#theo nott

[storiesofmyhead]

Can someone please request an X Reader! I’m in a writing block😭

Any of these fandoms

- Twilight!!

- ATLA

- Harry Potter

The Hunger Games!!

[theosbabydollx]

Still Him

The room is silent, broken only by your steady breathing. You’re lying back on your bed, illuminated only by the light of the lamp on your nightstand. One hand slides slowly over your chest while your mind returns, uninvited, to a memory that’s far too recent.

Theo muttered as he left a path of kisses all over your neck and quickened the rhythm of his fingers on your clitoris. You can’t help but let out a groan as you press the grip on her hair. "Theo please, I need you." A smile appears on his face as he looks up to look you in the eye and tempts you by moving a finger slowly through your soaked entrance. “Oh yeah? Should give you what you want, or should I make you suffer a little more, princess?" With despair you kiss him and immediately Theo slides two fingers inside you, making a groan of pleasure leave your mouth, ending the kiss.

It had only been a few weeks since you’d last been with Theo, yet the memory had settled deep beneath your skin, refusing to dull with time. You can´t stop thinking about the last time you were with him, just a few weeks ago. About how words weren’t necessary. About the exact way he touched you, as if he knew every reaction before it happened.

You close your eyes and your hand drifts lower, moving over yourself carefully, following that precise memory your body hasn’t forgotten, until you reach your sweet spot.

A soft moan slips past your lips at the thought of him; of his hands, his presence, the way he made you feel completely undone. The sound surprises you, hanging in the quiet room as your body reacts before your mind can stop it.

You move slowly, guided more by the memory than by the moment. By Theo. By what it was. By what still lingers. Your hand slips beneath your underwear, and you can feel how wet remembering Theo’s touch makes you.

For a moment, you swear you can almost feel him there. The weight of his attention, the heat of his closeness, the way he always knew when you were about to lose control. Your breath grows shallow, uneven, and the quiet room fills with the sound of it, with you.

Your phone vibrates, and you stop.

Mattheo <3

You sigh before answering. It’s Mattheo, your husband. His voice sounds tired but happy. He tells you he’s just landed, that he’s on his way home, that he can’t wait to see you. “Can’t wait to see ya, princess, I love you.” You respond with learned affection, automatic. You hang up.

Silence fills the room again.

You stare at the ceiling for a few seconds. Then, almost without thinking, your hand returns to your intimacy, resuming the slow, deliberate movement. Theo’s face flashes behind your closed eyes.

You don’t think about your husband’s arrival. That’s the least important thing right now, isn’t it? You’d rather take your mind back to the memory of his best friend by making you feel the sky and about how, even now, with a ring on your finger, he still holds that power over you.

And when your orgasm finally hits you, Mattheo’s name isn’t the one that leaves your lips; it’s Theo who occupies your mind until the very last second.

[honeybee-berks]

I think this is kinda stupid, but enjoy this somno blurb about Theo Nott ig. not proofread. mdni <3

The smell of Theos cologne has you stirring in your sleep.

"shhh doll. it's just me. I'm here." he says as he settles in bed behind you.

The two of you had been honeymooning for what felt like days, but was more accurately, about three weeks. Spending as much time as you could in each other's gravity.

The sun was rising. Streaming in from the window across from the large bed, the window that overlooked the river and the intertwined roots of the mangroves below.

The planes of his body pressed into your back, his entire body wrapping around yours when he lays back down next to you.

"where'd you go" sleepily slips from your lips. You could feel sleep overtaking you once more, but it was the sentiment of asking, you supposed.

"Shh. Go back to sleep. You're tired, love." he presses harder into you, if he could he would mold your naked bodies into one.

"mhm" you sigh, "love ya."

"I love you too Babygirl." he whispers against your ear. Rocking softly against you as his morning wood returns with a burning vengeance. "So pretty when you're asleep."

turning your head softly into his warm shoulder, you feel his blunt tip lining up with your weeping hole. not giving it enough attention in your sleepy state, you relax into his body. allowing him to push himself into you, before stalling and allowing you to drift softly into sleep.

He gently spreads your legs, hooking one of your knees over his so youre spread for him, before he slowly fucks into your sleeping body. Careful not to wake you as he has his way with your form.

his hips meet yours softly. the sounds resonating in the house he had bought for the two of you to honeymoon in. his hands warm your body as he caresses you, and when he hears your dreamlike moans, he speeds up slightly.

"mh-theo." you moan and he stalls as he waits for your breath to even out once more.

"How is it" he thrusts in "that you are still so" out "wet even when asleep?" in "My daydream."

[itsgretta]

There's things I wanna talk about But better not to give But if you hold me without hurting me You'll be the first who ever did (Lana Del Rey - Cinammon Girl)

wordcount: 2.8k pairing: theodore nott x f!you warnings: post-war, slightly toxic theo, mentions of ptsd, angst, jealousy, yearning, hurt/comfort, swearing. author's note: i hope this is good, because it was really hard for me to write all these emotions. Masterlist

Theodore loved his friends immensely. They had helped him stay afloat during the darkest times of his childhood: his father’s morals drilling into his brain about blood purity, the right things which, in fact, were anything but, and all the other crap any Death Eater father would instill in his cherished son. A model childhood for a future follower, except Theodore’s future had taken a different route.

He loved Draco for his understanding, born from the similar story they shared. Perfect son, father’s pride. Hmph. The path of redemption had welcomed them both, and Theo was grateful for someone who could guide him when the thorns grew too sharp and the doubts crept in. Hard to get along with someone who mirrors your own flaws, but their friendship defied that rule.

He loved Blaise for a sense of humour and the invincible optimism even with Death breathing down their necks. When the prospects of seeing the sun again were as blurry as Theodore’s tear-filled eyes, Zabini had another silly joke about house-elf meeting Voldemort in a bar. They laughed through the storm, they laughed through the pain, and made it out alive.

He loved Mattheo for a wild spirit that could outmatch even Fiendfyre. Honestly, what shit this guy was on? His father had started a literal war, his father had tortured him both physically and mentally. The very same father who had killed Mattheo’s mother and would’ve killed him, too, had he known about the double game his son was playing! Like a phoenix, he kept rising from the ashes of the world they had all fallen into.

Then… You. Oh, Merlin, how he loved you. Your kind smile, soft hands, soothing voice murmuring tales of faraway kingdoms whenever he started spiraling. Whenever the anxiety turned so cruel he had to crawl back into that familiar shell Theo hated with all his being—his own head. It was a cluttered place: crushed-but-not-forgotten memories piling up, his father’s torn instructions littering the floor, his mother’s lullabies spinning on an old, Muggle record player. Being lost had become his daily routine. Wake up, curse existence, smoke, sleep. And the cycle repeated. Until you crossed his mind.

His light. His stars. His soul. His second heart, given that the first one had been broken many, many times it was a miracle he was still walking.

If there were no you, there would be no him. Literally. Figuratively.

