obsessedwithceleste (go read her interpretation here) and all 1k of you who continue to support my work. it means the world ♡
It was almost midnight and you definitely should not have still been in the library. However, there was a History of Magic essay due in a few days and your roommates were, for some reason, not cool with you studying in the dorm at this hour. So here you were.
You had been the only one in the library for the past few hours until one Theodore Nott strolls in like he owns the place and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You’re ready to ignore him, reshuffling your quills and books which causes your parchment to roll off the table with terrible timing. With a groan, you bend over in your seat to pick it up. He apparently had a similar idea and for the briefest of moments, your fingertips touch. Much to your shock and horror, the letters T.N. were now inscribed on your wrist in rather sloppy handwriting.
“Holy shit,” Theodore’s stunned whisper comes out before you properly get a chance to process what just happened. “You’re my soulmate?”
You catch a glimpse of your initials etched into his wrist. Your eyes travel up further to meet his shockingly blue ones and all you can think is you need to get out of there. Now.
In record time, you’ve packed your things and you’re slipping out of the library, leaving behind a stunned Theodore. The castle is empty as you hurry back to the Hufflepuff common room, wishing desperately that this could all just be some horrific nightmare.
As you leave the library in a hurry, Theo sets down his books and without thinking about it, runs after you.
You hear him shouting your name as he books it through the empty corridor. You ignore him. Just before he can reach you, you’re slipping through the common room door, letting it shut in his face. You don’t hear the thud of his forehead hitting the wood with a groan.
It hits you that it definitely wasn’t some horrific nightmare when you immediately notice Theodore leaning against a wall outside the common room the next morning. For a second you contemplate turning right back around and skipping classes for the day. You aren’t quite quick enough deciding, with Theodore’s predatory gaze falling on you where you stand in the doorway. He raises an eyebrow and damn it, you won’t be able to easily get past him. Nonetheless, you make an attempt.
As you try to casually slide past him, he steps in front of you, effectively blocking your path. Prick.
“What do you want, Nott?” Your arms come up to cross over your chest as you meet his eye with a glare. He’s a bit taller than you, so you have to look up. For some reason, it’s incredibly frustrating.
“I want to talk about last night.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you quickly respond, side stepping to get around him. He immediately blocks you again with an incredulous look.
“What do you mean nothing to talk about? We touched fingertips and now your initials are carved into my skin. We’re soulmates.” He seems genuinely a little shocked you’re putting up a fight with him.
“No, we’re not. Get out of my way.”
“Then explain this,” he holds up his wrist where, yes, your initials are written in black ink. He was being dramatic about it being carved. You scoff.
“I don’t care. Now move.” You manage to slip past him this time and continue down the corridor.
His eyebrows raise in surprise that quickly morphs into that signature smugness that nearly makes your eye twitch. “You’re actually going to class?” There’s an almost taunting tone to his voice and maybe your eye does twitch. Maybe.
“Must be surprising since your lot typically skips, but it is something that people do,” you give a nonchalant shrug.
Theo’s smirk drops off his face, “my lot?”
You bite your lip to hold off a smug grin, “yeah, that group of delinquents you skip class to smoke with all the time.”
“It’s not like we need to go to class anyway, we do just fine. It’s more productive to have a break.”
“More productive in what? Giving you lung cancer? Sure thing, Nott.” Without another word, you exit the corridor.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for him to catch up to you. He gets entirely too close for your liking, you can practically feel him behind you. “You know, out of all the people that could possibly have been my soulmate, I never expected a Hufflepuff.”
You don’t acknowledge the soulmates comment, instead asking, “What’s wrong with Hufflepuffs, Nott?”
“Just surprised is all, as they produce some of the dullest people I’ve ever met. You’re rather feisty though,” you can practically hear the smirk in his voice and the heat radiating off his skin—
You come to an abrupt halt, causing Theodore to slam into your back from walking too close. He makes a startled noise as he stumbles before covering it up with a scoff. Before he can regain his footing, you start walking again.
“What was the sudden stop for? Couldn’t handle the Slytherin heat?” He quickly regains his smirk and catches up, this time by your side, walking in time with your footsteps.
“Thought snakes were supposed to be cold-blooded.” You take a sharp corner on your way to the Charms classroom, yet you’re unable to shake him off. “Badgers would be the warm ones.”
Theodore seems to think over your words for a moment before letting out an almost inaudible chuckle, “alright, fine. You got me on that one.”
You walk together in a surprisingly comfortable silence the rest of the way to the classroom. As you make your way across the castle, you sneak a glance or two at the taller boy, trying in vain to figure out what the hell is making him do this. Theodore Nott has always been one of the biggest pains in the ass you’ve ever met, yet in this moment, his company was at the very least tolerable. Which is more than you could say for all the years you’d known him.
You enter the relatively empty classroom and find your usual spot. Theodore, not missing a beat, swoops into the chair beside yours. “I thought you had better things to do than class, Nott?”
“I can make exceptions. The guys will be fine without me for one morning.”
“You sure about that? You seem attached at the hip to—what’re their names? Riddle and Berkshire?”
Theo has a look of genuine surprise on his face that shifts into a subtle smile when you mention his friends’ names. “How did you know that?”
“It’s not like it’s some secret,” you deadpan.
Cold blue eyes study your face for a moment, seemingly scrutinizing every detail they run across, trying to figure you out. You don’t give him much of an opportunity, turning your head to slam your textbook onto the desk. You see Theodore jump at the thud out the corner of your eye.
Before either of you can say more, two of your housemates, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott, are approaching. You can tell by the looks on their faces they’re intrigued to see you sitting with Theodore, and there’s no way they’re going to miss the opportunity to give you a bit of hell over it.
Your last name rings out in the slowly filling classroom and you have to suppress a long suffering sigh.
“Fancy seeing you sitting with a Slytherin,” Justin’s voice hits your ears with a sneer. “Figured you had better sense than to sit with one of those types, aren’t you worried what people might think?”
“Especially Nott. Hanging out with the son of a…Death Eater, not exactly a good look,” Hannah’s eyes flick between you two. “Only person worse would be Riddle.” You don’t miss the way Theodore’s eyes narrow at her jab at his friend.
Seemingly unable to hold himself back from mocking you further, Justin adds, “didn’t realize you were taking charity cases. Though, with how you are I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You look up at them with a borderline bored expression, hoping they’ll give up and leave you alone.
“Oh…nothing,” Hannah gives a faux innocent smile.
Before they can continue to berate either of you, you interject, “I don’t recall asking for input, anyway—” you tug Theo closer by his tie to make a point, “I’m fine where I am, so you can piss off with evil snake talk.”
With a huff, Hannah is grabbing Justin’s arm and pulling him away.
You release the hand on the green tie, barely noticing how Theo quickly attempts to fix it back into his jumper, cheeks slightly flushed. “I can see why you prefer to skip,” you grumble under your breath once they’re gone, eyes returning to your textbook and missing Theodore’s stunned expression beside you.
“Why did you—” he clears his throat in an attempt to regain his aloof demeanor, “why’d you do that?”
