Chapter 24
Theo
A few months later
“You sure you’re ready for this?” Theo asked, glancing down at Hermione.
She bit her lip anxiously. “No, but I can’t keep putting it off.” She stared at the house in front of them. Theo stared too, trying to imagine Hermione growing up here, learning to ride a Muggle bike in the driveway, running in the door with excitement the day she’d gotten her Hogwarts letter, reading under the Oak tree in the backyard.
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right here with you. And if it gets to be too much, we’ll go home, no questions asked. This is going to be a process, Hermione.”
“I know,” she said somberly. “Let’s go.”
They spent four hours in Hermione’s childhood home that day. They stayed downstairs– Hermione wasn’t ready to visit her own bedroom nor her parents’. But even by sticking to the living room, dining room, and kitchen, they had their work cut out for them. They sifted through drawers, bins, and various piles. The goal wasn't to purge her parents' belongings, but to confront the memories, to work through the complicated emotions she might be feeling. At least, that's what Hermione's Healer had said- that this was an important part of her healing process. It was eerie– the Granger home was frozen in time, like its occupants had suddenly up and left without a second thought. Which was basically what had happened, Theo realized. It was strange for him to be digging through their private things, people he'd never met but somehow felt like he knew very well. He worked alongside Hermione at times, but also understood that she’d need some space to process everything they came across. When she found a box labeled Granger Family Photo Albums, he asked if she needed a minute and she nodded.
“Maybe you could go through my dad’s record collection? It’ll be in his office, back behind the dining room. There’s a record player in there too, if you fancy listening to any of them. We could take some home with us if you like them.”
Theo gave her a kiss. “Sounds good. Just call if you need me, love.”
Mr. Granger had an extensive record collection– Theo was thoroughly impressed. Since the day they’d heard live music in Muggle London, he’d taken an interest in Muggle music, and Hermione had been eager to introduce him to it. He was almost finished with the Beatles whole discography, which was astoundingly large, and he’d recently begun listening to Elton John. While he genuinely enjoyed every song he’d heard, Theo found he had a soft spot for Rock and Soul music. He leafed through the records, meticulously organized by alphabetical order. He smiled, thinking Hermione clearly had some things in common with her father. He played a few that sparked his interest, deciding to bring home three– Fleetwood Mac, The Who, and The Police.
On a whim, he picked up another one called “The Very Best of The Righteous Brothers” and placed it on the record player, dropping the needle. The first song came on, and Theo decided he liked it. He was about to take it off the player and slip it back in the sleeve to bring it home when he heard the first chord of the second song. Something about the note, the way the singer came in immediately with the first words– “Woah, my love, my darling,” made his chest constrict. His breath caught in his throat, fingers stilling over the sleeve as the song washed over him. The voice was raw, aching, pulling something deep from within him. The slow, sweeping melody curled around him like a memory he’d never lived, filling the space with a longing so tangible it pressed against his ribs. He almost wanted to cry. He stopped the song and called to Hermione.
“What is it?” She asked as she entered the room. He could see she’d been crying.
“Come here,” he said softly, pulling her close. “I think I found our first dance. Can I– do you want to hear it?”
She nodded, and he dropped the needle again, starting the song over. It began again, reaching for him the way it had before, wrapping around both of them. Hermione’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “Theo,” she whispered. “This was my parents’ first dance at their wedding.”
“Oh,” he said sharply, wondering if he should stop it. He reached for the player, his hand lingering over the needle. Hermione grabbed his hand, stilling him. “No, don’t stop it, please. It’s perfect. You’re right, Theo, this is our first dance too.”
He took her hand and they began to dance, her head pressed against his heart, her eyes closed. “How did you know?” She whispered.
“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted, almost feeling spooked by the coincidence. “As bizarre as it sounds, it just spoke to something in my soul, almost. Like a memory I had but didn’t know was there.”
He felt her shoulders shake in his arms as she cried and furrowed his brow. “Are you sure you want to dance to this at our wedding, love? It might be hard for you,” he said gently.
“I’m sure. I’d be stupid to ignore it– I think this is another way fate decided to intervene for us, Theo. It’s too special not to follow through.”
Theo nodded, kissing her on the forehead, but his mind was suddenly elsewhere. An idea had just begun to take root.
2 years later
“I still don’t understand why you feel the need to get me a wedding gift,” Hermione complained as they walked. “And why is it at Oxford, anyways? You better not have bought me the library or something,” she said, her eyes narrowed.
