Chapter 20
Theo
Theo was small, far smaller than he remembered himself being, his feet barely touching the cold marble floor of the dark, unfamiliar room. It looked like a room in Nott Manor, cold and empty, but not one he recognized. Shadows stretched across the walls like creeping vines, twisting and undulating with every flicker of the weak light that barely bled through the thick, velvet curtains.
His father was standing at the far end of the room, tall and imposing, his presence filling every inch of space. Theodore Nott Sr.’s figure loomed like a stormcloud, casting a cold, suffocating shadow. Theo could barely see his face, but he could feel the weight of those cold, calculating eyes upon him.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” his father’s voice was a low, dangerous whisper, and the air seemed to freeze with every syllable. The words weren’t a question—they were an accusation, sharp and heavy, filled with menace.
Theo’s heart pounded in his chest, the sound deafening in his ears. He wanted to say something, to explain, to defend himself—but his mouth felt glued shut. His hands trembled at his sides, and he couldn't help but take a small step back, the floor beneath him cold and unforgiving.
“You disappoint me, Theodore,” Nott Sr. continued, his voice now rising, filling the room with that familiar, suffocating authority. His silhouette was framed by the flickering light, the harsh angles of his face distorted in a way that made Theo's stomach churn. “Weak. Pathetic. Just like your mother.”
Theo flinched at the reminder of her, his eyes welling with tears he refused to let fall– how dare he speak of his mother this way– how dare he speak of her at all? The sting of his father's words cut deeper than any physical blow, and he could feel that all too familiar knot of fear tightening in his chest. He opened his mouth to curse him, reached for his wand to hurl a hex at him, but no sound came out, and there was no wand in his pocket. He was a child again, the same boy who'd cowered in this home, knowing the sharpness of his father's gaze would carve through him until there was nothing left– the same boy who had watched his mother bleed to death in front of him, immobilized by his fear.
Nott Sr. took a step forward, his boots echoing against the marble floor. The space between them seemed to shrink, and Theo felt himself rooted to the spot, too terrified to move, his body frozen under the weight of his father's presence. The air was thick with the scent of old leather, the acrid burn of his father’s dark magic lingering in the corners like an unspoken threat.
"You were supposed to be stronger than this," his father sneered, stepping so close that Theo could feel the anger radiating from his father's body, the coldness of his gaze sinking deeper into him. “You’re nothing more than a disappointment, Theodore. A failure.”
Theo opened his mouth once again, but no sound came out. His throat was tight, his chest heaving in desperate gasps for air, but the pressure in the room crushed him, made every breath feel like it was being drawn through a sieve. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but his father’s shadow was too heavy. There was nothing he could do, nowhere he could hide.
“Look at me!” Nott Sr. demanded, his voice rising with an edge of fury. “Look at your weakness! This is who you will become. I am your future.”
Theo forced his eyes up, but it wasn’t his father’s face he saw anymore. It was a monstrous, contorted version of Nott Sr.—a figure far darker, his eyes glowing with a sick, green fire. The transformation was so stark, so terrifying, that Theo’s stomach churned, and his legs nearly gave out from under him.
And then, in the blink of an eye, the dream shifted. His father’s shadow melted into the dark room around them, and the room, once imposing, now felt infinite, the walls stretching out in every direction. The distant sound of his father's harsh voice echoed, a twisted, hollow sound that felt as though it came from everywhere at once. Theo couldn’t escape it—couldn’t escape him. He was alone, but his father was all around him.
Theo closed his eyes, shutting out the image, the words. The oppressive weight of his father’s presence still hung in the air.
Theo sat up in bed, gasping for air as he steadied himself against the headboard. As he gulped down breaths, he could feel the cold sweat of his nightmare still lingering on his skin, his hair clinging to his forehead He was alone, he remembered, feeling simultaneously relieved and hollow, desperate for Hermione’s warm body pressed against him, reassuring him. Of course, Theo was no stranger to these dreams– his father had managed to torment him even in his sleep for years now, but since he’d been remanded to Azkaban, they’d lessened slightly. And then, since he’d been with Hermione, been seeing Healer Caldwell, they’d become quite rare. However, this was his third nightmare this week– the third time he’d woken in the midst of a panic attack, too wired with adrenaline and fear to fall back asleep, even though he had hours before he needed to be up.
