ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵇᵒᵗ, ᵐᵒ

Your excitement for the winter chill was only heightened by the cold weather accessories you could now don, courtesy of your ever-mysterious admirer. Soft woven fabric currently graced your neck and hands, deftly keeping the wintry nip at bay. However, you weren’t sure if you were feeling all warm and fuzzy because of your new scarf or the stranger you associated with it.

Fashionable and practical. Whoever this guy is, I can’t fault his taste in accessories, or women, for that matter.

Its appearance hadn’t escaped the notice of your closest friend.

“Done a bit of shopping, have you?” Hermione’s voice broke your reverie. Stealing a glance at the curly-haired girl at your side, you couldn’t help the shy grin breaking upon your face.

“…Not exactly.”

Your response caused her to pause in her stride, a smile growing that mirrored your own. “Oh? Have you gotten another gift from your dear ‘Teddy’?” Her teasing tone roused a blush on your chilled cheeks that could rival the cranberry scarf carefully wrapped around your neck.

My Teddy?

The thought seemed altogether ridiculous, but it didn’t stop your stomach from flipping, giddy with measured excitement. Someone belonging to you, being yours, was completely foreign.

But certainly not unwelcome.

“Something like that.” Your uncharacteristic bashfulness had Hermione squeezing the arm that was intertwined with hers. The pair of you had slightly separated from the rest of the pack and watched as your friends got their kicks from the snow. Ginny could be seen climbing a nearby birch tree, sneaking in hopes of dropping a heft of snow on Hannah who remained below, unaware to the redhead plotting above her. Parvati and Luna were trying to build a snowman bearing an impressive resemblance to Professor Flitwick. 

“Still no idea who Teddy might be then?” asked Hermione, steering the both of you to sit on a nearby bench underneath a large willow, branches drifting in the slight breeze.

A sigh left your lips, “Honestly ‘Mione, I’m stumped, which is saying a lot, considering my superior intelligence and all.” Your comment earned you a swift whack to your arm and a choked laugh.

“And here I was thinking this secret admirer business wasn’t giving you a big head!”

“Hey!” You were quick to pick up some powdery snow from the bench’s armrest, tossing it in Hermione’s general direction. The Gryffindor squealed as snowflakes landed in her hair and across her face.

Hermione’s hands quickly dug into the snow below, getting ready to prepare a large snowball as payback.

“Please, no! Have mercy upon me!” You yelped, throwing your hands up to cover your face.

Your pleas for leniency went unheard as your friend hurled the snow at you from close quarters. Looking down at the wet spot quickly growing on your coat, you muttered, “Alright, I may have deserved that.”

Hermione’s eyes met your own and you both broke out into a fit of giggles. Catching your breath, you watched as it began to snow harder, crystals of snow dancing across your vision.

Breaking the gentle lull that had overtaken the both of you, Hermione spoke. “Can I ask you something, Y/n?”

“’Course, ‘Mione.”

“Who do you want Teddy to be?”

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of your lungs. Eyes bulging, you faltered at her directness.  

“Some question, Hermione!” Your startled expression had Hermione laughing once more as she looked out at your friends enjoying the snowfall.

And yet, you couldn’t help but find yourself thinking of those grey-blue eyes you had become all-too familiar with—that seemed to haunt you in the most soul-stirring, heart-clenching way. A certain Slytherin who you were reluctant to admit was the better Potions student no matter how much you studied. A quidditch keeper you were hoping to keep around, in whatever way you could get. 

Scrambling for a response, you turned your attention to Hermione who was already looking at you with a knowing expression. Reaching for your glove-clad hand, she grasped it in her own, giving a squeeze. This was yet another instance where Hermione was wise beyond her years, and you found that you didn’t have to say a thing for her to know the person fliting across your mind. 

Shuffling closer to Hermione, you rested your head on her shoulder, taking in the white landscape and its stillness before she spoke.

“I hope it’s him, too.”

