Why were the Ravenclaws so aggressive whenever they played against the Hufflepuff? Theodore didn't care for it then but he surely did now. Now that I was playing for the Hufflepuff against the Ravenclaw.
Theodore stood by the sidelines, watching Blaise cheer way louder than he should've been for a team that wasn't theirs. A part of him was happy that his friend was close enough with me to support me outwardly while the other part of him found it embarrassing that he was associating himself with him.
But he regress, turning back to the quidditch pitch as he watch the game play out.
Theodore understood quidditch to a certain extent (maybe a lot more than he thinks since Draco spend a decent amount of his time droning on and on about quidditch during their second year), he knew that the beater were the one with the bats, the chaser is the position that I play, the seeker is the position that Draco plays and that was all. He thinks.
Now back to his point, why was the Ravenclaw so aggressive towards the Hufflepuff —nay, why was every house so violent towards the Hufflepuff whenever they have a match against them.
Theodore watches on, silently praying that his girlfriend wouldn't get hurt in the field as I raced towards one of the hoops after my teammate passed over the quaffle.
I turn sharply, barely avoiding the other Ravenclaw keeper. My head cocking to the side, testing the keeper just for the fun of it. My arm stretches backwards, quaffle in hand, ready to shoot at any given moment.
And when I finally let go, the quaffle barrels into the loops as if it was born for this. It's a shame that the bludgers were also born for this. Hitting the end of my broom the second I let go of the quaffle.
Theodore could see the look of surprise on my face from a mile away. Then came the helpless realization that I would be landing on the floor in a matter of seconds, only hoping that someone would save me before I fall to my demise.
The panic sets in first. Then Theodore was on his feet. He can't recall how many second has passed since I'd fallen but can recall himself reaching down the stairs and into the pitch. Blaise was following him. So was Draco. So was Pansy, he thinks. He thinks Pansy cared about him and his girlfriend enough to have the decency to be distressed.
He thinks and thinks and thinks. And silently panics, not knowing what's to come when he comes face to face with me. Finding me out cold. He felt himself being pushed aside. Madam Promfrey rushing over. He didn't argue. Watching her work as he prays that I get to live another day.
•••
I don't remember much. I don't know what happened fully but I do know that we won. And somewhere along that process, I got my ass knocked off of my broom by an aggressive bludger.
That's quidditch for you, I guess.
A chorus of voices is the first thing I hear when I woke. They were talking or arguing –I can't really tell. I'm too doped up and groggy to fully take in my surroundings.
They were talking about something (or maybe someone). Me, I think. I think I'm their topic of conversation but that would be narcissistic for me to assume. Although, my thoughts were proven correct when Malfoy brought attention to my now conscious self listening into their words.
Theodore didn't miss a beat before landing by my side, casting a charm for the curtains to close behind him. "How are you feeling?" he asks and when I made to answer, Theodore slipped in another question. "How are you doing?"
He seemed to have caught himself, smiling timidly at me when he apologized. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to hear your voice."
I don't think he meant it much because I know full well that if he could, he'd asked me what I'm thinking of and hang on to every word I give him.
And when I laughed tiredly. Theo asks once more, his tone light. "Am I amusing to you?"
Theodore isn't quite as intimidating when you were his girlfriend. I smile when I tell him: "very."
He didn't make to reply, checking every inch of my face for any injury that Madam Promfrey might've missed. His hair a moving mop of fluff above his head when his head shifted too quickly.
I prop myself on my elbows, reaching out to touch it. "You grew out your hair."
Theodore tilted his head, easing the stretch of my arms. "I didn't mean to," he says first, leaning into my hand when they brush against the side of his cheek. "I'll cut it soon."
"Don't," I tell him, Theodore sits himself on the empty side of my bed, his own hand reaching up to cradle mine. "It looks good on you."
The look on his face turns unreadable, eyes shifting away from me. "I was so worried."
"I'm sorry," I say, sitting up properly in my bed. "Did my team win at least?"
A breathy laugh falls from his lips. "Yes." Gaze turning back to me. "They did."
"That's good," I murmured, trying to savor every second of this moment. "Did you cheer for us?"
"No," he answers honestly. "I was too preoccupied with thinking that you were dying." And then, "sorry," he smiles so softly that my heart aches at the sight of it. "Will you ever forgive me?"
"I think I can forgive you for that." Theodore smile never falter, face turning in my hand, his lips pressing a kiss against my palm.
"That's good," he says, he says knowing that I would always forgive him no matter what. "I can't even begin to fathom what I'd do if you didn't forgive me."
"It's a good thing I forgive you then."
He nods. "Really good," his voice barely above a whisper. When my eyes grow tired, barely able to keep myself awake for long seeing as my body was still recovering. "I think it's time for you to rest." He drops our hands, linking them together. And softly, he asks, "is there anything you need?"
I could feel a smile pricking at the corners of my lips. "A kiss?"
Theodore hesitates, every part of him growing shy. "A kiss?" A year spent together and he still is hesitant about a kiss. I nod. "A kiss is all you need?"
"Yes."
Theodore releases my hand, his own reaching out to cup my face. Palm pressed flat against my skin, his thumb making quick work at caressing my cheek while the rest of fingers cupped my jaw. "A kiss it is."