“Didn’t like the way they were talking about you,” you shrug, nonchalant like you were speaking about something mundane as the weather. Theo feels his brain malfunction for a moment, just staring at you like he can’t figure you out. Soon more students are filing in, then the lecture is starting, response dying on his tongue.
The moment Flitwick dismisses you, you’re shoving the textbook back in your bag and making your way to the door. Theo starts to complain about your habit of disappearing until his eyes trail up to you waiting at the door for him. He’s stunned for the second time that day.
He scrambles to grab his things and follow you. You walk together through the corridors in silence until you’re pushing open the door to the North Exit Courtyard. Theo’s brain finally catches up with them and he pulls his smirk back onto his face, following too close behind you yet again. He continues a half step behind you the entire way to the Cares of Magical Creatures classroom.
“You’ve got quite a bit of sass for a Hufflepuff.”
“And you’re quite clingy for a Slytherin. Do you have to stand so close?”
“Yes.” He somehow walks even closer, “still no clue why we’re coming over here when the lesson isn’t for another three hours.”
You drop your things onto one of the tables before picking up a small bag of treats. Theo continues to trail behind you like a lost puppy as you make your way to the pens behind the classroom. You stop at the second to last enclosure, where a group of kneazles are lounging in the sun. Carefully opening the gate, a couple of the cat-like beasts quickly pad over, clearly familiar with you. While one hand gently pets the head of one, you offer a treat to the other as Theo watches on in fascination from the other side of the fence.
“Wouldn’t have pegged you for an animal lover.” It draws your attention back over to the Italian boy, unimpressed look on your face, “yeah? Why's that?” He just shrugs, intense eyes staring you down.
“Thought Herbology was more of a Hufflepuff thing, I suppose.”
“Oh Merlin, no. Almost got attacked by a Venomous Tentacula last term, so no green thumb here,” you give a gentle scratch under the chin of the purring kneazle. “Funny enough it was that mate of yours, Berkshire, that yanked me out of the way before I could become plant food or something.”
Theo’s eyes narrow briefly as one of his eyebrows quirks up, “You’ve met Lorenzo? And he saved you from a plant?” He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.
“Well, it was really the only time we’ve spoken. I guess you snakes aren’t all bad,” there’s a teasing grin on your face as your fingers absentmindedly run through soft fur.
“You continue to surprise me, badger.” He’s staring you down again with those, slowly but surely less, intimidating blue eyes. “You didn’t seem friends with those other Hufflepuffs and here you are defending not one, but two Slytherins…why?”
You think it over for a moment before shrugging casually, “loyalty and respect are earned. Just because you ought to bond with certain people doesn’t mean you do. They think I’m quite odd, I’m pretty sure.”
“Then who has earned your loyalty, badger? Other than the school creatures,” he gestures to where the beasts are nuzzling against your robes and nearly purring.
You just shrug cryptically again, frustrating Theo more than he anticipated.
He groans as he leans his forearms on the gate. You were completely unlike any Hufflepuff he’d ever met, but it intrigued him. Maybe he’d spent the last few years being a dick to you, mostly on principle; his group of friends were very aware of how they were perceived and it was often wise to get ahead of the insults by spewing them at others first. But you’d stuck up for him. You had something nice to say about his friend without the expectation to get something out of it. At least as far as he knew you weren’t trying to hook up with any of them, which is why most people decided to play nice with them usually. So why were you letting him follow you around? Was it because of the soulmate connection? You seemed hellbent on denying even the idea of it. He feels like his head is spinning.
Then like a life raft in a maelstrom, he’s pulled out of his thoughts by your soft voice.
“C’mere,” you gesture for Theo to join you in the enclosure, expectant look on your face. He hesitates for a moment before obliging you. The gate creaks as he pushes it open and warily steps inside, eyeing the kneazles like they’re about to take his face off. You have to hold back a laugh at the normally stoic boy obviously scared of what might as well be oversized house cats.
Once he’s close enough you reach out for his hand. It takes a moment of him looking between you and the kneazles before he puts his palm in yours, his touch surprisingly gentle and warm. You carefully tug him closer, positioning his hand in front of the kneazle for it to take a sniff at him.
Whiskers tickle his palm as he curiously looks over to you for an explanation, but all he gets is you watching the interaction intently, like you’re waiting for something. The kneazle apparently deems him suitable for pets as the furry head bumps his hand in a silent request for attention. You nod before standing up and straightening out your robes.
Theo gently starts petting the beast’s fluffy head as he watches you. “I think it likes me.”
“Looks like it.”
“You knew it would,” his tone is teasingly accusatory, like he thinks you’re testing him.
“Oh. I had no idea. Could’ve bitten your fingers right off for all I knew,” you once again shrug nonchalantly, opening the gate to the kneazle pen and softly closing it behind you. Theodore looks at you in alarm, eyes wide as they flick down to the creature nuzzling at his palm like an overgrown kitten. He quickly pulls away from the beast. “You were going to just let it bite me?!”
“You’re much more talkative than you look, anyone ever told you that?”
“You’re dodging my question…again.”
“And you’re dodging mine!” There’s a new air of playfulness in your voice, gone is the irritation you had directed at him most of the day and the entire time you’ve known each other.
He rolls his eyes, almost affectionately as he follows your lead out of the enclosure and back toward the classroom. He shouldn’t have been so surprised when he rams straight into you for a second time today. This time there’s a lack of teasing on your face, instead replaced by surprise that mirrors his own.
“Oh! Almost forgot,” you redirect to one of the first enclosures in the lineup, where there’s a pile of gold and gems and various other shiny objects spilling out of a den. A little blue niffler, smaller than the other ones lounging on and around the pile, scampers up to the fence when you approach.
“Hello Trinket,” you dig in the pocket of your robes for a moment before producing a shiny galleon. Your voice is softer than Theo had ever heard from you as you speak to the little creature, your tone taking on what he can only describe as a parental adoration. You carefully hold out the coin for greedy little niffler hands to quickly snatch up and shove into the pocket on its tummy. It gives you a pleased noise and lets you gently scratch the top of its head.
“Don’t tell the others, but this one’s my favorite.”
Theo has a stupid, lovestruck grin on his face when he responds, “wouldn’t dream of it, vita mia.”
As you both walk back towards the castle, something compels Theodore to ask, “so…what do you like so much about Nifflers? And why the little runt in particular?” And by the way your entire being seems to perk up and you animatedly launch into a ramble about what’s obviously a passion for you, Theo’s heart thuds hard in his chest. Deep down he knows he’s already a goner for you.
You don’t share the next class, but he always seems to find his way back to you. Waiting by the door the moment you’re dismissed, and bewildered, you think he must have either left early from his class or booked it through the corridors (or both) to be there in time. But the little smile on his face is unwavering.
On the way to the Great Hall, he offers a seat with his friends over at the Slytherin table and for a moment you’re so shocked (and secretly touched) that he wants you to properly meet his friends, you’re tempted to say yes. It’d probably beat sitting mostly alone at your house table as usual, but one glance over to the group already looking at you from across the dining hall and you’re making a stupid joke about not wanting to venture into the snake pit and speed walking in the other direction. Not intimidated at all.