Some might’ve called Theodore a fool for becoming this attached to a person who could leave at any moment. He knew you never would. Not after the hell you’d been through together. Yet, it stung, as if a snake had coiled around his ribs and sank its fangs deep into his skin.

The silvery laughter he had long monopolised rang across the common room, a few housemates lifted their heads up. Yeah, it was you, messing around with Mattheo. Two of his closest friends sharing a good laugh! Without him. Was it illegal? Of course not! You had every right to have fun with any person you pleased; he would just be there… watching. There was nothing wrong with that.

Nothing fucking wrong.

“Hey, man, let me put it away.” A flash of black robes and pearly-white teeth appeared to his right to pry the glass from his hand. Only then did Theo realise how tight his grip had become. Another second, and the glass would’ve shattered, leaving him bloody and miserable. “Are you okay? You seem all riled up. Did those Gryffindor pussies say something to you again?”

Theodore took a slow drag from his cigarette (nobody really cared about smoking in the common rooms anymore). As the nicotine flooded his lungs, he felt the pressure from his chest lift.

However, Mattheo’s grin when you smacked his arm made Theo’s stomach clench with sudden nausea.

“I’m good, Zabini. No need for your mother-hen fussing.” A thick plume of smoke curled from his nose and lips, dissolving into nothing after the lazy flick of his fingers. You hated the smell, he remembered.

Blaise huffed, sank into the armchair, poured himself some firewhiskey and let out a tired sigh. Those long-ass train rides tended to wear him out. They sat in silence, the only noise disturbing their fragile peace was your and Mattheo’s chatter.

The dancing fire from the hearth cast a halo around your head, and… fuck, you were a goddess in Theo’s eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of letting another unfortunate worshipper steal his divine blessing. You were his faith. You belonged to him! He knew exactly what offerings you required, what praises you adored, what sacrifices had to be made to lay upon your altar. Everything. For you.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Mate’s gonna have a hole in his head.” Blaise chuckled and nudged Theo’s leg with his boot.

“Won’t hurt him,” Theodore muttered, the leather groaning under his weight as he tried to find a better position to avoid that irritating ache at his side. “Cazzo...”

Draco waltzed into the room with a stack of books and dropped them onto the table right beside two half-empty glasses and a pitcher that was supposed to hold water (well, with Zabini nearby, all water magically turned into alcohol). He kicked Blaise’s feet off the nearest chair and took a seat. “What’s going on with you two? Sulking again?”

Theodore and Blaise didn’t spare a glance at him, far too busy absorbing the sight before. Theo was mesmerized by the way your lips moved around whatever stupid things you must’ve talked about with Riddle; Zabini—by how Pansy was flicking through her book with a bored tilt of her head, the red lipstick a stark contrast against her pale skin. They both lifted their glasses at the same time.

“Yeah, I get it. Fuck off, Malfoy,” Draco muttered to himself.

Another burst of laughter rippled through the common room, and Mattheo’s hand shifted, coming to rest on the back of the sofa just inches from your shoulder. For all the world, Theodore Nott couldn’t condemn his friend for trying to find a new spark in life. Everyone deserved something good after that gruesome battle for survival! He, as well, was nothing but a moth drawn to a flame—and you were the sole reason he kept desperately fluttering his tiny wings.

Possessive, childish it was to want you all to himself. Mattheo could go find someone else, drown himself in alcohol, smoke away whatever shit he could roll into a paper, become an Auror to stay permanently high on adrenaline. Why should Theodore care? No, he should care. Just care! It’s his responsibility, wasn’t it? Ugh…

Get away—no! Stop it. He was a friend, too. Yours, his, everyone’s. It was fine to talk, to laugh, to be close. Mattheo needed you. Theodore needed you. So why did it feel like twisting a knife into his own chest? Pushing deep, past the once-broken ribs, the bottled-up rage that flared and gnawed at his flesh, down to the root of his existence. Blood spilled, bones crushed. Screams. Your screams in a flurry of spells and black smoke. His own howl when he thought he’d lost you in the battle. A promise to never let you go. A hopeless kiss beneath a collapsed roof. ‘Please, please come back to me.’

 Fuck.

“I need some air.” Theo stood up, knocking the glass over in the process.

The dark corridor greedily swallowed his hunched form.

Draco cleared his throat and stared at the liquid spreading across the rug as if it had personally offended him. “Uhm, maybe we should go after him?”

“Let the man sort his shit out,” Zabini countered. “It’s not like he’s going to jump from the Astronomy Tower anyway.”

You approached them with a soft smile and ruffled Malfoy’s immaculate hair, receiving an annoyed scoff.

“Who’s jumping today? They better do a flip,” you giggled, but your gaze was already wandering around the room in search for someone. One specific person.

Mattheo slid into Theo’s armchair, his long legs stretching out, hand already reaching for the pitcher. A glint of amusement lingered in his brown-chocolate eyes.

“No one.”

“Nott.”

Blaise kicked Draco’s shin; he flipped him off in return.

“What? Theodore?” The sudden worry scraped against your throat, and a rush of cold sweat broke out down your spine.

It had become a basic instinct at this point—to scan the sea of faces for Theo to be sure he was safe. That was what you’d been telling yourself all this time. Not because of the butterflies his voice alone could arouse in your stomach. Of course not. Having been close friends for almost a decade couldn’t have passed unnoticed: glued to each other’s sides like Siamese twins, joined hands whenever the crowd grew too dense, seeking each other out in corridors, sharing notes, traumas, secrets. Sharing, sharing, sharing. Until you became indistinguishable.

If there were no him, there would be no you.

“How was your summer, love?” Draco asked, turning to you. Although, he never received an answer as you strode out of the common room with a stuttering heart. “Yeah… mine too.”

Blaize patted his shoulder in sympathy. There they were again. Together, at least.

***

Hundreds of steps led you up to the very top of the Astronomy Tower, where the velvet, midnight-blue sky harboured the stars and cradled the glowing moon. A canvas of endless possibilities, yet it chose to be a home for the universe. How poetic.

“Theo?” You stepped onto the worn wooden floor, unsure of what to say or do—it was never simple with Theodore.

First, you were hit by a gust of cold air, thick with the scent of fading summer, and then by the bitter sting of cigarette smoke. It twirled in a murky cloud between Theodore’s delicate fingers, as a loyal pet at its master’s mercy. Somehow you felt like violating his comfort, but who goes to the Tower if not for therapy?

“No, stay.” His raspy voice caught you in the middle of a step back. “Come here.”

The view from the highest tower in Hogwarts was to die for. However, the memories were what kept your feet firmly planted on the ground, even when the war had battered most of them. One of them of a second-year detention in the Forbidden Forest now mingled with the exhausting weeks spent in the woods, hiding from Death Eaters. Hogwarts’ grounds, partially restored, lay ahead; the sparkling water of a fountain, where you used to spend hours gossiping with your girls, winked up at you. The place where you had admitted your feelings for your best friend, Theodore Nott. Never to him, of course, just to a stray cat. Funny how that fountain was the first thing they chose to reconstruct.

