more theo angst!! please!!
The Once Brightest Star
Pairings ; Theodore Nott x M!Reader
Summary ; You, the kindest Gryffindor at Hogwarts, fall for Theodore Nott—unaware that he’s only dating you because of a cruel Slytherin bet. After four sweet, star-filled months, he breaks your heart in front of everyone. The smile that once lit up the castle fades, and as you fall apart, Theodore realizes too late that he truly loves you.
A/N ; try not to cry 😉. I swear to fucking merlin if this flops I'm killing myself, THIS FANFIC IS LITERALLY THE MOST CHAOTIC ONE. My Tumblr kept crashing, my shit wasn't saving and oh my god it was war.
Warnings ; Heavy angst, betrayal, public humiliation, emotional manipulation, mental health themes, and regret.
Word count; 6.1k+
| Part 2 — Part 3 | drabble
Theodore Nott had always been a mystery. Quiet, observant, charming when he wanted to be, but cruel when it suited him. And right now, he was seated in the Slytherin common room, legs crossed on a leather armchair as the firelight danced across his sharp features. Around him lounged the usual suspects—Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Pansy Parkinson, and Astoria Greengass. They sat in a semicircle, all eyes focused on Theo, the air thick with amusement and cruel curiosity.
They were bored. And when the Slytherin elite were bored, it meant trouble for someone else.
“You know,” Mattheo began, twirling a silver coin between his fingers, “we haven’t had a proper laugh since Halloween. I’m starting to forget what entertainment feels like.”
“Speak for yourself,” Pansy said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I laughed so hard when that Hufflepuff girl tripped over her own robes last week.”
“That wasn’t entertainment, Pans,” Blaise drawled, his voice like silk and sin. “That was just sad.”
“We need something juicy,” Astoria said, glancing at her manicured nails. “Something cruel.”
Lorenzo smirked. “How about Gryffindor’s sweetheart?”
All heads turned.
“You mean Y/N?” Draco asked, arching a brow. “The one who helped you clean up after you accidentally hexed yourself in Transfiguration?”
“Exactly,” Lorenzo said, grinning. “He’s so bloody kind it makes me sick.”
“He helped me too,” Blaise admitted with a smirk. “Carried my books to the infirmary when I got hit by a rogue Bludger. Didn’t even ask for anything in return.”
Mattheo leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “That’s it then. We ruin him.”
“Subtly,” Pansy added, smiling cruelly. “We’re Slytherins. Not brutes.”
“What do you have in mind?” Theodore asked, though his voice held more interest than caution.
Mattheo grinned like the devil himself. “A bet. You, Theo. You’re going to date him.”
Theodore raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”
“Because he already looks at you like you hung the stars,” Blaise said, chuckling. “You’re halfway there.”
“And you’ve got the charm,” Astoria added. “When you want to, anyway.”
Theodore stayed quiet for a moment, letting the idea settle.
“A hundred galleons from each of us,” Mattheo said smoothly. “All you have to do is date him. Four months. Then dump him—publicly.”
“In front of everyone,” Draco emphasized, voice tinged with excitement. “Make sure the whole school sees it.”
“That’ll break him,” Pansy said, practically purring.
“His friends will try to put him back together,” Astoria added, “but we’ll know he’s never going to be the same.”
Theodore looked into the fire, jaw tightening. One hundred galleons from each of them. That was six hundred galleons. Enough to make anyone pause. Enough to make even him consider it.
He thought of your smile—the way it made you look like you didn’t belong in the same world as the rest of them. Of how you always had something kind to say, even to those who sneered at you. Of how you held the door open for professors, offered help to Hufflepuffs with their potions, even greeted Slytherins with a gentle nod instead of fear or judgment.
“Four months?” Theodore asked.
“Four,” Mattheo confirmed.
“Then I’ll do it,” Theodore said, the words leaving his mouth cold and smooth.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Draco said, grinning wide.
And just like that, the countdown began.
