“Blimey, how did this even happen?” Enzo Berkshire whispered from the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room, his eyebrows furrowed at the sight across the room.
“I don’t think even they know, mate,” Blaise Zabini said, the stone entrance wall shutting behind where he stood transfixed, his dark-brown eyes locked on the two entangled dozers.
You and Theodore Nott had both skipped out on dinner for the night, opting instead to work on the Potions essay Snape had assigned the pair of you — which you had both conveniently pushed off for weeks, and immediately regretted once you saw the workload that had been assigned.
Your identical copies of Advanced Potion Making lay open on the small table in front of the fireplace, along with twenty other library books you had borrowed; which Madam Pince would have a right fit about if she saw the notes you had sprawled in the margins.
Somehow, the two of you had ended up curled together on one of the leather sofas in the Common Room, your three-foot essay on Golpalott’s Third Law long forgotten.
Theo’s head was dangling off the arm of the sofa, his brunette curls tousled. Your head was resting on his chest, one hand placed over his beating heart. His arms were locked around you, holding you flush against him, your shallow breaths syncing with one another.
“Should we wake them?” Pansy Parkinson asked, her arms crossed as she stared at your sleeping forms.
“Ah, let ‘em rest,” Mattheo Riddle said, taking a swig from a bottle of Butterbeer he had brought back from the Great Hall for Theo. “Theo’s been having a hard time sleeping for days now, anyway.”
Draco Malfoy smirked, watching as Theo instinctively pulled you closer to him as he slept.
“Someone should go find that little blond stepstool who’s always following Potter around with that camera,” he suggested. “This is way too good to pass up.”
Summary: After your boyfriend cheats with your best friend, you enlist Theodore Nott in a fake relationship to get revenge
A/N: I fear this was better in my head
credits to @cafekitsune for the divider!
There comes a moment in every girl’s life that cements itself into her mind. It takes up a corner of her brain and becomes the foundation for every action she takes thereafter. It rewires her chemistry, ensuring that, years later, it will resurface unbidden, vivid and relentless.
She remembers it as though it’s happening right then. Every detail is etched onto the canvas of her mind with the precision of a master painter. She recalls every word, every inflection, every syllable. She feels again the rush of emotions, as if the pit of her stomach were reliving the moment in real time.
That was how it felt when your eyes landed on your boyfriend making out with your best friend, the girl who had been by your side since first year, the one you trusted implicitly. You stepped into the Hog’s Head that night, and your vision tunneled the second you saw them in the booth, lips locked.
The clinking of glasses around the pub sparkled mockingly in the dim light, a cruel contrast to the way your heart sank, your body shutting down as ice ran through your veins.
First came confusion. Perhaps you’d seen wrong, perhaps your mind was playing tricks. But as the seconds passed, certainty settled in, burning the image into your brain.
What do I do?
In any instance where you had been betrayed like this, your first instinct would have been to go to your best friend—the girl who had stuck with you since your first year when you were placed as dormmates.
Stuck in your place, your brain was short-circuiting, trying to, but in the end unable to do anything else but stare at them.
For fuck’s sake—are they scuba divers? Are they ever going to come up for air?
It seemed like they heard you, finally parting, and it seemed that your boyfriend—or rather, ex-boyfriend, and if he’s so lucky, not late-boyfriend—spotted you first, his face going pale the second he saw you.
You scoffed.
They were doing this in a public place, and he had the gall to look surprised when you managed to spot them?
And then you felt it—the emotion that managed to crush through all of the others like a tidal wave, filling your body and clouding your thoughts. Rage. Fury.
You spun on your heel, barreling through the crowd toward the door.
“(Y/N)!” Your boyfriend called behind you, but you ignored him, sidestepping another patron as you charged and left him in your dust. It seemed like your anger had managed to blur the edges of your vision, and you collided with another student.
“Watch it—!”
Theodore Nott stood at six feet tall, towering over you more than your boyfriend ever had, jawline so sharp it could cut you—if not for that, his words certainly would. He glared down at you with stormy eyes that you couldn’t quite call blue but couldn’t call green.
You heard your boyfriend call your name once more as he approached you, and it seemed the desperation on your face was apparent to someone as apathetic as Theodore, who only raised a brow at you.
And in that instant, you made one of the most reckless decisions of your life.
Your hands curled around the lapels of his jacket before you could even command your body to do otherwise, yanking Theodore toward you and leaning up on your tiptoes to close the gap, pressing your lips to his.
A split second passed, and your head was spinning, body coming back to life.
Have I lost my mind? I’ve just been utterly humiliated by my boyfriend and my best friend. Now I’ve kissed one of the notorious snakes—without consent, no less—which makes me literal scum. He’s going to push me away any second, probably hex me, and make this humiliation ten times worse.
All those self-deprecating thoughts came to a silent standstill the second his arm looped around your waist, another hand cupping your cheek as you tilted his head to deepen the kiss.
The moment stretched, every second dragging out as if the world itself had decided to pause and watch. His lips moved against yours with a deliberate, almost teasing patience that sent a shiver down your spine, making your knees threaten to buckle. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the subtle press of his chest against yours, grounding you even as your mind screamed in disbelief.
Your hands tightened on his jacket, nails digging in slightly as if anchoring yourself to reality. Your mind screamed in protest, reminding you of every reason this was reckless—this was Theodore Nott, the last person you should be doing this with, and yet… you couldn’t stop.
The kiss was urgent, hungry, but also careful, as though he could sense the storm raging inside you and wanted to meet it without drowning you completely.
Finally, reality slammed back into you. You broke the kiss with a gasp, eyes still closed, trying to catch your breath after being so violently knocked out of orbit by a kiss you could only describe as divine.
When your eyes met his again, you were rendered speechless.
Oh, you better admit yourself into St. Mungo's tonight, you imbecile.
“Oh my—uh… I—I shouldn’t have—I'm sorry—” You stammered, tearing your hands from his jacket and stepping back. Embarrassment burned hotter than your anger had moments ago.
You swallowed, shamefully looking down as you moved toward the exit once again, "I'm gonna go—"
Your voice trailed off, choked by a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. You wanted to disappear, to vanish from the pub before anyone could process what had just happened. Before he could.
You pivoted toward the door, picturing yourself in the cool night air where your face might finally stop burning.
But before you could take another step, a firm hand caught your wrist. You froze, the warmth of his grip rooting you in place.
“If you leave first,” He said, his voice low and smooth, carrying that unmistakable edge of challenge, “you lose."
You didn't even know if your ex-boyfriend was still there, you had lost any awareness of your surroundings the second your lips met his.
Your eyes widened, and you stammered, “I… I’m not… I don’t—”
The corner of his lips twitched as though he was fighting a smile at your pathetic state, a teasing glint in those stormy eyes that made your knees threaten to give out again. “Why don’t you… join me and my friends?”
You swallowed, heart hammering, and glanced back at your ex. He was still standing there, awkward, flustered, clearly humiliated. It was… satisfying, in a small, dark way.
If you left now, before they did, it would look like you had something to be ashamed of. You didn’t deserve that.
They didn’t deserve to enjoy the rest of their night undisturbed. They deserved to squirm in their seats, to feel the weight of your stare drilling holes into them. They deserved their night ruined. Their lives ruined.
“…Fine,” you whispered, almost against your will. Your voice trembled with a mixture of exasperation and something dangerously close to thrill. “But only for a little while.”
Theo’s grin widened, that teasing glint in his eyes sharpening. “Oh… I don’t know,” he said, placing his hand on the curve of your waist, leading you to the table that had been taken by the other Slytherins, "We can be quite a fun bunch."
Theodore guided you through the Hog’s Head, arm casually looped through yours, like you’d belonged there all along. You couldn’t help but notice the way the pub-goers glanced at you, whispers flickering through the crowd. Your stomach fluttered with a mix of nerves, shame, and something you didn’t dare name.
When you reached the table, his friend's eyes immediately lit up. They were lounging casually, drinks in hand, and the smirk on Blaise’s face made it clear that they had clearly witnessed your make out session.
"Well, well, well, looks like someone’s been busy." Mattheo drawled, his wicked grin hidden half behind his glass as Theodore pulled out a chair for you and then slid his own closer.
It took everything in you to not look so startled when he wrapped his hand around your shoulder, trying to hide your incredulousness at how seamless this act managed to come to Theo.
You lowered your gaze from Mattheo's who was set on staring at you with an ear-to-ear grin like an imp, only to catch Theo’s eye—he seemed to read your thoughts instantly and, without missing a beat, chucked a fry at his best mate, "Stop ogling my girl, you prat."
“Ohhh,” Mattheo drawled, leaning back in his chair, "She's your girl now? That's the first I've heard of this."
Draco snorted, smirking at Theo, “Yeah, Theo, since when? You never mentioned a girlfriend before.”
Before you could even sputter, Theo’s calm, controlled voice cut through the teasing. “Yeah,” He said effortlessly, as if stating the weather, “We’re dating.”
You froze. What?! You were still reeling from the kiss, and now he was lying with such ease that it made your brain stutter. You were so caught off-guard, so out of your comfort zone that you couldn't even say anything.
He didn’t even flinch, "And we're not first-year girls that I should tell you everything."
Enzo let out a low whistle. “Wow… Theo, good for you, man."
You felt like your chest had been sucker-punched. How could he lie so effortlessly? So convincingly? You were still fumbling over your own thoughts, heart racing from the kiss, and he was… untouchable.
Theodore leaned slightly closer, voice low enough that only you could hear. “Relax. Just play along. Trust me.”
Trust him? You barely knew him. And the two people you’d trusted most in the world had just ripped you to shreds.
This was a bad idea.
But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. Because Theodore was right—if you left, your ex would see it, and you’d lose.
So you stayed. You plastered a grin on your face and let Theodore enjoy himself with his friends. You tried your best not to glance at the betrayers—refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing they occupied even a single neuron in your brain.
When tears threatened to prick your eyes, you bit the inside of your cheek hard and reached for Theo’s drink, taking a slow sip to ease the tightness in your throat.
Thankfully, it seemed they weren’t as shameless as you’d feared. They looked too uncomfortable to enjoy themselves, shifting in their seats, eyes flicking toward you before darting away. The sight of them leaving some time later brought you a sliver of satisfaction. However, that was made very bitter at the realization that they were leaving together.
You held out for another twenty minutes before finally turning to Theodore with a tired smile. “Walk me back?”
He didn’t hesitate. He stood immediately, earning a chorus of jeers from his friends about being a “simp” who couldn’t let his girl walk alone. Theodore just flipped them off before guiding you out with a warm hand at the small of your back.
The walk was quiet. Snowflakes gathered in your hair and clung to your coat, the world muted by the thick white dusting over Hogsmeade. Then, halfway down the path, you stopped abruptly.
Theodore turned to you, “What’s wrong?”
You stared down at the snow-covered road, tears burning at the edges of your vision, “She’s back at my dorm.”
You pressed the heel of your gloved palms into your eyes, your chest trembling with the sobs you’d been holding in all night, “And if she’s not… then I’ll be left wondering if she's with him for the rest of the night.”
Theodore sighed, steering you toward a small alcove behind the pub. It overlooked the rest of Hogsmeade, quiet and dim under the glow of lanterns. You sank down against the fence, not caring about the wet snow soaking through your clothes, hiding your face in your knees as the dam finally broke.
The image of them at the pub replayed relentlessly behind your closed eyelids, no matter how much you willed it away.
They’d done it so unabashedly, so arrogantly—her practically in his lap. Comfortable enough to humiliate you like that in public meant it couldn’t have been the first time.
Your mind reeled back to every time they’d both been absent, every “we just ran into each other in the hallway” excuse, every occasion they’d been “too busy” to join you in Hogsmeade.
They’d done this where other students could see. Had no one thought to tell you? Did your other friends just… choose to stay silent? Were they ever really your friends at all?
Theodore didn’t say a word. He just stood beside you in silence—until the soft clink of his lighter broke through your thoughts. You looked up, face blotchy and eyes raw, just in time to see him take a long drag from a cigarette, the smoke stark against the winter air.
“Can I have one?” You asked.
"No," He glanced down at you, “Take it from me, sweetheart—once you start, it’s very hard to stop.”
You exhaled sharply, lowering your forehead back to your knees. You tried to breathe deep, to steady yourself, to make sense of any of it, “What good even are you?”
There was another beat of silence.
“I’m sorry,” He said, and you looked up again, “I sprang that whole thing on you. If you don’t want to, I’ll take it back. Make it seem like I was the one mistaken. You don’t need to worry.”
“Why did you do it?” You asked quietly, “You could’ve easily pushed me away. I mean, I was the one at fault there.”
“Because,” He said, taking another slow drag, “you looked desperate.”
You huffed a humorless laugh, “I’m swooning.”
Theo’s mouth twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. “Besides,” He added, tilting his head so the dim light from the pub hit the sharp cut of his jaw, “I wasn’t about to let them see you run off like you’d done something wrong.”
You blinked at him, caught between wanting to roll your eyes and wanting to thank him, “So you just… decided to announce to half the school that we’re dating?”
“It’s better this way,” He said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Rumors spread fast. By Monday, everyone will think you’ve moved on—and not just moved on, but traded up.” His gaze flicked to you, calm but deliberate, “Let them choke on it.”
Your throat tightened, but this time it wasn’t from wanting to cry.
"And what do you get out of this arrangement?"
Theodore glanced at you through the thin curl of smoke leaving his lips. His expression didn’t flicker, but there was a spark of something behind his eyes—mischief, maybe, or calculation.
“Let’s just say…” He exhaled slowly, the smoke catching in the cold air like ghostly ribbons, “…I have my reasons.”
You swallowed and then sighed, watching as your breath became visible in the cold air, tears now dry on your cheeks, “I want them to pay for it.”
Theodore smirked, the corner of his mouth curling like he’d just been waiting to hear those words, "And so they shall."
You pushed open the door to your dorm, ready to collapse onto your bed and pretend the last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened. After talking with Theodore for a while, you’d waited until well past curfew to sneak back into Hogwarts, hoping your ex-boyfriend and ex–best friend had either gone to sleep separately or she was holed up in his dorm.
Honestly, at this point, you didn’t care where they were or what they were doing. They’d been dead to you long before you saw them at the pub tonight.
All you wanted was a bed. Sleep. Silence.
Theodore had still given you the option to change your mind about him — told you he’d take the blame if you wanted to pretend you didn’t know each other. But you were too wrung out from crying, too hollow to think. Your body was ready to collapse the second your face hit the pillow.
Except the moment you stepped inside, sleep vanished.
She was there.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed, biting her thumbnail — that nervous habit of hers you hated that you knew.
Your mind started firing questions faster than you could breathe. Was she nervous? Guilty? Regretful? Did she feel anything at all?
Her head snapped up.
“Hey,” She said softly, eyes wide with something dangerously close to guilt, “Can we talk?”
You froze. Part of you wanted to say yes. She’d been your best friend, the person you’d cared about more than anything. You didn’t want to lose her.
Your heart almost opened the door.
Your mind slammed it shut.
“No.”
She blinked, flinching like you’d slapped her, “Please, just—”
“I said no.” You moved past her toward your bed, shrugging off your coat, “Whatever you think you need to say, save it. I don’t care.”
“(Y/N), please! I didn’t mean for it to happen—”
You laughed—sharp, humorless, “You didn’t mean to kiss my boyfriend? How exactly does that work? You trip and fall face-first onto his mouth?”
Her jaw twitched. Then she scoffed, “Fine. If you’re gonna act like you’re so perfect, maybe remember you’re not exactly a saint either.”
Your head snapped up, “Excuse me?”
She crossed her arms, chin tilting higher, “We all saw your little show with Nott earlier. Don’t think you can sit there acting holier-than-thou when you cheated too.”
Heat surged under your skin.
“What I was doing with Nott is none of your business. But don’t you dare pretend that makes you right. You are the lowest, ugliest, skankiest slag I’ve ever met in my life.”
“That’s rich,” She spat, “Coming from the slag who spread her legs for the first guy she saw. Nott probably thought you were easy, didn’t he?”
You took a step forward. Then another. She backed up.
“Theodore has nothing to do with this, and neither does anyone else. The person I’m pissed at is you.” Your voice shook now, not from fear, but fury, “You were supposed to be my best friend! How could you betray me like this? Humiliate me in front of everybody? Go behind my back? I would never have done this to you. I wouldn’t have even thought about it!”
With each sentence, you jabbed a finger into her chest, until you finally shoved her, the force surprising even you.
She didn’t back down.
“You deserved it, didn’t you? Acting all high and mighty — then turning around and doing the same thing.”
Something in your chest cracked. You looked at her, really looked, and realized you didn’t recognize her anymore.
You laughed, breathless and disbelieving, “The only difference between us is I didn’t throw away seven years of friendship for some asshole who can only think with his dick. You think he won’t turn around and do the same thing to you that he did to me? You’re deluded.”
One more shove.
Then you straightened, voice quiet but lethal.
“If you ever approach me again, I’ll kill you. Until then?” You took a step back, smirking like she was something you’d scrape off your shoe, “Have fun with my sloppy seconds, slut.”
The next morning, the corridors were alive with the usual rush of students heading to the Great Hall, but your thoughts were still tangled in last night’s chaos. You tightened your coat around you, trying to focus on anything but the memory of their faces, when a familiar voice cut through the din.