Suddenly feeling dirty somehow, as if his father’s malice had tainted his own body, Theo clambered out of bed and headed for the showers. He stood under the water for well over half an hour, scrubbing himself nearly raw and then leaning his head against the cool tiles, hoping the scalding water could somehow warm the chill he felt in his bones. He missed Hermione. Theo tried not to be too reliant on her, tried not to place his sense of self worth on her, on the way she felt about him– but it was hard not to. Especially when he had to work so damn hard to block out his father’s voice every day, and when her presence seemed to banish it completely. Theo knew he wouldn’t tell her about the dream, and he wasn’t sure if that was healthy or not. Probably not, but he couldn’t take the way he knew she’d look at him, all empathy and concern, her pretty face creased with worry. Not when she sometimes woke with nightmares of her own, shaking and crying as Theo comforted her. Not when some mornings, seemingly out of nowhere, she’d wake up and immediately begin to sob, never explaining why. But Theo knew, and he didn’t ask her to explain. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be open with her– Hermione had seen him at his most vulnerable, just as he had seen her. He trusted her completely, but some things just felt too dark to share, too shrouded in shame, his own self-loathing too tangled up with his hatred towards his father.
However, as Theo stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, he had grown enough to know what would happen if he didn’t share it with anyone– it would fester in him, would grow until it eclipsed everything else, all of his progress forgotten when he gave in to the familiar emptiness. He dressed and sat at his desk, writing a quick message that he owled to Healer Caldwell, asking if they could meet today, even though their next session wasn’t supposed to be until next week. He didn’t realize until after he’d sent the message that it was only five-thirty in the morning. Whoops. To his surprise, a reply came less than thirty minutes later, telling Theo he could see him at seven if he wished.
When Theo entered his office, Caldwell looked at him with appraising eyes, gesturing for him to sit. He flopped into the armchair, one he had become quite familiar with over the last few months.
“Theodore,” Caldwell said, his eyes sincere. Theo didn’t usually wait for the healer to prompt him anymore– to ask “what’s going on?” or something of the sort. He just launched into whatever it was he’d been ruminating on.
“So I’ve been having dreams,” Theo said. “Er, nightmares, I guess.”
Caldwell nodded. “Ah. About your father,” he said, not really a question.
“Yes. Similar to the ones I usually have, although they’re a bit different every time,” Theo replied tapping his foot.
“It’s been a while since you’ve mentioned having a nightmare during our sessions. They’ve increased in frequency, then?”
Theo nodded hesitantly. “I’ve had three this week,” he said quietly. “Bad enough that I’m too jittery to fall back asleep.”
Caldwell’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Three is a lot, Theodore. That must be taking a toll on you.”
“I suppose, yeah,” Theo replied, knowing he was right. He’d been exhausted all week, having difficulty concentrating in class, his appetite decreasing. “Hermione’s noticed it, of course. I told her I just wasn’t feeling well, that maybe I’d caught something.”
“Why did you feel you couldn’t be honest with Hermione about your nightmares?” The healer asked.
“It’s not that I can’t be honest with her. I want to– I just feel too… guilty? Or maybe ashamed. I’m not sure. But I don’t want to worry her, and I don’t want her to have to think about my father. She has enough on her plate as it is,” Theo said, raking his hair back nervously.
“I see,” Caldwell said. “Let me ask you this, Theodore. If Hermione were having nightmares, if she was reliving some of her own painful memories, would you want her to tell you?”
“Of course I would, but it’s diff–” Theo began, but his healer continued.
“And how would you feel if you found out she wasn’t telling you about them? If she thought they would be too great of a burden for you to bear?”
Theo sighed, knowing the man was right. “I see what you’re getting at. I’d be hurt, I guess. I would tell her she didn’t need to deal with anything on her own. But the things that have happened to her– she’s a victim. She’s strong as hell, no doubt about that, but people have done awful things to her. It’s different– it’s not the same as my situation.”