Theo seems once again undeterred by you making an escape, appearing by your side the moment the meal time is over. He follows you, too close as you’ve come to expect, all the way to the library; his snide comments all but gone from your interactions. The space is instead filled by what sounds like genuine questions about yourself and stupid stories of situations only a group of teenage boys could get themselves into. You find yourself smiling more than you ever have with him, even more than much of your time with your housemates.
The more he feels comfortable, the more you get to see a boy that loves summers by the sea and evenings cooking in the kitchen and who’s favorite instrument is the piano.
You two settle into this routine of him tagging along, right by your side for the next few days. Talking with him is easy and he seems content to just listen to you endlessly ramble about anything. He always has questions relevant to what you’re talking about, sometimes even bringing up things you had mentioned in passing, days prior.
He had even managed to drag you up to the Astronomy Tower late one night to properly meet his friends. Conversation with them even came easier than amongst your fellow Hufflepuffs. You could joke with them and they would have a witty, often snarky response in return.
Slowly you were finding yourself enjoying having a bit of company most hours of the day. Finding yourself leaving your common room in the mornings to fall in step with Theo, who was always there and waiting for you.
Eventually he had ended up sneaking you into his dorm one evening to study while his dorm mates were out doing Merlin knows what. After a couple of hours brainstorming over a Potions project, Theo’s eyes flicked up to meet yours.
“Are you still…vehemently against the whole…soulmate thing? It’s alright if you are and I don’t want to push, it’s just,” he sighs softly as he turns his quill over in his fingers, “it’s been on my mind a bit.”
The sudden topic change has you blinking in surprise, brain blanking as you struggle to even process your own thoughts.
“I just…don’t—I don’t know,” you stumble over your words a bit as you look away from him. You bite your lip for a moment, internally debating whether or not to lay bare this part of you, to let him past the carefully crafted walls that had been there so long you weren’t even sure what was left to guard anymore. But soft ocean eyes that always seem to linger too long, holding depths you could have never anticipated look back at you. And you feel safe.
So you continue, “my, uh parents were soulmates. In name only I suppose. As far as I know, they never loved each other, I don’t think they even liked each other.” You fiddle with the sleeves of your robes. “I didn’t want to let myself fall for you if you were just doing it because you thought we were destined to be together. I wanted you to like me, just…as me.”
“I never wanted a soulmate but here you are, ruining everything. With your stupid charming accent and the way you remember things about me and how you look at me with that stupid lovey look on your face—”
You’re cut off by gentle lips on yours. Expensive cologne and smoke fill your lungs in an intoxicating burn. It steals your breath, leaving only him.
“I understand the feeling, the doubt about leaving it up to the universe to decide on something so…important.” Theo’s voice is quiet, gentle, when he pulls back from your lips. “My parents weren’t soulmates. It’s archaic, but purebloods have certain expectations and practices, one of them being arranged marriages. That’s what mine were. Mia mamma, she ended up falling in love with my father but him, not so much. Wanted me for an heir.”
He looks over your face and for once it’s not a look of scrutiny, but something tender. Like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
“She never got to be with her soulmate so she wanted me to get the chance to be with mine. But it’s hard, you know? I don’t know what I’m doing with the whole destined relationship thing, but I want to. I wish you could have met her. She had an eye for good character, I think.”
“Theo…” You’re almost at a loss for words, but you push through. “I—with the kneazles…I didn’t actually think they were going to hurt you. It might sound stupid but they’re particularly good at sensing trustworthiness and I…”
“And you wanted their second opinion?” he cracks a smile.
“Perhaps.”
“Well, I’m glad they found me trustworthy.”
His thumb grazes over his initials on your wrist as you hesitantly speak. “Me too. I know it might not be instantaneous, but…I’m willing to—no—I want to give this soulmate thing a shot. I’m just…scared.”
The light graze against the soul mark shifts to gentle, reassuring circles on your skin. “Maybe soulmates are just the pieces of the stars finding each other over and over again after they separate. What makes us up, just returning home. I want to get to know you, over and over again, no matter how much you push me away. No matter how long it’s been since the pieces of us have reunited.”
The pull to be close to him is nearly overwhelming, but this time, you don’t fight it. Instead you throw yourself forward, into his arms, into his trust, into the rest of your lives. And he catches you, holding you tight with the promise of never letting go.
summary: it's always a good time when you're drinking with mattheo; you never know what or who you're gonna get ; mattheo x theo, enzo x reader, poly!slytherin boys if you squint
warnings: mentions of drinking, parties, the likes
an: reader is mostly a side character but is involved with most of the story; you get a lot of theo and matty for this; thank you to my love my life my baby @musingsofahufflepuff for the drink dividers (hubby so talented)
There was a buzz all around the great hall, and for good reason, too. This mornings matchup on the quidditch pitch between Slytherin and Gryffindor was a big one…and Slytherin came out on top.
Much of this win was thanks to Mattheo and his friends (who all very much dominate in every game they participate in). With Theo as chaser, the game was barely going for two minutes before he scored their first goal.
Berkshire as keeper made it nearly impossible for anyone on the Gryffindor team to catch up. But the real kicker was how Mattheo performed today.
As a beater, typically his job is just to keep the bludgers away from his chasers (Theo in particular). But Mattheo had a bit of a different objective today.
While he did his usual duty, using all his ab and lower body strength to steady himself on his broom he was swinging his bat with all his strength; any chance he got he aimed the large, charmed iron balls towards another target.
It was perfect timing, too. Potter was hot on the snitches tail (and Draco hot on Potters). Mattheo eyed the bludger heading toward Theo and accelerated in that direction. With near perfect precision, Mattheo swung with professional connection, sending the bludger zipping towards the raven haired boy.
The bludger connected with the tail end of Potter's broom. The sheer force sending Harry down toward the ground and giving Draco ample time to grab the snitch and assist in securing the win and ending the game officially.
Which leads to now. Mattheo, Theo and the rest of the team itching to get to the common room and start partying in celebration. Enzo was all but shoveling food into his gob to ‘line his stomach so he could drink more’.
“That’s kinda disgusting, Berk. Very sloppy. You look like a elefante.”
“Elephant,” Mattheo translated the Italian for Enzo; something he’s grown habit to do for Theo but he couldn’t tell you when it started or when he picked up on so much of the language.
As expected, Enzo ignored them both. Once dinner was officially over, the majority of fifth, sixth and seventh year students (with the exception of most Gryffindors) made their way down to the dungeons for what was sure to be “an incredibly epic party” to quote Enzo.
To “ensure it’s epicness” (Enzo again), he insisted on the three of them waiting back before going down to the party. However, it was only five minutes in before Mattheo was getting antsy, “Screw this, I need a drink.”
The cup’s cold in his hand and the alcohol is smooth down his throat and instantly Mattheo feels ten times more relaxed than he did at dinner. It typically happens that way.
He always gets a bit jittery before a party, but as soon as he gets there he knows he just needs a drink and everything will calm down in his mind again. Matty has contributed this correlation to the fact that most parties happen after a quidditch match. And even if he’s not the one playing, just the intensity of the game gets his adrenaline going.
After another sip, Matty lets out a long sigh of relief. “Relaxed?” Theo gives him a knowing smile and a nudge with his elbow. Mattheo nods in content, “Yup. Finally.”
