Chapter 21
Hermione
The sun was rising as Hermione awoke, the orange and pink hues casting a soft glow over Theo's features, highlighting the sharpness of his jawline, casting a warm glow over his bare chest as he lay sleeping beside her, oblivious to the morning light. Hermione loved watching him as he slept. She loved how boyish he looked, how he clung to her even when he wasn’t fully conscious. One of his hands rested on her stomach as if the rise and fall of her breathing had lulled him to sleep, and the other rested under her neck, his fingers tangled in her hair. He was turned towards her, the sheets twisted around his legs, one of them thrown out haphazardly. As she studied him, she wondered if he’d had any nightmares last night. Surely, it would have woken her, right? It made her chest ache, the thought of him waking up in his room after dreaming of his father, alone and terrified. She couldn’t pretend it didn’t frustrate her– to know he had been suffering in silence, feeding her half-arsed excuses about not feeling well, refusing to let her in. Why was he so intent on shutting her out? What was he so afraid of? He knew how she felt about him. She thought about Malfoy’s advice to her, what felt like years ago. “ He has to trust that you’re not afraid of who he is.” Hadn’t she proven that to him? Couldn’t he let her in now? Didn’t he know he didn’t have to be alone?
She gently ran her fingers through his hair, careful not to wake him. Careful not to disturb the peaceful state he was in, looking more relaxed than she’d seen him in days. And as she touched him, she saw it– almost imperceptible, the slightest movement– he flinched. Not enough to wake himself up, but it was there. It left something cold in Hermione’s chest, as she realized that no, he couldn’t let her in, at least not all the way, at least not yet. But he was doing his best, she thought, and it made her eyes sting with tears. Hermione had the uncanny feeling that they were only scratching the surface– that there was more pain in Theo than she could even bring herself to imagine. Should it scare her? She thought maybe it should, but it didn’t. It only strengthened her resolve. It only made her want to love him more, to show him she would never abandon him, no matter how ugly things were. What had his father done to him? Of course, she knew bits and pieces, but Hermione was too smart not to know there was a tangled mess of scars and memories buried deep within him, waiting to be uncovered—things too monstrous for words, things that would take more than just love to heal.
Theo’s instinct to hide his pain from her– to retreat deeper into himself, it was something he must have learned. He’d never had a safe place to land– she knew Malfoy was a good friend to him, but they were boys, and boys didn’t confess their deepest pains to each other, didn’t cry on each other’s shoulders. At least, not the boys that she knew. He’d had his mother, for a short time, but after that– who could Theo go to when he was scared? When he was in pain? No one . Hermione knew loneliness well, but she’d always had people she could go to if she needed it. Not to say that she would always do it, but she could think of at least ten people who she could turn to in a crisis, who would be there to support her unquestioningly. Hermione knew she couldn’t shoulder all of Theo’s pain alone– he wouldn’t ask her to, anyways. She was comforted by the fact that Healer Caldwell knew about his nightmares, that he was getting in the habit of reaching out for help when he needed it, even if it wasn’t always to her.
And yet, deep down, Hermione felt a quiet determination settle within her. She couldn’t fix him, she knew that—she wouldn’t try to. But she was ready to be there, beside him, every step of the way. Whatever his past had taken from him, she believed in his ability to build something new. Together, they would find a way forward, and she would be the steady hand to guide him through the days that felt too heavy. Hermione knew there would likely be times he would try to shut her out again, but she was ready to stop him. Ready to push through his walls, because she knew he needed her to. She trusted that, in time, he would be strong and steady for her, too— in some ways, he already was– that they would learn how to lean on each other, not to fix but to simply be. In that quiet partnership, there was a power of its own. Hermione felt such an overwhelming love for him in that moment– for the boy who slept peacefully beside her, who had been quietly fighting demons his whole life, who had watched her since he was twelve, who had loved her from afar. She remembered how he’d reacted the first time she touched him, just laying a hand on his shoulder– how he’d flinched and then shivered, his eyes pleading her not to stop. Touch-starved . The way he hadn’t believed her when she told him she loved him, how he didn’t think it was possible. How he’d been so afraid to touch her, worried that he would ruin things, terrified of her rejection. Good Godric, she loved him. She wanted to love all of that anguish out of him, wanted to smooth the worried lines from his forehead, wanted to cover him in her warmth until he started to believe he was worthy. That he was good.