You turned to look at Theo. Sharp profile, tousled hair which had grown a little longer over the last four months, full lips wrapped around a cigarette. At the back of your mind, a memory surfaced like an unwelcome guest—the taste of his mouth on yours, a salty tang colliding with copper. The kiss had lasted mere seconds, but its aftermath had left a mark to this day.

“Are you okay?” you asked him softly.

When his piercing blue eyes locked on you, your breath hitched.

“No.”

The raw honesty of his response made the needles along your spine drive even deeper into your skin.

“W-want to talk about it?”

Oh, he wanted to talk about a thousand things. Why did you choose to talk with Riddle when he was standing right there? Why did you smile at him more than you did at Theo on the way to Hogwarts? Since when had your presence was necessary for him to function? Why did you have to do this to him? Was he alive? Or was it all just a bloody dream of his dying consciousness? If yes, he wished it would let him die already.

Had he said it out loud? The look on your face stirred the tangled mess of his insides.

“Listen, I can ask Mattheo to bring you a—” you fumbled over your words, hands gripping the iron railing tight enough for your knuckles to whiten.

“Mattheo?” His choked laughter made you flinch. “So, it’s all about Mattheo now, is it? What, he spent his summer at your house and you two became best friends forever? I can’t believe it!”

“He doesn’t have anyo—”

But the dam had broken—the black, poisoned waters were rushing to escape the riverbanks.

“And he has you, right? You?! Of all people. Has he told you how much he cares about you yet? How he sees you, understands you? He did, he fucking did. He always does this exact same shit with the girls he wants to fuck!” Theodore hissed, the icy notes nibbled at your heart with pointed teeth. It hurt.

“Theo.”

“I watched him break other girls’ hearts. I watched him destroy them because he doesn’t know any better !” He grabbed your shoulders, his blunt nails digging into your skin, where the scars were healing. But you didn’t pull away, couldn’t pull away. “I was here—I am here! For you. Forever. I would die for you. I would kill for you!”

“Theodore.”

“Why him? When you have me! Am I not enough? Am I not the right person for you?! I don’t want you laughing with him, looking at him, talking to him! Fuck it if I’m being selfish. I am selfish! I didn’t survive hell to end up with nothing.” His vision blurred, throat hurt from the weight of the emotions tumbling out.

The moon, a silent witness to his confession, missed the exact moment when the stars seemed to slip away to drown in the cold waves of Theo’s eyes. You reached up to cup his face, a few stray tears licked at your thumbs.

“I came back for you. Not for Draco, not for Blaise, not for a fucking Mattheo. Merlin… I sound so pathetic,” Nott let out a ragged sigh, his frustration melting under the warmth of your touch. It was terrifying, really, how much power you held over him. “He’s my friend. You’re my friend. But I will do anything to be more than that to you. Tell me—tell me what to do! Now, please. Tell me. What do I do? Because I don’t know what to do anymore. I-I can buy you a new ring since you lost yours, or I can… I’ll write you a poem. It won’t be good as Mattheo’s, but—”

You pulled him down by his collar and crashed your lips into his. Every unsaid word, every doubt he had dissolved into this blissful feeling of your sweet mouth. The iron railing bit into his lower back; the world had tilted on its axes, swapping the ground with the sky. He was walking through constellations, his feet sinking into the velvet fabric of infinity, his hands gripping you, caressing, pulling you closer, as if you were to slip through his fingers and vanish forever.

His hair was soft between your fingers, his shallow gasps for air made your knees buckle. Theodore only held you tighter, kissed deeper, all tongue and the smoky aftertaste of his cigarette. Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours, hours bled into eternity. Nothing in his life could compare to this. Even winning the war.

Damn the oxygen your lungs craved! You parted, your lips tingled from the fierce, ‘accidental’ bites he’d left in the heat of the moment.

“Are you done talking nonsense?” you grunted, holding his face.

“You kissed me because you were tired of me talking?” He rolled his eyes.

Here was your Theodore Nott again. To your utter dismay, it was impossible to stay mad at someone with flushed cheeks and scrunched up nose. This boy, whom you loved to the moon and back.

“I kissed you because you are stupid, and I knew you’d whine all week if I slapped your face instead.” He muttered something incoherent, but the playful smack to his shoulder finally brought a genuine, tentative smile to his lips. “You shouldn’t be jealous, Theo. Mattheo is a friend. And you… you are everything. I…”

The rest of the words got stuck in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t the time for them yet. Not when the wounds were still closing, when blood still seeped, and Death lingered around the corners. Where words failed, your eyes were more eloquent. A touch, a tiny smile, a comfortable silence.

Theodore swallowed hard, he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Ti amo, mia luce.” Only a whisper. “Ti amo così tanto. Tu sei tutto per me.”

“What does that even mean?” you grumbled, though you might’ve caught the meaning.

He pressed a tender kiss to the tip of your nose, a fresh furry of butterflies rushed to your belly. “Find out.”  

[mstaverswritessillythings]

Something I did for The Dreamers - I am exceedingly proud of this, as this was the first time I think I have managed to make skin look good enough (with Ginny, poor Theo is another story altogether).

[serophinatheslytherin]

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: smut MDNI

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: hi all! This is my first crack at writing fanfic in some years, so go easy on me but I hope you like it! :)

This afterparty is suffocating.

Not because of the smoke drifting from Blaise's blunt, or the press of bodies packed too tight around the makeshift bar Pansy set up. No, the suffocation was entirely his fault.

Theo leant against the far wall with a drink loose in his hand, half listening to his friends, half watching you.

He'd been watching you all night.

Not obviously, he had the decency to pretend it was an accident that his dark eyes kept drifting over your bare shoulders, the slit of your skirt, the curve of your mouth every time you lifted your cup. He looked at you like he was bored, but beneath it, he was memorized.

you risk a glance in his direction and find, unsurprisingly, that his dark eyes are already on you. The corner of his mouth ticks up—not quite a smile, and nothing warm, just acknowledgment. Like he wasn’t embarrassed at all to be caught staring.

Suddenly your skin feels tight. You feel yourself blush and quickly look away before he notices.

"Hey" Pansy interrupts, nudging you more aggressively than necessary.

"We’re taking shots, do you want one or not?" she yells over the noise and the music.

“Um…no go ahead, I’ll be back…” you offer vaguely, turning away from her before even finishing your sentence. She rolls her eyes.

You head towards the entrance of the common room, half for an escape from the noise, and half because you have a feeling Theo’s not going to tolerate your leaving his sight.

The corridor outside the common room is wonderfully cool, and the silence that comes once the door clicks shut is a blessing.

"You're not very good at hiding, you know."

You can’t help a smirk. As cool and suave as Theo always pretends to be, he’s so predictable.

"Hiding from what?" you ask with a smirk and a roll of your eyes.

"From me." *hiding* from him. Oh how the opposite was true.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I just needed a break.”

"You've been avoiding my eyes for an hour and then you disappeared." He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you with unhurried steps. "That's not hiding?"