“Stop being so bloody suspicious. And no, I didn’t buy you a library. Although you deserve one,” Theo said, grinning at her. He tried not to show it, but his heart was pounding. He led her through the familiar Oxford pathways, his fingers laced tightly with hers as they approached the newly constructed wing of the Healing Department. “Ready?” He asked, as they walked through the doors.
Hermione looked around her, confusion written all over her face. “What is this?”
Theo squeezed her hand, taking a few calming breaths as he led her further inside. The space was bright and modern, a seamless blend of magic and Muggle design—sterile yet warm, the air thrumming with something powerful, something new.
“It’s the Granger Wing,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “For integrated magical and Muggle healing. Specifically for memory reconstruction.”
Hermione turned to him sharply, her breath hitching. “Theo—”
He guided her forward, past sleek examination rooms and softly glowing diagnostic orbs, stopping in front of a door marked Private Consultation. Revelio, he whispered, and the door disappeared to reveal a cozy sitting area, where two familiar figures sat waiting, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched, the door still intact from their point of view.
Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth.
Her parents.
“They were our first official patients, beginning about six months ago, but the trials have been going for over a year now, Hermione, and we’ve made progress. Safe progress,” Theo said gently, watching her as she stared, frozen.
“How–” she began, looking at him in awe, her eyes swimming with emotion.
He smiled. “I can explain the logistics to you later, but it’s a combined magical and Muggle healing program. For memory reconstruction. For people like your parents—people who were told there was no way to heal without risking everything. I got the idea that day at your parents house when I heard "Unchained Melody." It made me wonder—if music could stir something in me so deeply, then maybe it could do the same for them. Maybe memory isn’t just about facts and recollection. Maybe it’s about feeling. About connection. About rebuilding, piece by piece.”
Theo swallowed and glanced down at Hermione. A tear fell down her cheek, and he wiped it away. “So I started researching, looking into every theory I could find—magical, Muggle, anything that even hinted at repairing lost memory safely. It wasn’t about reversing Obliviation, not entirely. It was about finding a way to help people reclaim pieces of themselves. We combined Muggle cognitive therapy with carefully structured magical reinforcement—think of it like guiding the brain along familiar pathways instead of trying to rebuild them from nothing. We used sensory triggers—music, smells, even textures tied to important memories. And for the magical side, we developed spells that support neural regeneration, but only in tandem with emotional recognition. Nothing invasive. Nothing forced.”
“You did this– all of this? For me? For them?” Hermione was sobbing now.
Theo let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking his head as he cupped her face gently. “Of course I did.” His thumbs brushed away the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Hermione, you’ve spent your whole life fighting for everyone else. You gave up everything for your parents, for your friends- for the whole bloody wizarding world. How could I not do the same for you? I wanted to give you back something that was taken from you. From them. I didn’t know if it would work, but Dr. Aldridge was always so optimistic. She helped me make this happen. We started with music, Hermione. I brought in half your dad’s record collection and played it for them, every day. It worked. Not all at once, not completely, but they knew something. They felt something. Your mother started humming along to "Unchained Melody" and I knew it was working. And then a few days later, she asked your father to dance.” Hermione's breath caught on a sob.
Anxiously, he took her hands, looking into her eyes pleadingly. “I’m sorry I kept this from you– I just– I couldn’t let you be disappointed if it didn’t work. I had to be sure. That’s part of the reason I insisted on such a long engagement– I hoped they’d be there on our wedding day.”
“Do they– do they remember me?” Hermione whispered, clutching his hands tightly, her eyes darting between him and the waiting room.
He nodded slowly. “They do, but it’s still new. They started asking about you in the last few weeks- all on their own. Dr. Aldridge thinks they’re ready to meet you.”
Hermione inhaled sharply, reaching for his hand. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course I will. I’d do anything for you, Hermione.” Theo said, holding the door open for her.
Two months later
This is a bloody stupid rule, he scribbled into his notebook.
Maybe so. But I’m the bride– it’s MY special day, and if I say you have to wait until the ceremony to see me, you have no choice but to bend to my wishes!
Theo rolled his eyes at her comment. His fiancé had been about as far from a “bridezilla” as a woman could get throughout this process, so naturally she’d pull the “my special day” card during the actual wedding.
Fine. But you owe me later– for being such a good boy. Do you know how bloody hard it is to go 24 hours without seeing you?! This is practically torture.
