manic dollhouse

Your Quidditch playing beater boyfriend was going to be the death of you. 

“But what’s wrong with this one?” You huffed, your shoulders sagging as you glanced down at the fabric that clung to your body like second skin, running a hand across the diamantes that shimmered like tiny stars sewn into the dress. “I’m running out of options, and you said you liked this one.” 

Mattheo’s grin widened and his eyes drifted down your body lazily, drinking in the strappy heels you’d paired with your outfit and the matching shimmery handbag. His gaze lifted slowly, sliding up your legs, gliding over the soft skin of your thighs that was on show, still silky and glimmering from your shower earlier. He hummed, his eyebrow lifting at the short hem that left little to the imagination, the tip of his tongue brushing across his bottom lip. 

“I never said I didn’t like it,” his voice rumbled, raspy and low like it often was when he was trying to turn you on. His arms flexed as he moved to push himself up, meeting your gaze with a salacious glint in his eyes. “Quite the opposite, actually. Your arse looks phenomenal…” 

“Mattheo.” You whined, arms slapping down at your sides, shooting him a withering stare to scold his lewdness. “You promised you’d help me choose.” 

“I am helping.” He insisted, his pointer finger twirling in a small circle, a silent instruction to give in to his insatiable nature. He watched you through half lidded eyes, making no effort to hide the way his hand skirted over his crotch, adjusting himself. “C’mon pretty girl, spin for me.” 

It was impossible to stay angry at him. The tight lipped scowl you’d been directing his way morphing into a wry, barely contained grin, your cheeks heating under his watchful gaze. It was too easy to give in to him when he looked at you like that. 

“Pretty please,” he coaxed, tilting his head at the smile that was beginning to bloom on your lips, knowing you couldn’t say no when he asked so nicely.

Your teeth bit at your bottom lip. Noticing the way his eyes trailed across your body, the smugness in his expression as he reached down to ease the growing strain beneath his pyjama bottoms— it was all too much. He’d adjusted himself while you contemplated giving in, sitting up and leaning back on his hands, his legs spread wide as he waited with bated breath. 

Slowly your hands unclenched, your heels tapping against the floor as you spun slowly for him, shy under his stare as you showed off every angle of your dress. A soft sigh left him as your back turned, and when you were finally facing him again, his eyes were blown wide and his lips had parted to let out another strangled groan.

“Salazar’s bloody ballsack,” he murmured, head dropping back to stare at the ceiling for a moment, collecting himself. “You’re not wearing that anywhere.” 

You scoffed, heels clunking loudly as you walked across the dormitory, pausing at the foot of the bed, right between his spread legs, and glared at him. “You’re my boyfriend, you know, not my father.” 

His head was level with your sternum in this position, and he had to crane his neck to look up at you. His eyes darkening as his hands planted against your thighs, slithering up to your hips, one curling at your waist, pulling you closer, and the other resting against your arse. 

“You… are not… wearing that… anywhere.” He repeated slowly, as though you might’ve misheard him the first time. “Especially not around the rest of the Quidditch team. Otherwise I might just have to permanently blind the lot of them.” 

Your brows lifted humorously, your hands coming to rest against his shoulder and tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. Your fingers gently twisted in his hair, gaze flitting over his broad shoulders and toned arms. That familiar sensation began to curl in your stomach as your thighs pressed together, long past caring about what dress you were going to wear later.

“Oh really?” you hummed, knowing full well he’d never really tell you that you couldn’t wear something. You tugged softly at his hair, pulling his head back just that bit farther and gazing into his eyes. 

“Mhm, really.” Mattheo nodded, his hands beginning to slide across your body, groping and stroking at you reverently. You smirked, watching the glee in his face as his hands explored. 

“Think of the team, Slytherin are close to winning the Cup,” he murmured in a deeply dramatic tone that had your eyes rolling, “What use is Malfoy in catching the snitch without any eyes?” 

His thumbs dug into the fabric as though testing how flimsy it was, still looking up at you with that glazed look in his eyes. 

“Exactly,” you grinned, cupping his cheek and stroking your thumb across his cheekbone, “Think of the team. They deserve a morale boost.” 

