scriptedinkbyxim

[scriptedinkbyxim]

For witches and wizards, one’s magical core is constantly present. The magical presence throughout your life is as certain as the air in your lungs, your functioning limbs and your soul. The magical core is what makes you, not only a witch or a wizard, but it’s also what makes you you.

All supposed knowledge about the magical core is as uncertain as the thoughts your head births late at night, when you lay sleepless in your bed and can’t help but wonder what death really means… what comes after death? Is there an afterlife of some sort? What happens to the soul when you die? Is there even such a thing as a soul? What is the purpose of one person among so many other people? Is there a purpose?

Those thoughts don’t only occur in the heads of Muggles. Wizards and witches, known for being more open-minded for the unknown than your average Muggle, question these things to. They seek answers. They don’t always find them. As for thoughts like this, questioning one’s existence and purpose, there is no clear answer and will never be.

The magical core is a mysterious thing, something that makes even the wisest wizard scratch his head in confusion, and it has done so for as long as bearers of a magical core have roamed the Earth.

The only thing that is certain is that it exists, and it thrives and it grows stronger and it changes, constantly living in the body of a child who becomes an adult… the magic is always there, like a second pulse. It navigates people, and it misleads them. It confuses and it plays tricks. It lives, but does it die? Or does the magic live in forever, long after the carrier is in the grave? That, too, is uncertain and pure speculation.

Something that is certain is that it’s a strong force. Very strong, so strong that a wizard can feel another wizard’s magic core as soon as the carrier steps into the room, if he concentrates enough. If the core is strong, its force can make you feel like you’re about to fall over. Like a wind it flows by you, through you, it lashes out and it hides away in the deepest parts of you. It grows stronger and it weakens. Teenagers with magical cores often experience how it spins out of control, makes them do magic without their permission. Sometimes the magic rushes through their body and lashes out while they’re asleep or unconscious. Teenagers at Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wake up to the sight of their pillow stuck in a ceiling, or a change of colour on their bed, or perhaps even their dorm mates levitating in their sleep. So yes, teenage hormones affects the magical core, and the magical core affects the hormones. Whether it’s love, natural or forced by a love potion, or pure fury or deep sadness, the magical core springs free and lashes out when emotions take over.

The magic makes its first appearance at a young age, and from there it grows, grows, grows. Sometimes it scares people. Sometimes it changes them.

Wizards can feel all magical cores, whether they are too used to it to notice or if they pay attention. The magic flows, it grows and it’s a living thing, from the look of it. It intertwines with other magical cores, and it breaks free.

Some people’s magical cores aren’t meant to meet.

Some people’s magical cores aren’t meant to ever let go of each other.

Some people can feel the magic more than others.

Oh, it is certain that every real witch and wizard has their own magic, like their own fingerprints and their own DNA, but it’s more personal and it is what makes them their own person.

Some people have a stronger magic than others.

A few have even stronger magic, so strong it should be impossible.

And if these people come across the wrong people, perhaps people who can see right thought them and feel their magic like a physical pressure… people who can hold out their hand and play with it, let it slide through their fingers like a physical thing and then grasp it and hold it tight… bad things might happen.

There might be feuds. There might we War. There might be playful fights, betrayal, there might be evil against evil and evil against good and good against the darkness within… there might be grief and incredible pain, there might be longing and lust and perhaps feelings even stronger than that, feelings that can’t even fit inside a human body.

What happens when two magical cores desperately need to break free, come closer, break free, come closer and need a way out, because the pain is too much and it feels like home?

[scriptedinkbyxim]

The Maid of Honor

Part Six: Mission Steal the Bride

The one where the Slytherins help Theo get his shit together. Or the one were Y/N Black takes Theo to buy lengerie.

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Reader, Charlie Weasley x reader, Past! Cedric Diggory x reader.

Warnings: Slight Angst. Pinning. Nudity. Alcohol Consumption.

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Theodore Nott woke to the feeling of his brain trying to claw its way out of his skull. Sunlight streamed mercilessly through the curtains he'd forgotten to close, and every small sound in his flat felt like thunder. He groaned, pressing his palms against his temples, trying to piece together the fragments of the previous night.

The bachelorette party disaster. Y/N's tears. Her walking away from him. The subsequent trip to three different pubs with a bottle of Firewhisky that he'd charmed to never empty. And then...

He turned his head slowly, afraid of what he might find, and confirmed his worst fears. There was definitely someone else in his bed. Someone with long, silvery-blonde hair spread across his pillow, someone who was very much naked and very much not Y/N.

"Merde," came a sleepy voice with a distinct French accent. The woman stretched languidly, and Theo's stomach dropped as recognition hit him like a Bludger to the chest.

Gabrielle Delacour. Fleur's little sister. The quiet, ethereal girl who'd been at Y/N's bachelorette party, who'd spent most of the evening looking uncomfortable while the older women discussed wedding plans and relationship advice.

"Miss Delacour," Theo croaked, his voice rough from alcohol and regret. "What... how did we..."

She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest, and gave him a look that was part amusement, part pity. "You were very drunk, Theodore. Very sad. You kept talking about Y/N."

The memory hit him like a physical blow. He'd been drowning his sorrows at the Leaky Cauldron when Gabrielle had appeared, also looking lost and lonely. She'd mentioned something about feeling out of place at the party, about being tired of everyone treating her like Fleur's baby sister. They'd commiserated over drinks, and then...

"Did we...?" he asked, though he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

"Oui," she said simply. "Though you called me Y/N twice, which was not exactly flattering."

Theo closed his eyes, hating himself more than he thought possible. "I'm so sorry. I was drunk, I was stupid, I—"

"You were heartbroken," she interrupted gently. "It 'appens. Though perhaps next time, you should consider talking to ‘ze woman you love instead of sleeping with 'er family friend."

Before Theo could respond, the distinctive sound of his Floo network activating echoed through the flat. He heard heels clicking on his hardwood floor, and moments later, Pansy Parkinson's voice cut through the air like a knife.

"Theodore Nott, you pathetic excuse for a wizard, get your arse out of bed this instant!"

Gabrielle's eyes widened in alarm. "Perhaps I should go," she whispered, already reaching for her clothes.

"Theo!" Pansy's voice was getting closer. "I know you're in there, and I know you're wallowing in self-pity like some tragic—"

The bedroom door burst open, and Pansy stopped mid-sentence, taking in the scene with raised eyebrows. "Well, well. This is even worse than I thought."

"Pansy," Theo started, but she held up a hand to silence him.

"You," she said to Gabrielle, who was frantically trying to dress under the sheet. "Bathroom. Now. Get cleaned up and get out. And you," she turned to Theo with a look that could have melted steel, "stay exactly where you are. We're going to have words."

Gabrielle practically fled to the bathroom, clutching her clothes. Pansy waited until the door closed before turning her full attention to Theo.

"Are you completely mental?" she hissed. "Y/N fled to Romania, probably having second thoughts about her entire life, and you're here shagging her fianceé’s family?"

"It's not what it looks like," Theo protested weakly.

"It looks like you're a self-destructive idiot who can't handle his emotions like an adult," Pansy snapped. "Which, coincidentally, is exactly what you are."

Gabrielle emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and looking embarrassed. "I am very sorry," she said to Pansy. "‘Zis was a mistake."

"Yes, it was," Pansy agreed, but her tone was kinder now. "But not entirely your fault. Go home, Gabrielle. And maybe don't mention this to your sister. Or anyone for that matter."

After Gabrielle left through the Floo, Pansy turned back to Theo, who had managed to pull on a pair of pajama bottoms but was still looking thoroughly miserable.

"You know what your problem is?" she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're so busy feeling sorry for yourself that you've forgotten how to actually fight for what you want."

"What's the point?" Theo muttered, flopping back down on the bed. "She's marrying Charlie Weasley. I ruined her bachelorette party, and now she probably hates me."

"She doesn't hate you, you dramatic toad. She's confused and hurt and probably wondering why her best friend is a complete tosser." Pansy grabbed his pillow and hit him with it. "Get up. We're going to fix this."

"There's nothing to fix," Theo said, pulling the covers over his head. "I had my chance years ago, and I blew it. Do you know how she met Charlie? She was supposed to have dinner with me, and I was too busy with some random hookup to show up. She went to that restaurant alone, and Charlie was there, and now she's going to marry him and move to Romania and I'll never see her again."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Pansy muttered, then raised her voice and shouted threw the floo. "Draco! Blaise! Get in here!"

"What are you doing?" Theo asked, sitting up in alarm.

"Calling in reinforcements," Pansy replied grimly. "You're going to need all the help you can get."

Ten minutes later, Theo's bedroom was crowded with his friends. Draco looked amused, Blaise appeared to be fighting back laughter, and Astoria was holding a cup of tea that smelled suspiciously like a sobering potion.

"Drink this," Astoria said, offering him the cup. "Then shower. You smell like a firewhiskey distillery."

"This is humiliating," Theo groaned, but he drank the potion anyway. The fog in his head cleared immediately, though it did nothing for his emotional state.

"What's humiliating is watching you throw away your chance with my cousin, the love of your life, because you're too afraid to take a risk," Draco said bluntly. "How long have you been in love with her? Eight years? Ten?"

"Since I was twelve," Theo admitted quietly. "Maybe longer."

"And in all that time, have you ever actually told her how you feel?" Blaise asked.

"It's complicated—"

"It's not complicated," Pansy interrupted. "You love her. She's getting married in two weeks. You have fourteen days to convince her that you're the better choice. It's actually quite simple."

"She's happy with Charlie," Theo protested. "I'm not going to ruin that for her."

"Is she happy?" Astoria asked gently. "Because from what I saw at the bachelorette party, she looked like a woman who was trying very hard to convince herself she was making the right choice."

Theo looked up at her with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she spent most of the night looking at you instead of talking about her fiancé," Astoria replied. "And when that fire flower arrived from Charlie, she was happy about the gesture, but she kept glancing at you to see your reaction."

"She did?" Theo asked, hope flickering in his chest despite himself.

"Oh, for the love of—" Pansy threw her hands up in exasperation. "Yes, you oblivious git! She's been in love with you for years, but you're both too scared to do anything about it!"

"You don't know that," Theo said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"We all know that," Draco said firmly. "Everyone except you and Y/N. It's been painful to watch, honestly."

Blaise nodded in agreement. "The way you two look at each other, the way you finish each other's sentences, the way you both light up when the other person enters a room... it's sickeningly obvious."

"So what do you suggest I do?" Theo asked, finally allowing himself to feel a spark of hope. "Storm into her wedding and object?"

"Nothing so dramatic," Astoria said with a smile. "We're going to be much more subtle than that."

"Speak for yourself," Pansy muttered, but she was smiling too.

Draco pulled out a piece of parchment and conjured a quill. "Right. Operation Steal the Bride is officially in motion. Phase One: Damage control. You're going to write her a letter apologizing for the disaster at the bachelorette party and asking to meet."

"What if she doesn't want to see me?" Theo asked.

"She will," Astoria said confidently. "She's probably just as miserable as you are right now."

"And Phase Two?" Theo asked, feeling more hopeful than he had in days.

"Phase Two is where you show her that you're not the same commitment-phobic playboy she's always known," Pansy said. "You're going to be the perfect Man of Honor. Attentive, supportive, reliable. Everything Charlie is, but better."

"Because you know her better than anyone," Blaise added. "You know what makes her laugh, what makes her cry, what she dreams about when she thinks no one is listening."

"And Phase Three?" Theo asked.

"Phase Three is where you tell her the truth," Draco said seriously. "All of it. How long you've loved her, how sorry you are for wasting so much time, how you can't imagine your life without her."

"And if she chooses Charlie anyway?" Theo asked quietly.

"Then at least you'll know you tried," Astoria said gently. "At least you won't spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been."

Theo looked around at his friends, feeling overwhelmed by their loyalty and support. "You really think I have a chance?"

"I think you have more than a chance," Pansy said firmly. "But you have to be willing to fight for her. No more random hookups, no more self-pity, no more running away when things get complicated."

"I can do that," Theo said, and for the first time in days, he actually believed it.

"Good," Draco said, standing up. "Now go shower. You have a letter to write."

An hour later, Theo sat at his desk, staring at a blank piece of parchment. He'd started and discarded a dozen different versions of the letter, but nothing seemed adequate. How do you apologize for ruining someone's bachelorette party? How do you explain that you were trying to show them you cared but ended up making everything worse?

Finally, he settled on simplicity.

Y/N, I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but I need you to know how sorry I am about the bachelorette party. I was trying to give you something perfect, and instead I gave you a disaster. I know I've been a terrible friend lately, and I know I've hurt you, and I'm sorry. I miss you. I miss talking to you, I miss laughing with you, I miss being able to tell you everything. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm hoping you'll give me a chance to make things right. I'll understand if you don't want to see me, but if you're willing to give me another chance, I promise I'll do better. I promise I'll be the friend you deserve. Love always, Theo

He read it over three times before sealing it and sending it with his owl. Then he sat back to wait, trying not to think about all the ways Y/N might respond, or worse, all the ways she might not respond at all.

Φ

Nine Years Ago - Fourth Year, Hogwarts

"You can't be serious about Diggory," Theo said, trying to keep his voice casual as he watched Y/N fix her hair in the mirror of an empty classroom.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Y/N asked, not looking at him.

"He's too old for you," Theo said, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground but unable to stop himself. "And he's a blood traitor. Your parents would never approve."

Y/N whirled around, her eyes flashing with anger. "My parents are dead Theodore. And Cedric is a good person, which is more than I can say for most of the people in our house."

"That's not what I meant," Theo said quickly, but the damage was done.

"Isn't it?" Y/N asked, her voice cold. "Or are you just jealous that someone actually wants to take me to the Yule Ball instead of treating me like some little sister they have to protect?"

"I'm don’t treat you like a sister," Theo protested.

"Then what am I to you, Theo?" Y/N asked, and there was something vulnerable in her voice that made his chest ache. "Because sometimes I think... but then you say things like this, and I realize I might not know at all."

She was gone before he could answer, leaving him alone with the weight of his own cowardice and jealousy.

It was safe to say the Yule Ball was torture. 

Theo went with Daphne Greengrass, who looked beautiful, but all he could do was watch Y/N dancing with Cedric Diggory. She looked radiant in pale green silk, her hair swept up in an elegant style that made her look older, more sophisticated. She was laughing at something Cedric said, and Theo felt like someone was twisting a knife in his chest.

"You're being pathetic," Draco said, appearing at his elbow with a glass of punch. "She's your best friend. Go talk to her."

"She's not speaking to me," Theo replied, not taking his eyes off Y/N.

"Then make her speak to you," Pansy said, joining them. "Apologize. Grovel if you have to. But fix this, Theo. You're both miserable."

Before Theo could respond, Cedric Diggory appeared beside him. "Nott," he said with a polite nod. "Could I have a word?"

Theo followed him to a quieter corner of the Great Hall, his stomach churning with anxiety.

"I know you care about Y/N," Cedric said without preamble. "I know you're worried about her. And I want you to know that I understand why."

"Do you?" Theo asked, surprised by the older boy's directness.

"You two are bestfriends. She talks about you all the time," Cedric said with a slight smile. "How brilliant you are, how funny, how you've been her closest friend since childhood. She values your opinion more than anyone else's, which is why your disapproval is hurting her so much."

Theo felt guilt wash over him. "I didn't mean to hurt her."

"I know," Cedric said kindly. "You want what's best for her. But Theo... she's not going to be happy until you two work this out. She's spending what should be the most magical night of her school career worrying about whether her best friend still cares about her."

"Of course I care about her," Theo said fiercely.

"Then show her," Cedric said simply. "Dance with her. Make her laugh. Be the friend she needs you to be."

Theo looked at him with new respect. " I’m sorry for what I said. You're a good bloke, Diggory."

"I try to be," Cedric replied. "Now go. Before she starts crying again."

Theo found Y/N sitting alone at one of the tables, looking lost and sad despite the beauty of the evening. 

He approached cautiously, his heart pounding.

"Y/N?" he said softly. "Would you dance with me?"

She looked up at him with surprise, then suspicion. "I thought you disapproved of my choice in partners."

"I was an arse," Theo said honestly. "I was jealous and stupid and I said things I didn't mean. Cedric is a good man, and if he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you."

"You were jealous?" Y/N asked, and there was something in her voice that made Theo's pulse quicken.

"I've been your partner for everything since we were children," he said, offering her his hand. "Potions projects, study sessions, midnight conversations in the common room. I guess I wasn't ready to share you."

Y/N took his hand, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. "You're my best friend, Theo. Nothing is going to change that."

As they swayed to the music, Theo wanted to tell her that he didn't want to be just her best friend. He wanted to tell her that he'd been in love with her for years, that seeing her with Cedric made him want to hex something, that the thought of anyone else holding her like this made him feel physically ill.

Instead, he held her close and whispered, "I'm sorry, Y/N. For everything."

"I know," she whispered back, and when the song ended, she hugged him tight. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he said, and meant it more than she would ever know.

Φ

The memory faded as his owl returned with Y/N's response. Theo's hands shook slightly as he opened the letter.

Theo, I missed you too. Meet me at St. Mungo's tomorrow at noon. I get off work then. Y/N P.S. – I'm glad you're safe. I heard about the drinking.

It was short, but it was enough. Theo felt hope bloom in his chest for the first time in days.

The next day, Theo arrived at St. Mungo's thirty minutes early, carrying a bouquet of Y/N's favorite flowers – a mixed bouquet of white and baby pink peonies, simple and elegant. He'd spent an hour at the florist, rejecting arrangement after arrangement until he found one that felt right.

When Y/N emerged from the hospital in her lime-green Healer robes, Theo felt his breath catch. She looked tired, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"You look terrible," she said as she approached, but there was fondness in her voice.

"You look beautiful," he replied honestly, offering her the flowers.

She accepted them with a small smile, burying her face in the blooms. "Peonies. You remembered."

"I remember everything about you," Theo said, and the words came out more intense than he'd intended.

Y/N looked up at him, something unreadable in her expression. "Theo..."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "About the party, about everything. I was trying to be a good Man of Honor, and instead I was a disaster."

"You were trying to be perfect," Y/N said softly. "You always try to be perfect for everyone else, but Theo... I don't need perfect. I just need you."

Before he could respond, she stepped forward and hugged him. “I’m really sorry, I over overeacted”

Theo wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

"I missed you so much," she whispered against his chest, and he could hear tears in her voice.

"I missed you too," he said, tightening his hold on her. "More than you know."

They stood there for a long moment, holding each other in the middle of the busy street, and Theo allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't lost her after all.

The next few days passed in a blur of wedding preparations and stolen moments. Theo threw himself into his role as Man of Honor with renewed determination, handling everything from flower arrangements to seating charts with meticulous attention to detail. But more importantly, he was there for Y/N in all the ways that mattered.

When she was stressed about the menu, he made her laugh with impressions of the catering staff. When she was overwhelmed by the guest list, he helped her organize everything into manageable categories. When she was tired from long shifts at St. Mungo's, he brought her dinner and listened to her stories about difficult patients and healing magic.

