Chapter 17
Hermione
Hermione felt like she was moving through a dream, like everything around her had softened and taken on a golden glow. Waking up next to Theo every morning, watching him begin to open up to her friends, the perceptive way he watched her, like he could tell exactly how she was feeling purely through her facial expressions, the changes in her tone. She wondered if it would feel like this forever– the blissful, needy way they gravitated towards each other, as if merely sitting next to each other wasn’t enough. They were still taking things slowly– almost painfully slowly, in Hermione’s opinion. Even just touching his hand still sent sparks shooting through her. Every time they touched– something as simple as Theo leaning in close to whisper in her ear when they were surrounded by people– sent a wave of warmth that made her feel both safe and alive, like she was standing on the edge of something impossibly exciting.
When they were alone, the air around them seemed to hum with an electric tension, her desire to touch him drowning out anything else. Hermione didn’t know if he was waiting for her to push further, to demand more. Theo seemed so content to accept whatever it was she was willing to give him, never pushing for anything beyond that, even though she wished he would. Maybe it was unfair to expect him to tell her exactly what he wanted– after all, she was the more experienced one between the two of them. The anticipation, the waiting– it was making her feel slightly mad with lust. Theo was the kind of attractive that made her breath catch every time she looked at him, imagining what it would be like to touch him all over, to feel him lose control. She felt like a teenage boy, constantly checking him out, admiring him every chance she got. Hermione loved when he slept without a shirt on, craved the feeling of his bare chest against her hands, against her lips. His skin was always warm and appeared sun-kissed, and she loved how the lean muscles in his arms and shoulders moved effortlessly, not bulky, but wiry—strong in a way that made her want to reach out and trace the lines of his form.
Hermione’s attraction to Theo went so far beyond physicality, though. For someone who had never had anything close to a relationship, he made an incredible boyfriend. He was attentive, intuitive, thoughtful, and had a way of making her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, like she was the only person in the room when he walked in. He floored her, truthfully. She was swept off her feet– completely enamoured, fully aware that she was in love, and she felt the feeling growing every day she spent with him. She almost dreaded the thought of going back to school, of leaving the strangely blissful bubble they’d created at the Burrow.
She felt like she had seen a whole new side of Theo since bringing him here, one he hadn’t even seemed to have known existed himself. Her heart ached at the way he watched interactions between the Weasleys with rapt attention, like he was trying to memorize the way a family could be, the way he continuously sought Molly’s approval, seeming to find such joy in simple tasks like helping her with the washing or handing her ingredients whilst she cooked. Theo was the most tender, complex man she’d ever encountered– guarded yet endlessly giving, as if every small gesture was a piece of himself he was offering, quietly and without expectation. He didn’t just want to help; he wanted to be seen, to understand love in its simplest, most genuine forms. It was in the softness of his gaze, the way he moved through the kitchen with a quiet reverence, as though every action mattered, like he was building a bridge to a place he’d always imagined but never thought he could reach himself.
When she awoke on the morning of Christmas Eve, Hermione felt a heaviness in her chest that she hadn’t noticed the night before. The sky was gray as she laid there, wishing she could go back to sleep, but she could tell her body wouldn’t allow it. She glanced at Theo, who was facing away from her. He was shirtless, and she stared at the muscles in his back, at the way his shoulders moved ever so slightly as he exhaled in his sleep. For some reason, she was dreading the moment they’d have to get up and go downstairs, greeted by Molly’s fussing, by the bombardment of Christmas cheer. She swallowed, her tongue like paper, and a cold weight settled in the pit of her stomach, creeping up her spine. Her body felt stiff, almost like it was trying to resist the inevitable, as if every muscle was bracing for impact. The thought of stepping into the bright, bustling room made her feel small, like she was about to be swallowed by a world of noise and warmth that she wasn’t sure she could fit into. The happiness in the air was suffocating, and a low hum of anxiety ran through her, tightening her chest with every passing second.
Seeming to sense her angst even in his sleep, Theo stirred, turning towards her. She braced herself, sure he was going to greet her with a cheerful “Happy Christmas,” but his face was solemn when his sleepy eyes began to register her demeanor. Without saying a word, he pulled Hermione to his chest, pressing a reassuring kiss to her temple, which alone was enough to break down her walls. She felt herself beginning to sob, clinging to his body for comfort. Just as he’d done the last time, he didn’t ask her what was wrong, didn’t demand an explanation for her tears– he just allowed her to feel, to process her emotions in the only way her body knew how.
