#theodorenott

darcelle vane began her sixth year at hogwarts believing she already knew everyone worth knowing.

at least, that's what she thought. then there was theodore nott.

quiet, observant, and impossible to read, he had always existed somewhere at the edge of her life. close enough to recognise. far enough to ignore.

but as war crept closer, loyalties blurred, and the future became increasingly uncertain, ignoring each other was no longer an option.

some stories begin with love.

this one begins with finally noticing someone who had been there all along.

link to the first chapter !

—ACCURATE SLYTHERIN BOYS IMAGINES

—slytherin boys x gn!reader

series:

mattheo riddle, lorenzo berkshire, draco malfoy, blaise zabini

you both had broken up due to complications, theodore has legilemency and reader doesnt know,, and reader cant help but feel soft for him still

tw: swearing, ts is long, angsty but happy ending(?), poorly translated italian

THEODORE NOTT

It hurts every time I draw a breath. It pains me to move even an inch directed at him. And I've never been more quiet than I've always been. Is it meant to be like this? Him there, and me across the room. A grim line appears from my mouth as I play with the loose fabric of the quilt wrapped around me—ironically a gift from him. I’m suddenly in my own head. A common habit I’ve picked up more often than I used to. I hear the fire crackle, putting me back to my senses. I finally look at him, his eyes bloodshot; an evident proof of him crying today.

Rain hammered against the windows of the Room of Requirement while dozens of students moved to music loud enough to make the stone walls vibrate.

The end-of-the-year party had descended into complete chaos a few hours ago, and it was nowhere near over. Students were dancing on long tables; some Slytherin had sent green sparks dancing across the ceiling, which exploded like fireworks every now and then, bathing the room in strobe-like flashes. A group of seventh-years held onto each other, singing completely out of tune along to a song.

All in all, it was the usual atmosphere for an end-of-the-year party.

Lottie stood at one end of the room next to Lorenzo Berkshire, leaning against a wall with a half-empty glass of Firewhisky in her hand; something she rarely drank. The liquid burned her throat with every sip and had already induced a hazy, pleasant buzz an hour ago.

"You’ve been glaring at Daphne Greengrass for ten minutes," Lorenzo informed her.

"I always glare at Daphne Greengrass."

"Fair. And you’re terrifying while you do it," he muttered into his drink, though he couldn't hide a small smirk.

"Thank you." A chuckle escaped his throat, and Lottie smiled.

Across the room, Draco looked deeply exhausted, while Pansy was arguing with Blaise about the extent to which it was immoral for a Slytherin to fancy a Gryffindor.

"She is literally one of the most beautiful girls in this castle."

"That is treason," Pansy grumbled.

"Very beautiful treason."

Theo sat sprawled across one of the dark green sofas nearby with a cigarette between his fingers and a girl balanced carelessly against his side. Not unusual in the least. Nothing about Theo Nott and random girls at parties had ever been unusual.

Lottie looked away before she could accidentally be caught staring. Unfortunately, Lorenzo noticed anyway. A mischievous smile stole onto his lips.

"You know," he said casually, "you and Theo are weird."

"I’m not weird," Lottie countered firmly, but he wasn't even listening to her.

"You insult each other like a divorced couple," he stated simply.

"That’s because he’s irritating."

"Mhm."

"And because he can’t stand that I’m better than him in class."

"Mhm."

Lottie narrowed her eyes slightly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." But it absolutely meant something.

Before Lottie could get a chance to question Lorenzo further, however, he spotted someone in the crowd and dove in without another word. He left her standing alone against the bare wall, and Lottie sighed, "Traitor." Lorenzo had always had the attention span of a Golden Retriever.

She drained the rest of her Firewhisky and headed toward the drinks table through the crowded room.

The second she reached for a bottle—

Another hand caught it first. Theo. Of course.

Lottie looked up slowly.

Theo was bracing one hand on the table, the cigarette still between his lips, gripping the neck of the bottle with his other hand, his white shirt unbuttoned further than necessary.

"You’re in my way, Nott," Lottie grumbled unhappily. His smirk made her roll her eyes.

"You’re the one who walked up to me, Blackthorn."

"I wanted that bottle."

"I didn't know these bottles belonged to you." Annoying idiot.

Lottie sighed and rolled her eyes.