You were sitting in the Astronomy Tower when it happened. Late evening, starlight dusting your skin as you scribbled notes in your parchment. A breeze blew through your robes, and you tilted your head back to admire the sky. The cold stone beneath you was oddly comforting, grounding you as your eyes scanned the stars like they were old friends.
“There you are,” a voice said behind you.
You turned, startled but quickly relaxing. “Theodore?”
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed but gaze soft. “Mind if I join you?”
You smiled without hesitation. “Of course not.”
He walked over and sat beside you, his cloak brushing yours as he settled on the ledge. For a moment, the two of you said nothing. The only sounds were the distant hooting of an owl and the wind howling gently through the gaps in the stone.
Then you pointed toward the sky, eyes sparkling. “See that one? That’s Orion. He’s my favorite.”
Theodore tilted his head slightly, following your finger. “Why?”
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and spoke like you’d been waiting for someone to ask. “Because no matter where you are in the world, Orion’s always there. It doesn’t matter if you’re in England or the other side of the planet. He’s a constant.” Your voice softened. “I think that’s beautiful.”
He watched you, not the stars. The way your eyes reflected the constellations, the way your words carried a weight most people overlooked. You weren’t just looking at the sky. You were connected to it.
“You’re into all this space stuff, huh?” he said with a small smirk.
You grinned. “I love it. The stars, the planets, galaxies—do you know how long it takes for light from some of these stars to reach us?”
“No,” he replied truthfully.
“Hundreds of years,” you said. “Some of the stars we see? They’ve already died. We’re looking at ghosts in the sky.”
Theodore looked up, suddenly seeing it all a bit differently. “That’s… kind of haunting.”
You chuckled. “Isn’t it? But I think it’s comforting, too. Like, even after they’re gone, they still leave something behind. A trace of who they were. They don’t just disappear.”
He glanced sideways at you. “You talk about stars like they’re people.”
You shrugged. “Maybe they are. Maybe we all are. Bright for a while, then gone… but if we’re lucky, we leave something behind.”
A silence settled over you both again, this time warm.
Peaceful.
You turned your body to face him more. “What about you? Do you have a favorite constellation?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I stare at the sky often?”
You laughed. “Not really. But you should. It’s a good reminder that we’re small. And that some things are bigger than our problems.”
He hummed in response. “I guess I wouldn’t mind if you were teaching me.”
That made your cheeks burn. You looked down at your hands, fiddling with the corner of your parchment. “Really?”
He leaned in a little closer. “Yeah. You're… interesting.”
You bit your bottom lip, then smiled, shyly. “I’d be happy to teach you. The stars have a lot to say if you just listen.”
As you returned your gaze to the sky, pointing out Cassiopeia with soft enthusiasm, Theodore only half-listened. The other half of him was watching you again—how your lips moved, how your hands danced in the air as you explained, how your eyes never lost that wonder.
And for just a second… he forgot about the bet.
You started waiting for him outside his classes, always with a soft smile and something sweet tucked in your hand—sometimes a chocolate frog, other times a sugar quill you’d saved from Honeydukes. You’d greet him like he was the only person in the corridor, eyes lighting up every time he met your gaze.
You shared your pumpkin pasties with him in the library, giggling when Madam Pince shushed you both for laughing too loud. You’d lean close as you showed him the notes you'd made for Astronomy, doodles of constellations dancing in the margins. He'd pretend not to notice how your hand always lingered near his, how your shoulder brushed his when you got excited explaining the moons of Jupiter.
You invited him to your late-night Astronomy sessions more and more, always at the top of the tower where the stars were clearest. And every time, he showed up. No matter how cold the wind was, no matter how tired he claimed to be, Theodore would appear with his hands shoved into his pockets and that unreadable look on his face—like he wasn’t sure if he belonged there… but he stayed anyway.
And slowly, your hand began brushing against his. At first accidental. Then deliberate. You started laughing softer around him, voice a little breathier, eyes a little shinier. You bit your lip when he stared too long, cheeks dusted pink whenever he complimented you—rare as it was.
You started hoping.
