summary : Remus moved away for Uni, you find him again at a boring house party, he walks you home but you both forgot how to act around each other
warnings : mentions of alcohol, smoking, swearing, kissing
word count : 2.9k
heavily inspired by the song Cool About It by Boygenius
"YOU WANNA DITCH?"
Remus shakes out of his daydreaming, pulled back to the real world by your voice. You are standing in front of him, sour expression on your face and arms crossed over your chest. Even though you look annoyed, Remus can't help but let his eyes linger.
"What?" He asks eventually. He thinks he has forgotten what you said.
"This shit is boring and I don't wanna walk home alone," You say.
Remus looks around. You're right. This party is boring. No wonder he has been zoning out for the better part of his time here. He can't even remember what he did since his friends left to hang out with some other friends they made at Uni.
So this time it doesn't take long for him to answer. "Yeah, sure,"
He follows you out of the house of a guy he doesn't know the name of. You look like you know your way around, though, and only look back once to see if he's still following you. He is, close enough to almost touch you if he just reached out.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets.
The air nips at his skin as you two step outside. It's late and December and maybe not the best idea to walk home, but he was here now, with you, and there was no way that he's giving up this chance, only to get back to the warmth he had abandoned.
You slow down a little, he notices. Taking the hint, he takes an extra big step, catching up with you in no time. You look up at him and smile.
It dawns on Remus that the two of you don't know each other well enough anymore to keep the conversation flowing after two minutes of silence. His hands feel empty.
"Y'don't mind, do you?" He asks, pulling out his pack of cigs and a lighter.
He thinks that you may be a little tipsy, because it's taking you longer to answer than normal. When you look up at him, he already has the cigarette placed between his pink lips.
"Nope," you say and eye the cigarette. Remus notices.
"You can't have one, your brother will kill me," He says, bringing the lighter closer and closer to his face. The moment the cigarette catches fire, he feels a little sense of relief washing over him.
"He won't mind," you say, but you both know that you're lying. "Okay, yes, he would mind. But, who cares, he's my bloody brother, not my mum. At least he doesn't tell her anymore when I do stuff,"
"Stuff?" He asks. He never heard you talk about stuff before.
"Stuff," you repeat.
Remus flicks his cigarette and holds it out to you. It almost feels illegal to him, giving you a drag. Like the police could come around the corner any second and arrest him on the spot. When did you grow up? Are four months really that long?
You take a drag. Expertly, he observes. You don't waste any time giving it back to him, which he is glad for. He still doesn't know what to do with his stupid hands.
When he places his lips around the orange end again, he can't help but constantly think about how your lips were wrapped around it only seconds prior. He shakes his head. He feels weird. Sometimes, you still feel fourteen to him. He has to remind himself that you're not, and that even when you were fourteen and he was fifteen, he felt awkward around you.
A good kind of awkward, he used to say. Now he's not certain anymore.
"Where's your jacket?" He asks. He doesn't know why though, he doesn't have a jacket to offer you.
"It's the alcohol," you reply.
Maybe he's a little tipsy too, because it takes him a while to process what you said. It clicks in his brain only a second later. It's the same thing the girls used to say last year when they all got down to the pub on Friday night with their fakes. None of them ever took a jacket from anybody. Except Lily, who stopped being cold on a random day in October of last year, when she finally said yes to James' offer. Since then, her shoulders were always covered by James' red jacket.
He flicks his cigarette. You ask for it again and give it back just ask quickly.
"So," Remus begins, "How's school going for ya?"
You shrug. "Y'know, good," you say. "I'm doing good,"
It wasn't the question he asked. He still saw through the lie though, your eyes giving you away. Once, before, you had your walls built way up. Too high to reach for anyone, even your family. Then, one day in the two weeks that both of you were sixteen, the walls came tumbling down a little. Not all the way, not even close, but just far enough to see your eyes and the bridge of your nose.
"The teachers are being fucking annoying, though," You say, "Always reminding me of A-Levels coming up. Like I don't remember myself every single day,"
Remus chuckles a little. He remembers how shit A-Levels were. He also remembers how much pressure your brother was under this time last year. He can imagine it's the same with you.
"Yeah, but you're gonna do great," Remus says. He doesn't know what else to say.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Trust me, I know. I've got like a sixth sense for this shit,"
You giggle. When the light of the street lights illuminate your face, he can see your flushed cheeks.
The two of you pass the corner shop a second later. Your house is five streets away, his six. He stubs out his cigarette.
"So, yeah, shit's great on my part," you blow out a low breath. "You? How's London treating you?"
The question makes him nervous. He pulls out a second cigarette.
He gives the same answer as you. "Good. Different, but good," He lies too.
Remus moved to London for University about four months ago now. The first few weeks he had expected for it to feel weird, for him to feel out of place. He missed his friends, who, unlike him, all stayed around Liverpool. He missed his parents, his little sister, his room, his footy team.
When he was still homesick after two months, with little to none new friends around him, he had started to think that maybe Uni wasn't for him. Maybe London wasn't for him, even though it was the place he had been dreaming about since the start of secondary school. He was sure that London would be his place, where he would bloom.
Now, four months after the start of Uni, he's not even sure if he wants to go back after the winter holidays.
"You sure?" You test him.
"Of course," he says, but he can see at the way you make a face at him that you don't buy his bullshit. He has never quite been capable of lying to your face, of passing this hard test you give him every once in a while.
"Really." He continued, persistent in making you believe him. "I actually got this job at this fancy restaurant. Gotta wear an all white dress shirt and all that jazz,"
A laugh blows out of your nose. "You? A job in a restaurant?" You look up at him like he's crazy.
"What?" Remus laughs too, cig hanging from the right corner of his mouth, though he's not really sure what you find so funny. "You find it so unbelievable that I found work?"
"No, no," you chuckle, "I just never saw you as a server, y'know, with your grumbling and frowning and all,"
Remus thinks you're crazy. And he wants to say so, but then he kicks childishly at a pebble with a frown plastered on his face, and maybe he can see where you're coming from.