When she finally calmed, Theo drew back, eyes searching hers. “Would you like me to let everyone down there know you’ll be sleeping in today?”
She nodded at him gratefully, still astonished at the way he seemed to know exactly what she needed without her having to ask. He leaned down to kiss her as he pulled a shirt on, returning several minutes later with two steaming cups of coffee. “I can bring breakfast up too, if you’d like,” he said, and she knew he meant it. She knew he’d spend the entire day holed up in this room with her if she asked him to, and she loved him for it.
“It’s okay. I just needed a bit of buffering time,” she said, smiling weakly at him. “I think I’ll have a shower.”
When she returned from the bathroom, her robe wrapped around her and her hair still dripping, he was still sitting in the same spot, book open on his lap. He glanced up at her, blushing slightly. She wondered why she had come straight here instead of going to her room to get changed, almost as if she was being pulled back to him like a magnet.
“I just need to get changed, then we can go downstairs?” Hermione said quietly, sitting on the bed, picking up her mug, cringing when she realized it had probably gone cold. Until she took a sip, and realized Theo had cast a warming charm on it. Naturally.
“Of course– but Hermione, if it’s getting to be too much today, just tell me. I can make an excuse and we can come back to my room, or you can have some time alone– you don’t even need to explain yourself to anyone. Okay?” He said, looking at her with a heartbreaking amount of care and concern in his face. Gods, he was everything.
How are you like this? She asked him the question in her head, but didn’t repeat it aloud, not wanting to shatter the quiet peace of the moment. It was perplexing, though– how he’d managed to become so emotionally intelligent, so empathetic, despite the way he’d been raised. Hermione was sure it had something to do with his mother– perhaps there was some inherent goodness that she had passed onto her son, something written into his very DNA.
Theo seemed to notice her studying him, because he turned to her and raised his eyebrows, blushing a little. It was so damn sweet how he still seemed to get flustered when she stared at him like this. It made Hermione want to jump his bones, truthfully.
“Everything alright?” He asked her, probably wondering what the hell was going on in her head to cause her to go from full-blown sobbing to staring at him lustfully, all within the same hour.
“Yes. Just admiring you,” she said truthfully, and he turned an even deeper shade of red.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he said shyly, his green eyes darker than usual. Hermione had noticed the way they seemed to change with his mood– darker and intense – emerald colored when he was focused or serious, and lighter when he smiled, more of a sage-green.
“Come here,” she beckoned to him, patting the spot on the bed next to her. He rose immediately, his face still nervous as he sat down beside her. She leaned in to kiss him, feeling her body flutter at the softness of his lips, at the way his scent enveloped her.
Mmm, she heard herself moan into his lips, and he let out a surprised breath at the sound.
Like always, there was a hesitancy to the way he kissed her, as if he was afraid to let go completely. She thought back to their first night together, the way he’d panicked when things had gotten intense, when she knew she would’ve let him make love to her in the middle of the common room if he’d asked. There was something holding him back then, and although he was more relaxed and confident now, she could tell he was worried about disappointing her somehow, about not being good enough. She was sure it had nothing to do with his size– she’d felt it through his pants, seen the outline through his briefs, and he definitely had nothing to hide in that department. It always stopped at the same point with them– his hands would roam all over her body, everywhere besides down there, but every time she started to reach for him, he’d pull away, stammering apologies and making excuses. Today was no different, of course, and Hermione tried not to let herself get frustrated. Deciding it was time to put some of that Gryffindor bravery to use, she pulled away, planting a final chaste kiss on his lips.
“Theo, can I ask you something?” She said, heart racing.
“Of course,” he replied, but she’d learned his expressions, his mannerisms well enough to know that he was panicking.
Hermione grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, you don’t need to panic,” she reassured. “It’s just– I’m a bit embarrassed asking this, but is there a reason you always stop me before– you know, before things go any further than this?” She asked, biting her lip nervously.
Some of the color drained from his face. “Fuck,” he muttered “I’m sorry, Hermione.”
