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Lend me your voice, I’ll give you mine.

Reader is a ravenclaw who specializes in sound magic, having been born with an extreme sensitivity to noise. Theodore Nott is a slytherin who’s a hostage to his own bloodline. The two communicate through the walls of the school, their loneliness soothed by a stranger

a/n: hello! this is the longest chapter so far, so enjoy! yay theo it’s not one sided anymore

warnings: just a hint of angst

word count: 3.3k

Chapter 5

Chapter 6: The Architecture of a Stranger

There's something off about Theo.

You brushed off the weird hallway interaction you had with him as a one time thing, having completely forgotten about it the next day. It was just one interaction after all; a spur of the moment lapse in judgment resulting in a rare gesture of goodwill. It's hard to ignore it however, when one time turns into two, and soon enough you're experiencing his off-putting kindness more often than not.

Of course, he knows what he's doing. He purposefully starts taking winding, totally out of his way routes to his classes because he knows he'll run into you at least once on his way. He walks alone; thankfully his already established status as a loner makes this inconspicuous and he's free to look at you without the risk of attracting any unwanted attention from his house mates. You always look at him whenever he passes you, you really can't help it and he can always count on your eyes meeting his first. You do realize that you're seeing him more and more now everyday, but you try not to linger on it. You also try not to think about the way your stomach lurches every time he gives you that neutral, almost imperceptible acknowledgment of his. The steely gray of his eyes reminds you of the dark clouds only a Scottish winter could bring; it's unnerving and calming at the same time.

This quiet limbo between the two of you soon becomes harder to ignore over the next week. It's Tuesday, and you're struggling to open one of the notoriously heavy, jammed courtyard doors while balancing a massive stack of library books (Ravenclaws are, unfortunately, not known for their athleticism). Theo, who's been watching from one of the more concealed corners of the courtyard, approaches you with his usual air of indifference, though his heart is fluttering terribly. You don't see him coming, too preoccupied with your losing battle against the door, so when a voice speaks from behind, you jump, your books almost toppling over in your struggle to compose yourself.

"Move." he says, the flatness of his voice matching the lack of expression on his face.

"I was here first." you reply, your annoyance tripling now that he's involved. Again, the weird flipping in your stomach when his eyes meet yours.

"The term will be over before you figure out how to get inside." he snorts, arms crossed.

You look at him for a few seconds, a sharp retort dying in your throat. Your ears turn a bright pink as you straighten up, readjusting the books in your arms, and take a few steps back.

"Fine." you answer reluctantly, the earlier confidence in your voice no longer present.

The door opens after he gives it a good tug and he holds it open without saying anything; he just looks at you. It takes you a few seconds to realize he's waiting for you, and when you do, you bolt through the opening in a second, mumbling a barely comprehensible 'thank you' before disappearing down a hallway. You walk until you reach the safety of your empty classroom, haphazardly tossing the books on a nearby desk before flopping onto the floor. It's quiet now and you're not expecting company until later in the night. You force your heart to slow down until its beating at a reasonable rate; it takes a while for the heat burning in your face to subside. What is wrong with you? You shake your head, giving yourself a nice slap in the face. There's nothing wrong with you, it's just the overwhelming hatred you feel whenever he's nearby.

You wait in the room for a few hours, and the sun has set by the time you hear the familiar crackling of the spell coming to life.

"You're here early." the boy's voice rings out, washing over you.

"Just came here to think." A pause. "You said you're buddies with Nott right?"

"Uh…sure. Why?" Your unexpected question alarms him, and he sits up straighter to hear you better.

"Have you noticed anything off about him lately?"

"Not really. Have you?" he says, keeping his voice steady through his worsening anxiety.

"Yeah. He's being weird. Like, not completely insufferable weird."

"What'd he do now?" he says, feigning ignorance.

"Well, earlier today he held the door open for me. I know he was doing it to be nice even though he was rude about it. Oh and a few days ago, I was in the library trying to reach a book I needed and he snatched it up before I could, but then I found it on my desk later." you say, everything spilling out at once.