You introduced him to your friends when he passed by your table, and though Hermione watched him suspiciously and Ron narrowed his eyes, you always waved it off. “He’s not like the others,” you said more than once. “He’s… different.”
You even helped a few Slytherins who sneered at you in the halls, offered your hand when one tripped, walked another to the Hospital Wing when he’d gotten hexed during practice. You greeted Blaise when you passed him in the corridor, waved at Astoria during breakfast even if she never waved back, and offered Mattheo a chocolate frog once—which he took without a thank you, but you still smiled anyway.
And Theodore noticed.
He noticed everything.
“You’re too kind,” he told you one night, as you sat beside the lake. The moonlight shimmered on the surface, and your reflection glowed faintly beside his.
You looked up, confused. “Like what?”
“Good,” he said, quieter this time. “Even to people who don’t deserve it.”
You gave him that warm, unshakeable smile. “Because… no one deserves to be treated like they’re nothing. Not even the meanest ones. Everyone’s got something good inside them. Sometimes it just takes longer to show.”
Theodore stared at you, jaw tense. Something in his chest tightened—foreign and unwelcome. This wasn’t part of the plan. You were supposed to fall for him, not the other way around. You were supposed to be just another naive Gryffindor. Not someone he actually looked forward to seeing every night. Not someone who made his heart feel like it was on fire.
But your laugh stayed with him long after you left. So did the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the stars. So did the way you always remembered the tiniest things about him—even things he didn’t think mattered.
This was still just a game. Right?
Wasn’t it?
It was late—well past curfew—but that never stopped you. Especially not when the stars were this clear. You were already seated on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, legs swinging slightly over the edge, a thick wool scarf wrapped loosely around your neck. The wind was cold, but your heart was warm—because he was here. Just like always.
Theodore leaned against the railing beside you, arms crossed and silent as usual. You didn’t mind. He rarely talked up here. That was your job.
“And that one right there,” you said, pointing upward with gloved fingers, “is Sirius. It’s the brightest star in the night sky—not a planet, not a reflection, an actual star. It’s about twenty-five times more luminous than the sun. Isn’t that insane?”
You looked at him, expecting a smirk, maybe a raised brow or some teasing comment. But instead, you were met with eyes so unreadable, they made your chest tighten.
Undeterred, you smiled and turned your attention back to the sky. “Stars are so dramatic, honestly. They burn themselves out just to shine. And when they die, they explode. Huge, fiery tantrums in space. Makes you wonder if the universe is just full of drama queens.”
That got a faint exhale of amusement from Theodore. You grinned at the sound and kept going.
“I think that’s why I love them so much. They’re loud in their silence. You look up and it’s peaceful, but the science behind them? It’s chaos. Energy and gas and gravity ripping them apart.” You leaned your head back until your hair brushed the stone. “It’s kind of beautiful, really. How something so far away can make you feel like you’re not alone.”
You went quiet then, eyes searching the constellations. Theodore watched you. Watched the way your smile softened when you looked at the sky, the way you hugged your knees in the cold, the way your breath curled in the night air like clouds.
He had come here tonight to play the part. Listen to you ramble about planets and stars like you always did. Maybe hold your hand. Maybe lean just a little closer so you’d fall a little harder.
But when you turned to him with that pure, trusting light in your eyes—the one that made him feel seen without even trying—his resolve crumbled.
You were still speaking, something about Orion’s Belt, when Theodore took a step forward. Then another.
You trailed off mid-sentence, confused, your brows knitting. “Theo?”
He didn’t say anything. He just looked at you—really looked at you—like the stars weren’t even worth glancing at when you were here. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out.
His hand was cool against your skin as he gently cupped your cheek.
You froze.
His thumb brushed your jaw, and for once, you were the quiet one. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him.
And then—without warning, without fanfare—he kissed you.
His lips were soft and slow, like he was trying to memorize the moment. Your eyes fluttered shut, your heart thundering in your chest as you kissed him back. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry. It was gentle.
The kind of kiss that says I see you. I hear you. I’m here.
When he pulled away, your eyes were wide and dazed. “W-What was that?” you whispered.