“No! Please don’t apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise,” she told him, meaning every word. “I just want to know what’s going on in your head. Whatever it is– you can tell me, you know.”
Theo’s face was scarlet as he began to explain. “It’s– obviously you know it has nothing to do with you, right? It’s just me. I’m so fucking nervous, Hermione. You overwhelm me. I’m so out of my depth with this, and I know I’m going to fuck it up monumentally.”
Hermione’s heart squeezed. “Merlin, Theo, do you think I’m some sort of sex goddess? This is mostly new to me, too. There’s no pressure, of course, but you don’t need to blow me away or anything. You’re not– do you know how attracted I am to you, Theo? Sometimes I just watch you from across the room when you're reading a book or drying a dish and I feel like the luckiest girl on Earth. Or sometimes, when you hold my hand or touch my waist or something small like that, I feel like ripping all your clothes off right then and there,” she said, knowing her face was pink too, but desperately wanting him to understand.
Theo was staring at her like she’d just spoken parseltongue. “Fucking hell, Hermione,” he said, eyes wide. “You can’t just say things like that without–” he stopped.
“Without what? Without backing them up?” She said, fixing her gaze on him. “I’d like to, if you’ll let me.”
Theo blinked at her, his eyes wide. “I’ve been wanting to be close to you, in every way, for a very long time now– you have to know that, Hermione,” he says, voice quiet but intense. “You have no idea how badly I want you, how attracted I am to you.”
Hermione leaned forward and combed through his hair with her fingers. “So what’s stopping you, then?” She asked softly.
“I just know I’ll be stuck in my own head. I’m going to be so worried about making sure you like it, making sure everything is good for you– but I don’t know how to do that. I have a nasty habit of overthinking every little thing, especially when it comes to you. It’s not that I don’t want to– believe me, I do,” Theo said, and she could see in his eyes how much pressure he was putting on himself, how badly he wanted to please her.
“Trust me, Theo– I’ll like it. Even if it’s not perfect the first time, it will be with you, and that’s all I could ask for. But we can ease into it. There’s no rush, and there’s no pressure– regardless, I’m not going anywhere. I’m committed to you, I hope you know that,” Hermione said.
Her words seemed to quell some of his anxiety, at least for now, because his shoulders relaxed a bit. “Okay. Thank you, Hermione. I know it’s stupid– I know I’m absolutely barking to hesitate– I mean Gods, look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and if I can’t make you feel good, then I’d absolutely hate myself.”
“It’s not stupid, Theo. I understand– I want to make you feel good, too. What we have– all of this, is very special to me. I just want you to take some of that pressure off yourself. Can you try to do that?” Hermione asked, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Yes– I’ll try, I mean. Can I ask you something too?” Theo said, and she could tell he was getting nervous again, his muscles tensed.
“Anything,” she said, trying to be as reassuring as possible.
“Are we– fuck, sorry. Not the best way to start this. I don’t know how this usually works, honestly, but I want to be together. As in, I want you to be my girlfriend. Is that okay?” There was a nervous tension around him, like a wire pulled taut, and his eyes were wide, almost pleading, as if he wasn’t sure what she was going to say.
“Gods, Theo– of course. I was already kind of assuming I was,” she said shyly, and she could see some of the tension drain from him. “This isn’t just a casual thing to me. You know that right?” She added, looking him in the eye to make sure he understood.
“Of course– I mean, I didn’t want to assume anything. It’s far from casual to me either. I’m quite serious about you, Hermione. About us,” he said, his voice husky.
Just as she was about to lean in and kiss him again, a voice rang out from down the hall. “Hermione, dear– are you awake?” Molly sang.
Hermione froze. “Erm– yes, Molly! Just chatting with Theo!” Theo’s eyes were wide, but he was smiling.
“Oh, so sorry to interrupt! I just wanted to make sure you were alright– are you coming down for breakfast? I’ve saved you a plate!” The woman’s voice replied. Hermione’s chest constricted at the woman’s kindness, with the tender way she took care of everyone, even those who were not her own.
“I’ll be right down,” she replied, finding that some of the heaviness that had sat on her chest when she awoke had dissipated.