Theo unscrewed the bottle and reached for her glass. He tilted it, and amber liquid splashed carelessly over the rim. "Oh shit," he muttered.

Lottie’s fingers were sticky; cold whisky slowly ran down them.

Without thinking much about it, Lottie lifted her hand and slowly licked the whisky from her fingers. Theo froze. Not visibly enough for most people to notice, but enough. Something shifted behind his eyes instantly.

Lottie registered it; she noticed him taking a deep drag from his cigarette. "You look disturbed," she said dryly.

Theo exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. "I’m reconsidering whether speaking to you tonight was a mistake."

"That realization took you so long?" she huffed.

"Yeah, it’s tragic, honestly."

Lottie brought her glass to her lips. Theo’s gaze dropped to her mouth for a second. Then immediately back to her eyes.

"You’re staring," she said.

"You’re imagining things."

"Am I though?"

Theo tilted his head slightly.

"You’re insufferable when you’ve been drinking, Blackthorn. Tell me, how on earth do you manage that?"

"And you’re always insufferable, Nott."

For one dangerous second, they just looked at each other. The noise of the party blurred strangely around them. Somewhere, Lorenzo shouted something. It was too loud, too warm, and Theo was too close. Then he smiled faintly, and she raised her eyebrows.

"There’s that expression," he said.

"What expression?"

"The one you get right before you start a fight and insult me for whatever."

"I don’t start fights."

Theo laughed quietly. Actually laughed.

"You absolutely do."

"Oh please," she scoffed. "You provoke people for fun."

"Mostly just you," he said quite calmly.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she muttered, annoyed.

Merlin. He was insufferable. Lottie shoved past him toward the exit.

"Find another person to annoy, Nott."

Behind her, she heard him laugh once under his breath. Which somehow irritated her even more.

The corridor outside of the Room of Requirement was much quieter, even though distant music still echoed even here. Lottie walked quickly down the hallway. Footsteps followed almost immediately. Obviously. Theo Nott could never leave her alone once he started to annoy her.

"Are you stalking me now?" she called over her shoulder.

"You’d love that, wouldn’t you?"

She spun around sharply. Theo stopped a few feet away. He had left his cigarette somewhere by the drinks table or on the way out. He was looking entirely too calm for someone so deeply aggravating.

"What is your problem tonight?" Lottie sounded frustrated and angry, and she was.

"My problem?"

"Yes, your problem, Nott."

Theo stared at her for a second before laughing softly again. He always laughed when he was debating or arguing with her; it drove her absolutely insane, damn it. That lazy, arrogant laugh she wanted nothing more than to hex off his face.

"You’re the one who stormed out of the party dramatically, Blackthorn."

"I walked away from an irritating conversation."

"You mean from losing an argument?"

"There was no argument." Lottie glared at him.

Theo still looked completely relaxed. "You know," he said lightly, "most people eventually get tired of fighting with me."

"That’s because most people lack resilience and pride."

"Oh, so you won’t admit that you enjoy it?"

"I mostly enjoy winning," Lottie hissed, crossing her arms.

"And yet, there is no clear winner between the two of us, is there, Blackthorn? Don't we both enjoy arguing with each other?"

The way he said it, with that deep, dangerous undertone, made heat crawl unpleasantly up Lottie’s spine. She crossed her arms tighter.

"You’re drunk," she stated.

"So are you."

"At least I’m still coherent." But was she really? She chose to believe she was.

Theo stepped closer. Not close enough to touch her, but close enough for her to feel him. The heat radiating from his body, the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, the scent of whisky and cigarette smoke.

"You’ve been glaring at me all night," he claimed then.

"I have absolutely not," Lottie countered.

"You absolutely have."

"You’re delusional."

"You looked genuinely furious when that girl sat on my lap."

Lottie barked out a disbelieving laugh. "Oh Merlin, you actually think this is about jealousy?"

Theo shrugged lazily. "I think you’re very bad at pretending you don't care about what I do."

"I don’t care who you hook up with, Nott."

"Sure."

"I don’t."

"Yeah, sure. But then tell me, Charlotte, why are you sounding so offended?"

"Because you are exhausting and annoying and you drive me insane!"

Theo smirked. Lottie hated how badly she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

"You really think everyone wants you," she said, incredulous.

"Most people do."

"You are insufferable."