“Theodore, people have done awful things to you, too,” Caldwell said gently. “Your father has done awful things to you. Whether or not you believe this to be true, you are a victim as well– a victim of abuse. You did nothing to deserve that abuse, nothing to bring it on yourself. You were a child. Do you understand that?”
Caldwell’s words made something squirm in Theo’s stomach. He found he couldn’t look the man in the eye. “Right,” he managed, not sure what else to say. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel.
“We don’t have to delve into that right now, unless you’d like to,” the healer offered.
“No. I don’t think I’m quite ready for that conversation,” Theo admitted.
“Okay. I would like to ask you one more thing, though, and you may not like this question either. Do you have any idea why you’re experiencing this sudden uptick in the frequency of your nightmares?” Caldwell asked, placing his hands in his lap as he awaited Theo’s response.
Theo groaned again, dropping his head into his hand as he rubbed his eyes. He’d been hoping to avoid this question, somehow. “I think we both probably know why,” he muttered.
“Let’s get it out in the open then,” Caldwell prodded.
“Fuck me,” he swore, knowing he was being a prick. “Alright. It’s because of that bloody inheritance meeting that’s coming up, isn’t it?”
Caldwell gave him a tight-lipped smile. “That would certainly make sense– the knowledge that you have to see your father again in the near future might cause some of that trauma to resurface.”
Theo felt his shoulders tense at the reminder. “Yeah. I haven’t even told Hermione about it,” he said, feeling guilty.
“And why is that?” Caldwell asked, his tone non-judgemental.
“Um, I dunno. I guess partially because I’ve been trying not to think about it myself. But also because I know it will upset her, and she’ll probably try to talk me out of going,” Theo said.
“Really? Why do you think she wouldn’t want you to go?”
Theo sighed. “Hermione doesn’t care much about money. And she grew up– well, normally. She didn’t have any strange Pureblood traditions she had to learn, or that blasted sense of duty. I don’t think she’s going to understand why I would be willing to meet with him, why it would be worth it.”
Caldwell nodded thoughtfully. “I’d just like to point out that you are again making assumptions about Hermione and how she would respond. But that aside, I’m curious– why is it worth it to you?”
Theo paused. “Well– I mean, it’s more than enough money to last a lifetime, for one thing. But also, I guess I don’t really know if it’s worth it. I’ve gone back and forth in my own head loads of times. Do I really want to be tied to him, even more so than I already am? I’ve thought about what it would be like to tell him to go fuck himself, that he can keep his dark magic-tainted money– and set out on my own. But if it means I could take care of Hermione? She doesn’t have her own parents to fall back on when we leave Hogwarts. We’d both be starting from scratch, with practically nothing to our names.” He hesitated. “But honestly, I don’t know if she’d want me to provide for her like that, especially if it’s with my father’s money. Hermione is so independent and driven– it’s something I love about her.”
Healer Caldwell smiled at him. “I hear you, Theodore. You’re a very thoughtful partner, but it’s also important for you to make this decision for yourself. Regardless of what you decide, open communication is vital to a healthy relationship– the only way to know how Hermione will feel about this is by talking to her.”
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The next few days dragged on at a torturous speed, Theo’s exhaustion and anxiety only increasing. He’d felt better after talking to Caldwell, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk to Hermione about it, and the guilt was almost eating him alive. He told himself there hadn’t been a good time to tell her yet, but he knew he was just making excuses. She was worried– every time they were together, he felt her eyes on him, studying his face in confusion and concern. Each time she asked him if he was okay, he insisted everything was fine, he was just under the weather. He felt like a zombie, going through the motions of going to class, studying with Hermione, even going to bed with her a few times, but he wasn't really present. When she touched his arm, he'd look down and feel like he was watching it happen to someone else. When she pressed herself against him in bed, all he could think about was the cold dread that sat in his stomach. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his father's distorted face, heard his voice. He barely slept, staring at the ceiling for hours on end. He didn't know why he couldn't muster the courage to tell her what was happening in his head- he felt so immersed in it, like he was too far gone to be saved.
At last, the weekend arrived, and with it came a small amount of clarity. Theo resolved that it was time to rip the band-aid off.
