“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.”
To be added to a taglist, please send me an ask! (I might respond to you in comments but I can’t guarantee that I won’t accidentally miss it)
theodore nott x reader who was promised to him at birth with pure blood politics blah blah blah
she's his future wife, everyone knows this. it's like... a blood pact, etc.
except they grow up like the bestest of friends
except they're already each other's person and they think it's just being best friends
except when they're old enough to understand romance, they're horrified at the thought of resigning to the cliche
jokes like:
"Theo?"
"Mhm."
"I'm going to hogsmeade with hermione and the others this weekend"
"No.'
"...Excuse me?"
"That group contains five Gryffindors, Weasley twins included. Statistically, you will either be arrested or blown up before you even got to Hogsmeade"
"I wasn't asking for your permission"
A lazy smirk. "Pity. Denied anyway."
"Oh my God, Theo, you don’t own me."
He finally looked up then, dark eyes glittering with amusement.
"Technically,” he said smoothly, “according to several ancient contracts, ministry-recognized family accords, and at least one magically binding inheritance law- I do, so-"
Smack.
You hit his arm hard enough to make him wince.
"OW-"
"Shut UP."
Theo started laughing immediately, actually laughing, head dropping back against the sofa while you tried not to grin.
"You truly are insufferable."
"And yet," he said, catching your wrist before you could hit him again, still smiling, "you remain legally obligated to tolerate me."
UGHHH i have an exam tomorrow but who gives a fuckkk
"Jesus swwetheart" harry mutterd fingers digging into your hips as you sat on his lap placing sweet kisses down his jawline.
harry hadn't seen you all summer. and when he realized for the first time, that you had surprisingly gotten a compartment on the train all to yourselves, he quickly pulled you onto his lap kissing you harshly.
you loved kissing harry. the soft giggles inbetween, the quick pauses so he can fix his glasses, you loved it all.
a soft groan left Harry's mouth as you tugged on his hair pulling him deeper into the kiss.
you would have been lying if you said you didn't miss harry, because you did lots. and you hated that you were stuck working in some muggle coffee shop with rude people all summer.
this time, it was harry who broke the kiss planting rather harsh kisses onto your jawline and neck, and you let out a gasp of shock "Merlin harry."
harry looked up at you with that stupid grin rubbing his thumb over the newly placed mark on your neck.
Synopsis: Theo sneaks into your dorm late at night, only to find you asleep. When he finally wakes you up, he eats you up for his troubles.
warnings: smut, oral fem receiving, carnal implications
Word Count: 6.5K
Masterlist
xoxo!
-------
You were deep, subterraneanly deep, in a sleep that felt earned, your limbs feeling weighed down by anvils after a grueling week of double Potions and night after night studying seshes. You’d collapsed into bed with your sweet vanilla oil still potent on your pulse points, the scent intertwining with the faint herbal notes of the lavender sachets tucked under your pillow. You were completely, utterly, blissfully out.
So, imagine your lover’s dismay as he finally completes the death-defying journey to your dorm, dodging prowling Prefects and the jagged sensors of the castle wards, only to find his prize knocked out. He stands in the threshold, expression mixed with adoration and genuine offense that you aren’t already awake and waiting to devour him.
There’s a faint shift in the room, like the air itself has changed, warmer somehow, closer. You’re wrapped in blankets and half-buried in a dream purely psychedelic, when something nudges at the edges of your awareness. It’s not loud, nor urgent, not a bit. It’s just...there, a presence that definitely wasn’t there when you closed your eyes.
“Hey… hey, bella mia…”
From a distance, the voice is even more shushed, dragging you upward through the layers of sleep. It’s familiar, so so familiar. The voice that lived in the margins of your mind all damn day.
Your brows twitch slightly, a reflex you can't quite kill, but you don't wake. Your eyes are almost anchored shut in your rest.
A brief moment passes. You can hear him breathing, smelling faintly of the peppermint tea he always drinks to settle his restless mind. His eyes scan your form once over.
“…you’re kidding me,” he mutters under his breath, softer now, like he’s talking more to himself than to you.
There’s a quiet click of the door latch behind him. He has spent his entire life navigating the shadows of a house that didn't want him heard, and now, ultimately, a boarding school with the same desire. He’s done this before.