You roll your eyes. You hate when he calls you out like this. As nonchalant and suave as you try to be, you know you’re just as predictable as him. "I was socializing. With my friends. At a party." It comes off more defensive than you’d like.

He cocks an eyebrow takes a step towards you so that he’s close enough for you to smell the cedar and smoke on his clothes. “Socializing? you were practically squirming"

"I wasn't squirming."

"No?" His voice drops lower. "Then why did you leave, principessa?"

The Italian slips out like a caress, and you blush.

His mouth curves into that same smirk from earlier, but it’s sharper now. Hungrier.

"There it is," he murmurs. "Been waiting for that all night."

"For what?" You spit, angry that he has this much power over you

"For that beautiful little blush. You know how I feel when you blush."

You hadn’t realized that Theo had been backing you further against the wall until he plants one hand beside your head, caging you in with one arm, and sweeping you against him with the other. And then his lips are against yours. He always starts off soft and deep, cradling you in his strong, warm embrace as you get used to the intimacy.

When he pulls away, his lips move to brush the shell of your ear, "I've been half-hard since you walked in wearing that you know."

You smirk and tilt your head slightly, brushing your temple against his in a silent plea for neck kisses. He obliges and you hum happily. “I know” you murmur quietly as he kisses and gently sucks on your neck. His other arm falling from the wall to wrap around you. He pulls you more tightly into him as his hands begin to feel up your sides and down your spine, worshiping you as he does with every opportunity he gets. A silent sigh leaves your lips as you finally wrap your arms around his neck and your fingers through his hair. You feel the quietest hitch of his breath at your reciprocation. Theo has always been like this. Bold and in control on the outside, but desperate for your affection and approval on the inside.

You grip his hair and pull his lips back to yours and he makes a sound against your lips, low and surprised, like he hadn't quite believed you'd do it even after all his pushing. Then his composure cracks.

He kisses you back hard and needy, all breath and tongue and desperation he'd clearly been holding on a leash all evening. One hand moves to the base of your skull, tangling in your hair and angling your head to deepen the kiss while the other pulls you impossibly closer, fingers digging in slightly like he needs to anchor himself to you.

"Fuck," he breaths into your mouth. "Fuck, I've wanted—"

"Well it took you long enough" you say licking his lip and then kissing him again

He hums an incredulized noise before breaking the kiss "Me? You could've come over anytime—"

"And give you the satisfaction?" You pull him back in, swallowing whatever clever response you’re *sure* he had.

The kiss turns filthy. Wet and open-mouthed, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that makes your knees weak. He tastes like whiskey and something sweet, something you could never get enough of.

Somewhere down the corridor, a door opens and laughter spills out.

You both pull apart instinctively. You sigh and wipe your mouth as Theo shoves his hands in his pockets until you realize that the interrupting party is headed in the other direction.

Theo looks around, then takes your arm “come on.” He murmurs quietly, still wary of the people somewhere down the other end of the corridor.

You let him pull you into a familiar broom closet. The place he always takes you when the boys’ dorm isn’t empty or when he can’t wait long enough to get you across the common room.

Darkness envelopes you both.

"Lumos," he whispers, and the faintest glow emanates from his wand, which he'd stuck between two shelves. Just enough light to see by. You know he likes to see you.

The closet is cramped, and the muffled bass of the party is still audible through the door, but somehow it always turns into your own little world when you’re in here with him.

"Someone could open the—" you start.

"They won't." He says as his hands find your hips in the dim light, walking you backward until your shoulders hit the wall behind you. His eyes connect with yours, and he simply looks at you with an unreadable intensity in his eyes that’s been more and more common as this…thing you two have goes on. his thumbs trace circles against your hipbones, slow and deliberate. "I’ve been looking forward to this all night you know.” He says softly.

You answer by grabbing his collar and crushing your mouth to his.

This kiss, while still filled with urgency, is different than the corridor. like now that you’re hidden away in you two’s special place, you can both finally take what you want without pretense.

Theo's hands roam your body again, skimming up your sides, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your tight dress. You arch into the touch with a small sigh, and he swallows the sound greedily, kissing you deeper.

"It’s been driving me crazy all day really." he rasps between kisses, "thought I was going to snap and bend you over the cauldron in potions."

"Yeah?" You pant, fingers scrabbling at his jumper. "You could have done something about it at lunch" you tease. You know he couldn’t have. You’d teased him all through potions and then purposefully disappeared for the rest of the day until the party just to wind him up.

He huffs a small laugh. “I should bend you over now just for that.” He says, but he lifts you by the waist to sit on the edge of a shelf and cradles you as your legs wrap around him. He groans as your heat presses against the bulging hardness in his pants. "Lucky for you I like looking at your pretty face.” He says, resting your body on a shelf so he can cup your face in his hands and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You giggle and smile, scrunching your nose at his sappy affection. You playfully nip at his nose before wrapping your arms around him again and pulling him into a deep kiss. His arms wrap around you too, his thumb rubbing loving circles on your back as his other hand unzips your dress. You let him pull it down and you reach down to unzip his pants. Your foreheads rest together and you watch his cock spring from his boxers. Rock hard and already throbbing for you. You hum softly as you stroke him slowly, watching his eyes roll shut and his breath hitch. You cup his face and kiss him once before trailing your kisses from the corner of his mouth, down his jaw, and to the sensitive spot behind his ear. His breath shudders and he gently grasps your hair as you stroke the thick, strong shaft of his cock, from the base to the sensitive tip, your thumb paying extra attention to rub his frenulum and circle his slit, feeling it jump in your hand.

He moans softly against your shoulder at this and pushes his cock against you, reaching down to angle it so that it slides through your lips and rubs against your clit. He kisses you deeply as he rocks against you, his tip catching at your entrance with each pass, gathering the wetness on his leaking tip and sliding your combined arousals up to your clit. He teases your clit with his tip and your breath shakes into the kiss. You rock against it, feeling the pleasure overtake you as he works your clit with his cock. You can feel his cock jumping and throbbing against you as he works you higher. He kisses your neck and licks at your skin as your soft moans fill the closet, mingling with his. You feel yourself getting closer, the intimacy of it and the added feeling of his precum leaking onto you making you grip his shoulders as your back arches, pressing your breasts into his chest.

But right when you’re about to tip over the edge, he finally plunges into you, catching your gasp and moan with his mouth as he moans into yours too. He pulls you impossibly closer against him as he thrusts into you, his pace steady as he drags his cock along your tight walls, hitting that spot that makes you gasp with every thrust. “Cazzo…” he murmurs, his hips speeding up

Your head falls back against the shelf, exposing your throat, and Theo descended on it immediately. Teeth scraped over your pulse, then soothing tongue, sucking a mark you'll have to hide tomorrow. Your fingers dive into his hair, tugging hard.

Each thrust drives the air from your lungs and rattles the shelves around you. Theo fucks like he fights—calculated, relentless, devastating—every stroke hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

"Look at me." His command comes ragged. His hand cups the back of your skull and your cheek, tilting your face up. "Want to ah-want to see you."

