#lovebotmo

You sputter at her brashness, “Me and Theo? There’s—”

“It’s Theo now, is it?” Padma asks. “When did he become Theo, eh?” Padma nudges your shoulder with her own.

“Oh, shove it, Pads!” You could practically feel the red rising in your face and neck at the undivided attention now being paid to your very short, tiny, essentially minimal interaction with a male specimen. You felt like a research subject whenever your friends interrogated you like this. “I was just worried Theo was going to miss the train—a very normal thing to be worried about considering he’s my potion partner and I bloody well can’t use his brain if he’s stranded in Hogsmeade! Besides,” you said, pulling at the sleeves of your wooly sweater, “that fight between Malfoy and him looked downright awful.” At that, the girls abruptly halted their aggressive probing, uneasily remembering the spat that had taken place very publicly in The Three Broomsticks. All, except for Luna, who continued to peer at you with that typical all-knowing, dreamy look of hers that seemed to suggest she knew better.

As if there’s anything going on between Theo and me. I barely know the guy…or almost barely know him…kind of know him?

Shaking the disorganized thoughts from your head, you turned to the girls to continue the conversation that had abruptly stopped at the tavern. A train ride filled with trolley sweets, gossip, and uncontrollable laughter soon led to your arrival at Hogwarts, just in time for the evening meal.

Retiring to your room shortly after dinner, you found that your housemates’ beds were empty. You guess that they were likely meandering around the grounds before curfew. You savored the silence and stillness of the room. However, all too soon, it was interrupted by an odd sort of sound.

Clink.

At first you ignored it, thinking something had just shifted in your room.

Clink…Clink.

This time, your eyes swept across the room, searching for whatever could be causing that sound. It didn’t sound like a water drip, someone in heels, or even coins moving around in a coin purse.

Clinkclinkclinkclink!

As the sound increased in volume and frequency, you realized it was coming from the window of all places, even though you were elevated relatively high in the tower containing your bedchamber. That is to say, no person could have been outside your room without the aid of a broom or the flying charm. You cursed under your breathe that the window was glazed, meaning you couldn’t see what lay on the other side. Undergoing a momentary crisis of whether you should open the window, you decided in a split-second to just open it and hope for the best. However, you made sure to grab your wand.

Can’t be too careful now, can we, Y/n?

Your hand grasped at the brass handle, quickly swinging the frame open. An autumnal evening gust of wind greeted you, along with something else.

What. The fuck.

Perching on your windowsill, was a quaint tawny owl peering at you rather oddly. The bird cocked its brown and white feathered head as you did the same.

What the devil is a bloody owl doing up here?

“I don’t suppose you intended to come up here, did you?” Looking at the owl, you noticed it was clutching something in its claws, a small parcel of sorts. “Is that for me?”

As if answering, the owl flew past you and landed on your desk. Its head cocked once more as if wondering whether you were going to join it or not. Realizing you were standing dumbly in front of the window and letting all the warm air out, you shut it. You did not lock it, however, anticipating that your feathered friend would be departing shortly.

You joined the owl at your desk, sitting in your chair. You were now eye level with the mysterious bird, its dark eyes gazing into your own.

“May I?” you inquired, gesturing towards the little package in its clutches. The fowl relented, gently releasing it onto the wood of your desk. Before allowing yourself to rip into the bundle, you pulled out a small cannister of crickets you kept in one of your desk drawers for when you visited your own owl in the aviary. Lightly placing it in front of the owl, you allowed it to treat itself while opening the unknown gift.

Inside, you found a small package of caramel creams, just like those you had gifted to Mr. Flume a few short hours ago.

“How…?” You looked to the bird who was still pleasing itself with your offering of crickets.

You couldn’t begin to wonder at who would have known to gift you that particular candy, who would have noticed your quick interaction among the thick throng of students that had filled Honeydukes earlier. No one had stood out to you in the little time you had spent in the candy store, wholly preoccupied with your candy exchange.

Where could they have even bought it from? It’s not like Mr. Flume even stocks this specific sweet, no matter how much I may beg the man to.

“You must have been flying for ages to bring these to me, I reckon.”

“Hoot.”