You’re still asleep. Well, you’re supposed to be.
A hand brushes your shoulder, initially light as a feather, testing the waters. His fingers are cool yet his palm remains warm; the heat seeps through the fabric of your sleep shirt.
“Hey,” he tries again, a little firmer this time, his fingers giving you a gentle shake that makes your head roll lazily on the pillow. “Wake up.”
You don’t. Not really. But your body reacts just enough. With just a shallow hitch in your chest and your breathing changing for half a second you slip right back into the slumber you’ve maintained for some forty-five minutes now.
He sucks his teeth in a tsk, letting his stocky shoulders slump just a taste. Too bad you’re asleep, you miss the way his eyes sexily roll to the ceiling in his light frustration.
“Unbelievable,” he murmurs, and you can hear the weary tilt in his voice. “I risk my damn life sneaking into your dorm and you’re dead asleep?” He lets a hand push his tousled waves off his forehead, an act of habit, only for them to fall back to nearly the same spot. “‘Dodged like three wards.”
There’s a faint rustle of fabric as he takes a moment to glance around your room. His eyes scan your mahogany desk, parchment messily strewn about, three wide spined books dog eared in a makeshift bookmark. He can get an idea of what you were up to before you dozed.
Darling, you should probably wake up. Definitely should sit up and ask him what the hell he's doing in your room at three in the morning.
He hovers over your form, so close you can smell the sandalwood and the wintry bite of the outdoors clinging to his robes.
“…guess you really are asleep.” he says it halfway disappointed and halfway fond.
The quiet, heavy thud of his dragon-hide boots hit the rug. One, then the other, tossed shoddily in the doorway. Moments after there’s a faint drag of fabric when his charcoal cloak slides off his shoulder, probably slung unceremoniously over the chair where your desk is still disheveled. He’s making himself quite at home.
The mattress groans under his weight, a compression that pulls the silk sheets taut across your hips and rolls your body just a fraction of an inch toward the center of the bed. That sudden dip is what cracks the heavy shell of your slumber, finally. Your survival instincts could use some work.
Your consciousness wades to life, but your eyelids feel like they’ve been sealed shut with lead in your exhaustion. You know damn well you’re not alone. But you also know it’s undoubtedly Theo based on his weight alone. You’ve sat with him so many times, you could probably pinpoint his exact mass in less than three tries.
You obviously wonder why in the world he’s in your room at this hour, and silently thank yourself for not being a mouth breather tonight. Truly, a win is a win. Yet, a flicker of pure perversity infiltrates your otherwise pristine superego. You’ll make him work to see your irises.
So, you do as any other sensible girl would do when there’s a very pretty boy encroaching on your personal space at an ungodly hour. You double down and make him work for you. Sinking down further into the pillows while letting your head laze a little more to the side, you commit to the act. Even let a tiny little sniffle of a snore out.
The sensation of his eyes on you was enough, but when those lanky pianist fingers reach to touch you, you feel yourself folding. They find the shape of your calf through the olive duvet, the warmth of his palm seeping through the layers. His thumb shifts slightly, brushing against the fabric in slow, absent-minded arcs. Or maybe not absent-minded at all. Theo doesn't do anything without intent.
“…yeah,” he murmurs quietly, his accent thick with familiarity. “Out cold.”
He gives your leg a tiny teasing shake, his fingers hooking slightly into the soft muscle of your calf. You don’t budge, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you’re surprised you haven't drawn blood.
His fingers begin to trace the faintest line along the curve of your leg, like he’s mapping the geography of you out, testing boundaries he’d think twice about doing with your eyes open.
The weight on your leg lifts, and for a split second you feel a surge of relief from the retreating warmth. Maybe he’s satisfied. Maybe he’ll just sit there and watch you sleep like a normal creep. Only then, his hand snakes under the covers, his fingers searching blindly until they find the cool, bare skin of your ankle. Your skin warms instantly as his fingers circle the bone, hairs on your legs spiking at the anticipation of the contact.