Your eyes lock with his in the dim light—swallowed by each other, wild and desperate and beautiful. His hair falls across his forehead in disarray from your fingers. He looks completely undone and absorbed and obsessed

Because of you.

"Kiss me," you beg, and he obeys instantly, crashing his mouth over yours while his hips keep fucking into you. His hand slides down your hip and thigh and gently grasps the back of your knee to lift your leg higher on his hip, shifting the angle so he can push himself even deeper into you, and you moan out against his lips.

"Shh—" He swallows the sound, palm smoothing over your thigh to secure it around his waist. "Need you to be quiet amore mio" he whispers against your temple

But your pleasure is mounting, your walls beginning to clench around him, you’re so close. So fucking close,

"I-I-Theo I’m gonna-!”

"I know, principessa." His thumb finds your clit, circling in time with his thrusts. "I know. Let go for me. My beautiful girl."

The dual sensation finally shatters you.

Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave breaking. Your walls clamp around Theo in rhythmic pulses, drawing him deeper, milking him, and you burry your face in his neck to muffle the moans tearing from your throat.

"Cazzo—" Theo's rhythm stutters, his own composure crumbling as your body squeezes him through every aftershock. "God you feel—fuck, I'm—"

His hips piston erratically, chasing release with desperate, jagged thrusts. You feel him thicken inside you, hear the high moan catch in his throat, and then he pulls out, hand wrapping around himself, stroking once, twice, and then spilling hot across your inner thigh with a guttural moan that vibrated through you both.

For a long moment, neither of you move.

Just breathing. Ragged and intertwined, echoing off the closet walls. Somewhere beyond the door, the party carries on oblivious.

Theo's forehead rests against yours, chests heaving in tandem. His hand trembled where it gripps the shelf beside your hip.

"That was—" he starts

"What’s amore mio? You’ve never called me that.” You know he slips into Italian sometimes when he’s overwhelmed and oversensitive and lost in the pleasure. And you know what amore mio means, you don’t need to speak Italian to recognize it.

He doesn’t answer your question, but after a moment, he presses a kiss to your temple. He’s always affectionate after, that’s nothing new…

After a few moments, you faintly hear Pansy’s voice calling your name over the pounding bass. Theo’s head shifts and he quickly kisses your hairline before reaching down and handing you your dress. “Here, we shouldn’t…”

“Yeah…” you answer. You both dress, and he fixes your hair gently.

“You go, I’ll wait 15 minutes.” He says.

“Ok…” you turn to the door but look back “thanks…and…you know…next time you really can do something about it at lunch if you want to…” you don’t know what made you say it. It’s not really relevant. But it felt like something more needed to be said. He smirks and huffs a small laugh.

“I will. Go, I’ll see you in there.”

You turn to go again, but turn back to kiss him one more time before leaving the closet.

[countdracc]

dreams don't mean anything

summary: theo has a dream about you and hates it

warnings: none :) words: 1.07k

The beach Theo was on looked like the one he loved as a child. Fine sand, warm water, and an even warmer hand slotted in his.

His dark gaze dipped, finding a daintier hand settled in his with an air of normalcy, like it was baffling that it could ever be laced between another's fingers. Those same brown eyes met another pair, a familiar set that usually forced a wave of annoyance up his throat, but the only feeling that caught him off guard was… affection. A deep and all-encompassing passion that pulled his heartstrings so tight he was nervous they might snap.

You grinned, your pearly whites so blinding he could have sworn he saw all of the reasons why you had smile lines so deep reflecting back at him.

The 'fake' version of him lost the heat of your hand as he snuck both of his palms onto either side of your face and bent forward to brush his lips against yours.

────୨ৎ────

Theo gasped, heaving out startled breaths as he stared at the ceiling of his room. He watched as the fan spun in endless circles, and, immediately regretted it as the repeat motion hypnotized him into remembering that blasted dream.

You were annoying and far too loud to be of interest to Theodore Nott. Surely that was the case. Though, that truth came with another one. He wasn't stupid; of course you were beautiful, with brilliant skin that shone like silk in the direct sunlight, and eyes that looked like kaleidoscopes when you sat reading by the firelight.

But that could be chalked up to a very severe case of perfect proportions. Right? Right.

He curled upwards, wracking his fists against his temples to try and knock the desire to settle back into that dream just to feel your touch against his bicep and neck as you wrapped your arms around him into an intimate embrace as the two of you kissed like you were commemorating a moment that must be celebrated.

The alarm clock on his bedside table began to ring. Mattheo groaned from across the room. Both noises were a cruel reminder that this was real life now.

He dragged himself out of bed, attempting to get Mattheo to do the same as he got ready. The boy in question merely made another noise of contempt as he pushed his friends hand away.

Theo brushed his teeth all while blinking away dangerous thoughts of you. When he ran cream through his damp curls, he fought to push away the idea of your touch replacing his. Nothing worked. It's like he walked through a cobweb and never could never really get the last few strings off his face.

Bereft of any motivation to do anything more than think about what a dream like that could possibly mean, he stalked out of his room, making sure to not make eye contact with the chair you usually sat in at night (which he swore had just grown your big, blinking eyes and smile).

Theo, usually a man who prided himself on his courage and overflowing amount of steely resolve couldn't bring himself to even look at you during breakfast; or lunch; or dinner.

His actions were undeniably odd, and the fact that Theo was usually a by the book individual made it hard to not notice his off script behavior, especially when Mattheo's scrutinizing stare was in play.

On the fourth day of the Italian doing anything but meeting your eyes (even choosing studying in the dark corners of the library on a Saturday night) Mattheo knew a conversation was to be had.

See, he was many things, but blind was certainly not in his short list of weaknesses.

"You must be exhausted," Mattheo quipped, nudging Theo's shoulder.

Theo's blank stare flickered and broke away from the intense burning look he was giving the back of your head.

"From what?" He sighed.

"I mean, avoiding her and staring at her really must be taking it out of you."

"Merlin," he picked up his quill and began to write furiously. "I am not staring. I was thinking about what I should write."

"Mate, if you look any harder you're going to make her head explode," He drawled, leaning back in his chair. "It's worse than Potter staring at that Weasley girl and pretending like no one notices."

"Could you be anymore aggravating?" Theo hissed.

"Just go talk to her."

"I have zero obligations to talk to any person. Unlike you, I don't get validation from others. It's all," he tapped his temple, "in here."

Mattheo sneered. "Who pissed in your pumpkin juice?"

"No one. I'm just… not sleeping well."

"Aww," Mattheo reached over to pinch his friends cheek. "Do you need me to tuck you in?"

Theo swatted his invasive hand away. "Murder is easy to get away with when you're rich. Remember that."

"Pfft, I'm not scared of you." He rolled his eyes and then paused. "Oi, are you not sleeping cause of her? An itsy bitsy dream, maybe?"

Suddenly, Theo's quill scratched a long black line across his parchment.