Laughing at the short, clipped response of the owl, your eyes noticed a small piece of parchment paper within the parcel. Grasping and opening it quickly, your eyes were met with the same script you had seen on the previous note that had accompanied the moly bouquet currently residing on your nightstand. Once more, the note was succinct and saccharine.

Y/n,

Sweets for you, sweetheart.

Yours,

Teddy

“Seems your owner fancies me,” you said to the owl as you carefully refolded the note. “I don’t suppose you would be able to give me a clue as to who they are?”

“Hoot.”

Sighing, you replied, “Alright, alright. I won’t badger you for answers.” You rose from your chair, intending to allow the plumed messenger to return to the aviary. The bird flew from its perch on your desk to your shoulder, its head gently rubbing against your cheek. You smiled at the little show of affection. Once more, you opened your window, allowing your avian visitor to rejoin the skies. Looking back at the caramel creams and clutching the note to your chest, a warm feeling began to leak out of your heart. Whoever your admirer was, he was rather…sweet.

A few caramel creams later, you were sprawled on your bed and surrounded by your friends as you recounted the entire rendezvous with the tawny owl. You shared the sweets among your friends, but you kept the contents of the note to yourself. Your friends had already seen the first note and none of them had recognized the handwriting. There was no harm done, really.

Besides, you thought, it’s kind of nice to keep something between just me and this elusive ‘Teddy.’

“You didn’t recognize the owl, did you?” asked Ginny. “Godric knows everybody can tell when I’ve sent an owl. That bloody bird, Errol, is hard to miss.” She gives you a vexed look that makes you chuckle.

“No, it looked like any other owl I’d have seen in the aviary. Anyway, there are hundreds of owls here, they’re not exactly easy to differentiate.”

“Well,” Padma says, “at the very least, we know that your little admirer is a third year or older.”

Hannah’s face shows her confusion, “How do you figure?”

“They were in Honeydukes, weren’t they?” Padma shrugs, “Whoever he is, he has to be, at minimum, thirteen years old to go to Hogsmeade.”  

Groaning, you flop back onto your bed, hands covering your face in dismay. “Blimey, I hadn’t even considered it might be someone younger than me. What if it is a third year? Fucking hell, I’ll never be able to live it down.”

Moving your hands from your face, Hermione smiles gently at you. “If it is a third year, which I seriously doubt, you’ll be gentle in letting them down. No big deal.”

“I’d be a laughingstock, ‘Mione,” you say grumpily.

“No, you won’t, Y/n,” replies Hannah. “Besides, it’s just the six of us that knows, right?”

“About that…” Ginny looks at you sheepishly. “I may or may not have possibly, accidentally let it slip when I was perhaps…potentially talking with Lavender…”

The redhead’s confession gets you to shoot up quickly from your horizontal position. “You did what?” You toss at a pillow at her, which, with her incredible athleticism, she easily intercepts. You frown. “Lavender is possibly the worst gossip I’ve ever met. I’d be surprised if Filch didn’t know about it.”

“It was an accident, promise!” Ginny exclaims, “Lavender asked if you were seeing anybody—I think she’s interested in Lee Jordan—so, I suppose she was trying to determine whether or not you were—”

“Ginny.”

“…Yes, Y/n?”

“I’m going to give you until the count of three.”

“Count of three—what for?”

“One.”

“Oh please, Y/n. I didn’t mean to—”

“Two.”

“For the love of Merlin—”

“Three.” At your last count, you sprint at the girl who starts to run from you as you chase her with your wand. She sharts to shriek with laughter, dashing as far from your incurrent wrath as possible.

“You’re going to get it, Weasley!”

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.

You pulled the covers over your head, groaning, before resolving to go down to breakfast in the Great Hall. Your little quandary wasn’t going to be solved anytime soon, and your stomach shouldn’t suffer for it.

Joining your friends in the Great Hall, Ginny noticed you were a little quieter than normal. “You alright there, Y/n?” Breaking your reverie, you smiled at the red-headed Weasley before stuffing a piece of jam-smothered toast into your mouth.

Your muffled and somewhat undiscernible reply of “’M all good, thanks” was met with a laugh from Ginny and a scolding from Hermione to slow down while eating.

