Chapter 15
Hermione
Hermione pulled Theo along next to her, desperate to get away from the thrumming crowd of people. To get him away from this.
“Where are we going?” He asked calmly.
“Um. My common room?” She answered, feeling fairly confident that there would be no one there.
After they’d entered the room, despite the Fat Lady’s huffs of disapproval at the sight of Theo, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Casting a few quick locking and Muffliato charms, she turned to Theo, concern written all over her face.
“Theo,” she breathed, reaching for his face. “That was– are you okay?”
He closed his eyes at the sensation of her fingertips brushing his cheeks. “I am. I’m fine– honestly, Hermione,” he replied.
Hermione froze, perplexed. “Are you sure? That was… a lot. I don’t even know what to say– oh Gods Theo, I’m so sorry. Ron was awful to you.”
Theo smiled at her. “I know I should probably be upset, but I’m not. Is that weird?” Hermione didn’t answer him, her lips parted. “I feel lighter, or something,” he said, eyes searching hers, looking for reassurance.
Hermione finally nodded. “You just let a lot of things off your chest. I’m glad you’re not upset but– Theo. The things Ron said– the things you shared,” she said, hesitating. Her heart was still clenching, still reeling from what she’d just learned. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked quietly, brushing his hair from his forehead.
He shook his head, smiling again at the feeling of her hands on him. “I will– I promise I’ll share all of it with you, Hermione. But maybe another time? I just want to– we only just figured this out, how we feel about each other. I don’t want tonight to be about all that other stuff. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” she said, suddenly feeling almost frantic with the need to reassure him, to give him whatever he wanted. “Theo, I–” she stopped short, not sure what she was trying to convey.
“It’s okay, Hermione. Are you still– this hasn’t changed anything for you, has it?” He asked, and she felt her heart splinter. She knew no matter what, there would always be that small part of Theo that felt unsure, that felt unworthy of her. Hermione stared up at him, feeling her breath come in quick succession.
“No,” she said fiercely, pulling him even closer, running her fingers through his hair, grazing her fingertips across his neck.
“Theo. Do you think something like that would make me change my mind? We don’t have to talk about this, about any of it now. But when you’re ready, I’ll be here. Nothing you tell me will change the way I feel about you– you will never be too much for me. Do you understand me?” She knew she was probably being too intense, but she didn’t care.
His eyes were wide. “Yes,” he breathed, his cheeks flushed. “Yes ma’am,” he added, a genuine, carefree- even mischievous smile appearing on his face.
Hermione pulled back to admire him. “I’ve never seen you smile like that,” she whispered.
“Maybe because I’ve never had a reason to smile like this before,” he replied, and the heat of his gaze was almost too much to take.
“Sit down,” she breathed, and he obliged, eyes never leaving hers. She climbed on top of him, straddling his lap, and she felt his breath hitch, his expression slightly bewildered. His hands hovered above her waist, looking at her like she was something too beautiful to touch, too impossible to be true. The air felt charged, almost dreamlike as she stared back at him, their lips mere inches from each other. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, not in confusion, but in awe, as if he were trying to convince himself that this moment was actually happening.
“Touch me, Theo,” she said, knowing her eyes were burning with something.
She felt his breath stutter as he followed her orders, his hands first landing on her waist and then, boldly, running along her hips, her thighs. His breaths were shallow, rapid, and she leaned in to crash her lips against his, craving the feeling of his kiss. As his hands moved up towards her chest, she moaned into his mouth, feeling half-crazed with longing.
“Hermione, I–” Theo said, pulling back as he searched her face. “I’ve never– I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said, his expression devastatingly open, as if he knew she could stamp out any trace of confidence he had in this moment.
She leaned in, pressing kisses against his neck, relishing in the way he groaned. “You do, though,” she whispered against his ear. “Look at how good you’re making me feel,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling it back to her breast, arching her back at the electricity it sent through her body.
“Fucking hell, Hermione, can I–” he said before stopping himself.
“You want to see me? Like this?” She asked, pulling the straps of her dress off her shoulders, pleased with herself that she’d let Ginny talk her into wearing her one and only lacy bra, knowing the blush pink of it was flattering against her skin tone.