Tucked in a corner booth at Three Broomsticks, Theo drank deeply from his butterbeer, grateful for some liquid courage but also wishing he had something a bit stronger. He stared down at his hands, knowing Hermione’s eyes were on him. He took a deep breath, then looked around and cast a quick Muffliato.
“Hermione, I need to–”
“Are you breaking up with me?” She asked, her eyes filled with tears.
Theo was horrified, snapped out of the trance he'd been in for days. “What? Of course not– why would you even say that?”
Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief, but the tears began to spill from her eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me. And when we are together, you act distant and odd. You didn’t even want to have sex the other night. Do you not want me anymore?” she choked, averting her eyes.
Fuck. How had it not occurred to him how his behavior might be perceived by her? “Fucking hell, Hermione. I’m so sorry. I’m an absolute git,” he pleaded, reaching for her hands. She let him take them, her expression filled with hurt. “I love you. So bloody much. I would never dream of breaking up with you, please know that.”
Hermione wiped her eyes, confusion settling onto her features. “Okay…” she said slowly. “Then what in Merlin’s name has been going on with you? And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing. Don’t think for a second I believe you’ve just been under the weather, Theo,” she said, her voice rising a bit.
“I’m sorry. I handled all of this so poorly– I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said, taking a deep breath. “You’re right that it’s not nothing, but it doesn’t have a thing to do with you. It’s about my father.”
“Your father?” Hermione said, and he watched her expression soften. “What’s going on?”
“I should have told you about this a long time ago,” Theo sighed, returning the squeeze of her hand. “As you know, my father will be in Azkaban for the rest of his life. But unfortunately, he wrote into his will that in order for me to have access to my inheritance, I need to visit him and sit down with him, face-to-face.”
He watched his words settle, Hermione’s brow furrowed as she contemplated. “So he’s forcing you to see him if you want the money that should be rightfully yours? What do you think he plans to say?”
Theo sighed. “Yes. It’s very typical of him, unfortunately. He needs something to hold over my head, and he’d never pass up an opportunity to fuck with me. It'll probably be the highlight of his year. I don’t know what he plans to say during this meeting, but I can assure you it won’t be a tender affair between father and son,” he muttered darkly.
Hermione’s eyes were blazing now, the way they did when she sensed some kind of injustice. “That’s vile,” she said bitterly. “I’m so sorry. To hold your inheritance over you like that, as if you owe him anything? He’s using you, Theo—manipulating you even from behind bars.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But what am I supposed to do about it? I could choose not to meet with him and forfeit my inheritance, I guess. Either way, he wins somehow.”
“How would he win if you refuse his terms, though?” Hermione asked.
“Because he’d know I’d be broke. I’m sure he would sleep soundly knowing I wasn’t out there sullying the great Nott name. Except I’d still be stuck with his name, wouldn’t I? People would still lump me in with him, no matter what I did. As soon as they hear Theodore Nott Jr., their opinions are already forming. At least if I had my inheritance I’d have some money to my stupid fucking name– it’d soften the blow a little,” Theo said, his voice laced with anger.
“I get it, Theo,” Hermione said quietly. “It’s a near impossible decision you have to make. And I’ll support you no matter what you choose– but I hate the idea of you having to see him again. After everything he’s done to you… it could really mess with your head, Theo. And you’ve come so far.”
“Yeah. But it’s only a one-time thing, right? I survived over sixteen years of his bullshite. And besides, if you and I– if we’re together after school…” he trailed off, feeling his face redden. He hadn’t planned out how this part of the conversation would go.
“If ?” Hermione asked, her eyebrow raised. “I don’t know about you, Theodore, but I left ‘if’ in the past quite some time ago, when it comes to you. When school ends, I fully intend to be with you. No conditions. No ‘ifs.’”
Theo exhaled, Hermione’s words calming some of his nerves. “Me too, Hermione. I just didn’t want to assume. But anyways– when we’re out of school, I want to be able to take care of you. I want to give you a good life. And I won’t be able to do that if I’m a penniless tosser with family ties to a Death Eater.”
“I love you, Theo. I really do. But I don’t want your desire to take care of me to be a factor in this decision. I will be perfectly content to start from scratch with you– I’ve never given your family’s money a single thought until now. I’m not saying it would be easy, but you can prove people wrong about who you are. You’ve already done it with me, with all of my friends, haven't you?”