“I’ve got to hurry, ‘Mione,” you said between bites, “otherwise I’ll be late for the Hogsmeade trip. Need to clear my mind for a bit.” Hermione watched in horror at the speed with which you downed the toast, practically throwing a napkin at you when she noticed the jam lingering in the corners of your mouth. You grinned sheepishly at her.

“Still no clue then, I reckon?” Padma asked. You just shook your head, turning to dive into some fried eggs. While you had hoped to be discreet about the whole situation, you had wanted your friends’ opinions, as well as their help, in searching for your secret admirer. However, you had no such luck and your friends were just as clueless.

“It’s kind of dreamy, don’t you think? The whole not-knowing part and the expectation of another clue or a gift. To think someone in this room sent you those lovely flowers!” Hannah seemed more excited about it than you did.

“Oh, come off it. We all know it’s killing Y/n not to know—I’ll bet you she was the kid who would shake her presents under the Christmas tree to try and figure out what they were. Maybe even peer through a hole in the wrapping paper to sneak a peek, eh?” Ginny joked, nudging your arm.

The glare you sent Ginny let her know she had hit the nail on the head.

“Can I see the note again?” asked Luna. Pulling it from your pocket, you handed it to the waifish girl, with Padma peering over her shoulder. As she handed it back, you noticed the certain degree of softness the parchment now had, caused by the countless folding, unfolding, and gentle tracing of the letters by your fingertips. You looked at it once more before tucking it back in.

“Well,” you said, rising from your seated position, “enough of that. I’ve got a date with fizzing whizzbees at Honeydukes, and I will not let you lot make me late!” Laughing, the five girls stood up to join you and began to make their way out of the Great Hall.

Upon arriving in Hogsmeade, the six of you split up to run various errands or meet other friends. Luna joined you on the trip to Honeydukes, desiring to pick up some pepper imps, which she believed would ward off nargles from settling in her hair. You just nodded at your endearing, albeit strange friend. Nodding was oftentimes the best thing to do when Luna said something particularly…off. Upon entering the candy store, you separated from the blond Ravenclaw to fulfill your particular errand.   

“Mr. Flume!” You called out to the elderly proprietor of Honeydukes. He smiled once he placed your voice. Your acquaintance with Ambrosius Flume and his wife had begun in your third year, on your very first trip to Hogsmeade. Over the years, you’d heard countless stories about the store and its fantastical sweet treats. As such, when you were finally of age, you had been extremely excited to finally visit. Upon entry, in your typical coordinated fashion, you had managed to slip on and fall due to the bat’s blood soup Neville Longbottom had managed to spill all over the checkered floor. Spotting the tears quickly forming in your eyes, courtesy of your pain and embarrassment, Mrs. Flume had helped you off the floor and fixed you a cup of hot chocolate while you amused her husband with various accounts of muggle delicacies and candies. Since then, you had made it a habit to bring him a muggle candy of some sort to try, proving that even though muggle treats had no real magic in them, they could still be magical. In turn, he would trade one of his newest treats for you to try.

Finally meeting through the frenzied crowd of Honeydukes, Mr. Flume clasped one of your hands in both of his, giving it a hearty squeeze. “How have you been, dearie? Brought me something today, did you?”

You laughed at his eagerness. “You only want me for my muggle sweets, don’t’ you? How incorrigible.”

The two of you giggled like children before you pulled out the promised sweet. This time, you had brought him a small bag of Goetze’s caramel creams, also known as bullseyes. As silly as it might seem, the candies were close to your heart, something you had enjoyed with your mother as a child, eating away at the chewy caramel outside and the sweet cream filling.

“They’re my absolute favorite, you know. And after four years of exchanging candies with you, I insist you stock them just for me. Waiting for packages from my mum to get my fix is simply too difficult.”

Mr. Flume laughed at your dramatics before pocketing the sweets. “You know how much I enjoy these little exchanges with you, poppet. I’ve got something new for you to try, straight from my little lady’s oven.” Reaching into the pocket of his worn apron, he pulled out a pastry of some sort wrapped in brown paper. “Mrs. Flume calls ‘em ‘Cheering Cherry Tarts,’ ‘spose to boost your spirit for a few hours if you can imagine that. Hope you like it.” With that, he left with an affectionate pat on your arm before going to assist some of the other customers.