As dusk fell, casting soft oranges and pink across the snowy terrain, you and your friends trekked back into the stony interiors of Hogwarts. Peeling off one by one, you found yourself headed towards the Library and its Restricted Section alone, determined to find some tome that would help you prepare for next week’s Potion lesson. In office hours, Slughorn had hinted your Potions class would shortly be covering a host of love potions, some of the most notorious and difficult concoctions to brew, including Amortentia.

When you had mentioned your intention to seek out a textbook’s help on the subject earlier that afternoon, Luna had looked at you rather odd, querying, “Why don’t you just ask Nott for help?”

The question, simple enough in its premise and rather sound logic, had sent you sputtering for an answer, a flush quickly rushing up your neck and into your face. While you were coming to terms with the fact that you could possibly, perchance, maybe had feelings for your Potions partner, verbalizing that seemed beyond your capabilities at the moment, especially to Luna. Not that you had anything against your Ravenclaw friend, but you felt a tad silly admitting that you didn’t think asking your totally hypothetical crush for help on love potions was something you could handle. Spouting some lame excuse about how it was better to ‘get your information from the source,’ you had quickly absconded from the group and began your trek through the stone castle.

At this time of day, the library was rather empty, most students currently making their way to the Great Hall for their evening meal. You were thankful for the lack of coeds as you began your search for Laverne de Montmorency’s seminal text on the subject of love potions, Les Philtres D'amour et Leurs Utilisations, or Love Potions and Their Uses. Skipping past the aged volumes of Most Potente Potions and the like, your eyes finally found the book you were searching for, squeezed between The Lives of Cursed Lycans and Magick Most Evile. Unfortunately, the desired item lay on a shelf that you couldn’t graze with the tips of your fingertips even on your tippy toes.

Thank Merlin for magic and levitating charms.

Reaching for your wand, you realized it was in your coat pocket. Or rather, in the coat that was no longer on your person, and thus inaccessible at the moment. The kind friend that she was, Hermione had offered to take back your coat to your dorm with her since it was no longer needed in the warmth of Hogwarts’s halls. With no ladders in sight, you let out a huff. Peeking around to see if there was anyone around, you began to stack some books strewn around haphazardly as a makeshift stepstool.

If they were valuable, they wouldn’t just be laying on the ground…right?

With six or seven books under your feet, your fingers just grazed the weathered spine before a hand entered your vision. It slyly grasped the book, pulling it out from its designated spot on the bookshelf with ease. In surprise, you began to wobble on your precarious book stack—which you were realizing more and more was most definitely a bad idea—before it finally collapsed, your fall only broken by a toned arm now carefully cradling your waist.

What the fuck?

Shifting as quickly as you could in the tight quarters between the bookshelf and the stranger’s limb keeping you in place, you found yourself eye to eye with a rather broad chest. Catching a whiff of balsam firs and a certain smokiness, your eyes quickly glanced up to determine who this very nice-smelling torso belonged to, only to realize it was connected to the one person you were hoping wouldn’t find you.

“I don’t think Madam Pince will particularly appreciate you using her books as footstool,” mused Theo, the faintest smirk dancing across his lips. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smack or kiss it off his face. “Doing a bit of light reading, hm?” Theo’s eyes glanced at the book he had snagged from the shelf, eyes slightly widening at the book’s title. “And what are you reading about love potions for, Y/n? Brewing up some ideas?”

The Slytherin’s last remark had you gasping in horror, lightly smacking him on the chest. “I resent that insinuation!”

“You’re the one reading up on love potions here, not me.”

A very unladylike squawk left your mouth. “Maybe I am doing a bit of light reading! Not that it’s any of your business anyway.”

Theo’s eyes seemed to sparkle with how much he was enjoying seeing you flustered. “Isn’t it?”

That did it. Theo had rendered you utterly and completely speechless.

What the devil is that supposed to mean?

“I—I mean I don’t…um, well.” The sound of his quiet laughter had you shutting up, instead opting to turn completely red in the face at your complete freeze up.