“Ever think maybe you have a problem if you need a drink to relax, mate,” Enzo playfully jabs at his friend. Mattheo then watched as Enzo swirled his tongue along the inside of the small plastic container to loosen his third jello-shot in twenty minutes.
Mattheo flicked the bottom of the shot, causing the contents to slip through Enzo’s finger and land instead on the common room rug. “No, my shot!” Enzo whined, Mattheo and Theo rolled their eyes.
The pair left Enzo searching for a replacement while they found solace on a sofa. Theo leaned back against the couch, digging in his pocket to for his usual party favor, “Enzo ruin your relaxation?” Mattheo shook his head, taking another long sip of his drink, “I’m good. Think I’m gonna go grab another though. Be right back.”
When Mattheo didn’t return after ten minutes, Theo stubbed out his spliff and willed himself off the couch to go and find him. Before his eyes could locate a dark mop of curls he heard it. The slightly high pitched, almost hidden giggle made Theo’s ears perk up.
Turning towards the sound, he made his way towards the drink table where he saw Mattheo standing with you and Enzo. His bottom lip was tucked into his teeth as he held his cup in front of his mouth; obviously trying to suppress another giggle.
You, on the other hand, were eating it up. Theo was sure whatever story you were telling wasn’t even that funny; but Mattheo had a second drink in him so therefore everything was more humorous.
As Theo approached the three of you, you turned to him with a beaming smile, “Hi, Teddy. Did you know I’m hilarious?”
Theo raised his eyebrows and gave you an unimpressed look, “Sure, tesoro.” You gave a slight pout, only for Enzo to sling an arm over your shoulders, “S’alright, lovie. You’re proper funny.” Your smile returned and Theo turned to Matty instead.
“Gonna tell me what’s so funny?” Theo couldn’t suppress his own smile any longer. Not when Mattheo was grinning so big that the corners of his eyes were crinkling. Theo decided that Matty had a really nice smile.
“Enzo brought up the prank we played on Draco a couple months ago, when we..” Matty’s shoulders shook slightly as he couldn’t contain his laughter, “when we charmed his hair Gryffindor red and convinced everyone not to say anything until lunch.”
Theo nodded, not being able to hold his own laughter in as he recalled the memory, “He was ready to avada you, Matt.”
Mattheo was wiping tears from his eyes, chugging what was left in his cup before turning around to fill it once more.
Theo had made a mistake. If you asked him, though, he’d say he was ‘lured away by a hufflepuff making him an offer he couldn’t refuse’.
Normally free weed from a badger trying to get on his good side wasn’t a problem. It’s what he came back to that make him realize his timing was rather poor.
Just as he breached the small crowd of people forming near the back corner of the common room, he saw Mattheo take a long chug of merlin knows what before handing you his cup to hold.
Theo watched as Mattheo got into a slightly crouched position, hands at the ready in front of him like he was about to wrestle. Across from Matty was a Ravenclaw that had a tendency to run his mouth.
Theo grabbed Mattheo’s cup from your grasp, catching your attention. “You’re just in time,” your eyes were looking a little hazy, but they sparkled with a bit of mischief.
“Perfetto, what’s happening then, hmm?” Theo took a sniff of Mattheo’s cup, giving a shrug and a head tilt before downing its contents.
“Abraxas said Matty’s lost his touch. That now-a-day’s he’s more bark than bite. Matty didn’t like that, said he’d be able to wrestle Brax to the ground in two minutes flat,” you were clearly enjoying the situation.
Theo started counting how many drinks he’d seen Mattheo have so far. Four. He nodded his head, confirming that Matty’s current behavior now made total sense.Theo decided to not intervene. Yet.
It had been a while since Matty had gotten into a proper fight. Not necessarily due to him not getting angry; but the rest of the group had figured out ways to distract or deter him from seeing red. Theo figured he’d let him have a little fun.
Mattheo did manage to wrestle Brax to the ground pretty quickly; however, drunk Mattheo tends to be extremely poor at realizing how drunk he is. Hence why Brax was then able to flip them both over, seemingly taking charge.
Drunk Matty was having none of it, pushing and flinging limbs until he was nearly free from Brax’s hold. Very easily did Mattheo ignore the ‘bloody fuck’ that left Enzo’s lips when he got kicked in the shin. You did warn him not to get too close.
After a bit of a stalemate, the crowd started to chant for their respective prospect. “Mattheo, Mattheo!” and “Brax Brax Brax!” started to get louder, and truly it was ruining Theo’s buzz.
So if he happened to send a slipping jinx Brax’s way, just so Mattheo could get him in a chokehold and Brax to tap out; if no one witnessed it then no harm was done. Right?
Mattheo stood, pumping his arms in the air victorious. Enzo let his earlier injury be forgotten as he slapped Matty on the back, “Atta boy, now let’s get you a celebratory drink, shall we?”
You did your best to hold your drink steady in one hand while patting Mattheo’s back with the other. “Really, Mattheo, it’s okay. I’m sure he’s not mad at all…right, Enzie?” You gave Enzo the sterndess look you could muster in your tipsy state without giggling.
Mattheo sipped his drink after lifting his head from your shoulder, wiping fallen tears from his cheeks as he looked over to Enzo on the other side of the couch.
Enzo stuttered over his words, “Y-yeah, mate. S’alright, I, erm, I don’t even remember you kicking me hard as shit twenty minutes ago. S’fine!” Enzo scratched the back of his neck, giving an awkward smile.
Thankfully, Matty bought it, “R-really? ‘Cause,” he sniffled, bottom lip wobbling, “I-I’m so sorry, Enzo. Y-you mean so much to me, I-I’d never hurt you on p-purpose.”
You could see the tears brimming again as you moved your hands in soothing circles on his back, “And you mean so much to Enz, too. Isn’t that right?” You glared at Enzo for a response.
“Oh, erm, yeah..yeah mate, you mean loads to me,” Enzo gave a quick tap to Matty’s knee.
Theo walked up to this scene, four shots held between his fingers, “Here.” He handed the small glass of clear liquor to each of you. You rolled your eyes, “Theo. Not really the time,” you motioned your eyes and tilted your head slightly towards Mattheo, “someone is having a moment.”
It was Theo’s turn to roll his eyes, “Yes, yes. I know. Here Matty, take it.” Ever the obedient one when it came to Theo, he took the shot glass.
“Drink,” Theo nodded, “I cannot take your wet eyes any longer, Matty mio caro.”
You huffed, but raised your glass nonetheless to clink against the others before tapping it on the table and shooting it back, everyone else following the same routine. As the alcohol made its way down your throat you shuddered.
Matty, though, gave a final wipe of his eyes before a smile then plastered on his face, “Mmm, tequila. How did you know, Teddy?”
You and Enzo exchanged a look, waiting for Theo to complain about the use of the pet name, only to be disappointed when he actually smiled.
“Because I know my Mattheo. Now let’s get off this couch,” Theo grabbed hold of Matty by both wrists and pulled him to stand before slinging an arm over his shoulder. Enzo was quick to follow, “Wait for me!”
With the tequila now in his system, Mattheo seemingly forgot whatever it was that he was upset with some fifteen minutes earlier. You watched as he and Enzo seemed to be conspiring together across the room.