Theodore hesitated. He was supposed to lie. Say it was for fun, for practice, a joke, a dare. But none of those things left his mouth.
“I like you,” he said instead, his voice low, but honest.
You stared at him, eyes shining like the stars above. “You do?”
He nodded, brushing his thumb beneath your eye. “More than I expected to.”
And just like that, your world shifted.
You smiled—so big and bright and beautiful. “I’ve liked you for ages,” you admitted, cheeks flushed. “I just didn’t think you’d ever—”
“I do,” he interrupted softly. “I see you, Y/N.”
Your breath hitched. “Then… will you be mine?”
He leaned in again, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah. I’m yours.”
And in your chest, a supernova of joy bloomed.
You didn’t know, of course, that the clock was already ticking. That the countdown had begun the moment he shook Mattheo’s hand.
All you knew was that Theodore Nott—cool, quiet, untouchable—was kissing you beneath the stars.
And for the first time in your life, you felt infinite.
It was strange, the way Theodore made everything feel like magic without ever casting a single spell.
You never expected it, really. You were the sweet Gryffindor who brought extra quills for your classmates, helped first-years find their classes, and got detention once because you refused to leave a Hufflepuff behind after they’d twisted their ankle on the moving staircase. You were the soft-spoken stargazer who waved to portraits and always left the Astronomy Tower a little warmer than you found it.
And Theodore Nott? Cold, composed, distant. A Slytherin with a stare so sharp it could cut glass, and a mouth that rarely moved unless it was to cast sarcasm or smoke. If anyone had told you a few months ago that he of all people would be watching the stars with you, you'd have laughed. But now?
Now he was the one tugging your scarf tighter when the wind bit too sharply. The one saving a seat for you at lunch—even at the Gryffindor table, when he thought no one was looking. The one who said your name like it was something secret.
Your dates weren’t grand or loud. They weren’t meant for show. They were quiet things—hidden smiles, fingers brushing beneath library tables, the sound of his laugh when you made some ridiculous astronomy pun that no one else would understand.
Like that late afternoon in the library.
You were supposed to be revising for Herbology, but you’d started doodling constellations in the margins of your notes. Theodore watched, lounging in the chair beside you, one hand resting beneath his chin.
“That one looks like a rat,” he said lazily.
You gasped. “That’s not a rat! That’s Scorpius! It’s one of the oldest constellations in the sky!”
He smirked. “Looks like a rodent with extra limbs.”
“You’re a menace,” you huffed, swatting his arm with your parchment.
He grabbed your wrist mid-swat and pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a lazy kiss to your knuckles. “Mm. You’re dramatic when you're passionate. It’s kind of cute.”
You froze.
“I—I'm not dramatic!” you blurted.
Theodore only grinned, smug and soft all at once, and leaned back like he hadn’t just melted your brain with a single sentence.
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There was also that snowy Saturday in Hogsmeade. It had started out innocent—you just wanted to get a new astronomy journal and maybe a few peppermint candies. But somehow Theodore ended up holding your mittened hand, leading you through snow-covered cobblestones like he actually knew what he was doing.
“I swear the tea shop is this way,” he said, tugging you down a narrow alley that looked suspiciously abandoned.
“You said that three turns ago,” you teased, breath clouding in the cold air.
“Maybe I just want more time alone with you.”
That shut you up.
The shop, when you finally reached it, was small and tucked behind a row of bakeries. The inside was all fogged windows and velvet chairs, the scent of cinnamon and clove clinging to the air. The shopkeeper—a kind-eyed older woman—beamed when she saw Theodore.
“Haven’t seen you in ages, dear,” she said, passing him two steaming mugs. “This must be someone special.”
Theodore didn’t look at you. “He is.”
You nearly choked on your tea.
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Back in the castle, the sweetness didn’t stop. If anything, it bloomed.
He’d wait for you after class, leaning against the wall like some kind of gothic statue, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded—but when you appeared, his gaze softened.