“You could have come to me, you know?” said Theo. Even though he had removed his hand from your waist, you could feel even now where it had once rested. You skin was still warm from the steady heat of his hand. “That’s what Potions partners are for, right?”

“I was merely weighing the pros and cons between the ego boost you would get the second I asked for help and how much assistance I actually need on the subject. Clearly, I’m worried for your pride.” That had Theo ducking his head and laughing once more.

“Still. I’m here, you know. For…whatever.” Those eyes you had been picturing just hours before were now boring into yours, searching for something. Theo seemed to shuffle the tiniest bit closer, eyes lowering just a tad.

“Yeah?” you asked, breathless in the close proximity.

“For you? Yeah.” He’s close now. That intoxicating smell is all you can focus on, drowning in Theo’s presence.

Is he going to…?

Just as you think Theo might finally duck down and press his pink lips to yours, the sound of a falling book and sudden skin-scrawling screaming rudely interrupts, breaking the spell cast over you. Pulling apart like someone had poured ice cold water on the both of you, Theo turns to the culprit, a screaming novel that had fallen from the bookshelf you had been caged against. It takes him a few moments, but Theo manages to close the book, Siren Call, and lock it, placing it back on the shelf. The moment is over, you realize, as you hear the marked sounds of Madam Pince’s heels making their way to the Restricted Section to see what the kerfuffle was about. Standing apart, you can’t meet Theo’s eyes, all of a sudden very conscious of your surroundings.

Trying to kiss Theo in the Restricted Section? The hell were you thinking?!

“Y/n.” The sound of your name being whispered pulls you from your thoughts. Theo’s watching you carefully, as if trying to discern your thoughts. “I reckon we should probably get out of here before Pince goes ballistic on us, hm?” Nodding, you join him as you both thankfully evade the rampaging librarian. With a murmured goodbye, you part ways as Theo heads towards the west wing of the castle. Stomach rumbling, you steer yourself towards the Great Hall, intending to join your friends who are no doubt wondering at your absence.

Stealing a last glance towards the Slytherin, your eyes meet Theo’s stormy gaze. Feeling that all-too familiar heat beginning to rise in your face, you shuffle along, embarrassment keeping your feet moving at a fast pace. Reaching the large wooden doors of the Great Hall, you turn once more, but Theo is gone.

Quick to find an open spot at the Gryffindor table, you remain silent that dinner, mind racing over the evening’s events, or rather the complete arse you had made of yourself in front of Theo. Shoving a few buttered rolls and bites of butter chicken in your mouth, you make excuses of exhaustion to your housemates who look at you rather oddly for your quiet demeanor. To escape their scrutiny, you escape to your dorm shortly thereafter, plopping face down onto your bed. You’re perfectly content to fall asleep then and there, but a scrap of parchment catches your eye, or rather what rests upon it does.

Is that a…locket?

Gently reflecting in the moonlight floating in from your window, the necklace is stunning, to say the least, forged of metal carefully chosen to match the rest of your jewelry. Strung on a delicate chain, the exterior of the pendant is covered in swooping filigree, etched into the metal with care and finesse. Brushing a finger over the detail work with the utmost delicacy, you cannot help but feel your heart begin to melt.

Finding the locket’s latch, you press gently and hear a quiet click. Thankfully, there is no photo of you inside, however the identity of your admirer does not lie within either. Instead, you find an inscription engraved with sloping letters.

Yours, Teddy

Reading it, over and over, you cannot help but feel like your heart is liable to burst. Placing it down on your bedspread for a moment, your hand reaches for the parchment still carefully resting on your nightstand. Unfolding it, your eyes once more greet the boyish handwriting you’ve become rather fond of.

Y/n,

My heart is yours, love.

Meet me at the shore of the Black Lake at dusk tomorrow.