Theo nodded, transfixed, his eyes roving wildly from her chest back up to her eyes.
“I wore this tonight for you, Theo,” she said, feeling almost drunk with confidence. The way he was looking at her– she’d never felt so powerful, so filled with lust.
“You did?” He said breathlessly, his pupils dilated, his hair tousled. Gods, he was gorgeous.
“Yes,” she said, biting her lip. “Do you want to take it off me?”
She heard him inhale sharply as he nodded, reaching around to unclasp it. She nearly reached back to help him, but he managed to figure it out rather quickly. Hermione arched a brow. “You’ve been practicing, then?”
He chuckled. “No. Just beginner’s luck, I suppose?”
Hermione smiled at him, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she began to fully remove her bra.
“Wait,” Theo breathed, stopping her. “Let me?” She nodded, her eyes frozen on him, and she watched his face as he gently pulled the straps off her shoulders, tossing her bra to the side. She got to watch the way his face shifted from admiration to hunger, the way his eyes roamed over her breasts, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling. He didn’t wait for permission this time, his eyes meeting hers as their mouths found each other and her breasts filled his hands.
“Fuck,” she felt him moan into her mouth, and she pushed herself into him, desperate for more. She was dizzy with want, and she knew if he asked her too, she would do anything he wanted.
Pulling back, she began unbuttoning his shirt, tilting her head to ask permission, and when he nodded slightly, she pulled his shirt off him, then his undershirt, frantically searching for the feeling of his bare skin against hers. It felt so fucking right, she thought when she found it, like this was what she’d been chasing every other time she’d kissed a boy. It had never felt this perfect, like a missing piece of her finally falling into place. She ran her hands over his chest.
“This is what I wanted to do that day after Potions class,” she told him. “I wanted to touch you so badly. Did you feel it too?”
Theo’s head fell back against the couch cushion, his eyes closing for a moment. “Merlin, Hermione– what are you trying to do to me?” He pleaded, his voice thick. “Of course I did. Do you know what I almost told you? Before I asked you to leave?” He said between breaths.
She shook her head, then leaned in to kiss his neck. “I almost told you that I’d been imagining this for years now. Every single time I–” he cut himself off.
“Every time you touched yourself?” She asked, grinding against him.
His eyes nearly rolled back in his head. “Gods, Hermione– I can’t hold out. You’re going to make me– fuck,” he growled into her neck. He pulled back suddenly, his eyes searching hers, and she could see the panic rising in his face.
Hermione forced herself to stop, to take a breath, reaching out to smooth his hair back. “We have as long as we want to do this,” she reassured him. “Would you like– do you want to come to bed with me?”
He looked slightly terrified for a moment, and Hermione pressed a kiss against his cheek. “I mean to sleep, Theo. Do you want to come sleep with me? I don’t want to say goodbye yet.”
Theo let out a breath of relief against her cheek. “Really?” He asked, his face so hopeful it made Hermione want to cry.
--------------
Emerging from the bathroom, Hermione turned down the comforter on her bed, smiling shyly at Theo. “Do you need anything?” She asked as she climbed into bed, trying not to feel self-conscious. It was boggling, really, to go from the self-possessed, confident woman she’d just been to the timid schoolgirl she felt like now.
He shook his head, pulling his trousers off as he climbed in next to her. “Sorry- do you want me to go get some joggers? I don’t want it to be–”
Hermione giggled. “No,” she said.
“What’s so funny?” He asked nervously.
“No, it’s nothing,” she said, still giggling. “Sorry. I’m just nervous. I’ve never done this before.”
Theo’s face seemed to relax. “You haven’t?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never slept in the same bed as someone I like.”
“But you’ve slept in the same bed as someone you don’t like? Anything you’d like to tell me, Granger?” He teased.
Hermione shoved him playfully. “Shut it, Knott,” she said through her smile. “Have you?”
“You’re serious?” He asked, and she looked at him in confusion. “Hermione. I’ve never even– that was my first real kiss,” he said, and she could hear the insecurity in his voice without needing to look at him.