Hermione headed to the room she shared with Ginny and dressed, pulling on her favourite denims and a cable-knit white jumper. She pulled her still-damp hair into two neat plaits before putting on her favourite small gold hoops. Slipping her feet into her well-loved leather boots, she glanced in the mirror. Hermione wasn’t one to dwell on her appearance, but she gazed curiously at herself now. I’m Theo’s girlfriend, she thought, wondering what he thought when he looked at her. He told her all the time that she was beautiful, and she knew he meant it– there was always such sincerity in his voice. Did he like her wild mane of curls? Did he like her brown eyes– something she’d disliked when she was younger but had grown to appreciate now?
Feeling her cheeks flame, Hermione found herself wondering if he liked her body. If he imagined what it would be like to touch her, to memorize every curve. Hermione liked her own body well enough; she liked that it was strong– that it had carried her through the countless times she’d found herself in danger and still managed to push through. Her body had always been a silent partner, reliable when her mind and heart had been tested to their limits. She had her mother’s hips– an inheritance of strength and resilience, of something both nurturing and powerful and somehow quintessentially feminine. During the war and the months following it, Hermione’s body had become all sharp edges, bony and thin from the stress, her refusal to eat. Now that she was in a better place, her softness had returned, along with curves that hadn’t been there before. Giving her reflection a sharp nod of acknowledgement, Hermione headed down for breakfast.
When she got downstairs, Theo handed her a plate, and to her surprise, planted a kiss on her cheek. It’s not that Theo wasn’t affectionate– he clearly enjoyed the physical contact with her, but he rarely initiated more intimate gestures like that, particularly around other people. It was unexpectedly tender, and the kiss felt loaded, charged with something that wasn’t there before. The air between them seemed to shift, thick with a subtle but undeniable tension. It wasn’t just affection—it was something more, something unspoken, something that made her pulse quicken. The way his lips brushed against her skin, just barely lingering for a moment longer than necessary, left a heat that spread through her, making the room feel smaller.
She sat at the table across from him, chatting with Harry and Ginny, but she kept catching Theo’s eye. When she did, she felt an unspoken understanding between them, a kind of silent acknowledgment that things had changed. His green eyes were dark, heavy somehow– but warm with something deeper, something like longing, maybe, or desire. Even when she wasn’t looking at him she could feel him staring– at the spot between her neck and shoulder blade, her lips, and when she stood, she saw his eyes move over her body in a way that made her feel slightly dizzy. His gaze was mixed with a certain intensity that hadn’t been there before, as if he was waiting for her to notice the shift, to feel it too.
After breakfast, they settled on the couch. It had actually begun to snow outside– something that made the air feel even more magical, more alive. They played cards with the others, and around noon, Mrs. Weasley broke out some warm mulled wine. Hermione felt a pleasant buzz from the drinks, and the tension between her and Theo was palpable. Hermione felt like every time he touched her, it was even more intentional than usual, as if he was trying to convey something, and it made her stomach flutter with anticipation. The day passed by in a blissful lull, filled with games, drinks, snacks, and general merriment. The younger generation, including Hermione and Theo, even bundled up and went for a walk in the snow, returning with red noses and smelling of cold air. Dinner was a warm, hearty affair, Molly outdoing herself as always. The spread included a delicious roasted butternut squash soup, a beautifully golden and crisp roast turkey, roast potatoes, honey-glazed carrots, and a decadent trifle for dessert. Everyone was stuffed afterwards, heading to the living room to sink into the couches, doze off for a few moments, and let the warmth of the fire lull them into a peaceful daze before the festivities continued.
Just as Hermione was preparing to settle in with her book, Theo stood, running his fingers through his hair in that telltale nervous way. “Hermione, can you come upstairs with me for a minute?” He asked quietly.
Hermione cocked her head in confusion but nodded slowly. She could have sworn she saw Ginny shoot Theo a knowing smirk, but she couldn’t imagine what that could possibly be about. As they made their way upstairs, Hermione realized they were passing both of their bedrooms, heading towards the stairs leading up to the attic.
“Theo– what are we–” she started.
“Just wait a minute,” he said shyly.
When they reached the awning of the attic, Hermione gasped. The room had been transformed into a cozy lounge space– an overstuffed couch sat in the middle of the room with plenty of blankets and a few snacks on the table in front of it. When she turned towards the back of the room, she saw an old-school Muggle projector, its blue light reflecting onto a white sheet draped onto the wall.