He was careful not to cross any lines, but he let himself flirt just a little. Compliments that lingered a moment too long, touches that weren't quite platonic, smiles that held promises he couldn't quite voice. And Y/N seemed to respond, her cheeks flushing when he told her she looked beautiful, her breath catching when his fingers brushed hers as he handed her documents to review.

"You're different," she said one evening as they sat in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, wedding invitations spread across the coffee table between them.

"Different how?" Theo asked, looking up from the RSVP he was reviewing.

"More... present," she said thoughtfully. "More focused. Like you're actually here instead of thinking about where you'd rather be."

"I am here," Theo said seriously. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

Y/N looked at him with those perceptive eyes that saw too much. "Theo..."

"What?" he asked, his heart racing.

"Nothing," she said, but she was smiling. "Just... thank you. For everything. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," Theo said, and he meant it with every fiber of his being.

The lingerie shopping was Astoria's idea, though she claimed it was traditional for the bride to have her closest friends help her select something special for her wedding night. Theo had tried to bow out, claiming it was too personal, but Y/N had insisted.

"You're my Man of Honor," she said. "And you have excellent taste. I trust your opinion more than anyone's. You’ve probably taken off more lingerie than anyone I know."

So Theo found himself in the most exclusive boutique in Diagon Alley, surrounded by silk and lace and trying very hard not to think about Y/N wearing any of it.

"What about this?" Y/N asked, holding up a set in deep red that made Theo's mouth go dry.

"It's... nice," he managed, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Nice?" Y/N laughed. "That's the best you can do? Come on, Theo. I need honest opinions here."

"You want honesty?" Theo asked, moving closer to examine the lingerie. "It's beautiful, but it's not you. Too bold, too... obvious."

"Then what is me?" Y/N asked, and there was something in her voice that made Theo look at her more carefully.

He walked through the boutique, ignoring the more bold pieces, until he found what he was looking for. The set was white and made of delicate lace, elegant and sophisticated but with an innocence that was purely Y/N.

"This," he said, holding it up. "This is you."

Y/N took the set from him, her fingers brushing his as she examined it. "It's beautiful," she said softly. "But it's so... pure."

"You are pure," Theo said, his voice rough with emotion. "You're the most beautiful, most perfect woman I've ever known."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with tension. Then Y/N looked away with her cheeks flushed.

"I'll try it on," she said quietly.

Theo waited outside the dressing room, his heart pounding so hard he was sure everyone in the boutique could hear it. When Y/N emerged, his breath caught in his throat.

If seeing her in the wedding dress had been otherworldly, this was something else entirely. She looked angelic, vulnerable, absolutely breathtaking. The white set clung to her curves while the delicate lace suggested rather than revealed, and Theo thought he might actually die from wanting her.

"Well?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Perfect," Theo said, his voice rough. "You're absolutely perfect."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the rest of the world fading away. Theo could see the pulse beating in Y/N's throat, could see the way her breath had quickened, could see something in her eyes that looked like...

"I'll take it," Y/N said suddenly, breaking the spell. "We should go."

Later that evening, they were back at Grimmauld Place, ostensibly working on seating arrangements but really just enjoying each other's company. Y/N was curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea, looking more relaxed than Theo had seen her in weeks.

"Theo," she said suddenly, her voice thoughtful. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he replied, setting down his quill.

"Do you ever have doubts?" she asked. "About big life decisions, I mean. About whether you're making the right choice."

Theo's heart began to race. "What kind of doubts?"

"I don't know," Y/N said, staring into her tea. "It's just... getting married is such a big step. And moving to Romania... I'd be leaving everything behind. My job, my friends, my family..." She looked up at him. "You."

"Y/N," Theo said carefully, "what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm scared," she admitted. "Charlie is wonderful, but sometimes I wonder if I'm ready to give up everything else for him."

This was it. 

This was the moment Theo had been waiting for. 

He could see the doubt in her eyes, the fear, the uncertainty. All he had to do was tell her the truth. Tell her that she didn't have to choose between love and everything else, because he was right here. Tell her that he'd been in love with her for years, that he'd never stopped loving her, that he'd wait forever if she'd just give him a chance.

He opened his mouth to speak, the words right there on the tip of his tongue.

"Y/N, I—"

The Floo network flared to life, and Narcissa Malfoy stepped through in a flurry of elegant robes and barely controlled panic.

"Y/N, darling, thank Merlin you're here," Narcissa said, rushing forward. "We have a crisis with the rehearsal dinner. The venue has double-booked, and we need to find a new location immediately, and the caterers are threatening to cancel, and I simply don't know what to do."

The moment was broken. Y/N was immediately in crisis management mode, her personal doubts pushed aside in favor of wedding logistics. And Theo was left sitting there, the words he'd been about to say dying in his throat.

"Don't worry, Aunt Cissy," Y/N said, already reaching for her planning notebooks. "We'll figure it out. Theo, can you help me look through the backup venue list? Maybe we could even do it at the Manor?"

"Of course," Theo said, though his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.

As they threw themselves into solving the rehearsal dinner crisis, Theo couldn't help but feel like he'd just missed the most important moment of his life. Y/N had been ready to hear him, ready to consider that maybe Charlie wasn't the right choice after all.

But the moment was gone, and Theo was left wondering if he'd ever get another chance to tell her the truth before it was too late.

Tagglist:

@loudastronautwasp

[scriptedinkbyxim]

The Maid of Honor

Part Five: Madam Mystique

The one where Theodore Nott trusts the wrong person and it ends backfiring straight in his face. Or the one where Slytherins and Griffindors attend the same party.

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Reader, Charlie Weasley x reader.

Warnings: Slight Angst. Pinning. The Slytherin´s being rich kids

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

Theodore Nott stood in the middle of his flat, surrounded by elegantly wrapped gift boxes, silk ribbons, and scattered parchment with his careful planning notes. 

Three weeks until the wedding. 

Three weeks until Y/N would become Mrs. Weasley and move to Romania, taking his heart with her across the continent. He pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the pristine white and gold gift boxes he'd been assembling for the past two hours.

Each box contained carefully curated items he'd spent weeks selecting: expensive French perfumes, luxurious silk scarves, delicate jewelry from Diagon Alley's finest boutiques, and handwritten notes with inside jokes that only Y/N would understand. Nothing but the best for Y/N's bachelorette party—she deserved perfection, even if it meant Theo had to organize it himself.

The distinctive sound of his Floo network activating made him look up from where he was tying a particularly stubborn bow. Pansy Parkinson stepped through first, her sleek black hair perfectly styled despite the magical transportation, followed by Draco Malfoy brushing imaginary soot from his expensive robes, and finally Blaise Zabini with his characteristic lazy grin.

"Theo, mate, what's all this?" Blaise asked, surveying the scene with raised eyebrows. "Looks like you've ransacked half of Diagon Alley."

"Gift boxes for Y/N's bachelorette party," Theo replied, not looking up from his meticulous work. "Everything needs to be perfect."

Draco picked up one of the completed boxes, examining the intricate gold ribbon work. "This is some serious dedication, Nott. Most people just buy a bottle of wine and call it a day."

"Y/N isn't 'most people,'" Theo said quietly, finally meeting their eyes. "She deserves the best."

Pansy settled herself on his sofa, accioing a glass of wine from his kitchen. "Oh, this is painful to watch. You're planning the perfect bachelorette party for the woman you're hopelessly in love with, who's marrying someone else in three weeks. It's like watching a tragic Muggle romance film."

"I'm not in love with—"

"Please," Pansy interrupted, taking a sip of her wine. "We've all seen how you look at her. How you've always looked at her. The only person who doesn't know is Y/N herself, and sometimes I wonder if she's just pretending not to notice."

Blaise collapsed into a chair, conjuring his own drink. "Come on, Theo. We're your friends. We've been watching this pathetic dance for years. Why don't you just tell her how you feel?"

"Because she's happy," Theo said firmly, returning to his gift wrapping with perhaps more force than necessary. "She's marrying Charlie Weasley in three weeks, and she's happy. I'm not going to ruin that for her."

"But are you happy?" Draco asked, and the genuine concern in his voice made Theo's hands still on the ribbon he was tying.

Before Theo could answer, Pansy stood up abruptly. "Well, this is all very touching, but I came here for a night out, not a therapy session. I'm going to find some real entertainment."

"Where are you going?" Draco called after her.

"To find a pub where the conversations don't revolve around Theodore Nott’s love life," she replied, heading toward the door.

"She's afraid of connecting with her feminine side," Draco said with a smirk as the door closed behind her.

Blaise snorted, but then turned to Theo with a more serious expression. "Alright, mate. We're here now, and you clearly need help. What can we do?"

Despite himself, Theo felt a wave of gratitude toward his friends. "I suppose I could use some help with the ribbon work. My fingers aren't as steady as they used to be."

For the next hour, the three of them worked in companionable silence, Draco proving surprisingly adept at creating perfect bows while Blaise handled the more delicate jewelry arrangements. It was almost like their Hogwarts days, except now they were adults dealing with adult problems like unrequited love and impending marriages.

They were just finishing the last box when a tawny owl tapped at the window. Theo recognized it as one of Daphne's family owls and felt his stomach tighten with apprehension. His relationship with Daphne had ended years ago, but she still had a talent for complicating his life.

The letter was brief and written in Daphne's precise handwriting:

Theodore, I heard about Y/N's bachelorette party. I have the contact information for the entertainment witch who performed at Millicent Bulstrode's party – you remember, the one Y/N couldn't stop talking about? She was absolutely enchanted by the performance. I thought you might want to book her for Y/N's party. Best regards, Daphne P.S. – I do hope you know what you're doing.

Attached was a small card with the name "Madame Mystique" and contact information.

"Good news?" Blaise asked, noting Theo's expression.

"I think so," Theo replied, though something about Daphne's postscript made him uneasy. "Daphne sent me information about an entertainment witch. Apparently, Y/N loved her performance at Millicent's bachelorette party."

"Millicent Bulstrode?" Draco looked up from organizing the completed gift boxes. "I remember that wedding. You and Y/N went together, didn't you?"

Φ

Two years ago

The reception tent was elegant, draped in white silk and fairy lights that cast a warm glow over the dancing couples. Theo adjusted his dress robes and glanced around the crowd, looking for Y/N. He found her standing near the dessert table, her pale green dress making her skin glow in the magical lighting.

"Having fun?" he asked, approaching with two glasses of champagne.

"It's beautiful," Y/N replied, accepting the glass with a smile. "Millicent looks so happy."

They stood in comfortable silence, watching the newlyweds dance. Y/N's eyes were suspiciously bright, and Theo noticed her wiping away a tear.

"You're crying," he observed gently.

"It's just... they look so in love. So sure of each other." She took a shaky breath. "Do you think I'll ever have that?"

"Of course you will," Theo said without hesitation. "You deserve everything good in this world, Y/N. Love, happiness, someone who sees how extraordinary you are."

She looked at him then, something unreadable in her expression. "What about you? Do you want that kind of love?"

"I..." Theo started, then stopped. The truth was sitting right there between them, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. "I don't know if I'm the settling down type."

Y/N's face fell slightly, but she nodded. "Come on, let's get some dessert. I'm starving."

At the dessert table, Theo ordered two pieces: a blueberry lemon cupcake for himself and a chocolate brownie for Y/N. They found a quiet corner table, and without thinking, they began sharing, Y/N stealing bites of his cupcake while he helped himself to her brownie.

"I'm surprised Millicent agreed to invite you," Y/N said with a teasing smile. "Considering you basically broke her heart back at Hogwarts."

Theo rolled his eyes. "Millicent is a nice girl, and I was a douche. There's a difference." He paused, giving Y/N a mock-serious look. "You're mean, you know that? Millicent, contrary to you, has always thought I was handsome. She used to say my moles were cute."

"Oh, please," Y/N laughed, but there was something different in her voice. "I only teased you to keep your ego in check. But I've always found you handsome, Theo. That striking smile of yours, those heart-stopping stormy blue eyes..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked down at his lips.

The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. 

This was it, Theo thought. 

This was the moment he'd been waiting for his entire life. He could lean forward, close the distance between them, tell her how he felt, kiss her the way he'd been dreaming of for years.

But Y/N had been drinking, and her cheeks were flushed with alcohol and emotion. She was vulnerable, caught up in the romance of the wedding, and Theo couldn't take advantage of that. 

He wouldn't.

Before he could decide what to do, Millicent's voice rang out across the reception. "Ladies! Time for the bouquet toss!"

Y/N's face lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced out of her chair. "Oh, I have to try to catch it!"

Theo watched her go, his heart pounding with what might have been. He stayed at the table, nursing his champagne and watching as Y/N positioned herself among the other single women. When Millicent threw the bouquet, it sailed in a perfect arc directly into Y/N's waiting hands.

Her joy was infectious, her laughter ringing out as she threw her head back in delight. Their eyes met across the crowd, and for a moment, Theo felt his heart full to bursting with love for this extraordinary woman who had no idea how completely she owned his soul.

Φ

"Theo?" Blaise's voice brought him back to the present. "You alright, mate? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," Theo said, shaking his head to clear the memory. "Just thinking about that wedding. It was a good night."

Draco and Blaise exchanged a look that clearly said they weren't buying his casual tone, but they didn't push. Instead, Draco began packing up the completed gift boxes while Blaise helped clean up the ribbon scraps.

"We should head out," Draco said, checking his watch. "Astoria's expecting me for dinner. But seriously, Theo, if you need anything for the party, just owl us."

"Thanks," Theo said, meaning it. "I appreciate the help."

After they left, Theo immediately wrote to Madame Mystique, requesting her services for Y/N's bachelorette party. He spared no expense, wanting only the best entertainment for what would hopefully be a perfect evening.

The day of the party Grimmauld Place had been transformed. 

Theo had spent the morning levitating furniture, arranging flowers, and setting up elegant seating areas throughout the main rooms. Kreacher had outdone himself with the catering, preparing an array of delicate canapés and Y/N's favorite desserts. Everything was perfect, or it would be if Theo could stop his hands from shaking.

The guests began arriving at seven, and Theo quickly realized he'd made a strategic error. The guest list was an uncomfortable mix of Y/N's friends and family and the Weasley family, plus friends. The two groups seemed to naturally gravitate toward opposite sides of the room, creating an invisible but obvious divide.

Harry Potter kept glancing around the renovated house with obvious discomfort, while Draco Malfoy looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Ron Weasley was making no effort to hide his distrust of the Slytherin contingent, and Herm kept shooting worried looks between the two groups. 

It was a recipe for disaster, and Theo was trying desperately to prevent it.

Y/N, radiant in a flowing silver dress that complemented her hair, seemed oblivious to the tension as she greeted her guests. She was in full hostess mode, making sure everyone had drinks and trying to facilitate conversations between the disparate groups.

Just as Theo was beginning to think he might manage to keep the peace, a magnificent fire flower materialized in the center of the room with a dramatic burst of flame. The magical bloom was stunning, its petals seeming to dance with actual fire, and attached was a card in Charlie's familiar handwriting:

My dearest Y/N, I wish I could be there to celebrate with you tonight, but I couldn't let the evening pass without sending you something beautiful. Fire flowers only last a few hours after being cut, so I had to time this perfectly. I hope it brightens your party as much as you brighten my life. All my love, Charlie P.S. – Only three more weeks until you're Mrs. Weasley!

Y/N's face lit up with pure joy as she read the card, and she pressed it to her heart with a happy sigh. Theo felt his stomach twist with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. 

Of course Charlie would send something romantic and thoughtful. 

Of course Y/N would love it.

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur’s little sister, exclaimed, admiring the magical flower. "Charlie, 'e 'as such a romantic 'eart."

"Fire flowers are incredibly rare," Hermione added, clearly impressed. "He must have had to special order this weeks in advance."

Theo forced a smile and tried to ignore the way his chest felt tight. "It's beautiful, Y/N. Charlie has excellent taste."

"Isn't it perfect?" Y/N beamed, carefully levitating the fire flower to a place of honor on the mantelpiece. "I can't believe he timed it so perfectly. He knows I love magical flowers."

The Weasley contingent seemed to relax slightly at this display of Charlie's thoughtfulness, but Theo noticed Harry Potter looking around the room with renewed interest.

"This place looks incredible," Harry said to Y/N. "I barely recognize it from when the Order was stationed here."

Y/N's face lit up with pride. "Thank you! Theo and I spent months renovating when we moved back from New York two years ago. We wanted to honor the house's history while making it feel like a home again."

"It must have cost a fortune," Astoria Greengrass commented, and Theo noticed Draco shooting her a warning look. "Draco and I have been trying to renovate Malfoy Manor, and the expenses are staggering."

Y/N shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the implications of the comment. "Oh, I honestly don't know the exact cost. It didn't make much of a difference to my vaults, so I never really kept track."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Ginny Potter looked confused. "Vaults? Plural?"

"Oh, Y/N is filthy rich," Pansy said with a lazy grin, apparently finding the situation amusing. "She inherited everything from the Lestrange, Crouch, and Black family lines after the war. Ancestral homes, vacation properties, investments, Gringotts vaults — the whole lot. And she still chooses to work as a Healer because she actually cares about helping people."

"Pansy!," Y/N said quietly, a flush creeping up her neck.

"What? It's true," Blaise continued, clearly enjoying the shocked expressions on the Gryffindor faces. "Most people would retire on a fraction of what she inherited, but our Y/N is too noble for that."

"All while you have about a hundredth of Y/N's fortune and still are a lazy toad," Draco said with their usual banter, compleatly ignorant to the rest of the room mood.

“Working and labour is not for people like us,” Blaise defended himself with a smirk.

"At least Y/N puts her money to good use." Theo added, trying to dissolve the awkwardness.

"Says the man who spent more on tonight's party than most people make in a year," Pansy said with her knowing smile. 

The Slytherin friends laughed at their familiar dynamic, but Y/N notticed the way the other guests were looking at them – like they were speaking a foreign language, like their casual discussion of wealth was somehow offensive. Like they were the same spoiled brats of before the war and nothing had changed.

"Sirius wanted Harry to have Grimmauld Place and all of his belongings," Ron said suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge and cutting trough the laugh. "He hated all the Black’s and their pureblood manía and dark magic."

The room went dead silent. Y/N's face went pale, and she looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Ron," Hermione hissed, but the damage was done.

"I didn't…I didn't knew that," Y/N said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. " I never met Sirius and I’m really sorr Harry, but it wasn't Sirius to give. He was only the temporal guardian until I became of age. It was my dad’s home…it’s meant to stay in the Black family."

Harry nodded, shooting Ron a furious look. "I know, and I’ve never wanted to live here or to have more money that what I already do. Y/N is right, besides she is about to become family and this house belongs with family."

The tension in the room was suffocating. Theo could see Y/N's hands trembling as she tried to compose herself, and his protective instincts kicked into overdrive.

Only Salazar knew how much Theo wanted to punch Ronald Weasley squared in the face in that moment. 

"I think it's time for the entertainment," Theo announced loudly, clapping his hands together. "I arranged something special — the same performer from Millicent Bulstrode's bachelorette party. Y/N, you loved her, right?"