"Merlin's pants, Theodore. You are! That's atrocious! A fucking dream, really? Are you in a romance novel, now?"

"Could you keep your voice down?" Theo hissed, dropping his quill altogether.

"Did you two kiss? Hold hands and have a picnic on the Black Lake? Oh! Totally fucked on a cloud—"

"Shut up!"

Snape glared from across the lip of his bubbling cauldron.

"You know," Mattheo began, glancing your way.

"Don't. Even."

"You know, I'm actually very good at getting the girl. Send her some puppy dog eyes and run your fingers through that mop on your head and she'll be a puddle at your feet."

"Uhm, she's a person, not a chocolate bar in the sun. Also, didn't have a dream and don't want her. Too fucking loud, that one."

Mattheo's eyes tightened into slits. "Fine. She's fit. I'll ask her out."

"Sure you will." Theo scoffed. Mattheo didn't miss the pinkening of his cheeks.

He laughed tauntingly, and slowly stood from his chair. Almost immediately, Theo grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down.

"And you don't like her right, Theo?"

"Right."

no longer missing in action y'all

[affectioncas]

STARRY EYES pt. 2 | theodore nott

word count: 4,257

summary: he's balling i repeat he's balling

author's note: wow. the LONG awaited part 2! i hope it satisfies everyone that asked for it ahhh!! took me a while to write i wasn't sure what direction i wanted to take it in tbh... but i hope this one's good <3

🌷 masterlist ; part 1

“Pansy, no, ugh. Come on.” You’re complaining loudly as Pansy drags you into the Great Hall. You try to tug the sleeve of your robe back to no avail, Pansy’s iron grip forbidding you from retreating back to your room like you so desperately desire. “I don’t eat breakfast, you know that–”

“Oh, shut up. You just eat by yourself in your room and it’s sad. From now on, you’re eating with us.” Pansy has always been hardheaded, and she’ll never give up when her mind is set on something. Usually you admire these traits of hers, but right now, you despise them.

“You can’t be serious,” you grumble, trying to smile but appearing more like you’re grimacing when Blaise snickers at your clearly anxious form approaching the table.

You say a small hello to everyone as Pansy quite literally forces you to take a seat next to her, her hands on your shoulders to shove you down. You find it easy to fade into the background as you always do, hiding your smile behind your hand when Pansy starts to rant loudly about her least favorite pastries the house elves serve or when Mattheo kicks Draco under the table repeatedly to get on his nerves. It’s surprisingly easy to fall into the swing of things with this group.

Your feeling of ease, however, is quickly erased when Theodore appears and slides into the seat next to you. “Good morning,” he says to the group while staring straight at you. Somehow, no one notices. You nod your head towards him in response, staring at your plate in front of you, trying not to self combust.

These past few days have been torture for you. Or rather, you’ve been making it torture for yourself. Once you woke up the next morning after your little escapade with Theodore, a feeling of complete embarrassment washed over you. It’s not that you were put off by Theodore himself, no, it was more that you were completely mortified by the way you acted around him. He brought your guard down so easily and it terrified you. It doesn’t matter that he’s interested in you. You now seem to be interested in him, which is a thought you can barely stomach yourself.

Theodore’s hand brushes yours as he reaches for his glass and you almost faint. Pansy’s voice drowns into the background as the sound of your heartbeat thunders in your ears. You can barely even swallow your food as you try your best to act normal while simultaneously ignoring the man to your right with everything in you.

“I don’t like that you’re ignoring me,” Theodore murmurs into your ear as he leans across the table and in front of you to grab some fruit from a platter. The move is so smooth you’re not sure if you want to kiss him or run away.

“I’m… not,” you murmur back, and even you can sense the hesitation in your voice.

“I’m human too, bella. I have feelings. I’m hurt when you pretend like nothing happened.” Theodore says this all quietly, whispering next to you as he cuts the stems off the strawberries and places them onto your plate.

Wait. Your heart lurches in your chest, a stone forming in your throat. You’re overwhelmed with guilt and by his disgustingly sweet actions; he remembers your favorite fruit and prepares it for you right in front of everyone else like it’s not a big deal, and Merlin if you don’t feel absolutely sick to your stomach.

“I don’t…” you struggle to find the balance between speaking normally and trying not to spew your guts out. “I’ve never felt like this before,” is what you settle on, your voice sounding strained. “I’m scared-“

“What the hell are you guys whispering about?” You whip your head towards Pansy, a curious look on her face as she watches your expression. The rest of the group turns their head to look at you too. You feel like dissolving into the floor.

“You have a really bad habit of interrupting people, you know that?” Theodore answers for you, a slight twinge of irritation in his voice, though he masks it skillfully as a playful insult. You stare a hole into the cut strawberries on your plate, trying to disappear and go anywhere but right here.

You can see in your peripheral the skeptical look on Pansy’s face. “Interesting…” she murmurs, before launching back into her previous conversation like nothing happened. You let out a deep sigh of relief.

“I need to go,” you say to no one in particular, thankful when no one acknowledges you. You practically sprint out of the Great Hall, desperate for the familiar comfort of your dorm room. You need to calm down before classes start.

The strawberries remain untouched on your plate.

“You like her.”

Pansy points a threatening finger at Theodore’s chest, pushing him slightly with it as she glares up at him.

Theodore tries to deflect by rolling his eyes. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Oh shut it, you absolute buffoon." She scoffs, running a hand through her hair. She genuinely looks pissed, and Theodore’s honestly pretty scared of her at the moment. Pansy is like your personal guard dog, after all. He wouldn’t be surprised if she whipped out a multiple choice and short answer response test that he’d have to ace in order to even stand a chance with you.

“Did everyone know this except for me?” Pansy asks once the two of them are sitting down more comfortably on a couch in the common room, lounging by the fire. Pansy still looks like she might attack Theodore at any moment. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Mattheo says I’ve been making heart eyes at her since third year,” Theodore responds dryly, trying to calm his heart down that had started beating faster just from the thought of you.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Pansy mumbles dramatically, her head falling backwards against the seat of the couch. “You know I’ll kill you if you hurt her.”

“Trust me, I know.” That gets a cushion thrown straight at his chest, which Theodore catches with ease. “I’m not going to mess this up,” he says with more conviction. “I, well… I’m not sure how monumental of a step this is, but we had a conversation. She told me things about her.”

That makes Pansy sit up. She looks at him, wide eyed, mouth agape. “No. You mean she actually talked to an idiot like you?”

Theodore’s lips press into a thin line. “Thank you so much,” he says sarcastically. “And yes. We talked about her favorite classes and the book she was reading. Things like that.”

“Wow.” Pansy presses a hand to her heart. “I think I’m going to be sick. My baby is growing up too fast.”

Theodore raises an eyebrow. “You know you have a weird sort of obsession with her, right?”

“You are so one to talk, Nott. Need I remind you? In love with her since third year?” Pansy taunts, and Theodore knows he’s been caught.

“Now I really regret telling you everything,” Theodore murmurs under his breath, smirking when Pansy returns his comment with a glare.