“What is this?” Hermione turned to him, her eyes wide.
Theo ducked his head, blushing. “I thought you might want to watch that movie– the one you told me about. If it’s too much– if you think it will make you sad or anything we don’t have to,” he said.
Hermione felt her eyes welling up with tears. She was blown away by this– by him, and for the first time in recent memory, she was almost speechless. When he noticed her expression, she could see the panic start to bloom in his face, so she quickly leaned in and pressed her mouth against his.
“I love you,” she said breathlessly, not caring if it was too soon. She was too swept up in the moment, and besides, she’d realized it quite some time ago anyways.
Theo’s head snapped up to look at her, shock painted onto his features. His brow furrowed slightly– something that looked like doubt crossing his face. “I– Hermione. You don’t mean that,” he said, swallowing hard.
“Why wouldn’t I?” She asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed, her eyes finding the floor.
“Fuck,” he whispered, seeing her reaction. He reached for her hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just– are you sure? You don’t think it’s too soon or anything?”
“Do you?” She swallowed, not wanting to look him in the eye.
“No,” he answered immediately. “Hermione. Are you sure? I mean– are you really sure?”
“I’m sure,” she replied, finally getting the nerve to look at him. “I don’t want to scare you off–”
Theo let out a laugh and Hermione startled. “Sorry,” he said quickly, covering his mouth. “It’s just laughable that you think you’d scare me off.”
“What does that even mean?” She asked, starting to feel frustrated. She was tired of this bizarre back-and-forth.
“Gods, I’m so sorry– I’m really making an arse out of myself,” he groaned. “Just so we’re clear, Hermione, I’m in love with you,” he said, his voice quiet, almost hesitant, as his eyes dropped to their hands.
“You are?” She asked, genuine surprise on her face.
“You couldn’t tell? Hermione, I know I didn’t know you like I do now, but believe me when I say I’ve been in love with you for years,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to feel the same way– honestly, I still don’t.”
Hermione couldn’t help but stare at him. She knew he’d noticed her since second year– he’d told her so, but in love with her? The thought made her heart feel like it was beating outside of her chest. She imagined Theo as he was when he was younger, watching her, never saying a word, but silently yearning for her. How had she never noticed? Maybe it should have scared her, but it didn’t– it only made her love him more.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, Theo. Those words aren’t something I take lightly.” She fixed him with a stare, trying to convey how serious she was.
His brow was still furrowed slightly, as if he still couldn’t accept what she was saying. “You really mean it? You’re not just saying it because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
"Theo, I’m not saying it because I think you want me to. I’m saying it because it’s how I feel,” she said, taking a step closer and placing her hand on his cheek. “I love you. I love everything about you. I love you,” she said the last part fiercely, as if daring him to ask her if she meant it again.
“Fuck– I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Hermione,” he said, leaning into her hand, closing his eyes slightly. “I love you. It’s hard to accept that you feel the same way, I’ll admit it. But I’m so bloody happy to hear it. I don’t think I could ever get tired of hearing you say that.”
She smiled, brushing a kiss against his lips. “I’ll say it as many times as you want. What you did for me tonight– it’s so incredibly thoughtful, Theo. Thank you.”
They settled on the couch, and Hermione was touched when she realized he’d managed to get ahold of some Muggle snacks. “How did you even buy these?” She asked, giggling.
“Uh, well, I had some help from Potter,” he said, blushing. “It was what you might call a cross-cultural experience.”
“It’s lovely,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek as she broke off a piece of a Crunchie bar and brought it to his lips.
Hermione was impressed with the way Theo managed to operate the projector. He noticed her watching him, and his face colored once again. “I like to read Muggle manuals,” he mumbled. “It’s interesting to learn how things work– what their technology is like.”
Gods, she loved him.
The opening sequence of the movie began, and Theo leaned forward, eyes aglow with excitement. “I’ve actually never seen a Muggle film before,” he admitted. “I’m quite excited, honestly.”
“I hope it lives up to your expectations– it is a Christmas film, but it’s rather serious. It deals with some intense things,” she admitted. “I really had no business watching it as a child.” Hermione smiled at the memory, despite the heavy nature of the film.
When they reached the scene where George Bailey stood on the bridge, about to end his life, Theo sucked in a breath. “Damn. You weren’t kidding– this is intense.”