His hands grow sneakier, letting his grip fall lower, to the arch of your foot. He lets his thumb brush against the sensitive sole. Your lower body tingles at the unexpectedness of it. Biting your cheek turns to catching your tongue between your teeth, trying to suppress the instinctive jerk of your leg. You’re cursing him out in your head, calling him every name in the book, wondering how he always knows exactly how to get under your skin.
Bastard.
Then you make the smallest, most pathetic mistake when your lips twitch nearly imperceptibly. It was really only a hint of a smile at the gall of him. Yet under Theo’s scrutiny, it might as well have been a neon sign. You hold your breath hoping he didn’t see it, but you’d honestly be more surprised if he hadn’t.
He exhales softly, clearly amused. You can feel it in the way his hand stills for half a second before it tightens around your talus. “Mmm,” he hums quietly, “Funny.” From your ankle to your shin he climbs, taking his sweet time.
“You always sleep like this?” he asks casually, as if you were actually in dreamland. You let your smile widen just a teeny bit, and he huffs mirthfully at the sight. There’s a shift in the blankets as he reaches down, his fingers hooking into the edge of the soft duvet, giving it a playful tug. The cool air of the room slides to nip your skin under the blanket, hitting your knees and mid thigh. Only then do you realize the gravity of your predicament.
“Oh… okay,” he murmurs, a light chuckle coming from his chest in response to you. “Good to know.”
The mattress groans a pitch when he shifts his weight again, maneuvering himself tight into the center of your space. His finger slides under the meat of your calf, hooking higher under your knees and lifting you until your legs are draped right over his lap.
And you’re very, very aware of the fact that you’re pantsless. You’d tossed those cotton joggers where only the wizards would know. There was nothing but that scrap of lace between your skin and the rigid fabric of his trousers. You could feel the rough texture of his quads through his pants, the solid muscle of them pressing against your lower legs. It was so masculine, so heavy, and Gods, you’d almost pay to see those thighs bare and flexed right now.
He lets the silence fester for a heartbeat as he looks at the uncovered skin of your shin like a starved, starved man.
“Guess I gotta pull these higher. You should probably stop me.”
He pauses for another short moment, almost expectedly. He’s waiting for you to crack– you can almost see the way he’s likely smirking right now, that stupid sharp self assurity. But bratty, bratty you. You’d never give him the satisfaction so easily.
He huffs, annoyed with an undertone of endearment. The blanket moves again, sliding up until it was bunched at your waist.
“Dio m’aiuti,” he breathes out in a rough exhale that ghosts over your cheek. Lord, help me. “Damn…” he curses under his breath, mumbling your name, the syllables catching in his now dry throat.
You feel his shadow loom larger. He’s looking at you, really looking, in a way he’d never dare if your eyes were open to catch him. He takes his lower lip between his teeth, his intentions with you abundantly clear.
“Those look so good on you,” he whispers, and you can feel the compliment buzzing in your stomach. There's a ghost of a touch at your hip, his thumb hooking into the thin lace of the waistline of your thong. He tugs, lets go.The tension of the elastic snaps softly against your skin.
“You had to have worn this for me,” he says, his smile wryly returning, though it’s strained now. “No way you floss your ass every night with these. You’re too practical for that.”
He lets out a shaky breath that hits the bare skin of your stomach. His hands, usually so careful with his books and his potions, grow even more sure. He slides his palms down, settling them firmly on your inner thighs. The heat of his skin is a shock against the cool expanse of yours, almost a searing brand that makes your muscles tingle and jump.
“So, so sleepy…” he coos, very obviously mocking you.
He begins to rub you, his thumbs tracing spirals against the sensitive skin of your thighs, moving higher and higher with every stroke. They rest at the hem of your thong, tracing the fabric as if it were a riverbank. You definitely have a river going on in near proximity, and you feel your facade blend from cheeky fun to a genuine struggle to stay still. He’s waking up the familiar ache between your thighs, drawing all your blood to your throbbing center.
“E se…” What if…he murmurs, trailing off into a contemplative hum. He nudges your thighs apart just the slightest bit. Even in this state, he’s careful, wanting you comfortable as he settles his weight.
From his vantage, he can see how the thin scrap of lace barely contains you—the soft puffiness of your lips spilling out from the sides.You can audibly hear the way sighs, and at that point you give in, discreetly giving your own lip a bite. The way he’s reacting to you makes you feel a dizzying rush of giddiness, like an actual visceral thrill in knowing your body is reducing him to this.