"And you’re still standing here and talking to me instead of walking away."

Suddenly, the hallway felt too cramped as Theo took another step toward her. It was simply too warm, but the heat spreading through her body wasn't something that could be fixed by cooler temperatures.

"Do you know what I think?" he asked softly.

Lottie sighed, "I’m sure you’re dying to tell me."

"I think you like standing here and arguing with me instead of going to your dormitory alone."

She laughed once, "Oh please."

"I think," Theo continued calmly, "you like the attention I give you."

"Oh, that is rich coming from you."

"It’s true though."

"You’re unbelievable."

"And you are avoiding the point."

"There is no point, because you are talking bullshit."

Theo came even closer, and now his arm brushed hers, but she didn't step back. Lottie inhaled his scent of whisky and cigarette smoke once more. It made her head feel strangely light.

"You’re angry," Theo murmured.

"I’m always angry around you."

"Yeah, but there’s something else too."

Something about the way he said it made her stomach twist unexpectedly. Lottie looked away first. A mistake. Theo had noticed how her eyes had traveled from his eyes to his mouth before she looked away.

"Do you know what your problem is, Blackthorn?" She looked back up at him sharply when he said that. "What?"

"You act like you hate me—"

"I do hate you."

Theo moved before she fully processed it. One second he was standing there, the next his hand caught her wrist and pulled her hard against him. Lottie inhaled sharply. Theo’s eyes flicked down to her mouth, then back up again.

"But at the same time, you want me," he finished his sentence.

And then, before she could stop herself, she closed the final gap between them and met his lips with hers. She kissed him with all the anger she felt toward him. And he kissed back like he was angry as well, like he’d wanted to do it for far too long.

Lottie made a startled sound against his mouth before instinct immediately took over, and she buried her hands in his hair to pull him closer. Firewhisky burned hot in her bloodstream, and her heart hammered in her chest as his hand tightened sharply against her waist.

Weeks—

Months—

Years of irritation and tension suddenly crashed together all at once. It felt catastrophic.

Theo kissed like he argued: confident, relentless, devastatingly deliberate.

Lottie grabbed the front of his shirt with one hand instinctively, pulling him even closer.

Theo made a rough sound low in his throat. And somehow that only made everything worse. Or better. Possibly both.

He shoved her gently back against the stone wall. Lottie kissed him harder immediately out of spite. Theo laughed breathlessly against her mouth when they both caught their breath.

"I hate you," she whispered.

"Liar."

Chapter 1

The Annual Party

It was the day before we returned to Hogwarts for our fourth year. My parents were hosting their annual party—an exclusive gathering meant only for the elite. It was a tradition our families kept every year, one last night of celebration before we all left for another term at Hogwarts.

I was excited to see Lorenzo again. We hadn’t seen each other all summer—he’d spent the holidays staying with cousins at his aunt’s house far away, which meant we never had the chance to meet up.

Before we left for the holidays, though, we had shared a kiss behind the greenhouse. It was brief, sweet, innocent. But it meant so much to us. I remembered it as if it were yesterday, especially what he said after ‘I’ll make you mine when we return. I promise.’ And Merlin, I clung onto that promise all summer.

Today, I was finally going to see him again. Not only him but the other boys too. We’d finally be together again.

I was all dressed up, my hair done perfectly in a half up, half down do. I was wearing a navy blue elegant, long dress. Light, soft makeup on my beautiful features. I smiled and greeted the guests as they entered the ballroom. Until finally, one by one my boys started arriving.

I snuck away from my parents to hang with them. I noticed how much they’d grown over the summer. Most of them were taller now—towering over me.

Mattheo looked down at me and let out a little laugh, “Merlin beards, you haven’t grown one bit. Have you?” He teased. I simply rolled my eyes at him.

“Oh, shut it. You’re only taller by a few inches.” *I replied. Not amused at all—well, maybe a little. Theodore smirked and shrugged.*

“Still taller than you, love.” *he said. They kept on teasing me, but I barely paid attention. I was more focused on where Lorenzo was.

Until finally he was here, walking in with his parents. Dressed in a suit, hair perfectly styled. Gosh, he was more handsome than the last time I saw him, if that was even possible. He spotted us and—smirked? No grin. No smile that showed all his perfect teeth. A smirk. But I brushed it off and smiled as I waved him over, when he approached us he barely paid me any mind. Instead he looked over at the boys.