Mattheo, to his credit, had the sense to see you were only teasing, even as a look of pure horror broke out on his face. 

“They do not deserve that kind of privilege.” 

You began to giggle at the seriousness in his tone, the way he sat up straighter and seemed to snap out of his lustful teasing. The way his face softened at your laugh frustratingly endearing as he gazed up at you, like it was the best thing he’d heard all day. 

“Besides, you're my girlfriend, not theirs.” he muttered with a pout. 

You rolled your eyes fondly, fingers threading through his curls again as you laughed, this side of him was your favourite. The softer, vulnerable side he only showed when the two of you were alone. He practically purred under the attention, shameless as ever, tilting his head further into your touch.

“You know,” you mused lightly, “most boyfriends would just say their girlfriends look nice.”

“I did say you looked nice.”

“You said my arse looked phenomenal.”

“It does.” 

He maintained his straight face for all of two seconds, before you snorted in disbelief, and he grinned at the sound. Utterly pleased with himself for dragging such a sound from you. The two of you were quiet for a moment, and his eyes raked over you once more, slower this time. Appreciating every inch of your body. 

“Fine,” he sighed heavily. Relenting though he sounded bitter about it, “You can wear the dress tonight.” 

Your brows lifted in surprise, pausing your fingers that had begun to scratch at his scalp. 

“Wait, really?” Your face lit up, peering down at him with a puzzled look. 

“No.” he replied almost instantly, grip tightening around your hips, “Absolutely not. I just wanted to see your face.” 

Theo was just admiring how particularly gray the walls of the castle were looking this fine afternoon when a sharp elbow to the ribs pulls his attention back to the old bat's class. Theo shoots a glare Enzo's way as he rubs his wounded ribcage pointedly. To only further his agitation, Theo notices that Trelawney is now stood directly in front of him extending a deck of tarot cards to him as she blinks her wide owlish eyes at him expectantly.

With a deep sigh and a rather dramatic eye roll, Theo plucks a card from the deck and hands it back to the witch without even bothering to glance at it. Trelawney doesn't seem to mind much though as she inhales sharply, a grin that seemed much too wide for her face forming as she flips the card back to Theo.

"Yes, yes. Just as I predicted dear boy. Just as I predicted. The Two of Cups!" She announces proudly, brandishing the card out towards the class.

Daphne squeals.

"Oh Teddy—"

"Don't call me that."

Daphne ignores him.

"How exciting. How romantic," she continues, clearly far more interested in the pull than Theo was.

She pulls out a script of parchment, finger tracing down the lines of notes until she finds what she's searching for. Then she shoves the parchment under Theo's nose.

"Look there. The Two of Cups—signifies mutual attraction and deep connections. A representation of kindred spirits in the early stages of falling in love. That's so romantic," she gushes, continuing on in her notes.

Enzo snorts doing a horrible job trying to stifle his laughter. Theo glowers, not even wanting to deign such a ridiculous concept with a response. This was ludicrous. The whole thing. Theo had been attending Hogwarts for well long enough to know that there was not a single present student in the school that he would even dignify having a romantic relationship with. He can't help but shake his head and scoff at the mere idea.

"Oh lighten up Teddy, heaven forbid you let Daphne have this," Enzo snickers, clearly enjoying the discomfort the whole thing brought Theo.

It was easy for him to say. It wasn't his love life being carefully dissected by their mystic enthused friend.

Being the new student at any new school was always going to be nerve wracking. But being the new student at a new school in a whole new country was significantly worse in every aspect. Whispers float down the corridors, your name echoing off the high ceilings of the castle, and eyes flicker towards the ground as you pass as if they hadn't just been staring shamelessly the moment prior. Normally the stares wouldn't bother you much, but the constant hushed voices were beginning to be unnerving. Your lips tighten as you move swiftly through the halls and you can't help but feel a bit self conscious as you smooth out your unfamiliar, deep blue robes.