Hermione had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even noticed Theo’s eyes, now open and watching her curiously. Neither of them spoke for a moment, just staring at each other, as if the simple act of seeing one another was enough. There was no rush, no need to break the stillness. In that moment, everything was perfect—just the gentle, shared rhythm of breathing. And then Hermione closed the distance between them, her lips grazing Theo’s, her hands gently running through his hair, pulling his head closer to hers. Soft and slow, drinking each other in, relishing in the sweet silence of the moment, of the sun just beginning to rise in the sky– in the knowledge that they had nowhere to be today but here, that they could leave yesterday’s hurt feelings and complicated decisions at the door, at least for now. There was nothing hurried in the way they kissed each other, and each kiss was warm, delicate, like kindling to a fire.
She took her time, slowly moving down his neck, using her tongue, teeth, lips, anything to make him feel good. He shivered underneath her, his hands palming her ass, gripping her. Finally she climbed on top of him, his briefs and her knickers already thrown to the floor from last night. Hermione was ready for him, but she took his fingers in her mouth and sucked on them anyways before guiding them inside of her, moaning as she rocked against them. Theo was staring at her wide-eyed, the way he always did– mesmerized, in awe. She thought of the way he always talked her through sex– how he praised her, how he swore himself to her– like he knew exactly what she wanted to hear. Now it was her turn.
Straddling him, she reached for his cock and guided it inside her, lowering herself onto him, inch by glorious inch. Gods, it felt incredible. Theo groaned, his hands finding her hips. She pulled off her t-shirt and tossed it to the side, keeping her eyes on him. As she began to grind against him, she reached down and placed both hands on his cheeks. His expression was so open, so pure.
“I’m in love with you, Theo,” she said, finally breaking the silence. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shushed him with her finger on his lips. “I’m yours. Do you understand me?”
He nodded, open-mouthed, his green eyes fixed on her. “I love you. I love every single part of you,” she breathed, still moving her hips up and down.
“There is no part of you I don’t want. I’m going to take care of you, and you’re going to let me,” she panted. “And you’re going to take care of me, too.”
“Okay,” he said, his voice raspy. His eyes were pools of longing, of hunger. She kissed him, her breasts grazing his bare chest, and he surprised her by flipping her over onto her back, pulling out of her. Before she could protest, he was crawling between her legs, his fingers entering her once again. “You said I could use my mouth,” he said, something like mischief in his eyes.
Hermione looked at him wide-eyed. No one had ever done that to her before, and she was nervous, she found. “I’m– I haven’t showered since yesterday,” she said weakly. She wasn’t sure why.
“Even better,” he muttered almost a growl, and Hermione’s jaw dropped. Who was this man? “Tell me what feels good,” he begged. She took a deep breath and nodded, and then his mouth was on her, his tongue lapping her eagerly, licking up, up, slowly. And Merlin, it was incredible. Much better than her hand, or even his hand. She let out a whimper and he hummed against her. “Good?” He asked, pulling away for just a moment, his lips and chin slick with her juices.
She stared at him. “Yes,” she whispered, and that was all he needed before his mouth was back on her. As it turned out, he needed very little direction– he was so eager, so hungry for her. He seemed to know exactly when she wanted more pressure, a quicker rhythm, when to run his tongue along her clit. Like he could read her body’s cues without her needing to speak. Hermione found herself grinding against his tongue, chasing her orgasm, lost in the feeling of his mouth on her. And when she came undone, her walls spasming around his tongue, he cupped her ass with both hands, greedily pulling her to him– she wondered how he could even breathe.
When he pulled away, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, grinning boyishly at her. Hermione’s cheeks were still flushed and she knew her hair was probably a tangled mess, but he planted a kiss on her lips. “So fucking beautiful,” he said. She kissed him back, tasting herself on him, and reached for his cock once again. He leaned over her, pressing himself inside of her and her legs hooked around him, her hands still pressed against his cheeks.
“That was so fucking hot,” he groaned as he thrust into her. “I almost came when you did.”
The thought sent a pleasant flutter down Hermione’s body. “Really?” She asked.
“Gods, yes, Hermione. I can’t believe I get to do that to you. I can’t believe I’m yours,” Theo said.
“You’re mine,” Hermione said for some reason. She liked the way it sounded, and apparently so did he, because he groaned. “You’re mine, and I love you,” she said, and then he came, his hips twitching, his forehead dropping to hers as he panted.