You leaned closer to Theo, “What do you think they’re up to?” Theo’s eyes met yours briefly, “I do not know, but it seems supiscious.” Your brows furrowed momentarily, “Do you mean suspicious?”
Theo waved off your correction, turning back to the last spot he saw the two trouble makers only to not find them at all. His head was on a swivel, eyes scanning the room for a mop of curls or messy brown hair but continuously coming up short.
“Do you see?” Theo asked a half sentence, but it didn’t matter as you fully understood. “I can’t find them either.”
In that moment, you heard a row of people grunt, gasp or seem startled and shocked. Then you saw it; a very excited but stumbly German Shepherd being chased by a continuously tripping and falling Aussie.
“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you turned to Theo eyes wide and slightly panicking. Theo seemed to only be able to stare in the direction they went before shaking his head and wiping his hands over his face.
“Okay, you go for Enzo, I go for Matty.” And with that, the two of you split off.
Mattheo proved slightly ornery while drunkenly in his animagus form. But Theo thanks the many drinks Matty had for making it much easier to sneak up on the German Shepherd and wrap his long arms around its middle.
He walked a whining puppy Mattheo towards the dorm room path, setting him down only once past the dorm door just as you entered with Aussie Enzo who’s back paws were definitely dragging along the floor, causing you to stumble slightly with every other step.
Once both were released, you looked positively peeved, hands firm on your hips and mouth open, ready to scold only to be cut off by a slew of Italian shouting.
“Cosa pensi di fare? Hai perso la testa? Torna indietro subito. Subito! Sei fortunato che siano tutti ubriachi fradici!”
Both Enzo and Matty’s puppy ears folded back; the two of them slowly starting to lay down submissively and whine slightly. You weren’t sure what Theo was saying exactly, but you knew they were not going to try this again the rest of the night.
After their Italian reprimand, both Enzo and Mattheo found themselves one last drink. Mattheo would be lying if said he wasn’t feeling it; the range of emotions and amount of liquor was starting to weigh on him.
He looked from Theo to you to Enzo, then to Theo again and his heart just felt so…full. All he could think about was needing to show his affections.
Mattheo turned to Enzo, tugging the sleeve of his shirt, “Enz…Enzo look at me.” Heavy lidded eyes met Matty’s with a lazy smile, “Hmm?”
“I love you, mate,” Matty grabbed Enzo’s face and gave him a loud, smacking smooch on the cheek.
Mattheo ignored the confused speechlessness on Enzo’s face and instead turned to you. “And I love you, babe,” He leaned down, lips pressing heavily against your forehead. You hummed in acknowledgement, “I love you too, Matty.”
When Mattheo turned to Theo, the latter willed his cheeks not to flush to dark a shade of pink. He braced himself for the Matty love fest about to happen, only to feel his pulse quicken when Mattheo laced his fingers behind Theo’s neck, thumbs tracing lazily along his jawline.
“And you..” Mattheo leaned in a little closer to whisper in Theo’s ear, “You’re my favorite, Teddy. But promise not to tell the other’s okay?”
Theo nodded with a nervous smile just before Mattheo’s lips landed on his own. His breath hitched before pulling away, “Alriiight, bedtime for Matty, yes?”
Mattheo nodded, allowing Theo to guide him towards the dorms. Theo heavily ignoring the taunts and cheers from you and Enzo on the way.
Summary: There was never a need for grand declarations, he said everything with the way he looked at her, touched her, held her like the world spun only when she breathed.
There were certain constants at Hogwarts.
The Black Lake shimmered like obsidian under the moonlight. The Great Hall always smelled faintly of parchment and pumpkin. And Mattheo Riddle always had one arm slung over the back of her chair.
Y/n had stopped questioning it months ago.
It was just… him. The way his presence fit around her like a favorite jumper—worn-in, comfortable, quietly claiming. His fingers would occasionally brush the ends of her hair, twirl a loose strand while he read over her shoulder or whispered dry sarcasm into her ear during Potions.
It didn’t matter that he rarely spoke about how he felt. He didn’t need to.
He said it in a million small ways.
Like how, at the Slytherin party that night, his eyes found her the second she stepped through the door. He was already sprawled across the dark green velvet couch like it belonged to him—legs stretched out, drink in hand, low laugh curling like smoke from his lips.
And then he saw her.
His drink hit the table. His expression didn’t change, not really—but the atmosphere did. People stepped aside. He held her gaze until she made her way over, unbothered by the stares.
She wasn’t two feet from him before his hand found her waist and pulled.
“Missed you,” he murmured against her temple, low enough for no one else to hear, as he guided her down onto his lap like it was second nature.
It was second nature now.
His arm curled around her middle, fingers splayed possessively across her stomach, and his lips ghosted a trail down her shoulder. She felt it in her bones—the way he softened around her, how his whole body leaned in like it had craved her all day.
“You saw me three hours ago,” she whispered, smiling despite herself as she rested her head on his chest.
“Too long,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.
And somehow—it did.
Later, when the common room was littered with passed-out students and flickering candles, Mattheo still hadn’t let go.
They sat tucked into the corner of the couch, a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky on the table beside them. His thumb was tracing slow circles on her thigh. Her legs were draped over his lap, his cloak thrown over her shoulders.
“I like parties better like this,” she murmured. “Quiet. Just us.”
His hand paused.
Then he turned his face toward her, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his jaw, the softness in his eyes that only she ever saw.
“You make everything better,” he said, like it hurt. Like it terrified him how true it was.
Y/n blinked. Her heart stuttered.
“Mattheo…”
He cut her off with a kiss—gentle, slow, reverent. His fingers tangled in her hair, and she leaned into him like gravity wasn’t a choice anymore.
When they parted, his forehead rested against hers.
“I don’t say it much,” he whispered, “but I need you to know. I’m yours.”
She exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for weeks.
“I know,” she said softly. “I’ve always known.”
But peace at Hogwarts never lasted.
Rumors had a way of crawling out of shadows. And the name Riddle always carried a legacy.
The next morning, Y/n found a torn scrap of paper on her bed.
Does he tell you what he does at night?
Do you know what he’s capable of?
Her stomach turned.
Mattheo never hid his darker tendencies. There were things he didn’t talk about. Things whispered in corners—his father’s name, the power he inherited, the choices he’d made before her. But he wasn’t him. Not anymore.
Still, that seed of doubt twisted inside her.
By the time she reached the courtyard, the sky bruised with storm clouds, she found him sitting on the stone bench, cigarette between his fingers, jaw tight.
“You got one too, didn’t you?” he asked without looking up.
Y/n’s breath caught.
“Yes.”
Mattheo nodded slowly. “They want you to be afraid of me.”
Her heart cracked. “I’m not.”
His eyes finally met hers.
Haunted. Fragile, beneath the mask.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “I haven’t exactly earned the benefit of the doubt.”
Y/n crossed the space between them and knelt in front of him.
“You don’t have to earn something that’s already yours.”
He stared at her.
She took his hand and placed it over her heart. “You’re in here, Mattheo. All of you. The soft, the dark, the scared, the furious. You don’t have to deserve love to have it.”
His hand trembled. Just slightly.