“(Y/N)!” Your ex-boyfriend called, catching up just as you reached the entrance to the Great Hall. His face was flushed, a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and confusion, “What the hell was that yesterday?”
You froze for a heartbeat, then let a sardonic smile creep across your face, “Oh, that? I thought your tongue down my best friend’s throat was a pretty clear indication that we were both seeing other people.”
His face burned red, guilt and humiliation flickering across his features. You barely felt any satisfaction—what you felt yesterday had been raw, scorching, and unshakable. This was just a pale echo.
“Look, I—” He began, his voice tight, “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“Didn’t mean to cheat on me with my best friend? Or didn’t mean for me to find out?” You let each word land like a slap.
His jaw clenched, his gaze hard, “You’re one to talk, acting like you didn’t leave with Theodore Nott of all people yesterday.”
You tilted your head, cool and deliberate, “I did. So? That doesn’t give you the moral high ground to lecture me. If you think you’re the victim here… think again.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a dangerous murmur, “Wait—are you serious? Are you actually—”
And then you saw him. Theodore Nott, leaning against the wall with that impossibly calm expression, arms crossed, watching like the world had paused for his amusement.
Your chest tightened, but you squared your shoulders. “Yes,” You said clearly, deliberately loud enough for both of them to hear, “I am dating Theodore Nott.”
The color drained from his face, the clever retorts dying on his tongue. You didn’t give him a chance to recover.
Theo’s smirk sharpened, eyes flicking between you and him, silently daring him to challenge your words, to give him a reason to rearrange his sorry mug this fine morning.
You started walking, leaving your ex behind, and Theodore fell naturally into step beside you. His presence was calm, confident, infuriatingly infuriating—and comforting at the same time.
“You promised, Nott,” You murmured, your voice low and dangerous, “We’re going to make them pay.”
Theo’s grin widened, the corner of his mouth lifting into that familiar, teasing arc. “Oh, don’t worry, mia cara,” He said smoothly, eyes glinting with mischief and you felt your ears get hot, “We're gonna make them regret ever messing with you.”
Side by side, you stepped into the Great Hall. Whispers began immediately, flickering through the crowd like wildfire. And as the students’ eyes turned toward you, you realized—the game had officially begun.
The chatter of students filled the Charms classroom as you stepped inside, your nerves buzzing the way they always did when eyes might follow you. You hesitated in the doorway for a fraction too long, scanning the rows of desks. Usually, your spot was second row, left side—the place you always shared with your best friend. But now? The thought of sitting there made your stomach twist. Should you take it anyway, claim your ground, and glare if she had the audacity to join you?
Before you could decide, a warm hand brushed against the small of your back.
“Over here.” Theodore murmured, voice low but commanding. He didn’t give you room to argue, guiding you through the rows with a confidence that ignored every curious glance that followed. You ended up in the second-to-last row, his chosen territory.
You dropped your bag to the floor and slid into the seat he indicated, shooting him a quick, reluctant smile. Almost instantly, you became acutely aware of the heat of his knee brushing yours beneath the desk.
Theodore leaned back in his chair with practiced ease, stretching his arm just far enough to rest casually along the back of yours. “That’s better,” He said, deliberately louder now, his voice carrying through the classroom. His smirk deepened, “Need my girl next to me.”
The effect was immediate. The two Hufflepuff girls in front of you whipped their heads around under the pretense of adjusting their books. They tried to be subtle, glancing sideways from the corners of their eyes, but the way their shoulders pressed together and their whispers turned sharp made it obvious who they were talking about.
Theo noticed too. His smirk widened, one eyebrow arching as if to say exactly as planned.
You resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs, ducking your head instead as heat crept up your neck. Subtle was not in Theodore Nott’s vocabulary, apparently.
Your heart jumped when the door opened again and she walked in—your ex–best friend, sliding into the classroom like nothing had happened. She looked tired, as she always did on mornings like this; Charms was the earliest class on your schedule, and she never managed breakfast before dragging herself out of bed. No, instead she always smuggled in a handful of Honeydukes’ cockroach clusters, nibbling on them through class.
And sure enough, there they were, sitting in a paper bag on her desk.
Your lips curled into a knowing smirk.
How could she be so careless? She knew you better than anyone—had known every one of your tricks, your habits, your moods. She should have known you wouldn’t leave her unpunished.
You waited until Professor Flitwick had begun explaining wand movement on the board, until the room was full of the faint swish of quills and the scratching of parchment. Then, when her hand dipped into the bag, you flicked your wand under the table. A silent transfiguration. Smooth, clean, precise.
She popped the cluster into her mouth. Chewed once.
And then froze.
Her eyes widened just a fraction, and then she gagged, clapping a hand over her lips. You bit down on your own smile as, with a sharp cough, she spat onto her desk—not a melted chocolate, but a fat, wriggling cockroach that skittered across the wood.
The room erupted.
Screams, laughter, the scrape of chairs as people leapt away. Someone shouted, “Bloody hell, they’re moving!” as two more clusters in the bag twitched and burst into chittering, crawling life. Your ex-best friend shoved her desk back in panic, her face pale as the cockroaches spilled out in a wave across the floor.
You didn’t react like the rest of them, watching as chaos struck and she turned green in the face, barely able to breathe. You lifted your feet and bag from the ground, careful to avoid all the cockroaches that seemed to multiply from her bag—the replenishing charm you cast on the bag doing wonders.
Theodore didn’t even glance at the teacher; instead, his attention was entirely on you, on the way your chest rose and fell, eyes still sharp, just barely contained.
With a single fluid motion, he pulled your chair a little closer, resting your legs in his lap. You froze, breath hitching, heat crawling up your spine—but there was no time for that. The room still hummed with whispers and laughter, and you could feel every pair of eyes glancing back at the scene.
“Elegant work, sweetheart.” He murmured low, the words meant only for you. His fingers brushed lightly along your ankle, light enough to be intimate, heavy enough to claim attention.
You suddenly understood why in the olden days showing ankle was considered scandalous, judging by the set of shivers Theodore's thumb against your ankle had sent up your spine.
“Detention! For eating in class and causing this disruption! Minus ten points!” Professor Flitwick’s squeaky voice rang across the room.
You fought the grin tugging at your lips, eyes sliding back to your former best friend, who sat frozen, cheeks burning with humiliation.
Oh, poor girl.
That pitiful, shocked face only made you hate her more.
The library was quiet, the soft rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of quills filling the otherwise hushed room. You were bent over a stack of textbooks, notes scattered across the polished wooden table, eyes straining to keep focus as the afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows.
You were so absorbed in your work that you didn’t notice the shadow falling across your page. A soft, familiar warmth pressed against the back of your chair, and a low chuckle reached your ears.
“Can’t study forever, you know.” A deep voice murmured.
Before you could turn around, a pair of lips pressed gently against the top of your head. A small, contented sigh followed as Theodore rested his chin lightly on your shoulder.
“Missed you, sweetheart.” He said softly, his words meant only for you, though the air between you carried them enough for nearby students to murmur.
You froze for a heartbeat, pencil hovering mid-note, then tilted your head slightly, allowing him the small indulgence. His hand slid to rest on yours, fingers brushing against your notes, grounding you in the moment.
A few whispers floated through the library, subtle but unmistakable: “Is that…?” “Theodore Nott and—” “Wow.”
The heat rose in your cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was the thrill of being seen with him, the quiet intimacy, the silent power you both held over anyone watching.
Especially the power it held over you.
You didn't know how he was able to touch you so intimately, pretend like you had a long history, hold you close and fake that look in his eye that made you feel like you were the center of his universe.
It was baffling.
Theodore rested his head for a moment longer before leaning back just enough to peer at your notes, “Though… you’re really focused, aren’t you? I’d almost feel guilty interrupting.”
You gave a small smile, eyes still on your parchment, “You could say that, yeah.”
He chuckled, nudging your shoulder gently with his own, “Then I’ll just keep you company… silently.”
And with that, he settled next to you, close enough that his warmth was constant, silent enough that you could still work—but every so often, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple or brushing a strand of hair from your face.
Then you sensed movement behind you. Glancing up, you caught sight of your ex and your former best friend sneaking into the room, eyes immediately locking on you and Theodore.
They didn’t just glance—they stiffened, shoulders squared, and suddenly it was like a performance. She leaned close to him, laughing a little too loudly, brushing against him in a way that screamed look at us, we’re happy, look at what you’re missing. Your ex mirrored her, puffing out his chest and whispering something that made her giggle.
It was painfully obvious—they wanted you to see them, to feel jealous, to react.
You didn’t.
Instead, you reached up, grabbed Theodore by the collar, and pulled him down into a deliberate, teasing kiss, letting them watch the undeniable spark between you. He responded immediately, moving his hand to your waist, deepening the kiss and cupping your cheek.
But of course, they weren’t going to give up that easily. Determined to “out-do” you, they moved to the far side of the library, your ex hugging her from behind and peppering kisses to her neck as she giggled. They ducked into the alcove at the back that was notorious for students fooling around.
Theodore raised a brow, lips curling into that maddeningly flirtatious smirk, leaning to press his lips to your ear, “What do you say, love? Feel like beating them at their own game? I’m sure we’d have a better time anyway.”
You chuckled, shaking your head, trying to ignore the heat crawling up your neck.
With a subtle glance toward the librarian’s desk, you caught Madam Pince’s attention. Quietly, you waved her over, corners of your mouth tugging into a grin.
“Oh, you love it.” You murmured, still holding his hand. You pointed to the bookshelf where they were hiding, leaning back with a sly grin.
What happened next was beautiful chaos.
A shriek echoed through the library—sharp, furious, unmistakably theirs. Madam Pince’s voice rang out, shrill and indignant: “What on earth are you two doing in here?!”
You and Theodore exchanged a glance and stifled laughter as you heard her yelling, her wand flashing to confiscate their belongings, and chasing them down the aisles, half-dressed and completely humiliated.
The whispers and stares of the other students only added to the spectacle. You suppressed another laugh as you watched points being deducted from their house records, their humiliation complete.
For now.
The stands were packed, the cold wind whipping your hair around your face as you and Theo leaned against the railing, watching the match unfold below. You watched as your ex’s team began collecting points, you and Mattheo booing their every move at the top of your lungs.
“YOU CALL THAT FLYING?!” Mattheo yelled, and you cupped your hands around your mouth, “MY GRANDMA CAN FLY BETTER THAN THAT!”
You coughed—cold air and screaming taking their toll—before a scarf was gently draped around your neck. You turned in surprise to see Theodore, not even looking at you, more intent on wrapping it carefully so it covered your ears and nose without smothering your mouth. When it proved impossible, he conceded and settled for placing a warming charm on you.
You smiled bashfully, hiding your pink cheeks in the scarf, “Thank you.”
“Anytime, bella.”
“Disgusting behavior in public.” Mattheo muttered under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from you.
Everything seemed normal—until the golden blur began acting strangely.
Even for a snitch, its movements were erratic. But this was worse than usual. It seemed to purposefully avoid the opposing team, darting exclusively toward your ex’s side. The match ground to a halt as the players floated to a stop, confusion spreading across the pitch. Madam Hooch called everyone together, frowning as she tried to assess the situation.
When the groundskeepers and referees inspected the field, the truth became clear: the snitch in play wasn’t real. Someone had swapped it.
Confusion rippled through the stands as whispers grew louder.
“Where’s the real Snitch?” The head referee demanded, scanning the players.
A quick locating spell revealed it immediately—tucked neatly in your ex’s bag, as if he had accidentally carried it with him. The real snitch sat there, innocently gleaming in the sunlight, waiting to be discovered.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Every eye in the stadium turned to him.
Your ex’s face drained of color, hands fumbling over the bag in shock. “I—I didn’t—!” He stammered.
But the damage was already done. The spectators murmured furiously, teammates muttering accusations, and whispers of “he cheated” began circulating instantly.
Theo leaned back against the railing, smirk spreading across his face, and whispered in your ear, “Are you enjoying the show, my love?”
You bit your lip and nodded, trying not to laugh aloud, and reached for his hand under the railing, giving it a subtle squeeze. No words were needed—the humiliation was working exactly as planned.
“Due to tampering with the snitch, it’s an automatic loss for Ravenclaw—Hufflepuff wins!” Madam Hooch announced, confirming the disaster.
“Another impeccable plan. I’m impressed,” Theo murmured in your ear, voice teasing, “You make it look easy.”
The crisp Hogsmeade air nipped at your cheeks as you stepped off the train, Theodore’s hand sliding easily into yours. The village was bustling with students, their laughter echoing over the cobblestone streets, but all you could feel was the warmth of his grip and the soft pull of his presence beside you.
Theodore was actually the one to suggest that you guys spend the day together. At first, you were going to opt out, feeling bad that the last couple weeks had been revolving around you and wanting him to get some time with his friends but he insisted, saying that you couldn't spend your Hogsmeade apart or people would talk.
You couldn't argue with that.
But even then you found yourself looking forward to it.
Despite this being only a temporary arrangement with no feelings behind it, Theodore was actually great company. He was thoughtful and considerate, he liked hearing you talk and a quality people didn't really appreciate a lot was that he was hilarious.
You couldn't go five minutes without him prompting a belly laugh from you.
You paused in front of a small shop, your eyes catching a delicate necklace in the display window. A thin chain with a tiny, intricate charm glinting in the sunlight—it was beautiful. Your breath caught.
“Oh… that’s gorgeous.” You murmured, pressing your palm lightly against the glass.
Theodore leaned over, following your gaze. His eyes softened when he saw the necklace, “You like it?”
“I do… but…” Your voice trailed off as you peeked at the price tag. Your eyes widened, “but I do not love the price tag.”
The bell above the shop door jingled as you both entered. You wandered near the counter, trying to convince yourself it was just a dream. Theodore approached the shopkeeper, exchanged a few words, and before you could even process what was happening, the necklace was being handed to you in a small, neatly wrapped box.
You stared at it, then at him, “No… no, you can’t. This is way too expensive. I can’t—”
“It’s only ten Galleons.” He said, clearly perplexed by your reaction.
“Only… ten Galleons?” You repeated, your voice rising slightly in surprise, “That’s… that’s like… my entire pocket money for the next two months!”
Theodore smirked, as if your shock were the most amusing thing he’d seen all day, “Yes, and? You’re my girl. You like it, you get it. What’s the problem?”
The problem was you weren't really his girl.
So, why was he going out of his way to behave like you were? This was a question that had stayed in your head since that first night in Hogsmeade. What was he getting out of this? Why would he be so readily enthusiastic in your plan when it was clear you were the only one truly benefitting from this?
When you met his eyes again, stormy blue that looked green in some lights, the questioned died on your tongue.
Because whatever the reason, you weren't sure you wanted him to stop.
You stared at him, half in disbelief, half in awe, “You—really? You’re just… giving it to me?”
You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief as you let him fasten the necklace around your neck. The charm glinted against your chest, and the warmth of the gesture left you grinning.
When you turned to meet his eyes again, you smiled bashfully up at him before leaning in to press a soft kiss against his cheek.
Theo froze in surprise the second your lips touched his cold skin, and the sight of his startled expression made something warm bloom in your stomach.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t done more than that—in fact, in your persistence to prove to your exes that you were well past moved on, you’d taken to making out with Theo in nearly every public space Hogwarts had to offer. And if it wasn’t that, it was the way he always had an arm around you, casual and possessive, no matter where you went.
So the fact that something as small as a cheek kiss could knock him off guard made you smile. Made you feel like all the intimacy you shared wasn’t just a front. Wasn’t all fake.
“Thank you.” You whispered.
You settled cross-legged on the soft carpet of the Slytherin common room, leaning back against Theodore’s legs as he sat comfortably on the couch. His hands were busy in your hair, while his scarf lay draped across your lap. Carefully, you threaded the fringe at the end of the scarf, showing him how to braid it so he could mimic the motion on your hair.
“So then you take this left strand and bring it over—it becomes the new center strand—and then you bring the new right strand and bring it over.” You explained, feeling the occasional tug on your hair. You immediately noticed the braid slipping.
“It keeps slipping… your hair is too greasy.” He muttered, brow furrowed.
You scoffed, feigning offense, “I think you mean… smooth and silky.”
“This isn’t working.” He grumbled, letting go of your hair and starting over, separating it into three neat parts.
“Baby, this is the easiest braid ever. You’re going to faint when I teach you about a Dutch braid.” You teased, tugging gently on a strand to demonstrate.
Before he could respond, the door creaked open and Mattheo sauntered in, smirk plastered across his face. “Ohhh, what do we have here?” He drawled, “(Y/N) (L/N), Hogwarts’ first houseless student considering we never see her in her own common room, and Theodore Nott, her loyal… dog.”
He then grimaced at the sight of the two of you, “Can y’all not do this in a public space? Some of us think the sight of happy couples is enough to induce projectile vomiting.”
Theo didn’t flinch, though the corner of his mouth tugged into a small smirk. You felt a small thrill as his thumb grazed the space under your ear, leading to your neck, grounding you in the moment.
You raised a brow, voice dripping with mock menace, “You really wanna piss me off when I’m at prime height to punch you in the balls?”
Mattheo rolled his eyes and collapsed onto the couch, still grinning, “You’re coming to Theo’s birthday next Friday, right? Considering you practically live here.”
You hesitated, unsure, “I… I don’t know. I mean—”
Theo leaned over you, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “You'll be there right?” He murmured, voice low and coaxing, the simple gesture making your chest tighten, "Please?"
