because to him, that’s what you’ve always been.

the only issue being, he’d stayed quiet for so long, content to be your closest friend, that he wasn’t even sure you knew of his feelings.

scratch that, he was certain that you didn’t know of his feelings.

theodore nott had, for all intents and purposes, friendzoned himself, as it were.

and for a while, he was okay with that. because labeling something?

that makes it fragile. breakable.

except now, it was all he had in him to stand off in the shadows of the darkening corridor, fists clenched white with barely restrained rage as he watched adrian pucey attempt to make a move on you.

before he knew what he was doing, he’d stalked over to you and flung one large, heavy arm over your shoulder. he wasn’t subtle about the way that he pulled you closer.

he was even less subtle about the way that he glared at adrian with a look so venomous, even a snake would slither away.

theo doesn’t let up until his opponent stalked away, pridefully trying to keep the dejection out of his features.

honestly, theo was a little surprised. he’d expected more pushback from adrian. he’d expected at least an insult or snide comment. maybe even a hex.

what he had not expected was to turn towards you and be met with a scathing look.

“what? oh andiamo bellissima, don’t tell me you actually wanted pucey to be hitting on you?” theo’s tone was dripping with contempt and exasperation.

he watches as you cross your arms, a petulant groan escaping your soft lips. admittedly, he’s only half listening to you as you tell him off about…

well, something.

theo’s eyes slowly travel your face, and then your body, head to toe. he finds himself distracted by the way the hem of your skirt hits the soft skin of your thighs.

even more completely enamored with the way your lips wrap around each word.

he has to recite a few boring prayers in latin from his nonna’s lectures about his lifestyle just to keep himself from boring holes into your chest as it rises and falls with your frustration.

“it’s not just that, theodore!”

the use of his full name by his best friend snaps him back to reality.

this was more than your usual whining at theo’s antics. or the way he’d always force you to eat some of your vegetables at dinner.

no, this was genuine.

“you always come between me and any guy! you— you say sweet things like you might— and then you just don’t! but oh, merlin forbid some other guy is interested in me!”

theo really doesn’t appreciate what you’re insinuating.

it’s only half true after all. sure he does chase guys away, and he absolutely sweet talks you, but he doesn’t do it to lead you on or to make you miserable.

he does it because he wants you in a way he knows he can’t have you.

but theo doesn’t tell you this. no, theo watches in complete silence as you scoff and turn heel on him.

in fact, theo has been doing nothing but watching recently.

watching you ignore him for the past two and a half weeks.

watching you laugh with your friends at your own table at meal times.

watching you walk right past him at your usual study time in the library.

watching you look through him at this very moment as he corners you.

theo watches you for another second after that. like he’s waiting for you to look back at him. like you always do.

you don’t.

your shoulder brushes past his as you move to leave and something in him finally snaps loose.

“stop.”

it comes out rougher than he means for it to.

you pause at the end of the corridor but don’t turn around immediately. when you finally face him, your expression is exhausted. not angry. not even really sad anymore.

just tired.

theo thinks for a fleeting moment that he’d prefer if you screamed at him again.

“what, theodore?”

and there it is again.

theodore.

not theo. not some sarcastic nickname muttered under your breath.

just theodore.

like you’re trying to remind yourself he’s only a person.

his throat tightens.

“you think i don’t let people near you because i like messing with your life?” he asks quietly.

“i think you don’t know what you want.”

the words land cleanly between his ribs. because the worst part is that maybe you’re right.

theo knows what it’s like to want in ugly ways. he knows obsession and jealousy and possession because he grew up surrounded by men who mistook those things for love.

but this thing with you has never felt ugly. and that’s how he knows.

“i know what i want,” he says resolutely.

you laugh once, humorless. “really? because from where i’m standing, it just feels like you want me close enough that nobody else can have me.”

theo flinches, brow furrowed and frown deepening. the silence stretches.

outside, thunder rumbles somewhere beyond the castle walls.

you look at him then. really look at him. and your face softens for half a second.

“that’s the problem, theo,” you continue quietly. “i know you better than anyone and i still don’t know what any of this means to you.”

his chest caves in a little at that. because you do know him.

you know he takes his tea with too much sugar when he hasn’t slept.

you know he reads the last page of books first because he hates uncertainty.

you know he gets quiet on the anniversary of his mother’s death and mean when he’s scared and restless when he cares too much.

you know every ruined and ugly thing about him.

but not this. never this.

theo drags a hand down his face before looking at you again. if he doesn’t get this out now, he knows he never will. that he’ll have to live the rest of his days watching you be happy with someone else.

“do you know how awful it is,” he says softly, “to be around someone all the time and still feel like they’ve barely touched the surface of you?”

your expression falters.

“theo—”

“i know you,” he cuts in, voice gentler now. “i know the sound you make when you’re trying not to laugh in the library. i know you hate pumpkin pastries but eat them anyway because pansy likes them. i know you pretend not to care about quidditch scores but you always ask draco who won.”

he steps closer, hand coming up to cup your jaw like it belongs there. like he belongs with you.

“and i know that every time someone looks at you for too long, i feel sick over it. i am,” he pauses, eyes flicking as he searches for an appropriate word. “i am undone by you.”

you stare at him. silent, breathing unevenly, chest doing that fucking heaving thing that threatens to bring him to his knees.

theo swallows hard.

“but i don’t know how to do this,” he admits. “because you’re my best friend and if i ruin this, i ruin everything.”

your eyes finally soften completely at that.

“theo,” you whisper.

he shakes his head once, desperate suddenly.

“i wish you could know me the way i know you,” he says. “not this version of me that jokes and picks fights and acts like none of this matters.”

his voice drops. “mio dio, i wish you knew how much it matters.”

you’re close enough now that he can see the exact moment your anger breaks apart. and when you speak, your voice sounds small.

“then tell me.”

theo looks at you for a long moment. then, very carefully, like he’s handing you something fragile enough to shatter in your palms, he says,

“i think i’ve been in love with you for a while.”

you exhale shakily, the only sound in the otherwise silent corridor.

“oh.”

theo huffs out a laugh at that, eyes dropping to the floor for a second and sarcasm rising to the surface like a defense mechanism. “yeah. brilliant response, really.”

but then your hand slips into his sleeve, fingers curling lightly around his wrist.

and theo goes quiet.

“i think,” you murmur slowly, “that maybe i’ve been waiting for you to say that for even longer.”