Then he broke.
The cigarette dropped from his fingers as he pulled her into his lap, arms locking around her like a lifeline. His face buried in her shoulder.
And for the first time in a long time, Mattheo Riddle let himself be held.
That night, no one questioned why Mattheo had Y/n tucked so tightly against his chest in the common room. Why his hand never left her back. Why he kissed her temple every time someone looked at her too long.
He didn’t need to say anything.
She was his, and he was hers.
Even in the silence, they spoke a language only they understood.
i don't think people understand how hard it is not to ship tomarry / harrymort because what do you mean they're borderline canonically soulmates. what do you mean they're PROPHESIED to each other. what do you mean they're literal parallels, had the same childhood circumstances but turned out the exact opposite. what do you mean harry's the embodiment of the light side and tom's the embodiment of the dark even though they're so, so similar. what do you mean they both have common names even though they themselves are anything but common. what do you mean they have uncountable amount of bible references that apply strictly to them, what do you mean harry makes sure to mention tom's the handsomest in the room whenever he sees him and apparently likes their connection. what do you mean their wands share the core of the same phoenix and therefore literally can't kill each other even if they wanted to. what do you mean harry wanted to give him another chance despite everything he's done, what do you mean tom offered him his hand, what do you mean harry killed tom at the same age except the order of the numbers is reversed. what do you mean harry's eyes are the same colour as tom's favourite unforgivable (avada) AND the colour of his house, what do you mean TOM'S eyes are the colour of harry's favourite defence spell (expelliarmus) and the colour of his house. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE EACH OTHER'S OTHER HALF. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HARRY IS LITERALLY TOM'S SOUL??? 😭
NOT TO MENTION THESE THINGS AREN'T EVEN FANON LIKE...? lmk if i missed something though.
Mattheo had always thought that the worst part of moving had to be all the fucking boxes. You had to load up all your shit into dozens of flimsy cardboard boxes, break your back moving it all, and then deal with the mess of reversing your previous hard work and unboxing all of it. But standing here outside his new apartment, boxes piled up lining the hall as he repeatedly tries jamming his key into the lock, he’s beginning to realize that it can in fact, get worse.
“Are you— are you trying to break into my apartment?” A voice asks, causing Mattheo to jolt back, his key clattering to the floor.
“Fuck. No. I’m trying to get into my apartment, but this bloody key doesn’t fit the lock,” he replies, bending down to snatch the key off the ground, not bothering to glance at the stranger who’d snuck up on him.
“That’s probably because you’re at the wrong door. Empty apartment is one door over,” the voice says, clearly trying to hold back a laugh.
Mattheo freezes, blinking once before slowly turning his head to glare at the apartment one door down the hall, and then finally turning fully to face the stranger. His plea to not call the cops on him is quickly replaced by a sharp in take of breath as he gets a good look at his new neighbor.
Tall with soft brown hair, sharp eyes, and a devious smirk grinning down at him; Mattheo feels his chest tighten, bobbing his head in a quick nod before shuffling over to the correct door, a cold sweat washing over him. Why did it have to be him? He wonders to himself as his key finally turns allowing the door to swing open.
"Name's Theo by the way. If you ever need anything," his neighbor calls out before disappearing into his own apartment.
As soon as Mattheo steps into his new home he wants to melt into the floor. Great first impression he thinks bitterly to himself. New neighbor is hot as hell and the first thing he does is try to break into his apartment. Unknowingly to be fair, but still.
Not allowing himself to dwell too much on it, Mattheo begins lugging boxes inside, letting a pile grow in the middle of the would-be living room. It was going to be a long fucking day.
The first thing Mattheo notices the next morning, other than the pain in his lower back from sleeping on a mattress on the floor, is the distinct lack of anything edible in his new home.
He hadn’t wanted to deal with the hassle of moving food and all the nasty smells of spoiled, rotten food that could come with it. But by the way his stomach was now rumbling, he was beginning to see why that had been rather short sighted.
With an agitated groan, he rubs the sleep from his eyes, barely making the effort to brush his teeth and throw on a new hoodie before venturing out to find some food. As soon as Mattheo exits the apartment complex, he’s blinded by the early morning sunlight. Grumbling, he makes his way over to his car, an old beater sure, but one of the first he’d ever worked on.
The door closes with a gentle thud, and Mattheo turns the keys, the engine slowly spurring to life before sputtering out just as quickly.
“Oh for the love of-“ Mattheo throws his head back, groaning as he swings the door back open.
Stupid spark plug had probably come loose again. He really needed to find time to fix that, it was starting to get annoying. Opening the hood of his car it’s clear his suspicion had been correct and he’s about to adjust the damn thing once more when a voice calls out behind him. Startled, Mattheo jumps, the back of his head slamming on the hood of the car as he lets out a string of curses.
“Need a ride?”
Mattheo turns and of course as luck would have it, finds Theo standing behind him, once again attempting to hold back a laugh, his own set of car keys dangling between his fingers. Why did the world hate him?
“Ah, no! Nope! Everything’s fine over here, thanks,” Mattheo replies, tripping over his words as if he’d never strung a sentence together before.
Theo just raises an eyebrow at him, looking between him and his rather beat up car unconvinced.
“It’s really not a problem,” Theo says, tipping his head towards the car parked directly next to Mattheo’s.
“I—“ Mattheo pauses, looking down at the loose spark plug.
It would take him seconds to fix. But what the hell? If his smoking hot neighbor wanted to give him a lift, who was he to decline?
“You know what? That would actually be great,” he hears himself declare, closing the hood of his car with a dull thud.
Theo looks rather pleased with his answer, unlocking his car and gesturing for Mattheo to hop in.
"I never actually got your name," Theo trails off as Mattheo gingerly steps into the cars.
"Mattheo. Matt. Whatever you want," he rushes out, mentally face palming as Theo lets out a soft laugh.
"So where were you headed?" Theo asks as the car hums to life.
"Just to pick up some food and stuff," Mattheo mumbles back as he takes in the tidy interior of the car.
Clean leather seats and not a single piece of trash littering the floor. It was nothing like his own beater, but that car had been the only constant in his life these past few years.
"Convenient. I was headed to the store myself," Theo replies easily as he backs out of his parking spot.
Mattheo can feel his heart stop when Theo's hand lands inches away from him, resting on his seat as Theo turns to check out the back window. He can't tell if his mouth has gone completely dry or if he's salivating uncontrollably as his eyes lock in on Theo's forearm and the veins protruding from it. God he needed to snap out of it. Get a grip.
Mattheo spends the rest of the ride trying to survive awkward small talk and looking out the window at the new city he found himself in. When they finally pull into the parking lot, he finds himself following Theo inside like a lost puppy. There's an awkward pause where Mattheo isn't quite sure if he's supposed to go off on his own or not, but Theo answers that question when he gives him a strange look.
"Never been to a grocery store or something? Come on," he says, grabbing a basket.
Mattheo feels like he’s shopping with his mother, carefully putting items into the basket and hoping he doesn’t get any strange looks or raised eyebrows. Theo on the other hand goes about as if it’s business as usual, tossing this and that carelessly into the shopping basket.