Theo looked up from his notebook, the same one they’d been writing in since he gave it to her for Christmas during their final year at Hogwarts. Since they only wrote to each other when they weren't together, its pages are mostly filled with short messages like the ones from today– updates on their days, questions about dinner, a quick ‘I love you.’ When the pages had started to run out, Theo had added an extension charm to the notebook rather than make a new one. He liked being able to flip back and read their oldest messages, the things they wrote to each other when they were eighteen and newly in love. It was like being able to talk to their past selves. Sometimes his messages to her back then made him cringe– he had been so unsure. Of himself, of his future, of how she felt about him. Quite a bit had changed since then. Theo still had trouble accepting that this was his life at times– that he was marrying Hermione Granger, the girl he’d fallen in love with almost ten years ago, that he was someone who helped people– a Healer, a doctor. That most days, he rarely even thought of his father at all– that he had a family now. The Grangers. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Draco. Harry, Ron, Ginny. His Aunt Selene, who doted on him like he was her own son. And Hermione. She’d become his family a long time ago.
He wondered what Hermione was doing right now. What her dress would look like, how she might wear her hair. If she’d cry during their vows– Theo already knew he would. There was just no avoiding it. When it came to Hermione, he was always overwhelmed– that still hadn’t changed, even after nearly four years together. He wished she would let him see her– he was bloody nervous, and she always knew just what to say to reassure him. But here he was, stuck pacing about all day with nothing but his nerves to keep him company. As if on cue, his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, followed by the sound of it opening.
“There he is,” Draco said, grinning.
“What happened to knocking then waiting to be invited in?” Theo grumbled.
Draco frowned. “Uh-oh, our dear Theodore is regressing back to his sullen teenage self,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“Must be the pre-wedding jitters,” Harry said, popping his head into the room.
“I think I’ve got a solution,” Ron said, appearing from behind Harry. “And no, I’m not sneaking you into Hermione’s room, so don’t even bother asking.”
Theo rolled his eyes. Where were they all coming from, anyways? “And what might that solution be, then?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Come see for yourself,” Ron said, grinning as he gestured to something in the hall. When Theo stepped into the hallway, he saw four brooms lined up against the wall, and smiled despite himself.
He followed his friends out the back door, careful not to let his Aunt Selene see him sneaking out– he knew she’d fret about the possibility of him falling and breaking an arm, his hair looking like a “bird’s nest,” or any number of little concerns. As they took off into the air, Theo grinned at the rush he felt, the way the wind whipped his face. Ron was right, he thought begrudgingly, this was a rather good solution. Much better than shutting himself inside and worrying all day. Rising into the clouds, he looked down at Shafiq Manor below him. Selene had begged them to let her host the wedding here.
“This place needs a little joy after everything that’s happened here. I think it would make your mother very happy,” she’d said.
And there was no room for argument after that. Not that either he or Hermione would have, anyways. Shafiq Manor, despite its previous owner, was beautiful. Theo learned that his mother had inherited her love of gardening from his grandmother, who had also passed it on to his aunt. When Selene showed him the flower garden and proposed that he and Hermione have the ceremony there, it was a done deal. They’d chosen early June, which Theo had learned was peak peony season, and the garden was bursting with them. A nod to his mother, and a nod to his wife. Guests would start arriving in the next two hours, and Theo felt his stomach flutter with nerves. They’d capped it at a hundred people, which included most of the Hogwarts faculty, a large majority of their year (Slytherins excluded, with a few exceptions). Theo had also insisted on excluding Zacharias Smith from their guest list, for his own petty reasons.
But surprisingly, Hermione had quickly agreed, muttering “I don’t think he’d accept the invitation anyways.”
“And why’s that?” Theo had asked, his eyebrows raised.”Whatever happened with that project, anyways? I don’t think you ever told me.”
“Erm…” Hermione had looked slightly guilty. “He was a shameless flirt, as you noticed. Annoyingly persistent. I might’ve snuck a few Puking Pastilles into his morning tea every time he tried something. At first he didn’t suspect anything, but eventually he put the pieces together.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?!” Theo asked incredulously.
“Because,” she said, grinning. “You would’ve hexed him. Anyways, have I told you recently how much I love you?
Theo was yanked from the memory by the sensation of Ron whizzing by him, nearly knocking him off his broom. “Stop daydreaming about your bride, Nott!” The redhead shouted.
He rolled his eyes as he zoomed forward, catching up to his friends.