He visibly tries to relax before answering. "Trust me, I didn't peg myself as one either," this is a truth he tells, maybe the first complete one, "But I'm not really a server, just a runner,"
"Ahh," you say. He can see in the way your face twists that that makes more sense to you.
He blows out a cloud of smoke and holds the fag out for you to take. You do. You don't give it back immediately.
Remus doesn't know what to say next. He can't ask you about your school anymore, you've already told him about how your boss was a bloody bitch right when you arrived at the party, before the two of you had lost sight of each other for the rest of the night — well, until now. He racks his brain for a new conversation topic, not wanting to end the walk in silence.
( Even though he could watch you take drags of his cigarette in silence for hours. )
"Did you see James' outfit?" He asks, breaking the silence.
A bark of laughter comes out your mouth, along with the smoke, as you nod your head enthusiastically. "Oh my god, yes. That shit was terrible!"
Remus hums, an amused grin on his face. You give him back the cigarette. The two of you walk into your street, on the sidewalks you used to run after him, your brother and the rest of his friends, hoping to tag along.
"Like, I saw him, and I was like: 'A cowboy hat, James? Really? Did you listen to too much country again?'"
"James thought he looked amazing," Remus grinned.
"That even makes it worse," You shake your head, comically looking over at Remus who was already looking at you.
"Wait, no, no," You start to giggle uncontrollably before even having the chance to share your new thought. "The worst thing is, is that Lily liked it!"
"No way,"
"Yes!"
"Lily liked it? I would've thought she would've thrown it in the fire by now,"
"Na-ah," You say. Remus takes a last drag and stubs the cig out. "She was wearing matching cowboy boots," You squeeze his arm for the dramatics.
For two seconds, Remus doesn't answer.
He shakes out of his pretty quickly. "Okay, now I've lost complete faith in both of them," He chuckles.
"Honestly," you agree. Your house is in view now, a light on the first floor on. "I still don't see how James has a fucking girlfriend and you don't,"
Remus must be more sober than you are, because he seems to grasp the intensity of what you said right as the words leave your mouth.
You think he's worthy enough of having someone love him. Even more worthy than James, who has always had the biggest heart and had been looking ages for someone who could give him back the same love that he deserved, the same love he gifted to everyone else.
You think that Remus is lovable.
Remus doesn't know if his heart is breaking or blooming. It feels the same.
A few seconds later and he sees your face twist into one of horror and realisation from the corner of his eye, finally realising your comment held much more than you initially thought. He's afraid to look you in the eye. You seem afraid too, because for the first time tonight, you let your head hang.
"I'm sorry..." You whisper. Remus thinks that maybe you think that he's offended by your words. Yet, he doesn't know how to feel.
He wishes you hadn't apologised. That you could've been a little cruel about it by just carrying on, but he knew you were too kind for that.
Trying to forget about it, he shakes his head and gives you a small smile. You look sad, maybe a little unsure what to do with yourself. He sees your hand twitch and he wonders if you feel the need for a cigarette, too.
You stop your twitching hand by putting it in the back pocket of your jeans.
Your house is a few steps away and Remus watches how your face falls.
"Shit," You mumble.
"What?" Remus asks.
"My mum is home," You stop in front of your garden, not opening the gate. There's a blue car in the parking spot, one that Remus recognizes to be your mother's. He looks over at you, at how you make no move to enter your home.
"Good luck," he says quietly.
You turn to him. Fully standing in front of each other for the first time this evening. Finally eye to eye. You give him a kind smile, a head tilt, and something Remus does not expect; a hug.
Your hands wrap carefully around his neck, your chin resting against his shoulders since you're standing on your tippy toes. It's the closest the two of you have been in ages, ever since the night when both of you were sixteen and you had hugged him thanks then, too.
Remus does not know what to do with his hands. He's overloaded by his feelings. First, you're closer than ever. Second, you smell like cigarettes and coconut shampoo. Third, he's afraid that when he does puts his hands on you, you'll immediately break the hug.
But you don't step back, and Remus can not just stand there with his hands in the air, so he places them softly against your back. He doesn't try to pull you closer, or hold you tighter, he just holds you gently like you're made out of glass.
"Thank you," you say.
He nods into your hair. "You're welcome," he says. Both of you had started to talk quietly, this close to your house.
You step back, your arms falling back to your sides. "For dropping me off, I mean,"
Remus nods again. "I know,"
Maybe you're both lying now. You both don't point it out.
"When will you go back to London?" You ask as you struggle to get your keys free from the loop of your belt.
"Third of January," He says. It's now the twenty-ninth of December.
You smile. "See you with New Years, then?"
Remus' eyebrows pull together in confusion.
"I heard Mrs Potter is planning that street party again," You help him and gesture to the house at the end of your street, the only one significantly larger than the others. "Peter and I are there,"
"Oh, yeah," Remus says, "Yeah, I'll see if can make it,"
You nod. "Right," You look back to your house. "Or we could just go for a smoke sometime,"
"Yeah," Remus nods.
"Yeah," you say.
Remus thinks that you're stalling. But he can't say that he minds. He would stall with you until the sun comes up, as long as you keep staring at him like that.
"I don't wanna go in just yet," You whisper.
"I know," he whispers back.
Your gaze falls on his lips. Remus notices and tries not to think about what's going on inside your head right now. His own head is busy enough on its own.
Are you really going to kiss him? Are his lips chapped from the cold? Would he kiss you if you didn't? Is he going a little crazy? Has he imagined you two kissing before?
Yes.
The answer is yes.
You place your hands on his cheeks and quickly place your lips against his. So hastily, that Remus had hardly any time to process your face coming towards him. Now all there was his lips on yours, yours on his, your hands on his cheeks, his hands softly coming down on your waist.
Yes, Remus had imagined the two of you kissing before. The first time when he was fifteen, then when he was sixteen, and every year since then. When he was young, he would wonder about dramatic make out sessions, his hands near your butt, your body completely pressed into him. The perfect scenario back then.