Yours,

Teddy

Thankfully, the stone corridors of Hogwarts were relatively vacant. You did have to shuffle along two Ravenclaw first years who had stayed in the library too long, but other than that you had yet to see anybody. Portraits lining the hall greeted you occasionally—at least those not already asleep. Burying a yawn, you checked the watch on your wrist, only to see it read a little past one a.m.

It should be alright for me to call it a night by now, right?

As you swiveled around to head back toward Gryffindor Tower, you heard the faintest unintelligible speech to your left, coming from the West Tower where the owlery was nested.

I swear, if I catch Lucy Hurst trying to sneak her owl into her dorm again, I’ll lose it.

Trudging up the countless stairs, you headed towards the voice, which—as you expected—was coming from somewhere near the owlery.

“Glielo porterai, vero, uccellino?” questioned the disembodied voice.

Just as you neared the top of the staircase, you heard a rush of wings and then silence. Clasping your wand, you muttered, “Homenum revelio,” casting a quick enchantment to verify the presence of another person in your vicinity. You felt someone just to your left.

Lucy Hurst, I swear to Merlin—

Crossing the threshold, you were met with a startled Theo rather than Lucy. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips. He looked ragged, dark circles resting under his eyes. A dour expression was settled over his features, quickly supplanted by his surprise at your appearance. “Che cazz—What are you doing up here, Y/n?”

Did he sound nervous?

Looking up at the tall Slytherin, you cocked your head, “I think that’s supposed to be my line, Theo. Considering you’re the one out after curfew, and all.”

“But you’re here with me, aren’t you?”

“Last I checked, you weren’t a prefect.”

He took a drag from his cigarette, a soft chuckle falling from his mouth. He stared off in the direction behind you, blowing out smoke, before replying, “Fair enough.” His usual fire was subdued, no quick quips in sight.

“You know, I could dock you house points for being out of bed and smoking.” Those tempestuous eyes met yours and seemed to sear you with the strength of their gaze.

“And here I was thinking we were such grand friends, Y/n. What happened to looking out for your potion partner, hm?” The smallest of smirks appeared on his lips, softened by the late hour and the night’s darkness.

“Oh, for Godric’s sake—”

“Didn’t realize hitting a guy while he’s down was your style. First, I fuck up the quidditch game and now I’m losing house points? Where’s your sympathy?”

Despite his attempts to make light of Slytherin’s loss that morning, you could tell it was biting at him. You’d seen Ron and Harry enough after a quidditch loss to know their sour moods afterwards were particularly unpleasant.  

“Far as I know, quidditch is a team sport, Theo.” You clung to your cardigan, trying to keep warm as the night’s chill began to settle into your body. “Besides, you had a better record than Ron today. That’s got to count for something, right?”

Theo’s eyes seemed to brighten at your words, his feet shuffling infinitesimally closer to you. “Watching me, were you?”

That had heat rushing to your checks and left you sputtering. “Oh—I, well—you’re the one who—who said I should go!” Mirth seemed to dance on his face as your obvious flustered state.

Theo smiled, biting at his lip, “And you did.”

“Well, I mean—yeah.” Not wanting to look at Theo’s no-doubt teasing expression, you peered at his lithe hand holding the cigarette, his index finger tapping away the ashes ever so gently before returning it to his mouth.

Merlin's pants, that should not be as attractive as it is.

“You know, even in the muggle world we know cigarettes are bad for you. I’d reckon you were smarter than that.” Theo inhaled, before letting out a small breath of wispy white smoke.

He hummed, “Just needed to calm down for a bit. De-stress and all.” His response made you frown.

“There are better ways to de-stress, you know, ways that don’t pollute your lungs?”

“You’re kidding,” he deadpanned. With that, you began to pull away, walking towards the staircase leading away from the owlery. “Where are you headed off to?” he questioned from the top of the staircase.

Turning slightly, you continued downwards, calling over your shoulder, “To show you a better way.” He still stood there, looking at you with a blank expression. You paused your descent. “Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there looking—"

“Alright, alright! ‘M coming.”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I could still dock you points.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I so would.”