“Missed me?” *he said with a smirk. Still no smile. Some of the boys also noticed the subtle changes but no one commented on it.

“You wish.” Draco replied with that usual annoyed scowl on his face. Though we all knew deep down, he missed him.

I stayed quiet just smiling softly as I looked at him. He had turned fourteen over the holiday and it looked good on him. I was waiting for him to acknowledge me but when he never did, I spoke.

“Hey, enzo.” *I spoke. He glanced at me and gave me a look over before speaking.

“Hm. You still look the same,” He said, this time..no smirk, no smile. His eyes trailed over my body in a way they never have before. Before his eyes met mine again. “Pretty boring.” He added. My heart sank ‘boring’ is he kidding? He’s never spoken, or looked at me like that. With such indifference and coldness that I barely recognized.

He didn’t even seem sorry. He just walked off with Draco towards the drinks. While I stood there frozen, with my heart beating painfully in my chest. Blaise looked at me sympathetically and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t mind him. Dance with me?” He asked, offering me his hand. Trying to distract me. Make me feel better. Like he always is. My eyes ripped away from Lorenzo as I nodded and took his hand. He led me to the dance floor and we gracefully fell into an appropriate slow dance.

Later in the night, I was by the desert tables watching bitterly as Lorenzo guided some stupid blonde girl to the dance floor. Who even was she? Some Hufflepuff?

I huffed, losing my appetite and tossing my cupcake into the trash can. Why was he dancing with her? Why not me? Why was he a completely different person? I swallowed hard as I stormed off to the bathroom. Tears threatening to spill down my face. I looked into the mirror. ‘Boring’ what was so boring about me? He use to call me ‘beautiful’ ‘gorgeous’ but now boring is all I get?

After a few minutes of sulking and criticizing myself in the bathroom, I finally decided to head back out.

And oh boy… I should’ve stayed in that damn bathroom.

Across the room there he was, my Lorenzo, kissing that blonde girl. Hands tightly around her waist. One of her hands in his hair while the other was on his chest. The way he bought her body closer to his, pressing her against him. His lips moving passionately and slowly on hers as if they belong there. It made me sick.

I stood there. My eyes watering at the scene, I’ve never felt so…defeated, so betrayed, so envious. No one noticed me. Everyone was too busy dancing with their stupid fancy dresses and suits, too busy drinking expensive champagne, or gossiping about one and other. Everything kept going on around me, but I felt utterly frozen my eyes never leaving the scene from across the room. Not even after they pulled away.

I spun on my heels and left the ballroom to go to my room once me and Lorenzo locked eyes.

He promised me.

He said he loves me.

Not whoever she is.

Oh and I will sometimes also be adding a song that I want you to listen to while reading the chapter (it will be at the beginning of every chapter). So If u guys want me to release a chapter that shows the playlist I will do that!

Worth the Fizz

Theodore Nott

Pansy stood behind me with her wand in one hand and a section of my hair in the other, humming quietly to herself. The green hangings of our four‑poster in the Slytherin girls' dormitory framed the watery morning light that spilled in from the small, high window, making the dust motes look like tiny stars.

It was one of those soft, grey mornings where everything felt slightly muted, as if the castle hadn’t quite woken up yet. The faint chill of the stone floor seeped through my socks, grounding me in the here and now instead of letting my thoughts spiral straight to Theo.

I watched her in the mirror, wand moving with lazy confidence, like this was just another morning and not the one where I was trying very hard not to overthink a simple Hogsmeade date. My stomach had that restless, almost-queasy flutter that felt too much like nerves to blame on breakfast.

Pansy clicked her tongue behind me.

"Sit still, Y/N. Honestly, you'd think you'd never had your hair done before."

“I have,” I said, trying not to squirm, “just not by someone who treats my head like a practice dummy.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh that ruffled the hair at my crown, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

I tried not to laugh as another curl bounced against my cheek. "You're the one tugging my head around."

My voice came out a little breathless. It wasn’t just her tugging every time I thought of Theo waiting downstairs, my heart did this ridiculous skip that made it hard to sit still.

In the mirror on my trunk, I could see her smirk as she wound another section of my hair around her wand. Soft curls spiraled down my back, neater and shinier than I could ever have managed myself, even with a charm or two.