Taking one bite of the pastry, you had to resist the urge to moan at how delicious it was.

If you knew one thing about Mrs. Flume, it was that the woman could cook.

Scarfing down the tart, you grabbed a box of toffees and glacial snowflakes to bring back with you. After checking out, you made your way to The Three Broomsticks where you had agreed to meet to meet up with your friends after you completed your errands.

You quickly spotted your friends within the tavern. Padma was sporting several shopping bags from Gladrags Wizardwear, while Ginny and Hannah had popped into Zonko’s to pick up some stink pellets intended for the Gryffindor first-years. Ginny was more than happy to continue the pranking tradition her older brothers had begun at Hogwarts, and Hannah was always game for a good laugh. Hermione sat quietly at the table twirling one of her new quills. At the sight you let out a small chuckle. Hermione was many things, but she was not someone to pass up on purchasing new stationary. She was practically besotted whenever she saw a fine quill.

Joining the gaggle of girls, you all went over your purchases, ordering some treats and drinks, gossiping about various happenings at Hogwarts, and just enjoying the general splendor of The Three Broomsticks and its ambience. As much as you enjoyed your classes, moments like these were what you would miss most upon your graduation in the spring. It brought a little twinge to your heart, the bittersweet thought of leaving, but you were excited for the future and to see what your dearest friends would go on to do.

Your reminiscing and get-together, however, was interrupted by increasingly loud voices from a corner table. Imagining it to be some drunkards, you turned, only to see Nott and Malfoy arguing over something that had the two Slytherins particularly heated. While you had no idea what had started their spat, it was easy to tell that Malfoy had somehow provoked Nott who became increasingly incensed. Towering over the blonde, Nott continued to spew verbal fire at him and despite his best effort to hide it, you could tell that Malfoy was intimidated.

“Chi mi piace non sono affari tuoi, Malfoy. Restane fuori!” While you didn’t understand the Italian rapidly leaving Nott’s mouth, you could tell how angry he was. As he was about to continue his verbal assault, he caught your eyes and likely the look of concern on your face. His face relaxed and his next words seemed to slip his mind. Sparing one more withering glance at Malfoy, he quickly stormed out of the tavern and conversation slowly recommenced.

“Wonder what started that little fight,” wondered Padma, picking up her glass of butterbeer.

Turning back, you shrugged, “No idea.”

The six of you left The Three Broomsticks shortly after, realizing that you would have to return to Hogwarts soon. You linked your arm with Ginny as she chatted about her intended strategies for the upcoming Quidditch season. Walking towards the train station, you noticed Nott in the distance, trekking in the opposite direction of the Hogwarts Express.

Didn’t he know that the train would be leaving soon?

Removing your arm from Ginny’s, you excused yourself. “I’ll meet you guys on the train, alright? Save me a seat.” With that, you quickly followed the retreating Slytherin.

“Don’t be late, Y/n! You can’t be losing house points this early in the year!” yelled Hermione.

When you finally caught up to Nott, he was sitting on a bench located on the path that headed towards the Shrieking Shack. He was staring into the distance, those brooding eyes of his lost in thought. Hearing the crunch of autumn leaves beneath your feet, his head swiveled towards your approaching figure. He stood in surprise before sitting again. You sat down beside him.  

Bumping his shoulder with your own, you asked, “Something on your mind, Nott? You seem a little…out of it.”

At the sound of your voice, he left out a long sigh. “No—nothing. ‘M fine.” The clipped response made you raise a brow at him. The guy was not very good at lying, even if he was a Slytherin. “And…it’s Theo. Or, I mean, you can call me Theo.” Those blue eyes returned to you, accompanied by the faintest of smiles.

“Alright then, Theo. What’s got your wand in a knot…Or should I say N-o-t-t?” You let out a small laugh, winking at him as he gave you a look somewhere between horrified and disgusted.

“I don’t even want to dignify that with a response.”

“It was right there! I had to.”

“You definitely did not.”

“Don’t you mean…did N-o-t-t?”

“Alright, that’s enough.”  He paused, before continuing, “Do you think it’s too late to request a new Potions partner? I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it through the year at this rate.”