But this, the delicacy of the soft touches, your lips not even moving, bodies close but not yet touching, was so, so much better than his young, wild dreams.
He doesn't keep count of how long the two of you stand there, in front of your house, lips interlocked. He's in a trance, a moment of bliss, until you pull away.
Remus opens his eyes to see you staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. As if what you had just done was the worst decision ever. And Remus wanted to tell you that it was fine, that there was nothing to worry about, that he enjoyed himself, but you beat him to it.
"Oh, Remus, I'm so sorry," You say quietly, eyes rimming with unshed tears that had started to well up in a seconds notice.
He doesn't know what's going on in your head, but he can't imagine it's any good.
"Hey, it's cool," Hey says, trying his best to comfort you with his words. "It's cool," he whispers.
You don't look any better. "Uhm," You say, fumbling clumsily with your keys, which are still around the loop of your belt. "I'm gonna go inside now. Thanks for... walking me home,"
"Yeah, of course,"
Remus wants to tell you that he liked the kiss. That you could kiss him again, if you wanted to. But he doesn't know where to start. He doesn't want to make you anymore upset than you already are.
"See you with New Years," you say and open the gate, taking big and fast strides towards your front door while still struggling to free your keys.
Remus doesn't see you enter your home. He's already walking away before you have the chance to look back, a third cigarette in his mouth.
first ever time posting, kinda nervous
english, as you may have noticed, is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!
I am seriously in love with Remus Lupin and with Boygenius so I had to combine them
genre: FLUFFFFF!!! established relationships! slightly suggestive but nothing bad i promise,, mention of reader getting hurt (quidditch :< ) not proofread
wc: 2.4K
originally posted on AO3: 23/07/2022
Theodore didn't miss a beat before landing by my side, casting a charm for the curtains to close behind him. "How are you feeling?" he asks and when I made to answer, Theodore slipped in another question. "How are you doing?"
He seemed to have caught himself, smiling timidly at me when he apologized. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to hear your voice."
I don't think he meant it much because I know full well that if he could, he'd asked me what I'm thinking of and hang on to every word I give him.
And when I laughed tiredly. Theo asks once more, his tone light. "Am I amusing to you?"
Theodore isn't quite as intimidating when you were his girlfriend. I smile when I tell him: "very."
Why were the Ravenclaws so aggressive whenever they played against the Hufflepuff? Theodore didn't care for it then but he surely did now. Now that I was playing for the Hufflepuff against the Ravenclaw.
Theodore stood by the sidelines, watching Blaise cheer way louder than he should've been for a team that wasn't theirs. A part of him was happy that his friend was close enough with me to support me outwardly while the other part of him found it embarrassing that he was associating himself with him.
But he regress, turning back to the quidditch pitch as he watch the game play out.
Theodore understood quidditch to a certain extent (maybe a lot more than he thinks since Draco spend a decent amount of his time droning on and on about quidditch during their second year), he knew that the beater were the one with the bats, the chaser is the position that I play, the seeker is the position that Draco plays and that was all. He thinks.
Now back to his point, why was the Ravenclaw so aggressive towards the Hufflepuff —nay, why was every house so violent towards the Hufflepuff whenever they have a match against them.
Theodore watches on, silently praying that his girlfriend wouldn't get hurt in the field as I raced towards one of the hoops after my teammate passed over the quaffle.
I turn sharply, barely avoiding the other Ravenclaw keeper. My head cocking to the side, testing the keeper just for the fun of it. My arm stretches backwards, quaffle in hand, ready to shoot at any given moment.
And when I finally let go, the quaffle barrels into the loops as if it was born for this. It's a shame that the bludgers were also born for this. Hitting the end of my broom the second I let go of the quaffle.
Theodore could see the look of surprise on my face from a mile away. Then came the helpless realization that I would be landing on the floor in a matter of seconds, only hoping that someone would save me before I fall to my demise.
The panic sets in first. Then Theodore was on his feet. He can't recall how many second has passed since I'd fallen but can recall himself reaching down the stairs and into the pitch. Blaise was following him. So was Draco. So was Pansy, he thinks. He thinks Pansy cared about him and his girlfriend enough to have the decency to be distressed.
He thinks and thinks and thinks. And silently panics, not knowing what's to come when he comes face to face with me. Finding me out cold. He felt himself being pushed aside. Madam Promfrey rushing over. He didn't argue. Watching her work as he prays that I get to live another day.
•••
I don't remember much. I don't know what happened fully but I do know that we won. And somewhere along that process, I got my ass knocked off of my broom by an aggressive bludger.
That's quidditch for you, I guess.
A chorus of voices is the first thing I hear when I woke. They were talking or arguing –I can't really tell. I'm too doped up and groggy to fully take in my surroundings.
They were talking about something (or maybe someone). Me, I think. I think I'm their topic of conversation but that would be narcissistic for me to assume. Although, my thoughts were proven correct when Malfoy brought attention to my now conscious self listening into their words.
Theodore didn't miss a beat before landing by my side, casting a charm for the curtains to close behind him. "How are you feeling?" he asks and when I made to answer, Theodore slipped in another question. "How are you doing?"
He seemed to have caught himself, smiling timidly at me when he apologized. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to hear your voice."
I don't think he meant it much because I know full well that if he could, he'd asked me what I'm thinking of and hang on to every word I give him.
And when I laughed tiredly. Theo asks once more, his tone light. "Am I amusing to you?"
Theodore isn't quite as intimidating when you were his girlfriend. I smile when I tell him: "very."
He didn't make to reply, checking every inch of my face for any injury that Madam Promfrey might've missed. His hair a moving mop of fluff above his head when his head shifted too quickly.
I prop myself on my elbows, reaching out to touch it. "You grew out your hair."
Theodore tilted his head, easing the stretch of my arms. "I didn't mean to," he says first, leaning into my hand when they brush against the side of his cheek. "I'll cut it soon."