“I know,” she said, beginning to get teary-eyed. “I forgot this film always makes me cry. I’ve been doing far too much of that recently.” He squeezed her hand.
They chatted throughout the movie, but Theo was mostly rapt with attention. She even heard him gasp a few times, and she smiled when she caught him laughing. “Is this really how Americans talk?” He asked.
“No,” she giggled. “I mean, maybe back when this movie was filmed. But not now.”
When the film came to an end, Hermione could see it had affected Theo. “Muggles might be onto something,” he said, and she swore she could see the faintest hint of tears in his eyes. “Damn. That was– I think I need a few days to process that,” he said, huffing a laugh.
“It’s a beautiful story, isn’t it? Thank you again, Theo. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever watch this movie again– I wouldn’t have wanted to do it by myself, and I didn’t think any of my friends would be interested. It makes me feel closer to them– to my parents. I miss them,” she admitted, tears springing to her eyes again.
“I know you do,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to her hand, and he let the words sit there. Not trying to give her false hope, not trying to force her to be okay. Just being there.
“I love you,” she said, just to say the words aloud again. It felt like a little shimmer of magic.
Theo seemed to think so too, because she watched him shiver just the slightest bit as she said them. “I love you, Hermione. I never thought I’d be able to tell you.” He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing if he should say what he wanted to. “Could I give you one of your Christmas presents now?”
She nodded at him, eyes wide. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Hermione sucked in a breath as she opened it. Inside the box was a beautiful, intricate gold locket engraved with the initials L.V.S.
“It’s beautiful, Theo,” she said. “What are these letters?”
“It was my mother’s,” he said quietly, and Hermione felt her chest tighten.
“Theo– I can’t accept this,” she said, overwhelmed by the gesture.
“Please, Hermione. I want you to have it. She’d want you to have it, I think,” Theo replied.
Hermione looked at him then, her heart overflowing with tenderness. She was blown away. To give her something like this– he was trusting her, wasn’t he? Trusting her with a part of his life that she knew little about. A part of his grief. He was looking at her with such sincerity, such naked vulnerability and adoration that it almost physically hurt her to look at him.
“Will you tell me about her?” Hermione asked at last, her fingers tracing the letters. “What was her name?”
He smiled slightly. “Her maiden name was Shafiq. The letters on the locket stand for Leila Victoria Shafiq. My mother's parents were both Pureblood– her mother’s family was from Syria, and her father was English. Her mother, from what I understand, was progressive and open-minded– she taught my mother to accept everyone regardless of their blood status or how much money they had. Her father had a more rigid view of the world– although, not quite as bad as my father. When she was eighteen, she was betrothed to my father. Her father- my grandfather, felt that the Shafiqs and the Nott family were tightly aligned in their beliefs, and he decided it would be advantageous for both families to bind their legacies,” he said bitterly.
Hermione was hanging on every word he said, her eyes wide as she listened, hand clasped in his.
“My mother tried to reject the marriage. She begged her father not to do it, but he forced her hand. As you very well know, my father was not a kind man. He was cold and cruel to my mother in every instance I can remember. She lived under his thumb in every sense– he controlled everything she did. Even when I was a child, he had to control every little decision she made, all the interactions she had with me. Some of this I’ve learned from the house elves– I was so angry when she died and I had no one else to talk to about it,” he said, and Hermione’s gut twisted at the thought.
Hermione gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and he continued, his jaw set and brow furrowed. “She used to go behind his back all the time. She’d read me Muggle stories, she took me to playgrounds and let me play with Muggle-born children. I remember her telling me ‘no matter what your father tells you, your blood is the same as anyone else’s.’ It’s almost like she knew she wouldn’t be around forever, so she tried to impress those things upon me in the time we had. She brought me with her everywhere. I remember her slipping into my bedroom to sleep with me every night. I used to cling to her dress when she worked in her garden– honestly, I’m surprised my father allowed her to do that at all, but I could tell how happy it made her,” Theo said, smiling weakly.
“She was kind to everyone she met, and my father hated it. I remember them arguing all the time. My mother would tell me to go hide in my room but I could still hear everything– I hated the way he talked to her. Hated the way he hurt her. I still don’t even know what they argued about the night she died, but I know it had something to do with me. It almost always did,” he said.