You weren't exactly enthusiastic about your new school to begin with. It was different—of course it would be—but no matter how much you had prepared yourself for all the changes, it just hadn't been enough. Like really, they let a ratty, old—albeit sentient—hat determine house placements? You hadn't wanted that thing anywhere near your head, but it just couldn't be helped. Then, once you had been placed into your house, you come to find that yours is the only one in the entire school that requires you to solve a freaking riddle just to get into your damn room. Asinine. And to top it all off, the wretched school was literally impossible to navigate because the staircases, apparently, were also sentient and did whatever the hell they wanted.

All that to say, when you finally collapse into a seat in the back of, what you hoped was the History of Magic classroom, you were more than a little miffed. With an agitated huff, you try to stay invisible as more students begin to file into the classroom, taking their seats closer to the front. As seats fill, the extra buffer of breathing room melts a bit of the tension in your shoulders. When your professor—a ghost you notice dryly—begins to write on the chalk board, you finally feel yourself start to relax, pulling out a roll of parchment from your bag and carefully copying down each line.

Just as you're about to finish—The Gargoyle Strike of 1911—the classroom door swings open once more and a boy with brown hair and dark, calculating eyes saunters in. You're content with giving him a quick, uninterested glance before getting back to your notes, but unfortunately for you, the boy is rapidly approaching. His bag hits the floor next to you with a dull thread and you feel your lips turn downward into a frown as you look up at the boy once more in annoyance.

You watch as the boy's mouth opens as if to say something, but then his eyes meet yours and you watch him freeze, mouth agape for a moment then two. Just as it's becoming a bit uncomfortable, he seems to awaken from his trance looking shaken, brows furrowing as if he were wondering why on Earth he was just standing there like a fool. Still though, he tilts his head awkwardly—chin gesturing towards the rest of the class—and for the first time you notice that every other seat in the room seems to be occupied. With a sigh of defeat, you wordlessly turn back to the board, preparing to scramble to write down whatever you'd missed just now, content with simply ignoring this boy's existence for the the rest of class.

"A 'wildcat strike' refers to a stopping of work by unionized workers without authorization from the union. In 1911 the wildcats were winning, meaning things were moving in favor of the gargoyles—"

Good god this was horrible. You weren't even ten minutes into your first day of this new class and you already wanted to throw yourself off the top of Ravenclaw tower. It seemed as though many of the other students in class felt similarly as one of the boys sitting a few rows in front of you lets out a concernedly loud snore. You have to choke down a snicker as your eyes flicker up to the ghost at the front of the room, but he doesn't seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn't care.

"That's Finnigan. There's a running bet on how long it'll take him to fall asleep after Binns starts monologuing," the boy next to you murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You turn to look at the boy, surprised to hear him speak after all, and for the first time take a good look. Shit. He was hot. You don't really get the chance to dwell too much on it though because he speaks again.

"That one next to him is Thomas. Any second now he'll start piling things on top of 'em. See how high the stack gets before it falls over or Finnigan wakes up. Whichever comes first."

As if on queue, the boy next to the snoring kid carefully places a thick text book on his friend's back. Then another. It's like you can't look away as you watch on in morbid fascination.

"They friends of yours?" you find yourself asking as the boy, Thomas, adds an ink well to his tower.

Your desk partner snorts.

"Hardly. Lions and snakes don't exactly get along," he says smoothly.

You have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but you don't want to ask. Instead you continue to watch as a bag of Bertie Bott's jelly beans, three quills, a sweater, and someone's pet frog is added to the pile. A potted plant is about to be placed on top when a sneeze sends the whole thing crashing to the floor. Professor Binns doesn't even blink as he just continues on. Finnigan's head shoots up as he takes in his surroundings once more, shoulders slumping when he apparently realizes where he is. Understandable.

The rest of class is an absolute drag as you flit in and out of different thoughts and daydreams. Anywhere was better than here, listening to this ghost drown on. If he were any less interesting, you're sure the entire class would die of sheer boredom and be cursed to haunt this very classroom with the old professor. Doomed to be subjected to the very thing that killed you all in the first place for all eternity.