He started showing up to Astronomy Club. He never answered a single question, never even looked at the night sky. He just sat beside you, letting his knee press against yours under the desk, his fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve.
“I like it when you talk about the stars,” he murmured once, just loud enough for you to hear. “You get this look. Like you’ve been touched by something ancient.”
You blinked. “That’s… oddly poetic for you.”
“I have layers,” he said dryly. “Don’t get used to it.”
You did get used to it, though. The way he’d look at you when you were excited. The way he’d tug your scarf over your mouth and say it was 'so you’d shut up,' but his eyes always lingered a little too long. The way his thumb would brush your hand like he needed to remember how you felt.
And at night—always at night—you returned to your tower.
The Astronomy Tower had become yours. The castle was huge, full of secrets and dungeons and ghosts, but that little piece of sky belonged to just the two of you.
You’d bring blankets and stolen sweets from the kitchens. He’d bring silence and something steadier than starlight.
You’d talk for hours, your voice dancing through the night air.
“And those tiny dots in Orion’s Belt?” you said one night, pointing up at the cluster of stars. “Those are actually part of a nebula—the birthplace of stars. Literal nurseries in the cosmos.”
Theodore hummed, laying on his back with your head on his chest. “Nurseries in the sky… Sounds like a fairytale.”
“Maybe the universe is one big story.”
He didn’t answer right away.
You tilted your head. “What are you thinking about?”
He looked down at you, eyes tired and soft. “That I’m scared.”
Your brows furrowed. “Of what?”
“Of ruining this. Of being the reason that light in your eyes goes out.”
Your heart cracked open like a geode, glittering and aching all at once. You sat up slowly, cupping his face with your hands.
“You won’t ruin it, Theo.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t need to know that. I just… I trust you.”
He exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch.
You kissed him then—slow and sure, your thumb brushing along his cheek.
“I trust you,” you whispered again, as if it could protect you both.
And Theodore? He held you tighter.
Even though something inside him whispered that he didn’t deserve it.
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There were so many perfect moments that winter.
Like the time you were sitting on the Quidditch stands long after practice had ended. Snow was falling, light and gentle, and you were tucked under his cloak, sharing body heat.
You were talking about Saturn’s rings—how they weren’t solid, just ice and rock suspended in orbit.
“They only look solid from far away,” you said, tracing lines on his palm. “Up close, they’re just chaos. Fragments. Debris.”
“Sounds like me,” Theodore murmured.
You looked up. “What?”
“I look fine from far away,” he said. “But I’m a mess when you get close.”
You frowned and pressed your forehead to his. “You’re not a mess. You’re just… layered.”
He chuckled. “You always see the best in people.”
“Only the ones worth seeing.”
And that time, when he kissed you, it was with both hands cradling your face, like he was trying to memorize it. Like maybe he already knew he’d have to let go someday.
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He was falling in love with you.
And maybe… maybe you were already there.
You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on you when you walked away. You didn’t know he’d stopped counting the galleons in his head weeks ago. That the whispers from his so-called friends were starting to grate, not amuse.
That the bet—the stupid, cruel bet—felt like a chain around his throat now.
But you loved him. Fully, fiercely, like a shooting star that refused to burn out.
And for a while, he let himself believe he could love you back forever.
Even if time was running out.
You woke up that morning with a smile on your face.
There was still a shimmer of stardust in your thoughts from the night before—wrapped in Theodore’s arms in the Astronomy Tower, your head on his shoulder, the constellations above whispering secrets only you could understand. You'd traced his knuckles with your thumb, whispering about the Kissing Stars and how they only align once every few years. He hadn’t said much, but he’d looked at you like you mattered.
Like you were his.
So you’d walked to the Great Hall with your chest light and your cheeks warm, clutching a folded piece of parchment with a scribbled drawing of the stars. You’d written his name in them. You were going to give it to him today—your little way of saying I love you, even if you hadn’t said it out loud yet.
When you stepped inside, the usual noise greeted you—students laughing, talking, eating. But something felt… off.
The Slytherin table was watching you.
No, waiting for you.