Theo presses his face into his hands, a giddy grin blooming across his face in the dark. Naturally, he remembers these things very well. He remembers how he had almost knocked over the bookshelf trying to get said book, and he remembers straining his shoulder trying to get that damn door open for you.

He clears his throat before he starts speaking. "Maybe he's had a change of heart. Or maybe he's just a creep that's stalking you."

You laugh, head leaning back to rest against the cool tile of the wall. "No way. I think he's just sick of wasting his energy on publicly hating me. He only does that stuff when he's alone anyway."

"What do you mean?" he says, the grin slowly falling from his face.

"Well, whenever he's walking with Riddle or Zabini he doesn't even spare me a glance. When he does, he looks at me like I'm something that got stuck on the bottom of his shoe. Every time he's done something remotely kind, it's never around any of them." you say, thinking back to every interaction you've had with him.

"Maybe he just doesn't want his friends to make fun of him." he says, shame and embarrassment causing a flush to creep up his neck.

"Well then they're crappy friends, but that's no surprise considering they're Slytherins. I guess I understand why he's acting like that but it's frustrating. I don't know what to think. How am I supposed to know if anything he does is actually genuine?" you sigh, unable to conceal the bitterness seeping into your words.

"Look at his family. To them you're either pureblood excellence or nothing at all. Do you really think he'd risk their scrutiny over some girl?" his own voice is louder now, the need to defend himself making his words sharper. He's angry now, not at you, but he needs to take his frustration on something and you happen to be here.

A thick, heavy silence fills the room.

He knows he's messed up, and now that there's nothing but silence, the words echo back, sounding much harsher than he had intended them to. He's scared of what you'll say and now he's imagining what your face must look like, which only spoils his mood even further.

"Some girl?" you repeat, your voice quieter now. The warmth of your tone now replaced by a stillness that made his stomach drop.

"I didn't mean—"

"No, you're right," you interrupt, your voice cutting through his panic with a sharp finality. "He's a Nott. His father is a Death Eater, of course he wouldn't risk his precious family name for a Ravenclaw he doesn't even know. I don't know why I was overthinking it. It's just politics."

"It's not—that's not what I meant," Theo's voice is ragged now. He feels sick and the normally comforting atmosphere of the room suddenly feels suffocating. You aren't "some girl", you're "the girl" but he can't tell you that. For his sake, and your own.

"It's fine," you say, the faint rustle of your robes signaling that you had already moved from your previously seated position. "It's late anyway. I have classes early tomorrow, so I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight."

"Wait-" the panic is worse now and he's up on his feet in a second.

The absence of any response is enough for him to know that you've already left.

He stands there for what feels like an eternity in the darkness. The only noise in the room is the faint rattling of the windows as the wind passes every now and then.

"Bloody idiot," he murmurs, kicking the wall hard. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

He didn't mean to get so snappy. You're right about everything, you always are and that makes him nervous.

____________________________________________

The next morning in the Great Hall is nothing short of torture.

He hadn't slept a wink and he was already in a pissy mood, the boys around him only making it worse. He's staring down at the black cup of coffee before him, hoping that if he looks long enough, it'll give him some sort of answer to the problem that's constantly thrumming in his mind. He lifts his head the second you enter the Hall (it's his sixth sense) and his eyes meet yours. This time however, you look away quickly, not acknowledging him at all. Yes he expected this, and yes he deserves this, but it still sends a sharp ache of despair through his chest.

"Rough night?" Mattheo's smug grin suddenly blocks his view as he sits down in front of him, loading his plate up with eggs and toast. "Still getting nightmares?" he asks curiously, words muffled as he stuffs his face.

"You're gross, close your mouth." Theo looks at the boy in front of him, grimacing at his lack of manners. "I'm fine. Worry about all those essays for Binns you still haven't started." he stands up, pushing his plate of uneaten toast away and grabbing his bag. "I'm going to class early." he leaves before anyone can answer, giving you one last look before leaving the Hall.

