Chapter 10
It was almost midnight when Theo trudged out of McGonagall’s office, his eyes tired and fogged from all the collateral book skimming he had done while cataloguing and reshelving. His detention was going to take longer than anticipated, because he simply couldn’t help his insatiable curiosity and had to learn what those ancient tomes and forgotten pamphlet were about. So, before he wrote down the title and set aside a book in the correct pile, he quickly went through it, trying to absorb something, and making a personal note to look it up if it felt worth it. Mental notes hadn’t been enough after his first night already.
The gryphon gargoyle slid aside and let him down of the moving stair. He stepped into the corridor and immediately halted. Hermione was comfortably sitting cross-legged on the cold stones, her back resting against the wall and a book open in her lap.
“What are you doing on the floor, Granger? It’s freezing,” he playfully scolded her. She looked up, unruly curls falling on her face like a curtain, her hand flying up to tuck them behind her ear on instinct. Theo’s lips stretched. Gods, she was so beautiful his heart clenched with need. Need to scoop her in his arms and kiss her senseless, need to caress every inch of her perfect body, need to stay up all night, talking to her until he knew every thought that crossed her mind.
Before she could say anything, he slumped next to her, not really surprised to find a Cushioning and a Warming Charm firmly in place around her.
Hermione stuck her tongue out to him. “What have you taken me for? A first-year?” she mocked, scooting closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder. Theo snaked an arm around her waist and tucked her into his side, kissing the top of her head. A small sigh escaped her lips and he felt her body relax against his, her barriers completely down around him.
“Did you ask her?” she whispered.
“There was no need. McGonagall told me she won’t be in her office tomorrow night, so I am not required to come, since - and I quote - I cannot linger around her books unattended,” he replied, humor tinging his voice.
Hermione snorted. “Did she catch you sniffing them?”
Theo lightly pinched her side and she giggled. “No, I always do it when she is not watching.”
They laughed and hugged a bit tighter, then stayed like that until the heavy silence of the corridor returned and blanketed them.
“I think she’s my favorite teacher,” Theo said, opening his fingers wider on her stomach.
Hermione smiled, her hand resting on his chest, right above his heart. “She is the best.”
Theo closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the flowery scent of her soft curls sweetly teasing his nostrils.
“Are Potter and Weasley coming to the party tomorrow?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Hermione nodded, her cheek rubbing against his clavicle. Then she shifted up, her nose grazing his neck, eyes searching his distant gaze.
“Do they know about us?” he continued, still looking in front of him, a kernel of dread nagging at his core. Lately, he had started accepting himself a bit more, thanks to Hermione and her friends, that where slowly becoming his own as well. Watching people’s wonder and respect at the mention of his actions in the war had started to warm up his soul and he had began to believe that maybe he could allow himself some sort of pride for what he had achieved.
Yet, facing Potter and Weasley was different. Together with Hermione, they had been the Golden Trio, the children that had shoulder the bulk of Voldemort’s demise. Potter, in particular, had barely made it out alive. And Weasley was basically Hermione’s ex boyfriend. Theo didn’t know what to expect from them. They loved Hermione deeply, he was sure of that, and wanted only the best for her, which he didn’t feel like he was. He definitely wasn’t expecting them to think he was.
Another part of him, the most Slytherin one, didn’t give a fuck about their opinion, really. He only valued Hermione’s and if she wanted him, he was going to stay as long as she would have him, worshipping and taking care of her at the highest of his possibilities. He only wanted her to be happy, which probably entailed her best friends’ blessing on some level. Hence, his faint dread.
“Yes, I told them in letters,” she said, her palm sliding up to his neck, fingertips teasing his jawline. “Harry’s really curious to meet you, actually.”
Theo finally met her gaze, one brow arched. “And Weasley?”
Hermione shrugged. “Ron has rougher edges in this department. We do have history…” she trailed off, teasing his hint of stubble down the line of his sharp jaw.
Theo hesitated for a split second, then decided he wanted to know, even if it could potentially be painful to hear her talk about her previous love life.
“What happened there, by the way?”
Her hand trailed back down to his chest and settled on his abs. “We thought we were made for each other, then we realized we aren’t. We want different things, travel at different speeds. I like everything he doesn’t care for and vice versa,” she explained, her voice calm and clear, no hint of longing or regret in there. It made his stomach unclench with relief.
“Plus, there was no chemistry whatsoever,” she added, almost laughing.
“So, you ended things on good terms?” he carefully pushed.
She nodded. “We were definitely on the same page, for once.”