It all feels terribly domestic, especially for two people who’d barely ever spoken before, but somehow, with each aisle they meander through it grows increasingly more comfortable.
When they finally make it to check out, Mattheo has to fend Theo off, insisting that he’ll pay.
“Can’t hijack your grocery run and let you pay,” he grumbles, shoving his card into the reader.
The following weekend Mattheo finds himself pulling yet another batch of cookies out of his oven. The sugary sweet aroma filled his apartment and flour coated every surface of the kitchen. He’d always liked baking growing up and seemed to have a bit of a knack for it. That was a lie. He did not like baking and he was actually terrible at it. But Theo didn’t have to know that.
Unfortunately, Mattheo’s first batch of cookies had come out hard as rock on the outside, but still raw on the inside. He had no idea how that was even possible. The second batch had almost caused the fire alarms to go off after he’d gotten distracted and forgotten them in the oven. But this batch. Well, they looked normal, tasted normal, and Mattheo hadn’t immediately gotten sick after trying one so they’d have to do.
Over the course of the last week, Mattheo couldn’t keep track of how many times he’d accidentally run into Theo. He swore he’d never seen any of his other neighbors this frequently. It seemed like every time he turned around, Theo was there with his smug grin and some little quip that made Mattheo putty in his hands. It was driving Mattheo insane.
Not to brag, but Mattheo had always considered himself to be a smooth talker if he did say so himself. Charming, charismatic, the works. So to be left a blubbering fool every time Theo so much as breathed in his direction. Well that simply wouldn’t do.
Carefully picking out the best looking cookies from the pan and dumping them into a plastic container, Mattheo is ready for battle. He straightens his shirt and smoothes out his hair one last time before swinging his front door open and marching the twenty feet over to the neighboring unit.
Taking a deep breath of determination, Mattheo steels himself before giving a solid, firm knock on the door. A moment passes. Then two. Maybe this was a bad idea. Another moment goes bye. Mattheo is about to turn tail and flee back to his apartment when the door swings open, revealing Theo leaning casually against the door frame.
Nothing could have prepared him for what was waiting on the other side of the door. Nothing. All the confidence he’d built back up. Gone.
Theo’s eyes burned into him leaving scorching trails, his god forsaken smirk dancing across his lips as he stands in front of Mattheo in nothing but a grey bath towel that clings dangerously low on his hips. He doesn’t even flinch at the way Mattheo’s eyes rake his body up and down before forcing their way to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere else.
“Can I help you?” Theo’s voice comes out smooth, but Mattheo can still detect a hint of a snicker as his neighbor continues leaning on the door frame as if it were just another Tuesday.
“Uh, yeah, I mean no,” Mattheo hears himself stuttering like a bumbling idiot, and forces himself to stare at the ground, trying to compose himself. “I made cookies. Thought I’d bring some over as a thanks for the ride.”
He can feel the bob of his adam’s apple as he shifts awkwardly, thrusting the container out and trying not to ogle his neighbor’s very bare chest.
“I’d let you ride any time,” Theo replies, that sinister smirk securely in place as he accepts the container of cookies.
His fingers brush against Mattheo’s for a moment too long as Mattheo feels his brain short circuit. So much for being cool, confident, and collected.
“whAT,” Mattheo wheezes, sure he must have misheard.
But Theo just tilts his head cockily, eyes raking over the curly haired boy in front of him.
“You can ride any time. I know car stuff can be— inconvenient,” Theo replies smoothly, clearly enjoying Mattheo’s flustered state.
“Right! Yes. Thanks again. I’ll just— be going now,” Mattheo responds, tripping over his words once more before retreating back to his own apartment, Theo’s eyes burning into the back of his head.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Mattheo feels himself sink to the floor; face red, palms sweaty, and heart beating out of his chest. The hell was that. He was being messed with surely. There was no conceivable way a guy like that was flirting with a guy like him. No, he needed to calm down, and chill out before he embarrassed himself further.
God, what had he become.
Theodore Nott generally liked to keep to himself. He observed others from afar, kept his head down, and minded his business. He liked it that way.
What he did not do was greet new neighbors. And he definitely did not offer them a ride in his car, much less to go grocery shopping with him. And answering the door half naked and sopping wet? Absolutely not. So how he had gotten to this point, he really didn't know.
It had all started when Theo had returned home one day to find Mattheo jamming a key into the lock of his door with a look of sheer rage and determination. From the stacks of boxes lining the halls, it was clear that this was his new neighbor.
“Are you— are you trying to break into my apartment?” he'd asked, trying to make light of what was surely about to be an awkward situation.
What he hadn't taken into account was the fact that his new neighbor was ridiculously attractive. Theo could feel his chest tighten, feet shifting awkwardly as the new neighbor fumbles with the key, clearly agitated as Theo directs him to the correct door.
He does his best to keep his eyes from raking the new stranger up and down, but he can't help the way they lock onto the soft brown curls, or the faint scar on the bridge of his nose.
The new neighbor doesn't even spare him a second glance when he calls out his name before Theo escapes into the safety of his apartment. Well. That was enough social interaction for the week. Humbling as always.
Theo has no clue what comes over him the next morning when he sees his handsome neighbor bent over his car, the hood propped up, shielding him from the early morning sun. When he offers him a ride, he's sure the curly haired boy will say no and they'll both move on with their day, so he can't help the perhaps overeager grin that spreads across his face when the boy gives in.
He finally learns his new neighbor's name, Mattheo, on their drive to the nearest grocery store, and really Theo is too focused on the mantra of 'stay calm, don't be weird' repeating in his head to pay attention to much else other than the giddiness of being within arms reach of Mattheo for an extended period of time.
When it comes time to pay, Theo tries to insist that it's no big deal as he pulls out his wallet, but one look from Mattheo has him melting into the floor. His cool, care-less attitude had Theo in a choke-hold, and paired with those big, brown eyes? Theo feared he was in over his head.
What Theo had now dubbed 'the cookie catastrophe' truly felt like an out of body experience in which Theo had no choice but to watch on in absolute horror.
The knocking had started shortly after Theo had stepped out of the shower. He was going to ignore it like he usually would, but against his better judgment he shuffled over to the door, peeking through the peephole to find Mattheo waiting on the other side. Not a single thought was running through Theo's brain as he swung the door open, not realizing until it was too late that his hair was sopping wet and he hadn't even had the decency to throw on sweatpants.
He tried to play it cool, leaning casually against the door frame and just hoping that if he didn't acknowledge it, neither would Matt. He watches though as Mattheo's eyes widen slightly, taking in the sight before him and clearing his throat. A hint of red appears in his cheeks and Theo can't help but grin as Mattheo stutters a bit over his words. But as soon as Mattheo presents him with homemade cookies, Theo just knows he's done for.
He doesn't even hear the words come out of his mouth, “I’d let you ride any time,” until Mattheo is sputtering in front of him, cheeks burning red as he laughs nervously, arm reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.
Theo can't help but admire the flexed bicep before quickly jumping to clarify that car issues could be annoying and hoping he'd saved any of what little dignity he had left. When Mattheo finally retreats back down the hallway, Theo slams his door shut with a resounding thud, the past several minutes feeling like a blur. What was wrong with him? He thought to himself, ripping the lid off the container and shoving a cookie into his mouth.