“Oh, man,” he whispers, gravelly and overwhelmed.
He sits back for a second, dragging a hand roughly down his face, his fingers dragging over his features the way someone does when they’re trying to snap themselves out of a fever dream. What am I going to do with you? the thought is written in every sharp line of his jaw. He leans back in, his gaze fixed between your legs. “You’re so puffy here, pretty girl.” his voice nearly cracks.
His thumb migrates, sliding over the lace to run directly along the length of your lip. The feel makes your hips stutter upward, your body asking for what your mouth is too stubborn to formulate. He reaches down and takes the thin triangle of your undies, hooking his finger under the lace and tugging it upward.
A flash of pure perversion dances in his eyes. He watches, transfixed, like a lad playing with his favorite toy, seeing how your pussy swallows up the thread of the thong as he pulls it taut. He tilts his head to the side, tracking the way your wetness starts to seep out from the sides, glistening against the dark fabric.
You’re practically dying. For you, it feels like heaven, and he absolutely knows it. The tight friction of the lace slides up against your clit, right where you need it most. The texture of it is just rough enough to catch on all that sensitivity, soothing just enough of the ache he’s been building up.
His eyes are fixed on the way the lace is buried deep between your lips, lost in the heat he’s stoked.
“Look at you. Sopping wet for a piece of string.”
He chuckles a frustrated laugh, his gaze dropping to the wet, dark line of the thong and then drifting lower to where his own trousers are straining. He shakes his head, his jaw tight. “My cock would fit better there,” he muses. “But whatever. If you want to keep playing pretend, I suppose I’ll just have to make do with this.” The mental image of that makes you throb in a brand-new way, imaging him nestled in your crevice.
He leans down, his lips brushing the very top of your thigh, right where the skin is the softest. His thumb found the center of that drenched undergarment and ground into it with a heavy circle. You can feel the moisture spreading, the silk now completely saturated and acting like a conduit for every bit of friction he’s generating.
“Poor thing,” he coos, the mockery in his voice thick and honeyed. “Tossing and turning in your sleep because you’re so needy. I suppose I’ve gotta play with your pussy just to get her to calm down, haven’t I?”
His finger trails up, sliding until he finds where you ache. He takes your clit between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a hard squeeze that’s almost a demand for a reaction.
“Mhmm...”
Alright, everyone has limits. That was yours, the sound escaping you before you can choke it back, a sweet, quiet moan. The irony of it was you sounded exactly like you were answering his question.
“Oh, mhmm?” he asks, mirroring the sound back to you with a low hum. He knows he won, the smugness practically radiating off him.
“Did you say something, stellina?” he whispers, his voice dripping with honeyed mock-innocence. “I could’ve sworn I heard a sound. But... no. Not from someone so deeply, deeply asleep.”
"Such a shame," he muttered, his voice thick with teasing lust, his thumb circling you once more. "I wish you were awake right now so I could actually taste you. I’ve been thinking about it since the Great Hall."
He places a chaste kiss on your belly, minty breath fanning over your skin. "But I suppose I can’t exactly get your consent while you’re off in dreamland, can I? Much too bad.” You feel the coolness of his breath retreating. “I guess I’ll just have to wait…or leave."
He stays perfectly still, his hand just resting there, depriving you of the friction he’s been teasing you with for the last ten minutes. The sudden lack of movement is agonizing.
No way in hell you’re letting that happen. Your eyes flutter open, blinking against the dim light of the dorm. Putting on your best ‘I just woke up’ face, a tiny, stupidly smitten smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him.
"Wh-what'd you say?" you murmured, your voice thick and honeyed with fake sleepiness.
Theo didn't buy it for a second. He stared down at you, not even trying to hide the way his eyes wandered all along your body.
Now that your eyes were finally open, you feasted on the sight of him. He wasn’t in his usual, stiffly tailored school robes. He’d clearly snuck out of his own dormitory in a state of undress, his only outer garment tossed carelessly into the shadows of your room. He was wearing a pair of dark, silk pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips, the fabric thin enough to hint at the hard, lean muscle of his quads underneath. He might as well not have bothered to put on a shirt, the dark fabric of his shortsleeve doing little to hide the shape of his pecs and biceps.