Blaise leaned into Draco’s ear, whispering something that made him choke on his pumpkin juice. Pansy was already giggling. Mattheo didn’t even pretend to hide his shit-eating grin. And Theodore—
Theodore sat there with his arms folded, cold eyes fixed on you like you were something disposable. Unrecognizable. The warmth was gone.
Still, you smiled and made your way over, ignoring the tension. “Theo, hey,” you said sweetly, gently bumping his arm as you sat beside him. “Guess what? I found another constellation last night—it looked like a fox! I named it after you—clever and charming and—”
“Stop talking.”
The words were quiet. Sharp.
You blinked, your smile faltering. “What?”
“I said stop talking.” He turned to you fully, face devoid of anything tender. “Merlin, do you ever fucking shut up?”
Your breath caught in your throat.
A hush began to fall over the Great Hall.
Students slowed their chewing. Conversations dulled. Even the teachers seemed to sense something was about to happen.
“I—I was just telling you about the stars—”
“I don’t care about the stars,” he snapped. “Or your stupid constellations. I never did.”
Your face paled.
“Theo… what are you saying?”
He stood then, loud and deliberate, pushing back from the bench like you’d said something disgusting. “I’m saying I’m done pretending.”
Every table went silent.
He stepped in front of you, towering. Cold. Cruel.
“The only reason I ever gave you the time of day was because of a bet.” His voice was clear. Loud. Unapologetic. “Four months. That’s all you were. Four months, 600 galleons, and a joke.”
You couldn’t speak.
You couldn’t even breathe.
Your whole body froze as the Slytherins behind him burst out laughing.
“Fucking finally!” Mattheo crowed. “I thought you were gonna crack and kiss his forehead again, lover boy.”
Draco howled. “Can you believe the idiot fell for it? I mean—stars? Really?”
“Oh, the way he blushed whenever Theo held his hand,” Astoria cooed mockingly. “He was practically wagging his tail.”
Theodore kept his eyes on you.
There was a flicker of regret. A shadow of guilt.
But it wasn’t enough to stop him from saying:
“You’re pathetic, Y/N.”
The words hit harder than any hex.
You flinched, visibly, the parchment slipping from your hand. It fluttered to the floor—your sketch of the stars and his name shining in them—forgotten.
Theodore kept going.
“You followed me around like a stray mutt. Always smiling. Always fucking talking about your precious constellations like I gave a damn. You thought I actually cared? That we were real?”
Your lips trembled. You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
You wanted to scream. To cry. To ask him why.
Why?
Why he kissed you. Why he held you in the dark and let you dream. Why he made you believe you were enough.
Instead, all you whispered was, “I loved you.”
The laughter died.
Even the Slytherins blinked, some shifting uncomfortably.
Theodore faltered—but only for a moment. And that was the worst part.
He hesitated.
He had the chance to stop this. To take it back.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he looked you dead in the eyes and said, “Well, I never did.”
And just like that—your heart shattered.
Not like glass. Not like something quick or clean.
It broke slowly.
Painfully.
You felt it crack, piece by piece, like the universe was pulling every star you ever loved from the sky and crushing it in front of you.
Hermione was the first to stand.
“That’s enough!” she snapped, voice shaking with fury. “You—you monster!”
Ron and Harry were already moving, storming toward the Slytherin table, wands halfway drawn.
But you didn’t move.
You sat there, shaking, broken, and humiliated. The bright Gryffindor everyone adored—now just a ghost.
And then you stood.
Not because you wanted to.
Because you had to.
You walked away slowly, footsteps heavy, heart in ruins. You didn’t even look at him as you passed. You couldn’t. You were afraid if you saw his face again, you'd crumble completely.
You reached the doors just as Harry called out, “Y/N! Please—wait!”
Ron's voice cracked. “He’s not worth it! Please, come back!”
But you kept walking.
And when you were gone—truly gone—the Great Hall stayed quiet.
Theodore sat back down, but he didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. He looked at the parchment still lying on the floor.
His name.
In the stars.
And for the first time in years, he felt truly, utterly, alone.