“Good,” she whispered as she planted a kiss on his cheek. “No one I need to be jealous of then.” Theo laughed genuinely, and she smiled up at him. “But honestly, Theo, you don’t need to be self-conscious about that kind of thing. I’m not that experienced either,” she said shyly.
“Seriously?” He asked, propping his chin against his elbow as he leaned against the pillow to gaze at her.
“Is that really so hard to believe?” She replied, scooching up closer to him.
“Yes,” he answered before she’d even finished the sentence. “Merlin, Hermione. Have you seen yourself? So you’ve never– I thought you and Weasley were together at some point?”
She felt herself blush. “No. Ron and I kissed twice and that will never, ever happen again. It just felt off to both of us. There have been a few other boys, but it’s never gone very far. Honestly, Theo, it’s never felt like this before,” she said.
Hermione waited as her words lingered in the air, a flutter of warmth in her chest as she saw his eyes brighten, a spark of newfound confidence taking root in the softness of his gaze.
“It’s not– it doesn’t usually feel like this? Kissing someone?” Theo asked quietly.
She shook her head, tilting her chin up to look into his eyes, admiring the way the moonlight fell across his jawline. “Never. With anyone else, it always felt like I was just going through the motions. But with you– it’s like I’ve been waiting for this, even when I didn’t know it. I can’t believe you’ve been here this whole time. I’m so angry at myself for missing out on this– on you for so long.”
Theo’s breath hitched, his gaze faltering for a moment, his fingers stilling against her skin, as if the weight of her words had rendered him momentarily speechless. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough, laden with years of fear and uncertainty
“How could you have known? I spent so long convincing myself that you wouldn’t even look at someone like me– that you’d never want someone like me. Not with everything you had going for you. I couldn’t even let myself hope that you could ever possibly feel the same way. And then when I finally got close to you, it blew my mind because you’re even better than I imagined. Even more brilliant, even more kind– you’re everything, Hermione.”
The weight of his words settled in her chest, a strange mix of warmth and something deeper. Hermione realized, in that moment, how long Theo must have been carrying this, how much he'd kept buried—how often he must have convinced himself that he wasn’t worthy of something like this, that she was too good for him. It wasn’t just the fear of rejection; it was the quiet belief that he wasn’t allowed to be loved, not by her, not by anyone.
“You know, I did notice you,” she said quietly, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. “I noticed how you never joined in when your friends would insult me– the way you kept your distance from it. I noticed how smart you were, how hard you worked in class. I… I noticed when you could see the Thestrals, like Harry could. And I thought about you a lot afterwards, wondered what you’d been through.”
She could feel the unspoken years of longing, of missed opportunities, all of it hanging in the air between them as he listened to her, his gaze attentive yet full of something raw—something almost desperate.
She continued, her fingers still tangled in his hair, her thumb resting against his cheek. “I noticed other things, as well. I was always sort of intrigued by you– I watched you sometimes too. I noticed your eyes- I thought you were quite handsome. And I remember the first time I ever saw you smile– that day Fred and George kept levitating Snape’s fork out of his reach our second year. I thought you had the nicest smile, and I remember thinking you should do it more often. It wasn’t just you, Theo. You were never invisible to me– I always saw you,” she finished, reaching for his hand with her free one.
Hermione felt his grip on her hand tighten ever so slightly as he searched her face, as if trying to make sense of what she was saying. The silence between them was thick with emotion, so much of it unspoken. She could feel the weight of his disbelief, the quiet ache of something she knew she’d never fully understand.
“You don’t know what that means to me, Hermione,” Theo said at last. “I wish I could do it all differently. But I somehow still ended up here – all thanks to you, of course. If it had been left up to me this all would’ve gone to shit. As far as I’m concerned, all of those years of being miserable– they were worth it. I’d do it all again in a fucking heartbeat if it meant I got to be here with you, right now.”
His green eyes were bright, blazing with something. Hermione brought her hands to his neck, pulling her body against his. “I want to kiss you again– we don’t have to do anything else, but I want to kiss you– please,” she whispered urgently, her whole body craving his touch, to feel his lips against hers once more.