They fell asleep again afterwards, then woke up and made love again. There was something indulgent in the way they lazed in bed, hands never leaving each other’s bodies. Hermione dreaded leaving her dormitory for some reason, as if stepping out of this room would force them both to confront something ugly. Finally, after what felt like hours, she sighed and sat up.
“We should probably go eat something,” she muttered.
“We should,” Theo echoed, looking at her apprehensively.
“You know we aren’t done talking about all this,” she said hesitantly. “About your father. About the inheritance visit.”
Theo’s face darkened. “I know,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “Right. Okay then,” she said as she stood and dressed for breakfast.
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The following weekend, Hermione sat cross-legged on the grass, the early Spring breeze rustling through the trees around her. Theo laid on his back across from her, propped up by his elbows and staring across the Black Lake.
“You’re avoiding eye contact,” she pointed out. She didn’t know why– it was obnoxious of her.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, turning to face her.
“It’s fine,” she sighed. “I don’t want to fight either. But we have to keep talking about this. We can’t just pretend it’s not a problem.”
“Okay,” he said, almost sullenly. Like a child. “Then talk.” Coming from anyone else it would have sounded nasty, but from Theo it just sounded… sad.
Hermione tried a different approach. Reaching for his hand, she placed a kiss on his knuckles. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Theo closed his eyes. “The same thing I’m always thinking. That if I don’t go and see him, I’m only screwing myself over. And you. And our family– if we choose to have one,” he added quickly, turning pink.
It was the first time either of them had mentioned it, but Hermione knew they’d both thought about it. Children were a distant thought for her right now, but she knew she wanted them someday. Knew she wanted them with Theo.
“I hear you,” she said softly. Trying not to let the anger creep in. Not at him, never at him. None of this was his fault, she knew. “But I worry that he’ll find another way to hold it over you, even after you go see him. How do you know he’ll be willing to just hand the money over?”
“It’s written in the terms of his will,” Theo said quietly. “I have to go visit him once and then the inheritance will be turned over to me.”
“And you trust him to keep to his word?” Hermione pressed. She hated that she had to ask him these questions, but it was necessary.
“Of course not,” Theo gritted out. “I don’t trust anything he says. But I won’t know until I go and see him.”
Hermione sighed. This was a losing battle, she thought. He was determined to go, determined to face his father– and even if she somehow managed to talk him out of it, he’d resent her. She was sure of it. “Will you let me come with you?” She already knew what the answer would be, but she had to ask.
Theo looked at her, horrified. “ Hermione . Absolutely not.”
“Why not, though? I can handle myself. I’ve faced your father before– in the Department of Mysteries. I stunned him– did you know that?”
Theo’s eyebrows raised. “You’ve never told me that. Brave witch. Good for you,” he grinned, but then his expression turned grim. “I know you can handle yourself, Hermione. Of course I know that. It’s just– I don’t want him anywhere near you. I don’t want him to lay eyes on you. He’s like a poison, Hermione. It’s just– you’re the only thing in my life that’s good. Untainted. Please, if you love me you’ll stay the fuck away from him.”
Hermione was taken aback by his urgency. “Okay, okay. But will you let Malfoy come with you, at least? Even if he doesn’t sit in on the visit, I’d feel better if you had someone waiting for you when you get out.”
Theo grimaced but nodded in agreement. “Alright.”
“And the date?” She asked, almost wishing she hadn’t. She didn’t want to know.
“April fifteenth,” he said, running his hands through his hair.
Her stomach flipped. “Why so soon?”
Theo shrugged. “I dunno. To get it over with. It’s the first date his solicitor proposed, so I accepted. I'm sorry, Hermione. I know you don't understand, and I hate making you unhappy. I really do."
Hermione shivered. "I know." Theo pulled her close. She felt stiff. Three more weeks, she thought. Three more miserable weeks of waiting, and then who knew what would happen afterwards? Regardless, she would be there, she reminded herself. He was hers, and she was his. And she would be there.
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“‘Mione,” said the familiar voice of her best friend. He’d found her in the common room, curled into a corner armchair, tucked away from view. He must’ve been looking for her.
“Can I sit?” Harry asked hesitantly, gesturing to the chair beside her.
“Of course,” she said, trying to force a smile. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Harry frowned. “Are you okay? You’ve been a bit off recently.”