"I have to make you look worthy of Nott," she said lightly. "He's hopelessly in love with you, so we can't disappoint him."

“You say that like there’s a standard.” I tried for flippant, but the words stuck a little in my throat. Hopelessly in love. It sounded too big and too fragile all at once.

My stomach fluttered, even though we'd been dating for nearly a year. "He's not hopelessly in love with me."

Not that the thought hadn’t tangled itself around my heart more than once, usually late at night when the dorm was quiet and the only sound was the soft breathing of the girls around me. But saying it out loud made it feel real, and real was terrifying.

Pansy met my eyes in the mirror with a knowing look. "He is. And you are with him. So. Tilt your head."

"That sounds violent,” I muttered, but I couldn’t stop my lips from curving. In the mirror, I barely looked like the girl who’d stumbled into Slytherin first year with ink on her fingers and hair in a hopeless knot.

I did as she asked. She charmed the last curl, then stepped back and rested her hands on my shoulders.

"There. Perfect. Hogsmeade won't know what hit it."

I stared at my reflection, a little stunned. My hair framed my face in soft curls, making my eyes look brighter, my cheeks a touch more flushed, like I'd just come in from a broom ride over the lake.

"Pansy, this looks..." I searched for the word.

Like I could belong at his side without everyone wondering what on earth he was thinking.

"Gorgeous," she finished for me. "You're welcome. Now go before the boys start setting things on fire out of boredom."

“They’d only blame it on Weasley anyway,” I said, standing and smoothing imaginary wrinkles from my skirt. The familiar weight of my wand in my pocket was oddly reassuring. Magic I could do. Feelings were… another matter.

We grabbed our scarves and cloaks, green and silver gleaming in the low dormitory light, then headed out through the arched doorway and down the stone steps. The familiar feel of the Slytherin common room met us first: low laughter, the crackle of the fire in the green‑lit hearth, the murmur of voices over the rustle of parchment and the clink of ink bottles.

The light from the lake filtered through the high windows, casting everything in shifting green. It made faces look sharper, secrets easier to hide. There was a comfort in it, in knowing exactly where I fit in this room and an odd, nervous thrill because today, I wanted to fit next to him.

As we stepped into the room, I spotted them immediately.

I always did. No matter how crowded the common room was, my eyes found Theo first, like they’d been quietly trained to.

Theo was leaning with one shoulder against the back of a sofa, talking lazily with Mattheo and Blaise. His hair was slightly tousled, tie loose around his neck, the picture of casual arrogance he could never quite hide. Enzo and Draco were near the fire, arguing quietly about something that involved a lot of hand gestures and Draco's unimpressed drawl.

Theo looked up first.

For a heartbeat, I wondered if he’d even notice the difference. Then his gaze locked on mine and the entire room seemed to narrow to the space between us.

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. His eyes landed on me, slid slowly from my curls down to my shoes, then back up again. The lazy grin he'd been wearing vanished, replaced by something softer and far more dangerous.

Heat crept up my neck under his scrutiny. Say something, I urged myself. Anything that doesn’t make you sound like you’ve swallowed a toad.

"Well," Blaise said under his breath, noticing his friend's expression. "Someone's dead."

“Who this time?” Mattheo asked, sounding far too entertained for this early in the morning.

“You, if you keep talking,” Pansy muttered.

Theo pushed off the sofa and crossed the room to me, all lazy strides and that particular focus he only ever had when it was about me.

"You did something to your hair," he said quietly, stopping just in front of me. There was a hint of wonder in his voice.

“Observant,” I managed, hoping my voice didn’t betray just how fast my pulse was racing. Up close, he smelled faintly of smoke and something herbal from Potions, familiar and steady.

"Pansy did it," I replied, tucking a curl behind my ear. "You like it?"

The question came out more vulnerable than I’d intended. It wasn’t really about the hair and we both knew it.

Theo's gaze followed the movement of my hand. He reached up and gently caught a curl between his fingers, letting it bounce back.

"Like's not the word," he said. "You look..." He trailed off, cheeks going slightly pink, which only made my heart swell. "Beautiful."

The word settled over me like a cloak, warm and almost too heavy. Beautiful. From Theo Nott, who chose his words like they were spells he might have to live with.

Behind us, Mattheo groaned.