He let out a stuttering breath, stifling a moan as her hips met his, as her nails lightly scratched the back of his head down to his shoulders. “Fuck. You’re begging to kiss me, Hermione,” he gritted. “You have no idea what you– Gods, you’re trying to kill me,” he mumbled as he closed the distance between them, lips finding hers.
The kiss was less frantic than the one earlier; it was slower, more intentional. She still felt the same ache to touch him, but she wasn’t feverish with it– the kiss was languid and yet still hungry, and it stirred something deep in her chest, like a slow burn. There was no awkwardness or hesitancy between them now, their bodies responding to each other in a way that made her feel with a curious certainty that this was only the beginning for them. There was a sense of inevitability in the kiss, as though this moment had been waiting for them both—like they had always been leading up to this. Every press of his lips felt like a piece of something whole, something familiar, as if they had known each other for far longer than they had– and yet, she was almost trembling with the thrill of what was still unknown, a heady mix of certainty and the wild excitement of discovery. Hermione couldn’t get enough of his scent. It was strangely familiar to her– something that pulled at her– the ghost of a long-forgotten memory, like the warmth of a place she hadn’t visited in years. He smelled unmistakably comforting, a hint of smooth, polished leather—deep, soft, and expensive. Beneath that, a faint trace of warm cedarwood lingered, rich and inviting, like the scent of an aged library full of well-loved books, and underneath all of it, an almost imperceptible trace of something clean, crisp—like the cold, fresh air of a winter morning.
Somewhere between the kisses and the almost dreamlike, unhurried touches, Hermione felt herself drifting off to sleep, Theo’s arm tucked protectively under her head and the other one wound around her waist, her face pressed against his neck and her hand on his chest absorbing the gentle beats of his heart.
-----------------
When she awoke the next morning, the memories of the previous night came rushing back to Hermione, her body buzzing pleasantly with the sensation of it. Turning her head, she found Theo still sleeping next to her, his features relaxed, almost childlike, his hand still resting on her hip. Gods, she was falling for him so hard. Hermione was certain she could stay in this exact spot and do nothing but watch him sleep for hours, to trace the sharp cut of his jaw with her eyes, to memorize every freckle, every faint line of his face that softened in sleep. She wanted to take in the way his lashes fanned across his cheek, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips as if he was dreaming. She wanted to savor the stillness of him, to marvel at the privilege of being able to observe him in this pure, unguarded state.
She leaned in and pressed a kiss against his temple, feeling him stir underneath it. His eyes opened and immediately widened when he saw her. “Good morning,” she said, dropping her head back on the pillow.
“Good morning. Are you– is everything alright?” Theo asked, his eyes searching hers, perhaps for some sign of regret or uncertainty, which she already knew he wouldn’t find.
“Of course. I’ve never been better, actually,” she smiled.
A boyish smile spread across his face. “Me too.” He frowned suddenly. “I wish– I hate that I have to say goodbye to you so soon.”
The reminder felt like a weight on Hermione’s chest. “What will you do for Christmas break?” She asked.
Theo’s face sobered. “Um, I’m not sure. Probably stay here. Maybe go to Draco’s for Christmas,” he grimaced.
“Do you not like going there?” She asked curiously.
He shrugged. “It’s alright, I guess. You know, Lucius is at Azkaban like my father, so it’s just Draco and Narcissa there– except she isn’t really there if you know what I mean. Everything that happened during the war, and Lucius being in prison for the rest of his life– she isn't coping with it very well. It’s just… rather quiet. And not very cheerful. But it’s better than spending it alone at Nott Manor, that’s for sure.”
Her heart clenched at his words. “That’s terrible,” she said softly, frowning. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone, either. Maybe I could…” she hesitated. “I could stay here for the holiday?”
Theo blinked at her. “Hermione. Thank you for saying that, but I’d never expect you to miss out on time with your loved ones for me. Besides, this is– it’s still new between us, and I don’t want you to feel rushed or pressured, or anything like that.”