You're avoiding Theodore Nott. You don't give him a chance to be alone with you anymore, running off the minute you even sense his presence; you don't look at him either. Though you're keeping your distance and avoiding his gaze, you can't help but watch him whenever you happen to share a class that day. His ambigious personality does get on your nerves, but you're more curious than angry. You know nothing about him, not really, so you decide to do some research of your own; from afar of course.

Double potions that afternoon is uneventful as it normally is, except this time you spend your time studying him. Your partner, some Slytherin girl who clearly wants to work on the assignment on her own, doesn't say a word about your lack of involvement and that works perfectly for you. You stare at the back of his head, humming to yourself as you watch him carefully measure and prepare the ingredients.

Theo is completely oblivious. He's sitting a few seats ahead of you, partnered up with Blaise Zabini, but he's hyper focused on his own tasks, isolated to his own world of misery. Your eyes trace his figure, noticing the unconscious tics that come about every now and then. He's chopping sopophorous beans, his long, pale fingers gripping the knife with unnecessary tightness. Every few seconds, you notice his left index finger tap a silent, agitated rhythm against the wooden handle, clearly a nervous habit. Whenever Blaise leans over to whisper some snarky remark, Theo doesn't give him much of a response; his jaw just tightening as he gives him a stiff, slight flick of his head that could almost be considered a nod.

Whenever Snape swept past his table, Theo's posture became even more tense. He'd straighten his spine, his head raising as he assumed an air of superiority that suited a boy with a name like his. He'd answer all the sharp questions sent his way with a flawless, effortless fluency that left you impressed. The second Snape turned away, his robes billowing behind him as he moved to scold a Ravenclaw boy who's cauldron was bubbling with something unfortunate, Theo let out a heavy breath, his shoulders dropping to make him look younger. He'd rub his temple with the back of his hand as he turned his focus back onto preparing the ingredients. You'd watch this happen every time, his expression always sending a pang of sympathy through your chest.

After a few days of observation, you couldn't help but admit that his little habits were endearing and you now looked forward to the classes you shared together. There was just something captivating about watching the prideful, untouchable Theodore Nott let down his guard when he believed no one was looking. He becomes a fixture in the background of your week, a puzzle you study carefully over time.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts that week, the class was instructed to practice complex shield charms. Malfoy, of course, was loudly showing off his casting arc while Theo stood a few paces back, his movements silent and precise. When the professor turned to inspect another student, his cool compusre slipped and he messed up the wrist flick on a jinx; he let out a huff of frustration, his hands combing through his hair a few times as he composed himself. He quickly glanced around the room to make sure no one had seen the mistake, unware that you were hiding a smile behind the textbook you'd been ostensibly reading.

The next morning in History of Magic, a class where nearly everyone (even the ghosts) drifted off, Theo was one of the few still trying to take notes. You sit a row behind him and to the left, which gives you a perfect view of his profile. He's fighting a losing battle against sleep, his head dropping toward his parchment as he struggles to stay upright. Every time he starts to nod off, he jolts himself awake, straightening up as he goes right back to writing. You're wide awake, watching him is all the reason you need not to fall asleep. He's fidgeting with a coin, some odd emblem engraved on it, turning it over and over again in his hand to keep his mind from drifting off. He eventually gives up on the note taking, his chin resting on his hand as he leans forward, staring blankly at the blackboard.

Your amusement when it comes to his behavior has morphed into something much more complicated. It takes you about a week to come to the conclusion that the affinity you now feel for him can only be because of the small, accidental crush you've developed. It's nothing big; you chalk it up to your fondness for pretty faces, though you really can't stop thinking about his eyes, and his hands, and the way his hair falls in his face when he's really focused on something. It's not good for you because now you can't even pay attention in class; you end up staring at him the whole time anyway. It's completely absurd and liking him basically makes you a masochist because you know he'll never look your way. Seriously, he's a Slytherin, his father is terrifying, and up until three weeks ago, you had actively despised him. This is too much for you to bear on your own so you go to the only person in the whole castle who you trust enough to carry this secret with you.