Y/N looked at him with confusion. "Theo, I don't think—"

But it was too late. The Floo network flared to life, and through it stepped not the elegant, mysterious performer from Millicent's bachelorette party, but a woman in gaudy, mismatched robes with wild hair and a panic grin.

"Greetings, party-goers!" the woman announced in a voice that could shatter glass. "I am Madame Mystique, and I'm here to make this night MAGICAL!"

What followed was a disaster of epic proportions. Madame Mystique's first trick involved conjuring what were supposed to be beautiful butterflies, but instead filled the room with giant, aggressive moths that dive-bombed the guests. Her second trick turned all the champagne into a bubbling, purple substance that smelled distinctly of cabbage. By the time she attempted to levitate Hermione for her grand finale and instead sent her crashing into the dessert table, the party had devolved into chaos.

"ENOUGH!" Y/N shouted, her voice cutting through the mayhem. "Stop! Everyone, just... stop!"

Madame Mystique looked genuinely bewildered. "But the show isn't over! I haven't even gotten to the part with the dancing skeletons!"

"GET OUT!" Y/N yelled, pointing toward the Floo. "Take your moths and your cabbage champagne and GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

The entertainment witch huffed indignantly but complied, disappearing through the Floo in a swirl of gaudy robes and theatrical smoke.

Theo looked around the room at the disaster he'd created. Moths were still circling the ceiling, the dessert table was destroyed, and several guests were trying to clean purple champagne stains from their robes. Across the room, he caught sight of Daphne Greengrass with a satisfied smirk on her face, and understanding crashed over him like a cold wave.

She'd done this on purpose. She'd sent him the wrong entertainment witch, knowing it would ruin Y/N's party. This was her revenge for... what? For him never loving her the way he loved Y/N? For her own inability to move on?

"Y/N," he started, but she was already moving toward the door.

"Thank you all for coming," she said, her voice carefully controlled. "I'm sorry the evening was such a disaster. Please, take the gift boxes on your way out."

She was gone before anyone could respond, leaving Theo standing in the wreckage of what was supposed to be a perfect night.

The guests began to leave quickly, the Weasley's muttering among themselves while his friends shot Theo sympathetic looks. Pansy paused beside him on her way out.

"You need to fix this," she said quietly. "Go after her."

Theo didn't need to be told twice. He found Y/N in the back garden, sitting on the stone bench where they'd shared so many conversations over the years. She was still wearing her beautiful silver dress, but her shoulders were shaking with suppressed sobs.

"Y/N," he said softly, sitting down beside her.

"Don't," she said without looking at him. "Just... don't."

"I'm sorry," he said anyway. "I thought I was doing something nice. I thought—"

"You thought what?" She finally looked at him, and he could see the tears streaming down her face. "You thought hiring some deranged woman to terrorize my guests would be nice? You thought watching Charlie's family look at me like I'm some spoiled princess would be fun?"

"That's not what I meant to happen," Theo said desperately. "Daphne gave me the wrong information. She sabotaged the party."

"Daphne?" Y/N's voice went dangerously quiet. "Why would she do that?"

"I trusted her. I thought—"

"You thought what, Theo?" Y/N stood up abruptly, pacing in front of the bench. 

"She said you loved the entertainment at Millicent's party—"

"I never said that!" Y/N exploded. "I thought that woman was absolutely dreadful! I spent the entire evening hiding in the bathroom because her tricks kept backfiring! Where did you get the idea that I enjoyed that disaster?"

Theo felt the blood drain from his face. "But Daphne said—"

"Daphne lied, Theo! She's been lying to you for years, and you keep believing her because you feel guilty about breaking up with her for Salazar knows why! Well, congratulations, she finally got her revenge."

"Y/N, please—"

"No, Theo. I can't do this anymore." She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking very small in the moonlight. "Charlie's family already thinks I'm some spoiled rich girl who doesn't belong in their world. Tonight just proved them right. And now I have to face them at my own wedding, knowing they all think I'm some pretentious princess who throws tantrums when her parties don't go perfectly."

"That's not true," Theo said, standing up and reaching for her. "You're not pretentious, you're not spoiled, and anyone who thinks that doesn't know you at all."

"But they do think that," Y/N said, stepping away from his outstretched hand. "And maybe they're right. Maybe I am too different from them. Maybe Charlie and I are making a mistake."

"Don't say that," Theo said, and he was surprised by how much it hurt to hear her doubt her relationship with Charlie. "You love him. He loves you. That's what matters."

"Is it?" Y/N looked at him with such sadness that Theo felt his heart break. "Because right now, it feels like that isn't enough. It feels like I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to fit into a world where I don't belong, with people who will never accept me."

"Y/N—"

"I need to go," she said, pulling out her wand. "I need to think. About the wedding, about Charlie, about everything."

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere I can be alone," she said, and with a soft pop, she was gone.

Theo stood alone in the garden, surrounded by the ruins of his best intentions. In the distance, he could still hear the faint sounds of guests leaving through the Floo, but all he could think about was the look of devastation on Y/N's face and the way she'd stepped away from his touch.

He'd wanted to give her the perfect bachelorette party, and instead, he'd given her a disaster that might have ruined her engagement. He'd wanted to make her happy, and instead, he'd made her question everything she thought she wanted.

Three weeks until the wedding, and Theo was beginning to wonder if there would even be a wedding at all. The thought should have filled him with hope – if Y/N called off the engagement, maybe he'd finally have a chance to tell her how he felt. But instead, all he felt was guilt and the terrible knowledge that he'd hurt the one person he'd never wanted to hurt.

As he stood there in the moonlight, watching the spot where Y/N had disapparated, Theo realized that loving someone meant wanting their happiness even when it destroyed your own. 

And right now, Y/N was anything but happy, and it was entirely his fault.

@loudastronautwasp

[scriptedinkbyxim]

˗ˏˋ ★ ──── 1 TO 100 ‼

「 “ 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘵. ” 」

eventual james potter x fem!reader; inevitable angst and annoyance as james slowly matures over his time at hogwarts. slowburn. total word count: 56.3K

2.7K | FIRST YEAR.

5.8K | SECOND YEAR.

2.7K | THIRD YEAR.

6.0K | FOURTH YEAR.

6.4K | FIFTH YEAR.

14.0K | SIXTH YEAR.

18.7K | SEVENTH YEAR.

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Rumor Has It

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James Potter x Slytherin!reader

synopsis: James Potter is in a secret relationship with Y/N, but things spiral when someone mistakes Regulus Black for Y/N’s boyfriend and spreads the rumor around Hogwarts. How far will he go before he can’t take it anymore?

wordcount: 2, 376

note: 16+ fluff.

part II. part III.

He was in Gryffindor— the golden boy, Quidditch captain, and this year's Head Boy. She was a Slytherin— sharp-tongued, keen, and entirely off-limits.

James Potter had a reputation to maintain, and people finding out that you and him were dating would spark nasty rumors, ones that could damage both of your standings. So, one night, hidden in the shadows behind one of the castle's staircases, he proposed that you two keep your relationship a secret.

You immediately agreed. You'd never hear the end of it if someone knew, anyway.

But right now, you were perched on James's lap, your back pressed against the cold walls of an unused classroom. The boy kissed you with hunger, like he hadn't seen you for months.

"Missed you so much, love." He murmured against your lips, hands snaking at the nape of your neck, pulling you impossibly close.

You smiled into the kiss, fingers tangling on his messy curls. "We were just in the same class not an hour ago."

"Details, details," He hummed, fingers creeping dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

Sure, the two of you shared classes. But between the rift of the two houses— Gryffindor and Slytherin— you two were only reduced to stolen glances, shared smirks behind textbooks, fleeting brushes of fingers as you two passed by each other. Moments that meant everything, but looked like nothing, especially under the watchful eyes of his rowdy friends.

The same group that made a habit of declaring an absolute hatred for your house. Who never missed a chance to sneer at Lucius Malfoy or mock Severus Snape. Who would lose their minds if they found out that James Potter, of all people, was sneaking around with a Slytherin girl.

It all happened at last year's Yule Ball after party. Everyone was beet drunk, sneaking in a couple of firewhiskey and muggle beers and alcohols. You found James pissed drunk, staggering through the rose bush before puking out.

You were just trying to get some fresh air, having been suffocated in a room full of intoxicated young adults. You found him slumped against the stone bench, suit disheveled, crown of the night askew.

"Such an unexpected act from a Slytherin like you," James threw a lopsided smirk when you handed him a bottle of water that you just conjured.

"And such an expected act from a Gryffindor like you. So reckless and annoying." You muttered, rolling your eyes at him.

You expected him to leave you alone after that. Act like nothing happened.

But he didn't.

After that night, James couldn't stop seeing you— even when you weren't looking his way. Couldn't help noticing the twist of your mouth when you read, or how you sat in the far corner of the library where the sun always hit the table just right.

You knew who he was. Everyone did. The James Potter. The boy who pined after Lily Evans for six years. So, yes, you were skeptical. You thought it was a prank. A bet. Some stupid Gryffindor game orchestrated by his infamous friends.

But then weeks passed. Months. And he kept showing up. With books. With sweets. With flushed cheeks and sincere eyes. He started learning the little things about you— like how you tie your shoelace twice, or how you hummed when you were stressed.

And eventually, you gave in.

Honestly, your dating life was surprisingly good. Shocking, even. James turned out to be nothing like what you'd expected. He was thoughtful, passionate, and stupidly charming. He made you laugh. Made you feel seen. The problem was... well, it was a secret.

You weren't famous, per se. Sure, many people knew of you— top of your year, Slug Club regular, often praised by professors. But your name didn't echo towards the halls— not in a way that James's did. Which was fine. You liked it that way.

Most people would never expect you to be James Potter's secret lover. And that was fine, too. You were secure in yourself. Let them think what they want.

But the thing that pisses you off the most was when everyone still kept teasing James with Lily. It was relentless, to say the least. You've heard about the comments. Even his friends laughed about it, like it was some unshakeable part of his identity. You knew they meant no harm— that it was all good and fun— but Merlin, it gets exhausting. Especially now that both of them were Head Students. The school seemed obsessed with watching their every move.

Still, James never made you feel less. Never made you feel like you're the second best. And you were extremely grateful for that.

Sirius Black, for all his charms and recklessness, has an absolute talent for unknowingly stirring the pot.

"Do you reckon Y/n has a boyfriend?" He whispered during Flitwick's lecture, nudging James with his elbow.

James's head snapped toward him so fast. "What?"

Sirius smirked, "I mean, I know we said not to involve ourselves with Slytherins, but I could turn a blind eye. For her, I'd even forgive Malfoy."

James blinked. He felt his left eye twitch. His internal monologue was screaming.

Over my dead, hexed, and dismembered body.

"Who are you talking about?" Peter leaned in.

"Y/n Y/l/n." Sirius said without missing a beat, eyes still glued to where you sat a few rows ahead, effortlessly answering Flitwick's question. "Slytherin's babe."

James's hand gripped his quill so hard that it snapped in two. Sirius didn't even notice.

Peter let out a snort. "Oh, you're too late."

Sirius and James both turned to him, twin expressions of horror and confusion.

"Word is, your brother beat you to it."

Silence.

"What?" James whispered, his voice unnaturally high, which earned looks from Remus, who had been listening quietly.

"Yeah. Regulus. Everyone's basically saying they're a thing now." Peter shrugged.

James's jaw dropped.

"What? Since when? How did that happen?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know, mate. Probably because he has the same face as yours but isn't annoying?"

Sirius scoffed. "Rude."

James's ears almost turned into a violent shade of red. Regulus? REGULUS?!

Remus finally cut in, trying to hush them when he caught Flitwick casting a suspicious glare at them. He nudged Peter with his foot under the desk.

But James was already spiraling. He barely heard a word of the lesson after that. He just stared straight ahead, occasionally throwing a glance your way.

After class, he wanted to march straight up to you and ask you about this Regulus nonsense. But he couldn't. Not with Sirius bouncing beside him, talking about dinner plans, and not with Peter listing why Regulus "would totally pull."

And definitely not with Andromeda swinging her arm around your shoulder, chatting your ear off, pulling you toward the dungeons with the ease of someone who doesn't have a secret boyfriend fuming five feet away.

James and you just quietly exchanged glances before parting in different ways.

"So, what do you mean by Y/n and Regulus?" James asked once they were in the Gryffindor common room. He tried to sound disinterested, like he was just trying to gossip. "He's a year younger than her."

"So?" Remus sat across from him. "Age doesn't matter. They're both adults."

"W-well, yeah, but—" James tried to explain something, but failed to do so.

"Reg doesn't even have game." Sirius still looked bothered by the thought of his own brother having a romantic interest.

Peter leaned back in the chair. "Maybe he doesn't. But he has the face. Mysterious, brooding, those dark, haunted eyes. He looks like a bloody romance lead in a gothic novel, and Y/n's the artsy type. They probably sit in the library and bond over tragedies."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie... they do look good together," Remus added.

James looked at him and frowned. "What do you mean they look good together?"

Remus shrugged, "She looks like the kind of girl who'd fall for someone like him— quiet, witty, and handsome."

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. YOU'RE ALL WRONG. BECAUSE I'M DATING HER, YOU TWATS. James sat there, stewing in silence while his friends continued chatting. He barely said a word that night. Sirius assumed he was just sleepy, and Peter thought it was because of his Head Boy duties. But Remus?

Oh, Remus knew.

Later, when only the two of them were left behind, Remus caught up to James just before he went inside his separate Head Boy dorm.

"Hey," He called. "You dating someone?"

James froze.

"W-what?" He squeaked, trying to laugh it off,

Remus smiled, eyes too knowing. "Just asking. Valentine's day is coming up, after all. Lily might be expecting flowers from you. You know her type."

He winked and turned ahead towards the boys' dormitory, leaving James standing alone.

The next evening, James pulled you from the Great Hall after dinner and dragged you into his dorm, leaving no room for protest. His arm was slung over your shoulder like a possessive man, and now, you were on his bed— more accurately, you were pinned under him while he refused to let you go.

You'd barely managed to shuffle into his oversized Gryffindor Quidditch hoodie before he was already throwing himself at you like a starved dog.

He was quiet, oddly so, his arms wrapped around your waist firmly, his face buried into the crook of your neck. Ocassionally, you can hear him sniff you. He was literally inhaling your existence.

"...James?"

"Hmm..?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, fingers weaving through his dark curls— a trick you knew that would either soothe him or get him to talk. Hopefully both.

"You okay, love?" You asked, concern creeping into your voice. "You've been extra clingy tonight. More than usual. You've been practically attached to my hip like a koala."

He let out a muffled whimper against your neck, something between a grunt and a groan. Then, finally, he lifted his head and looked at you— brown, doe eyes, full pout in swing, and hair flopping boyishly on his head.

"Can I ask you something?" He said, very seriously.

Your fingers paused in his hair. "Of course."

"...Is there something going on with you and Regulus?"

Silence.

You blinked. "Regulus Black?"

James nodded miserably before burrowing his head into your lap.

"Love, what?" You asked, stunned and exasperated.

"I'm just asking." He mumbled. "People are saying things."

You laughed softly. "Okay, well, no. Nothing's going on with us. We're just friends. You know that."

James sat up. "Then why does everyone think you're dating him?"

You blinked again, trying to keep up with the sudden tempo change. His arms were crossed now, cheeks puffed out slightly, and brows drawn together like the cutest angry bear.

You bit back a smile. "I mean... maybe because we're friends and we do study together?"

"But I'm dating you!" He whispered-shouted, pointing at himself. "We've been together for months! Why is he the one everyone thinks you're snogging?"

"Probably because we're hiding this, James." You gestured at the two of you. "Like it's the crown jewels."

He flopped onto the bed with a dramatic groan. "Wormy heard the rumors. And you know he remembers everything and says it out loud like he's reading the newspaper headlines."

You lay down beside him and propped your head on your hand. "Okay... and what did he say?"

"That you and Regulus make sense. That you're both dark, mysterious, and brilliant, and pretty—"

You chuckled.

James glared at you. "And Moony agreed! He said you probably like quiet boys who look like they cry reading Wuthering Heights under the candlelight. What does that even mean?!"

You were full-on laughing now. "That does sound like Regulus."

James groaned again, rolling to his side so he could look at you. "And then Pads said you're pretty. And I almost popped a vein right there and then."

You gasped feigningly. "Sirius thinks I'm pretty? I must elope with him now."

"Don't joke like that!" He whined again.

You giggled, poking his chest. "I told you before, Regulus was just my friend. I help him with Potions, and he helps me with Charms. That's it. That's all."

James narrowed his eyes, still not convinced. "Are you sure you don't secretly like guys who brood?"

You booped his nose. "I only like you, Potter."

He huffed, a blush slowly creeping to his cheek. "...Really?"

"Yes. My sunshine, loud, chaotic boy."

James looked at you lovingly. But then, he tried to rally again, sitting up slightly. "I'm not jealous, by the way."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." He hummed. "I'm just saying. Regulus is all... poetic and quiet and mysterious and you like books and art and moody stuff—"

You raised a brow. "So... you are jealous."

"I am not!"

"You totally are." You sing-sung.

"Am not!"

"Then why are you pouting?" You teased, reaching over to squish his cheeks.

"I always pout." He grumbled, but didn't resist the affection.

"And why'd you drag me to your bed like a clingy boyfriend who lost his teddy bear?"

"Because I am your clingy boyfriend who lost his teddy bear."

"Aww," You cooed, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "My poor jelly baby."

"I'm not jelly," He said with a pout.

You peppered his face with kisses until he stopped sulking, which only took about eight seconds. You were now situated on his lap, hands cupping both of his cheeks, while his hands were on your waist, pulling you close.

"I like you, James Potter. Not my poetic, sad-boy friend. Not Sirius. Not Remus. Not Peter— although he is very entertaining."

"Thank Merlin." James sighed. "I don't think I could survive if I ever lost you to Regulus. I would become a monk."

"You? A monk? You couldn't go twelve hours without touching me."

He grinned, face buried in your shoulder. "You know me so well."

“I do. So trust me when I say you’re my favorite boy. The loudest, sweetest, most golden-hearted one of all.”

“Even if I don’t read Wuthering Heights?”

“Especially because you don’t read Wuthering Heights.”

James grinned.

And if you caught him muttering mine mine mine mine into your neck while you both fell asleep, you didn’t say anything.

But you definitely smiled the whole time.

©kjhbsies

taglist: @tamprongsobsessor

[scriptedinkbyxim]

I found this fanarts in Pinterest and they are litterally Theo Nott and Y/N Black. I love them 🥺

Read part 1 of the Series "The Maid of Honor" here

Credits for the images are not mine.

[scriptedinkbyxim]

The Maid of Honor

Part four: The Dress.

The one where there are four and a half weeks to the Wedding and Theo is on the hunt for Y/N's dream dress. Or the one were Pansy Parkinson's sixth sense never fails.

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Reader, Charlie Weasley x reader.

Warnings: Slight Angst.

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm really sorry if there is any mistake. I love Pansy, I love Theo and I love Y/N. Theo I'm cheering for you!!