"Merlin's sake, Nott, spare us. It's too early for this."

“It’s never too early for tragedy,” Blaise said mildly. “And this is some of your best work, Theo.”

"You're just jealous," Pansy shot back, sweeping past to drop down on the sofa. "Come on, lovebirds. You'll miss the carriages."

Theo offered me his arm, and I slipped my hand through it, my fingers fitting neatly at his elbow. I could feel the warmth of him even through his robes.

The gesture was old-fashioned, almost princely, and yet with him it didn’t feel ridiculous. It just felt right, like my hand had been meant to rest there all along.

"Ready?" he asked, looking down at me.

"Always," I said.

The air outside the front doors of the castle was crisp, a bite of late autumn clinging to the grounds as we made our way across the lawns toward the gates where the Thestral‑drawn carriages waited. Our breath misted in front of us as we joined the line of students heading down the path to Hogsmeade, laughter and chatter mixing with the crunch of leaves underfoot.

Somewhere ahead, I heard a shriek of laughter that sounded like a Gryffindor first year nearly slipping on the frosted path. A cluster of Ravenclaws walked past, debating something about star charts, but their voices faded quickly into the background hum.

Theo walked close enough that our shoulders brushed, our hands occasionally bumping. Each time they did, it sent a little spark through me, like the first time he'd dared to intertwine our fingers under the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

I still remembered the exact moment: his knuckles brushing mine, the hesitation, then his fingers folding around my hand beneath the tablecloth as if he’d been waiting ages to do it.

"Cold?" he asked.

“Just a bit,” I admitted, though I wasn’t sure how much of the shiver racing through me was from the air and how much from him.

He didn't hesitate. He took my hand, his fingers threading through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hand was warm, his thumb brushing slowly over my knuckles.

My shoulders loosened a fraction, some tight knot of anticipation unspooling in my chest. With his hand around mine, the chill of the day receded, the path ahead suddenly feeling less long and far less daunting.

"Better?" he asked.

“I’ll let you know if I lose any fingers,” I said lightly, squeezing his hand just to feel him squeeze back.

"But yeah..." I smiled up at him. "Much."

The path into Hogsmeade felt almost enchanted today, cobblestones glistening faintly, shop windows lit with warm golden light even under the grey sky. I could already smell sugar and butter and something faintly spiced on the air drifting from Honeydukes and the other shops along the main street.

"I promised you sweets first," Theo said. "Priorities."

"You just want an excuse to buy half the shop," I teased.

"I want an excuse to spoil you," he corrected. "Completely different."

Honeydukes was crowded, shelves piled high with shimmering jars and bright boxes. The air was thick with the smell of chocolate and sugar and something fruity bubbling faintly in a display near the counter.

The noise wrapped around us excited chatter, the scrape of scoops against glass jars, the faint pop of something exploding harmlessly in the back corner. It smelled like childhood and bad decisions.

Theo tugged me gently through the crowd, his hand never leaving mine as he steered us toward the shelves he knew I liked best. He'd been paying attention. He always did.

"All right," he said, stopping us in front of a display. "Pick whatever you want."

I pretended to consider the rows of sweets. "That's a dangerous offer, Nott. I could be here for hours."

"I have time," he replied simply.

The way he said it made something tighten in my chest. It wasn’t just about the afternoon. Theo always made time for my rambling rants about essays, for late-night study sessions, for quiet moments exactly like this.

My gaze flicked over sugar quills, chocolate frogs, and boxes of fudge, until something bright and familiar caught my eye. Fizzy Bees. The tiny yellow sweets shimmered in their jar, faintly buzzing as if alive.

"Those," I said, pointing. "The Fizzy Bees."

Just looking at them made my tongue tingle in remembered sparks. The last time I’d eaten one, I’d laughed so hard I’d nearly snorted pumpkin juice out my nose in the Great Hall.

Theo's lips quirked. "Of course. The ones that make you sound like you've swallowed a handful of fireworks."

“I’m embracing chaos,” I said. “It’s very on brand for dating you.”

"Plus, they're fun," I insisted. "You're just afraid of them."

He raised a brow. "Afraid of sweets?"

"Of sounding ridiculous."

Theo's eyes glinted. "I'll have you know I'm incredibly dignified."

"That's exactly the problem," I said.

“You tripped over your own broom last week,” I reminded him.