After what you're certain is the longest hour of your life, class finally ends, but to your dismay, you realize that halfway through class you'd simply given up on taking notes. Dammit. As though reading your mind, the boy next to you slides his parchment towards you. His notes are impeccable. Perfectly neat rows in dark ink with not a smudge in sight.

"I can get them back tomorrow," he says simply, before returning the rest of his materials into his bag.

You open your mouth to thank the boy, but before you even get the chance he's gone in a swoosh of emerald green and black.

The whole thing leaves you a bit stunned. It was the first real interaction you'd had with, really anyone at your new school and you couldn't tell if you'd completely blown it or not. He'd seemed decent enough, whoever he was. And that's when it occurs to you. You hadn't even bothered to ask the boy's name.

"Mmm. What was their name again?" Theo asks, trying to appear nonchalant as he inserts himself into Enzo and Daphne's conversation.

The three of them occupied their usual spots inside the Slytherin common room, the soft glow of green flames painting their faces as their voices mix in with the other echoes of the dungeon. Enzo eyes Theo suspiciously, noting that—despite the unbothered front he put on—Theo's fingers couldn't seem to stop tapping anxiously against his knee. See, usually when Enzo and Daphne were participating in their daily debrief, Theo was staring off into the abyss, pointedly ignoring them. So it didn't take an intuitive genius to pick up on the sudden spike of interest he was showing.

"Y/n. They're from America," Daphne says helpfully, seemingly oblivious to the way that Enzo was trying to dissect their friend's inner most thoughts.

"Why all the interest? They catch your eye? Are you two already falling into the early stages of love?" He taunts when he isn't able to get a proper read on his friend.

Theo's heart stops beating in his chest for half a moment before he juts out his chin defiantly.

"All anyone will talk about. Just curious to know who all the fuss is about," he retorts, forcing his voice to remain steady as he continues to stare ahead, avoiding the curious glances of his friends.

He can tell Enzo doesn't quite buy it, but that simply isn't his problem to worry about at the moment.

So they were from America. Huh.

Truthfully, Theo didn't know much about America. Hadn't ever really cared to find anything out. He was familiar with Ilvermorny of course. Which was presumably your former school, but that was pretty much the extent of it. Maybe he'd ask you about it tomorrow.

Assuming he didn't freeze up again at the mere sight of you. Salazar's ball sack that had been bloody embarrassing. Theo couldn't think of a single other time he'd ever frozen up like that, brief as it had been. Usually Theo liked to consider himself to be quite suave. Charming even, if he did say so himself. And he did. It was completely unlike him to be rendered speechless. Especially not by the mere presence of someone with a pretty face.

But it simply hadn't been his fault. How was he supposed to expect that some great, higher power was going to reach deep into his inner most thoughts and desires—pull together every single physical trait that Theo could possibly fantasize about—and combine them all into one single heavenly creature, and then plop them down right next to him in History of Magic of all classes.

Fate was cruel.

And speaking of fate, there was also all that nonsense from Divination that morning to think about. Theo leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. Surely the fact that batty, old Trelawney had predicted that he would fall in love was a complete coincidence in relation to him practically being prepared to propose to the new student in History of Magic a mere few hours later. How could it be anything else? Divination wasn't real. The whole class had been so close to being completely scrapped so many times that you either had to be a fool, or Daphne to believe in it.

Okay, so maybe Theodore was starting to believe it. A little. But what was he supposed to think as he watches you drag your feet through the door scowling? He feels his chest tighten as the two of you make eye contact and he watches as you make your way over to him.

"This seat taken?" you ask, already dropping your bag to the floor. "Didn't take you as one to be into this kinda stuff," you say conversationally as you pull parchment and a quill from your bag.

Theo scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not," he assures, "But Daph is," he adds, head tilting as he gestures to his friend.

He watches as your eyes dart over to the pretty brunette sitting happily between him and Enzo, assessing.

"Oh. Are you two?" The question lingers on your lips and Theo is quick to shake his head no.

Salazar he was being stupid. Of course you would assume—Why was he being like this?

"Nah. No. Daph's an old friend. Enz and I are just here for moral support. And an easy O." Theo hears himself drawl. "What about you? Training to become a seer?"