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

Y/N's owl arrived at half past seven in the morning, its sharp tapping against Theo's bedroom window dragging him from the first decent sleep he'd managed in days. He'd spent most of his nights staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of his meeting with Charlie Weasley and trying to figure out how he was going to survive the next four and a half weeks without completely losing his mind.

The letter was from Y/N, written in her familiar neat script across expensive parchment that still smelled faintly of her perfume.

Theo Emergency dress shopping expedition today! Meet me at Madam Malkin's at ten. I need moral support and your honest opinion. Also, Pansy will be there, so prepare yourself for a long day. Love you! - Y/N P.S. - Charlie loved you, by the way. He said you're exactly what he expected my best friend to be like. Whatever that means.

Theo stared at the postscript for a long moment, trying to decode what Charlie had meant. Exactly what he'd expected? Safe? Unthreatening? The kind of man who could be trusted not to steal his fiancée?

If only Charlie knew.

Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was bustling with activity when Theo arrived, slightly out of breath from having to dodge through the crowded Diagon Alley streets. Through the shop's front window, he could see Y/N standing on a raised platform in the center of the fitting area, wearing what appeared to be a mountain of white silk and lace. Pansy was circling her like a predator, her dark eyes critical as she examined every seam and fold.

"You're late," Pansy announced as Theo entered, not bothering to look away from her inspection of Y/N's hem. "And you look terrible. Rough night?"

"Something like that," Theo muttered, settling into one of the chairs arranged around the fitting area. "How long have you been here?"

"Two hours," Y/N said, her voice slightly muffled by the seamstress who was pinning something near her shoulder. "We've tried on seventeen dresses so far, and Pansy has rejected all of them."

"They were all wrong," Pansy said firmly. "Too simple, too gaudy, too... pedestrian. Y/N Black is not getting married in some off-the-rack disaster that makes her look like every other witch who's ever walked down an aisle."

Theo looked at Y/N properly for the first time since entering the shop, and his breath caught in his throat. Even in a dress that was clearly not right for her – too much lace, too many ruffles, cut for someone with a completely different figure – she was breathtaking. Her dark hair was pinned up loosely, with a few strands escaping to frame her face, and her skin had that luminous quality it always got when she was excited about something.

She looked like a bride. She looked like someone else's bride.

"What do you think, Theo?" Y/N asked, turning carefully on the platform to face him. "Honest opinion."

Theo forced himself to actually look at the dress rather than the woman wearing it. It was expensive, clearly well-made, but it wasn't... her. The style was too fussy, too ornate for someone with Y/N's natural elegance. She looked like she was wearing a costume rather than a wedding dress.

"It's beautiful," he said carefully, "but it's not you."

"Thank you!" Pansy exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. "That's exactly what I've been trying to tell her. Y/N, darling, you're not a ruffles and bows sort of person. You need something sleek, sophisticated, something that complements your natural grace rather than competing with it."

Y/N's reflection caught Theo's eye in one of the full-length mirrors, and he saw something flicker across her face – disappointment, maybe, or resignation.

"Actually," Y/N said slowly, "I was thinking maybe something simpler might be better anyway. For a garden wedding, I mean. All this..." she gestured vaguely at the elaborate dress, "might be too much for the Burrow."

There it was again – that careful adjustment of her expectations, the way she was slowly editing herself to fit into Charlie's vision of what their wedding should be.

"The venue should accommodate the bride, not the other way around," Pansy said sharply, clearly thinking the same thing Theo was. "If you want elegance, darling, you should have elegance. Period."

"But Charlie said—"

"I don't care what Charlie said," Pansy interrupted, her voice unusually fierce. "This is your wedding dress, Y/N. The dress you'll wear when you promise yourself to someone for the rest of your life. It should be everything you've ever dreamed of, not some compromise to make other people comfortable."

Theo watched Y/N's face in the mirror, seeing the internal struggle playing out in her expression. She wanted the fairy tale wedding she'd dreamed about since childhood, but she also wanted to be the perfect bride for Charlie – uncomplicated, down-to-earth, grateful for whatever he offered.

"Maybe we should look at something less... formal," Y/N said finally, her voice small. "Something more appropriate."

"No." The word came out sharper than Theo had intended, and both women turned to look at him in surprise. He stood up from his chair, crossing to the platform where Y/N stood. "No, Y/N. Don't do this."

"Do what?" she asked, but her eyes were already defensive.

"Edit yourself to fit into someone else's idea of who you should be." Theo's voice was gentle but firm. "I've watched you do it before, and I won't watch you do it again. Not for something this important."

"I'm not editing myself," Y/N protested. "I'm being practical. The Burrow is a beautiful venue, and I want to choose something that fits—"

"The Burrow will be beautiful because you'll be there," Theo interrupted. "But that doesn't mean you have to diminish yourself to match the surroundings. Y/N, I've listened to you talk about your dream wedding since we were thirteen years old. I know what you want."

Φ

Five Years earlier - New York City

"It was perfect," Y/N had said, sprawled across Theo's bed looking at her parents' wedding pictures. "Look at this one – my mom looked like a princess."

Theo glanced over from the book he was reading to see her pointing at a photograph of a witch in an elaborate gown that seemed to float around her like liquid moonlight. The dress was simple in its basic design but exquisite in its execution – silk that caught the light like water, delicate beadwork that looked like stars scattered across fabric, a train that flowed behind the bride like magic made manifest.

"It's nice," Theo said, though 'nice' seemed inadequate for something so beautiful.

"Nice?" Y/N sat up, clutching the picture to her chest. "Theo, it's gorgeous. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Look at the way it moves when she walks, like she's floating. And the beadwork – it must have taken months to do by hand."

"You sound like you're already planning your wedding," Theo teased.

"Maybe I am," Y/N said, her cheeks turning pink. "Is that silly? Planning something that might never happen?"

"It's not silly," Theo said quietly. "And it will happen. Someday, you'll have exactly the wedding you want."

Y/N smiled at him, bright and trusting. "I know you don't believe in marriage but…"

At that Theo could only think of how wrong she was. He had been picturing his marriage ever since he was thirteen years old and Y/N started to become obsessed with weddings. It was always the same dream. Him at the altar and Y/N as his bride.

Φ

"You showed me that dress your mother wore at her wedding while we were unpacking when we first  arrived in New York," Theo said now, his voice soft with memory. "The one with the silk that looked like moonlight and the beadwork like stars. You said it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen."

Y/N's eyes widened, clearly surprised that he remembered such a specific detail from so long ago.

"You said you wanted to feel like a princess on your wedding day," Theo continued. "You wanted something elegant and sophisticated and magical. Don't give that up because someone else thinks it's too much."

"But Theo—"

"No buts." He reached up to take her hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. "Y/N, Charlie loves you. If he really loves you, he'll want you to have the wedding of your dreams, even if it's not what he originally envisioned. And if he doesn't..." Theo trailed off, not trusting himself to finish that sentence.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, her dark eyes searching his face. "You really think I should have the dress I want? Even if it doesn't fit with the whole 'rustic garden party' theme?"

"I think you should have everything you want," Theo said, meaning it with every fiber of his being. "Starting with the dress."

Pansy, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange, cleared her throat. "Well," she said, her voice suspiciously thick, "now that we've established that Y/N is going to have the wedding dress she deserves, perhaps we should actually find it."

She turned to Madam Malkin, who had been watching the scene with interest. "Do you have anything in the style of that Celestina Warbeck wedding spread from five years ago? The one with the silk charmeuse and the hand-beaded bodice?"

Madam Malkin's eyes lit up. "As a matter of fact, I do have something. It's in the back – a custom piece that was never collected. The bride called off the wedding at the last minute, poor dear. But it might be perfect..."

She bustled away, leaving Theo and Y/N alone on the platform while Pansy examined a display of veils nearby.

"Theo," Y/N said softly, "why do you remember that dress? it was a long time ago"

Because I remember everything about you, Theo thought. Because I've been cataloging every dream you've ever shared with me, every wish you've ever made, every detail that makes you happy. Because I love you so much it physically hurts sometimes.

"Because it was important to you," he said instead. "I pay attention when something matters to you."

Y/N's expression grew soft, almost wondering. "You do, don't you? Even when I don't realize it myself. Like yesterday, when Charlie suggested the Burrow – you could tell I wasn't really happy about it, couldn't you?"

"You get this look," Theo said carefully, "when you're trying to convince yourself you're okay with something that you're not actually okay with. Your smile gets a little too bright, and your voice gets a little too cheerful. You did it after Cedric died, when you were trying to pretend you were healing faster than you actually were."

"And I'm doing it now," Y/N said, not really a question.

"A little bit," Theo admitted. "Y/N, there's nothing wrong with wanting your wedding to be beautiful. There's nothing wrong with wanting things to be special and elegant and perfect. That doesn't make you shallow or superficial – it makes you someone who believes that important moments deserve to be celebrated properly."

Before Y/N could respond, Madam Malkin returned carrying a dress bag that seemed to shimmer with its own light. She hung it carefully on a hook and unzipped it with reverent hands.

The dress that emerged was everything Y/N had ever dreamed of and more. It was made of silk so fine it seemed to be woven from moonbeams, with an embroidered bodice that would showcase her figure perfectly and a skirt that flowed like water. The neckline was elegant but not revealing, the bodice was long and fitted with tiny pearl buttons framing her figure, and scattered across the entire dress were thousands of tiny crystals that caught the light like stars.

It was sophisticated and timeless and absolutely, perfectly magical.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "Oh," she whispered. "Oh, it's..."

"Perfect," Pansy finished, her voice awed. "Y/N, it's absolutely perfect."

"Would you like to try it on?" Madam Malkin asked gently.

Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice. Theo stepped down from the platform to give her privacy while Madam Malkin and her assistants helped her into the dress, though he could hear Y/N's soft gasps of delight from behind the curtain.

"She's going to look incredible," Pansy said quietly, settling into the chair beside him. "That dress was made for her."

"It was," Theo agreed, his chest tight with anticipation and dread. Y/N in her perfect dress, walking down the aisle toward someone else.

"You know," Pansy continued, her voice carefully casual, "there's still time."

Theo turned to look at her. "Time for what?"

"To tell her how you feel."

The words hung in the air between them like a curse. Theo felt all the blood drain from his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said automatically.

Pansy gave him a look that could have melted steel. "Theodore Nott, I have known you since we were five years old. Do you honestly think I haven't noticed the way you look at her? The way you've always looked at her?"

"Pansy—"

"The way you remember every little detail about her dreams, the way you drop everything when she needs you, the way you're breaking your heart trying to make sure she gets the perfect wedding to someone else?" Pansy's voice was gentle but relentless. "Theo, darling, you're not as subtle as you think you are."

Theo stared at his hands, unable to meet her eyes. "It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She's happy. She's in love with Charlie, and she's happy. That's what matters."

"Is she, though?" Pansy asked. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like she's trying very hard to convince herself she's happy. There's a difference."

Before Theo could respond, the curtain around the fitting area was pulled back, and Y/N stepped out in the dress.

Every coherent thought in Theo's head evaporated.

She was radiant. The dress fit her like it had been made specifically for her body, the silk flowing over her curves like liquid light. The crystals scattered across the fabric caught the shop's lighting and threw tiny rainbows across the walls. Her dark hair contrasted beautifully with the pale silk, and her skin seemed to glow.

She looked like a fairy tale princess. She looked like everything she'd ever dreamed of being.

She looked like the most beautiful thing Theo had ever seen in his life.

"Well?" Y/N asked, her voice nervous as she turned slowly in front of the mirror. "What do you think?"

Theo opened his mouth to speak and found that no words would come. He was drowning in the sight of her, in the way the dress made her look ethereal and perfect and so achingly beautiful that it physically hurt to look at her.

"You look..." he started, then had to clear his throat and try again. "Y/N, you look absolutely stunning."

The smile that spread across her face was like sunrise after the longest night. "Really?"

"Really," Theo managed, though his voice came out rougher than he'd intended. "Charlie's going to forget how to breathe when he sees you in that dress."

Y/N's smile faltered slightly at the mention of her fiancé, and Theo caught the flicker of something – uncertainty? doubt? – that crossed her face before she smiled again.

"I hope so," she said, but there was something hollow in her voice.

Pansy, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange, stepped forward to examine the dress more closely. "It's perfect," she declared. "Absolutely perfect. Y/N, this is the dress. This is the one."

"But is it too much?" Y/N asked, her old uncertainty creeping back in. "For a garden wedding, I mean. Maybe I should find something more... appropriate."

"Y/N," Theo said firmly, standing up so he was closer to her. "Look at yourself. Really look."

She turned to face the full-length mirror, and Theo moved to stand behind her, his hands coming to rest lightly on her shoulders.

"What do you see?" he asked softly.

Y/N stared at her reflection for a long moment. "I see... me," she said quietly. "But the best version of me. Like I'm everything I always wanted to be."

"Exactly," Theo said, his thumbs brushing along her shoulder blades through the silk. "You see yourself as you're meant to be. Don't let anyone take that away from you."

In the mirror, Y/N's eyes met his, and for a moment, Theo forgot how to breathe. There was something in her gaze – gratitude, affection, and something else, something deeper that he didn't dare name.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For remembering. For caring. For always knowing exactly what I need to hear."

"Always," Theo replied, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

The moment stretched between them, fragile and perfect and completely impossible. Then Y/N's attention was caught by something in the mirror, and the spell broke.

"Oh no," she said, her face going pale. "What time is it?"

Theo checked his watch. "Nearly two o'clock. Why?"

"I'm supposed to meet Charlie and his mother at three to discuss catering," Y/N said, already moving toward the changing area. "I lost track of time completely."

As Y/N disappeared behind the curtain to change, Pansy moved to stand beside Theo.

"Four and a half weeks," she said quietly.

"What?"

"You have four and a half weeks to figure out what you're going to do," Pansy said, her voice gentle but firm. "Because watching you two just now... Theo, that wasn't the look of a woman who's completely sure about her choice."

"You're imagining things," Theo said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Am I?" Pansy asked. "Then tell me, when Y/N was looking at herself in that dress, what did you see in her face?"

Theo was quiet for a long moment, remembering the way Y/N had looked at her reflection – the wonder, the happiness, the way she'd seemed to glow from within.

"She looked like herself," he said finally. "Like the person she's always been inside."

"And when you mentioned Charlie's reaction to the dress?"

Theo closed his eyes, remembering the way Y/N's smile had faltered, the uncertainty that had flickered across her face.

"She looked... scared," he admitted. "Like she wasn't sure he'd understand."

"Exactly," Pansy said softly. "Y/N is trying very hard to be the woman Charlie wants her to be. But what if that woman isn't who she really is? What if she's giving up pieces of herself to fit into his vision of their life together?"

"It doesn't matter," Theo said desperately. "She made her choice. She's engaged to him, she's planning a wedding with him, she's moving to Romania with him. Even if she's having doubts—"

"Doubts that you could help her work through," Pansy interrupted. "Theo, you know her better than anyone. You've loved her longer than anyone. If there's even a chance that she's making a mistake—"

"I won't do that to her," Theo said firmly. "I won't sabotage her happiness because of my own feelings. If she wants Charlie, if she thinks he'll make her happy, then I'll help her have the best wedding possible and I'll smile while I do it."

Pansy studied his face for a long moment. "You're an idiot," she said finally, but her voice was fond.

"Probably," Theo agreed.

Y/N emerged from the changing area in her regular robes, the wedding dress carefully draped over her arm. Her hair was slightly mussed from changing, and her cheeks were still pink with excitement.

"Madam Malkin," she called, "I'll take it. The dress, I mean. How much do I owe you?"

As Y/N handled the business side of the purchase, Theo found himself staring at the dress bag, thinking about how she'd looked in it. Like a princess from a fairy tale. Like everything she'd ever dreamed of being.

Like the most beautiful bride who would ever walk down an aisle toward someone who wasn't him.

"All finished," Y/N announced, looking slightly breathless. "The dress will be ready for a final fitting next week, and then..." She trailed off, her expression growing uncertain again.

"And then you'll have the perfect dress for your perfect wedding," Theo said, forcing enthusiasm into his voice.

"Right," Y/N said, but she didn't sound entirely convinced. "Perfect."

They walked out of Madam Malkin's together, Y/N chattering nervously about her upcoming meeting with Mrs. Weasley and all the decisions that still needed to be made. Theo listened with half an ear, most of his attention focused on the way the afternoon sunlight caught in her hair, the way she gestured when she was excited, the way she unconsciously moved closer to him when the street got crowded.

Four and a half weeks. Four and a half weeks until she walked down the aisle in that incredible dress, toward a man who wanted her to be someone other than who she really was.

Four and a half weeks to let her go.

Or, as Pansy had suggested, four and a half weeks to figure out if he should fight for her instead.

Theo pushed that thought away as soon as it formed. Y/N had made her choice. She loved Charlie, was planning a life with him, was excited about their future together. Her momentary doubts about the dress and the venue were just normal pre-wedding nerves, nothing more.

But as they reached the Apparition point and Y/N hugged him goodbye, Theo couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted today. The way she'd looked at herself in that dress, the way she'd looked at him in the mirror, the way she'd seemed to glow when he'd told her she deserved everything she wanted...

"Theo," Y/N said softly, interrupting his thoughts. "Thank you. For today, for the dress, for... for always believing I deserve good things."

"You deserve everything," Theo said, meaning it completely. "Don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise.”

Y/N smiled at him, soft and grateful and heartbreakingly beautiful. "I love you, Theo. You know that, right?"

"I know," Theo said, the words like knives in his chest. "I love you too."

She Disapparated with a soft pop, leaving Theo alone on the busy street with the memory of her in that dress burned into his mind forever.

Four and a half weeks.

He wasn't sure he was going to survive it.

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Hahaha this made me laugh so much

fml (a Manchild by Sabrina Carpenter inspired fic)

you rope theo into going to a party with you and accidentally fall for his juvenile mannerisms (theo nott x ravenclaw!reader)

a/n - decided to polish this up and publish it in honour of the man's best friend announcement!! I know how controversial the title and cover art has been but i have Thoughts about it if anyone wants to hear them/discuss hehe (I rlly need to stop using this as my sabrina sideblog help) also lets pretend u can actually see shit from alllll the way up in the Ravenclaw towers and the 'decent' joke is (quite obviously) plagiarised from tumblr I think, I did not come up with that lmao

tropes/warnings - fluff, comedy, technicallyyy fake dating? but it's not the focus here

word count - 3.7k

taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167

Theo pushed his hair off his clammy forehead for the hundredth time that morning. He was long overdue for a haircut he kept forgetting about except on mornings like these, when his overly long fringe kept falling in his eyes during the laps he ran with the rest of the Quidditch team around the perimeter of the pitch. It was barely 9 am when most students were still enjoying breakfast. It was far too early for him to already be sweating buckets.

Theo slowed to a stop, pushing his hair back once again as he seriously considered ripping it from his skull. He scanned the pitch. It was barely 9 am, and he could hear the usual faint murmur of students having breakfast in the Great Hall. There was a diffused quality to the light of the cloudy day and the grass was still damp with morning dew. It was peaceful. Typical. Calm.