“It was a calculated fall,” he argued. “I was distracting the opposition.”

He laughed quietly, reached up, and took a small bag of Fizzy Bees off the shelf. Before I could protest, he added another bag, then tossed in a few other things he knew I liked.

"Theo, that's too much," I started.

The little paper bags stacked in his hands looked like enough sugar to fuel half of Slytherin House for a week. My attempt at a stern look probably wasn’t very convincing.

"Y/N," he said mildly, "you're dating a Nott. Let me be dramatic about it."

“Being dramatic is a Malfoy thing,” I said automatically.

“He doesn’t own the patent,” Theo replied dryly.

He paid at the counter, ignoring my half‑hearted attempts to reach for my own coins. As we stepped back outside onto the High Street, he handed me one of the paper bags. It was warm from the shop, the edges crinkling under my fingers.

"Here," he said. "Open it."

I peered inside. Right at the top was a little handwritten note curled around one of the sweet wrappers.

My heart stuttered. Theo’s handwriting was painfully familiar by now, from shared notes and margin comments and the occasional sarcastic scribble he’d slide across the table in class.

I unfolded it.

My fingers trembled just enough to make the corner of the parchment crackle.

Don't share the Fizzy Bees with Mattheo. He'll never shut up.

A huff of laughter escaped me before I could stop it. I could practically hear Mattheo’s offended squawk already.

Beneath that, in slightly smaller letters:

Also, I love you.

The second line was messier, like he’d hesitated, then written it quickly before he could think better of it. As if he was still a little shy about the words, even after all this time.

Heat rushed to my face. I looked up at him.

"Subtle," I said, but my voice was softer now.

It felt like I was holding more than a scrap of parchment and sweets. Like I was holding something small and breakable and entirely precious.

Theo watched me carefully, like my reaction meant everything. "Too much?"

"No," I whispered. "Not at all."

I shifted the bag to one hand and reached for him with the other. He laced our fingers together again without a word, his thumb brushing against the inside of my wrist.

"Try one," he said.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks that had nothing to do with the fizzing sweet. He watched me like my reaction was better than anything he could have bought in the shop.

I plucked one of the Fizzy Bees from the bag and popped it into my mouth. Immediately, a bright, sparkling sensation fizzed across my tongue and up into my cheeks, like tiny fireworks going off behind my teeth. I couldn't help the surprised little sound that escaped.

Theo's eyes lit up. "There it is."

"Do you want one?" I mumbled, the words coming out slightly distorted as the fizzing intensified.

"Absolutely," he said, clearly lying.

“Coward,” I said, but there was affection threaded through the word.

I fished another one out and held it up to his lips. He hesitated for a second, then leaned forward and took it from my fingers, never breaking eye contact.

He chewed once. The look on his face as the fizz hit made me burst out laughing. His eyes widened, and the next words that came out were bubbling and broken and entirely ridiculous.

The sound ripped out of me, bright and unrestrained, the kind of laugh that made my sides ache. A few heads turned, but for once I didn’t care who was watching.

"Thith ith horribuhl," he said, voice jumping oddly.

I doubled over, clutching the bag to my chest. "You sound like a cursed kettle."

"You did thith on purpoth," he tried, scowling, which only made his distorted voice even funnier. A few passing students glanced over and snickered as they walked past Zonko's.

“Consider it revenge for you hexing my quill to write terrible poetry in Charms,” I said, wiping at my eyes. " And... You offered," I managed between giggles.

“I didn’t think you’d try to kill me with confectionery,” he argued weakly as the fizz finally began to die down.

He tried to look offended, but the fizzing was already tapering off. The moment his voice steadied again, he leaned close to my ear.

"You know," he murmured, "I liked hearing you laugh like that more than I disliked that sweet. So I suppose it was worth it."

My cheeks warmed again. "You're ridiculous."

"Yours, though," he said.

The simple claim stole the rest of my breath more effectively than the Fizzy Bees ever could.

We wandered through the village, bags of sweets swinging between us, past Scrivenshaft's and the owl office, until the smell of butterbeer grew too strong to ignore. The windows of the Three Broomsticks glowed with cozy light, condensation fogging the panes. Theo held the door open for me, and a wave of warmth and chatter washed over us.

"Table there," he said, spotting a small one tucked into the corner where the light from the window pooled softly.