You bit back a smile, looking up at him, and realized there was no way you could say no—not when he asked like that.
You stepped into the Slytherin common room, barely able to hear your own thoughts over the bass that rattled the walls. It thudded deep in your chest, vibrating through your bones as you descended the staircase to the dungeons.
The room was packed, bodies moving together in a blur beneath the strobing lights, faces indistinguishable in the chaos. But your eyes found Theo instantly. He was surrounded by his friends, laughing at something Mattheo said, until his gaze landed on you.
His entire expression shifted—lit up like you were the only thing in the room. Without a second thought, he left them behind and crossed the room to meet you at the base of the stairs.
His eyes swept over your little black dress, the necklace he gifted you resting prettily on your collarbones, and his hands found their way to your waist—low, possessive, warm against the thin fabric,
"Che bella, carissima."
"Happy birthday, Theo." You murmured, your palms resting lightly against his chest.
"Grazie, dolcezza." He replied, voice low and smooth as he leaned in. His mouth met yours without hesitation, your fingers sliding into his hair. Lip gloss smudged against his skin, and the artificial taste of lollipop lippie flooded both your mouths.
If you hadn’t been so caught up in the kiss, maybe you would’ve questioned it. Why you were kissing Theo when neither your boyfriend nor your best friend was anywhere in sight. Why you were feeding into the rumor mill in the shadowy corner of the common room instead of center stage where everyone could see.
Maybe you would’ve wondered why you shaved your legs, wore the dress that made your breasts look perfect, took extra time curling your hair, and reached for the expensive perfume you saved for special occasions.
But with Theo’s fingers brushing bare skin along your spine—thanks to the low back of your dress—those thoughts didn’t stand a chance.
You pulled away, laughing softly at the sight of glittery gloss smeared across his lips. You tried to wipe it away with your thumbs, but that proved nearly impossible when he kept catching your fingers in quick kisses.
"I have a present for you." You whispered, revealing the small gift bag you’d kept tucked behind your back. Theo pressed a kiss to your temple before taking it, digging through the tissue paper until he pulled out a steel flask—cool, heavy, and etched with intricate designs like something stolen from an ancient temple.
When he felt the liquid slosh inside, he unscrewed the cap and took a sip, brows lifting in surprise when the familiar taste hit his tongue.
"I cast a replenishing spell on it," You explained, "When it runs out, it’ll refill on its own."
His lips curved in a slow smile, still holding your gaze.
"I was just thinking about that day you said you’d miss my cocoa," You added, "So…I thought you’d appreciate it."
Theo chuckled quietly, looking down at the flask with an expression you couldn’t quite read—something deeper than amusement.
"Do you…not like it?" You asked after a beat.
He shook his head immediately, "I adore it, pretty girl."
Before you could respond, Mattheo’s voice cut through the music.
"If you guys are done ASSAULTING OUR EYEBALLS—" You both rolled your eyes in perfect unison, "—IT’S TIME FOR CAKE!"
You followed the crowd toward the long table where the cake waited, candles flickering under the dim lights. You expected to melt into the group somewhere between Enzo and Blaise, but before you could even drift in that direction, Theo’s hand shot out, curling firmly around your wrist.
“Where do you think you’re going, Dolcezza?” He murmured, tugging you to stand at his side—his spot—right in front of the cake.
“Theo,” You hissed under your breath, “it’s your birthday, I should be—”
“You're exactly where you should be.” He cut you off smoothly, eyes glinting in the candlelight. His hand didn't lift from your waist, keeping you pinned to his side, the faint smell of smoke and cocoa clinging to him like a second skin.
You didn’t have time to argue before Blaise slid over, holding out a small slip of parchment and a quill, “Here you go, mate."
Your brows furrowed, “What’s this?”
Theo took the quill without hesitation, his head bending low as he scribbled something on the paper in quick, sure strokes.
“It’s an old Nott thing,” Mattheo explained, “Birthday boy writes down a wish, folds it, and keeps it with him until it comes true. You’re not supposed to tell anyone what it is.”
Theo didn’t even glance up, just folded the parchment neatly, tucking it into the inner pocket of his jacket with deliberate care.
“And you keep it on you?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.
“Always,” Theo said simply. His gaze met yours, sharp enough to make your stomach twist, “A wish doesn’t work if you let it out too soon.”
You should’ve looked away, but there was something about the weight of his stare—like whatever he’d written down was more dangerous than anyone else in the room realized.
“Now,” Mattheo groaned, breaking the tension, “can we please sing so I can eat some damn cake?"
You laughed, but your mind was already racing, replaying the way Theo’s lips had curved just slightly when he’d sealed the parchment away.
And for the first time, you wondered if that wish had anything to do with you.
The common room was a haze of dancing bodies, flashing lights, and the faint tang of cider and punch. You’d just come back from the corridor with Theo, the warmth of his hand still lingering on your waist, when Mattheo leaned over with a mischievous grin.
“You need to try this,” He said, holding out a tall glass filled with a neon-colored drink. At the bottom, a small, bright candy rested like a hidden treasure, “It’s our latest cocktail—sweet and sour. The sweetness of the drink with the sour candy at the bottom is fucking good.”
You raised an eyebrow, examining the glass that looked radioactive, "This looks cursed."
"It's good, baby," Theo said smoothly, eyes sparkling as he handed you the glass, “You should give it a try.”
With a shrug and a laugh, you took a sip. At first, it was sweet, almost pleasant. Then your tongue hit the candy, and your eyes widened in shock. Your face scrunched up immediately.
“Oh—oh my god,” You choked out, spitting it back a little, "This is awful! I feel like I'm sucking on a lemon!"
Theo chuckled low, leaning closer, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the glass. “Give it here.” He murmured, voice teasing.
You held the candy between your teeth, letting him tilt your head and take it into his mouth. The kiss that followed was slow, teasing, and intimate, the world around you fading as he skillfully removed the candy without breaking the connection between your lips. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling naturally like it does whenever you kiss.
When he finally pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours, his eyes shone with playful delight, "You're crazy," He said, swishing the candy around in his mouth, "This is delicious."
"You two are disgusting." Mattheo muttered again, shaking his head.
You’d slipped out into the quieter corridor for a moment’s reprieve. The cool dungeon air was a relief after the heat of the crowd.
You were seated on one of the stairs, catching your breath, when footsteps echoed down the hall. You didn’t turn, but the scent of Theo hit your senses the moment he draped his jacket around your shoulders and settled beside you.
“Hi.” You murmured, leaning your head down to rest on your knees, offering a small, tired smile.
“Hi. You alright?”
You nodded, “Just a little tipsy. I needed some air.”
“Oh, I know just what to do about that.” He teased, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the flask you had gifted him. You chuckled as he opened it, handing it to you, steam curling into the cold air. You took a few sips, letting the warmth spread through you.
“When I said I was going to miss your cocoa,” He began, a hint of mischief in his voice, “I didn’t mean you should give me a lifetime supply.”
Your brows furrowed, a pang of worry settling in your chest. Did he not like the present?
"I don’t want the flask if it means you won’t be around to share it with me,” He said softly, leaning closer so only you could hear, “I’ve always just wanted you."
You took a sharp inhale, your heart beginning to pound against your ribcage.
"Are—Are you being serious?"
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and held something out between two fingers—a folded slip of parchment, worn at the edges, looking as though it might crumble if handled too roughly.
You frowned, “What’s this?”
“My birthday wish from last year.” He said simply.
You blinked, “Won’t giving it to me mean it won’t come true?”
His lips curved into that maddening, calm smile, “Take a look.”
You hesitated, then unfolded the paper. The ink was slightly smudged, but the words were unmistakable:
I wish for (Y/N) to notice me.
Your stomach flipped in disbelief, “Theo…”
“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”
The air seemed to thin around you, your pulse loud in your ears, “You… you’re serious?”
He nodded, “I’ve felt this way for a long time. I thought last year would finally be the year I made my move, but then you started dating him, and I thought I lost my chance.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You whispered.
“I was ecstatic when you finally turned your attention to me that night. Not the way I wanted at first, maybe, but I was never going to let that chance get away from me.”
You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, your chest tightening with a mix of disbelief and relief. Theo’s eyes were locked on yours, calm and steady, but filled with something so raw it made your heart thrum.
Your hands trembled slightly as you reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his face, fingers lingering at his jaw. “So… all of this—” you gestured between the two of you, “—the fake dating, the kissing, the… everything… it wasn’t just to get back at them?”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head, “No. That part was fun, I’ll admit. But it wasn’t the real reason I wanted to be close to you.” His hand slid over yours, palm warm against yours, grounding you, “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for longer than you can imagine.”
Your heart lurched, a mixture of relief and longing flooding through you, “Theo…”
He leaned closer, forehead resting against yours, voice just above a whisper, “So, what do you say? No more pretending. No more games. Just… us.”
Something inside you broke—years of tension, uncertainty, and longing unraveling in a single heartbeat. You cupped his face in your hands, leaning into him fully, “Okay,” You breathed, “Just us.”
His grin widened, a triumphant glint in his stormy eyes, and he kissed you—slow, deep, and deliberate, every touch and press of his lips sealing the promise between you. No pretense, no lies. Just the two of you, finally, fully together.
The two of you stayed there for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the distant thrum of the party fading into nothing. The world had narrowed to just you, just him, and the long-awaited start of something neither of you wanted to hide ever again.
Bonus:
Breakfast in the Great Hall felt different that morning.
You’d think that after months of this routine with Theo, another morning spent at his side wouldn’t feel so significant. But it did. Everything felt sharper, warmer. You didn’t feel like you had to prove anything anymore. You didn’t feel like you had to put on a show. The hand holding yours was hidden beneath the table, but you didn’t care if anyone saw—or if they didn’t. It didn’t matter anymore.
And yet, despite everything shifting, you and Theo were still the same—falling into that easy rhythm, voices low as you traded quiet jokes. Only now, you noticed the way it felt different. How intimate it was when Theo’s gaze lingered not just on your eyes but flickered, unconsciously, down to your lips. How he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, even in the middle of the bustling Hall.
How had you missed all the signs before?
Theo was brushing a crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb when the bliss cracked.
“Everyone!”
The word boomed too loud, slicing through the clatter of cutlery and low chatter. Your entire body stiffened before you even turned around. Of course. Him.
Your ex stood in the aisle, puffed up with self-importance, chest thrown back like he’d just mounted a stage. He had that smug gleam in his eyes, the kind that screamed he’d practiced this speech in the mirror ten times over.
“I think it’s time you all knew the truth about Theodore Nott and (Y/N) (L/N).” He announced, every syllable dripping with fake triumph. He cut a sharp look at you, then Theo, then back to the sea of students now staring.
The Hall quieted, curiosity winning out. Even the Gryffindors craned their necks, waiting for drama.
“They’ve only been pretending to date,” He declared, letting the word hang in the air, “To make me jealous.”
His voice swelled with self-satisfaction, like he’d just solved some grand mystery.
Your hand tightened around Theo's.
“You don’t have to keep pretending just to get back at me. I get it. I was angry too when we ended, but—” He paused, putting on his most magnanimous smile, “I’ll forgive you. I’ll take you back.”
The silence that followed was… brutal. Half a beat too long.
Slowly, you let your gaze drift—not at him, but across the Hall, to where his so-called new love sat, her expression crumbling as her boyfriend publicly begged for you.
A smirk ghosted across your lips, satisfaction unfurling in your chest. I warned her, you thought. You told her he’d betray her the same way he’d betrayed you. You’d just assumed he’d run to someone new. But no—he’d come crawling right back. Pathetic. Maybe you really were just too good to forget.
A ripple of laughter broke out along the Gryffindor table. Somewhere down the line, a Ravenclaw girl snorted so hard pumpkin juice sprayed out of her nose. Even some of the Slytherins traded incredulous looks, smirks curling as if to say, is he serious?
"He has officially lost the plot." Someone muttered loud enough for half the Hall to hear. Someone else chortled in response.
Your ex’s confident smile faltered.
Blaise Zabini leaned lazily on his elbows, his voice carrying just enough to cut through the hush. “Pretending?” He gestured toward you and Theo with a casual flick of his hand. “Mate, the whole castle’s been gagging on their PDA for months.”
Someone else piped up, "Yeah. If that’s pretend, then they deserve Oscars. The way he looks at her—like she’s the only thing in the world—you’d have to be blind to miss it.”
You chuckled, dropping your gaze from the pathetic sight in front of you and turned back to your current boyfriend, who only smirked at you, though you could see the tenderness that lay underneath, "See? Everyone else could see I was gone for you before you did."
Bonus bonus: (Ten years later)
The day you first kissed Theodore Nott was arguably one of the worst days of your life, despite all the good that eventually came from it. The betrayal of seeing the person you loved cheat on you with your best friend was a wound so deep it had reshaped you.
Theo had always claimed he was glad he’d never experienced anything like it. Until the same thing happened to him.
“This is killing me,” He muttered, pacing the length of your shared bedroom like a man awaiting his execution. His hands dragged through his hair, his voice raw, “I hope you know that.”
Your throat tightened, but you forced an eyeroll, masking your sympathy with irritation, “Theo, it’s not that big of a deal. Will you stop getting your knickers twisted?”
He whirled on you, eyes blazing. “Not a big deal? Not a big—” He broke off, laughing bitterly, “You were so betrayed when this happened to you that you practically tore their lives apart. And now you expect me to just—what? Pretend I’m fine?”
You scoffed, folding your arms, “We are not comparing the biggest betrayal of my life with your daughter having a crush on Mattheo.”
The air went still.
Theo staggered back a step, like you’d struck him. His face twisted in horror as his hand clutched his chest. “Don’t say it out loud.” He croaked, his voice breaking.
He looked genuinely wounded, muttering under his breath as though mourning a death, “I raised her better than this…She used to want to marry me!”
Before you could roll your eyes again, the shrill ding-dong of the doorbell cut through the tension.
Theo froze mid-step, every muscle in his body going taut. Slowly, his head turned toward the door like a man staring down a firing squad.
And then—
“HE’S HERE!”
Your three-year-old's shriek echoed down the hall, followed by the thunder of little feet pounding against the floorboards. She practically skidded into the foyer, hair wild, socks sliding on the wood as she lunged for the door.
“Bianca, you know you're not allowed to open the door without us!” Theo barked, but it was too late.
The door swung wide.
Mattheo Riddle stood there, casual, self-assured, hands shoved in his pockets. A faint, rakish smirk tugged at his lips. With the leather jacket and helmet under his arm, it was easy to see why your daughter was utterly smitten. Had you not known the fool he was during school, you might have been just as captivated.
“Hi.” He drawled, eyes immediately landing on his god-daughter.
“UNCLE MATTHEO!” Bianca squealed, launching herself into his arms without hesitation. He caught her with practiced ease, lifting and spinning her once before settling her on his hip.
Mattheo shifted her higher onto his hip, grinning like he owned the place, “And who’s my favorite girl?”
“Me!” She squealed, giggling as she buried her face into his shoulder.
Theo’s jaw clenched so tight you swore you heard it crack. His knuckles whitened at his sides, and he took one menacing step forward like he was about to snatch his daughter back by force.
Mattheo, utterly unbothered, tilted his head, smirk widening. “I see someone’s cranky.” He teased lightly, holding Bianca closer with a teasing flourish.
"(Y/N) did not go through 14 hours of aggravating labour for this horrendous display."
“Now you know how I felt all those years back at Hogwarts, watching you two glued to each other’s lips like a bad romance novel.”
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FUCK YOU to everyone who's posted memes under the harry potter x reader tag. all there is in the top section of the tag are memes. bitch fuck outta my face i wanna read fanfic not your horrible attempt at being funny
synopsis: is it possible that the entire time you've been dating theo, you've somehow not noticed that he's only this sweet with you?
wc - 3.1k | NOT EDITED
more soft theo with his hufflepuff girlfriend. i like to think of this not as a sequel to the previous soft theo and happy huffle (prev work. "and now im covered in you") but moreso as like adjacent.
slytherin boys masterlist my bookcase
"ciao amorina," the deep tone of theodore nott rumbles through your body as he presses his chest to your back in a drowsy hug.
you can feel the slow but steady rise and fall of his chest. his breath tickles your neck as he snuggles his face into your shoulder with a tired hum.
drowsy theo was perhaps your favorite version of your sweet boyfriend.
in truth, theo had always been doting.
fixing your scarf to guard your face against the nippy wind in hogsmeade.
speaking soft sweet nothings in italian when carrying you to bed after a particularly rowdy party in the common room.
even giving you bites of the tiramisu that his nonna sends him from rome even though it's quite well known among hogwarts that theodore nott does not share his food with anyone.
it's a tidbit about theo that everyone knows. enzo has a scar to prove it from where he got a fork stabbed into the back of his hand after reaching for a bite of theo's treasured care package.
theo's contrasting softness with you has been noted on some level by everyone at hogwarts. even the professors.
everyone but you, that is.
you had a habit of seeing the best in the people you loved. which is part of why it was no surprise to theo that you believed him to be this soft with everybody. and honestly, if it meant that he got to see that smile on your face every day, he would gladly let his reputation take a few hits.
"ahhh good morning, aurelius. nice of you to join the land of the living so we can finally go to breakfast."
draco whines from his spot leaned up against one of the columns outside the slytherin common room door.
enzo, who all but tumbled out of the common room right after theo, smiles cheekily as he watches the boy immediately cozy up to you.