He looked uncharacteristically undone. His mousy hair, usually swept off his forehead, fell over it instead, messily, tips touching his eyebrows and framing those eyes you came to love. There was a smudged shadow of fatigue beneath them. You’d always scold him for drinking coffee late, yet you watched as he gulped down a mug at dinner, hours earlier. No wonder he couldn’t sleep.
You loved seeing him like this. So handsome in a way that felt private, like you were seeing a version of him the rest of the world was never allowed to touch.
"Sei una furbetta," he mumbled, the Italian sounding like an approval. "Must’ve been the wind, darling, ‘didn’t say a thing. Since you’re so, so asleep, I was just heading out."
He made a show of shifting, the silk of his trousers tickling against your bare skin as he started to lift his weight. The movement was tauntingly slow,giving you every second to realize exactly what you were about to lose.
"Theo, stay," you gasped out, your pride officially dead and buried. You reached up, your fingers snagging the hem of his silk pants to anchor him to the mattress. Your knuckles grazed the warm skin of his hip.
He stilled instantly, his eyes tracking the way your hand was nearly trembling against him. He sighed theatrically, starting. "Oh... I guess I can stay for a bit," he murmured, his voice dropping a few notches. He settled back over you, his weight a grounding comfort. His hands made sure to stay where you can see them. He looked down at you as if he were a saint. "But what do you want to do, bella? You look so tired. Perhaps we should just talk?"
He was being an absolute asshole, and he knew it. He acted as if he hadn't spent the last ten minutes between your legs.
"I want you to taste me," you whispered, painfully needily. "Like you said you wanted to."
He wet his lips with his rosy tongue as if on instinct. He really is like a puppy for you. Yeah, he may have the upper hand many, many times, including now. But truly he is at your beck and call. So of course he didn’t waste a minute of time, positioning himself over you, his knees framing your hips. "Merlin, you’re so bossy when you're awake," he muttered, trying to convince himself that he’s the one with all the control here.
“And asleep too. You did exactly what I wanted.” you look up at him, batting those lashes triumphantly.
He groans, shaking his head, hair messily falling into his eyes as he looks down at you. “Yeah, well, you were faking it,” he countered without any bite. “Brilliant performance by the way, truly.”
“Not the whole time I wasn’t.” you defend, weakly.
He just clicks his tongue at you, his eyes growing a little softer at the edges. He slid his large hand underneath your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to cradle your skull against the pillow. He leaned closer to you until his forehead was resting against yours, nose just barely brushing your own.
“I missed you, mamma.” he admits, almost as if it were a secret.
Goshhh. That nickname. You feel like literal putty, your face parting in a toothy smile.”Theo, I just saw you like, nine hours ago.”
He humphs. “Sì, certo, pero. I was tossing and turning. Without you. Nine hours is a small eternity when my bed feels that empty.”
Your smile impossibly widens. You know exactly the kind of charmer he is, and yet he woos you every single time. You lean up, closing the tiny space between you to kiss him. He doesn’t hesitate for a second, he meets you halfway, his mouth devouring yours with a hunger that’s sweet and filthy all at once. He adds his tongue almost instantly, already knowing the shape and taste of your mouth so well that it feels like coming home.
One hand kneads into your scalp, massaging the skin soothingly. His other finds your waist. You feel his palm slide upward, slipping under the hem of your sleeping shirt, his skin a welcomed familiarity against yours. His thumb traces the curve of your side, the tingle of it making your breath hitch into his mouth. He groans in response, the sound caught against your teeth. A hand snakes around you, pulling you flush against him.
After a few more moments of those perfectly sloppy, wet kisses, you reluctantly pull back an inch. Your chest rises and falls quicker than it would standardly, lips puffy. “Okay,” you whisper, unable to mask the laugh in your voice. “Now, my other lips.”
Theo pulls back just far enough to look at you, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, a slow, boyish laugh bubbling up from his chest. One of his thick brows shoots upward in genuine surprise.
“Pardon?” he asked in disbelief, not sure he heard you correctly.