After countless twists and shortcuts through the labyrinth that was Hogwarts, you finally made it to the Kitchens with Theo in tow, looking confused as ever.

“You’ve brought me to the Kitchens? To what, clean?”

“Oh please, I’m not that cruel.” Theo’s eyebrows raised.

You just glared at him.

“Let me just see—ah! Dobby!” At the sound of his name, Dobby trotted over clad in a questionable multicolored fuzzy vest with matching socks. Having been freed from the Malfoy family, he had taken to indulging in vivid and…interesting fashion choices. He grinned at the sight of you, his smile only wavering a bit at the sight of the tall Slytherin standing just behind you.

“Miss Y/n! Dobby thinks you’re out a bit late, are you not? Dobby sees you’ve brought…a friend?” Crouching down to meet the house-elf’s short stature, you grasped his offered hand, bringing it into both of yours. During your time at Hogwarts, by way of your friendship with the Golden Trio, you had found yourself acquainted with the house-elf and formed a soft spot for him and his idiosyncrasies. On your escapades to the Kitchens, you often found yourself sitting with Dobby, enjoying a cup of tea together, while he regaled you with the latest developments of his newfound employment.

“Yes, Dobby. Theo, here, is a friend of mine.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Theo stooped down and offered his hand as you had, to which Dobby heartily grasped it and grinned.

“Dobby is always happy to meet a friend of Miss Y/n’s!”

Returning Dobby’s grin, Theo responded, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dobby.”

“Now, Dobby, he is a Slytherin, but we’ll try to not hold that against him, won’t we? After all, we must set an example for them.” You tossed a teasing grin at Theo to which he rolled his eyes.

“Dobby would never, Miss, even if Dobby is not particularly fond of the Malfoys.”

Theo laughed, “Don’t worry, Dobby, I’m not particularly fond of them either.”

“Oh! Dobby likes him already!”

After a short chat with the house-elf, you brought Theo to a quieter corner of the Kitchens and away from the other house-elves milling about. Gesturing towards the stool beside you, you motioned at Theo to sit before the countertop.

“Are you planning to tell me what we’re doing here, or am I to remain in suspense?”

“Patience is a virtue, Theodore.”

“Do I look like a Hufflepuff to you?”

Snorting at Theo’s question, you waved your wand to delicately float a cookbook off a nearby shelf. Grasping its thick pages between your fingertips, you paused before turning toward him. “You’re Italian, right?”

“Figured that out, did you? What gave me away?” Choosing to ignore his sarcasm, you flipped through the text before landing on a faded recipe for torta della nonna, or grandmother’s cake.

“We’re going to bake a torte, if you must know.”

Theo stared at you for a few moments. “You’re messing with me.”

“I am not. There are better ways to de-stress, and baking is one of them. It’s a healthy distraction, and you get something sweet at the end.” You turned toward Theo who looked at you with an expression between confused and bewilderment. “Now then, go get me a saucepan.”

Soon enough, you had Theo whisking milk, egg yolks, vanilla, and a few more ingredients together to form a promising pastry cream while you worked on making the dough that would encapsulate the filling.

“I don’t understand why we’re not using wands to speed this up,” Theo mused as he flicked his wrist, stirring quickly to prevent the mixture from sticking to the bottom of the pan.

“Like I said,” you responded, kneading the dough into a uniform texture, “this isn’t about speed or ease.” You added a pinch of flour before continuing, “Besides, this is how my mum and I always do it.”

Theo’s eyes moved from the bubbling mixture to yours, a slight smile on his face, “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, grinning back at him. “Baking with my mom is one of the things I miss most when I’m at school. Before I even knew that I was a witch, I believed in magic because of my mum and her baking skills.” Theo laughed at that. “I’m serious! On some days, the only thing that could cheer me up were her chocolate chip cookies. I’m still not entirely convinced she didn’t include a drop of Elixir to Induce Euphoria somehow.”