"alright there, theodore? you look a little extra content this morning."
the teasing lilt to his voice slides past you, all too focused on pansy's newest exploit with the ravenclaw she's been seeing. still, you feel the quick movement of theo's chest as he huffs in annoyance.
"vaffanculo." his tone is grumbly and his voice slightly muffled as he refused to move from his current task of apparently trying to climb into your skin.
enzo pulls back with a look of faux offense, a glint of mirth in his eyes that seems to shine brighter the more he pokes the bear.
"aw, that's no way to talk to your best friend. if only our sweet hufflepuff knew what you just--"
"huh?" you perk up at the sound of your name, right as blaise shoves enzo down the corridor and gives you a polite smile.
"you know none of us can stop him once he gets going, why do you..."
their voices trail off the further they get from you.
you turn to theo distractedly, eyes lingering on the retracting slytherins until finally, they snap to his. the moment your stares meet, you're instantly reminded of just how devastatingly handsome your boyfriend is.
your tongue feels thick and dry in your mouth. the intensity in his stare has something akin to delight crawling up your spine and making your hands tingle as they rise to gently fluff theo's dark curls into place.
the olive-drab color of his eyes has always been captivating to you. but more than that, tit's he way that theo looks at you with that hunger in his eyes. like he would just as easily kiss you senseless as he would swallow you whole. like he can't get enough of you.
his arms tighten around your waist.
"andiamo," he murmurs into your shoulder, though he makes no moves to actually let you go.
"you're the one holding me hostage," you teasingly mumble in response. your body leans back into his anyway. like there isn't a cell in your being that wants to leave the warmth of his embrace.
"theo, we're gonna be late."
"we won't," he says easily, pressing his face further into your neck. the others have left now too, although pansy gave you a parting wink on her way out. "they'll wait."
you turn your head, brows pulling together. "who?"
he lifts his head just enough to look at you, his expression flat.
"everyone."
his tone has a level of finality to it. the kind that comes from genuinely not giving a damn if he had to spend the rest of the term in detention so long as he got to hold you for five more minutes.
you blink up at him, waiting for his face to split into that smile that you adore so much.
only, theo doesn't look like he's joking. and he doesn't even try to look apologetic in any capacity.
"you're ridiculous," you say with a soft huffing laugh.
before you can say anything else, draco's voice cuts back in from down the corridor.
"if the two of you are quite done, some of us would like to eat before we die."
theo exhales sharply through his nose, irritated at yet another interruption in his alone time with you.
"vai via." he mutters it under his breath, but you catch it nonetheless.
you nudge him with your elbow. "be nice."
the look on his face is indignant as he shrugs nonchalantly. "i am being nice. i didn't even curse at him." he replies, although the look on his face says otherwise.
his hands finally loosen, but instead of stepping away, he shifts so he's standing beside you, one arm still draped over your shoulders as you make your way towards the others at the end of the hall. enzo, who was apparently waiting for this exact opportunity, grinds the second you join the group.
“there he is,” he says, falling into step beside you. “i was beginning to think you’d merged into one person.”
you laugh softly, shaking your head. “you’re so dramatic.”
“i’m observant,” he corrects, glancing pointedly at theo’s arm around you.
theo doesn’t even look at him. his grip tightens slightly instead.
enzo notices. of course he does.
“you know,” he continues, tone turning thoughtful in a way that immediately puts theo on edge, “it’s funny.”
“nothing you say is funny,” theo cuts in flatly.
"theo!" you admonish him, lightly slapping the back of your hand against his chest as he grumbles.
“no, really,” enzo insists, ignoring him completely. “i’ve known you for years, nott.”
“unfortunate.” theo states without even sparing a glance at enzo.
despite the bored inflection in his tone, you knew that enzo was one of theo's absolute best friends. they'd spent summer vacations together in sicily, they'd shared a dorm their entire time at hogwarts. hell, they'd grown up down the street from each other, both of their fathers prominent death eaters.
“tragic, honestly,” enzo agrees. “and yet i’ve never seen you share food, let alone—”
“enzo,” blaise cuts in, voice a warning and paired with a cautious look that you didn't often see on blaise. normally he was right there beside the boy, stirring up trouble amongst the student body.
“—cling to someone like a lost child,” enzo finishes anyway, smiling teasingly at theo.
you snort at that, glancing up at theo to find him glaring at enzo with a look that could literally put someone in the ground.
“he doesn’t cling.” you chime in, patting theo's arm soothingly.
theo’s jaw tightens, and then releases. this doesn't go unnoticed by enzo, who's smile widens cockily.
“no?” he says lightly. “must be seeing things, then.”
you shrug, unconcerned. “he’s just like this.”
there’s a beat of silence. then draco lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. mattheo actually stops walking, causing a half-asleep astoria to slam into her boyfriend's back with a sharp cry.
“just like this,” draco repeats, astounded.
you nod with a hum, already half distracted again by a loose thread that you're carefully pinching off theo's jumper.
“yeah. he’s always like this. he's sweet.”
"sweet like cinnamon, maybe." draco shoots back.
the look that passes between the slytherins is immediate, though you don't catch it. you don't even look up from your boyfriends shoulder until you've completed your task. then, you turn, smiling the same bright smile as always. theo’s arm tightens around you again, pulling you a fraction closer to his side.
“drop it,” he says quietly to his friends.
enzo raises his hands in mock surrender, though the amusement doesn’t leave his face.
“wouldn’t dream of it.”
but he does go quiet. in fact, everyone does. for a few minutes, at least. you don’t notice the way they keep glancing at theo. you don’t notice the way he doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the way his thumb traces slow, absent patterns against your shoulder.
like the same boy who hates to even be looked at, needs to be touching you in some way or he might just die.
it isn’t until you reach the great hall that pansy links her arm through yours, pulling you slightly away.
“come sit with me,” she says, already steering you toward the table.
theo’s arm slips from your shoulders as you go, but not without a brief pause, like he’s considering pulling you back. he doesn’t and you don’t think anything of that either. you settle into your seat beside pansy, immediately getting pulled back into whatever story she was telling earlier.
across the table, theo watches you. he watches you with the same quiet gaze as usual. like he's trying to absorb every teeny little detail about you, gaze flicking hurriedly over your face.
enzo leans over, following his line of sight before letting out a low whistle.
“you’re not even subtle about it.”
theo doesn’t look at him. enzo thinks fleetingly that people could start combusting around them into bloody little bits and theo's stare would still be fixed on you.
“don’t need to be.”
enzo huffs out a laugh. “she really has no idea, does she?”
that gets his attention. his gaze flicks over, sharp for a second before settling back on you. you’re smiling at something pansy said, completely unaware. the sound causes something in his chest to shift. something that he didn't even know could shift until he met you.
theo doesn't reply to enzo, choosing instead to go back to his bacon and, of course, his view.
pansy pauses mid-sentence.
"what?" you ask, glancing at her.
her eyes flick past you for half a second, toward theo, then back again. there's something unreadable in her expression before she quickly smooths it over.
“nothing,” she says easily. “just thinking.”
you narrow your eyes slightly. “you’re a terrible liar.”
“am not.”
“are too.”
she huffs, waving you off. “just eat.”
you shrug it off, as you often do when it comes to pansy. still, with that and enzo's snide comment earlier, something has been nagging at you all morning.
something about the way everyone went quiet earlier. the looks you didn’t quite catch. the way draco had laughed like you’d said something absurd.
your gaze drifts across the table without really meaning to, and expectedly, theo is already looking at you. he doesn’t look away when you catch him. in fact, he never does. there’s something steady in his expression, focused in a way that feels heavier now that you’re actually paying attention to it.
your stomach flips.
“why are you staring at him like that?” pansy mutters under her breath.
you blink, tearing your eyes away. “like what?”
“like you’re confused.”
“i’m not confused.”
she gives you a look.
you sigh, dropping your fork. “okay, maybe a little.”
pansy leans back in her seat, studying you for a moment. her sigh is heavy before she leans close to you, voice lowering like she's about to tell you a secret.
“you really don’t see it,” she says.
it’s not a secret. it's not even a question.
your brows knit together. “see what?”
she hesitates and that alone is enough to make your chest twist. pansy doesn’t hesitate. she's always been the chainsaw friend in the group.
“how he is with you,” she says finally.
you frown. “what about it?”
she lets out a short breath, glancing briefly toward the boys again.
“merlin, you’re dense.”
“pansy.”
“i’m serious,” she insists, leaning forward slightly. “you think theodore nott acts like that with everyone?”
you pause. a moment ago, the answer would've been an unequivocal, resounding yes. but with the way that this morning had been so far, and with the doubtful look on pansy's face, you weren't so sure anymore.
“i mean, sure he doesn't kiss everyone else, but he's nice,” you say, slower this time. “he’s just… like that.”
pansy actually laughs. not loudly, but enough to make heat creep up neck.
“no, he isn’t.”
you shake your head. “you’re exaggerating.”
“am i?”
she tilts her head, eyes sharp now. her eyes flash pointedly towards theo.
you look over at your boyfriend, who has taken a break from admiring you and is scanning the sports section of the daily prophet.
“have you ever seen him let anyone else touch him how you do?”
you open your mouth to respond. it slams shut as you watch mattheo lean over theo's shoulder to read the column, only for the latter to damn near shove him off the bench the second their shoulders brush.
pansy doesn’t wait for an answer, point proven.
“have you ever seen him sit that close to anyone else? follow them around? look at them like that?”
your chest tightens.
“he doesn’t even let people borrow his notes,” she adds flatly. “enzo still complains about failing potions last year.”
your mind flashes back to this morning. the way enzo had been grinning. the way draco had repeated your words like they'd made just about as much sense as professor trelwaney in divinations.
“that’s not…” you start, but the words don’t come out right.
pansy softens, just slightly.
“he’s not like that with anyone,” she says, quieter now. “just you.”
your gaze drifts back across the table before you can stop it. theo is back to watching you. if you think about it, he’s always watching you.
but now, it feels different.
intentional.
his thumb taps once against the table, like he’s waiting. like he’s tracking the exact moment your attention lands back on him. when it does, something in his expression shifts.
your breath catches, heart beating way too fast for comfort.
“you’re overthinking it,” you murmur, more to yourself than to pansy.
she doesn’t respond right away.
then, lightly, “am i?”
you don’t answer. instead, you stand abruptly, grabbing your bag without really thinking.
“i’ll be right back,” you say, though you don’t specify where you’re going.
pansy watches you go, something knowing in her expression.
you don’t make it far.
“amorina.”
your steps falter. of course he followed you.
you turn, finding theo a few paces behind you, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze fixed entirely on you.
“where are you going?” he asks.
“nowhere,” you say quickly.
his brows pull together slightly. “you don’t look like nowhere. che succede?”
you huff out a small breath, shaking your head.
“do you act like this with everyone?”
the question slips out before you can stop it and theo's body goes rigid.
“like what?” he asks slowly.
you gesture vaguely, already feeling a little stupid. he didn't owe you an explanation. theo was well within his rights to act however he pleased.
“just… this. all of it.”
his eyes narrow just slightly, like he’s trying to understand how you got there.
“who said something to you?”
“no one,” you say, too fast.
his gaze sharpens, and his head tilts as he slowly cages you against the corridor wall, arms planted on either side. when he speaks again, his voice is low and gentle in a way that you've become accustomed to hearing from him.
“who?”
“it doesn’t matter,” you insist. “just answer me.”
there’s a brief pause.
then, quieter, “do you think i do?”
you hesitate.
and that’s answer enough. something in his expression shifts.
“have you ever seen me act like this with anyone else?” he asks.
his tone isn't short or impatient. he doesn't look or sound upset. in fact, he's looking at you the same way one would coax a scared puppy from the forest.
you don’t answer.
because now that you’re thinking about it, really thinking about it, no. you've never seen theo act like this with anyone.
ever.
he lets out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly.
“i don’t like people touching me,” he says. “i don’t like being around people more than i have to. i don’t like sharing.”
his eyes lock onto yours.
“that includes my time. my space. my food. you.”
your chest tightens as he licks his lips slowly. his head falls back for a brief second and you watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows.
“so no,” he says, eyes once again on yours and his voice lower now. “i don’t act like this with everyone.”
another step closer.
“i act like this with you only.”
it lands harder this time because now you know he means it. really means it in a way that's almost hard for you to confront. your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag, your thoughts scrambling to catch up.
“oh.”
it’s a quiet, barely there reply, but he hears it and his expression softens just slightly, something fond slipping through.
“yeah,” he murmurs.
you look at him differently now. like you’re seeing something you should have noticed a long time ago. and maybe that’s what makes your chest feel so full all of a sudden.
“you’re… not subtle about it,” you admit.
his mouth twitches as he fails to keep the smirk off his face.
“never said i was.”
you let out a small breath, shaking your head, still in disbelief that you could've missed something so massive about your boyfriend.
“i really thought—”
“i know,” he cuts in.
amusement colors his tone as he stares down at you in pure adoration.
“you think i’m nice to everyone.”
you wince slightly at the joke in his tone. it's clear that he finds the thought more humorous than anything. “i didn’t say that.”
“you didn’t have to.”
you glance down, then back up at him.
“why didn’t you tell me?”
he shrugs, like it’s nothing, smile widening as he deftly runs his hands over your hips. his fingers spread as he strengthens his grip, pulling you into his chest and planting a kiss on your temple.
“you never asked.”
that makes you huff out a quiet laugh despite yourself.
“does it bother you?” he asks.
you look at him, really look at him. then shake your head.
“no.”
a small pause. if you were being completely honest, it was a little endearing. knowing that no one else in the world had the same kind of access to theo as you do.
“i think i like it.”
your tone is shy, but theo's gaze sharpens as he bites his bottom lip, staring at you with a look that's both surprised and intrigued.
his grip tightens just slightly.
“oh yeah?” he says.
and this time, when he looks at you, you finally understand what everyone else has been seeing the whole time.
Divination was stupid. Theo knew it. Enzo knew it. But unfortunately for the two of them, Daphne Greengrass did not. She was quite the believer in fact—spending hours charting stars to gauge compatibility, gazing into her crystal ball, and practicing her palm reading. A load of bollocks and a complete waste of time in Theo's opinion, but, he wasn't a monster and so he humored his friend, content in blocking out Professor Trelawney's incessant babbling for an hour at the start of his day.
Theo was just admiring how particularly gray the walls of the castle were looking this fine morning when a sharp elbow to the ribs pulls his attention back to the old bat's class. Theo shoots a glare Enzo's way as he rubs his wounded ribcage pointedly. To only further his agitation, Theo notices that Trelawney is now stood directly in front of him extending a deck of tarot cards to him as she blinks her wide owlish eyes at him expectantly.
With a deep sigh and a rather dramatic eye roll, Theo plucks a card from the deck and hands it back to the witch without even bothering to glance at it. Trelawney doesn't seem to mind much though as she inhales sharply, a grin that seemed much too wide for her face forming as she flips the card back to Theo.
"Yes, yes. Just as I predicted dear boy. Just as I predicted. The Two of Cups!" She announces proudly, brandishing the card out towards the class.
Daphne squeals.
"Oh Teddy—"
"Don't call me that."
Daphne ignores him.
"How exciting. How romantic," she continues, clearly far more interested in the pull than Theo was.
She pulls out a script of parchment, finger tracing down the lines of notes until she finds what she's searching for. Then she shoves the parchment under Theo's nose.
"Look there. The Two of Cups—signifies mutual attraction and deep connections. A representation of kindred spirits in the early stages of falling in love. That's so romantic," she gushes, continuing on in her notes.
Enzo snorts doing a horrible job trying to stifle his laughter. Theo glowers, not even wanting to deign such a ridiculous concept with a response. This was ludicrous. The whole thing. Theo had been attending Hogwarts for well long enough to know that there was not a single present student in the school that he would even dignify having a romantic relationship with. He can't help but shake his head and scoff at the mere idea.
"Oh lighten up Teddy, heaven forbid you let Daphne have this," Enzo snickers, clearly enjoying the discomfort the whole thing brought Theo.
It was easy for him to say. It wasn't his love life being carefully dissected by their mystic enthused friend.
Being the new student at any new school was always going to be nerve wracking. But being the new student at a new school in a whole new country was significantly worse in every aspect. Whispers float down the corridors, your name echoing off the high ceilings of the castle, and eyes flicker towards the ground as you pass as if they hadn't just been staring shamelessly the moment prior. Normally the stares wouldn't bother you much, but the constant hushed voices were beginning to be unnerving. Your lips tighten as you move swiftly through the halls and you can't help but feel a bit self conscious as you smooth out your unfamiliar, deep blue robes.
You weren't exactly enthusiastic about your new school to begin with. It was different—of course it would be—but no matter how much you had prepared yourself for all the changes, it just hadn't been enough. Like really, they let a ratty, old—albeit sentient—hat determine house placements? You hadn't wanted that thing anywhere near your head, but it just couldn't be helped. Then, once you had been placed into your house, you come to find that yours is the only one in the entire school that requires you to solve a freaking riddle just to get into your damn room. Asinine. And to top it all off, the wretched school was literally impossible to navigate because the staircases, apparently, were also sentient and did whatever the hell they wanted.