"Don't," I tell him, Theodore sits himself on the empty side of my bed, his own hand reaching up to cradle mine. "It looks good on you."
The look on his face turns unreadable, eyes shifting away from me. "I was so worried."
"I'm sorry," I say, sitting up properly in my bed. "Did my team win at least?"
A breathy laugh falls from his lips. "Yes." Gaze turning back to me. "They did."
"That's good," I murmured, trying to savor every second of this moment. "Did you cheer for us?"
"No," he answers honestly. "I was too preoccupied with thinking that you were dying." And then, "sorry," he smiles so softly that my heart aches at the sight of it. "Will you ever forgive me?"
"I think I can forgive you for that." Theodore smile never falter, face turning in my hand, his lips pressing a kiss against my palm.
"That's good," he says, he says knowing that I would always forgive him no matter what. "I can't even begin to fathom what I'd do if you didn't forgive me."
"It's a good thing I forgive you then."
He nods. "Really good," his voice barely above a whisper. When my eyes grow tired, barely able to keep myself awake for long seeing as my body was still recovering. "I think it's time for you to rest." He drops our hands, linking them together. And softly, he asks, "is there anything you need?"
I could feel a smile pricking at the corners of my lips. "A kiss?"
Theodore hesitates, every part of him growing shy. "A kiss?" A year spent together and he still is hesitant about a kiss. I nod. "A kiss is all you need?"
"Yes."
Theodore releases my hand, his own reaching out to cup my face. Palm pressed flat against my skin, his thumb making quick work at caressing my cheek while the rest of fingers cupped my jaw. "A kiss it is."
He leans forward, just enough for his lips to comfortably press against mine. The kiss soft and tender, slowly easing me into him when I made to kiss him back, Theodore pulls away.
"A kiss," he says, as if he was reminding me that that was all I'd asked of him. "Now rest, I will give you millions more when you're well."
"I'm quite well," I tell him tiredly, fighting sleep under the warmth of his hand holding my face. "Where's my millions more?"
"Where ever you want them to be." He presses a kiss on my forehead. "I will give them to you. But not now." Not now when I felt so terribly enervated.
"I'll be back in the morning." He tells me finally.
Sleep takes over the minute Theodore slips away from me, his hand away from my face, his voice far from my ear, his presence that I could no longer sense. Succumbing to sleep wasn't hard, it was no where near hard for I knew that when I woke the next morning, I will once again be basking in everything him alike. And I can truly rest with that.
•••
Theodore exudes a kind of comfort that I can't categorize. But if I'm being honest, I don't even know where to start when it came him.
He was tall, quiet, smart, that much was true. The other parts that people didn't mention as much was how handsome he was, how soothing his voice sounds despite the rare usage of it and when he does use it, the way he words his sentences can charm anyone into giving him what he wanted.
The door unlocks before the two of us, the boy's Slytherin dorm now my third (because my own dorm is my second) home. The room was empty, saving for the mess scattered round as proof that five teenage boys were living in that very dorm.
We step through, Theodore locking the door behind us, and dropped our book bags. I head for the bathroom's sink, wanting nothing other than a nice cold splash of water against my face.
When I returned, Theo hands me a pair of soft cotton plaid pants and one of his old oversized shirts. I think our next actions stems from the fact that we've long grown used to one another.
Silently slipping off our clothes with no embarrassment, no outwards reaction, nothing but small smiles when we catch the other staring at us. I slipped on my pants shortly after Theodore finished changing, him walking forward so that we stood face to face.
Theo took the shirt he'd given me from where I'd last placed it, helping me into it with soft eyes. The bottom hem of the shirt falls around my waist, not having yet adjusted it when he took my lips in his.
This is the millions more kisses he owes me, I think.
He pulls away, hands hanging around the exposed skin between the shirt and my cotton pants. "Are you sure you're okay, baby?" He asks for the hundredth time, the only different being the pet name that he uses now. And when I told him that I was, he asks: "Shall we take a nap?"
I'm okay. But I will like to take that nap. I tell him and he nods, tugging me with him towards his bed. Theodore shuts the four posters, cloaking us in with green silk. From where I laid on his bed, I could hear the lake water lapping against the window, brushing by the glass pane with each movement it made.
Theodore laid besides me, turning at an angle which he could see me clearly. "You owe five sickles."
"For what?"
"Parkinson and Draco."
"You're kidding," I said first, and when all he did was smile at me, his hand coming to lay on the dip of my waist. "Surely not."
He squeezes the flesh of my waist. Surely yes.
"It's barely been a month," I said, finally accepting my faith. "How could they already break it off? There was so much tension between them."
"That's your fault for reading between the lines," he teases. "I told you it was only a fling and you didn't want to believe me. Now look who's five sickles richer."
As if he won't spend that five sickles on me. "I'll pay you tomorrow then?" I ask him, feeling his other hand that wasn’t resting on my waist reach for my own. "Will that be okay with you?"
" 'course," he says. "All is well when it comes to you." And then, "Are you sure you're feeling well enough for class tomorrow? We can skip if you aren't."
"I'm fine," I tell him, squeezing our now linked hands, trying to reassure him as much as I could. "Plus, I'm failing potions. I don't think my grades can handle any more of me missing classes."
Theo frowns. "You are?" He asks, playing with the hem of my —his— shirt. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Because, it's nothing. And I didn't want to bother you," I tell him. "I know you're busy with your studies, I didn't want to be a burden on top of that."
His hand falters, turning to a halt. Dark eyes narrowing, searching and assessing, trying and trying to see if I was being serious. And when there was no indication that I was anything but, he says: "never in a million lifetimes could you ever be a burden."
"If you ever need help with anything, say it," he tells me. "Say it and I’ll be there. My time is yours. I'm yours and I will move mountains to give you anything you could ever want."
Sappy. This is so incredibly sappy. But I still smile nonetheless, I still kiss him until I feel breathless. I still store every single sentence, word, syllable, letter in a special box in my head that is uniquely made up off of Theodore.