You're jogging towards your abandoned classroom, quickly settling yourself against the wall as your heart hammers with a nervous, giddy energy, eager to spill its contents to the boy on the other end. You tap the wall a few times before speaking, your voice a breathless, quiet rush.

"Are you there? You won't believe the week I've had. I need you to talk me out of something insane."

Theo had been sitting, waiting for you for what felt like hours. He perks up at the sound of your voice, inching closer to the wall.

"I'm here. What happened?" he murmurs quickly, a bit anxious now, like he always was whenever he was unsure about what you wanted to talk about.

"Promise you won't laugh at me," you say, a soft, embarrassed laugh escaping you. "Because I feel like I'm going crazy. I think I have a crush on a guy and it's embarrassing but I just needed to tell you."

He freezes, wondering if his hearing is suffering from the lack of sleep. He waits a few seconds for you to come back and say 'Got you! I'm just joking, dummy!,' but nothing comes.

"A crush." he repeats flatly, an icy suffocating weight suddenly flooding his chest. A guy. You liked a guy. Who could it be? A dumb Gryffindor on the quidditch team? No, maybe you were into that Hufflepuff that's always talking to you in Herbology. A hot wave of jealousy washes over him, his fingers digging into his palms.

"Yeah, very unbecoming of me right?" you snort, oblivious to his turmoil. "Well, you know that I was ignoring Nott for a bit, I told you that. The things you said to me got to my head and I was overthinking things. I was angry yeah, and a bit humiliated but I was more curious than anything. So, I've been watching him for this past week in class, just to understand him better…not in a creepy way or anything."

"Where are you going with this?" his voice is tense and impatient. "What, you like him now or something? He's your guy?" he laughs, the words leaving him before he can stop them.

"…"

"You're joking."

"…"

"You're not joking."

"I told you it was bad!" you groan, covering your face, your voice muffled through your hands.

"Seriously? Theodore Nott? The same guy you've been complaining about for months?" he says this with a scoff, though it's more of a choked sound because he's breathless now and his face is burning furiously. He had a feeling someone was watching him this past week, but he never thought it'd be you.

"I know! I know! I don't know what to do. Tell me I should forget about it, that he's a horrible, arrogant Slytherin that I'm just wasting my feelings on."

"Okay. He's a horrible, arrogant Slytherin that you're wasting your feelings on." he deadpans, though he's smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

"You're being snarky. I'm having a dilemma and this is how you help me?" you say, though there's no real anger in your tone.

"Sorry, can't help it." he laughs, and you can't help but smile now too. It's nice to hear. "But Nott? Have some self respect. He's not the pinnacle of romance if you haven't noticed."

"Don't be mean, I told you it was insane. It's not my fault he's got a nice face." you protest halfheartedly.

"Look, if you're going to harbor a tragic, one-sided crush on a Slytherin, at least pick someone who's not totally off limits."

"Well who else is there? Riddle's an idiot, Malfoy probably cries more than I do, and Zabini is Zabini. Not many options if you ask me."

"For starters, you could turn your attention to any of the other houses. Why'd you choose the worst one?"

"That's harsh, you're a Slytherin too aren't you?" you muse, content with the bickering.

"Well yeah but that's different." Theo's fidgeting with the coin in his pocket now, his fingers tracing the emblem of his family's crest. "Thanks for telling me anyway, it's nice knowing you have issues too."

"You're really the worst. I'm going to bed before you stress me out even more. Goodnight." you say standing up now, your tone light hearted.

"Go to bed creep. Goodnight." he murmurs, standing up too, exhausted now that the tension has left his body.

He dreams of his father that night for the first time in a while.

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