“She’s a muggle?”

“Yep,” you answered, “Even after we learned I had magical abilities, she insisted we keep baking magic-free. Made it all the more special.” You smiled at the memory. “Did you ever bake with your mum, Theo?”

Your question caused a stiffening in the Slytherin’s body, eyes no longer meeting yours. “No.” His eyes closed for a moment, before letting out a sigh. “She died before we could do anything like that together.”

Your floured hands ceased their kneading as you turned towards him. “Theo—Merlin, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think when I asked—” You placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“’S fine, really.” He turned toward you once more, sad eyes whose attention was drawn to your hand. “Though, I don’t think my sweater is fine, considering how you’ve just dirtied it.” In horror, you removed your hand only to see the dusty white handprint in its place. Groaning at your idiocy, you put your chalky hands on your face, only to realize your mistake.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Theo’s laugh caused you to move your hands, glad to see that your foolishness had helped to lift the gloomy mood of your conversation. “I’ve got flour all over my face, haven’t I?”

Handing you a nearby kitchen towel, Theo chuckled, “Personally, I think you’ve never looked better.”

Grumbling, you made quick work of the flour on your face before pivoting your attention to the pastry cream. Stepping closer to Theo, you brought a finger to dip quickly into the custard before bringing it to your mouth to taste.

“Hm, it needs a tad bit more vanilla.”

Theo’s eyebrows furrowed before he grasped the cookbook in his hands, “But, I’ve already added in what the recipe called for.”

Chuckling at his perplexed expression, you grabbed the vial of vanilla extract before adding in a couple more drops.

“Theo, you’re just going to have to trust me on this—you can’t always go exactly by the book. You may be the best Potions student in our year, but I certainly know more about baking than you.”

“I may be?” Theo questioned, turning to you.

You paused your stirring before looking up at him, “Jury is still out on that one.” At your quip, Theo gazed at your face, a small smile gracing his lips, not saying anything. “What is it, have I still got flour on my face?” Your hand went to brush against your cheek, feeling for any remaining dust.

At your question, Theo broke out of his apparent reverie and cleared his throat. “No, no—‘s nothing.” He clapped his hands together. “What’s next?”

A little while later, you pulled a beautiful torte from the oven. It had a golden crust, sprinkled with pine nuts, that you had Theo dust with powdered sugar for the finishing touch. The pair of you sat as you skillfully cut into the delicacy, slicing a portion for Theo and yourself. Whatever remained would be left to the house-elves as a thank you for letting you occupy a small space of the Kitchens.

You eagerly watched as Theo bit into the dessert, impatient to see what he thought.

“Hm,” was all he offered in response.

“Hm?”

He swallowed before continuing, “It’s alright.”

Your jaw hinged open, so wide that if your mum was there, she would tell you to close it before you started to catch flies. “Just…alright?” you squeaked out.

Theo sighed, before a grin finally broke through his stony façade. “It’s delicious, Y/n. Truly.”

With an indignant scoff, you swatted him with a kitchen towel, to which he fruitlessly tried to defend himself and the torte. “You are such a wanker! And here I was trying to make you feel better!”

Theo chuckled, eagerly biting into his slice of the torte. “It’s great, really, but it’s just too easy to mess with you.”

You rolled your eyes, “You are awful.”

Theo’s eyes sparkled, “Downright incorrigible, honestly.”

Huffing, you bit into your own slice, content to enjoy your efforts and ignore the Slytherin beside you, until he bumped his shoulder into yours. “Thanks for this, Y/n. I mean it.”

Smiling, you gave him a bump back, “Anytime, Theo.”

Realizing the time, you and Theo both decided you’d better head back to your respective dormitories to at least attempt at sleep. Having dropped you off at the Fat Lady’s portrait, Theo walked toward the dungeons. You couldn’t help but watch his retreating form, feeling a certain tightness and warmth in your chest that you were too tired to question. With a stupid smile on your face, you muttered “Fortuna major,” before quietly stepping into the Gryffindor common room.