All that to say, when you finally collapse into a seat in the back of, what you hoped was the History of Magic classroom, you were more than a little miffed. With an agitated huff, you try to stay invisible as more students begin to file into the classroom, taking their seats closer to the front. As seats fill, the extra buffer of breathing room melts a bit of the tension in your shoulders. When your professor—a ghost you notice dryly—begins to write on the chalk board, you finally feel yourself start to relax, pulling out a roll of parchment from your bag and carefully copying down each line.
Just as you're about to finish—The Gargoyle Strike of 1911—the classroom door swings open once more and a boy with brown hair and dark, calculating eyes saunters in. You're content with giving him a quick, uninterested glance before getting back to your notes, but unfortunately for you, the boy is rapidly approaching. His bag hits the floor next to you with a dull thread and you feel your lips turn downward into a frown as you look up at the boy once more in annoyance.
You watch as the boy's mouth opens as if to say something, but then his eyes meet yours and you watch him freeze, mouth agape for a moment then two. Just as it's becoming a bit uncomfortable, he seems to awaken from his trance looking shaken, brows furrowing as if he were wondering why on Earth he was just standing there like a fool. Still though, he tilts his head awkwardly—chin gesturing towards the rest of the class—and for the first time you notice that every other seat in the room seems to be occupied. With a sigh of defeat, you wordlessly turn back to the board, preparing to scramble to write down whatever you'd missed just now, content with simply ignoring this boy's existence for the the rest of class.
"A 'wildcat strike' refers to a stopping of work by unionized workers without authorization from the union. In 1911 the wildcats were winning, meaning things were moving in favor of the gargoyles—"
Good god this was horrible. You weren't even ten minutes into your first day of this new class and you already wanted to throw yourself off the top of Ravenclaw tower. It seemed as though many of the other students in class felt similarly as one of the boys sitting a few rows in front of you lets out a concernedly loud snore. You have to choke down a snicker as your eyes flicker up to the ghost at the front of the room, but he doesn't seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn't care.
"That's Finnigan. There's a running bet on how long it'll take him to fall asleep after Binns starts monologuing," the boy next to you murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips.
You turn to look at the boy, surprised to hear him speak after all, and for the first time take a good look. Shit. He was hot. You don't really get the chance to dwell too much on it though because he speaks again.
"That one next to him is Thomas. Any second now he'll start piling things on top of 'em. See how high the stack gets before it falls over or Finnigan wakes up. Whichever comes first."
As if on queue, the boy next to the snoring kid carefully places a thick text book on his friend's back. Then another. It's like you can't look away as you watch on in morbid fascination.
"They friends of yours?" you find yourself asking as the boy, Thomas, adds an ink well to his tower.
Your desk partner snorts.
"Hardly. Lions and snakes don't exactly get along," he says smoothly.
You have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but you don't want to ask. Instead you continue to watch as a bag of Bertie Bott's jelly beans, three quills, a sweater, and someone's pet frog is added to the pile. A potted plant is about to be placed on top when a sneeze sends the whole thing crashing to the floor. Professor Binns doesn't even blink as he just continues on. Finnigan's head shoots up as he takes in his surroundings once more, shoulders slumping when he apparently realizes where he is. Understandable.
The rest of class is an absolute drag as you flit in and out of different thoughts and daydreams. Anywhere was better than here, listening to this ghost drown on. If he were any less interesting, you're sure the entire class would die of sheer boredom and be cursed to haunt this very classroom with the old professor. Doomed to be subjected to the very thing that killed you all in the first place for all eternity.
After what you're certain is the longest hour of your life, class finally ends, but to your dismay, you realize that halfway through class you'd simply given up on taking notes. Dammit. As though reading your mind, the boy next to you slides his parchment towards you. His notes are impeccable. Perfectly neat rows in dark ink with not a smudge in sight.
"I can get them back tomorrow," he says simply, before returning the rest of his materials into his bag.
You open your mouth to thank the boy, but before you even get the chance he's gone in a swoosh of emerald green and black.
The whole thing leaves you a bit stunned. It was the first real interaction you'd had with, really anyone at your new school and you couldn't tell if you'd completely blown it or not. He'd seemed decent enough, whoever he was. And that's when it occurs to you. You hadn't even bothered to ask the boy's name.
"Mmm. What was their name again?" Theo asks, trying to appear nonchalant as he inserts himself into Enzo and Daphne's conversation.
The three of them occupied their usual spots inside the Slytherin common room, the soft glow of green flames painting their faces as their voices mix in with the other echoes of the dungeon. Enzo eyes Theo suspiciously, noting that—despite the unbothered front he put on—Theo's fingers couldn't seem to stop tapping anxiously against his knee. See, usually when Enzo and Daphne were participating in their daily debrief, Theo was staring off into the abyss, pointedly ignoring them. So it didn't take an intuitive genius to pick up on the sudden spike of interest he was showing.
"Y/n. They're from America," Daphne says helpfully, seemingly oblivious to the way that Enzo was trying to dissect their friend's inner most thoughts.
"Why all the interest? They catch your eye? Are you two already falling into the early stages of love?" He taunts when he isn't able to get a proper read on his friend.
Theo's heart stops beating in his chest for half a moment before he juts out his chin defiantly.
"All anyone will talk about. Just curious to know who all the fuss is about," he retorts, forcing his voice to remain steady as he continues to stare ahead, avoiding the curious glances of his friends.
He can tell Enzo doesn't quite buy it, but that simply isn't his problem to worry about at the moment.
So they were from America. Huh.
Truthfully, Theo didn't know much about America. Hadn't ever really cared to find anything out. He was familiar with Ilvermorny of course. Which was presumably your former school, but that was pretty much the extent of it. Maybe he'd ask you about it tomorrow.
Assuming he didn't freeze up again at the mere sight of you. Salazar's ball sack that had been bloody embarrassing. Theo couldn't think of a single other time he'd ever frozen up like that, brief as it had been. Usually Theo liked to consider himself to be quite suave. Charming even, if he did say so himself. And he did. It was completely unlike him to be rendered speechless. Especially not by the mere presence of someone with a pretty face.
But it simply hadn't been his fault. How was he supposed to expect that some great, higher power was going to reach deep into his inner most thoughts and desires—pull together every single physical trait that Theo could possibly fantasize about—and combine them all into one single heavenly creature, and then plop them down right next to him in History of Magic of all classes.
Fate was cruel.
And speaking of fate, there was also all that nonsense from Divination that morning to think about. Theo leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. Surely the fact that batty, old Trelawney had predicted that he would fall in love was a complete coincidence in relation to him practically being prepared to propose to the new student in History of Magic a mere few hours later. How could it be anything else? Divination wasn't real. The whole class had been so close to being completely scrapped so many times that you either had to be a fool, or Daphne to believe in it.
Okay, so maybe Theodore was starting to believe it. A little. But what was he supposed to think as he watches you drag your feet through the door scowling? He feels his chest tighten as the two of you make eye contact and he watches as you make your way over to him.
"This seat taken?" you ask, already dropping your bag to the floor. "Didn't take you as one to be into this kinda stuff," you say conversationally as you pull parchment and a quill from your bag.
Theo scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not," he assures, "But Daph is," he adds, head tilting as he gestures to his friend.
He watches as your eyes dart over to the pretty blonde sitting happily between him and Enzo, assessing.
"Oh. Are you two?" The question lingers on your lips and Theo is quick to shake his head no.
Salazar he was being stupid. Of course you would assume—Why was he being like this?
"Nah. No. Daph's an old friend. Enz and I are just here for moral support. And an easy O." Theo hears himself drawl. "What about you? Training to become a seer?"
"Hardly. This was the only elective left that fit into my schedule apparently."
Salazar's balls you were perfect, Theo thinks to himself as Trelawney comes sweeping into the room. Her eyes are closed and her fingertips are pressed against her temples as she swooshes around the room, humming lowly.
"I feel new energy. An unfamiliar presence. You!" Trelawney screeches in her trembly voice, stopping in front of a poor, innocent Hufflepuff with an accusatory finger hovering dangerously close to their eyeball.
Theo can't help but let out a dry snicker and is delighted when he sees you out of the corner of his eye trying to hold back a laugh too. When it's clear to the old professor that the student in front of her had actually been present all year, her eyes scan the room, finally coming to a stop when they rest on you.
"Ah, there you are my dear! Your energy feels so concentrated on this side of the room, it simply drew me over," Trelawney babbles as she makes her way over. "Now let's see here. Palms up dear, palms up, let me have a look."
Theo watches amused, ignoring the weird kissing faces Enzo is making at him, as you sigh but still present your palms facing upwards to the professor. Her bony talons quickly engulf your hands, her eyes fluttering shut once more as her head tilts back, a low hum starting once more.
"Yes, yes. How interesting," the hums get louder as the professor's fingers dig into the lines of your palms. "I see. In the darkest hour, a dark shadow, it will over take you. Consume you."
Trelawney's eyes snap open and Theo watches her face melt back into a warm smile as she gives your hands one last squeeze.
"Welcome to class dear. We have much to learn, so much to see!"
Theo finds that he rather likes the way his heart swells when you turn to look at him, brow raised as you shake your head ever so slightly as if to say, 'what a nutter'.
"How many freaking goblin rebellions is it going to take before the British Ministry finally takes the hint and leaves those poor goblins alone?" you huff, slamming your books a little too loudly onto your table in the library.
You can feel Madam Pince attempting to burn a hole through your back as she glares at you, but you ignore her.
"Probably at least—" Theo checks his notes from the day's lesson, "six or seven. Unfortunately not every revolution to rid oneself of British rule is successful," he teases lightly.
You glare at the boy pointedly.
"I'm not even particularly, patriotic," you grumble, the word actually quite sour on your tongue, "but nothing brings Americans together quite like our mutual hatred of the British."
"Mmm. Do let it go on record now that my family is Italian," Theo replies dryly.
Theodore had very quickly become your closest friend at Hogwarts. From that first day in History of Magic the two of you just seemed to click. It also definitely helped that not only did he share your dry sense of humor, but he was also insanely smart, and very easy on the eyes. You'd been worried for a split second when he first introduced you to Daphne Greengrass, a familiar turning in your stomach that you'd quickly identified as jealousy flaring up, but it had been quickly squashed when Theo assured you that they were indeed just friends. But that was neither here nor there. You and Theo had become practically inseparable in the month that you'd been at your new school, much to the chagrin of his friends. You liked them too of course, and they'd been good sports about welcoming you into their little group, but with Theo it was just easy.
You slide your potions notes across the table just as Theo hands over his Charms essay for you to look over. No words exchanged, but you were both perfectly in sync. Easy.
It's far past dark when you finally push your chair back, the old wood scraping against the floor, and you force yourself to stifle a yawn.
"Alright. I'm calling it a night," you announce as you begin packing up your books. "I should head back in case it takes an hour to get that damn eagle to open up the common room door again."
You hear Theo let out a snort at your last comment. He'd heard well and good your complaints about that stupid hunk of metal.
"Guess I'll head out as well. Mattheo has been complaining that he never sees me anymore, but he's just mad he can't copy my notes anymore."
The two of you quickly gather the rest of your things, slinking out of the library right as Pince begins making her rounds to toss the last lingering students out before closing the doors for the night. The walk to Ravenclaw tower is made in comfortable silence as you walk side by side, both of you trying to ignore the way the back of your hands were brushing against each other as you went. When you finally arrive, a whole group of students in black and blue are outside the door when it swings open. Not wanting to miss your chance, you toss Theo a smile over your shoulder before disappearing with the crowd of students through the door.
As soon as you enter your room, you dump your bag on the ground at the foot of your bed, trade your stiff school uniform for a more comfortable track set, and turn right back out the door—a disillusionment spell on the tip of your tongue. You move silently against the walls, retracing the same steps you'd just taken, leading your right back to the library. It's dark now—you knew from experience that as soon as the clock hit ten, Pince was out the doors. You lift your wand, ready to cast the usual alohomora but tonight something stops you. Call it a gut feeling. You grip the handle of the heavy, wood door and without so much as a squeak, the door swings open. Huh. Maybe the cranky librarian had been in such a rush to leave she forgot to lock up.
Without giving it so much as a second thought, you slip through the doors, following the familiar path that lead you right to the heart of the restricted section of the library. Really, you often found yourself wondering, why on Earth did they have a so called restricted section, and then not even bother to put up a single ward to keep students from entering? Wasn't very restricted if they asked you. Your fingertips brush over the spines of different books as you pass through the shelves, pulling one from the shelf every so often if it catches your eye. The silence of the empty library was deafening, but you relished the way you could hear your footsteps echoing on the tile and the rustle of pages turning as you flipped through your nightly finds.
You're on your tiptoes, straining to reach a large tome from the top shelf when you catch sight of a dark shadow appearing out of the corner of your eye. God, you hoped it wasn't that old man Filch. He wasn't as bad as everyone made him seem, you'd been able to talk him out of snitching on you thus far, but it kind of ruined the mood. Your hand drops to rest on the handle of your wand as the shady figure draws closer and you prepare to throw one of your books its way just in case.
"What are you doing here?" the confused voice of Theodore rings out just as you're about to launch your copy of Moste Potente Potions at his head.
You feel your shoulders sag in relief. You hadn't been scared of course. Just vaguely alarmed. Then you let out a laugh.
"And what's funny?"
"Oh, nothing. Just Trelawney and her whole 'A dark shadow is going to overtake you' spiel," you snicker. "And what do you mean what am I doing here? What are you doing here?" you ask rather indignantly, turning back to focus on the book that was just out of your reach.
"I come down to the library at night all the time," Theo replies, crossing his arms defensively.
"Well it's obviously not all the time because I've been here every night this month and I've never seen you down here," you reply casually.
You can practically hear Theo rolling his eyes at you.
"Well of course not all the time, Filch would start getting—sorry did you say you've been here every night? How has Filch not caught you?"
You shrug your shoulders noncommittally, glaring up at the book that seemed to be just taunting you.
"He has a few times, but we usually just chat for a little and then he'll send me on my way."
You don't see the absolutely stunned look on Theo's face.
"You chat? With Filch. About what?" Theo asks incredulously.
You let out an exasperated sigh.
"The weather. Cat toy recommendations for Mrs. Norris. His mother's retirement in France. I don't know, we chat about a lot of things."
You still aren't facing Theo, but if you had been, you probably would have laughed at the completely gobsmacked look that was written across his face.
"Now will you be useful and get that book down for me?" you ask, foot stomping impatiently on the ground.
Still too shocked to respond, Theo reaches up over your head, placing one hand on your shoulder for balance as he easily plucks the book you'd been reaching for off the shelf. Just as he's about to hand it to you though, it seems he comes back to his senses and that smug grin that you'd become so familiar with recently finds its way back to his lips.
"Uh uh uh, where's my reward?" he teases, holding the book just out of reach once more as he smirks down at you.
"Reward?" you ask dryly, looking up to raise an eyebrow at your friend.
Had he always been standing so close?
"I'm a Slytherin. I don't do something for nothing now," he says, voice like honey in your ears.
"What do you want?" you ask, eyes narrowing.
Theo tilts his head as if pretending to think.
"A kiss."
You blink, shoulders shrugging as you turn to face the boy properly. Seemed fair enough to you. You were definitely getting the best end of the deal. So you tug on the collar of Theo's sweatshirt, before crashing your lips into his. His lips are warm and soft and that's all you take note of before pulling away quickly. Theo is clearly stunned once more so you take the opportunity to finally get your hands on the book you'd been eyeing this whole time.
"Thanks Theo!"
Theodore Nott was dangerously close to never brushing his teeth ever again. Because you had kissed him last night. In some sudden, stupid burst of confidence he had asked you to kiss him and you did. It had been a complete joke—Theo hadn't even remotely considered that you'd actually do it, but you'd grabbed the collar of his jumper and then your lips were on his and he knew he was well and truly done for.
"Theo. Theo! You need to get your act together mate," Lorenzo grunts, elbowing his friend to get his attention.
"What? Stop that," Theo mutters, batting Enzo’s arm away from him.
"Seriously. You're acting like a love sick puppy."
Theo glares.
"Would take one to know one," he snaps, falling back in his seat with a huff.
Now it's Enzo's turn to narrow his eyes.
"I'm going to choose to ignore that because you're just upset that you didn't kiss y/n back," he responds.
Theo's eyes bulge at the bold—albeit correct—observation.
"Can you keep your bloody voice down?" he hisses, eyes flickering about to make sure no one had heard.
Luckily, you had only just entered the divination classroom so at least Theo was safe for now. Or maybe not.
"Morning," you say brightly giving the group a small wave and taking your usual spot next to Theo.
Theo opens his mouth to respond but, Salazar you smelled good today, and your lips, god your lips looked soft and pink and, the words feel caught in Theo's throat. Somewhere in the distance he can hear Enzo snickering obnoxiously, but all Theo can do is stare at you dumbly. This was mortifying. As soon as he figured out how to move again Theo was launching himself straight off this bloody tower.
"Hey, do you want to sneak into the library again tonight?" you ask casually, laying your things out on your desk, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you were about to send Theo into cardiac arrest.
Of course I'll sneak back into the library with you. Especially if it means you'll kiss me again, Theo wants to say. But he has at least a little bit of dignity left, so he straightens himself in his chair, trying to maintain at least somewhat of an air of nonchalance as he finally strings a sentence together.
"Sure."