And yet.

Theo looked around, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Something felt...off. He gently rolled out the ankle he had strained last week, starining his ears. It felt fine. It didn't even ache from the humidity of the morning. He watched his teammates jogging along the other side of the field. The pitch was quiet, but no quieter than it usually was. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the way they did in Quidditch games when he would sense rather than see a Bludger coming his way.

Mattheo jogged past, pausing briefly.

"Ankle?" he asked breathlessly.

Theo shook his head mutely, still thinking hard to the sound of Mattheo's panting as he caught his breath. Just as he gave up on figuring out the strange feeling, he noticed Mattheo frowning at something over his shoulder.

Theo was beginning to hear a set of quick, light footsteps distinct from the rest of the team's sluggish yet relentless footfalls. He turned and immediately got barrelled over by a blur of white and navy blue, knocked flat on his back with a tongue stuck down his throat.

Blinding sunlight rushed in as the figure pulled away. Dazed, Theo was distantly aware of Mattheo gawking at the sight while someone told him off in a waspish tone. He regained his wits just as Mattheo jogged off, sniggering under his breath. Tentatively, he turned his sight to the Ravenclaw girl peering down at him.

"If anyone asks, we were celebrating our 1-month anniversary last night."

Theo shut his eyes briefly, willing himself not to pass out. There was an awful ringing echoing in his skull. Was this what a concussion felt like? And what was that about a one-month -

His eyes popped open despite the searing pain. "Month?"

The girl gave him an impatient look. "Yes. As far as anyone is concerned, we've been dating for the past month."

Theo gaped at you. He had to be hallucinating. How much pain medication did he take last night?

"We have?"

Her lips thinned into a line.

"I can't tell if you're being purposefully dense," she muttered, sitting back on her heels. Theo propped himself up on skinned elbows.

"You, and I," her silhouette repeated, stabbing a finger between the two of you, "one month."

Theo squinted up at her through the sunlight she wasn't blocking. "W-"

"One. Month." she repeated firmly as she stood, brushing imaginary dirt off her pants. She scanned the pitch casually, appraising the rest of the team with a mildly critical look.

"That is all. Enjoy your laps."

Theo watched her walk off back to the castle, befuddled.

After feeding Madam Pomfrey some fib about running laps the wrong way, Theo had his elbows bandaged up. He was barely in time for Ancient Runes and was too restless to pay attention. By the time class finished, all Theo wanted was to tuck into a warm, comforting lunch, even if it was a little early.

He walked into the Great Hall and there you were, like a bad penny, already halfway through a bowl of soup at the Ravenclaw table.

He visibly winced. You had the gall to look cluelessly concerned.

"Merlin, what happened to your elbows?"

Theo just about had an aneurysm.

"You," he forced out through clenched teeth. "You happened."

You looked genuinely surprised.

"Don't tell me you're still upset about this morning?" When Theo remained stony-faced, you rolled your eyes, turning back to your lunch. "God, that was so three hours ago."

Theo stared at you, speechless.

"Don't you think you owe me some kind of explanation?"

You glanced at your watch impatiently. "Fine. I've got 20 minutes before Transfiguration anyway. Sit down."

He didn't. You cleared your throat anyway.

"So, I have this stupid roommate who will not get off my back about bringing someone to this 80s-themed party her cousin's hosting at Hogsmeade this weekend, because she's convinced I'm still hung up on my ex from 5 months ago."

You didn't sound like you were going to be done anytime soon. Theo reluctantly slid into the seat opposite yours.

"Are you still hung up on your - ?"

You nodded, waving a hand carelessly. "Oh, yeah, totally. The pining - it's a whole thing. Don't worry about that. Anyways, she was going at me again last night, and the only way I could get her to shut up was to say that I was bringing someone. So, obviously, she asked who, and - now this part is kind of your fault - and I looked out the window, and there you were, decked out in your Quidditch gear and whatnot, and I thought you were as good of a choice as any. So I said I was bringing you."

Theo blinked at you.

"You told your roommate you're bringing me to a party I'm only just hearing about."

"Mhm."

"And it's my fault," Theo continued tonelessly, trying to make sense of what you were saying, "for going to Quidditch practice...as part of the Quidditch team."

You shrugged. "Yeah, I 'spose. Anyway, she was like, no way, and I was like, way, and I knew she wouldn't believe me if I said we had only just started seeing each other, so I had to say it was, like, our one-month anniversary. But she was still watching me like a hawk, so I had to spend half the night outside of our room. And I think she could still tell I was lying - "

"Still? Are your lies always this elaborate?"

You looked a little embarrassed. "I might have a bit of a problem with...telling the truth, or the whole truth, sometimes." You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Anyway, I had to get to you before she did, but you both take Ancient Runes together on Thursday mornings, so I had to catch you before then, so..." you gestured vaguely. Theo raised his eyebrows.

"That's it? She's never seen the two of us in the same room, but my word is enough to convince her we've been dating?"

"Oh, please. She hardly sees me. I've got quite a bit on my plate."

Theo eyed your book bag, bursting at the seams with textbooks and parchment.

"I'll say. When do you even find the time to, er, pine after your ex?"

You shot him a withering look. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Right now? The person who didn't tackle me at eight in the morning."

You rolled your eyes. "I can't believe you're still going on about that," you muttered. "It wasn't even eight."

You continued eating your food while Theo mulled over your story. His mind drifted to your face, to the sharp, strong cut of your nose and the plain, straightforward edge to your words. You had a bit of a problem with the truth, there was no denying that, but something about your story didn't seem fabricated or exaggerated. It was a largely unappealing scenario that would only be too easy to refute, which made it all the more convincing.

Theo tilted his head. Huh. Maybe it was the concussion talking, but you were starting to seem a little less insane. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

"Why don't you tell your stupid roommate to pi- erm, go away?"

You glared at Theo.

"Stupid Roommate is my best friend. I would kill for her."

It was like he couldn't say anything right. Theo sighed, massaging his temples.

"...okay. What's stopping me from telling her I don't know you?"

You put on a pained look.

"Babe. You can't be saying those things about your one-month girlfriend."

"You're not my - "

"Besides," you continued, finishing up your soup, "we've been holding hands for, like, the past fifteen minutes."

Theo glanced around at the students filing into the Great Hall for lunch, some of whom were eyeing your clasped hands with interest. He yanked his hand away.

"So good luck explaining that to...literally everyone here." You stood, gathering your things. Theo marvelled at the resilience of your book bag when it didn't split open as you pulled it up to your shoulder.

"I'm off for Transfiguration. See you Saturday at 6."

And when you bent to press a kiss to Theo's cheek, he didn't bother leaning away.

Theo was staring into a mirror, hair slick with gel, trying to fix this cowlick that kept falling right in the middle of his forehead. Around him, chaos ensued.

Enzo was studying a retro muggle video game for his Muggle Studies project and, naturally, Mattheo had to screw with him as much as he could. All the while, Blaise was yelling at them to take their scuffle elsewhere, telling them off for crumpling the plastic sheaves of his good binder. Somewhere in the background, there was a knocking sound. Did ankle sprains cause tinnitus?

Empty weekends like these were always rough, but they were especially so when all four of the boys were cooped up together. The air outside was heavy and sticky with the week-long drizzle that refused to let up, making the walk to Hogsmeade downright unbearable.

Theo shook his head, separating his curls. The knocking got louder. It was definitely real, presumably by someone coming to tell them to keep it down. The cowlick fell stubbornly against his forehead once again. From outside the bathroom, there was a violent crash.

That was it. After multiple warnings and 'don't make me come over there's, Theo had finally reached the end of his fuse. He stepped out of the bathroom.

"Oi! Cut it out, all of you. Mattheo, give Enzo his game back. Enzo, go sit in the corner 'til you've calmed down. Blaise, get over yourself and get a new binder."

The thudding on the door increased in volume.

"And somebody get the fucking door!"

Theo retreated back into the bathroom. The noise immediately ceased. He sighed in relief. Finally, some peace and quiet.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.

"Theo, someone's here for you."

Theo fiddled with his hair, only half-listening. "Tell them to go away."

"It's a girl."

"Tell her to go away."

"Are you decent?"

Theo looked up at the sound of the striking voice. He had only heard it a couple of times, and never before this week, but it had the kind of piercing quality that made it stand out in a crowd. He glanced at the clock. You were 15 minutes early.

And too impatient to wait for a reply, apparently. The door swung open to reveal you, dressed in frills and ribbons with gigantic hair, carefully shielding your eyes, next to a shit-eating-grin-wearing Mattheo.

"Is he decent?" you asked Mattheo.

"Morally? Debatable. But he has pants on if that's what you're asking."

You dropped your hand. Your eyes swept his outfit. You didn't look too pleased.

"You're not even dressed yet?"

Theo looked down and scanned the very outfit you were eyeing disapprovingly.

"This is what I'm wearing."

He looked up and caught a glimpse of your face.

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

You looked visibly aggrieved by his fashion choice.

"It's so...boring. I said '80s' and you thought black shirt, black jeans?"

"What's wrong with a black shirt, black jeans?"

"Nothing. Unless you're going to an 80s-themed party."

You stepped away from the bathroom's threshold while Theo frowned over what he had thought was a simple, perfectly acceptable outfit.

"This was the best I could come up w - yeah, sure. Go ahead. Go through my clothes. Turn my wardrobe upside down. Go right ahead. It's not like this is my room. Or my clothes. Merlin forbid I claim an inch of this space as m- "

"Are you done?" You asked, extricating yourself from the recesses of Theo's wardrobe. He couldn't tell if your hair looked more or less frizzy. You held out a frilly, powder blue suit Mattheo had bought him as a gag gift for his seventeenth birthday.

"No."

"Just try it on!"

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, please? I probably won't even like the look of it."

"Brilliant. Then what I'm wearing is perfect."

You gave him a look. "But I have to make sure that I won't like it."

Between his roommates and you, Theo's resolve was worn out. Grudgingly, he changed into the suit. If anything, his cowlick made him look even more stupid in this get-up.

"You look so much better," you chirped happily, approvingly examining the patterned insides of the jacket's pockets. "Don't you think?"

Theo narrowed his eyes at your too-innocent smile.

"I think," he said, "you're wasted in Ravenclaw."

"It's just one night, Theo," you continued, like you hadn't heard him. "I don't even have a camera or anything."

"But I do. Smile."

Theo was blinded by a flash from Mattheo's camera from behind you. He scowled at Mattheo, who was too busy pulling out the printed polaroid. He eyed it with satisfaction as it began to develop. "I always knew this day would come," he murmured.

Meanwhile, you doubled your wheedling efforts.

"Please? For me? The girl who knocked you down in front of all of your teammates and won't hesitate to do it again?"

Theo glared at you. "You're not helping your case, you know."

But you must have been doing something right, because five minutes later, he was waving goodbye to his roommates in the powder blue suit. The two of you walked up to the castle's gates into the Muggle car Theo had rented for the evening. As Theo turned the key in the ignition, adjusting his mirrors and seat, you reached over to fix his hair.

"Don't touch my - " Theo swatted your hand away, warily checking his reflection in the rearview mirror. Shockingly, his cowlick was gone. His hair was exactly how he wanted it.

"Long hair suits you. Did you know that?" you said, following his gaze into the mirror, in that assertive, know-it-all tone of yours, like it was a universally agreed-upon fact that Theo looked good with long hair. Grumbling, Theo shifted the gearstick into drive, turning down the road to Hogsmeade.

"Can I try?" you asked for the sixth time, perched on the boot of the Cadillac convertible. Theo pushed his fringe out of his eyes, feeling the back of his neck grow moist.

"I've almost got it," he replied from somewhere underneath the hood for the sixth time.

You rolled your eyes, fanning yourself with a magazine you had found in the backseat. Halfway to Hogsmeade, the car decided to sputter and choke to a stop. What Theo had initially diagnosed as a five-minute problem had grown into a twenty-minute problem and showed no sign of ending.

“I thought you said it was the carburettor,” you called out, already feeling sluggish in the heat of the setting sun.

“I said I think it’s the carburettor.”

You rolled your eyes.

There was a loud clang, a muffled curse, and an alarming hissing sound. Sighing, you abandoned your magazine and hopped off the boot. You came around the hood to see Theo shaking out his hand, like he had been burned, swearing colourfully under his breath.

While he had the sense to leave his jacket in the car, the front of his shirt was splattered with windshield wiper fluid. A rogue curl had escaped and was now sticking to his forehead. His collar had wilted in the heat, and half of his sleeves were probably crumpled beyond help from where they had been folded to his elbow.

And yet, infuriatingly, he still managed to look good. Good in that maddening, ravenous way where you couldn't decide if you wanted to ditch him on the side of the road or climb him like a tree.

Theo tapped at a knob tentatively with his wrench, dropping it when the knob sparked. You had to physically shut your eyes. He was so pathetic, so hot.

“I'm pretty sure I’ve isolated the issue,” Theo was saying, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Definitely a leak of the, erm, braking fluid.”

You fixed Theo with a look. You narrowed his eyes at him.

“You made that up just now.”

“Did not,” he replied, a little too fast.

“Did so.”

Theo frowned, squinting into the hood. “Just five more minutes,” he mumbled, picking up his wrench again.

You muttered something rude under your breath and pushed him out of the way gently, not that he resisted much. You pushed back your hair and studied the interior of the hood.

"See?" came Theo's slightly whiny voice from somewhere cooler. "There's too many fiddly things, it's impossib-"

You pulled out your wand. After a little trial and error, a few whispered spells, the engine gave a healthy sputter and purred back to life.

You stepped back and closed the hood. Theo blinked.

“Huh.”

“Huh,” you repeated mockingly.

You examined your watch and hurried back to the passenger seat. "Now let's get going before it gets too dark."

"Yes, ma'am," Theo said, climbing into the driver's seat.

You flicked his ear in response. You could see the smile biting into his cheek as he checked his mirrors, not noticing that his cowlick was back with a vengeance.

You looked out the windshield, watching the trees go by as you tried to ignore how you were half in love him.

The party was more fun than you expected. And it did feel a little less lonely having someone to drive you there and back, all the while patiently taking the brunt of your teasing. Theo took you back to the castle, walked you up to your common room with surprising stamina (he didn't run all those laps for nothing, then) and bid you goodnight.

And that was the end of that.

Only, you were realising, part of you didn't want it to end. Against your will, everywhere you looked, Theo kept catching your eye - in the corridors, on the staircases, in the Great Hall, on the pitch. It was his fault, really, taking up so much space with all that height. Taking up so much of your mind with all those lazy half-smiles and crinkled eyes.

A couple of mornings later, Theo was jogging laps on the Quidditch pitch again. His grey shirt was soaked in sweat, his fringe falling into his eyes. The early morning air had that familiar crisp edge and the rhythmic murmur of his teammate's footfalls. Theo slowed to a walk, wiping his face with his shirt, when he felt it - that same pricking at the back of his neck. That same unease. He looked in the direction of the Great Hall warily.

“Stopping so soon?” you called out suddenly, from where you had been watching him in the stands.

Theo startled so hard he almost tripped.

“Fuck - how long have you been there?”

"Long enough," you replied languidly, taking in the endearing rosy flush of his cheeks. You waved Mattheo's Potions textbook in the air as Theo walked towards you.

"You can't be doing that to people with already elevated heart rates," he scolded weakly, taking the book you were holding out to him.

You grinned. “Mattheo’s. Try not to get too much sweat on it.”

Theo nodded. "Thanks. I've been needing to level my bed with something."

You swallowed the smile that threatened to break across your face. Merlin forbid he realised you found him funny. You tried to keep your tone light, casual.

“So… what’re you reading these days? Anything interesting?”

Theo looked a little lost. “Like...books?"

You held back an eye roll. “Yeah, I guess.”

"Oh. I've been re-reading Gatsby lately."

You nodded. “Classic. You should tell me about it sometime, over coffee."

Theo’s brow furrowed.

“You've never read The Great Gatsby?"

You gave Theo a dirty look, unable to maintain your polite veneer. "Of course I've read The Great Gatsby. I just wanted to hear your take on it."

Theo stared at you some more. "You want to hear...what I think, about Gatsby?"

"Yeah, sure." It was almost insulting, really, of how disbelieving he appeared of your good, perfectly innocent intentions.

“Uh… okay?” Theo said cautiously.

You stood, partly disappointed, partly peeved. “Great," you said flatly. "Good chat, then.”

You turned away and started walking back to the Great Hall, kicking yourself. How much plainer did you have to make the invitation?

Theo watched you walk off, still a little confused. He jogged back to the pitch, resuming his laps. What was all that about? You wanted to hear what he thought about Gatsby? Not much, especially in comparison to you. He'd hardly have anything to contribute to the conversation that you didn't already know. Why, the two of you would be better off talking about literally anything else.

Theo stopped. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.

"WAIT - talk - coffee - yes, Y/N, YE- "

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Theo you're my favorite emotionally constipated boy

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024

[scriptedinkbyxim]

The Maid of Honor

Part 3: The Bridesmaid's Party

The one where Theodore Nott's former flings haunt him. Or the one where Theodore Nott's pretends to be Y/N Black's Fiance��.

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Reader, Charlie Weasley x reader.

Warnings: Slight Angst. Misogyny.

A/N: I love Ginny and Daphne. How I wrote them is entirely OC just for the sake of this fic.

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

The morning sun filtered through the enchanted windows of Madam Puddifoot's newest establishment, carefully concealed among the bustling streets of Muggle London. Theodore Nott adjusted his perfectly tailored navy blazer and checked his watch for the third time in five minutes. The brunch meeting was scheduled to begin at eleven, and punctuality had always been one of his more reliable traits—unlike his tendency to charm his way out of uncomfortable situations, which he suspected would be sorely tested today.

The tea shop's expansion into the Muggle world had been a stroke of genius, Theodore had to admit. The same sickeningly pink décor and lace doilies that had made him cringe during his Hogwarts years now served as the perfect camouflage for a gathering that would have raised eyebrows in the wizarding world. After all, it wasn't every day that former Death Eater childrens sat down for tea with members of the Order of the Phoenix's most prominent family.

Theodore's fingers drummed against the white tablecloth as he surveyed the private dining room Madam Puddifoot had prepared for them. Round tables adorned with pink roses and enough frilly decorations to make even the most devoted romantic queasy. He supposed it was fitting—this entire wedding planning process felt like navigating a minefield of past grudges and present tensions, all wrapped up in a bow of forced civility.

The door chimed, and Theodore's posture straightened instinctively as the first guests began to arrive. Fleur Weasley entered with the grace of a practiced socialite, her platinum blonde hair cascading over her shoulders as she guided three-year-old Victoire by the hand. The little girl's Veela heritage was already beginning to show, her silvery-blonde curls catching the light as she skipped beside her mother.

"You must be Theodore," Fleur greeted him with a polite smile, her French accent still evident after all these years in England.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you Fleur," he replied, rising to kiss her cheek in the continental fashion she preferred. "And this must be Victoire. You’re even bigger than what Y/N told me."