Clambering up the stairs and shuffling toward your room, you opened the creaky mahogany door as gently as possible, slinking towards your bed. Thankfully, your dormmates seemed none the wiser to your late arrival from prefect rounds. Shucking off your clothes, you nimbly changed into your pajamas in the dark, only managing to stub your toe once. Eager to slump into bed, your eyes almost missed the wrapped package sitting on your comforter, tied up with string.

Another gift? Already?

…Not that I’m complaining.

Trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes, you brought the package under your blanket with you, muttering a quick, “Lumos,” to see the damned thing. Fingers fumbling in exhaustion, you finally managed to get it open to see a matching scarf and gloves, woven from a luxurious-feeling cashmere wool and dyed a stunning shade of cranberry. At the end of the scarf, towards the fringe, you found your initials embroidered in a soft white. You rubbed the fabric between your fingers, treasuring its softness.

As was custom, you searched for the signature piece of parchment, which was tucked into the crinkled tissue paper. Opening it, you couldn’t fight the smile that graced your weary face.

Y/N,

Hopefully these can help you stay warm, darling.

Yours,

Teddy

If it weren’t for the late hour and your dormmates slumbering in such close quarters, you think you might have squealed and melted into a puddle of mush with the warmth coursing through you. Nixing the light coming from your wand, you placed the latest gift on your nightstand, gingerly touching the cloth one last time. Closing your eyes, you drifted off to sleep at last, a smile on your slumbering face.

Hannah laughed at your ridiculous request as you trod together towards the stands. “I hardly think that will be necessary.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you hunched over in a vain attempt to contain your quickly dissipating body heat. “I think my fingers might actually freeze off, Han. Are my lips turning blue?” You turned to the blonde, playfully pursing your lips.

Hannah grasped your chin, giving your mouth a quick glimpse before a grim expression overtook her face. “Looks like you’ve got a bad case of frostbite. Might need to amputate, honestly.” You gasped in mock horror.

Another gust of autumnal wind had you cringing at the chill. “My nipples could cut through diamonds, right about now,” you muttered. That had Hannah pealing over with laughter.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Enough with the dramatics. You’ll be warmer once we’re in the stands.”

You shuffled closer to Hannah as you began to walk up the countless flights of stairs of the stands, grasping her arm in yours and intending to steal her body heat. “You’re no fun, ‘Mione.” She ignored you.

Rude.

“Don’t you worry,” Hannah said, moving her arm out of your grasp to pull you in by the shoulder. “I’ll keep you nice and warm,” she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“My knight in shining armor!” You exclaimed, clasping your hands to your chest and batting your lashes at her in faux flirtation.

Behind you, Hermione groaned. “It’s too bloody early to be dealing with you two.”

You and Hannah quickly wrapped Hermione in your fold, trying to alleviate the sour mood of your dear friend. Finally, she gave you a reluctant grin. “Alright, alright, let’s just get a spot in the stands before they’re all gone, hm?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The three of you eventually found seats beside the Patil twins who had also come to cheer on the Gryffindor team. Parvati seemed surprised at your arrival.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you, Y/n. You’re not usually one for early morning quidditch.”

Parvati wasn’t wrong. You took sleeping in on the weekends very seriously, considering how little you got to once the school year got into the swing of things.

You shrugged, “You know, it’s our seventh year—have to enjoy it while I can, yeah?”

Not that a certain Slytherin was counting on your appearance or anything.

Parvati seemed to squint the slightest bit, as if sensing your response wasn’t the whole truth.

“Besides,” you said, bumping her shoulder with yours, “I’ve decided to grace the masses with my presence. I’m all about being generous.” Parvati let out a shocked breath before giving you a shoulder bump of her own.

“Whatever you say.”