Theo breathed, his fingers inching up under her breast. He felt her arch into his hand, her body automatically responding, eager to get closer. He smiled to himself.
“Granger?”
“Mmh?”
She was tired, he knew the signs. Her lids were heavy, her head resting loosely on his chest now.
“What are you going to wear tomorrow?”
She poked him in the ribs and he jumped, chuckling loudly in the empty corridor.
“Don’t take advantage of a sleepy Gryffindor, Nott. It’s unfair,” she admonished him, her words coming out sluggish. “I told you it’s a surprise.”
“Tell me the color at least. I want to match the lapels of my robe to your dress,” he pressed, his hand wandering down her hipbone.
She shook her head on his chest, rubbing his pectoral. “Surprise,” she whispered.
“Teaser,” he murmured back with a half smile.
******
The following night, the castle was buzzing with excitement. The tables were almost empty at dinner time, those invited to Slughorn Christmas Party skipping the meal to get all dolled up.
Theo took the longest shower of his life, staying under the scorching hot spray completely still, letting water run down his skin like lava while he tried to keep his heartbeat at bay. He thought about the Yule Ball, how stunning Hermione had been on Krum’s arm, her periwinkle dress billowing around her while she spun in circles on the dance floor. Her smile had been radiant, brightening the very room in Theo’s eyes. Then, he’s seen her run away from the Great Hall in tears, Weasley at her heels, the magic broken by a petty skirmish, no doubt.
Theo wanted this party to be their Yule Ball, minus the tears and fights. He wanted it to be perfect, a real date, one of the many memories he wanted to create with her. And he wanted it so bad, that his heart wouldn’t stop thundering in his broad chest. It didn’t stop, while he slipped into his black slacks and silk black shirt, nor while he tied the strings of his shiny shoes. It went on booming loudly in his ears when he donned the black robes with silk lapels and accompanied him like a drum in his walk to the corridor leading to the foot of Gryffindor tower’s stairs.
He was quite early, no one else was waiting for their dates yet, so he leaned against the high window and tapped his wand on a glass panel. It vanished, letting the cool December air ruffle his dark locks, clearing his mind. Theo reached into an inner pocket of his robes and took out a cigarette. He tucked it between his lips and lit it up with the tip of his wand. He dragged deeply on the filter and let the smoke linger in his mouth for a second before releasing it slowly from his nostrils into the night sky.
He hadn’t smoked in weeks, he was really trying to quit. Not just because she’d asked him, but to be free from the restraints of addiction. But some days were worse than others. Some nights he still woke up covered in cold sweat, trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind, and the only way to make it stop was the comfort of feeling a cigarette between his index and middle finger.
Theo took another drag, his heart finally steadied, then pressed the half smoked cigarette on the stone and transfigured it into a snowdrop petal that flew away into the winter breeze. He made the glass panel reappear, just seconds before male laughter broke the silence of the corridor.
A group of guys dressed to the nines turned the corner, Neville basically leading the gang. He cleaned up nicely in his bottle green dress robes, his hair slicked back. Theo suppressed a smile. He had taught him a spell to obtain that effect two nights before, because he had wanted to try something different. He had reminded him of Draco, so self aware of his physical appearance, so vulnerable when others weren’t watching.
Neville noticed him immediately, his face lighting up.
“Hey Theo!” he yelled, his steps quicker. Theo nodded and walked to meet the group. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan grinned his way. Theo had talked to them many times now, sharing heated opinions on muggle soccer over lunch at Gryffindor table. They were quite the pair of sport fanatics, but they were okay to be around and he understood their devotion.
During his year in the States, Theo had found a safe haven from his tortured mind in physical activity. Running and boxing had kept him standing, when he couldn’t put up with his guilt for hiding from his father and his creepy gang of sadistic criminals. He had hit the punching bag so hard he had broken his knuckles twice, in the desperate attempt to feel the pain, to punish himself for fleeing, for leaving his friends to fight on their own, for letting his mom die when he was a child. It was crazy, he knew that now, but still.
Right behind Neville, was Potter, his clear green eyes alive and curious. They seemed even brighter, against the dark burgundy color of his embroidered vest. He was studying him openly, an easy smile on his clean-shaven face.
“Harry, do you remember Theodore Nott?” Neville asked, in an attempt to ease the awkward introductions between two old classmates that had never really interacted with each other before. Harry extended his hand to Theo and grinned, no sign of hostility anywhere near his relaxed demeanor.
“I remember he was the less shitty Slytherin,” he joked, while Theo shook his hand firmly. His half smile made an appearance at Potter’s comment, or actually at the absence of venom in it.