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As the music began to swell, Theo glanced anxiously down the aisle, desperate to lay eyes on Hermione. As soon as he saw her, he could relax, he told himself. In the front row, his Aunt Selene winked at him, her eyes already full of tears. Margaret Granger, Hermione’s mother, clutched his aunt’s hand, beaming at Theo. He skimmed the crowd, noting all the familiar faces, everyone who had come to witness their marriage. Gods, I wish we eloped, he said to himself. All of these people staring at him, smiling at him– he loathed being the center of attention. It made his skin crawl with anxiety. He should’ve taken Draco up on those shots of Firewhiskey.
But then, Hermione.
And all the nerves, all the unease faded away to a dull buzz at the back of his head– because there was his bride. Walking down the aisle toward him, arm linked with her father– he imagined this is what Muggles meant when they talked about Heaven. The moment their eyes met, the wedding guests all but disappeared– it was just the two of them. Her eyes were the richest earth after rain, deep and full of life—steady, certain, and endlessly warm.They were the first thing he had ever trusted, the one thing that had never wavered. And as she walked toward him, those big brown eyes held him in place, grounding him, like they always had. Her soft curls framed her face, catching the light as they bounced with each step, and the freckles dusting her cheeks stood out like tiny constellations against her flushed skin. She was breathtaking—wrapped in ivory lace that clung to her in all the right places, intricate patterns trailing over her arms like delicate vines.
Theo didn’t even notice he was crying until he saw a tear drop onto his suit. But Hermione was crying too, and then she was in front of him, her father kissing her cheek and shaking Theo’s hand as he gave her away. He held her small hand in his, his fingers tracing over her knuckles, unable to take his eyes off her.
“Before magic, before time, before all that is known, love was the first spell ever cast. It is the oldest and most unbreakable magic, binding souls across lifetimes, stronger than any enchantment,” McGonagall began, and Theo was jerked back to the present. Hermione smiled at him, squeezing his hands.
“Today, in the presence of witnesses seen and unseen—those who stand beside you and those who live on in memory—you stand before each other to weave a new magic—one of trust, devotion, and unity. This bond is not merely spoken, but felt, etched into the fabric of who you are and who you will become together.” Theo turned to look at the Headmistress, who gave him a small smile and nod as she continued.
“Do you, Theodore Cassius Nott, swear upon your magic and your heart to stand beside Hermione Jean Granger, through shadow and light, through all tides of fate, until your souls find each other once more in the great beyond?”
Theo cleared his throat. “With my magic and my heart, I swear it."
"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, swear upon your magic and your heart to stand beside Theodore Cassius Nott, through shadow and light, through all tides of fate, until your souls find each other once more in the great beyond?"
Hermione’s voice was unwavering as she answered. “With my magic and my heart, I swear it."
McGonagall's gaze softened as she lifted her wand, tracing an ancient pattern in the air. A faint shimmer of golden light bloomed between them, pulsing gently like a heartbeat.
"Then let it be witnessed—by those present, by those who came before, and by the magic that binds us all. Your words have been spoken, your promises sealed, not only in voice but in magic, in will, and in truth. May your hearts remain steady, your bond unbroken, and your love a force as enduring as the stars."
She turned her wand, and the golden light wove itself around their joined hands, a quiet hum of power settling between them before fading like a whisper.
"With magic and heart, you are bound. Let none undo what love has made whole."
There was a small beat of silence, and Theo wondered if he was supposed to kiss Hermione now or wait for direction. He glanced at McGonagall nervously.
She quirked a brow at him before allowing the briefest of smiles. "And now, Mr. Nott—kiss your bride before I lose the composure I so pride myself on."
Theo didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned in, and the moment their lips met, a warmth bloomed between them—soft at first, then spreading like rippling starlight. It was more than a kiss; it was a vow made tangible, a spark of magic igniting in the space between them. A golden glow shimmered around them, delicate and fleeting, as if their very magic recognized the moment, weaving them together in something ancient and unbreakable. The air hummed with energy, charged with love, with promise, with the weight of every whispered devotion that had led them here. Hermione’s fingers curled into his suit, holding him close, and Theo felt it—the absolute certainty that this, she, was his home. As they parted, breathless and smiling as their friends and family cheered, the warmth lingered, a quiet pulse of something infinite, something eternal.
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Woah, my love, my darling
I've hungered for your touch
A long, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine?
I need your love
I need your love
God speed your love to me
Lonely rivers flow To the sea, to the sea
To the open arms of the sea, yeah
Lonely rivers sigh
"Wait for me, wait for me"
I'll be coming home, wait for me
Woah, my love, my darling
I've hungered, hungered for your touch
A long, lonely time
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine?
I need your love
I need your love
God speed your love to me