Okay, so a sentence might be giving himself a bit too much credit, but it was better than sitting there gaping like a daft idiot. You seem satisfied with his answer though as you turn to face the front just as Trelawney waltzes into the room with her usual dramatic flair. Theo drifts in and out of the lesson as Trelawney rambles on about tea leaves and the placement of tasseography symbols. He tried to focus. Really he needed to, because the alternative was his gaze finding its way to the curve of your lips and the way your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek as you furiously scribbled down notes.
The gentle sound of metal clinking on china pulls Theo wholey back to class as a spoon taps impatiently on the teacup in front of him as if urging him to drink. Glancing around he sees most of his classmates were already bottoms up. Drinking down the rather bitter liquid, Theo carefully places his cup back down in front of him, peering disinterestedly at its contents. Just looked like soggy tea leaves to him.
Trelawney insists on moving about the room though, dissecting the meanings inside each little cup and leaving behind a trail of utterly befuddled students in her wake. When she finally reaches Theo, he can visibly see her begin to vibrate with excitement as she moves his cup around in her hands, swishing the tea leaves back and forth.
"Look there, dear. Do you see?" she asks giddily, shoving the teacup back in Theo's face.
"No." he replies flatly, not even bothering to examine the wet leaves.
"Look closer."
Theo's nose is practically inside the cup now and he can hear you and Enz snickering on either side of him. Traitors. When he still doesn't say anything, Trelawney lets out a huff, sticking her crooked finger into the cup and speaking slowly as if explaining something to a small child.
"Right there. Don't you see?" she asks, as if it should've been the most obvious thing in the world. "An axe—" she swirls the cup to the side. "And a butterfly."
Theo stares blankly at the old woman.
"Use their notes and figure it out," she finally huffs in exasperation before sweeping off to another table.
As soon as she's gone and Theo makes eye contact with you he can't help but chuckle as Daphne scowls at the two of you.
"Look," she sighs, shoving her notes across the table for Theo to read.
The Axe—problems overcome
The Butterfly—success and pleasure
Wonderful. More nonsense. That was the problem with divination—the definitions were so broad they were basically meaningless. Overcoming problems and success? That could be about anything. Theo pushes the parchment back to its owner with a shrug. He'd just do what he always did and make something up for the assignment.
Shadows loom against the dimly lit walls of the library as you and Theo wander through the shelves together. Theo had been quieter than usual tonight. To be fair, he wasn't usually the most talkative person ever, but you had had to push to get your usual banter out of him. He clearly had something on his mind. You don't push though. That was something you both appreciated about each other—just being there together was enough.
Once you both have a sizable stack of books pulled together you tuck yourselves away in one of the back corners of the restricted section. Far enough that not even Mrs. Norris would bother to wander all the way back. You find yourself curling up next to your friend, legs pressed together and shoulders brushing as you cast a soft lumos charm just bright enough to illuminate the pages of your books as you read. The quiet is nice after a long day of navigating the crowded halls and classrooms of the school. Hogwarts was definitely a lively place, and you hadn't realized just how much you missed having some peace and quiet until you'd snuck out of Ravenclaw tower that first night.
"Do you think divination might not be completely useless?" Theo asks a while later, breaking the silence.
You look up in surprise before glancing down at the book he's reading—Divination Through the Ages: A Skeptics Guide—your eyebrows furrowing in thought. If you were being honest, you'd always thought that divination was, to be polite, dumb. In fact, you'd been rather pissed when your head of house, Professor Flitwick, had told you that it was the only class that would fit in your schedule. But you didn't think that was what Theo wanted to hear at the moment.
"I mean, all forms of magic have their unique uses I suppose," you reply carefully, wondering where this was going.
Theo just hums in response, continuing to finger through the pages of the book as you watch with curiosity. Finally, with a deep breath, he snaps the book closed and turns to face you. It's clear he wants to say something as you search his eyes which seem to be getting ever so slightly closer by the second. You can't help the way your eyes drop down to his lips as his tongue glides across his bottom lip nervously. They're so close now you can practically feel the way they had pressed against your own last night. However brief that encounter had been. When you finally tilt your head back up to meet his eyes once more, your nose brushes his and you feel your breath hitch. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was about to kiss you right now.
And then his lips are on yours and you feel your body go limp as he pulls you into him, your eyes fluttering closed as he molds you to him. Your book slips from your fingers with a dull thud as it hits the ground, but you hardly notice. Theo's lips are just as warm, and soft, and utterly intoxicating as you remembered them to be. You can feel Theo smiling against your lips as he pulls you impossibly closer and you forget where you are, what you were doing, everything except what it feels like to be held in Theo's arms.
When you finally break apart, it's your turn to blink in stunned silence as Theo gazes down at you, his breath warm against your cheek.
"Ever since you arrived, everything that divination has told me has come true," Theo says gruffly, clearly not pleased to be having to admit it.
You couldn't blame him. The two of you had kind of bonded over how unseriously you both took the class. Still though, you tilt your head, inviting him to continue.
"The first day we met—that morning in divination, a deck of tarot cards told me I was going to fall in love."
A dry laugh escapes Theo's lips as he pulls back, eyes trained everywhere but at you now. Which is probably for the best as you feel tendrils of heat creeping up into your face.
"I didn't believe them of course. Thought it was pure rubbish."
Your heart stutters for a moment before your eyes land on the book Theo had been reading so intently up until now.
"Hm. And did something change?" you ask cautiously, not daring to get your hopes up.
"Well, the soggy leaves in my tea this morning kind of implied that I should get my act together if I wanted any sort of success, so—" Theo lets out another wry laugh, though there's no humor in his voice. Just a nervous undertone that you can tell he's trying to mask.
"Well did you? Fall in love that is?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy around Theo for the first time.
There's a beat of silence where you can practically feel your heart trying to tear its way out of your chest. You hadn't quite realized just how much you wanted this until it was staring you in the face. Or rather anywhere but. Then Theo meets your eyes once more.
"I think I could. If I'm not half way there already."
His words melt every bit of tension you had been feeling previously as you let out a breath that you didn't know you'd been holding.
"I think I'm half way there too."
Everyone say thank you to the beta readers @simplyastra and @nottendo 🫶🏽
the rumours about theodore nott’s size have been circulating around hogwarts like a wild current. and now that you’ve become his girlfriend, you can have your very own confirmation.
⧼ content/tw ⧽ 18+ mdni, smut with some plot, brief fingering, unprotected piv, size kink, belly bulge, girl talk about dicks, cursing, pet names including italian, fem!reader, all characters are aged up, no-war universe
⧼ nota bene ⧽ theodore nott’s redwood tree ain’t hard to see, is all i have to say. yes, i’m horny.
⧼ word count ⧽ 2.5k
“Okay, babe, you have to piss off, or I’ll hex you right now and won’t care about getting expelled.”
Cho rolled her eyes at your insistence to avoid her questions, but she was far from deterred from continuing on her path to find out the truth. She nudged you with her shoulder again, harder this time, as if that could somehow shake the answer right out of you.
“Come on, you have to tell us. It’s like, your duty at this point.”
Lavender nodded eagerly from your right side, her arms crossed on her chest in obvious determination. “Yeah, you must tell us, love,” she whined in that familiar tone of hers that meant she wasn’t getting what she wanted and didn’t like it one bit. “We’ve been dying to know. D-y-i-n-g. Don’t be a bitch.”
You shook your head in a resounding ‘no’, just a wrong breath away from stomping your foot like a fussy toddler. You loved your friends, you really did, but sometimes they were… Fucking insufferable, that’s what they were. Ever since Theo had asked you out—mind you, it happened only two meagre weeks ago, which was virtually nothing in terms of romantic relationships—they’ve been pestering you on and on and on about everything. Does he snore at night? Does he spoil you absolutely rotten? Is he actually Italian or just pretending for attention? This one was exceptionally stupid, even Lavender had to admit it after your astounded ‘What the fuck???’. But one of these never ending questions was the most persistent and frankly, horribly irritating: is Theo actually hung?
Of course, you weren’t a stranger to the rumours circulating your newly acquired boyfriend—in fact, you had participated in them multiple times before the two of you got together. But you also knew that at least two thirds of them were just that—rumours—and Theo wasn’t half as promiscuous as the student folk liked to imagine him as. Maybe it was his mysterious (really, just introverted as hell) persona, maybe it was the ambiguous way he’d never truly denied nor confirmed them, but ever since the two of you went official, your friends were hellbent on bullying you into doing just that.
“I hate you.” Cho huffed, taking note of the fact that her tried and true tactic of being as annoying as possible until you gave up was failing spectacularly. “Just a crumb, maybe? We’re not asking much.”
“Yeah, love, just yes or no,” Lavender joined in again, resorting to her best puppy eyes to try to coax the information out of you at last.
But you were unrelenting.
“Merlin, I am not talking about my boyfriend’s dick!” you exclaimed, and maybe it was a little too loud, since a few people lingering in the corridor glanced—some amused, some bewildered, it was embarrassing all the same.
Before Cho or Lavender could react, and it was very likely that they wouldn’t stop their interrogation anyway, you felt a cool hand settle on your waist from behind. Thank you, thank you, thank you, you repeated endlessly in your head as you turned around to face none other than him—Theo, your lovely, grumpy boyfriend who was eyeing your group of three with a slightly raised eyebrow. Nonchalant, as usual, but at that moment it was an actual saving grace.
“You ready to go?”
His smooth voice filled your ears like honey-laced liquor, and you felt every little drop of your earlier irritation melt away into the pot of lovelorn stupidity. What a sickening effect Theo’s presence had on you, you thought briefly, but quickly forgot all about thinking as soon as his hand pressed gently on your lower back, guiding you away from Lavender and Cho. They didn’t really protest—probably because neither of them had learned how to directly interact with Theo yet. Good. At least for now.
———
“You want to tell me, tesoro?”
“Huh?”
Your mind felt blissfully empty before Theo asked the question, so you didn’t really catch the meaning of it at first. You lifted your heavy head from Theo’s chest, where you had almost dozed off, and looked up. His expression was rather neutral—maybe a little more relaxed than usual thanks to the cuddles you so eagerly provided—but you could see that little hint of concern in the crease between his eyebrows. It was deeper than usual; you were getting better at learning his visual cues already.
“What do you mean? Tell you what?”
“Why you were so upset. When I got you away from your girls,” Theo explained, his fingers lightly caressing your back in silent reassurance. The pleasant little shivers they sent through your body were pretty distracting, but then you remembered what he was even asking about, and—
“Ugh, nothing. It’s stupid.”
You tried to shake off Theo’s worries, but the pout on your lips gave you away completely. It wasn’t even conscious, as if your body was getting pissy about that god-awful conversation by itself all over again. Of course, he noticed, and of course, he couldn’t let you bullshit him. He gave you enough cool down time already—three hours of quiet cuddling, no less—and had to ask to ease his own anxiety about your well-being.
“I know it’s not. You know I know. So just tell me.”
You sighed, realizing he was right, that you couldn’t really hide it. But fuck, it was really stupid…
“Cho and Lav are being fucking ridiculous,” you muttered, avoiding Theo’s gaze while simultaneously sneaking glances to check his reaction. “They’re…”
A groan, because why on Earth was it so awkward to talk about?
“They were asking about your dick.”
Theo stayed silent for a long moment, and you almost started to think he was getting ready to just up and leave because you had such shameless friends… But then, he chuckled. He rarely ever laughed, even with you, and he chose this moment out of everything to chuckle. He looked really good doing it, too—the dimple on his left cheek stood out like a small ray of sunshine in the dim lights of the dorm, a stray curl fell on his forehead. Theo was infuriatingly attractive.
“What?” you bristled indignantly, though there was a worried edge in your voice too. Was this the line? You had only been together for two damn weeks, and this was what did it?
“Amore.” Theo tried to will the smile away, but it creeped onto his lips anyway. The cute sight of it made your face light up—he wasn’t leaving at the very least, for sure. “You were so upset about your friends taking about my dick?”
“Well, yeah,” you grumbled, trying to figure out what to make of his reaction. “You’d be thrilled if Matt or Enzo started pestering you about my tits, I’m guessing.”
“They did.” Theo shrugged, like it was no big deal; with a good dose of satisfaction you noticed the barely-there tension in his jaw. “Told them to fuck off a couple of times, and that was it, pretty much. They stopped.”
“Lucky you.” You sighed, shifting against his side to get more comfortable in the face of your turmoil. Your thigh brushed against Theo’s crotch, and you definitely felt something sticking out there. Didn’t pay much attention, since your mind was still somewhat preoccupied. “I know it’s dumb, okay? I just hate this… mindset. Like they’re entitled to know all about your dick just ‘cause I’m dating you.”
“I get it.”
Theo was definitely getting turned on, you could tell by the restless way his hips shifted under your thigh. Yet he dutifully kept his composure for the sake of letting you vent. Boyfriend material, your mind immediately supplied. Good thing he already was exactly that.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I really do.”
Theo’s fingers continued slowly tracing circles on your back. The movements were deliberate, soothing, letting you relax further into his touch and honestly, turning you into a bit of a puddle—both figuratively and literally. Your own hips moved involuntarily against Theo’s thigh, the dampening spot between your legs rubbing against the fabric stuck between you—his sweats and your pyjama shorts. Theo’s exhale was rougher this time, and yet he kept to himself for now.
“I can talk to them,” he offered quietly. “If it bothers you so much, I’ll tell them to knock it off. Okay?”
You let out a breath, an invisible knot in your chest unraveling. It was a comforting thought, to know that your boyfriend took your concerns seriously and was on your side, not even thinking to blame you for the shit your friends were saying.
“I’m good, babe. But I’ll keep this in mind.”
You shifted up the bed to place a tiny kiss on his cheek.
“Thanks,” you murmured, and it finally sounded easy. Theo must’ve felt the shift in your body, your voice, your whole demeanor, because he mirrored it entirely. He turned to his side, your hips slotting against each other like perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, and it became painfully obvious just how aroused both of you were. You’d been suppressing the desire in favour of having the talk, but now that it was out of the way…
Love could run free.
Theo kissed you, your lips connecting softly at first, tentatively, as if he was feeling out the territory and the boundaries that he could potentially breach. Having met no resistance from your side, he deepened the kiss, one hand still resting lightly on your back as the other one cupped your jaw. It didn’t go lower yet, his thumb rubbing your skin to uncoil the last remaining traces of tension, but you knew he was barely holding back. You could feel his cock harden even more where it rested between your thighs, and you couldn’t help a slow roll against it.
“Cazzo,” he breathed into your mouth as he twitched in response, hips grinding leisurely into yours, though he was far from lazy. “You want that, yeah?”
Even though your damp shorts were enough of a proof, you still nodded, lips brushing his because you simply couldn’t pull away. “Yeah, I do. Really do.”
Theo didn’t need any more words. His hand left your face and skimmed over your side, your waist, then hip, and dipped into your shorts at last. His fingers found your folds, long slick with arousal, and circled your clit—something he never had trouble finding. Your breathless moan into his mouth made his cock twitch again, but it wasn’t his focus at the moment.
“I love how wet you get for me.” His voice was hoarse, raspy—it got like that whenever he was in the mood, and it made you that much hornier in return. “Means I’m doing it right, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you breathed back, grinding against his hand. Your impatience was showing, and he didn’t make you wait any longer—two fingers easily slipped into your entrance at once, squelching sounds filling the quiet of the dorm as Theo started moving them inside you.
Your lips stayed sealed together as he fingered you open, curling and pressing all the right spots he had come to know over the still-short period of your relationship. He took his time preparing you even though he could tell you were already hungry for his cock—he’d never risk hurting you if he could prevent it. But eventually his own desire started taking over as well—of course it did when he had his girl dripping all over his hand and rubbing her thigh against his aching erection over and over again.
Placing one last kiss on your swollen lips, Theo turned you onto your back, straightening up on his knees between yours.
“You ready?” he asked a little raggedly, palming himself through his sweatpants as he looked down at the perfect picture—you spread out before him, panting with arousal, hands already tugging at your shorts to get rid of them as soon as possible.
“Always. For you, always.”
When he pulled his pants down just enough to free himself, you couldn’t help it—you stared it his cock as if it was the first time you’d seen it. He was big, you realized once again—not that you hadn’t before, but it felt like the thought hit you with renewed force. Long and thick, flushed red, as if Theo’s entire blood flow rushed straight down there; pulsing veins running up the shaft and ending at the glistening tip. He was already leaking generously, and each drop of precum dripping down to his taut balls made you want to lick them all up and slurp. But now wasn’t the time. Theo was set on pleasuring you tonight.
“You like it, huh?” he murmured, lowering onto his forearms to hover just above you. “Like when my cock’s hard just for you, amore?”
The answer could never be anything other than a ‘yes’ moaned against his lips when he finally sank into you—slowly, carefully at first, until he was fully sheathed inside your clenching pussy. His cock throbbed insistently as he tried to give you time to adjust, groaning quietly into your mouth when he felt your warm walls gripping him just the right way.
“You’re gonna milk me dry, love.” Theo chuckled tensely, at this point unsure if he was going to last as long as he’d want to. But when you whimpered, rolling your hips against his to urge him to move, his tight self-control snapped in half, like a thread thinned out by the burning flame of your need.