Theodore who can't seem to treat me like the other boys have treated me. Theodore who goes over the top with everything he does when he wants me to feel cared by him. Theodore who would never make me feel anything less than beautiful.
Theo props himself up on one elbow, leaning over me with his lips pressing against mine, his other hand slipping beneath my shirt and laying flat against my tummy. His lips drags down peppering kisses from my jawline and down to my neck.
When my legs press against him, wanting more and more of what he could give me, he pulls back, leaving the scent of him in his wake.
"I know we're young," he begins. "But I wish more than anything to be your husband, I want to give you everything that I have. I have no intention in doing anything else, my love."
Theodore paused, as if he was letting me know that if I didn't want him as much as he wanted me, he will let me go just to make me happy. And then, softly he says, "I hope you feel as irrevocably in love with me as I do you."
—from bee: happy valentines days everyone!! i hope you’re spending it with you loved ones!!
Synopsis: The stress from studying for your NEWT level classes has you spiraling into confusion from burnout, and perhaps, simultaneously inspiring a certain slytherin to approach you. But it was all a coincidence, right?
Pairing: Theodore Nott x Gryffindor!Reader
Notes: Cursing, Affection (oh my goodness). I love Theo. Like my mind is constantly just <3 Theo <3.
The gloom that permeated through the air was unusually suffocating. The grey clouds that scattered across the almost equally dull sky left little room for enthusiasm to float about. Many students were beginning to fall into the pattern of procrastinating on their essays, the notorious wave of burnout that swept through the student body every year was at its most unforgiving.
This year seemed almost worse than last year’s and you were sure it has already done a number on you. Hermione, ever the scholar, was amongst the very few who were managing fairly well for the most part. Your frizzy-haired friend was currently sitting across from you in the library, face buried in a book as she mumbled quietly, albeit furiously, about Harry’s sudden overwhelming success in Potions.
You yourself were quite impressed at Harry’s new penchant for the subject and you weren’t sure if his newfound success had anything to do with having a Potions professor who didn’t seem to loathe his existence or if he was suddenly gifted by mother magic with a potions mastery.
NEWT level classes were definitely proving to be a challenge for you, and your head was pounding from trying to make sense of the Runes assignment in front of you. You weren’t Hermione by any means, but you would consider yourself to be another top student in your year, having a particular talent for Transfiguration.
“‘Mione, maybe Harry just studied a little bit extra or something. Besides, it’s a great thing that he’s thriving, especially in potions. Merlin knows this spurn of success was needed given his previous record.”
The girl’s head shoots up at your words, eyebrows drawn in frustration, “But Y/N, it just doesn’t make any sense! I followed the instructions exactly! Harry said he did as well, so why are all of my potions off?”
Ah, ever the perfectionist.
As she continued her tangent, her voice began to slowly rise in volume before her last words were bouncing around the bookshelves and causing other students to turn towards you.
“Mione, please speak a little lower! And it doesn’t matter, you’re still the top student in a lot of the other classes anyway. Besides, Slughorn is still impressed with your work regardless, that Slug Club invitation is proof of it.” Your hushed whispers seemed to quell her and she nodded along, seeming to accept your encouragement. As if suddenly feeling the burning gazes being shot at the two of you, she quickly turned and apologized silently to everyone she disturbed.
As she turned back to the book in front of her, you slowly looked around to rest your eyes. As your gaze flitted to the table next to yours, your eyes widened as you made eye contact with a familiar slytherin.
Of course, it just happened to be him of all people.
Theodore Nott happened to be one of the very few students in your year who could match Hermione’s academic prowess. You remembered starkly him beating out Draco and Hermione in Charms and Runes last year, shocking your friend group immensely– Hermione most of all. He was often seen walking with Draco and Daphne Greengrass, but he kept to himself for the most part. Despite his quieter disposition, you heard his name whispered often by girls who were longing to gain his attention and affection.
And from the way he carried himself, it was obvious that Theodore Nott was an impressive wizard.
He also just so happened to be staring at you at the current moment, no doubt having been disturbed by Hermione moments earlier.
Slapping on an apologetic smile, you nod to him before turning back to your Runes assignment.
Nope. Not awkward at all.
Your heart was beating furiously in your chest and you were beginning to fear that its quickened pace would either cause you to pass out or be loud enough for him to hear. You had never really talked to the boy, only being able to recall moments of fleeting nods and awkward eye contact between the two of you.
Of course, that didn’t stop you from admiring his talents and his admittedly, above-average looks. You also appreciated his tendency to ignore people rather than berate and bully them like other slytherins in your year.
You were sure that he at least knew of you, if not due to your involvement in Harry’s circle, then due to your consistent residency at the top of the academic hierarchy.
And a little part of you did hope that he took notice of you, not that you’d ever admit it aloud.
–
The bags under your eyes could probably carry the weight of the troll you accidentally concussed in your first year, the unforgiving curriculum chipping away at the amount of rest you got every night.
The library was unusually empty that evening, allowing you to peacefully sigh and slam your head into your books without looking like a complete maniac. Moving your head from side to side to try and relieve the tension in your neck, you move to slap your hands over your cheeks.
After you were done waking yourself up, you drew your eyebrows together and began to tackle the large chunks of small text.
‘Often mistaken for each other, the words ehwaz and eihwaz have different meanings, partnership and defense, respectively.’
You were definitely not making much progress with your Ancient Runes work, and you were growing increasingly anxious about the upcoming exam as you could slowly feel yourself slipping in the class.
Feeling a prickle on your forehead, you shoot your gaze upwards and suppress a startled gasp as you lock eyes with an amused Theodore.
When did he get here? Wait, did you get here after him? If so, how did you not notice him until now?
Perhaps, your sleep deprivation was beginning to interfere with how you function. Your lapses in memory were concerning enough for you to think of reining in your hours of daily study. As you slowly close the textbook in front of you, you watch as Theodore’s eyes dart to observe your sluggish movements.