Hermione opened her mouth to object, but was interrupted by a knock on her door. “Hermione? Are you awake?” Asked the very unwelcome voice of Ron Weasley.
She turned to Theo, who was looking at her with brows raised, expression ambivalent, as if to say ‘your call.’ Hermione felt the anger from last night resurface, no longer pushed to the side in favor of the more pleasant emotions she’d allowed to take over temporarily.
“Bugger off, Ron,” she snapped at the closed door.
She heard him sigh. “You have every right to be angry– believe me, I know that, and you don’t owe me a thing, but would you please come out here and talk to me?”
Hermione crossed her arms, fury still bubbling. She was silent.
“Please? Please, Hermione. Just five minutes, and then I’ll never bother you again if you don’t want me to,” he begged.
She relented, if only to give him a much-deserved piece of her mind. Yanking a jumper over her pyjamas and pulling her hair back into a claw-clip, she shoved her feet into her slippers and stomped out of the room, throwing an apologetic look at Theo. Upon reconsidering, she stepped backwards and grabbed her wand off her bedside table, just in case she felt like hexing the prat who stood waiting outside her room.
Hermione stepped into the sitting room, slamming the door behind her. “What the hell do you want, Ronald? I have nothing to say to you.”
Ron was pale, dark circles ringing his eyes as if he hadn’t been able to sleep. Good, she thought. He glanced at the wand in her hand, then back up to her, looking fairly unsurprised that she'd come ready to attack him. “Look, Hermione, I’m so bloody sorry. I was completely out of line last night, and I feel awful.”
She kept her expression blank. “You should feel awful.”
He cringed. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forgive me– at least not yet. I’ve been thinking a lot, and I know there are things I need to work on. Controlling my temper, for one, but also being more… erm, open-minded. You’re the smartest person I know and you’ve always been a good judge of character. I should have listened to you. I don’t know why I carry grudges around like this– I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to forgive people. But what I did was wrong, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
Hermione considered his words. Part of her was proud of him for having the self-awareness to admit that he needed to work on himself, something she’d never heard him admit before. But the other part of him knew he had crossed a line, and she didn’t want to let him off the hook. “I mean, I'm glad to hear you say that, Ron. You’re right, you do need to control your temper and be more open-minded, but it’s one thing to say that and another to actually do it." She looked at him pointedly. "And I appreciate the apology, but it’s really not me who you owe it to. You do know that, right?” She kept her voice firm, refusing to let him know his words had affected her at all.
Ron nodded grimly. “Of course, Hermione. I know I owe Nott an apology.”
“And Malfoy, too?” She asked, daring him to object.
He sighed. “Yes, and Malfoy too. But mainly Nott. I had no idea he was– he isn’t what I thought.”
“It almost makes you think, maybe you should actually get to know someone before deciding who they are, yeah?” Hermione asked, her tone dry.
“Yeah, it does,” he sighed. “I know this isn’t the right time, but you’re still coming for Christmas, right?”
Hermione closed her eyes as she sighed. “I don’t know, Ron. I would hate to cancel on your mum, but I’m not sure if it’s the best time to–”
“Nott can come,” Ron said, so quickly that Hermione wasn’t even sure she’d heard him right.
“What?” She asked, eyes narrowed.
“If he doesn’t have plans, I mean, and if you think he’d want to. I already talked to Mum, and she said he’s more than welcome. I’ll be on my best behaviour, I promise. Please, Hermione. You can be angry at me for as long as you want to, but please don’t miss out on Christmas,” he pleaded, his face tight with anxiety.
Hermione’s eyes widened as she took in his words. It wasn’t the worst idea, she admitted to herself. While she certainly wasn’t ready to forgive Ron and wouldn’t blame Theo if he didn’t want to go anywhere near him again, she did hate the idea of missing out on Christmas at the Burrow– and she’d already begun feeling torn about Theo spending the holiday alone or at with the Malfoys. Harry, Ginny and him had already started to develop a very tentative friendship, so she knew he’d have people to talk to besides her.