He smiled weakly at her. “You have so much faith in me, Hermione. I love you too, and I’m sorry I kept this from you.”
She gave him a firm look. “Right, that reminds me– please don’t do that again. I need you to be honest with me. Why did you think you couldn’t come to me earlier?”
Shame washed over him. “Because I’m an idiot.”
Hermione shot him a look. “Spare me, Theodore.”
Shite, she was cross with him. With good reason, of course. She called people by their full first names when she was angry- he'd noticed it with Ron, and did not enjoy being on the receiving end of it now. “Okay, okay. Part of it was because I was trying not to think about it myself. But I also just didn’t want to worry you. You’ve got plenty of your own stuff and I already feel like a–” he cut himself off.
“A what?” She pressed, still looking frustrated.
“I was going to say a burden, but I thought it’d make you angry,” he muttered.
Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed a breath. “You’ve got to stop with that. We’re in a relationship, Theodore. That means my problems are your problems, and vice versa. If I thought you were a burden, I wouldn’t be dating you. When you assume you know how I’ll feel about something, you’re not even giving me a say– you aren’t being fair to me.”
“That’s exactly what Healer Caldwell said,” Theo mumbled. “You’re right, of course, and I truly am sorry. I’m not used to sharing things like this with someone. And I know it’s stupid, but I want to be strong for you. I do want to take care of you. I feel like you’re always doing that for me, and I hate it.”
“You hate that I take care of you?” Hermione echoed, hurt written all over her face. Fuck, this was not going the way he’d planned at all.
“No, that’s not how I meant it,” he said helplessly. “I feel like I’m saying all the wrong things right now.”
Hermione pressed her forehead into her hands for a moment. “I’m sorry. I think I’m being rather hard on you– I’m still hurt about the way you handled this, Theo. I understand why you didn’t come to me, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. I’ve been walking around the last few days thinking you were planning on breaking up with me, and I didn’t even know why,” she said, and Theo cringed at the way her voice trembled.
“I fucking hate that I made you feel that way. I need to do better, I know. I should have just told you what was going on from the beginning, I should have been honest about the nightmares instead of pretending to be sick– Gods, that was fucking stupid. Please, Hermione, please forgive me,” Theo said, his voice tight with desperation. He needed her to forgive him. He could feel the tension in his body like a bowstring pulled too taut, every muscle coiled and ready to snap. His words tumbled out in a rush, too loud.
“Theo,” Hermione said, touching his arm. “Breathe.”
He obeyed, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. “Better?” She asked, concern mingled with the hurt that was already there. The hurt that he’d caused.
Theo nodded mutely, unsure what to say next. How to fix this mess. He wondered if she was just going to end things here– the thought nearly suffocated him.
“Look at me,” she ordered, and of course, he did. He would’ve hexed himself on the spot if she’d asked. “I’m realizing that you probably haven’t been around many healthy, functional relationships. Is that correct?”
Theo cocked his head. “Er, I suppose not. I can think of very few. Actually, maybe one or two,” he said, thinking for some reason about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. And maybe Ginny and Potter. “Why do you ask?”
“Because, I have a feeling you think you’ve messed things up beyond repair,” she said, looking at him for an answer. He nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue– was that some sort of trick question? He asked himself.
“Theo– you hurt my feelings, yes. I’m upset with you at the moment, but I’m also concerned– about you seeing your father, about the nightmares. You also need to know that regardless of all that, I’m still very much in love with you. I’m not going anywhere, remember? I can be cross with you and that still won't change. Okay?”
Theo wanted to crumble in front of her, at the way she seemed to see right through him, into his very soul. Her voice was calm and steady, seeming to carve through the knots of guilt and fear he'd been carrying around for days. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at her, trying to process the unexpected relief mingling with an ache in his chest.