“I don’t know...” you tease, your eyes dropping to his mouth and then back to his. “I just think my other lips need some serious attention. They’re feeling a bit neglected.”
Theo lets out a short, incredulous laugh, his chest heaving against yours. “You’re such a... a deviant,” he accuses, shaking his head. He settles back on his haunches, even though he keeps his hand firmly planted on your thigh. “Is that what this is? Are you just using me for my mouth? Is that all I am to you? A tool for your pleasure?”
He places a hand over his heart far too dramatically in a gesture of hurt. He furrows his brows, giving you the most pathetic attempt at puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. With his sharp corners of his eyes, it looks like he’s trying to use telekinesis to scramble your brain.
“Yes!” you say, your voice dripping with fake seriousness as you reach up to trail a finger along his jawline, feeling the slight prickle of stubble. “Yes, absolutely. It would be a waste not to put your talent to work”
He stares at you for a beat, his jaw tightening as he looks at the flush on your cheeks. He knows damn well it isn’t true. He remembers the months of pining, the way you begged your friends to change their route to class so you could make eye contact with him for 2 seconds. And the way you used to turn scarlet even when he said something as simple as ‘Good morning.’ He knows you’re just as addicted to the soul of him as you are to his hands.
“Wow,” he sighs, a long, exaggerated exhale of breath that he lets fall against the bare skin of your stomach. He looks down at your navel, then slowly trails his gaze back up into your eyes, his expression lascivious. You can’t bear it when he looks at you like that, like you are the only thing in the entire castle worth seeing, like he’s going to take you apart and memorize every piece of you to put you back together. All you can think about is the blue of his eyes.
“I’ll remember that,” he muses against your skin as he begins to trail a line of nipping, open-mouthed kisses down your torso. “Treating a guest like this. After I risked a midnight run-in with Mrs. Norris just to see you. Truly heartless.”
“A guest who happens to be very, very hungry,” he whispers.
You let out a breathy, frantic little laugh, trying to keep your head above water as his hands squeeze your thighs. “You literally finished my plate at dinner, Theo. I watched you eat my last three potatoes.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his messy waves falling over his forehead, “A man can’t want dessert? I’m a growing boy, I have requirements.”
“That is more than okay with me,” you breathe, honestly, some of your confidence crawling back. You place your hands behind your head in a flourish, stretching out like a cat, and then slowly lift your legs, placing your feet firmly on his broad shoulders. The contrast of your soft skin against the hard line of his frame makes you woozy. “So what's the plan? Are you gonna eat me like a cannoli?”
He freezes. Like, actually stops moving, his hands hovering over your thighs as he stares at you in dead silence. “No way,” he says, his voice flat. “No way you just said that. Absolutely not.”
He pulls one hand away to run it through his already messy dark hair, tugging at the ends trying to process what you just said. He’s looking genuinely upset at your choice of pastry, and you could’ve sworn he even scoffed. You can’t help it; a snort escapes you, followed by a fit of giggles because the look of pure offense on his face is far too much to handle.
You catch your breath just long enough to look him in those icy, narrowing eyes, and you can't resist the opening. “Absolutely, Nott!”, you chirp, giving him a cheeky, lopsided grin.
The corner of his mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile he’s clearly fighting to suppress. He hates that he finds you funny right now, that your puns actually land. You watch his cheek hollow with a bite, and he furrows those brows again.
“Ugh, baby, no. No, no,” he groans, shaking his head and leaning back over you, his expression suddenly very serious, though his eyes are dancing with tell-tale amusement. “You need to know this. You have to understand the geography of what’s about to happen to you. Cannoli? That’s Sicily, that’s the South.”
He rolls his eyes, and only then do you realize he’s being partly facetious, playing up his heritage just to tease you back.
“You know I’m from the North. My family is from Venice and Milan. We don't do cannoli like that. We eat tiramisu.”
He leans down and nips, quite firmly, at the soft fat of your belly. You squeal, half-laughing and half-moaning as he begins to trail those kisses lower again, his hands sliding under the crooks of your knees to pull you closer.
“Well,” you start, tiptoeing around your ask. “Could you..could you fill me up like a cannoli? Later?”