Victoire peered up at him with curious blue eyes, apparently unimpressed by his attempts at charm. Theodore couldn't blame her—children had always been more perceptive than adults when it came to detecting insincerity.

The next arrivals came in quick succession: Ginny Weasley, noticeably pregnant and looking rather fierce despite her condition, with five-year-old Teddy Lupin in tow. The boy's hair was currently a shocking shade of turquoise, and he seemed determined to touch everything within reach. Following close behind were the Slytherin contingent—Pansy Parkinson, Astoria Greengrass, and Daphne Greengrass, each looking as though they'd rather be anywhere else.

Theodore's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as Daphne's cool gaze met his. Even after all these years, the memory of their explosive breakup still stung. She'd been beautiful, intelligent, and everything a proper pureblood heir should have wanted in a wife. The problem was that she'd also been perceptive enough to recognize that his heart belonged to someone else entirely.

"Theodore," Daphne said, her voice honey-sweet with just a hint of venom. "Still playing the devoted friend, I see. How... noble of you."

"Daphne," he replied evenly, refusing to take the bait. "You look radiant as always."

Pansy snorted softly, clearly enjoying the tension, while Astoria shot her older sister a warning look. The dynamic between the Greengrass sisters had always fascinated Theodore—Astoria, the younger, more diplomatic one who'd somehow managed to capture Draco Malfoy's heart and reform him into something resembling a decent human being, while Daphne remained sharp-edged and unforgiving.

The final arrival was the one that mattered most. Y/N Black entered the private dining room like she owned it, her dark hair swept up in an elegant chignon that emphasized the graceful line of her neck. She wore a simple but expensive sundress in a light lavender that brought out the light in her eyes—eyes that had haunted Theodore's dreams for more years than he cared to count.

"Sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly, pressing quick kisses to cheeks and accepting congratulations on her engagement with the practiced ease of someone born into pureblood society. "Things at St. Mungo’s  were absolutely mental."

Theodore watched her work the room, noting the way she seamlessly switched between the warmth she showed the Weasley women and the more formal courtesy she extended to her Slytherin friends. It was a skill they'd both learned early—the ability to navigate different social circles with ease.

When she finally reached him, her smile softened into something genuine. "Theo," she said, and the way she said his name made his chest tight with familiar longing.

"Darling," he replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek and inhaling the subtle scent of her perfume—something beachy and expensive that she'd worn since their fifth year. "You look beautiful."

"Flatterer," she accused, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Guilty as charged."

As everyone settled around the oversized table, Theodore found himself strategically positioned between Y/N and Astoria, with Daphne directly across from him. 

The seating arrangement felt like a chess game, with everyone calculating their moves and potential alliances.

Madam Puddifoot herself appeared to take their orders, her round face beaming with the satisfaction of hosting such an illustrious gathering. The menu was an eclectic mix of traditional British fare and continental delicacies, clearly designed to appeal to the diverse group of guests.

"So," Ginny said once their orders had been placed, "I suppose we should discuss the wedding plans. Charlie's been rather vague about the details, but I assume you'll want something traditional?"

The question seemed innocuous enough, but Theodore caught the subtle challenge in her tone. He'd learned to read between the lines of conversations from an early age, and this felt like the opening gambit in a much larger conflict.

"We're still deciding on the specifics," Y/N replied diplomatically. "There are so many traditions to consider from both families."

"Of course," Fleur interjected smoothly, "but surely you'll want the children to participate? Victoire would make an adorable flower girl, and Teddy could be the ring bearer."

Theodore felt the tension in the room ratchet up several degrees. He knew Y/N well enough to recognize the slight tightening around her eyes that meant she was choosing her words carefully.

"It's a lovely idea," she said, "but some of the more traditional ceremonies can be quite... lengthy. I wouldn't want the children to become restless."

"Pureblood high-society weddings don't usually include children," Daphne added with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "They're considered rather... disruptive to the solemnity of the occasion."

Ginny's expression darkened. "I see. And what about the reception? Surely that would be more appropriate for family?"

"The Blacks have always favored more intimate gatherings," Pansy said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Quality over quantity, you understand."

Theodore could practically feel the diplomatic temperature plummeting. This was exactly what he'd been dreading—the clash between Y/N's old world connections and her new family's more... egalitarian sensibilities.

"Well," Ginny said, her voice tight with barely controlled irritation, "I suppose that's Charlie's decision to make. Speaking of which, Y/N, have you given any thought to what you'll do after the wedding? About your career, I mean?"

Y/N's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "I'm sorry?"

"Your work as a Healer," Ginny clarified, though her tone suggested the clarification was anything but innocent. "Will you be continuing with your research, or...?"

The question hung in the air like a curse waiting to detonate. Theodore felt his protective instincts surge to life, recognizing the trap that had been laid. He knew Y/N's work meant everything to her—it had already saved countless lives, and she was on the verge of a breakthrough in magical healing that could revolutionize treatment for previously incurable conditions. She had hoped to continue with her research in Romania.

"I... well, Charlie and I haven't really discussed..." Y/N began, clearly flustered.

"It's just that most women find it difficult to balance a demanding career with family life. That is one of the reasons I left my quidditch career after I got pregnant," Ginny continued, seemingly oblivious to the way Y/N's face had gone pale. "And Charlie's mentioned wanting children sooner rather than later. I just assumed..."

"You assumed wrong," Theodore said quietly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

All eyes turned to him, and he felt the familiar weight of being the center of attention. It was a feeling he'd grown accustomed to over the years, though usually under more pleasant circumstances.

"I mean," he continued, his tone carefully neutral, "Y/N's research is far too important to abandon. She's on the verge of several groundbreaking discoveries. Surely Charlie understands that."

"Of course he does," Y/N said quickly, but Theodore could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "We just... there's time to figure all that out."

The conversation continued to deteriorate from there. Every topic seemed to hit a nerve—the guest list, the venue, the music, even the flowers became sources of contention. The Weasley women wanted something warm and inclusive, while the Slytherin contingent pushed for traditional elegance and exclusivity. Y/N found herself caught in the middle, trying to placate both sides while slowly being pulled apart by their competing visions.

Theodore watched it all with growing concern. He'd seen Y/N handle much worse situations with grace and diplomacy, but something about this particular conflict seemed to be getting under her skin. Perhaps it was the personal nature of the attacks, or maybe it was the realization that her two worlds might be fundamentally incompatible.

When the tension finally became unbearable, Y/N pushed back from the table with a bright, brittle smile.

"I think I need another drink," she announced, her voice artificially cheerful. "Anyone else?"

Before anyone could respond, she was already walking toward the small bar area that had been set up in the corner of the room. Theodore didn't hesitate—he rose from his seat and followed her, ignoring the curious looks from the other guests.

He found her at the bar, gripping the edge of the polished wood with white knuckles. Her carefully constructed facade had cracked just enough to reveal the stress and uncertainty beneath.

"That bad?" he asked quietly, settling beside her.

She let out a shaky laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to me," he assured her, then turned to the bartender. "Tea, please. Earl Grey, no honey." He glanced at Y/N. "And for the lady... let's see... an iced coffee with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla syrup, extra shot of espresso, light ice, and just a splash of condensed milk."

Y/N stared at him in amazement. "How do you even remember that?"

"I pay attention," he said simply, then added with a slight smile, "Besides, you've been ordering the same ridiculous coffee concoction since we were children."

The bartender set about preparing their drinks, and for a moment, they stood in comfortable silence. Theodore had always been good at reading Y/N's moods, knowing when she needed space and when she needed support. 

Right now, she needed both.

"They mean well," Y/N said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do they?" Theodore asked, genuinely curious. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like they're trying to remake you into their image of what Charlie's wife should be."

Y/N's laugh held no humor. "Maybe that's what he needs."

"Bullshit," Theodore said, his vehemence surprising both of them. "Charlie fell in love with you, not some sanitized version of you. If he wanted a traditional pureblood wife who'd give up her career to raise children and waited for him at home with dinner, he would have proposed to one like that."

Before Y/N could respond, a familiar voice interrupted their moment of peace.

"Well, well. If it isn't the infamous Theodore Nott and Y/N Black."

Theodore's blood turned to ice in his veins. He turned slowly, already knowing what he would find, and came face to face with Susan Bones. She looked much the same as she had during their Hogwarts years—pleasant features, kind eyes, and a smile that had once made him feel like the worst kind of bastard.

Φ

Seven Years Earlier - Hogwarts, Sixth year.

The Slug Club Christmas party was in full swing, and Theodore found himself wishing he were anywhere else. The dungeon had been transformed into something resembling a winter wonderland, complete with fake snow that never seemed to settle and enough mistletoe to stock a greenhouse. Professor Slughorn held court in the center of the room, regaling anyone who would listen with stories of his most famous former students.

Theodore adjusted his dress robes and scanned the room for Y/N. She'd been the one to invite him, after all—her membership in the Slug Club was a foregone conclusion, given her brilliant mind and impressive pedigree, while his own Death Eater connections had made him persona non grata in Slughorn's eyes.

He found her near the refreshment table, looking radiant in deep purple robes that brought out the silver threads in her dark hair. She was laughing at something Blaise Zabini had said, her head thrown back in genuine amusement, and Theodore felt that familiar stab of possessive longing that he'd been trying to suppress for years.

"Theo!" she called out when she spotted him, her face lighting up with a smile that made his chest tight. "You made it!"

"Wouldn't miss it," he lied smoothly, accepting the glass of punch she pressed into his hands. "Though I'm surprised Slughorn agreed to let me attend."

"I may have been persuasive," she admitted with a mischievous grin. "Besides, I needed a proper date for this thing. Can't have the other girls thinking I'm completely hopeless."

The word 'date' sent a jolt through Theodore's system, even though he knew she meant it casually. They'd been best friends since they were kids, but lately, the line between friendship and something more had been blurring in ways that terrified him.

"Well then," he said, offering her his arm with exaggerated gallantry, "shall we make our grand entrance?"

They'd barely made it three steps before Slughorn descended upon them like a particularly enthusiastic vulture.

"Ah, Miss Black!" the portly professor exclaimed, his mustache quivering with excitement. "And young Mr. Nott! What a delightful surprise!"

Theodore braced himself for the inevitable lecture about the company one keeps, but instead, Slughorn's eyes took on a speculative gleam.

"You know," the professor continued, apparently oblivious to their discomfort, "you two remind me so much of another couple I once knew. Your parents, Miss Black—Regulus Black and Genevieve Lestrange. What a tragedy that they were taken so young. They were quite the pair, you know. Brilliant minds, both of them, and so devoted to each other."

Theodore felt Y/N stiffen beside him. Her parents were not a subject she discussed lightly, and Slughorn's casual mention of their deaths made his protective instincts flare.

"Professor," Y/N began, her voice carefully controlled, "Theodore and I are just—"

"Oh, no need to be modest, my dear!" Slughorn interrupted with a knowing wink. "Young love is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I find it quite refreshing in these dark times. You make a lovely couple."

"We're not—" Theodore started, but Slughorn was already moving on, having spotted another student to ambush with his enthusiasm.

Y/N and Theodore stood in awkward silence for a moment, both processing what had just happened. Finally, Y/N spoke.

"Well, that was sufficiently mortifying."

"Could have been worse," Theodore said, trying to inject some levity into the situation. "He could have asked about our wedding plans."

Y/N laughed, the sound easing some of the tension between them. "Don't give him ideas. He's probably already planning the ceremony in his head."

Before Theodore could respond, another voice joined their conversation—one that made his stomach drop.

"Theodore? Is that really you?"

He turned to find Susan Bones approaching, her face bright with what looked like genuine pleasure at seeing him. Theodore's throat constricted as memories of their brief entanglement earlier that year came flooding back. It had been a mistake—one of many he'd made during his campaign of self-destruction—but Susan had taken it more seriously than he'd intended.

"Susan," he managed, his voice carefully neutral. "You look lovely."

"Thank you," she said, though her eyes had already shifted to Y/N with curious intensity. "I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Susan Bones."

"Y/N Black," his best friend replied politely, though Theodore caught the slight narrowing of her eyes. She'd always been protective of him, even when he didn't deserve it.

"Oh, you're the one Theodore’s been in—" Susan began, but Theodore cut her off quickly.

"Y/N is my girlfriend," he said, the lie slipping out before he could stop it. "Would you excuse us? I promised her a dance."

Without waiting for Susan's response, he grabbed Y/N's hand and pulled her toward the dance floor, leaving a bewildered Susan behind.

"Girlfriend?" Y/N hissed as they began to move to the slow waltz. "Care to explain?"

Theodore spun her expertly, using the movement to avoid her penetrating gaze. "Susan has been... persistent since our encounter at the beginning of the year. I thought it might discourage her."

"Encounter?" Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Heat flooded Theodore's cheeks. His reputation as a serial heartbreaker was well-established by this point, but discussing it with Y/N always made him feel like the worst kind of cad.

"It was nothing," he muttered. "A mistake."

"They all are, aren't they?" Y/N asked softly, and there was something in her voice that made him look at her properly for the first time that evening.

She was beautiful—she'd always been beautiful—but tonight there was something different. Something almost sad in the way she was looking at him.

"Y/N—" he began, but she shook her head.

"It's fine, Theo. You don't owe me explanations about your personal life."

But the thing was, he wanted to explain. He wanted to tell her that every meaningless encounter, every one-night stand, every brief liaison was just another attempt to forget how he felt about her. He wanted to tell her that she was the only thing that mattered, the only light in the darkness that had consumed his life since his father's arrest that June.

Instead, he pulled her closer and tried to make a joke. "Well, if we're going to be fake dating, we might as well make it convincing. Want to scandalize the gossips and hook up in a broom closet?"

He'd meant it as a tease, a way to lighten the mood, but Y/N went rigid in his arms. For a moment, her carefully constructed mask slipped, and he saw something that looked like longing flash across her features before it was quickly replaced by hurt.

"I think I'll pass," she said, her voice artificially bright. "I quite like having you as my best friend, and I'd rather not become another casualty of your one-night-only rule."

The words hit him like a physical blow. His "one-night-only rule" had been born out of self-preservation—a way to ensure that no one got too close, that no one could hurt him the way his father's choices had hurt. But hearing Y/N reference it so casually made him realize how it must look from the outside.

"You could never be just one night," he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Y/N's step faltered, and for a moment, they stood frozen in the middle of the dance floor, staring at each other with an intensity that made the rest of the room fade away.

"Theo," she whispered, and he could hear a thousand questions in the way she said his name.

But he couldn't answer them. Couldn't tell her that he loved her so much it physically hurt, that he thought about her every moment of every day, that he'd built his entire reputation as a heartbreaker because he couldn't have the one heart that mattered.

Instead, he forced a smile and spun her again, letting the moment pass. "Come on," he said, his voice carefully light. "Let's give Slughorn something to really gossip about."

They danced for the rest of the evening, laughing and joking as if nothing had changed. But something had changed, even if they weren't ready to acknowledge it. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, they'd crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

And Theodore, for all his supposed sophistication and worldly experience, was terrified of what that might mean.

Φ

"Susan," Theodore said now, his voice carefully neutral as he returned to the present. "What a surprise."

"Isn't it?" Susan replied, though her attention had already shifted to Y/N. "And you... you look familiar. Didn't we go to school together?"

"Y/N Black," his best friend supplied politely. "We were in different houses, but yes, we attended Hogwarts at the same time."

Susan's eyes dropped to Y/N's left hand, where her diamond ring sparkled in the soft light of the tea shop. Theodore watched her expression shift from polite curiosity to something like triumph.

"Oh my goodness, you're engaged!" Susan exclaimed, her voice pitched just slightly too high. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You two were always so close at school."

Theodore felt Y/N tense beside him, and he made a split-second decision that he hoped wouldn't backfire spectacularly.

"Thank you," he said smoothly, allowing Susan to draw her own conclusions. "We're actually here for a bridesmaids' meeting, as it happens."

"How romantic!" Susan gushed, though there was something sharp in her eyes now. "I have to say, the ring is... charming. Quite understated. I would have expected something more... well, given both your family's reputation for extravagance..."

The insult was cleverly disguised as a compliment, but Theodore caught it immediately. He felt his protective instincts surge, and before he could think better of it, he wrapped his arm around Y/N's waist in a gesture that was both possessive and protective.

"We prefer classic elegance," he said, his voice cool enough to frost glass. "Ostentatious displays have always struck me as rather... nouveau riche."

Susan's smile faltered slightly at the subtle rebuke, but she recovered quickly. "Of course. Well, congratulations to you both. I should let you get back to your planning."

She disappeared back into the crowd of diners, leaving Theodore and Y/N standing at the bar in awkward silence.

"Well," Y/N said finally, "that was..."

"Awkward? Uncomfortable? Proof that some people never change?" Theodore suggested.

"I was going to say 'typical Susan,'" Y/N replied with a laugh. "For a Hufflepuff, she's always been remarkably petty."

Theodore felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. This was familiar territory—he and Y/N mocking their former classmates had been a favorite pastime during their school years.

"Remember when she hexed Longbottom's hair green because he asked Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball instead of her?" he asked.

"Or when she started that rumor about Pansy and the Whomping Willow," Y/N added, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Though to be fair, Pansy probably deserved that one."

They dissolved into laughter, the easy camaraderie that had sustained their friendship for so many years reasserting itself. For a moment, Theodore could almost forget about the complicated mess of his feelings, the impending wedding, and the disaster that awaited them back at the table.

But reality had a way of intruding, and the sound of raised voices from the dining area reminded him that they had more pressing concerns.

"We should probably go back," Y/N said reluctantly, glancing toward the table where their respective friends appeared to be locked in increasingly heated debate.

"Probably," Theodore agreed, but he made no move to leave. Instead, he turned to face her fully, his expression serious.

"Y/N," he said quietly, "about what Ginny said earlier. About your career and having children..."

She looked away, her fingers twisting around her engagement ring in a nervous gesture he'd seen countless times.

"It's complicated, Theo. Marriage requires compromise, and—"

"Bullshit," he interrupted, echoing his earlier sentiment. "Your healing work isn't some hobby you can set aside when it becomes inconvenient. You're on the verge of revolutionizing magical medicine. You've already saved countless lives with your innovative treatment methods, and your research on magical ailment prevention could change how we approach healthcare in the wizarding world."

Y/N stared at him in surprise. "You've been following my research?"

"Of course I have," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm your best friend. I follow everything you do."

Something shifted in her expression—a softening that made his chest tight with familiar longing.

"Theo..." she began, but he pressed on, needing to say this while he still had the courage.

"You don't have to choose between love and ambition," he said fiercely. "You don't have to diminish yourself to make someone else comfortable. Any man who truly loves you would want you to shine as brightly as possible, not dim your light to make his seem brighter by comparison."

The words hung between them, loaded with implications that neither of them was quite ready to examine. Theodore realized he was treading dangerously close to territory that would irrevocably change their relationship, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"You're stronger than they give you credit for," he continued, his voice softer now. "You can have everything—the career, the family, the love. You don't have to settle for less than you deserve."

Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, Theodore thought she might say something that would change everything between them. Instead, she reached out and squeezed his hand, her touch sending familiar electricity up his arm.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I needed to hear that."

Theodore squeezed back, allowing himself this small moment of connection before the real world intruded again. "Always," he said simply.

The sound of something crashing from the dining area made them both jump, and they turned to see Pansy standing over a shattered teacup while Ginny glared at her with murderous intent.

"Right then," Theodore said, his usual urbane composure reasserting itself. "Shall we go prevent Pansy from committing homicide on a pregnant woman? I'd hate for her to add 'baby killer' to her already impressive resume of antisocial behavior."

Y/N laughed despite herself, and Theodore felt a surge of satisfaction at being able to lighten her mood. It was a small victory, but he'd learned to treasure those moments when he could make her smile.

Together, they walked back toward the table, where their friends were locked in what appeared to be a heated debate about flower arrangements. Theodore caught Pansy's eye and saw her mouth the words "save me" with dramatic desperation.

As they approached the table, Theodore felt the familiar weight of pretense settling back over his shoulders. He would play his role—the devoted friend, the charming maid of honor, the man who was perfectly content to watch the woman he loved marry someone else.

But for just a moment, standing at that bar with Y/N's hand in his, he'd allowed himself to imagine what it might be like if things were different. If he were brave enough to tell her the truth. If she felt the same way. If they could build something real together instead of dancing around each other for the rest of their lives.

The fantasy was dangerous, he knew. It was the kind of hope that could destroy a man if he let it take root. But as Y/N released his hand and moved back toward her seat, Theodore couldn't quite bring himself to let it go.

After all, some dreams were worth holding onto, even if they never came true.

The afternoon stretched ahead of them, full of more arguments about centerpieces and seating arrangements, more passive-aggressive comments disguised as helpful suggestions, and more opportunities for Theodore to watch Y/N navigate the impossible task of pleasing everyone but herself.

But he would be there for all of it, just as he'd always been. Her constant, her anchor, her best friend.

Even if it was killing him slowly, one smile at a time.

[scriptedinkbyxim]

The Maid of Honor

Part 2: Meeting Charlie Weasley

The one where Theodore Nott meets his bestfriend's fianceé...and he seems to be perfect.

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Reader, Charlie Weasley x reader, Past! Cedric Diggory x reader.

Warnings: Slight Angst. Charachter dead mentioned.

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Three days after Y/N's announcement, Theo found himself standing outside a quaint tea shop in Diagon Alley, adjusting his robes for the third time and wondering what the hell he was doing. Y/N had sent him an owl that morning with an invitation to meet Charlie properly – apparently, her fiancé was in London for the week to meet her family and handle wedding preparations.

Come to Florean Fortescue's at two o'clock, I want my two favorite men to get to know each other properly. Charlie's excited to meet you!

Theo had stared at that letter for a full ten minutes, trying to figure out how to politely decline. The last thing he wanted was to sit across from the man who'd stolen Y/N's heart and pretend to be thrilled about it. But he'd already committed to being her man of honor, which meant he was going to have to play nice with Charlie Weasley whether he liked it or not.

The bell above the shop door chimed as Theo entered, and he immediately spotted Y/N at a corner table. She was laughing at something the red-haired man beside her had said, her face bright with happiness. Charlie Weasley was everything Theo had expected and worse – tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of easy confidence that came from a lifetime of being well-loved. His hands, Theo noticed with irrational annoyance, were scarred from dragon handling, which Y/N apparently found fascinating if the way she was tracing one of the marks with her finger was any indication.

"Theo!" Y/N spotted him and waved him over, her smile brilliant. "Come meet Charlie!"

Charlie stood as Theo approached, extending his hand with a genuine smile. "Theodore, right? Y/N's told me so much about you. I feel like I know you already."

"All good things, I hope," Theo replied, accepting the handshake. Charlie's grip was firm but not aggressive, and his smile reached his eyes. Damn it, Theo thought. It would have been so much easier if the man had been an arse.

"Are you kidding? You're practically legendary in her stories," Charlie laughed, gesturing for Theo to sit. "The way she tells it, you two have been joined at the hip since you were children. I'm half convinced you're secretly related."

"Sometimes it feels that way," Theo said, settling into his chair and trying not to notice how Y/N was beaming at both of them. "Y/N's always been more like a sister to me than anything else."

The lie rolled off his tongue with practiced ease, but he caught something flickering in Charlie's eyes – a brief moment of assessment, as if the older wizard was trying to read between the lines. But then Y/N was launching into the story of how she and Theo had met as children, and the moment passed.

"Aunt Narcissa and Uncle Lucius took me in when I was five after grandma Walburga passed away," Y/N was explaining, her hand resting casually on Charlie's arm. "My parents died in the first war, and grandmother... well, she wasn't equipped to raise a child on her own anyway. Theo and Draco were my first real friends."

"Must have been quite an adjustment," Charlie said softly, covering her hand with his. "Moving in with a new family, starting over."

"It was," Y/N agreed. "But Theo made it easier. He was always so patient with me, even when I was being dramatic about everything."

Φ

Eight years earlier - Hogwarts, Fourth Year

"I can't believe he's dead," Y/N whispered, her voice hollow as she stared out the window of the empty Potions classroom where Theo had found her. "Cedric's really gone."

The final task of the Triwizard Tournament had been three days ago, and word about Voldemort's return was spreading through the wizarding world, the war had already claimed its first casualty.

“I know," Theo said quietly, settling beside her on the windowsill. At fifteen, he was already tall and lean, his dark hair falling into his blue eyes as he watched her profile. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I know how much you cared about him."

"I loved him," she said simply, tears finally starting to fall. "I was going to tell him after the tournament. We were going to have the whole summer together, and I was going to tell him that I loved him."

Theo's chest tightened, but he pushed his own feelings aside. Y/N needed him to be her friend right now, not the boy who'd been secretly in love with her.

"He knew," Theo said, pulling her against his side when she started to shake. "Y/N, anyone with eyes could see how you felt about each other. Diggory was completely gone for you."

"Then why does it hurt so much?" she sobbed into his shoulder. "Why does it feel like I'm dying too?"

Theo held her tighter, his own eyes burning. "Because loving someone means giving them a piece of your soul. When they die, that piece dies with them. It's supposed to hurt."

"How do you know that?" Y/N pulled back to look at him, her eyes red and swollen.

Because I felt that when I lost you to him, Theo thought. But what he said was, "Because I lost my mother, remember? The pain... it gets smaller over time, but it never really goes away. You just learn to carry it differently."

Y/N nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Will you stay with me? Just for tonight? I don't want to be alone."

"Always," Theo promised, the word heavy with everything he couldn't say. "I'll always stay with you."

They spent that night in the Room of Requirement, which had provided them with a comfortable sofa and a warm fire. Y/N fell asleep curled against Theo's side, her breathing finally even and peaceful. Theo stayed awake all night, holding her while she slept, memorizing the weight of her against him and trying not to think about how perfectly she fit in his arms.

It was the first night of many that he would hold her while she grieved for another man.

Φ

"Theo was incredible during that time," Y/N was saying, bringing him back to the present. "I don't know how I would have gotten through losing Cedric without him."

Charlie's expression had grown serious. "That must have been hard for both of you. Losing someone so young, during such a dark time."

"It was," Theo agreed, his voice carefully neutral. "But Y/N's stronger than she gives herself credit for. She always has been."

"She is," Charlie said, his voice warm with affection as he looked at his fiancée. "Though I suspect having a friend like you made all the difference."

Before Theo could respond, the shop door chimed again, and Draco Malfoy walked in, followed by Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Theo felt some of his tension ease at the sight of his friends – at least he wouldn't have to navigate this awkwardness alone.

"There you are," Pansy said, sweeping over to their table in a cloud of expensive perfume. "Y/N, darling, you look positively radiant. This must be the famous Charlie."

Introductions were made, and soon their small table had been expanded to accommodate the group. Theo watched with growing unease as his friends interrogated Charlie with varying degrees of subtlety. Draco was coolly polite, his aristocratic mask firmly in place, but Theo could see the calculation in his grey eyes. Blaise was charming as always, but there was an edge to his questions about Charlie's work and intentions. And Pansy...

"So, Charlie," Pansy said, stirring her tea with deliberate casualness, "Y/N mentioned you'll be moving to Romania after the wedding. That's quite far from London."

"It is," Charlie agreed, seemingly unbothered by the obvious probe. "But it's only for three years initially, and we'll visit regularly. I know how important Y/N's friendships are to her."

"How thoughtful," Pansy replied, her smile sharp. "Of course, three years can feel like a lifetime when you're separated from the people you love."

Y/N shot Pansy a warning look, but Charlie just chuckled. "I imagine it will. But Y/N and I have already discussed it extensively. We're both committed to maintaining her connections here."

"And what about children?" Blaise asked, ignoring Y/N's mortified expression. "Romania seems like an unusual place to raise a family."

"Blaise!" Y/N hissed, but Charlie just squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"We want children eventually," he said easily. "And Romania has excellent magical schools. But that's all still in the future. Right now, we're just focused on the wedding."

Theo found himself grudgingly impressed by how Charlie handled the interrogation. The man didn't rise to any of the bait his friends were throwing out, answered questions directly without getting defensive, and managed to keep the conversation light despite the obvious tension.

It was infuriating.

"Speaking of the wedding," Y/N said, clearly eager to change the subject, "I wanted to run the wedding party arrangements by everyone. Theo's my man of honor, obviously, and Pansy, you're one of my bridesmaids."

"Obviously," Pansy agreed, her expression softening as she looked at Y/N. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Ginny Weasley will be another bridesmaid, along with Astoria, Millicent, and..." Y/N paused, her expression growing slightly uncomfortable, "Daphne Greengrass."

The temperature at the table seemed to drop several degrees. Theo kept his expression carefully neutral, but he could feel Pansy's sharp gaze on him.

"Daphne," Pansy said slowly. "How... interesting."

"It was Charlie's idea," Y/N said quickly. "Something about family harmony, since Astoria and Daphne are sisters, and with Astoria engaged to Draco..."

"It makes sense," Draco said diplomatically, though his eyes flicked to Theo with something that might have been sympathy. "We're all going to be family soon, in one way or another."

Charlie looked between them, clearly sensing undercurrents he didn't fully understand. "Is there going to be a problem? I know there's... history... between some of you."

"No problem," Theo said firmly, meeting Charlie's eyes. "Daphne and I are ancient history. I'm sure we can be civil for Y/N's sake."

"Good," Y/N said, relief evident in her voice. "I know it might be awkward, but I really want all my favorite people there with me."

Φ

Seven years earlier - Hogwarts, Fifth Year

"You're in love with her."

Theo looked up from his Transfiguration essay to find Daphne Greengrass standing beside his table in the library, her arms crossed and her blue eyes flashing with something between anger and hurt.

"I beg your pardon?" he said carefully, setting down his quill.

"Y/N," Daphne said, sliding into the chair across from him without invitation. "You're in love with Y/N Black, and you have been for years."

Theo's first instinct was to deny it, but something in Daphne's expression stopped him. They'd been dating for ten months, since the Yulle Ball, and she deserved better than lies.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I am."

Daphne's face crumpled for just a moment before she pulled herself together. "I knew it. I've known it since the day you asked me out. Do you know why I said yes anyway?"

Theo shook his head, guilt eating at him like acid.

"Because I thought maybe, if I was patient enough, if I was perfect enough, you might eventually see me the way you see her." Daphne's laugh was bitter. "Stupid, right?"

"Daphne-"

"No, let me finish." She held up a hand to stop him. "I've spent months watching you watch her. Months being your second choice.And the worst part is, she doesn't even know, does she? She has no idea that you'd drop everything if she so much as hinted that she wanted you."

Theo couldn't deny it, because it was true. If Y/N had asked him to leave Daphne, he would have. If she'd asked him to leave Hogwarts, he probably would have done that too.

"She's grieving Diggory," he said weakly.

"For now," Daphne replied. "But what happens when that ends? Will you go running to confess your love for her?"

Theo wanted to argue, but the words wouldn't come. Because deep down, he'd been harboring the same hope for months - that someday, Y/N would see him as more than just her best friend.

"I can't keep doing this," Daphne said, her voice breaking slightly. "I can't keep pretending that I don't see the way you look at her, or that it doesn't hurt every time you choose her over me. Because you do, Theo. Every single time”

"I never meant to hurt you," Theo said, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away.

"I know," Daphne said sadly. "That almost makes it worse. You're not cruel, Theo. You're just...unavailable. Your heart belongs to someone else, and there's no room for anyone else in it."

She stood up, gathering her things with shaking hands. "I hope she's worth it," she said. "I hope Y/N Black is worth all the hearts you're going to break waiting for her. What happens when she finally gets over her grief and decides she's ready to love someone again? We both know it won't be you she turns to."

"What do you mean?" Theo asked, though he was afraid he already knew.

Daphne's smile was sad and knowing.

"I mean that someday, she's going to fall for someone else. And you're going to have to stand there and watch, and pretend to be happy for her. I just hope you think it was worth it when that day comes."

She'd been right, of course. Daphne had always been too perceptive for her own good.

And now she was going to be Y/N's bridesmaid, watching Theo go through exactly what she'd predicted all those years ago.

Φ

The conversation moved on to other wedding details, and that's when Charlie dropped his bombshell.

"Actually, I had an idea about the venue," Charlie said, his voice casual but his eyes watching Y/N carefully. "What would you think about having the wedding at the Burrow?"

Y/N's teacup froze halfway to her lips. "The Burrow?"

"My family home," Charlie explained, his enthusiasm growing. "It's got this beautiful garden, and Mum's already talking about how we could set up everything. She's so excited about having a wedding there. Plus, it would save us a fortune on venue costs, and the money could go toward our new life in Romania instead."

Theo watched Y/N's face carefully, recognizing the subtle signs of her internal struggle. Her smile was bright, but there was something strained around her eyes. He'd seen that look before – it was the same expression she'd worn when Lucius had suggested she give up her dream of becoming a Healer and marry well instead.

"That sounds... lovely," Y/N said slowly. "But Charlie, are you sure your parents wouldn't mind? It's such a big event..."

"Are you kidding? Mum's already planning the menu, and I haven't even officially asked her yet," Charlie grinned. "She's so excited about the wedding, she'd probably throw a party just to celebrate you agreeing to marry me."

Φ

Ten years earlier - Malfoy Manor

"It's going to be perfect," Thirteen-year-old Y/N said dreamily, sprawling across Theo's bed with a copy of Witch Weekly open in front of her. "Look at this wedding – isn't it gorgeous?"

Theo glanced over from his desk where he was working on a Potions essay. The magazine showed a elaborate wedding in what looked like a grand ballroom, complete with crystal chandeliers, white roses, and a bride in an elaborate gown that probably cost more than most people's houses.

"It looks expensive," Theo said diplomatically.*

"It's elegant," Y/N corrected, tracing her finger over the image. "Sophisticated. Classic. This is how purebloods are supposed to get married – with style and grace and tradition."

"Says who?" Theo asked, genuinely curious.

"Everyone knows," Y/N said, rolling her eyes. "Aunt Cissy’s been telling me about proper society weddings since we went to the Avery’s heir wedding this summer. The venue has to be historic and beautiful, the flowers have to be exotic and expensive, the dress has to be a masterpiece. It's not just about the couple – it's about making a statement, about showing respect for the families being joined."

Theo set down his quill and looked at her properly. "Is that what you want? All that... spectacle?"

Y/N's expression grew wistful. "It’s not a spectacle.  I want my wedding to be beautiful. I want to feel like a princess for one day, you know? I want everything to be perfect and magical and..." She trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed. "I suppose that sounds silly."

"It doesn't sound silly," Theo said quietly. "You deserve to have the wedding of your dreams."

Y/N smiled at him, bright and trusting. "When I get married, will you help me plan it? I want everything to be perfect, and you always know how to make things perfect."

"Of course," Theo had promised, his chest tight with the hope of it all. "Whatever you want, Y/N. I'll make sure you get your perfect wedding."

He'd just never imagined he'd be helping her plan it for another man.

Φ

"The Burrow it is, then," Y/N said, her voice determinedly cheerful. "I'm sure it will be wonderful."

But Theo could see the way her fingers tightened around her teacup, the slight downturn of her mouth when she thought no one was looking. This wasn't what she'd dreamed of – he knew because he'd been there for every conversation about her future wedding, every magazine she'd pored over, every wistful comment about wanting something elegant and sophisticated.

The Burrow was many things – warm, welcoming, full of love and laughter. But it wasn't the grand, elegant affair Y/N had always envisioned.

"Actually," Charlie continued, seemingly oblivious to Y/N's internal struggle, "I thought we could make it a real family affair. Ron and Hermione got married there last year, and it was perfect – simple, meaningful, focused on what really matters. No pretentious nonsense, just love and family and good food."

Y/N's smile grew more strained. "That sounds perfect," she said, though Theo could hear the effort it took.

"I thought you'd love the idea," Charlie said, beaming. "I know how much you value authenticity over superficial things. It's one of the reasons I fell for you – you're not like those other pureblood girls who care more about appearances than substance."

At that Draco scoffed and murmured to Theo, “But she is a pureblood girl” 

The words hit their mark, and Theo watched Y/N's face carefully blank out any trace of disappointment. She'd been effectively told that wanting elegance made her shallow, that her dreams of a beautiful wedding were superficial nonsense.

"You're absolutely right," Y/N said quietly. "Love is what matters, not... all the other stuff."

Theo wanted to shake Charlie Weasley. The man clearly loved Y/N, but he was completely blind to what this meant to her. He was asking her to give up something she'd dreamed about since she was a child, and he didn't even realize it.

"That's settled, then," Charlie said happily. "I'll owl Mum tonight and let her know it's official. She's going to be over the moon."

"I'm sure she will be," Y/N agreed, but her voice sounded hollow.

The conversation moved on, but Theo found himself only half-listening. He was too busy watching Y/N's face, seeing the way she'd closed herself off, the way she was nodding along with wedding plans that were clearly not what she wanted.

This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

"Well," Pansy said eventually, clearly sensing the tension, "this has been absolutely delightful, but I have an appointment at Twilfitt and Tatting's. Y/N, darling, we simply must discuss your dress soon."

"Of course," Y/N said, looking grateful for the change of subject. "I was hoping you'd help me choose."

"Wild hippogriffs couldn't keep me away," Pansy declared. "Though I suppose we'll need to find something appropriately... rustic... for a garden wedding."

The slight emphasis on 'rustic' wasn't lost on anyone at the table. Charlie looked confused, but Y/N's cheeks flushed pink.

"I'm sure we'll find something perfect," Y/N said firmly.

Pansy kissed Y/N's cheek before sweeping out of the shop with her usual dramatic flair. Blaise and Draco made their excuses soon after, leaving Theo alone with the happy couple.

"Your friends are... protective," Charlie observed, watching the door where they'd disappeared.

"They care about Y/N," Theo said simply. "We’re all family."

"Good," Charlie said, surprising him. "She deserves people who look out for her."