"Hardly. This was the only elective left that fit into my schedule apparently."

Salazar's balls you were perfect, Theo thinks to himself as Trelawney comes sweeping into the room. Her eyes are closed and her fingertips are pressed against her temples as she swooshes around the room, humming lowly.

"I feel new energy. An unfamiliar presence. You!" Trelawney screeches in her trembly voice, stopping in front of a poor, innocent Hufflepuff with an accusatory finger hovering dangerously close to their eyeball.

Theo can't help but let out a dry snicker and is delighted when he sees you out of the corner of his eye trying to hold back a laugh too. When it's clear to the old professor that the student in front of her had actually been present all year, her eyes scan the room, finally coming to a stop when they rest on you.

"Ah, there you are my dear! Your energy feels so concentrated on this side of the room, it simply drew me over," Trelawney babbles as she makes her way over. "Now let's see here. Palms up dear, palms up, let me have a look."

Theo watches amused, ignoring the weird kissing faces Enzo is making at him, as you sigh but still present your palms facing upwards to the professor. Her bony talons quickly engulf your hands, her eyes fluttering shut once more as her head tilts back, a low hum starting once more.

"Yes, yes. How interesting," the hums get louder as the professor's fingers dig into the lines of your palms. "I see. In the darkest hour, a dark shadow, it will over take you. Consume you."

Trelawney's eyes snap open and Theo watches her face melt back into a warm smile as she gives your hands one last squeeze.

"Welcome to class dear. We have much to learn, so much to see!"

Theo finds that he rather likes the way his heart swells when you turn to look at him, brow raised as you shake your head ever so slightly as if to say, 'what a nutter'.

"How many freaking goblin rebellions is it going to take before the British Ministry finally takes the hint and leaves those poor goblins alone?" you huff, slamming your books a little too loudly onto your table in the library.

You can feel Madam Pince attempting to burn a hole through your back as she glares at you, but you ignore her.

"Probably at least—" Theo checks his notes from the day's lesson, "six or seven. Unfortunately not every revolution to rid oneself of British rule is successful," he teases lightly.

You glare at the boy pointedly.

"I'm not even particularly, patriotic," you grumble, the word actually quite sour on your tongue, "but nothing brings Americans together quite like our mutual hatred of the British."

"Mmm. Do let it go on record now that my family is Italian," Theo replies dryly.

Theodore had very quickly become your closest friend at Hogwarts. From that first day in History of Magic the two of you just seemed to click. It also definitely helped that not only did he share your dry sense of humor, but he was also insanely smart, and very easy on the eyes. You'd been worried for a split second when he first introduced you to Daphne Greengrass, a familiar turning in your stomach that you'd quickly identified as jealousy flaring up, but it had been quickly squashed when Theo assured you that they were indeed just friends. But that was neither here nor there. You and Theo had become practically inseparable in the month that you'd been at your new school, much to the chagrin of his friends. You liked them too of course, and they'd been good sports about welcoming you into their little group, but with Theo it was just easy.

You slide your potions notes across the table just as Theo hands over his Charms essay for you to look over. No words exchanged, but you were both perfectly in sync. Easy.

It's far past dark when you finally push your chair back, the old wood scraping against the floor, and you force yourself to stifle a yawn.

"Alright. I'm calling it a night," you announce as you begin packing up your books. "I should head back in case it takes an hour to get that damn eagle to open up the common room door again."

You hear Theo let out a snort at your last comment. He'd heard well and good your complaints about that stupid hunk of metal.

"Guess I'll head out as well. Mattheo has been complaining that he never sees me anymore, but he's just mad he can't copy my notes anymore."

The two of you quickly gather the rest of your things, slinking out of the library right as Pince begins making her rounds to toss the last lingering students out before closing the doors for the night. The walk to Ravenclaw tower is made in comfortable silence as you walk side by side, both of you trying to ignore the way the back of your hands were brushing against each other as you went. When you finally arrive, a whole group of students in black and blue are outside the door when it swings open. Not wanting to miss your chance, you toss Theo a smile over your shoulder before disappearing with the crowd of students through the door.