The words hang heavy in the air of your dorm, and you can almost see behind his eyes. Clearly his internal monologue’s a mess of good-natured disbelief.’what is this girl’s problem?’But the mental image attached to your phrasing does much to turn him on further.
He clears his throat, yet his voice is still raspier than before. ”For you, I think I can arrange that. Actually, I’m certain of it.”
He can’t even help himself. As he kneels there between your thighs, he lets out a jagged, frustrated breath and slides one hand low, disappearing into the waistband of his silk pajama bottoms.You watch the line of his shoulder flex as he cuffs himself through the fabric, his knuckles grazing the hard, insistent length of him as he tries to process the mental image of finally, finally being inside you. The sight of him touching himself, even for a second, just because of something you said, makes you feel higher than any drug could render you.
He looks down at his own hand, then back up at you, irises darkening in anticipation. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters, jaw tightening.
His fingers leap up to hook into the damp lace of your thong, slowly shimmying the fabric down your legs. He watches every inch of skin as it’s revealed, his breath picking up when the lace finally clears your ankles and gets tossed somewhere toward the foot of the bed.
“What a treat,” he sighs in pure adoration.
He moves back in, his chest brushing against your shins as he settles between your knees. He leans down and presses a fervent kiss right to your pubic mound. The heat of his mouth against that sensitive skin is a shock to your senses. He stays there for a moment, breathing you in, his nose brushing against the soft curls as he worships the very sight of you.
He looks up at you through his dark lashes, his chin resting right against your inner thigh.
“You want your pussy eaten?” he asks, uncharacteristically crude for him.
A breathless, shaky laugh bubbles up in your chest, trying to gain some of your footing.“I think,” you pant, your fingers curling into the silk of the duvet, “you mean my tiramisu, Theo.”
He smiles lightly, but doesn’t laugh this time, pressing a slow, soft kiss on the meaty part of your thigh. “Tell me, silly girl,” he murmurs, the words almost commanding.“I don’t joke about consent. I need to hear it. Is that what you want?”
You swallow hard, your voice coming out as a small, desperate thread of a sound. “Please... please can you?”
He nods as if it were a promise. He leans back in, using the tip of his nose to gently nudge your labia apart. The cool air of the dungeon hits your heat for a split second before it’s replaced by the warmth of him. He begins to pepper wet, open-mouthed kisses over your swollen folds, his tongue darting out just enough to tease the edges of your sensitivity without giving you the full contact you’re feining for.
Your leg gives an involuntary shake when he gets closer to where you need, even surprising yourself as your knee knocks against his shoulder.
“You okay?” he asks, pulling back just enough to check your face.
Inwardly, he is absolutely stoked. The sight of you already reacting so strongly while he’s hardly even started is a massive stroke to his ego.
“Mhmm,” you manage to whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your hips up, wordlessly begging for him to stop the teasing and just finish you.
He hums in response and approval, bringing his hands up to rest comfortably but firmly around your stomach. Grounding, yes, but also practical. He wanted to hold you firmly in place so you couldn’t retreat from what was coming.
His head dipped again, the slickness of his tongue dragging from your perineum all the way up to your tiny, throbbing point. Your chest falls in relief, the first shocks of the contact balming your overcoiled tension. He groans to himself at your taste, the sound muffled by your skin. He began to lick you softly, his tongue fluttering in light strokes over your swollen folds. He was acquainting himself with you, movements curious as he sipped at the moisture you were yielding for him. So gentle, so coaxing.
“Yes, Theo.” you squeak out softly, not really knowing what else to say, yet you wanted to spur him on somehow. It did just enough. His hands gratefully tightened around your waist. He looked up at you, his hooded eyes pulling you right into him. “Like this?” he asked, softly, his breath a minty fog that made your walls flutter. He flattened his tongue, placing a heavy, heavy pressure right at your center. The texture of it is slightly rough, catching against your supersensitive skin. He settles in, stubbly chin rubbing at your entrance as he grows more sure.