Clearly taking pity on your hunched form, he observes you for a few more moments before sliding over a sheet of parchment. Feeling your fingers twitch in suspicion, you carefully eye him before deciding that he wouldn’t try to blow you up or anything to that degree.
As you read through the paper, you feel your mouth part in shock as you realize that it was an organized chart of notes on the words you were struggling with. Theodore Nott had just given you his notes like it was the most casual thing in the world–and they were his nice notes too.
Feeling a smile pull at your lips, you shoot your head up to thank the boy, only to find the chair across from you vacant. Looking around your table, you’re only met with endless rows of bookshelves. You were left to your lonesome again, the paper in your hand being the only assurance that you hadn’t hallucinated your interaction with the quiet slytherin.
Quickly packing up your notes and books, you carefully slide Theodore’s notes into your folder as you exit the library, parting with a quick farewell to Madam Pince.
Briskly walking back to the Gryffindor common room, you shake off the strange interaction in favor of contemplating what a disaster your next Potions lesson is going to be. It was pretty formulaic by now with Harry finishing flawlessly, Hermione wandering out of the class with a lost look, Ron flying by the seat of his pants, and your constant thoughts of giving up and laying your head down.
Potions had transformed from a tense, strict environment to one of the most entertaining in a matter of just a single year. You respected Snape’s intellect and proclivity in Potions, but his prejudices diminished any inkling of passion you had for the subject.
–
You were correct in your assumption that the class would go exactly how it always went. Currently, Ron’s cauldron was smoking up a cloud that put Seamus’ usual catastrophes to shame. As you ran your finger along the list of directions for the umpteenth time, you realized that you were missing a stem of Baneberries.
How you missed it, you could only ponder at another time. You were bustling about frantically, running on a couple hours of sleep, and feeling beside yourself.
Eyeing your cauldron, you estimated that you could probably run to the storage closet and nick the stem quickly without causing too much havoc by leaving it unattended. Moving from around your table, you quickly weaved around frustrated Gryffindors and confused Slytherins and towards the high shelves of glass jars in the back of the room.
You were getting dizzy from scanning the identical towers of jars, all the labels suddenly merging together.
Baneberries would be near the top since all the ingredients were sorted alphabetically. Looking around for the ladder, you jump out of your skin as you nearly bump into a sturdy figure behind you.
Holding your chest from the scare, you peer at the person only to be met with a familiar pair of amused eyes.
Sucking in a short breath at your luck, you shoot a sheepish smile at the boy, “Nott. Hello. I didn’t notice you there. Sorry, I’m in a bit of a rush, I forgot one of my ingredients.”
Theodore raises an eyebrow at you before partially sidestepping you, reaching up towards a shelf behind you. You gaped as you realized he was crowding you against him and the shelf, unable to wiggle around the small gap he left.
Just as quickly as the awkward moment began, it ended, and Theodore was backing up and gingerly pushing a small stem of red and white berry clusters towards you.
Eyes widening in shock, you carefully grab the thin stem, accidentally pinching his cold fingers in the process, “Oh, shoot. I’m sorry. Er…but thank you, Nott. I should really go though, I think my cauldron might explode if I delay any further.”
Practically bouncing on the spot, you don’t wait to hear his response before you’re maneuvering around his figure and scurrying back to your table. Luckily, your potion was still boiling away and even looked salvageable.
“It’s perfect! That bright pink is spot on, very good Harry, my boy.” Slughorn’s jubilant voice carries around the classroom and you could see many students suppressing their groans at Harry finishing first and flawlessly, once again.
You purse your lips to contain your laughter as you see Hermione look more than mildly distressed before schooling her expression, shooting a small congratulatory smile at Harry.
What a proper mess.
Snorting quietly, you remove the stem from your berries and slowly add a few at a time, stirring the concoction three times counterclockwise. Unlike Harry’s tart pink potion, yours begins to melt into a magenta color, and you have half the mind to step back just as it gives a little rumble, a small puff of smoke shrouding over the circumference of the cauldron.
Safe to say, that is not what’s meant to happen.
Unsure whether to mourn your failed potion (once again) or not take it too seriously, you opt to just do both, and drop your chin into your hands, laughing dryly at your fate.
Quickly cleaning up around your work station, you risk a glance across the room and make eye contact with Theodore who looks vaguely entertained at your failed potion.
Later, Harry’s bottled potion is being presented by Slughorn at the front of the class, everybody gathering around in a semi-circle to see the result. As you shuffle from leg to leg, you feel a firm chest press lightly against your back. Before you could spin around on your heel, you sense their head moving towards your ear.
“You forgot to turn down your flame and add the stem of your Angel’s Trumpet.” Theodore’s whisper sends shivers down your spine and you have to cross your arms in order to stop yourself from physically reacting.
Turning your head slightly towards his face, you huff out in exasperation, “I’m not surprised, I was pretty much running around like a headless hippogriff.”
You wryly smile, becoming accustomed to classroom failures. Luckily, it seemed that the wave of burnout was finally letting up for a few weeks before your NEWTS, so you could catch up on sleep beforehand.
A breathy laugh leaves Theodore’s lips imperceptibly and you have to fight back the pleased grin threatening to pull at your face.
Soon, Slughorn was dismissing class and you were all free to head to the dining hall for lunch. Spinning to head back to grab your book bag, you shoot a small smile at Theodore, “Nice chat, Nott. Thanks again.”
Before you’re able to brush past him, he mutters a simple correction to you, “Theo.”
“Theo. See you around.”
–
Your little exchange in potions doesn’t go unnoticed and before you could even stack up some potatoes on your plate, Hermione is dropping herself down next to you with a curious glint shining in her eyes.
Raising an eyebrow at her enthused expression, you’re unsure if you’re walking into a trap as you respond, “What’s up, ‘Mione?”
Hermione leans a little towards you before quietly whispering to you as if she was sharing a heartfelt secret, “You know what. I saw you and Nott during Potions.”