Hermione braced herself for what was coming next, and she hated the guilt she saw in his eyes. As if there was anything he could have done. As if any of this were his fault. “The last thing I heard her say was that she was going to take me and leave him. When I heard her say that, I ran out of my room and looked over the bannister. They were standing at the bottom of the stairs, so I saw everything– I saw him kill her. I saw her– fuck,” he said, his voice breaking.
“Theo– you don’t have to keep going. I don’t want to make you– this is painful to remember, I can see that” Hermione said, feeling like she was about to cry.
“It’s okay, Hermione. I know it’s intense– but I want you to know about her. I don’t want to keep anything from you,” he said, his eyes pleading.
She nodded, and he continued. “I saw her die, and I just stood there at the top of the stairs watching it happen. I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he said numbly. “I hate that it’s my last memory of her– the way she looked laying there. I wish I could forget it. But at the same time, it helps me remember how much I hate my father. How much of a fucking monster he is. Killing my mother wasn’t enough, apparently– he had to make my life a living hell, too. He could just sense that I was like her– that I didn’t agree with the bullshit he spouted. I’ll never forgive myself for not doing something– for not at least saying goodbye to her.”
“You know there’s nothing you could have done, right?” Hermione said gently, stroking his hair. “You were a child, Theo. Practically a baby. I can understand why you might feel guilty, but I don’t think she’d want you holding onto that, do you?”
Theo looked at her sadly. “I know you’re probably right. It’s getting better– with Healer Caldwell, I’m starting to talk about it more. He’s helping me understand the way it affected me– the way I’ve been carrying it, that’s what he calls it. I really wish you could have met her, Hermione. I think you would have loved her, and she would’ve loved you.”
Hermione kissed his cheek, lingering there for a few extra seconds. “I do too, Theo. But you know, I’ve always wondered how you turned out the way you did. How you managed to grow into such a kind, empathetic person– you couldn’t be more different from your father. And hearing you talk about your mother like this, it’s starting to make sense to me. I think maybe that was her legacy, Theo– you are her legacy. I think if she saw you now she would be so incredibly proud of who you are, of what you’ve overcome.”
She could see the way her words were affecting Theo. He inhaled sharply, resting his head in his hands for a moment. “Damn, Hermione. Thank you. That’s just– how do you always know exactly what to say?”
Leaning in to kiss him, Hermione felt closer to him than she ever had– like she had just discovered a new layer of intimacy, a new kind of love she didn’t know existed. His lips brushed hers softly, seeking comfort, and she gave it to him.
He pulled back. “Can I put it on you?” He asked shyly. She smiled and nodded, and he lifted her hair up to drape the chain around her, his fingers brushing the back of her neck as he fastened the clasp. “I only found out this existed about a year ago,” he said. “My grandmother– her mother, left it to me in her will. Apparently my mother asked her to hold onto it and ensure that I only got it when I came of age, so my father couldn't do anything to stop it. When I got it, there was a note from my mother with it. Do you want to read it?”
Hermione nodded, her heart beating wildly. He was giving her so much– sharing something so precious, so private. He handed her a roll of parchment, and she unrolled it.
My Theodore,
I hope that I will be the one to give this locket to you, but if for some reason I am not there to see you turn seventeen, please know that I wish nothing more but to be there for you.
I’m sorry if I haven’t been there to watch you grow up. To protect you. You are full of so much goodness and light, and I pray that is never taken from you. I know you are capable of great things, and I trust you will know that when the time is right. My hope is that someday, you will pass this locket along to someone you truly love. When you find that person, the one who makes your heart feel full and gives you the courage to be the very best version of yourself, give this to them. Just remember that this is more than a piece of jewelry—it’s a symbol of the love that is and will always be a part of you. When you give it away, give it with the full understanding that love, above all else, is the legacy you carry.
I’m proud of you, Theo, more than you can ever know. And wherever you go, my heart will be with you, guiding you through it all.
-Your Mother
Hermione looked up from the parchment, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Theo,” was all she could manage. She felt like her heart could crack in two just from looking at him, from knowing how strongly he must feel about her to give her something like this. He looked so vulnerable, so trusting, despite the cruelty he’d endured.