Hermione sighed. Of course he would notice. She'd been quiet, moody. Avoiding Harry and Ron. Even avoiding Theo, sometimes. It just hurt too much. She didn’t know why she hadn’t talked to her friends about any of this– Theo hadn’t asked her to keep it a secret, and she knew he wouldn’t mind if she talked to Harry about it. “I suppose I have,” she said sadly. “It’s just...Theo.”
And then she was telling him everything, pouring her heart out about how worried she was, how unfair everything was, how much she wished Theo would forget about the blasted visit and stay here with her. Safe. Out of his father’s grasp. Then she was crying a little, Harry listening patiently, offering her reassuring pats, sympathetic nods and noises.
When she was finally finished, he smiled sadly at her. “That’s rough, ‘Mione. I’m sorry. For you and for Nott. But–” he looked slightly pained. “But I get it. I get why he feels like he needs to sit down with his father.”
Hermione looked at him uncertainly, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. “Do you, now?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Harry said, but his tone was gentle. “I dunno, maybe it’s a battered child thing,” he joked, and Hermione shot him a dark look. “Sorry. But really. Y'know, I realize I didn’t have it nearly as bad as Nott, but if I got the chance to sit across from the Dursleys and tell them how awful they were, I’d do it. Money aside.”
She pondered. “But what if he does go in there and tell his father how awful he is, and then he turns around and withholds his inheritance? All of it will have been for nothing. I don’t even see why he wants the money in the first place.”
“That’s not fair, Hermione,” Harry said. “Look– you, me, and Ron, we all came out of the war very much unscathed. In fact, we’re war heroes . The three of us will probably get many job offers. We'll be able to skate by on just our names alone, as odd as that is. But Nott, even though he didn’t do anything to deserve it– he’s going to be met with a lot of skepticism. A lot of prejudice. You have to realize that, right?”
“I guess so,” Hermione admitted. She hadn’t wanted to think about it– had wanted to believe the future was full of possibilities for Theo, just as it was for her.
“Right. So can’t you understand why he might want a nest egg–” he cut off when she gave him a look, indicating it was much more than just a nest egg. “ – to have just in case he can’t find a job? Imagine what that would do to him, ‘Mione. To be totally financially reliant on you, to not be able to help provide. It’s bloody scary, being an adult– Gin and I have talked about the future, too. And I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I couldn’t give her what she needs.”
“I definitely didn’t think you’d be on Theo’s side,” Hermione said, half-teasing. “But thank you, Harry. I get it. I’m just worried for him. His father– he really did a number on him. And with this awful meeting lurking around the corner, it’s all I can think about. All he can think about. We just sit around and swap existential dread,” she said, a smile barely ghosting her lips.
“Maybe you two need to do something to take your mind off it?” Harry suggested.
Hermione looked at him in disbelief. “Harry that’s hardly–”
“Godric, Hermione! I didn’t mean that .” Harry’s face was scarlet. “No, I was thinking more along the lines of doing something fun. Er, with us. With your friends. Both of you.”
Hermione eyed him cautiously. “What did you have in mind?”
Her concern mounted when Harry grinned at her, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You’ll see.”
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Hermione was fast asleep, her head tucked against Theo’s chest, when she was abruptly shaken awake.
“Hermione! Wake up,” someone whispered, and she squinted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Ginny?” She asked, confused. Theo stirred, his eyes widening when they landed on the redhead standing in front of Hermione's bed.
“Ginevra? What the hell–”
“How do you still manage to call me that, even when you’re half asleep?” Ginny hissed. “Anyways, get up, you two. We’ve got things to do.”
“What are you on about? What time is it?” Hermione grumbled, already pushing herself out of bed. Irked as she was about being disturbed from her sleep, she knew better than to argue with Ginny.
“Don’t worry about it. And for Godric’s sake, Theodore, put some clothes on,” Ginny whispered. “What if I were McGonagall? That would be bloody embarrassing.”
“Why would McGonagall be breaking into my room at– twelve thirty on a Thursday night?” Hermione grumbled as she dressed, pulling on a sweatshirt and denims.
"Mm, I dunno. To spice up her late-night rounds?" Ginny grinned impishly. Hermione threw a shoe at her.
Once they were dressed, Ginny grabbed them both by the arms, throwing Harry’s Invisibility Cloak over them. “Let’s go,” she whispered. “Everyone else is already waiting!”
Hermione and Theo turned to look at each other, both wondering what the hell they were being dragged into. Finally, once they had left the castle and were walking into the Quidditch pitch, Ginny removed the cloak. Hermione looked around, taking in the bizarre scene in front of her. There was a large blanket laid across the field, Malfoy, Ron, and Harry stretched out on it.