Meanwhile, you ran.
Up the stairs. Past portraits that whispered in concern. Past a group of Hufflepuffs who stepped aside, mouths agape at the wreckage written on your face.
You didn’t stop until you reached the Astronomy Tower.
And there, with the cold wind biting your skin and your knees giving out beneath you, you finally collapsed.
Your cries echoed against the stone. The sky above, once your favorite comfort, felt like a cruel reminder. You looked up through blurry eyes, searching for the stars you loved so dearly.
But they didn’t shine the same anymore.
Not now.
Not after him.
It started with silence.
And not the peaceful kind—the kind that swells and settles like a storm cloud just before it breaks. You didn’t speak the next day. Or the day after that. You barely looked at anyone.
The once-bright boy who used to laugh at breakfast, pass out candy during study groups, and wave excitedly at professors even when he was late—was gone.
You weren’t you anymore.
And everyone noticed.
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Gryffindor Tower was tense.
Hermione watched you carefully from across the common room, her eyes darting every time you so much as moved. She tried to talk to you gently at first.
“Y/N, do you want to go over Charms together? You always help me with the incantation rhythm—”
You shook your head once.
“I’m fine.”
You weren’t.
Ron offered his last two Chocolate Frogs that night. The same boy who wouldn’t share with his own brothers.
“Mate,” he said softly, “come sit with us, yeah? We’ll throw on some music, Hermione’ll start arguing about Runes again, and we’ll forget the Slytherin git ever existed.”
But you just smiled.
That awful, empty, polite smile.
“Maybe tomorrow.”
You didn’t mean it.
And Harry—Harry sat with you in the common room one night, past midnight. He didn’t say much. Just sat nearby, watching you stare into the fire, unmoving.
When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.
“He never deserved you.”
You didn’t answer.
You didn’t cry.
You just blinked and whispered, “I should’ve known.”
That’s what broke Harry.
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It spread to the classrooms.
You, who once raised your hand for every question, who used to help the younger students find their assigned partners, who made Professor Sprout smile with your enthusiastic herbology notes—you stopped trying.
You still showed up. Still did your homework. Still got top marks.
But it was lifeless.
Mechanical.
Professor McGonagall asked you to stay after Transfiguration one morning. The room emptied around you, but you remained at your desk, eyes staring ahead.
She walked toward you slowly, her hands folded in front of her.
“Mr. L/N,” she said softly. “You’ve always been one of my brightest. One of Hogwarts’ brightest.”
You didn’t respond.
“I know heartbreak,” she continued, her voice a gentle tremble. “It leaves its mark. But you don’t have to carry it alone.”
You blinked up at her then. For a brief second, she swore she saw that old light flicker back in your eyes.
“I’m fine, Professor,” you said quietly.
And it shattered her.
She didn’t believe you. No one did.
But you were convincing.
Too convincing.
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The next day, Professor Sinistra stopped you after Astronomy class.
“Y/N,” she said softly, frowning, “you haven’t turned in your celestial chart. Are you… alright?”
You blinked.
"Oh,” you said. “I forgot.”
She stared at you for a long moment. “You’ve never forgotten before. Is everything okay?”
You nodded. “Yes, Professor.”
But it was a lie. And she knew it.
She watched you leave the classroom, your shoulders hunched, the usual bounce in your step gone. Her heart ached for you.
She remembered you staying behind after class, excitedly rambling about star clusters and constellations, asking her questions she hadn’t even thought of. You were one of her brightest students.
Now, you didn’t even look at the sky.
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Even the portraits whispered.
They talked among themselves when you passed. That you were too quiet. That the cheerful Gryffindor had changed. One old witch in the Charms corridor even told her neighbor, “That one’s heartbroken, through and through. You can see it in the way he walks.”
And they were right.
You didn’t walk the same. You didn’t look the same.
No longer bouncing on your heels, waving at friends, or pointing excitedly to the sky. Now, you walked like your chest carried weights no one could see.
And at night?
You didn’t sleep.