“I’ll talk to him. But I’m not making any promises. Understand?” She replied. He nodded, and she paused to reconsider. “Actually, you can invite him yourself- after you apologize of course,” she said, raising a brow.
His face froze for a moment but he nodded in acceptance. “Do you know where I could find– would you tell him I’m looking for him whenever you see him, then?”
Hermione smirked. “Theo,” she called over her shoulder. “Ron would like to speak with you, if you’re feeling up to it,” savoring the way Ron’s jaw had gone slack when he realized Theo had spent the night.
Theo emerged about a minute later, still in his t-shirt, his trousers now back on. His hair looked deliciously tousled, and it was all Hermione could do not to jump into his arms right there.
“Weasley,” he said cooly but not unkindly, leaning against the doorframe.
“Nott,” Ron replied, cheeks coloring slightly as Hermione wrapped an arm around Theo's waist. “Listen, I owe you an apology for last night. You didn’t do anything to deserve the things I said to you, and I feel terrible. Honestly. You don’t need to forgive me, or even say anything, but I’m truly sorry, Nott,” he said, his expression genuine.
“Okay,” Theo said, and Hermione looked up at him in surprise.
“Okay?” She asked, confused.
“Yeah. Okay. I get it- I mean, I would never have spoken to you like that, but you’re also not related to a psychotic mass-murderer. I understand why you’d have some misgivings about me, and I know you were trying to protect your friend. I know you think I don’t deserve her,” Theo said, his expression unwavering.
“I never said tha–” Ron started, but Theo interrupted.
“It’s fine. I don’t think I do either, but as you probably know, Granger’s a stubborn one,” he said, smiling slightly at her frown.
Ron watched the interaction with some interest. “Look, it’s– I can tell she cares for you. And you seem like a decent enough bloke. I’m not saying we have to be friends, but I promise to be civil. You don’t need to worry about me pulling anything like last night again, alright?”
Theo nodded silently, his face impassive. “Alright,” he said.
“On that note,” Ron said awkwardly, his eyes darting around as he yanked on his collar. “This is a bit weird, but as I’m sure ‘Mione told you, she usually spends Christmas with my family. My mum’s heard all about you from Gin, and she asked me to invite you to spend the holiday.”
Theo’s unflappable demeanor finally shifted to surprise. “At your house?” He asked, looking to Hermione for confirmation.
Ron nodded, still looking slightly uncomfortable. “Yup. No pressure, of course– I know it’s last minute and I’m sure you have plans.”
Theo looked at Hermione again, eyes searching hers. “I don’t, actually,” he said slowly before turning back to Ron. “I was probably just going to stay here. I’m not particularly fond of my own home, despite my father’s absence. I try to avoid it as much as possible,” he said solemnly.
Hermione squeezed his hand, noticing Ron flinch slightly at his words, guilt written onto his face. “So, you’ll come then?” He asked.
Theo looked at Hermione once more. “Do you want me there?” He asked quietly, and she knew how vulnerable he was being by asking that question, particularly in front of Ron.
“I really do,” she said honestly. “If you want to be there, of course.”
Theo nodded at Ron. “Okay. Thank you for the invitation,” he said somewhat stiffly, sounding almost like a small, rather posh child practicing what he’d learned in finishing school.
Ron gave him a tight-lipped smile and nod. “It’s nothing formal– probably very different than any Christmas you’ve had,” he said, and Hermione almost snapped at him for being a tosser until she realized he was trying to prepare Theo for his family’s lack of wealth or sophistication. It made her heart soften towards him– albeit just the tiniest bit.
“Anything is better than the Christmases I’ve had, honestly,” Theo muttered. “That’s– thanks, again,” he finished.
As Ron nodded again, throwing Hermione yet another apologetic smile, she turned to Theo and pulled him back into her room. “Was that alright? I’m sorry if you felt a bit, erm, cornered. Do you really want to come?”
Theo reached down to tuck a curl behind her ear. “I want to be wherever you are, Hermione,” he said, his expression soft and sincere– but also cautiously hopeful, as if he were standing at the threshold of something, unsure what would happen next, but beginning to trust that whatever it was would be worth the risk.