As with any match between the rival houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin, underhanded moves, bodychecks, and downright filthy maneuvers characterized the playing strategy of both teams. Tensions were high across the pitch and within the stands as everyone watched with bated breath and barely contained excitement to see which team would beat out the other. Lee Jordan’s voice occasionally rang out over the enchanted speakers announcing fouls and goals as blips of green and red crossed your vision. You could hardly make any of them out as they whooshed past and left you colder than ever.

If my mum were here, I’d never hear the end of not bringing a coat.

You continued to fitfully shiver as you tried to discern the players, looking out for Harry and Ginny amongst others. The one player you could definitively make out was the Slytherin keeper nearest to where you sat, who was none other than your Potions partner. It made sense that Theo was a keeper, considering Ron’s particular dislike for the Italian.

Ron was many things, but subtle was not one of them.

Despite being decked out in your house’s colors, you couldn’t help but cheer internally each time Theo skillfully deterred Gryffindor chasers attempting to score. There was a certain degree of elegance to his athleticism. It was calculating and methodical, but aggressive all the same. He was well suited to Slytherin. Theo belonged on the quidditch pitch.

He looked…good out there.

As if sensing your gaze from the stands, Theo’s eyes trailed over before settling on you. Meeting his stare, you gave a small smile and sent a small wave, keeping your other arm tucked into your body for warmth. He flashed a grin that you could only describe as roguish, before his attention was drawn back to the game. Katie Bell was rearing toward him, careening with the crimson quaffle in tow. Cutting through the air, Theo dodged an incoming bludger before swatting the leather-covered quaffle with his broom head away from the tiered goal hoops. As his teammates caught the quaffle and raced in the opposite direction, that heavy gaze of his returned to you. His mirthful eyes almost seemed to say, “Did you see that?”

You did. You saw him.

210-130. The final score reflected Gryffindor’s unexpected triumph over Slytherin, thanks to Harry’s innate talent as a Seeker. Despite Slytherin having a lead on Gryffindor for the entirety of the game, Draco had let the snitch slip through his grasp, leading the team to a rough and irritating defeat. Around you, the crowd was in an uproar, raucously celebrating Gryffindor’s victory, setting the tone for the oncoming quidditch season. You cheered with Hermione and Parvati by your side, clapping for your friends on the team and their exciting win. Soon, you were all clambering down onto the wet green of the pitch, awaiting the team’s reappearance.

Huddling into the warmth of Parvati’s side, you and your friends recounted the best moments of the match.

“Can you believe that early save by Ron? I swear, I thought Pucey was going to take his head clean off.” Hermione exclaimed.

“Worried over Ron, are we?” teased Hannah, prompting a shove from Hermione.

“I’m allowed to worry about my best friend, aren’t I?”

“Oh, so that’s what he is, hm?” questioned Padma to your right, who, anticipating Hermione’s incoming push, deftly avoided it. Hermione glared.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your friends’ antics, gaze trailing over the field swarming with students, professors, and the like. A group of green crossed your vision, the Slytherin team reemerging from their changing rooms, looking absolutely miffed. Theo’s head was turned toward the ground, eyebrows furrowed in what you had no doubt was a sour expression.

Poor Theo—he must be absolutely gutted.

You tried to make eye contact with him, but now he was avoiding your eyes, squaring his shoulders as he plodded away from the pitch, alone. The sight was all too familiar, reminding you of that day in Hogsmeade.

Someone should go after him…right?

You shifted your feet, unsure, before speaking to your friends, “Hey guys, I’m going to—” Your next words were interrupted by Ginny’s arm circling over your shoulder and her excited holler, reanimating the crowd into shouts of victory. The Gryffindor team was back. As your friends cheered and swarmed around you, the sight of Theo’s back disappeared from your vision, lost in a crowd of crimson and gold. Soon, you were being moved along with the rest of Gryffindor house and friends back to the common room to celebrate the first victory of the season. You took one last look in the direction the Slytherin keeper went, before moving along with your friends.