He leans forward, just enough for his lips to comfortably press against mine. The kiss soft and tender, slowly easing me into him when I made to kiss him back, Theodore pulls away.
"A kiss," he says, as if he was reminding me that that was all I'd asked of him. "Now rest, I will give you millions more when you're well."
"I'm quite well," I tell him tiredly, fighting sleep under the warmth of his hand holding my face. "Where's my millions more?"
"Where ever you want them to be." He presses a kiss on my forehead. "I will give them to you. But not now." Not now when I felt so terribly enervated.
"I'll be back in the morning." He tells me finally.
Sleep takes over the minute Theodore slips away from me, his hand away from my face, his voice far from my ear, his presence that I could no longer sense. Succumbing to sleep wasn't hard, it was no where near hard for I knew that when I woke the next morning, I will once again be basking in everything him alike. And I can truly rest with that.
•••
Theodore exudes a kind of comfort that I can't categorize. But if I'm being honest, I don't even know where to start when it came him.
He was tall, quiet, smart, that much was true. The other parts that people didn't mention as much was how handsome he was, how soothing his voice sounds despite the rare usage of it and when he does use it, the way he words his sentences can charm anyone into giving him what he wanted.
The door unlocks before the two of us, the boy's Slytherin dorm now my third (because my own dorm is my second) home. The room was empty, saving for the mess scattered round as proof that five teenage boys were living in that very dorm.
We step through, Theodore locking the door behind us, and dropped our book bags. I head for the bathroom's sink, wanting nothing other than a nice cold splash of water against my face.
When I returned, Theo hands me a pair of soft cotton plaid pants and one of his old oversized shirts. I think our next actions stems from the fact that we've long grown used to one another.
Silently slipping off our clothes with no embarrassment, no outwards reaction, nothing but small smiles when we catch the other staring at us. I slipped on my pants shortly after Theodore finished changing, him walking forward so that we stood face to face.
Theo took the shirt he'd given me from where I'd last placed it, helping me into it with soft eyes. The bottom hem of the shirt falls around my waist, not having yet adjusted it when he took my lips in his.
This is the millions more kisses he owes me, I think.
He pulls away, hands hanging around the exposed skin between the shirt and my cotton pants. "Are you sure you're okay, baby?" He asks for the hundredth time, the only different being the pet name that he uses now. And when I told him that I was, he asks: "Shall we take a nap?"
I'm okay. But I will like to take that nap. I tell him and he nods, tugging me with him towards his bed. Theodore shuts the four posters, cloaking us in with green silk. From where I laid on his bed, I could hear the lake water lapping against the window, brushing by the glass pane with each movement it made.
Theodore laid besides me, turning at an angle which he could see me clearly. "You owe five sickles."
"For what?"
"Parkinson and Draco."
"You're kidding," I said first, and when all he did was smile at me, his hand coming to lay on the dip of my waist. "Surely not."
He squeezes the flesh of my waist. Surely yes.
"It's barely been a month," I said, finally accepting my faith. "How could they already break it off? There was so much tension between them."
"That's your fault for reading between the lines," he teases. "I told you it was only a fling and you didn't want to believe me. Now look who's five sickles richer."
As if he won't spend that five sickles on me. "I'll pay you tomorrow then?" I ask him, feeling his other hand that wasn’t resting on my waist reach for my own. "Will that be okay with you?"
" 'course," he says. "All is well when it comes to you." And then, "Are you sure you're feeling well enough for class tomorrow? We can skip if you aren't."
"I'm fine," I tell him, squeezing our now linked hands, trying to reassure him as much as I could. "Plus, I'm failing potions. I don't think my grades can handle any more of me missing classes."
Theo frowns. "You are?" He asks, playing with the hem of my —his— shirt. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Because, it's nothing. And I didn't want to bother you," I tell him. "I know you're busy with your studies, I didn't want to be a burden on top of that."
His hand falters, turning to a halt. Dark eyes narrowing, searching and assessing, trying and trying to see if I was being serious. And when there was no indication that I was anything but, he says: "never in a million lifetimes could you ever be a burden."
"If you ever need help with anything, say it," he tells me. "Say it and I’ll be there. My time is yours. I'm yours and I will move mountains to give you anything you could ever want."
Sappy. This is so incredibly sappy. But I still smile nonetheless, I still kiss him until I feel breathless. I still store every single sentence, word, syllable, letter in a special box in my head that is uniquely made up off of Theodore.
Theodore who can't seem to treat me like the other boys have treated me. Theodore who goes over the top with everything he does when he wants me to feel cared by him. Theodore who would never make me feel anything less than beautiful.
Theo props himself up on one elbow, leaning over me with his lips pressing against mine, his other hand slipping beneath my shirt and laying flat against my tummy. His lips drags down peppering kisses from my jawline and down to my neck.
When my legs press against him, wanting more and more of what he could give me, he pulls back, leaving the scent of him in his wake.
"I know we're young," he begins. "But I wish more than anything to be your husband, I want to give you everything that I have. I have no intention in doing anything else, my love."
Theodore paused, as if he was letting me know that if I didn't want him as much as he wanted me, he will let me go just to make me happy. And then, softly he says, "I hope you feel as irrevocably in love with me as I do you."