Once we slipped into our seats, Theo shrugged off his cloak, shaking a few stray droplets of melted frost from his hair. He looked comfortable like this, away from the echoing stone corridors of the castle, like he could finally breathe.

"Stay here," he said. "I'll get the drinks."

"I can come with you."

"No," he said, with that stubborn tilt of his mouth. "I'm getting my girlfriend a butterbeer. Sit. Look pretty. Eat a Fizzy Bee."

I rolled my eyes but did as he said, watching him weave through the crowd at the bar. Even in a room full of Hogwarts students, my eyes found him easily. The way he leaned one elbow on the counter, the way he turned his head slightly when someone spoke to him, the way he scanned the room until his gaze landed right back on me.

When he returned, he set a foaming mug of butterbeer in front of me. The steam curled up like caramel‑scented ribbons.

"Careful," he said. "It's hot."

"You sound like Madam Pomfrey," I teased.

"I sound like someone who doesn't want you burning your tongue," he replied smoothly.

I took a careful sip, the warmth spreading through me, sweet and soothing. Theo watched me, his own drink untouched.

"What?" I asked, setting the mug down.

"Nothing," he said.

"Theo."

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You get this little crease here when you're trying not to burn yourself." He reached out and traced the air just beside my bottom lip, not quite touching. "I like it."

My heart flipped. "You're paying far too much attention."

"There's no such thing when it comes to you," he said simply.

I stared at him for a moment, the clatter of cutlery and low hum of voices all fading into something distant. Then I reached across the table and slid my hand over his.

"You know," I said, "you're disgustingly sweet for a Slytherin."

He laced our fingers together on the table, his thumb stroking the back of my hand.

"Don't tell anyone," he murmured. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"I'll keep your secret," I promised.

He went quiet for a beat, looking at our hands like he'd never quite gotten used to the sight, even after a year.

"I like this," he said softly.

"Butterbeer?" I asked.

"Us," he corrected. His eyes flicked up to mine. "I like that it's you. At Hogsmeade. In the common room. On the way to class. Everywhere. I like that it's always you."

My chest felt too full. I squeezed his hand.

"It's always you for me too," I said. "Has been for a while."

He swallowed, his usual smooth composure slipping just enough for me to see the nervous boy underneath. The one who used to sit three seats down in Potions and pretend not to stare.

"Good," he said quietly. "Because I'm rather in love with you, Y/N. And it would be terribly inconvenient if you changed your mind now."

The words hit me like a charm, warm and bright and buzzing in my veins. He'd said it before, in quieter moments, almost shyly. But it still felt new each time, like the first.

I leaned over the small table, the wooden surface pressing against my ribs as I brought my face closer to his.

"I'm not changing my mind," I whispered. "I love you too, Theo."

His fingers tightened around mine. For a second, he just looked at me, like he was committing every detail of this moment to memory.

Then he leaned in and kissed me.

It wasn't dramatic or showy. Just a soft, unhurried kiss that tasted faintly of butterbeer and sugar, his free hand coming up to lightly cradle the side of my face. One of my curls brushed his cheek, and I felt him smile against my lips.

When we pulled back, my heart was racing. Theo's cheeks were faintly pink, his eyes soft.

"You still have that crease," he murmured. "Right there."

"Maybe it's your fault," I said. "You keep making me smile."

He laughed under his breath and squeezed my hand again.

"Then I'll keep doing it," he said. "Every Hogsmeade, every day, as long as you let me."

I took another sip of my butterbeer, feeling warm all the way through, from the tips of my Fizzy‑Bee‑sticky fingers to the curls Pansy had so carefully charmed.

Sitting there in our little corner, his hand wrapped around mine, the noise of the pub swirling around us, it felt like the entire world had narrowed to this: Theo, and me, and the simple, perfect fact that we were us.

Outside, life would go back to essays and house rivalries, to Quidditch and detentions and late-night studying. But here, in this small stolen moment, it was just the two of us and the promise threaded through his fingers where they held mine.

hii! i really hope so 😅 i have his portrayal in my drafts since i started this blog but for some reason i’m never fully satisfied with it (??) 🙃

i feel like i’m being especially overly perfectionist with his portrayal for some unknown reason but i finally think i’m starting to actually like it, so it’ll probably come out soon!