You gasped in mock horror, lightly knocking him on the arm, “Oh please Theo, I’m a peach. You adore me.” You didn’t notice how Theo stiffened at your retort, your eyes turning to the autumn trees lining the path.

“That was quite a scene in there, you and Draco. Fighting over anything in particular?”

Theo let out a huff of hot air through his nose, “No…it’s just—Malfoy’s a fucking prat.”

A bark of laughter left you at his response. “Could have told you that in first year, Theo. Would have saved you a lot of trouble.” At that, he laughed, and you were happy to see a grin finally grace his normally stoic face.

“Now c’mon,” you said standing, “we’ve got to get going if we don’t want to miss the train. Godric knows how much trouble I’ll be in with my housemates if we don’t make it in time.”

Theo stood and joined you in walking back towards the platform, a comfortable silence falling over you two. He seemed to have snapped out of whatever funk had clouded his mind, as he was soon making small talk and a few jokes as you got closer.

Just before you boarded the train, Theo grasped your elbow gently to turn you towards him. He was at your eye level then, as you had stepped onto the first step of the express. You looked at him with questioning eyes. “Sorry, um—just wanted to say thanks.” At your furrowed brow he added, “for checking on me, I mean.”

You smiled at him. “Course. After all, what are Potions partners for?” At that, he returned your smile, his bright blue eyes crinkling a little at the edges.

Huh. Cute.

“So…I hear you’ve got yourself a bit of an admirer, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned towards Theo to find a smirk resting smugly on his face. “Merlin, not you too, Theo. I swear it’s impossible to go ten minutes without someone mentioning it.”

Theo laughed at your response and the obvious annoyance in your expression. “Bit of a touchy subject?”

You sighed. “Sorry. It’s just—bloody hell, I’ve got loads of people coming up to me trying to chat about it and well, it’s a bit much.”

The tall Slytherin nodded as he scanned his Potions textbook, looking for the next set of directions for the Wolfsbane potion you were currently brewing. “I didn’t mean to pry, really—”

“No, no it’s all right. I’m just a bit on edge recently.” You and Theo both reached for the crushed moonstone, hands bumping clumsily into each other. “Sorry, ‘m all over the place today.”

Theo gave you a gentle smile before grasping the vial, gingerly adding it before meeting your eyes with his own. “S’all right. Besides, we both know it’s better if I handle things, considering I’m the better Potions student any—ow!” Theo rubbed his arm where you had lightly smacked him.

“Just because you beat me by one whole point on the last test doesn’t mean—”

“It means I am better than—Salazar, woman!” This time Theo rubbed his other arm which you may or may not have hit. “You’ve got to come up with a better comeback than physical assault. I could report you to Slughorn, you know.”

“Oh please, you’d never snitch on me, Theo. We’re potions partners after all—you’re stuck with me.”

A wide grin made its way onto Theo’s face, along with the faintest blush that he desperately hoped you couldn’t see in the dim lighting of the classroom. “Yeah, ‘spose I am.” Realizing he was looking at you in a bit of a daze, he cleared his throat. “I forgot to mention, Pucey’s set a last-minute quidditch practice for this afternoon. I know we’re meant to work on the project for anti-venoms, but is there any chance we could push it until later?”

“Tsk, tsk, Theodore. Choosing quidditch over Potions, eh? And you call yourself the best Potions student?” you teased. Theo let out a sharp laugh, dropping three murtlap tentacles into the cauldron bubbling before you. “That works for me, actually. Where did you want to meet?”

“I can catch up with you on the quidditch pitch. We can head over to the library from there.” Stirring the concoction clockwise, Theo looked at you from the corner of his eye, “Thanks for being flexible.”

“’Course. It’s what you would expect from the best Potions student, right?”

“Alright, pipe down.”

“You’re no fun, Theo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now hand me the wolfsbane leaves.”

“Only if you admit I’m the better Potions student.”

“Y/n.”

“…Here you go.”

Tugging at the sleeves of your sweater, you made your way towards the quidditch pitch, just as the sun was starting to set over the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. The practice had evidently just ended as players began to descend from the sky at the sound of Captain Adrian Pucey’s dismissal. Walking over, you saw Theo dismounting from his broom alongside Enzo. Upon spotting you, the pair walked over to greet you.