Craning your head back to look at her, you suppress the groan itching at your throat as you realize she had her mind set on getting information out of you.
“It’s nothing of that sort, ‘Mione. He was just giving me tips on my brew is all, apparently I forgot a key ingredient. I’m a proper mess and it seems to be catching the attention of other houses.” You breathe out quietly, beginning to push your food around on your plate.
Hermione grins like she knows something you don’t and replies with finality before scooping food onto her plate, “Well, he’s seated rather far away from us, don’t you agree? I wonder how he knew what you did wrong.”
Her words have you pausing as you straighten up in your seat, shooting your wide eyes to her satisfied face.
Sweet Merlin, she wasn’t called the brightest witch of your age for a half-hearted reason. In a way, you wanted to smack yourself for not realizing sooner despite how glaringly obvious it seems in hindsight.
How did he know what you did wrong?
–
It’s been a week since your potion incident with Theo, and you’ve been actively avoiding looking in his direction since that day. You absolutely would not focus on the boy, you couldn’t afford a crush, especially not one on one of the most eligible bachelors of your year.
Plus, a crush would be detrimental to your grades, and you had barely just recovered from your chronic sleep deprivation.
Unfortunately, your active avoidance of the boy only made him drift through your head more often. You even caught yourself writing his name mid-sentence while you were doing your Transfiguration essay.
At the current moment, you were sitting with your friends in the common room, listening to Harry rant about Draco, once again. It was entertaining, but you could feel Hermione shooting small glances at you from time to time, still remembering your incident with Theodore.
Crossing your arms, you finally speak up as Harry stops to catch his breath, “Harry, are you sure you’re not just interested in Malfoy? No one pays this much attention to someone without having a crush on them, I mean seriously, how do you even know how Draco likes his apples?”
Harry gapes at your words, fishing around for a logical rebuttal, but you can see how his eyes widen in realization. Ron seems plenty amused by Harry’s flailing and leans back like a satisfied wingman, even though you were the one who did all the mental gymnastics for Harry.
Hermione raises her eyebrows at your words, turning to face you before echoing your words quietly, “Yeah, no one pays that much attention to someone without it involving a crush.”
Shaking your head, you dismiss her insinuation, “It was one lesson, ‘Mione. I doubt he’s looking to court me or anything.”
Your words grab Harry and Ron’s attention and they suddenly lean over to you for an explanation. Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you successfully harden your resolve despite their puppy eyes.
Realizing that you were going to remain tight-lipped, Hermione decides to enlighten them, “A certain slytherin has taken interest in Y/N.”
“Oh please ‘Mione, I’m telling you that he’s just really observant and really good at potions.” Your last words catch a little in your throat.
Hermione grins like cheshire cat, having successfully roped you in, “Sure, and him giving you his nice notes was just a casual ordeal as well.”
Ron and Harry swing their heads back and forth between the two of you, eyes brimming with anticipation.
Ron seems to have reached the end of his patience and grabs hold of your forearms, shaking you playfully before exclaiming, “Well don’t just keep fighting, tell us who!”
Huffing in defeat, you dart your attention to the fireplace as you satiate their curiosity, “Theodore Nott.”
Harry falls back on the floor and releases a noise of surprise while Ron’s hands rip away from your arms and fly to his face.
“What? Is it that surprising?” Honestly, you were mildly insulted.
Harry is the first to speak, shaking his head reassuringly, “No, no, it’s just, you’re not considering it are you?”
Tilting your head, you’re quick to reply, “What do you mean? I mean I don’t consider it as a possibility, but what’s so wrong with Theo?”
Ron gapes in shock, “Theo?”
Hermione looks at the both of them sternly before turning to you, “I think what they’re trying to say is, Theodore might be bad news. I haven’t the faintest clue why they’d feel that way though.”
Shaking your head firmly, you shoot down their apprehension, “No way, he’s probably the most tame out of that friend group.”
The boys don’t look convinced, but Harry concedes with a quiet, “If you’re sure.”
Tired of the conversation, you stand up from the sofa and stretch your arms above your head, “Enough about me, it’s about time for dinner. Let’s head to the dining hall and talk about Harry’s crush on Draco.”
“It’s not a crush!”
—
It’s the very next morning after your conversation in the common room when something bizarre happens to you again. You had successfully evaded Theodore for a little over a week, and sometimes you could feel a pointed stare aimed at you.
As you’re pouring orange juice for yourself during breakfast, a letter drops in front of your plate as everyone gets their post. Confused by the envelope, you cast a charm to make sure it hasn’t been tampered with before picking it up.
There wasn’t a sender address on the envelope, but as you neatly tear it open and unfold the paper inside, you realize that you knew exactly who it was from.
The words were neatly written on the paper, and even without the letter’s content, you already recognized the penmanship.
Meet me after dinner tonight? Astronomy Tower.
Don’t worry, you’ll be back before curfew.
P.S. Do you need my notes again?
Unable to stop yourself, your head shoots up and towards the direction of Draco’s friend group. Immediately, your eyes lock with Theodore’s and he sends you a small smile, tilting his head subtly to ask for your answer.
Slowly nodding, you feel warmth flood your face as he breaks into a pleased grin and his eyes twinkle in victory. His expression catches the attention of his friends as they all immediately stop their conversation and follow Theodore’s gaze.
Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your face as you’re suddenly under the scrutiny of the slytherin circle. Surprisingly, Draco doesn’t jeer at you but rather smirks at you ominously, but surprisingly not with malice. Blaise and Pansy look back at Theodore and whisper furiously, their words seemingly so obscene that it tears Theo’s gaze from you and to his smiling friends.
You weren’t sure if you should be worried. Swallowing down your nervousness, you carefully fold the letter back up and tuck it away into your book bag, keeping your head down for the rest of the meal.
–
Your day seems to pass by in a blur, and soon enough you’re rising out of your seat during dinner, eyes trailing to glance at Theo, whose attention darts to your rising form.