“Pans, have you seen my scarf? I think I left it down here- oh.” You interrupt yourself once you see Pansy with Theodore, the two of them sitting by the fire. “Sorry,” you immediately backtrack, face flushing red.

You smile bashfully when Theodore gives you a small wave. You can’t help yourself. Pansy has to hide her laugh when she sees you react to something so small.

“Were you guys… talking about me?” you ask, and the guilty look on their faces gives it away almost immediately.

Pansy jumps in quickly, her curiosity getting the best of her. “I thought I was the only person you talked about your books with!”

You can feel your heart practically stop. Your face turns red again, but this time for a different reason. White hot embarrassment floods through your blood stream, your hands clenching into fists beside your body. You feel so exposed underneath both of their gazes, and the fact that you now know Theodore’s feelings as well as your own are out in the open makes your skin crawl. You aren’t prepared for this. Aren’t ready for it.

“You’re not the only person I talk to, you know,” you shoot back to Pansy. It’s so overly hostile that you even shock yourself. You watch her eyes widen along with Theodore’s, but it’s like someone else is in control of your body. The shame that washes over you makes you sick.

“That’s not what I meant,” Pansy says slowly, sensing your inner turmoil. “I just meant, well, you usually only talk to me abo-“

“I talk to other people too. I have friends.” Your vision blurs. You feel pathetic. You’re not sure why you suddenly feel such a need to defend yourself. No one’s attacking you, your brain says to your heart, but you can’t help it. Pansy knows about you and Theodore. It takes you by such surprise, catches you so off guard that now you feel out of control.

Theodore stands up abruptly, as if trying to help diffuse the situation, but you raise your hand up to stop him. “Save it.” You spin around and walk away before either of them can say anything. You’ve never left a room faster in your life.

You’re cursing yourself eternally as your mind strays for the millionth time. You had taken your books out of your room and to the library, planning on studying there to try and forget this entire failure of a day.

Your plan does not end up distracting you, as you find the words on the page constantly blurring together, your mind wandering to other things like if Pansy hates you now or if Theodore sees you as some moody girl. The hatred and disgust you feel for yourself only grows. You clench your quill so hard you fear it might break.

You barely register the sound of the chair in front of your desk being pulled out and someone sitting down in it. You almost burst into tears when you look up and see your best friend.

“Oh no, don’t cry babes,” Pansy murmurs, reaching across the table to wipe under your eyes tenderly. “I knew I’d find you here.”

You sniffle, leaning away slightly to wipe your eyes on your own, trying to ignore the pain in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” Pansy starts, and it only makes you feel worse. “I know how much you hate feeling cornered, I-“

“No,” you interrupt quickly, meeting her gaze. “I was horrible to you,” you choke out. “I know you didn’t mean it in the way I said. I just… I just felt so exposed. It was like… Theodore was my secret. And he told you so casually I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.” You’re kind of rambling at this point, and you’re not even sure if what you’re saying makes any sense, but you remind yourself that it’s Pansy. Your best friend. She’d try her best to understand, no matter what.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” you finish, grabbing her hand on the table before squeezing it softly.

“Don’t be silly.” Pansy shakes her head from side to side. “I think I know how you feel. When you found out about me and Hermione… that was my secret too. I also felt betrayed. Mad even. I knew it didn’t make any sense. It’s just the feeling of being caught off guard.” She returns your hand squeeze. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have pried in your business.”

“That’s not it, Pans. I’m glad you know. I want you to know. But you’re right, it just caught me off guard, and I’m sorry.” The word ‘sorry’ is being thrown around so much you aren’t sure who’s even saying it at this point.

“No, I’m sorry.” Pansy insists.

“But I’m more sorry,” you reply.

“I am the most sorry in the whole world, so just shut up now, okay?” You snicker and let Pansy’s arms envelop you from across the table. You return her embrace, the smell of her perfume wafting over you and calming you down. It feels like such a relief to not fight with her anymore. The two of you almost never fight, let alone over a boy.

“Will you do me a favor?” She asks once the two of you sit back down, her hands moving to close your books in front of you.

“Uh, sure,” you say unsurely, watching her hastily clean up your stuff for you. Odd.

“I really need to talk to you about something, but I can kinda only tell you in the Clock Tower at 11 tonight.” Pansy gives you a cheeky smile as she hands you your books, gesturing you to put them in your bag.

You narrow your eyes at her as you sling your bag over your shoulder, the two of you walking out of the library. “Are you planning to push me off or something?”

“Not yet,” Pansy teases as she throws her arm around you, guiding you back towards the common room. “Just… clean up a little bit, and make sure to be there. Alright?”

“Pans, why would I need to- hey!” You call after her, but she doesn’t respond. She simply leaves you alone in the middle of the corridor, muttering some excuse about meeting Hermione. You sigh, rubbing the tense space between your eyebrows before making your way towards the dungeons. There’s something not quite right about this whole ordeal; you’ve never seen Pansy act this way before in your entire life. But you’re too tired to argue.

From the moment you accidentally stumbled onto the inner workings of the top of the Clock Tower when trying to find the Divination classroom during your 3rd year, you were instantly hooked. There was something about the way the massive pendulum swayed, each loud swoosh a few seconds apart, that instantly calmed you along with the slight breeze that tousled your hair.

It became your late night sanctuary, a place to go when you needed to be alone, or if you needed a quiet spot to read, etcetera. Of course, Pansy is the only one who knows about this little spot of yours, so you weren’t too surprised when she proposed here to meet out of all places.

You were surprised, however, when you found Theodore in your usual spot instead of Pansy. You have to physically close your mouth with your hand, your eyes widening to the size of the moon, whose light was filtering in through the glass.

“What the hell?” Are the only words you can muster as he gives you a sheepish smile. It’s so innocent and boyish, almost shy, that you find yourself forgiving Pansy immediately for obviously tricking you.

“Sorry,” Theodore says quickly as you walk over to him. “I didn’t mean to lie to you. It wasn’t my idea, I swear.”

You stifle a laugh, shaking your head from side to side. “Don’t worry. I was just surprised, that’s all. Not mad.”

You can feel his nervousness, which oddly enough comforts you instead of adds to your own. You’re just glad to know that you’re not the only one who’s feeling anxious to be around the other.

“I felt bad for talking about us,” Theodore starts, “to Pansy. I didn’t ask for your permission first.”

You wince, the shame of it all seeping back into your body. “No, it’s alright. I overreacted. She’s your friend too.”

The word he used, ‘us’, sticks in your head. “I didn’t realize that there was an us,” you add on, trying to observe his reaction, but too scared to look up from the ground. The prospect of there being something between the two of you that would connect you together scared yet exhilarated you.

“Well, that’s up to you now, isn’t it?” Theodore says smoothly. You can feel his eyes on you. You feel the strange urge to vomit again. Butterflies rage in your stomach, making you feel almost lightheaded. Swoosh. The pendulum swings twice before you can think of a response.