You just laid there, eyes wide, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, wondering how many stars had died since he said he never loved you.
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Theodore noticed.
Everywhere.
He noticed when you passed by without looking at him.
He noticed the way you no longer tucked that curl behind your ear nervously.
He noticed how your hands never fluttered when you talked—because you didn’t talk.
He noticed how Hermione flanked you in every class like a shield, and how Ron glared daggers at him from across every hallway. How Harry went from silently watching to outright refusing to let Theodore near you.
But the worst part?
Theodore didn’t fight it.
Because what could he say?
I was scared. I panicked. I really do love you now.
It wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
He used to watch you from the other side of the Great Hall, hoping—wishing—you’d look up. That your eyes would find his like they always used to.
But they never did.
Even when the sun poured through the windows and caught your hair in that same golden glow it used to, you looked empty.
He’d broken you.
And you didn’t even hate him for it.
You just… erased him.
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The professors spoke behind closed doors.
Dumbledore watched you closely from his high table. He saw the way your smile never reached your eyes anymore. How you spoke in quiet syllables and barely touched your food.
Flitwick tried to lift your spirits with praise.
Sprout gave you extra cuttings to tend to in case it helped.
Hooch offered to teach you a new Quidditch maneuver—even though you weren’t on the team.
Even Snape, of all people, said your potion was “adequate” one day—because the look on your face when he used to insult your brewing was more alive than the one you wore now.
And McGonagall?
She pulled you aside again.
This time, she didn’t speak.
She just pulled you into a hug.
You didn’t hug her back.
But you didn’t pull away, either.
That was enough for her to cry once you left.
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And then came the first Hogsmeade trip.
You were invited by nearly every Gryffindor in the common room.
Neville asked gently. Dean said they’d buy your favorite sweets. Seamus promised a distraction, a new joke every minute. Hermione packed you a scarf, “just in case it’s cold.”
You said no.
You stayed behind.
Alone in the common room, watching the flames dance like stars falling from the sky. You didn’t need chocolate frogs. Or butterbeer. Or another attempt to feel something you couldn’t anymore.
You just needed to not exist for a little while.
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That night, long after curfew, long after the castle had gone quiet, you slipped out of the portrait hole like a ghost.
No one stopped you.
No one even saw you.
Not even the Fat Lady tried to ask where you were going.
You walked the halls slowly, your feet dragging slightly with every step, like gravity clung heavier to your bones these days. The flickering torches cast shadows on the stone walls, but you barely registered them. Your mind was somewhere else.
Somewhere four months ago.
Somewhere under the stars with his hand in yours.
The staircase to the Astronomy Tower groaned beneath your steps. Each echo bounced back at you, louder than expected, like the castle was trying to say something—Don’t go. Don’t break again.
But you kept climbing.
And then, finally, the door creaked open.
The cold hit you first. Sharp, biting wind brushing through your robes like needles. You shivered. You didn’t bring your scarf. You didn’t care.
You stepped out onto the platform, and the stars were… blinding.
Too many. Too bright.
They looked like glittering lies now.
You used to name them all.
You used to point to the constellations and tug on Theodore’s sleeve, whispering things like, “That one’s Cassiopeia. She was a queen, but vain. Got cursed for her pride.”
Or, “Orion always follows Artemis in the sky, like he’s still chasing her even after death.”
He used to smile at you when you talked like that. Sometimes he’d kiss your temple mid-ramble, just because he could.
You hated how easily you remembered that.
You stared up at the sky now, jaw tight, fists curled into your sleeves.
And then you whispered to no one—
“I don’t want to love you anymore.”
The words caught in the wind. Got carried off into the sky like a secret, like a curse.
But they weren’t true.
Because you did.
Even after everything.
Even now.
Your throat clenched.
And for the first time since that day in the Great Hall—
You cried.
Quiet, trembling sobs that echoed off the tower walls and dissolved into the night air. You sank to the floor, your face in your hands as if begging to the stars to take the ache away.
But they didn’t.
They just watched.
Silent.
Unforgiving.
And utterly, heartbreakingly distant.