His eyes searched hers, and she could see that he was beginning to feel anxious, beginning to worry that he’d shown her too much of himself. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share this with me,” she whispered, smoothing the lines of worry from his face with her thumb. “I’m honoured, Theo. And I love you. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
She felt his shoulders relax as he leaned into her touch. “I still can’t believe I’m here with you,” he said, his voice tight. “I can’t believe I haven’t fucked this up yet.” He was still holding onto that fear, still letting it hold him back from her. She wanted to break those ties, to let him know she wasn’t going to hurt him, that he could let go and just be with her.
Hermione grabbed his face, pulling it towards her. She parted her lips eagerly to meet him, her head spinning at the electricity that shot through her body as his mouth met hers. “I love you,” she mumbled against him.
Her hands moved down past his neck, pressing against his chest, his muscles taut through his jumper. Hermione dipped a hand underneath, desperate to get closer and then gasping at the warmth of his bare skin against her fingertips, at the feeling of his firm stomach. “Take this off?” He did, eyes dark as he threw it to the floor.
She ached to explore him further, to taste every last inch of his body. Pulling away from the kiss, she pressed her mouth against his neck, using her mouth and tongue to mark him everywhere she could. He jerked slightly and let out a breathy moan, and Hermione exulted in the fact that no one but her had ever touched him like this, had ever elicited those sounds from him. She pulled back, looking him in the eye. “I need to– I want to make you feel good, Theo. I want to show you how much I love you. Can I?”
His eyes searched hers, confusion and hesitancy in his face. “What do you– I don’t know how to make you feel good yet, though– Hermione,” he pleaded.
“Theo,” she said firmly, feeling determined. “I promise, I’ll show you how to take care of me. But please, let me do something for you. It would– this would make me feel good.” She leaned in to kiss him again, dropping her mouth down to his cheek, his jaw, down his chest. She paused when she reached his abs, her breath tickling his skin. She reached down and rested her hand between his legs, feeling him hard against her. Breathing against the bulge in his trousers, she licked her lips and looked up at him then, tilting her head. “Is this okay? If it’s too much, you can tell me.”
“Are you sure? You’re going to–” Theo’s eyes were wide as she nodded to indicate that yes, she wanted to do this. “Yes, Gods, of course it’s okay– but I’m not going to, uh… I doubt I’ll last very long.”
Hermione smiled. “Then I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, pulling his waistband down. “Try to relax and enjoy it. Don’t worry about anything except how it feels, okay?”
She could feel his breath coming rapidly as he watched her. Pulling his briefs down past his ankles, she climbed over him until she rested between his legs. Hermione admired him then, eyes roving over his length. “Damn, Theo,” she said earnestly, and his face flushed at the compliment. Without hesitation, she began to lick him from the bottom to the tip, glancing up to see him drop his head back against the couch, groaning at the sensation. She took him into her mouth then, relishing in every inch of him, of the taste of him against her tongue.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his hand reaching down to stroke her hair. She moaned at the touch, and the vibration of her voice against his cock caused his body to twitch under her. Hermione began to move her head up and down, slowly at first but then picking up speed as she continued to take him in her mouth. As she worked, she found herself aroused, craving the friction of something between her legs. Continuing her rhythm, she reached into her knickers and began to rub herself, surprised to find herself closer to the edge than she would’ve expected.
“Hermione– I can’t– I think I’m close,” he said breathlessly, his eyes fixed on her. She nodded at him, encouraging him to give into the feeling, to let himself go. She felt him shudder slightly, and he tried to pull away, but she held him firmly with her mouth, looking into his eyes. His eyes widened at what she was telling him to do, and when he finally let go, she watched his face, finally coming undone with a moan herself, as she felt him spurt into her mouth, letting the warm liquid slide down her throat.
When she pulled away, he snatched her up and pulled her onto his chest, pressing kisses on her head. “Holy fucking shit,” he said, his face flushed with pleasure. “That was… damn, Hermione. That was incredible. Fuck. I think I just fell even more in love.”
She’d never seen him look so relaxed, so utterly at peace. So satiated. She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face as she looked at him. They lay there on the sofa until they both drifted into blissful slumber, tangled in each other’s limbs, too exhausted and content to move to their bedrooms. It was the best Christmas Hermione had in years.