As soon as you enter your room, you dump your bag on the ground at the foot of your bed, trade your stiff school uniform for a more comfortable track set, and turn right back out the door—a disillusionment spell on the tip of your tongue. You move silently against the walls, retracing the same steps you'd just taken, leading your right back to the library. It's dark now—you knew from experience that as soon as the clock hit ten, Pince was out the doors. You lift your wand, ready to cast the usual alohomora but tonight something stops you. Call it a gut feeling. You grip the handle of the heavy, wood door and without so much as a squeak, the door swings open. Huh. Maybe the cranky librarian had been in such a rush to leave she forgot to lock up.

Without giving it so much as a second thought, you slip through the doors, following the familiar path that lead you right to the heart of the restricted section of the library. Really, you often found yourself wondering, why on Earth did they have a so called restricted section, and then not even bother to put up a single ward to keep students from entering? Wasn't very restricted if they asked you. Your fingertips brush over the spines of different books as you pass through the shelves, pulling one from the shelf every so often if it catches your eye. The silence of the empty library was deafening, but you relished the way you could hear your footsteps echoing on the tile and the rustle of pages turning as you flipped through your nightly finds.

You're on your tiptoes, straining to reach a large tome from the top shelf when you catch sight of a dark shadow appearing out of the corner of your eye. God, you hoped it wasn't that old man Filch. He wasn't as bad as everyone made him seem, you'd been able to talk him out of snitching on you thus far, but it kind of ruined the mood. Your hand drops to rest on the handle of your wand as the shady figure draws closer and you prepare to throw one of your books its way just in case.

"What are you doing here?" the confused voice of Theodore rings out just as you're about to launch your copy of Moste Potente Potions at his head.

You feel your shoulders sag in relief. You hadn't been scared of course. Just vaguely alarmed. Then you let out a laugh.

"And what's funny?"

"Oh, nothing. Just Trelawney and her whole 'A dark shadow is going to overtake you' spiel," you snicker. "And what do you mean what am I doing here? What are you doing here?" you ask rather indignantly, turning back to focus on the book that was just out of your reach.

"I come down to the library at night all the time," Theo replies, crossing his arms defensively.

"Well it's obviously not all the time because I've been here every night this month and I've never seen you down here," you reply casually.

You can practically hear Theo rolling his eyes at you.

"Well of course not all the time, Filch would start getting—sorry did you say you've been here every night? How has Filch not caught you?"

You shrug your shoulders noncommittally, glaring up at the book that seemed to be just taunting you.

"He has a few times, but we usually just chat for a little and then he'll send me on my way."

You don't see the absolutely stunned look on Theo's face.

"You chat? With Filch. About what?" Theo asks incredulously.

You let out an exasperated sigh.

"The weather. Cat toy recommendations for Mrs. Norris. His mother's retirement in France. I don't know, we chat about a lot of things."

You still aren't facing Theo, but if you had been, you probably would have laughed at the completely gobsmacked look that was written across his face.

"Now will you be useful and get that book down for me?" you ask, foot stomping impatiently on the ground.

Still too shocked to respond, Theo reaches up over your head, placing one hand on your shoulder for balance as he easily plucks the book you'd been reaching for off the shelf. Just as he's about to hand it to you though, it seems he comes back to his senses and that smug grin that you'd become so familiar with recently finds its way back to his lips.

"Uh uh uh, where's my reward?" he teases, holding the book just out of reach once more as he smirks down at you.

"Reward?" you ask dryly, looking up to raise an eyebrow at your friend.

Had he always been standing so close?

"I'm a Slytherin. I don't do something for nothing now," he says, voice like honey in your ears.

"What do you want?" you ask, eyes narrowing.

Theo tilts his head as if pretending to think.

"A kiss."

You blink, shoulders shrugging as you turn to face the boy properly. Seemed fair enough to you. You were definitely getting the best end of the deal. So you tug on the collar of Theo's sweatshirt, before crashing your lips into his. His lips are warm and soft and that's all you take note of before pulling away quickly. Theo is clearly stunned once more so you take the opportunity to finally get your hands on the book you'd been eyeing this whole time.