Harry raises his head to look at you in confusion, “You’re done eating already?”
Nodding quickly, you plaster on a reassuring smile to settle your nerves, “Yeah, I’m just going to go take a walk. I’ll meet you guys in the common room before curfew.”
Your friends bid you farewell and you pace out of the hall, seeing Theodore push his plate back out of the corner of your eye. Not ready to face him quite yet, you pick up the pace as you head towards the Astronomy Tower, head filled with racing thoughts.
As you enter the top tier of the tower, you walk towards the ledge to look at the sky, deciding to just leave the door open for Theo.
A few minutes pass before you hear footsteps approaching you, your shoulders tensing in anticipation.
Theodore slowly makes his way to stand next to you, resting one arm on the stone ledge and maneuvering his body to face you. Unable to face him just yet, you opt to break the silence first, “So, why did you want to meet with me?”
“I thought you would have figured it out by now. After all, you’re quite brilliant.” Amusement colors his tone, and you were sure he was smiling at you right now.
Feeling your brain lag at the sudden compliment, you turn your head and survey him with questioning eyes before finding your voice, “It’s not like you to do all this.”
His lips tug a little at your attention, “Like what?”
Turning your body to face him fully, you’re keenly aware of the warmth emanating from his body, “Like approaching people you’re unfamiliar with and giving them your notes. Asking them to meet up with you at night. Helping them with their potions. You’re not possessed are you?”
Theodore’s nose wrinkles in amusement as his smile seems to grow impossibly wider, “So you watch me too. But no, I’m not possessed. I think we both know what the deal is though.”
Dropping your shoulders as your nerves seem to turn to jelly, you release a shaky sigh, “Then, you like me too?”
Your eyes flit across his face quickly, watching his eyes widen slowly. Smiling at you in fondness, he carefully brings up his hand to cup your face, his cool rings soothing your burning cheek.
His thumb slowly brushes across your cheek and he steps closer to your figure, leaning to close the distance between your faces, but leaving just enough room to have you wanting more.
His gaze flickers between your lips and eyes, finally breaking through the silence that settled between the two of you, “Yes, I like you too. Have for a while.”
You can’t fight your smile, and Theodore seems to be unable to wait any longer, ducking his head further towards yours, “Tell me to stop if you’re not ready.”
Laughing breathlessly at his words, you bring your hands to rest behind his neck, tugging him closer to close the faint gap between your bodies, “Not a chance in hell.”
Theodore brings a hand to wrap around your body, quickly connecting your lips. His firm grip on you has you melting against him, and you’re sure that the world completely stopped in that moment, nerves running like fireworks in your body.
You both break apart for air, donning identical grins of bliss. Unwilling to let you stray too far, Theodore doesn’t loosen his hold and opts to softly nuzzle his nose against yours, occasionally planting kisses on your cheeks.
Rubbing circles on the back of his neck, you softly laugh as you suddenly remember something, “Hermione was actually the one who helped me realize that you liked me.”
Humming at your words, Theo only pauses briefly from kissing your face to answer, “Remind me to thank her.”
Smiling softly at his clinginess, you pull your head back to get a good look at him, “Didn’t realize you were the affectionate type.”
His eyes are hazy from bliss, and he cranes his head forward to try and bring you back to him before answering, “Hm, well the last week has been rough with you avoiding me. ‘M making up for it.”
Your laugh echoes around the room, urging Theodore to lean over to nip at your ear, “What’s so funny?”
Carding your fingers through his soft lock, you have a fleeting thought about curfew before you brush it aside to answer him, “Nothing much. Just didn’t think you would get pouty about it.”
Reeling back at your words, his mouth parts in playful shock, “I don’t pout, baby.”
“That’s good since we should get going before the prefects head out.” Your words are met with a loud groan and Theodore does the exact opposite of your suggestion, deciding to instead bury his face in your neck and cling onto you.
–
“Oh bugger off! He was being the biggest baby of the century all week long, ‘I don’t pout’, my arse.” Draco’s crude words have you dropping your mouth into your hands to muffle your laughter as Theo was left to gape at his friend’s words.
Pansy nods in agreement and grabs your free hand like a relieved mother, “Trust me, I don’t know what you see in him, but I’m so glad you’re here now.”
You beam brightly at the girl, coming to realize that your previous anxiety about meeting Theo’s friends was just a waste of energy–they were nothing like your presumptions.
“Happy to be here. I was honestly driving myself mad all week trying to avoid Theo.” You don’t miss the wounded look the boy throws at you as he begins to tug on your elbow to try and drag you away from his friends.
“Theo? I remember when I tried to call him that once in third year and he nearly incinerated me.” Blaise raises his eyebrows teasingly at your deflated boyfriend, unable to resist poking fun at his usually stoic friend.
Huffing a small laugh, you interlace your fingers with Theo’s before stepping back, “Dating privileges, Zabini. Now, it was nice talking with you guys, but Theo might die from embarrassment if we linger around.”
You barely manage to say your farewells to the group, before Theo is steering you away by your shoulders, muttering up a storm about his friends.
“Don’t be lax just yet, dear. You still have to talk with my friends, remember?” Your reminder has the boy straightening his posture, evidently unsure with how to approach making conversation with your capricious group.
“They’ll like me, right?” You nearly melt into a puddle at his words.
“Hermione? Yes. Harry? Maybe. Ron? Not a chance. But I like you, and that’s all that matters. Besides, Ron is too scared to incur Hermione’s wrath to threaten you, so he won’t try to hex you or anything.” Patting his chest reassuringly, you begin to drag him through the castle, set on finding your friends.
Smiling to yourself, you were sure that your sudden relationship with the slytherin would encourage your friends to confront their own crushes.
“Oh, I think I see them! Theo, you can’t get out of this with your puppy eyes, now come on!”
I can just imagine James and Peter standing by Remus' bed the morning after the prank waiting for him to wake so that they can cause the most dramas of dramas.
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