“Okay,” he said hoarsely, wishing he could say more. But he felt laid bare, vulnerable. He’d fucked up and she was angry with him, but she still wanted to reassure him. It made him feel like the ground beneath his feet was shifting, his emotions swirling in a way he wasn’t used to. Hermione– she was too good. Too kind. Too unbelievably patient with him when he didn’t deserve it. Her love, her care, it felt like an overwhelming tide he wasn’t sure he could ever fully return. He couldn’t help but think that someone like her—someone so pure, so steady—deserved far more than the mess he was, the baggage he carried around. She shouldn’t have to shoulder this. He shouldn’t have made her feel this way at all. Hermione shouldn’t have to put aside her own hurt feelings to tend to his.
“This was so unfair to you,” he finally managed, after what felt like minutes of silence. “I hurt you, and now you’re trying to take care of me. It’s so fucked.”
“It’s fine, Theo,” she said immediately, almost reflexively.
“Don’t say that,” he implored, frowning. “Of course it’s not fine.”
Hermione sighed. “Okay, it’s not fine. But it will be,” she pressed, eyes locked on his. “It will be fine, because I know you’ll never make me feel this way again. I know you, Theo, and I know you’ll learn from this. And I’ll make mistakes too, and you’ll forgive me, and then I’ll learn from them.”
Theo wanted to scoff at her words, at the idea that she could possibly fuck up as badly as he had, but he paused. Hermione was wise beyond her years, intelligent in the most thoughtful way. He wouldn’t insult that intelligence by denying what she’d just said– perhaps she was even right. “You are correct that I will never, ever allow myself to make you feel that way again. And for the record, I missed you when I was stuck in my own head. I don’t want to do that to either of us again.”
Hermione smiled at him, a genuine smile, and it almost knocked the breath out of him. “I missed you, too. And I’m glad to hear that, because I’ve already decided I’m not sleeping alone tonight,” she said, biting her lip.
Gods, he was pathetic for her. He would have crawled on his hands and knees all the way from the dungeons to the Gryffindor tower if it meant she’d allow him into her bed tonight. “Really?” He asked, his heart lifting.
“You think I can resist you after you put on that whole heartbroken, brooding, desperate-for-forgiveness act?” She teased, her eyes glinting.
“It wasn’t an act,” he said honestly, but smiled at her. “I love you, Hermione. And I really am sorry.”
“Say that to me enough times on the walk back and I might consider letting you get in my pants,” she giggled.
Theo’s eyes widened. “Challenge accepted,” he grinned.
As he laid in bed with Hermione that night, her head tucked against his bare chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, Theo felt overwhelmed with something- with a number of things. There was the fear of the looming meeting with his father, the crushing weight of the nightmares that had been haunting him, but there was also something softer, more profound—this quiet, steady feeling of being close to her, of having someone beside him who understood. Who had promised she would love him through whatever challenges awaited them. In the chaos of everything, there was something undeniably calming about having Hermione there, her presence like a steady anchor amidst a sea of uncertainty.
Despite the fear gnawing at his insides, despite the anger and confusion that still bubbled underneath, he knew, somehow, that it would be alright. She was there. She was his, and she wasn’t going anywhere. For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo allowed himself to believe that maybe the future didn’t have to be as dark and uncertain as he’d always feared. She was his light, his anchor, and somehow, that made the unknown feel a little less terrifying.
“Hermione,” he whispered, his fingers laced into her hair.
“Hm?” She tilted her head up to look at him, the stars outside seeming to pale in comparison to the constellation of freckles scattered across her face. He traced his finger along them, wanting to memorize every perfect little mark.
“Thank you,” he said, pressing his lips against her forehead. “I never knew peace until you. Thank you for showing me how good life can be. And for believing in me. You saved me, do you know that?”
Hermione shivered at his words, her eyes shining with tears. “I think you saved me too, though. I didn’t even realize how lonely I was until I met you. I spent so long thinking I could do everything on my own, that I didn’t need anyone. But you– Theo, you’ve made me see things I couldn’t before. You see me, all of me. Not just the parts I like to show the world, but the messy, imperfect bits I keep hidden. And you still love me.”
Theo let her words wash over him, pulling her closer, basking in her warmth. This was what it felt like to be loved, he thought. This was what he’d been missing his whole life. Those were the last things he thought of as he allowed himself to be pulled into sleep, knowing that although the nightmares might await him when he did, he didn’t have to face them alone.