"Thanks Theo!"

Theodore Nott was dangerously close to never brushing his teeth ever again. Because you had kissed him last night. In some sudden, stupid burst of confidence he had asked you to kiss him and you did. It had been a complete joke—Theo hadn't even remotely considered that you'd actually do it, but you'd grabbed the collar of his jumper and then your lips were on his and he knew he was well and truly done for.

"Theo. Theo! You need to get your act together mate," Lorenzo grunts, elbowing his friend to get his attention.

"What? Stop that," Theo mutters, batting his friend away from him.

"Seriously. You're acting like a love sick puppy."Brie

Theo glares.

"Would take one to know one," he snaps, falling back in his seat with a huff.

Now it's Enzo's turn to narrow his eyes.

"I'm going to choose to ignore that because you're just upset that you didn't kiss y/n back," he responds.

Theo's eyes bulge at the bold—albeit correct—observation.

"Can you keep your bloody voice down?" he hisses, eyes flickering about to make sure no one had heard.

Luckily, you had only just entered the divination classroom so at least Theo was safe for now. Or maybe not.

"Morning," you say brightly giving the group a small wave and taking your usual spot next to Theo.

Theo opens his mouth to respond but, Salazar you smelled good today, and your lips, god your lips looked soft and pink and, the words feel caught in Theo's throat. Somewhere in the distance he can hear Enzo snickering obnoxiously, but all Theo can do is stare at you dumbly. This was mortifying. As soon as he figured out how to move again Theo was launching himself straight off this bloody tower.

"Hey, do you want to sneak into the library again tonight?" you ask casually, laying your things out on your desk, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you were about to send Theo into cardiac arrest.

Of course I'll sneak back into the library with you. Especially if it means you'll kiss me again, Theo wants to say. But he has at least a little bit of dignity left, so he straightens himself in his chair, trying to maintain at least somewhat of an air of nonchalance as he finally strings a sentence together.

"Sure."

Okay, so a sentence might be giving himself a bit too much credit, but it was better than sitting there gaping like a daft idiot. You seem satisfied with his answer though as you turn to face the front just as Trelawney waltzes into the room with her usual dramatic flair. Theo drifts in and out of the lesson as Trelawney rambles on about tea leaves and the placement of tasseography symbols. He tried to focus. Really he needed to, because the alternative was his gaze finding its way to the curve of your lips and the way your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek as you furiously scribbled down notes.

The gentle sound of metal clinking on china pulls Theo wholey back to class as a spoon taps impatiently on the teacup in front of him as if urging him to drink. Glancing around he sees most of his classmates were already bottoms up. Drinking down the rather bitter liquid, Theo carefully places his cup back down in front of him, peering disinterestedly at its contents. Just looked like soggy tea leaves to him.

Trelawney insists on moving about the room though, dissecting the meanings inside each little cup and leaving behind a trail of utterly befuddled students in her wake. When she finally reaches Theo, he can visibly see her begin to vibrate with excitement as she moves his cup around in her hands, swishing the tea leaves back and forth.

"Look there, dear. Do you see?" she asks giddily, shoving the teacup back in Theo's face.

"No." he replies flatly, not even bothering to examine the wet leaves.

"Look closer."

Theo's nose is practically inside the cup now and he can hear you and Enz snickering on either side of him. Traitors. When he still doesn't say anything, Trelawney lets out a huff, sticking her crooked finger into the cup and speaking slowly as if explaining something to a small child.

"Right there. Don't you see?" she asks, as if it should've been the most obvious thing in the world. "An axe—" she swirls the cup to the side. "And a butterfly."

Theo stares blankly at the old woman.

"Use their notes and figure it out," she finally huffs in exasperation before sweeping off to another table.

As soon as she's gone and Theo makes eye contact with you he can't help but chuckle as Daphne scowls at the two of you.

"Look," she sighs, shoving her notes across the table for Theo to read.