“Rough practice, huh?” The boys before you were out of breath, chests heaving with obvious exhaustion.

Enzo gave you a look, “You’ve no idea.” Beside him, Theo nodded in agreement.

“Pucey’s got his tail in a twist about the game this weekend against Gryffindor,” Theo said. “We can’t catch a break.” Theo grabbed the end of his practice jersey to wipe at the sweat on his brow, revealing a lean, toned abdomen. His tongue swiped quickly at his pink lips as he continued to breathe heavily. As he let go of his jersey, one of his hands went to run through his unruly curls and you couldn’t help but stare at the more than pleasant image before you.

Fucking hell…Godric save me.

As if sensing your train of thought, Enzo smirked, mirth dancing in his eyes.

The sound of Theo’s Italian accent broke your reverie. “I’ve got to hit the showers, so I’ll be ten minutes or so. You alright with waiting?”

Clutching your Potions textbook to your chest, you nodded, giving Enzo’s look of obvious amusement a glare. “’M fine. Go ahead.”

Theo flashed that wide grin of his that you were becoming fond of before trotting off to join the other players in the locker rooms. By now, Enzo’s grin had become a full-on beam.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Enzo—well, don’t think it.”

The Slytherin raised his hands in mock confusion. “What could you possibly mean, Y/n? I was just wondering—”

“Enzo, don’t make me hit you with this book.”

“Jeez, I guess Theo wasn’t lying when he said you were violent.”

“Hey!”

Hours later in the library, you swore words were beginning to dance off the pages of the endless tomes you and Theo had been rummaging through for your upcoming project. Beside you, Theo seemed to feel the same exhaustion, groaning as his forehead dropped onto one of the thick volumes.

Grasping your quill, you gently brushed the feather by Theo’s ear to grasp his attention. Still faceplanted in a book, the tired boy simply turned his head towards you rather than sitting upright.

“I reckon we call it a night, yeah?” Theo’s curls shook as he nodded his head, eyes beginning to droop in exhaustion. “You’ve probably got to be up early for the game tomorrow too.” Your Potions partner glared at you for the reminder before finally sitting up.

You began to tidy up the sprawled-out texts before Theo broke the quiet resting over the library. “You going?”

Turning to look at him, you paused, “Going to what?”

Theo laughed softly, “The game, Y/n.”

“Oh.” You grinned sheepishly, “I don’t know. Hadn’t decided yet.”

Theo hummed at your response. Moving sluggishly, he began to help you pack up.

“Well…you should go. It’s supposed to be a good one.” You met Theo’s eyes that were already peering into yours.  

“You want me to go, huh? To show off or something?”

Theo laughed at you, gently flicking one of your hands reaching for a stray quill. “Or something.”

You smiled, “Well, if you want me there, I’m there.”

Having finished packing up, Theo stood in front of you and mirrored your grin. “Well, I do…want you there, that is.”

Walking out of the library together, you gently bumped the taller boy’s shoulder. “Then, I’m there.”

To your right, your dearest friend, Hermione Granger, quickly jumped to your defense. “It’s not that simple, Luna. There are a number of perfectly good reasons why someone does or does not, in Y/n’s case, date!”

Hermione seemed absolutely content with her answer, patting you gently on the back with a kind smile. Her sympathy made you groan before you dropped your head into your hands. “For the love of Merlin, can we please discuss something—”

Ginny Weasley plopped down on your right, eager to give her two cents on the matter of your abysmal dating record. “I mean, you’ve had people interested in you, right? None of them have piqued your fancy? What’s his face—um…Lee Jordan! He asked you out a few months ago, right? What about him?”

“What about Cormac?” asked Hannah Bones. “I know he’s a bit of a tosser, but he’s not bad to look at. I sit next to him in Transfiguration, I could introduce you!”