That's how he ended up here though, towel slung over his shoulder and clutching a bottle of shampoo in his free hand as he knocked shakily on Mattheo's door. He couldn’t help it. The only things he’d been thinking about these past few days were the way that blush had creeped up onto Mattheo’s face when he opened his door, and the way his muscles had flexed when he had reached up behind his head. But oh god, what was he doing here?
It's clear Mattheo is wondering the same thing when he opens the door, brows furrowing as his head tilts. Theo lets out a nervous cough.
"Ah, sorry to bother, the water's out in my apartment and I just got back from a run so I was wondering—" he lets the question hang in the air and Mattheo blinks once before rushing to pull the door open further.
"Yeah, of course, I mean sure. No problem," he replies, that familiar tinge of red once again painting his cheeks as Theo brushes past him. “Bathroom’s just there,” Matt says, directing him past the living room.
“Right, thanks,” Theo replies, taking his time to subtly glance about the apartment.
There was a sofa that looked like it had seen better days, a coffee table with take out containers littering the surface, the television had some movie flickering across the screen, and more boxes that needed to be unpacked.
As soon as the bathroom door closes behind Theo, his head falls back, a dry laugh escaping his lips. What had become of his life? This was psychopath behavior he thought wryly to himself. But he’d come this far.
Quickly switching the water on, Theo takes what has to be the fastest shower of his life before stepping out and doing his best to dry himself off. His sweatpants go on and then he looks at the ratty old shirt he’d worn over, another scandalous plan forming in his head. He really shouldn’t.
When he exits the bathroom, Mattheo’s head snaps onto him from his spot on the couch and Theo watches as the blood rushes to his face once more. He would never get tired of that.
“Whatcha watchin?” He asks, trying to keep a casual, straight face as Mattheo’s eyes noticeably lock in on his bare torso.
It takes a moment for Mattheo to respond and Theo can feel himself preening at the attention.
“Uh, whatever you want,” Mattheo replies, still openly gawking.
Theo raises an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his face, a newfound confidence beginning to grow.
“You inviting me to stay?”
The question seems to shake Matt out of his stupor as he finally seems to realize he was staring and blinks up at Theo.
“Only if you want. I don’t want to hold you hostage or anything,” he jokes with a sheepish grin.
Theo finds himself letting out a low chuckle, humoring his neighbor as he takes a seat next to him, his shirt and towel all but forgotten in a heap on the floor.
“I’ll order us a pizza. Least I can do since you let me rack up your water bill.”
Mattheo knew that he was going crazy. He'd accepted it really because every time he closed his eyes, visions of his shirtless neighbor eating pizza on his couch and laughing at his bad jokes flooded his mind. It was like the images were burned into the back of his eyelids.
This however, was an entirely new level of insanity, even for him. See it started simple enough, Theo had caught up to him in the parking lot and walked into the building with him. Only when Mattheo had gotten to his door, he'd reached into his jacket pocket for his key only to come up completely empty.
His frantic search had apparently caught Theo's attention because his neighbor had turned towards him, head tilted in that annoyingly sweet way and asked if he'd forgotten his key. And then of course his neighbor had to be all benevolent and chivalrous and offer to let Mattheo stay over in his apartment because the office was closed and calling a locksmith would be annoying and expensive. And how could Mattheo possibly say no when Theo was looking at him with eyes like that?
Mattheo was just about to bashfully accept the offer when his hands slid into the back pockets of his jeans, fingertips grazing across the cool, hard metal of his key. Clutching his fist, he shoves the key deeper into his pocket before following Theo into his apartment.
And now here he sat on Theo's pristine leather sofa eating Chinese takeout while being hyper aware of how often Theo's knee was knocking into his own.
"I can grab you a pair of shorts or something so you don't have to sleep in jeans," Theo is saying, breaking Mattheo out of his thoughts.
"Sorry?" Mattheo mumbles, clearly having not been paying attention to Theo.
Theo just laughs though, setting down his box of noodles.
"I was saying that you could borrow a pair of shorts or something so you don't have to sleep in jeans. Unless you like sleeping in denim of course."
"No, no, that would be great, thanks," Mattheo replies quickly, shoving another bite of eggroll into his mouth before he could say anything else stupid.
Theo lets out another soft laugh, his head shaking slightly as he gets up and disappears into what Mattheo would assume to be the bedroom. He reemerges just moments later with a pair of black athletic shorts, tossing them onto the couch next to Mattheo.
“I’ll find a movie or something to watch if you want to get changed. Bathroom’s over there,” Theo tells him.
It only takes Mattheo a minute or two to change and settle his heart rate before he re-emerges, settling back down on the couch. He knows he must look stiff as a board sitting there, but he can’t not focus on the way Theo’s eyes flicker as he watches the television, or the way his arm is slung casually across the back of the sofa, his hand mere centimeters away from the back of Mattheo’s head.
Mattheo could not tell someone a single plot point of the movie they’d just watched by the time the screen goes dark. He was far too busy over thinking. Too busy in fact that he barely hears Theo announce that he’s going to run to the bathroom.
“Hey, you left your jeans in the bathroom,” Theo calls out as he opens the door.
As he goes to toss the crumpled pile of fabric, to Mattheo’s absolute horror, a gleam of metal shines through the air before clattering onto the floor. Two pairs of eyes lock onto the familiar looking metal key. Mattheo lets out a nervous laugh.
"It was in there all along?" he chuckles, decently sure that there was fear written across his face.
But Theo just raises an eyebrow, a smile growing on his lips.
"Yeah, you know that's crazy. I'm sure you didn't just happen to forget it was there so you'd have an excuse to hang out with me," he replies cockily, inching towards Mattheo like a lion hunting its prey.
Mattheo gulps.
"Nah. No. That would be crazy," Mattheo laughs.
Theo is directly in front of him now, bent down to look him straight in the eyes.
"Crazy like pretending the water is out in your apartment so that you can use your hot neighbor's shower instead?" he asks.
Mattheo can feel his eyes widen slightly at the implication, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he searches for words.
"I have never baked cookies before in my life. Also, that day you gave me a ride to the store, it was just my spark plug that was loose. I could have fixed it in two seconds," he blurts out.
Theo is laughing now, collapsed on the sofa beside him as Mattheo also lets out a loud laugh, the insanity of it all finally crashing down on the both of them.
"That actually feels really good to have off my chest," Mattheo says once they'd both calmed down.
His head is resting against Theo's shoulder and his hand is entrapped between Theo's fingers.
"I hope you know I think you're a psychopath," Theo says, though there's no real bite to his words.
Mattheo just snorts in response.
"Oh you're one to talk. By the way, who the hell answers the door half bloody naked? What was that about?" he asks.
"I was excited to see you," Theo defends.
Mattheo can hear the sheepish smile in his voice as he tilts his head to rest on top of Mattheo's and it's quiet for a moment.
"So does this mean I can convince you to sleep in the bedroom tonight instead of on the couch?" Theo asks.
"Won't take a lot of convincing," Mattheo replies.
A silly little idiots-in-love piece that’s completely unserious because I can’t get these two dorks out of my head🤪