The Axe—problems overcome

The Butterfly—success and pleasure

Wonderful. More nonsense. That was the problem with divination—the definitions were so broad they were basically meaningless. Overcoming problems and success? That could be about anything. Theo pushes the parchment back to its owner with a shrug. He'd just do what he always did and make something up for the assignment.

Shadows loom against the dimly lit walls of the library as you and Theo wander through the shelves together. Theo had been quieter than usual tonight. To be fair, he wasn't usually the most talkative person ever, but you had had to push to get your usual banter out of him. He clearly had something on his mind. You don't push though. That was something you both appreciated about each other—just being there together was enough.

Once you both have a sizable stack of books pulled together you tuck yourselves away in one of the back corners of the restricted section. Far enough that not even Mrs. Norris would bother to wander all the way back. You find yourself curling up next to your friend, legs pressed together and shoulders brushing as you cast a soft lumos charm just bright enough to illuminate the pages of your books as you read. The quiet is nice after a long day of navigating the crowded halls and classrooms of the school. Hogwarts was definitely a lively place, and you hadn't realized just how much you missed having some peace and quiet until you'd snuck out of Ravenclaw tower that first night.

"Do you think divination might not be completely useless?" Theo asks a while later, breaking the silence.

You look up in surprise before glancing down at the book he's reading—Divination Through the Ages: A Skeptics Guide—your eyebrows furrowing in thought. If you were being honest, you'd always thought that divination was, to be polite, dumb. In fact, you'd been rather pissed when your head of house, Professor Flitwick, had told you that it was the only class that would fit in your schedule. But you didn't think that was what Theo wanted to hear at the moment.

"I mean, all forms of magic have their unique uses I suppose," you reply carefully, wondering where this was going.

Theo just hums in response, continuing to finger through the pages of the book as you watch with curiosity. Finally, with a deep breath, he snaps the book closed and turns to face you. It's clear he wants to say something as you search his eyes which seem to be getting ever so slightly closer by the second. You can't help the way your eyes drop down to his lips as his tongue glides across his bottom lip nervously. They're so close now you can practically feel the way they had pressed against your own last night. However brief that encounter had been. When you finally tilt your head back up to meet his eyes once more, your nose brushes his and you feel your breath hitch. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was about to kiss you right now.

And then his lips are on yours and you feel your body go limp as he pulls you into him, your eyes fluttering closed as he molds you to him. Your book slips from your fingers with a dull thud as it hits the ground, but you hardly notice. Theo's lips are just as warm, and soft, and utterly intoxicating as you remembered them to be. You can feel Theo smiling against your lips as he pulls you impossibly closer and you forget where you are, what you were doing, everything except what it feels like to be held in Theo's arms.

When you finally break apart, it's your turn to blink in stunned silence as Theo gazes down at you, his breath warm against your cheek.

"Ever since you arrived, everything that divination has told me has come true," Theo says gruffly, clearly not pleased to be having to admit it.

You couldn't blame him. The two of you had kind of bonded over how unseriously you both took the class. Still though, you tilt your head, inviting him to continue.

"The first day we met—that morning in divination, a deck of tarot cards told me I was going to fall in love."

A dry laugh escapes Theo's lips as he pulls back, eyes trained everywhere but at you now. Which is probably for the best as you feel tendrils of heat creeping up into your face.

"I didn't believe them of course. Thought it was pure rubbish."

Your heart stutters for a moment before your eyes land on the book Theo had been reading so intently up until now.

"Hm. And did something change?" you ask cautiously, not daring to get your hopes up.

"Well, the soggy leaves in my tea this morning kind of implied that I should get my act together if I wanted any sort of success, so—" Theo lets out another wry laugh, though there's no humor in his voice. Just a nervous undertone that you can tell he's trying to mask.

"Well did you? Fall in love that is?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy around Theo for the first time.

There's a beat of silence where you can practically feel your heart trying to tear its way out of your chest. You hadn't quite realized just how much you wanted this until it was staring you in the face. Or rather anywhere but. Then Theo meets your eyes once more.

"I think I could. If I'm not half way there already."

His words melt every bit of tension you had been feeling previously as you let out a breath that you didn't know you'd been holding.

"I think I'm half way there too."