His thrusts weren’t fast, but they were deep—oh fuck, were they. Each one seemed to hit a new spot inside you, echoing intensely up your spine, in your belly, everywhere he could possibly reach. Theo couldn’t keep his eyes fixed on anything in particular—they drifted over your blissed out face, then down to where your bodies connected, watching his cock slide smoothly in and out of your cunt, sweat-slick skin slapping against each other again and again. But when he saw it—the bulge in your lower stomach that appeared and disappeared every time his felt his tip grind against your cervix—his vision nearly blurred. How come he’d never noticed it before?
It was the hottest sight he had ever had the honour to witness.
“You feel me? Right here,” he rasped out, one hand resting at that perfect spot where your belly rose and fell in time with his movements. You nodded, your shut eyes opening just enough to see exactly what he was talking about—his cock making your flesh shift, the act itself like a claim on you he hadn’t intended to lay.
“So fucking big,” you breathed out, nails scratching Theo’s back harder when his thrusts grew sloppier, faster.
“And all yours,” he whispered, his lips colliding with yours in a heated kiss once more. “This cock’s all yours, amore. Doesn’t fucking matter what people say, yeah? You know you own it all.”
And when you came shamelessly all over that cock a few intense, mind-numbing seconds later, a brief thought flickered through your fucked out mind—you owned Theodore Nott’s cock, and you’d lie if you weren’t awfully, terrifically jealous of yourself.
summary: (includes smut) you and theodore have been friends since 4th year, and are like peas in a pod. there's nothing that can separate the two of you. so when theodore becomes increasingly jealous at the attention you're receiving after your glow-up the summer before 7th year, he decides he needs to take matters into his own hands.
authors note: i lowkey hate this i can't lie... but i really just wanna get all of my stuff out since i'm not going to be able to write NEARLY as much for essentially the whole summer :( anyway hope u all enjoy this!
🌷 masterlist
Everyone knew Theodore Nott was good-looking, in that effortless way where he never had to try to get other people’s attention and affections. Even so, he never let his ego swell, and never really paid attention to his or other people’s looks. He gave his hair a good tousle in the mornings, and that was that. He just assumed that’s what everyone else did. When his friends would rank girls in their year from prettiest to ugliest, Theodore could never give his opinion. He didn’t have one. He simply just never thought about those sorts of things.
Most people were surprised when the two of you became friends in 4th year. You weren’t ugly, no, but let’s just say you weren’t exactly a head turner. But none of that mattered to Theodore. That’s why your friendship with him was so refreshing. He understood you on a level that no one else did, because he saw who you were past your physical features that everyone else saw as unflattering or as flaws. He appreciated you for your humor and wit, the way you read people’s emotions easily, how you can turn any bad situation into a good one from sheer mindset alone. You were more of a side character to the rest of the world who viewed him as the main one, but the two of you were best friends, and that was all you guys needed.
The summer before you and Theodore’s last year at Hogwarts changed everything. Theodore had spent his summer with family in Italy, as he always did. But you were in for a change. Instead of heading to London like you did every summer, you and your girlfriends took a trip to visit the beaches of France. London was always awfully dreary and bleak, so imagine everyone’s surprise when you came back to Hogwarts looking tanner and… different. Very different.
Your personality remained the same, your carefree spirit still shining through. Your laugh, your friends, your brain, all worked the same. But everything about you, physically was different. You knew something was different immediately when Mattheo, Theodore’s best mate, actually asked you how your summer went when you met up with them in the train car on the way to Hogwarts. You almost choked on your water when he acknowledged your existence seemingly for the first time in the 3 years you had known him.
It was just a few weeks into the school year, and you were already receiving a bountiful amount of attention from boys. Boys, who in previous years had either ignored you or avoided you. Suddenly, everyone wanted to be your Potions partner. Everyone wanted to talk to you during meals in the Great Hall. Even girls were trying to recruit you into their social circles, acting like they were close with you or like they had been friends with you since forever. You didn’t mind the attention, no, but Theodore did. He hated it.
He knew it was selfish, but he had always thought of you as his best friend, and his best friend only. Even though he had a line of people waiting to be his friend (or more), he couldn’t stand the thought of you replacing him with someone funnier, more interesting, more deserving to be your best friend. He hated himself for every punch he felt in his gut when you smiled at another girl or waved at another boy. He hated himself even more for how weak he felt, and how he had no power to stop it.
But most of all, he hated himself for falling victim to this new charm of yours. He hated himself for noticing when your smile would linger on him, when your crinkled eyes would shine as they looked at him. He hated himself for watching you from across the room, just like every other bloke was now doing. He hated himself for not being able to control the blush that lingered on his cheeks every time your hand grazed his forearm or your foot touched his under a table. Theodore felt like he was losing his mind.
He knew he was bound to break, at one point or another. This tipping point just happened to be after the opening quidditch match of the season. Slytherin lost to Hufflepuff, out of all houses, which had only rubbed salt in the wound for Theodore. He had spent almost every second of the game focusing more on making sure his facial expressions didn’t look weird to you instead of catching the actual snitch. Of course, everything that he wanted to go right went wrong, and he ended up almost face-planting into the grass a multitude of times. After the match, he was absolutely pissed, mud stains everywhere and a clear look of frustration painted across his face. All he wanted was to see you and talk to you. So when he found you casually chatting with a Hufflepuff who’s face looked way too smug in Theodore’s opinion, he swore he could’ve exploded with anger. He wanted nothing more than to punch that smirk off of the Hufflepuff’s face. That would teach him a lesson.
“Hey,” Theodore murmurs from behind you right beside your ear, his glare fixed on the Hufflepuff as a sort of silent threat. You touch her, you’re dead.
“Theo!” you jump, startled as you turn your head around to look at him. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“We need to talk,” Theodore says simply, paying no regard to your question at all, turning all of his attention towards you. The Hufflepuff opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Theodore’s hand is on your arm, dragging you away firmly, your steps stumbling before eventually falling into rhythm next to his.
Theodore eventually drags you into the locker room, and you immediately shut your eyes, afraid of seeing something you shouldn’t. “Theo- I can’t be in here-”
“Who was that?” Theodore interrupts sharply, disrupting your train of thought. “And open your eyes. There’s no one here. The match ended ages ago,” he says bitterly, as if all of the time he had spent looking for you was somehow your fault.
You follow his command, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “Ow- Theo!” you exclaim after yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Merlin, he’s just some guy I met in Potions. What has gotten into you?” As soon as the words fall from your lips, you start to notice his weariness, how taught his body stance is, and the dirt stains all over his uniform. Your heart starts to feel heavy with sympathy, but the moment is quickly broken.
“Just some guy?” Theodore repeats your words dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm. “He was looking at you like you were some piece of meat.” He rakes a hand through his damp hair, messy from flying, and exhales sharply. An Italian curse slips out from under his breath: “Stronzo.”
“Look,” he mutters, suddenly avoiding your eyes. “I don’t care who talks to you or whatever, but don’t just stand there smiling at them like that.”
Your eyes narrow, and you start to get defensive. “Since when do you dictate my choices?” you shoot back, feeling utterly confused by his difference in behavior. Theodore stiffens at your words, his dark eyes flashing with some emotion that you can’t quite name—hurt? Frustration? You can tell he doesn't like the tone in your voice. Not one bit.
“I’m not dictating anything,” he snaps, but it lacks its usual edge. “I just… fuck, bambina…” His tone makes you feel weak in the knees, your hand subconsciously grabbing his wrist to support him. He drags a hand down his face, exhaling hard through gritted teeth. Seemingly for once, Theodore, the guy who always has a snarky comeback or cold dismissal ready, is struggling to find words. “Since when do you let random people talk to you like that?” It comes out more vulnerable than intended, possessive without him meaning it to be.
“People just come up to me,” you answer defensively, crossing your arms over your chest as if ready to start a fight with him. “I don’t know. You’re the one who’s the expert on this kind of stuff.”
“Oh, don’t start,” Theodore mutters, his voice tighter than he intended. He forces himself to breathe, to catch his breath, to chill the fuck out. The way you crossed your arms with a protective and guarded stance, because of him, made an ugly feeling twist in his stomach. “Merlin, everyone is noticing now.” He seems to finally look at you properly, his dark eyes looking into yours. He has new freckles on his face now, probably from summer days in Italy that you hadn’t been a part of. It mildly irritates you, that even just standing there, pissed off, he looks unfairly good. Your throat goes dry.
“It’s just… weird,” is all Theodore can manage to say. This isn’t even about the Hufflepuff anymore.
“I think it’s weird too,” you say slowly, not really seeing where Theodore was trying to go with this. “But, it’s not like it changes anything between us. Right?”
It hits him then, as he looks at your clueless expression, that you haven’t changed at all, even with the new attention. It hits him like a bludger to the chest: you have no idea. No idea that he’d been watching. Noticing. Wanting.
“No,” he says a little too quickly, a little too stiff. “Of course not.” Yet, his eyes betray him. Dark and stormy with something unspoken as they flick over your face one more time before darting away again to the wall behind you. You awkwardly shift from one foot to the other, not really knowing what to say. This is uncharted territory for you—it had never been awkward with Theodore before. Even though you had both literally just agreed that nothing had changed, it feels like something has. You can tell that Theodore noticed the shift to awkwardness and hesitation as well, and that just made you feel even worse. This quiet tension between you two is completely foreign. You’ve never felt uncomfortable or cautious around him before, or second-guessed words or silences.
Theodore clears his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Wanna smoke?” he blurts out suddenly, jerking his chin toward the exit. You stifle a laugh, nodding a yes, and a tiny, relieved smirk tugs at his mouth. Typical Theodore, breaking the silence by asking for a smoke break. Although it did make the moment feel less gauche and more natural. “Let me get out of my uniform real quick.”
Once Theodore is wearing his robes, the two of you walk to your usual nook—a dimly lit alcove half-hidden by a stone arch. Theodore leans against the wall, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offering you one first. You hold the cigarette between your fingers and between your lips, leaning slightly forward so Theodore can light you up. The small flame that emits from his silver lighter casts shadows across his sharp features, and you can’t help but notice the haunting sort of beauty that he possesses. The routine feels familiar, safe. Something the two of you have done countless times before. You haven’t told a soul, but these memories of smoking with Theodore in the oddest places are some of your most cherished ones.
After Theodore lights his own cigarette, he takes a deep drag before exhaling smoke through slightly parted lips. For a second, the two of you just stand there, silent but comfortable again, the tension from earlier easing with each shared breath.
“So, do you want to talk about the shit show of the match you just had, or no?” you ask calmly, watching and waiting for his reaction through the smoke. He only scoffs, rolling his eyes, but it lacks real annoyance. It’s akin to exhausted resignation.
“Fuck no,” he mutters, tapping ash onto the stone floor. “I swear, my broom was possessed by some spiteful pixie or something.” He takes another drag before adding dryly, “Draco cheered so hard when I almost ate shit in mid-air.” The mental image of Draco laughing at Theodore makes you giggle. Or maybe it was just the nicotine in your bloodstream now. “Bloody stupid move, too. I should’ve just stuck to basic formations.”
You shrug. “Taking risks is fine. I’m sure you’ll do great next time. Malfoy’s a bitch, anyway.” Theodore snorts at that, smoke curling around the two of you as he smirks at your bluntness. Merlin, have you missed this. Talking to Theodore about everything and nothing, feeling completely at ease with him.
“Sì, absolutely,” he agrees, taking another lazy drag. “Draco’s got the personality of a moldy sock.” His insult makes you chuckle, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you start to concentrate on blowing rings with the smoke of your cigarette. Theodore watches you, mesmerized, as your rings curl and float between the two of you like ghostly hoops. It’s stupid. So stupid. But there’s something oddly comforting about this situation—the quiet shared smoke, the way your fingers hold the cigarette so gracefully and with practiced ease. It all makes his stomach do a traitorous little flip.
He quickly looks away before his thoughts can take root any further. “Show off,” he mutters instead of grabbing your body closer to his to kiss you senseless, which is what he really wants to do.
“You’re the one who taught me that, idiot,” you murmur, smiling up at him through your hooded eyes. Theodore’s breath hitches as he realizes how close the two of you really are, almost touching, and suddenly, the small space between the two of you feels charged.
“Oh, did I now?” Theodore plays dumb, but his voice comes out lower than intended. Rough around the edges. His words along with the teasing lilt in his voice make you subconsciously press your thighs together. He shifts slightly, accidentally-on-purpose closing that last inch so that his chest presses lightly against yours. You can feel his warmth through his robes. Merlin, this is dangerous. How can something as simple as leaning on each other feel like foreplay?
“You did,” you retort, swatting his shoulder gently with your free hand. “Don’t play dumb.” Theodore lets out a quiet huff of laughter, caught, yet he doesn’t bother to deny it. Instead, he just stays there, close to you, smoke curling into the air between you two like lazy whispers. It’s nice. Maybe even too nice. The kind of peace that makes your chest ache because it feels different now, the familiarity tangled up with something new and terrifyingly fragile.
Theodore takes one last drag before discarding the butt of his cigarette, his dark eyes fixed on your lips as you take another puff. “Wanna ditch dinner?” he murmurs, one hand moving to tuck a stray curl of hair behind your ear. His touch is so soft it makes your heart stutter. “I’ve got firewhisky in my dorm.”
You chuckle, shaking your head at his antics. “You’re just trying to avoid your friends so they can’t make fun of how badly you played today,” you tease softly.
“Maybe,” he admits shamelessly, nudging you softly. “Mattheo wouldn’t shut up about it. Called me ‘Disastro Nott’ twice already.” He plucks your finished cigarette from your fingertips, discarding it the same way he did his own. He has this habit of always finishing what you started, which you honestly find endearing. “Plus, I’d rather be with you anyway,” he adds, quieter now.
A cheeky smile adorns your face, his small confession making your heart swell. Despite all of the attention you’re getting from others lately, you still only glow under Theodore’s recognition and no one else's. “Let’s go then?” you say softly, interlocking your pinky with his, a habit you can’t seem to break since forming it sometime during 4th year when Theodore had to drag you away from a stray Puffskein that you wanted to smuggle back into Hogwarts and keep as a pet.
“Let’s go,” he responds, already turning to lead the way. The two of you walk close together, no rush or pretenses, your arm brushing against his with every step toward the dungeons. Just the usual flowy chatter that you will never tire of.
Once you step inside his dorm room, Theodore kicks the door shut behind you. His area of the room is typically messy, with clothes strewn over his chair, a half-empty bottle of cologne sitting on his desk, posters for Italian football teams peeling at the corners off the wall. Stepping into his space is like seeing all the layers of him, unfiltered and laid out. You always feel honored every time you’re let in to see something so personal.
He beelines straight for the small trunk under his bed where he kept most of his prohibited items, pulling out a bottle of amber firewhisky for the two of you to share. “Come here,” he mutters, and of course you follow without hesitation, sitting down next to him on his bed. You watch him twist off the cork with practiced ease, your gaze intense as he takes a swig straight from the bottle. “No glasses. We’ll have to drink like this.”
“Fine with me.” You take the bottle from him, taking a sip and wincing as the liquor slides down and burns your throat. “So, do you sneak girls into your dorm to do this often, or what?” You hand the bottle back to him, taking off your outer robe and throwing it somewhere across the room, the alcohol and your vicinity to Theodore making you feel warm. His gaze flickers to your legs, your skirt hiding close to nothing, and he quickly looks away, his throat bobbing with a controlled restraint.
Theodore scoffs at your words, as if they’re the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Though, it’s not even a weird question to ask. Everyone knows that Theodore is nothing short of a ladies man. He has women fawning at his feet, waiting at his beck and call at any hour of the day. But he’s never paid attention to them before. He only pays attention to you. “This shit is for me and Mattheo. Occasionally Pansy if she needs a pick-me-up.”
Pansy. Her name makes your heart twist uncomfortably in your chest, yet you avoid dwelling on it. You hate the thought that Theodore might prefer other girls over you. But that’s just because he’s your best friend. Right?
You take the bottle as he hands it back to you, taking a larger swig this time. Swallowing is a challenge. Theodore moves to lean against the headboard of his bed, his long legs stretching out behind you as you sit on the edge of the bed. He watches you drink, and notices everything. The way your throat bobs as you swallow, how your nose scrunches slightly at the burn.
“You alright?” He asks quietly, not about Pansy, but about this. About sitting so close on his bed like it was normal when everything felt anything but. You bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something you’ll regret later.
“I just… I mean, maybe it’s just me. But don’t we feel, like, disconnected lately?” Theodore watches you turn your gaze around to him, and the thought of him being so wrapped up in his own stupid jealousy, noticing everyone else looking at you, that he hasn’t even considered how you might feel, makes him sick. He grabs the bottle from your hands, placing it down on the nightstand next to his bed, before he gestures you over. He contracts a leg so that you can move to sit in between them, setting it down again once you’re in the middle.
“Yeah,” he admits roughly. “We do.” One of his hands grabs your wrist gently to rub his thumb over your pulse point, as a soothing gesture. Your heart is beating fast.
“Do you– I mean, do you not…” you hesitate, not sure how to articulate your words properly without sounding like an insecure girlfriend. “Do you not like me anymore? Do you not want to be as close?”
Theodore’s facial expression twists, as if he can’t even fathom your words ever being true. “No,” he says fiercely, a bit too loud and immediate. Then, quieter, with his jaw clenched, “Merlin, it’s the opposite. I’m…” he trails off, fingers flexing uselessly against the bed sheets, his grip on your wrist tightening ever so slightly, as if he never wants to let go. How can he put this into words? That he’s been losing his mind over how hot you’ve gotten? That every guy looking at you made him want to punch something?