“I’ve never… done like this before,” you say softly, finally looking up at him. Theodore’s expression is so understanding and open, with no hint of judgement whatsoever. You suddenly remember why it’s so easy to talk to him all over again.

“I think I,” you hesitate, trying to find the words. “I think I… like you. Or at least feel something for you. And that scares me, because I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

It’s true that it scares you. Love scares you. You’ve spent countless nights awake thinking about Theodore’s face, you’ve daydreamed about his voice, and you’ve gotten distracted by his hands in class. This feeling is so unfamiliar to you, and it almost humiliates you. You’ve never been the type of person to open up around anyone before, and now a boy is doing it without even trying.

“You know how I feel about you, tesoro,” Theodore says softly, reaching for your hand. He never interrupts you or makes you feel crazy for what you say. It was easy for you to fall for him. You feel electric when your fingers brush against his. You feel like you might suffocate.

“Close your eyes,” Theodore says suddenly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “I promise it’s nothing bad.”

You find yourself listening to his almost melodic voice, letting your eyes flutter shut. “I trust you,” you say softly. You can hear a faint rustling sound somewhere in the background, and your heart beats faster with anticipation.

“Alright, you can open them now,” Theodore says slowly.

The sight in front of you makes you gasp. It’s nothing extravagant. It’s nothing expensive. But it’s somehow the best gift you’ve ever received. It must be at least a dozen different flowers pieced together to form the most beautiful bouquet you’ve ever seen.

Soft pink roses sit at the heart of it, their petals slightly ruffled and imperfect in a way that only makes them prettier. Around them are clusters of daisies, tiny sprays of lavender, little buttercups that catch the light like drops of gold. Long blades of grass and leafy ferns have been tucked in to fill the spaces, giving the bouquet a windswept look.

None of the blooms match perfectly. Some petals are bent, some stems are unevenly trimmed. But that’s what makes it so beautiful. Every flower feels carefully chosen, every little imperfection proof that Theodore had spent time and energy creating something that would please you.

“They’re beautiful,” you manage to breathe out, taking the bouquet from his hands slowly. You’re admiring it with eyes so wide there might be tears gathering in your eyes. “I… I love them. Did you conjure them?”

“No,” Theodore responds almost shyly. “I picked them. Some are from the courtyard, others are from the forest.”

His words make you gasp softly. The thought of Theodore taking his time, spending it outside, trying to find the most beautiful flowers for you made it a million times better than just creating them out of thin air.

“I want to take you out sometime,” Theodore murmurs, as if afraid to break you if he spoke too loud or moved too suddenly. “We can do whatever you’d like. If you want me to plan something, that’s fine too. I just want to spend time with you and get to know you better. You know how interested I am in you, amore.”

Swoosh. The pendulum swings with every beat of your heart. With every gust of wind, you can feel blood rushing to your head. You try and concentrate, attempting to ground yourself with each whisper of wind against your skin.

Swoosh. Your heartbeat slows. Swoosh. Your heartbeat quickens.

You seriously need to calm down before you faint. “Are you alright?” You vaguely hear Theodore’s voice, although it’s drowned out by your heartbeat in your ears.

“Sorry,” you say hurriedly. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Theodore says it like it’s no big deal, which makes you feel less stupid for being on the verge of a panic attack. “Do you need time to think about it?”

“No,” you answer quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “No. I would love that. I would love to go out with you.”

Theodore breaks out into the most genuine, wide smile you’ve ever seen him with. It makes your heart skip a beat. His eyes are sparkling in the moonlight, and it occurs to you that he’s so hauntingly handsome; it brings to your attention how unfair life is. It seems unbelievable, too, that there can be someone so perfect in the world, someone so patient and kind that is interested in you. You must’ve ended wars in your past life.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Theodore murmurs, and his honesty hits you square in the chest; the weight of his words is so large you almost stagger backwards.

You’ve never been kissed and he knows that. How are you supposed to act normal in this situation? You find yourself staring at his hair, gaining the strange urge to reach out and touch it, to run your fingers through it to get rid of all the knots. Theodore leans down slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, but you don’t want to. And even if you did, you’re too frozen in your spot to even make a sound.

His free hand raises up to press against the side of your face softly, and his touch is so warm and gentle that it almost hurts. It’s so painfully romantic and almost erotic that you can feel yourself heating up immediately.

Theodore must notice, because he smiles. “You look nervous,” he whispers, and you swallow heavily.

“How could I not be nervous?” You whisper back. You glance down to his lips. He glances down to yours.

“I really want to kiss you,” Theodore repeats, waiting for your reply. Waiting for your answer. Waiting for your permission.

“I wouldn’t stop you if you tried.” It takes all of your courage to say it. But it all becomes worth it once his lips land on yours. 

You can feel your whole body sway, leaning into his as his free hand tangles into your hair, his other gripping your cheek as if he’s afraid to let go. You sigh as his lips move gently against yours, the bouquet almost falling from your grasp as you lose all train of thought. Your heart stutters when you feel Theodore’s eyelashes brush against your cheek, and your free hand reaches out to grab the hem of his t-shirt. You might fall over without it grounding you.

Theodore doesn’t break the kiss when he moves you to lean your back against a railing, his arm caging you against it as his thumb on your face brushes over your cheekbone. His kisses become more insistent, more hungry as he presses himself into you, and you find yourself tugging him impossibly closer, dropping the bouquet to the floor so your hands can roam up his torso, eventually locking behind his neck to force him closer.

Theodore suddenly groans, pulling away to drop his head into the crook of your neck. The sudden loss of his lips against yours is like a bucket of cold water on your head; you can’t believe you just did that. You can’t hear anything besides your heartbeat in your ears, running faster than it ever had in your life.

“You okay?” Theodore murmurs, as observant as ever, knowing exactly how you’re feeling without you needing to verbalize it. You’re overwhelmed by a wave of need; you feel like you might die if he doesn’t consume you all over again.

You drag him up by the collar, pressing your lips to his again, muffling his chuckle. He reciprocates it with the same fervor, as if he has also been dying all these years without being able to feel you against him, around him, inside his very soul.

“I like when you’re like this,” Theodore drawls, pulling away just slightly to tease you. You blink up at him slowly, your brain having to catch up with this moment. You don’t know how he hasn’t completely lost it, like you have. You can’t form a single coherent thought.

“Shut up,” you eventually muster, kissing him again, feeling his arms up with your hands, letting him slot your body under his, feeling his warmth seep into every crevice inside you and satisfying every desire you’ve left ignored.

It feels like you’ve discovered some sort of new sense of purpose, like the last piece of a puzzle finally slotting into place now that you have your hands on Theodore and his on you. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than standing in the top of the Clock Tower, nothing you’d rather be doing than kissing Theodore Nott breathless. Your crush has bloomed into something intangible, something so large and soul consuming that you feel like you might not be able to breathe properly if he’s not around. It’s terrifying, but freeing at the same time. You find yourself being excited for what your future holds, or rather, who, and how your life will continue to change because of him.