“You were definitely the cockier Gryffindor, though,” he replied, earning an even wider grin from Boy Wonder.
“If he hadn’t, we would probably be dead by now,” a colder voice chimed in on Potter’s left. Theo shifted his gaze to Ronald Weasley, all clad in midnight blue robes and shiny dragon hide boots. The Slytherin voice in Theo’s head noticed how different he looked from school-years-Weasley: more confident, more elegant, less cheap. The softer voice poked him in the ribs, telling him Weasley deserved everything he’d got from the aftermath of the war. He was a hero, just as much as Potter and Hermione. Still, the cold blue of his eyes, judging him without knowing the first thing about him, made Theo raise his defensive walls. He observed the red-head carefully, searching for Ginny in his features. There, in the line of his mouth and the spatter of freckles on his nose, he could see a little of the fiery girl he had come to appreciate in the latest months. But he much preferred the fire in her eyes and her sharp humor to her brother’s skeptical look of disdain.
“Weasley,” Theo simply said, nodding and pushing his right hand into his pocket. The temperature dropped a little around them and Neville cleared his throat beside him.
“Speaking of cocky, aren’t you a loose canon yourself?” Neville said, trying to lighten the mood. He turned to his Gryffindor friends, proudly smiling.
“Theo beat up a Slytherin fifth year that had piled shit on Hermione. The guy had to stay in the hospital wing for a week!”
Potter looked impressed, his brows flying up to his hairline, a crooked grin stretching his lips. Weasley narrowed his eyes.
“Really?” he asked, suspicious. Theo didn’t move a muscle in his face, his cold mask of indifference perfectly in place.
“I would do anything for those I love,” he said, cold oceans staring straight into cool skies, hoping his choice of words wouldn’t go unnoticed. He could tell it didn’t, in the hard set of Weasley’s jaw, a muscle twitching under his left eye.
“Guys,” Dean murmured, a finger pointing towards the stairs. Theo whipped around, his heart bolting up into his throat. Ginny, Luna and Hannah were coming down the steps, arm in arm, all beaming in their elegant outfits. They were gorgeous.
Luna had a short dress with puffed sleeves and a puffed skirt, silver layers of tulle gathering around her petite waist, making her look like a sparkling cupcake. Her blond hair fanned around her shoulder and down her back like a shiny cape.
Hannah was giggling in her dreamy lavender skirts, floating around her ankles with every step. The wide, gauzy sleeves and glittering jeweled belt cinching her waist made her look like a fairy spirit of the woods.
Exuding power, Ginny looked gorgeous in her long, fluid gown, the same shade of Potter’s vest, entirely made of intricate lace over silk lining. The boat neckline left her shoulders bare, her hair slicked back at her temples, flowing like molten metal down her back. Even in elegant clothes, Theo could see the warrior princess, strength etched into her every detail. He sent her a teasing smile and she rolled her eyes at him, then made a small nod towards the top of the stairs and winked. Theo’s eyes trailed up and his heart stopped.
She was there. Hermione was there and she was perfect, stunning, painfully beautiful and he forgot how he was supposed to breathe. She was wrapped into a fitted, long dress, the silk hugging each and every curve of her luxurious body, a slit running up her left thigh. The sweetheart neckline set elegantly on her full breasts, two thin straps made of gold, glittering gems, adorning her shoulders. They were matched with her jewel sandals, secured around her sexy ankles. Unlike the Yule Ball, her hair were down, wild curls styled to frame her beautiful face in a cloud of chocolate and caramel and bronze. Just like he liked it.
Theo let his eyes travel up and down her figure, a slow smirk stretching his lips, pushing his dimple to the surface. Now he knew why she’d insisted to keep him in the dark about her dress. It was emerald green. And she’d never looked more powerful in any other color.
When their eyes met, Hermione gave him a coy smile and started to walk down the steps, her hips swaying lightly with each step. Theo wanted to fall to his knees right there and then. Instead, with a flick of his wand, he matched his lapels to her outfit, and strode towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. He reached the foot of the steps and offered her his hand. Hermione took it and Theo bowed to kiss it, softly. Her flowery scent enveloped him, sending his mind in ecstasy.
This. He wanted to breathe this for the rest of his life.
“I never saw true beauty till this night,” he whispered, lacing their fingers together, reaching to stroke her cheek. Hermione smiled, blushing.
“Starting with a quote from Shakespeare? Sounds promising, Nott,” she said, her eyes never straying from his. They were warm and full of something soft and primal at the same time.
Theo smiled, leaning down to brush his lips on hers. “It’s going to be a night you’ll never forget, Granger.”