Increasingly irritated with the course of the conversation, you piped up. “Thank you, Hannah, but I’ve got no interest in—”

Ginny interrupted, “What about one of my brothers? They’re bloody idiots, no doubt, but I’m sure I could put in a good word. What’s your type? Hmm—you into the whole cheeky thing Fred and George have going on—”

“Enough!” The four girls stared at you and your face that could easily rival a tomato with its present scarlet hue. A silence washed over the nearby tables in the Great Hall. A few odd looks were thrown at you from the surrounding students before their conversations recommenced. “As much as I appreciate your intense interest in my lack of relationships, I don’t feel like fleshing it out over cinnamon rolls and sausage links at 8:00 a.m. in the morning, if you lot don’t mind.”

The girls quickly began to apologize before you hushed them. “It’s totally fine, seriously, I just don’t want to get into it. We’re all good. Promise.”

As if sensing that you weren’t entirely ‘good,’ Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione beat her to it. “Y/n and I have got to get going if we’re going to make it to Potions. We’ll see you guys later, alright?” You could have snogged the life out of Hermione for the offered escape route. You and Hermione both knew you had another thirty minutes before your first class, but what the three girls didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. After swiftly packing up her things, Hermione linked her arm with yours, whisking you away from the other three.

Even though your next class was in the dungeons, Hermione steered you towards an unfamiliar corridor, one she had likely found on the vast number of adventures she, Harry, and Ron had found themselves in over the years. Arms still intertwined; she sat you both on a bench. After sitting in a few moments of silence, you squeezed her arm and spoke, “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

Returning your squeeze, she smiled. “I figured you could use a break from that inquisitive lot. They can be a bit much, altogether at once. Merlin knows how they’ll react when I tell them about Ron and me.” The two of you looked at each other in stunned silence before bursting into laughter. Hermione laughed at the imaginary image of shock and disbelief she imagined would appear on Ginny’s face. You laughed, however, at the thought that anyone could be unaware to the obvious affection shared between the couple. You doubted that Filch, perhaps the most oblivious man to ever inhabit Hogwarts, couldn’t see the feelings that had steadily been growing between Hermione and Ron since their first year. Feelings you had yet to experience at Hogwarts, despite your desperate desire to.

As if sensing your thoughts, Hermione peered into your face before softly speaking, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I won’t push you or anything, but I just want you to know you have an ear if you want one.”

Considering her words, you peered at the ceiling that seemed miles away. Of all the people you knew at Hogwarts, Hermione might have been the best to unburden yourself to.

You turned to look at her before speaking. “Well, it’s like this. Take Lee Jordan for example—when he asked me out, he found me after Defense Against the Dark Arts and just said, ‘Want to go out sometime, L/N?’ And that’s it! I mean, it took him all of four seconds to ask—and I don’t know…I asked him why he wanted to go out with me—which let me tell you he gave me quite a funny look because of my question—before he said, ‘Well, you’re fit and nice.’    

Hermione laughed at Lee’s simplistic answer before you continued. “Don’t get me wrong, it was a fine answer, and I appreciated the ‘fit’ part especially,” you said, winking at Hermione, “But that was the whole exchange. No real effort, no deep interest in me. It was simple.”

Hermione smiled at you, “But you don’t want simple, do you?”

You shrugged. “I guess not? Believe me, I don’t want a live performance where the man of my dreams serenades me with a homemade song listing my manifold of attractions.” This time you joined Hermione in her laughter. “I’d rather die on the spot, honestly, than endure that, but the point is I don’t want to be asked out just to be asked out. I want someone who’s thought about it, someone who’s noticed the little things about me, and lets me know that he has noticed them. I want to be wooed, goddammit!”

Hermione pealed in laughter for a solid minute before she managed to catch her breath. Smiling, she replied, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be ‘wooed’, Y/n. Godric knows Ron could stand to do a bit more ‘wooing’ when it comes to us.”

Turning your body fully to Hermione, you took her hands into yours, earnestly. “You don’t think I’m asking for too much? Being too high maintenance? I mean, I suppose we are young and still learning after all and—”

“Y/n, no. There is nothing wrong with wanting to know if someone truly likes you and wanting them to show it.” She squeezed your hands in assurance.

“Are you positively sure, because honestly—”

“I am absolutely sure, Y/n.”

“One hundred percent sure?”

“What do you think absolute means, Y/n?”

“…Point taken, ‘Mione.”

“Now then,” she said, standing and dragging you along with her, “we really must head off to Potions if we don’t want to be late.”

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