Instead of explaining, he speaks simply. Truly. “I miss us.”
You look down at where his hand is holding your wrist so tenderly, and you get the sudden urge to throw yourself onto him. It was definitely a bad decision on your part to mix your substances. Your thoughts are running wild, and you feel like you can’t control them. “I do too,” you whisper, feeling shy all of a sudden as you start to pick at the sheets under you with your free hand.
Theodore reaches out without thinking, calloused fingers under your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “Look at me,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. It lingers there for half a second too long to be considered casual, before dropping his hand like you burned him.
You tilt your head to the side, a clear look of confusion painted on your face. “Are you drunk or something?” Theodore lets out a short, breathless laugh.
“After a few sips? No, tesoro. I’m just… fuck.” He rakes a hand through his hair, his eyes finally meeting yours again. “I just missed this. Missed you. All summer.”
You can’t help yourself as you lean into him, settling into the familiar warmth of his body, his arm instinctually wrapping around your figure as you lean your head on his shoulder. You want to blame your behavior on the alcohol, on the nicotine, but deep down you know that this is your desire, your choice. “I missed you all summer too. I wanted to be in Italy with you.”
“Should’ve brought you,” he mutters into your hair, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.”
“I would’ve loved that,” you whisper, fully committing to your act as he helps you settle on his lap by putting your side onto his chest, the firewhisky burning a pit in your stomach and definitely giving you more confidence than usual. It feels painfully natural, the physical closeness between the two of you.
“Sei così bella,” Theodore whispers into your hair, his other hand tracing slow circles on your hip, his touches igniting a fire across your body, pooling low in your stomach.
“Translation, per favore,” you mumble, utilizing a phrase that Theodore had taught you years ago when you asked to learn parts of his native language. Your request made Theodore feel like the happiest man on the planet, but it also surprised him that it was possible for someone to care about him and understand him so deeply to the point of trying to learn something that he held close to his heart. He adores the fact that you remember.
You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his natural scent making you feel woozy. “You’re drunk,” he says in a stupidly fond voice, your closeness completely short-circuiting his brain. “You’re so cute when you speak Italian.” His fingers trail up to tangle gently in your hair, just playing with the strands. This whole scene is so fucking domestic it makes his chest ache.
“Shut up.” A warm blush climbs up the back of your neck, and you hide your face in his shirt. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m trying.” You can feel the rumble of Theodore’s chest as he laughs, deep and warm.
“Never,” he murmurs, stroking your head softly, caressing you as if you were some sort of pet. He isn’t making fun of you; if anything, it’s the opposite. The way you’re trying so hard for him sends a dose of pure joy straight through his heart.
“So what did you do all summer?” You ask, lifting your head off of his shoulder to be able to look at him, your hands on either side of him to prop yourself up. “Forget about me?” You can’t help but lean in subconsciously, your desire to be closer to him only heightened by the liquid courage coursing through your body.
You can feel Theodore’s entire body locking up the second your eyes met his, an almost pained look painted on his face. “Of course not,” he says softly, and you can feel yourself drowning in his eyes, in his presence, almost losing yourself in the process. “I thought about you every day, amorina, you know that.” You and Theodore had written to each other all summer, as the two of you always did every year. His letters detailed his adventures with his family, to what kind of snack he had on a random hike. But he never failed to mention how badly he missed you. It was your favorite part of each letter he’d write.
“Then why didn’t you tell me to come?” you huff, rubbing your eye with one of your hands, fighting the urge to yawn all of a sudden. Being with Theodore always made you feel safe, and therefore, sleepy. “France got boring after a while.”
“I didn’t think you were missing me like that,” he admits, his own hand brushing your cheek reverently. His tone has an air of vulnerability to it, as if he’s unsure of your affections. The tension is palpable; you can practically feel its presence physically straining between the two of you, your bodies pulling each other in like magnets. It feels impossible to stop yourself from wanting to be close to him, from wanting him to pay attention to you. At the end of the day, even with all of the new affections you’ve been receiving from others, you’d give it all up in a second just for Theodore to stay your best friend.
“So you’re admitting in person that you missed me, then?” You can’t help but tease him, feeling the weight of his words physically manifesting on your face in the form of a blush. Theodore’s eyes glint in the light, his smile deepening into a smirk as he grabs your hips, his thumbs tracing the skin under your shirt, giving you goosebumps on your arms.
“Of course. I missed you a lot. Every day. I’ll never be ashamed to admit that.” His voice is low, the look in his eyes scarily real and unguarded, as if he’s baring his heart out for you to do whatever you want with it. The atmosphere turns even more tense, even more charged, and you can feel your heart about to beat out of your chest. This closeness isn’t exactly new—the two of you had cuddled before, shared tiny spaces together, teased each other for years. But this energy was unlike anything you have experienced before, with him and in your life in general.
You whisper Theodore’s name softly, heart pounding as you watch him watch you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” You can feel his chest quickly rising and falling, a sharp exhale through his nose at the sound of his name on your lips.
“No,” he confesses, voice gravelly. He lowers his head slightly, chest pressing against yours as one of his hands cradles your jaw. “I’m not okay.” His nose nudges your cheek, his hot breath trailing down your neck sending shivers down your spine. “I want you.”
“You have me,” you reply innocently, your mind not able to catch up to the pace in which Theodore was now setting for your relationship. “You always have. Since fourth year.”
Theodore’s breath catches, because until now, he hadn’t realized that “having you” could mean this. That “having you” could involve his hips grinding softly against yours, his lips grazing your jawline, his eyes drinking in this vulnerable side of you that no one else was ever able to see, that your shared history didn’t need to stop at the occasional smoking rendezvous, or studying in the library, or you cheering him on at quidditch matches.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the spot behind your ear, inhaling your vanilla scent that was seemingly always stuck in your hair, feeling absolutely drunk off the high your presence is providing. “It’s making me crazy.”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” you whisper breathlessly, boldly, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips touch your skin, your hands helplessly gripping his forearms. You’re not sure if you should push him away. You don’t want to.
“So, you’re admitting you’re mine, then?” He moves to be eye-level with you, and you can feel his long lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, his nose nudging against yours. The golden specks in his eyes shimmer in the warm lighting, and you swear you can melt right then and there, the endless abyss of his irises pulling you into the point of no escape.
Before you can even come up with a response that isn’t I love you so much it hurts, Theodore gingerly, hesitantly, presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. His eyes are open, watching your reaction, a silent question of if this is okay, if this is crossing any boundaries, and you have to stay calm, pretending like this isn’t what you’ve been praying for since you were 14.
But his lips also bring you back to Earth. What was this? Theodore Nott? Your best friend? Kissing you? You’re stuck in this state of shock where you’re unable to kiss him back but also unable to shove him away. Theodore can feel your hesitation the second his lips half-meet yours, and he breaks the almost-kiss just as fast as he initiates it, his forehead moving to rest against yours.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Too much?” Theodore’s whole body is tense with restraint now, giving you every chance to push him away. But Merlin is he hoping that you don’t. He’d dreamt about this.
Your eyebrows furrow with anxiety, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip to try and calm yourself. You look deep in thought. “Are you just, like, taking advantage of this situation? Because I’m here?” Your voice cracks. You can’t help it. This onslaught of emotions has taken you more off guard than you were prepared for. “Is this all I mean to you? Just an easy hookup? And then we can just forget about it or something?”
Theodore recoils from you like you’ve slapped him. “No,” he replies immediately, his voice sharp with offense. “Fuck no.” He removes his body from yours entirely, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back towards you, as if he can’t even bear to look at you after what you just said, running both hands down his face. “Amore… Dio, I’ve liked you. For months. This isn’t–” a frustrated growl escapes him. “This isn’t some random shit.”
You immediately follow him, sitting up on the bed next to him, propping yourself up with your hands behind your back. “I… I don’t understand, Theo. I thought that we’re… best friends.” He turns to look at you, his expression wrecked, equal parts frustration and exposed.
“We are. Fuck, that’s the whole problem.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “I want to stay your best friend, but I also want to kiss you with everything I have in me. I don’t–” another rough pause. “I don’t know how to do both.”
You slowly crawl towards him, your hands eventually making their way into his lap, your body propped up on your knees. “Let’s just try,” you whisper almost helplessly. You’re going through the same dilemma as him; it’s not like you want to change your dynamic, exactly, but the physical pull you feel towards him is undeniable, your need and desire for him overcoming any rational thought. You’ve always felt this pull towards Theodore, loving his attention and loving his touch. What would the harm be in seeing where things go, if things would turn into something more?
Theodore’s hands hover uncertainly at your hips, wanting to touch but needing permission first. “Yes,” he whispers back with no hesitation, leaning in slowly. “We can… try.” Then, his lips meet yours again—softer now, more exploratory. A test run of something that could either ruin or change everything.
You sigh softly into the kiss, tilting your head to deepen it. You shudder when Theodore’s hands land on your waist, steadying you by pulling you into his lap again, your legs straddling him. You can hear your heartbeat loudly in your ears, and you feel almost lightheaded because of how giddy you are that this is finally happening. This is definitely uncharted territory for you; you’ve only ever kissed one other boy before, back in 5th year, and it was a total shit show. But kissing your best friend? It feels so good, and so right.
Theodore groans into your mouth as you deepen the kiss, his grip on you tightening and pulling you flush against him as he drinks in everyone one of your shaky breaths, all of your tiny shudders. It all goes straight to his already hard cock, the one you can feel under your skirt between your legs. You feel absolutely not in control of yourself, your body taking the lead as you helplessly grind onto him.
“You taste sweet,” he mutters in between kisses, sliding one hand to cradle the back of your neck and angling for better access like this was something the two of you had been doing forever, something familiar and normal. You can only whine as he kisses you, his nimble hands gracefully undoing your tie, throwing it somewhere before slowly unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your pink bra. “Matches the color of your cheeks,” he teases, eyes darkening as he drinks in the sight of a part of you he’s never seen before. “You’re so beautiful.” His hands slide up your bare stomach, calloused thumbs brushing over the lace—teasing, but not rushing, every touch of his extremely deliberate.
“Theo,” you whimper, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to ease the tension you were feeling, your hips subconsciously jumping slightly. “Don’t tease.”
“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty to not be toyed with,” he mutters, palming your right breast through the lace. His thumb circles your nipple, teasing the hard peak as his other hand slips under the fabric to pinch it directly. You can feel his cock strained against his sweats beneath you, and you can’t help but moan at all of the sensations mixing together, your hands squeezing on the area between his shoulders and neck.
“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, eyes blown wide in admiration, drinking in every sound you make and every tiny twitch. Theodore can feel your tension, the way you jump at every touch, the tight clench of your body. “You’ve never been touched like this before, have you?” The question makes you blush with embarrassment, but the feeling quickly subsides as he kisses you gently, reassuringly. “Tell me what feels good,” he whispers against your lips. “Please, bambina? Let me make you feel good. Let me make you feel things you’ll never be able to feel with any other man.”
Fuck. Your pussy clenches around nothing, your head in the clouds as you nod helplessly, because if he didn’t touch you more and now you feel like you might die. “It feels so good,” is the only response you can give, whining every time his fingers flick your nipple or massage your breast in his hand. Theodore’s chest swells with pride and the dangerous urge to ruin you so fucking good.
“Brava, my good girl,” he praises softly, before dipping his head to replace his fingers with his mouth. His tongue swipes over your nipple, his hand pulling the lace to the side before sucking hard, one hand still working your other breast. You gasp at the new sensation, and you can’t stop yourself from grinding even harder onto him, desperate for friction, the pleasure filling your senses. Every moan and movement that he elicits from you goes straight to his aching cock, so hard it’s physically hurting him. You didn’t even know it was possible to feel like this. To feel so good you could pass out.
Every rut of your hips against his throbbing cock makes him groan, the feeling of your wet heat through fabric almost too much to bear. “Dio, you feel that?” he rasps, lifting his head to watch you unravel. Your skin is damp from his mouth, glistening in the light, your nipples peaked and pretty. He slides a hand under your skirt, palming the soaked gusset of your panties. “You want more?” he asks almost mockingly, as if you aren’t completely wrecked and pliant on top of him.
You can’t say anything but his name, over and over again, as your head falls onto his shoulder. Theodore flips your skirt up for better access, not even bothering to take it fully off. “I-I feel weird,” you say powerlessly, the arousal growing in you with every passing second. You can feel Theodore’s breath coming faster and faster as he revels in the way you fall apart for him.
“Weird good, hm?” he assures you, nipping at your shoulder before his fingers slip under your panties, two of his fingers sliding through your folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, circling your clit slowly with his thumb. “You’ve soaked me already, principessa.”
“Oh, Theo!” you exclaim, moaning softly as he toys with your clit. You’ve never felt any sensation like this before, and your toes curl as you buck your hips closer to his hand. “Fuck,” you whimper, legs shaking with purse desire. Theodore clearly loves the sounds you’re making, biting down harshly onto your collarbone or neck every time a desperate whimper leaves your lips.
He presses two fingers inside your cunt without warning, curling them just right as his thumb keeps working your clit. “Just like that, baby,” he coaxes, watching your face contort in pleasure. “Squeeze my fingers, tesoro. You’re doing so well.”
You whimper his name, biting your lip as your pussy clenches around his fingers. “Feels– ngh, feels tight.”
“I know,” Theodore murmurs, kissing your jaw as he pumps his fingers, stretching you just right, touching a part of you that you yourself hadn’t ever reached. Your virgin cunt is clenching around him like a vise, and it takes every ounce of his self-control to not flip you onto the bed and fuck you properly. “Relax, amorina,” he murmurs, slowly adding a third finger. You moan loudly at the intrusion, the sting of pain only adding to your pleasure.
The coil in your stomach becomes tighter with every passing second, your hips wildly chasing the pleasure that only Theodore can provide. “I-I feel weird, Theo. Please.” You don’t even know what exactly you’re begging for, only that you feel so dangerously close to something, only that you might float away if not for your hands digging into his shoulders, grounding you.
Theodore, on the other hand, knows exactly what you’re begging for. “I’ve got you, baby. You can cum, I know you can.” He curls his fingers against your g-spot, his thumb still rubbing circles onto your clit. Your back arches, your head tilted back as the coil in your stomach snaps. A borderline scream tears from your throat as you orgasm violently, for the first time, on his hand. Theodore holds you through it, fingers still working your pulsing walls gently as you cum. As he watches you, he vaguely thinks to himself that he’ll never be able to forget the way your cunt milks his hand, the way your skin shines with sweat, the way your mouth parts to form a perfect ‘O’ shape as you cum with his name on your lips.
“Good job, bella,” he praises, kissing your chest as you calm down from your high, holding you through the aftershocks as he pulls his fingers out with a slick pop. “You did amazing,” he whispers into your ear before kissing you softly. And then, simply because he can’t help himself, he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.
“Theo,” you hiss, grabbing his wrist to try and stop him, but feeling too tired to use any of your strength. “That’s revolting.”
Theodore responds only with a smirk. “No, you’re delicious. I love how messy you are for me,” he teases as he licks the last of your arousal off. You shove his shoulder gently, your face red with embarrassment.
“Will you shut up?” you grumble, letting your body collapse against his. You feel limp, boneless, spent. Theodore’s lips find yours again, and he kisses you slow and lazy, different from the hungry ones earlier. You can taste yourself in his mouth, and you should find it disgusting, but you don’t. If anything, you find it hot.
Theodore breaks away just enough to murmur, “you okay?” His free hand strokes your back soothingly. You can tell he sees how wrecked you feel, your eyes heavy with drowsiness, your mind clouded with the aftermath of pleasure.
“Mhm,” is the only reply you can manage, your body completely reliant on Theodore’s to be able to sit upright. You know you should probably be thinking more about the implications of this event on your relationship, but the only thing you can think about is how good it feels to be able to touch Theodore in this intimate way and have him touch you as well. You feel fucking estatic.
“That was good, no? And with just my fingers.” You scoff, burrowing your face into the crook of Theodore’s neck, letting him pick you up and set you down onto his bed.
“You’re so cocky.” But as soon as your head hits the pillows, all of your sassy remarks escape you, the feeling of tiredness quickly overcoming you. Theodore laughs unguardedly and brushes the hair out of your face, hovering over you as he watches your eyes flutter shut.
“You should focus more on resting than insulting me, you know?” Theodore murmurs, laying down on his side next to you, admiring the blissed out look on your face, the flush of your body, your exposed skin.
You turn your head towards him, opening your eyes to make eye-contact. “But what about you?” You gesture to his painfully hard cock, still straining under his sweats.
“It’s not for you to worry about, amore,” Theodore says kindly, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll let you take care of me next time, hm?”
Your heart swells. “Next time?” you whisper breathlessly, wide eyes looking up at him. Theodore has always loved this about you—that your emotions are always painted so clearly on your face. You’re the definition of an open book.
“What, are you not interested?” he murmurs seductively, his dead eyes searching yours yet again, a devilish smirk painted onto his face.
You huff, cheeks puffing out as you shake your head. “Why do you always have to tease me?” Theodore chuckles at that, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he breathes in your scent again, now mixed with the distinct smell of sex. You cannot wait for the next time Theodore ruins you.
“Sorry, bambina. You’re so sweet, I just can’t help it.”