Your restraint said farewell a long time ago, your moans so lewd and guttural, punctuated by the wet sounds of him making out with your sopping lips. He’s meticulous, moving from side to side, catching the sensitive skin of your labia between his lips and giving a soft, playful tug that makes you gasp his name. “So loud, baby.” he sighs against you, praise disguised as a complaint. “Take what you asked for.” he continues, his thumbs rubbing circles over your waist. He’s enjoying the taste of you, his head tilting to the side so he can get a better angle, his tongue darting deep into your opening before returning to flick against your clit.
A daring hand slides down, reaching to pull your lips open wider, exposing you fully to his gaze and his tongue. He watches the way you pulse for a short moment, leaning back in to soothe exactly that. “Atleast, slow d-..slow down.” you stumble deliriously, the tension in your thighs coiling slink.
“Yes ma’am.” he tells you, almost too easily. He moves lower, nose brushing past your opening as he trails a line of wet, stinging kisses down, down down, toward the sensitive, tight skin below. He presses his mouth firmly against you, sucking a wet kiss directly onto the sensitive skin of your anus. You feel it from your center to your toes, so taboo and uncharted.
“Theo-” you gasp, ripped from your lungs, legs shifting involuntarily against his shoulders.
He pulls back just a fraction, the cool air hitting the wet mark he’s left behind. He looks up at you through the messy locks falling into his eyes.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, a half assed apology. “I missed.”
He migrates back up, his mouth wide and hot as he latches onto your clit with an uncontained hunger. He does the exact same thing, sucking a deep kiss right onto your peak—but he holds it this time. He stays there for twice as long as before, his tongue swirling in tight,damp circles.
With his mouth busy, he brings one of his thumbs down, circling your entrance teasingly, his digit slick with the mess he’s made. He traces the very edge of your opening, pressing just enough to make you feel the hollow ache of your own emptiness. From there, you know you’re a goner. Your legs are shaking violently against his shoulders, your breath coming in short panicked hitches that you can't control.
“Theo—I’m... I’m coming,” you mewl, torso twisting instinctively in an attempt to gather yourself.
He’s not surprised in the slightest, his hand holding you securely against him. He sweetly grunts against you in response, finally slowing down when he feels you trembling. The feeling’s consuming, starting at the base of your spine, wading outward, your whole body like jelly. You can feel the warmth of your spilling out slowly, across the cool skin of his chin and the heat of his tongue.
His fingers shift to the undersides of your thighs to hold you open, keeping you pinned to his mouth. He begins to lick up the small, pearly liquid that leaks out of you, cleaning up the mess he made. He ensured not a single bit of you is wasted. “‘Tastes so good.” he murmurs against your thigh. “You did so well for me.” he tilts his chin down to meet your eyes, a boyish grin on his lips. “Better than any dessert.”
He lets out a long, shaky exhale, resting his forehead against the inside of your knee for a heartbeat as he tries to regulate his own jumping pulse. You swallow hard, your voice coming out small after you finally garner the strength to shift. Your eyes drop from his face, trailing down the lean line of his torso to where… zoo wee mama.
The bulge in his pj’s is impossible to ignore, the insistent line against his pants belying to you just how much he was holding back while focusing only on you. “What about you?” you whisper, your fingers reaching out to ghost over the waistband of his pants.
Theo’s belly lurches, his entire frame going rigid at the suggestion. He looks down at your hand and then back up into your eyes, his features melting into something so much more raw. He sits back on his heels, rising up on his knees until he’s shadowed over you, hooking a thumb into the waistband of his silk bottoms.
It feels like a scene unfolding in slow motion, and all you could do was watch with your lips parted. As he pushes the fabric down, the sharp, sculpted hardness of his obliques melts into the lean muscle of his lower stomach, trailing down to the dark, soft dusting of hair that leads to his manhood. He stops his descent there, a deep smile line forming in his cheek at your needy expression.
“I suppose,” he starts, letting his hand dip in to cup himself, pumping a few times just to push your buttons. “I can cut my losses and make a cannoli for once.”
He doesn't have to clarify. You know damn well he isn't talking about dessert.
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hiii my loves i am so so sorry ive been AWOL for a bitttt. finals finals finals ughhhhhh. i have part twos and a full length fic in the works:) this is just a little somethin somethin ive whipped up in between;) huge kisses. soon as i get over this hurdle, so much more to come.
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.