“Evening, you two. Fancy a drink?” Ron asked, tossing them a bottle of Firewhiskey.
Theo caught it. “Anyone care to tell us what the hell is going on?” He said, but unscrewed the cap and took a pull.
“Just a bit of pre-graduation antics,” Ron replied.
Theo eyed him suspiciously. “Graduation isn’t for another two and a half months,” he said.
“Ah, is that right? We must’ve gotten our dates mixed up,” Malfoy said. “A strange little birdy,” he glanced at Harry, “may have told us that the two of you needed some cheering up. So here we are.”
Hermione smiled. She really couldn’t be angry. “We’ll be caught though,” she said.
“Nah,” Harry said, grinning. “We might’ve dosed Filch with a bit of sleeping potion. And besides, we’ve cast Notice-Me-Nots. Even if we did get caught, you know McGonagall has a soft spot for me.”
She really couldn’t argue with that. Rule-follower Hermione would be appalled, but the Hermione that had survived a war and taken down Lord Voldemort found it all strangely thrilling.
“Right,” she said, turning to Theo with a smile. “You going to share?” She gestured to the bottle. He raised his eyebrows as she took it from him and drank. Merlin , it burned. But it felt good, somehow. The air was slightly chilly but not cold, and the sky was stretching out above them, full of stars. She yanked Theo down beside her, and noticed he was smiling too– that he was feeling the magic in the air as well.
Two hours later, she was laying on the blanket, propped up on her elbows with Theo’s head in her lap, trying to hold back the giggles that threatened to overtake her as she listened to Ron’s story.
“You stole a car?” Theo asked, incredulous.
“Not exactly– it was my parents’ car,” Ron mumbled.
"Mum truly contemplated murdering you. If she wasn't so enamoured with Harry I don't think you would have made it to eighteen," Ginny said.
"We barely made it to eighteen even without Molly's interference," Harry joked.
"The whole lot of us barely made it to eighteen, Potter," Malfoy said. "Sorry- back to the whole stealing a car thing. Your parents own a Muggle car, Weasel?"
“It was a flying car!” Hermione chimed in.
Malfoy and Theo stared at her. “So you stole a flying car to break Potter out of his Muggle jail cell?” Malfoy asked.
“It wasn’t a–” Harry started, then shrugged. “Actually, it did have bars on the windows. And my Uncle Vernon was rather warden-like. But believe it or not, that’s not even the wildest part.”
Hermione giggled. “Right, don’t forget about Dobby sabotaging you. Or the Whomping Willow.”
“Of course not,” Ron said. “That tree has been on these grounds for centuries! Not to mention you could have been killed!” He imitated McGonagall’s voice, high pitched and nasal.
Malfoy looked astonished. “That was you two? There were branches everywhere. You’re telling me two twelve-year-olds drove a flying car into the Whomping Willow? I suppose I can’t argue with the nickname anymore. You really are The Boy Who Lived.”
"It's a miracle I did live, with Ron behind the wheel," Harry said.
"Oh I'm sorry, did all of you learn how to drive before you even hit puberty?" Ron shot back.
"You don't know how to drive now, Ronald," Ginny patted his knee. "And as for puberty- we're all still holding out hope that you're just a late bloomer."
Hermione felt tears of laughter in her eyes, imagining a twelve-year-old Ron behind the wheel, no-doubt panicking the way he did back then, his voice cracking with every word. Theo looked at her, smiling. “And where were you during all this?”
“Probably homework,” muttered Ron, at the same time that Malfoy said “In the library.”
They all laughed. It was surreal, laying here under the stars, mere months away from graduating. Surrounded by her best friends, along with her childhood nemesis and a boy who she’d never even spoken to for most of her time at Hogwarts– who was now everything to her. Theo seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he pulled Hermione closer, kissing her temple. She tilted her head up to look at him, smiling at the carefree expression on his face, the way his features were relaxed. Harry had been right, she thought. They had both needed this. Maybe they’d all needed it. The future was uncertain, still shaped by all the things they hadn’t yet faced. But tonight, the weight of everything slipped away, and they were all content to bask in the weight of their shared memories—the good, the bad, and everything in between. There was something comforting in the way they’d all grown, in the shared history between them, even if it hadn’t been an easy one. For now, that was enough.