Y/N was chattering excitedly about dress styles and flower arrangements, but Theo could see the forced nature of her enthusiasm. She was performing happiness, the same way she'd performed contentment during the worst days after Cedric's death.

"I should go," Theo said finally, standing abruptly. "I have some work to catch up on."

"Already?" Y/N looked disappointed. "But we haven't even talked about your speech yet."

"My speech?"

"For the wedding," she said, as if it should be obvious. "The man of honor always gives a speech, right?"

Theo felt like someone had cast a Stunning Spell on him. A speech. About how perfect Y/N and Charlie were together, about how happy he was for them, about what a wonderful couple they made.

"Right," he managed. "The speech. I'll... I'll work on that."

"Don't make it too embarrassing," Y/N warned with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Remember, Charlie's entire family will be there."

"I'll try to keep the childhood blackmail material to a minimum," Theo replied, forcing a smile.

Charlie stood to shake his hand again. "It was good to meet you properly, Nott. I can see why Y/N talks about you so much."

"Likewise," Theo said, though the word tasted like ash.

Y/N hugged him goodbye, and Theo tried not to think about how this might be one of the last times he'd hold her as a single woman. In six weeks, she'd be Mrs. Weasley, and everything would change.

"I love you, Theo," she whispered against his ear, the same words she'd been saying to him for years.

"Love you too," he whispered back, meaning it in a way she'd never understand.

He left them there, Y/N's forced laughter following him out into the busy street. As he walked toward the Apparition point, Theo tried to process everything he'd witnessed. Charlie wasn't a bad man – he genuinely loved Y/N and wanted to make her happy. But he was also completely blind to who she really was beneath the surface.

Y/N had been raised in pureblood society, had grown up with certain expectations and dreams. Wanting a beautiful wedding didn't make her shallow – it made her human. But Charlie seemed to see her desire for elegance as some kind of character flaw that needed to be corrected.

And Y/N, desperate to be loved and accepted, was willing to give up her dreams to make him happy.

Theo Apparated directly into his flat and immediately poured himself a large firewhiskey.The events of the afternoon played through his mind on repeat - Charlie's casual dismissal of Y/N's dreams, her forced agreement to everything he suggested, the way she'd closed herself off when she realized her vision of a perfect wedding was being labeled as superficial nonsense.

This was going to be worse than he'd thought. Not only was he going to have to watch Y/N marry someone else, he was going to have to watch her marry someone who didn't really see her. Someone who loved his idealized version of her but missed all the complicated, wonderful details that made her who she was.

And the worst part was, there was nothing he could do about it. Y/N had made her choice, and she was determined to be happy with it, even if it meant sacrificing parts of herself to fit into Charlie's vision of who she should be.

Theo's owl tapped at the window, delivering the evening post. Among the usual bills and advertisements was a cream-colored envelope with familiar handwriting. His heart sank as he recognized Daphne Greengrass's elegant script.

Theodore, I heard the wonderful news about Y/N's engagement. How exciting that we'll all be working together to plan her perfect day. I do hope you're prepared for the next six weeks they're going to be quite illuminating, I suspect. I look forward to our reunion. Regards, Daphne P.S. I trust you remember our last conversation about matters of the heart. Some things never change, do they?

Theo crumpled the letter and threw it across the room. As if this situation wasn't complicated enough, now he had to deal with Daphne's passive-aggressive commentary on his hopeless situation.

Six weeks. Six weeks of watching Y/N compromise her dreams, of smiling and pretending to be thrilled about her rustic garden wedding, of dealing with Daphne's knowing looks and Charlie's oblivious contentment.

Six weeks of pure hell.

Theo poured himself another drink and began planning how to survive the longest six weeks of his life.

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Lonely Heart

Theodore Nott x Reader

W.C. : 6654

Summary: After years of frienship you realize that although you might not be alone you’re lonely. You’re not part of the Golden Trio and they don’t seem to care when you drift away from them. You learn to be by yourself when certain Slytherin enters your life and change it for the better.

(I suck at summaries, I’m sorry)

A/N: This is the first time that I write from a more personal point of view. All this is for experinces that I had in the past and that really brought me down lately. This was a way  for me to kind of deal with it and it really makes me feel better. Maybe some of you can relate, some might not but still I hope you enjoy.

I didn’t proof read, Skittles. I’m lazy by nature. :)

*Not my GIF. Credits to the creator*

You always found comfort in the Great Hall. You didn’t know what was it about the place but it made your heart feel lighter and warmer. There was always laughter echoing the enormous room, filled with chatting and the occasional prank from the Weasley twins, that of course until they left Hogwarts. 

It was a kind of comfort that you couldn’t find in your common room or back at home. Unique to the dining space. 

Maybe it was because it was a place where the house rivalry wasn’t that notorious. Where friends from different houses gathered and existed in the same space without hissing and grunting at each other like they did in classes or Quidditch matches. Here they were just friends and the color in their robes didn’t matter that much. 

So the feeling that set heavily on your chest as your friends laughed at a joke was something new. Something you didn’t like at all. 

“You should have told him to hold on to his broom.” chuckled Ron, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice as Harry and Hermione burst out in a fit of laughter. 

You laughed slowly under your breath, smiling softly even if you didn’t get the joke.

Keep reading

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Here is my Theodore Nott fic library!

@amiableness

You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be

@bunny-1111

Blow Out Your Candles

@lavender-storm

Does She Feel The Same?

You Are Here Now

@moonpascal

In The Shadow Of Memory

@nottsangel

Honey and Lavender

@obsessedwithceleste

The Fortress Of Trust Issues

Fighting Fate

'Til It's Gone

All's Fair In Love And Quidditch

The Cat Chronicles

Lessons In Love

@raekensluver

Moonlit Confessions

@willowbleedsonpaper

Ron Was Right

Beside You

They Don't Know About Us

Lonely Heart

A Little Favor

[scriptedinkbyxim]

The Maid of Honor

Part One: The Announcement

The one where Theodore Nott has six weeks to get over his best friend and be the best Maid Men of Honor she could ever wish for. Or the one where Theodore Nott has six weeks to tell Y/N Black she is the love of his life before losing her forever.

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Reader, Charlie Weasley x reader, Past! Cedric Diggory x reader.

Warnings: Slight Angst. Pinning. Toddler Draco being a brat.

A/N: Hi! I'm back but this time with a Harry Potter post-War Fic. I love the movie The Maid of Honor and It inspired me to write this. English Is not my first lenguage so apologies in advance. Don't be a ghost reader. Hope you like It!

Next Chapter>>

Theodore Nott had always prided himself on being unflappable. It was a trait that had served him well during the war, through his father's imprisonment, and in the years that followed when he'd carefully rebuilt his life from the ashes of his family's disgrace. But as he sat in the elegantly appointed private dining room of the Leaky Cauldron, watching Y/N Black's face light up with a happiness he hadn't seen since before Cedric Diggory died, Theo felt his carefully constructed composure begin to crack.

"Charlie proposed three days ago and I've been dying to tell you!" Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she held up her left hand, where a modest but elegant diamond ring caught the candlelight. 

Theo forced his lips into what he hoped resembled a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Three days? And you're only telling me now?" He kept his voice light, teasing, the way it had always been between them. "I'm wounded, Y/N. Truly."

She laughed, that musical sound that had been the soundtrack to his life for as long as he could remember. "Oh, stop being dramatic. You know you're the first person I wanted to tell. Well, after I told Aunt Narcissa and Uncle Lucius, of course. And Draco. But you're definitely in the top five."

"Top five?" Theo clutched his chest in mock horror. "I've been demoted. What's next, am I going to find out about the wedding through the Daily Prophet?"

"Actually," Y/N's smile turned mischievous, "that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Theo, I want you to be my maid of honor."

The words hit him like a Bludger to the chest. Theo blinked, certain he'd misheard. "Your what now?"

"My maid of honor. Well, man of honor, technically, but you know what I mean." Y/N leaned forward, her expression suddenly earnest. "Theo, you're my best friend. You've been there for me through everything – the war, losing Cedric, those awful years when we were all just trying to survive. When I went to America to train as a Healer, you came with me without question. You're the person I trust most in this world, and I can't imagine getting married without you by my side."

Theo stared at her, his throat tight. She was asking him to stand beside her while she married another man. To smile and be supportive while she promised to love someone else for the rest of her life. The irony was almost poetic in its cruelty.

"Of course," he heard himself say, his voice steady despite the chaos in his chest. "I'd be honored."

The relief that washed over Y/N's face was immediate and profound. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Thank you. I was worried you might think it was weird, having a man as maid of honor, but—"

"Nothing about our friendship has ever been conventional," Theo interrupted, his thumb brushing over her knuckles before he forced himself to let go. "Besides, someone needs to make sure those Weasley women don't corrupt you with their wholesome family values."

Y/N snorted with laughter. "Ginny and Fleur are going to be some of my bridesmaids, you know. Along with Pansy, Astoria, and..." she paused, her expression growing slightly uncomfortable, "Daphne."

Theo raised an eyebrow. "Daphne Greengrass? Your future sister-in-law's sister, who also happens to be my ex-girlfriend who absolutely despises me?"

"The very one." Y/N grimaced. "Tori suggested it. Something about family harmony and fresh starts. I think she's hoping that having her in the wedding party will help smooth things over between our families before she marries Draco."

"Well, this should be interesting," Theo murmured, taking a long sip of his firewhiskey. "When's the happy day?"

"Six weeks."

Theo choked on his drink. "Six weeks? Y/N, that's—"

"I know it's fast," she said quickly, her cheeks flushing pink. "But Charlie got offered a promotion. Now he's going to lead the dragon sanctuary in Romania, and he wants us to be married before we move. It's a wonderful opportunity, and the timing just worked out perfectly."

Six weeks. Theo felt something cold settle in his stomach like a lead weight. Six weeks to watch the woman he'd been in love with for over a decade marry someone else. Six weeks to plan a wedding that would take her away from him permanently. Six weeks to figure out how to smile and be happy for her when his heart was breaking.

"Romania," he repeated, his voice carefully neutral. "That's... quite far."

Something in his tone must have given him away because Y/N's expression softened. "Oh, Theo. I know it's a big change, but it's not forever. Charlie says the position is for three years initially, and we'll visit all the time. London will always be home."

Three years. Three years of letters and occasional visits instead of daily conversations and impromptu dinners. Three years of being an ocean away while she built a life with someone else.

"I'm happy for you," Theo said, and he almost managed to sound like he meant it. "Charlie's a good man. He'll take care of you."

"He will," Y/N agreed, her smile returning. "Theo, I know this must seem sudden, but I love him. I really, truly love him. For the first time in years I feel... whole again."

The knife in Theo's chest twisted a little deeper. He remembered the girl who had cried in his arms for months after the war ended, who had blamed herself for surviving when others didn't. He remembered holding her through nightmares and panic attacks when they lived together in New York, watching her slowly piece herself back together with a strength that had awed him. He'd been so proud of her progress, so grateful to see her healing.

He just hadn't expected her healing to take her away from him.

"Tell me about him," Theo said, because that's what a good friend would do. "How did you meet?"

Y/N's face lit up again, and Theo settled in to listen to the story of how the woman he loved had fallen for someone else.

Φ

Ten months earlier

Y/N had been sitting alone at a corner table in the Leaky Cauldron, checking her watch for the third time in five minutes. Theo was over an hour late, which wasn't entirely unusual – his tendency to lose track of time when he was with a woman was a running joke among their friend group – but tonight felt different. Tonight, she'd had something important to tell him.

She'd been offered a position at St. Mungo's, completing her Healer training. It meant staying in London permanently, putting down roots again after four years of feeling adrift. It meant building a real life instead of just existing day to day. She'd wanted Theo to be the first to know.

But as the minutes ticked by and her dinner grew cold, Y/N felt the familiar sting of disappointment. This was the third time this month that Theo had stood her up for one of his conquests. She understood, in theory – after everything they'd been through during the war, they all deserved to find comfort where they could. But it still hurt to feel like she was coming in second to whatever witch had caught his eye that week.

She was just about to give up and go home when a voice behind her said, "Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you could use some company."

Y/N turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with kind blue eyes and weathered hands standing beside her table. His red hair was long and tied back in a practical ponytail, and he had a small scar running along his jawline that spoke of dangerous work.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, then sighed. "Actually, no. I'm not fine. I'm stood up, apparently."

The man's expression grew sympathetic. "Mind if I sit? I'm Charlie, by the way. Charlie Weasley."

“Y/N Black," she replied, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. "And yes, before you ask, those Blacks. Though I prefer to think of myself as the reformed branch of the family tree."

Charlie's grin was warm and genuine. "I don't judge people by their family names. Trust me, being a Weasley comes with its own set of assumptions."

They'd talked for hours that night. Charlie told her about his work with dragons in Romania, about the challenges of conservation and the thrill of working with such magnificent creatures. Y/N found herself sharing stories about her time in New York, about the differences between American and British magical medicine, about her hopes for her career at St. Mungo's.

It wasn't until much later that she realized she hadn't thought about Theo once during their entire conversation.

Φ

"And that was it," Y/N finished, her eyes soft with memory. "We've been writing to each other ever since. He comes to London whenever he can get leave, and I visited him in Romania twice. He's... he's everything I didn't know I was looking for, Theo."

Theo nodded, his chest tight. "He sounds perfect for you."

"He is." Y/N's smile was radiant. "I know it probably seems fast to everyone else, but when you know, you know. Right?"

"Right," Theo echoed, though the word tasted like ash in his mouth.

They talked for another hour about wedding plans and guest lists, about Y/N's excitement for her new life and her nerves about meeting more of Charlie's family. Theo played his part perfectly – the supportive best friend, excited for her happiness, ready to help with whatever she needed. It was a performance he'd been perfecting for years, and by now it came as naturally as breathing.

It was only after Y/N had kissed his cheek goodbye and disapparated home to Grimmauld Place that Theo allowed his mask to slip. He sat alone in the empty dining room, staring at the chair where she'd been sitting, and finally let himself feel the full weight of what he'd lost.

He'd been in love with Y/N Black since they were fifteen years old. He'd loved her through her relationship with Cedric, had held his tongue because he'd seen how happy Diggory made her. He'd loved her through her grief after Cedric's death, had been there to pick up the pieces without expecting anything in return. He'd loved her through the war, through the years of healing and rebuilding, through their time in New York and their return to London.

He'd told himself there would be time. That someday, when she was ready, when the wounds had healed and the timing was right, he would find the courage to tell her how he felt. He'd convinced himself that their friendship was so strong, their connection so deep, that she must feel something too.

But now she was getting married in six weeks, and he was going to have to stand beside her and watch her promise herself to someone else.

Theo signaled for another firewhiskey and tried to figure out how he was going to survive the next six weeks without falling apart completely.

Φ

Fifteen years earlier - Malfoy Manor

"Look what I found!"

Eight-year-old Y/N came running across the manor's back garden, her dark hair flying behind her like a banner. In her cupped hands, she carried something small and fragile – a baby bird that had fallen from its nest.

"Is it hurt?" nine-year-old Theodore asked, abandoning the Quidditch magazines he'd been reading with Draco to examine her find. Even then, he'd never been able to ignore Y/N when she needed something.

"I think its wing is broken," Y/N said, her dark eyes wide with concern. 

“Then let him die in peace,” Draco said with indifference..

“Don’t say that!,” Y/N eyes started to water and that was the momet when Theo learned he couldn't bear the sight of her sad eyes. "We have to help it. We can't just leave it to die."

Theo looked at the tiny creature in her hands, then at her face, and felt something shift in his chest. Y/N had always been like this – drawn to wounded things, determined to fix what was broken. It was one of the things that made her special, even if it sometimes worried him.

"Alright," he said, already mentally cataloging what they would need. "Let's take it inside. I think mother might  know a spell that can help."

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Y/N's room, carefully tending to the bird. Y/N held it while Theo’s mom performed a simple healing charm he'd overheard her use on their owl. When the tiny creature's wing was mended, they made it a nest in a box and took turns feeding it drops of water.

"Do you think it will be okay?" Y/N asked that evening, curled up beside Theo on his bedroom floor, both of them watching the bird sleep.

"It will be," Theo said with the confidence of a nine-year-old who thought he could fix anything if he just tried hard enough. "We'll take care of it until it's strong enough to fly away."

Y/N smiled at him, bright and trusting, and Theo felt that strange flutter in his chest again. "You always know what to do, Theo. That's why you're my best friend."

"Always," Theo promised, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

“NO! YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND!” Draco protested with his usual petulence. “MOTHER TELL Y/N SHE CAN'T STEAL HIM!”

"I'll be both of your best friends," He tried to desscalate Draco's tantrum and felt his heart flutter when Y/N gave him her brightest smile.

Two months later, they released the bird back into the garden, watching it soar away on strong, healed wings. Y/N had cried a little, sad to see it go but happy that it was free. Even Draco shreded a few tears. Theo had put his arm around their shoulders and promised they'd done the right thing.

He'd never told her that watching things fly away was sometimes the hardest part of loving them.

Φ

Theo's flat was dark when he finally apparated home, the silence pressing against him like a physical weight. He poured himself another drink and stood at his living room window, looking out at the London skyline, remembering.

There had been so many moments over the years when he'd almost told her. Moments when the words had been right there on his tongue, when the way she looked at him made him think maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way.

The night during their seventh year at Hogwarts, when they'd sat in the Astronomy Tower talking about the future and she'd said she couldn't imagine her life without him in it. The morning after the Battle of Hogwarts, when she'd found him in the infirmary and cried with relief that he'd survived. The day she graduated from her Healer program in New York, when she'd hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe and whispered that she couldn't have done it without him.

But there had always been something holding him back. The war, his father's crimes, his own reputation as someone who couldn't be trusted with anything important. Y/N deserved better than the son of a Death Eater, better than someone whose family name was synonymous with betrayal and cruelty.

And now it was too late.

Theo closed his eyes and tried to imagine the next six weeks. The dress fittings and cake tastings, the bachelor and bachelorette parties, the rehearsal dinner where he'd have to give a speech about how perfect Y/N and Charlie were together. The wedding itself, where he'd stand beside her in front of all their friends and family and watch her become Mrs. Weasley.

And after that... after that, she'd be gone. Off to Romania to start her new life, and he'd be left behind with nothing but memories and the crushing weight of everything he'd never said.

His owl arrived with a letter from Y/N.

Thank you for dinner tonight. And thank you for saying yes to being my man of honor. I love you, Theo. You're the best friend a girl could ask for.

Theo stared at the parchment for a long time, his thumb hovering over her neat handwriting. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many words he'd kept locked inside for years. But in the end, he wrote back what he always did:

Love you too. Always here for you.

He hit send and poured himself another drink, wondering how many more times he'd have to say those words while meaning something entirely different.

Outside his window, London sparkled in the darkness, beautiful and distant and cold. Somewhere out there, Y/N was probably writing to their other friends to share her happy news, planning the wedding that would take her away from him forever.

And Theo was already planning how to survive it.

[scriptedinkbyxim]

A Theo Nott Fic

I haven´t come up with a title :(

Summary: Not a summary but this fic will include Severus Snape as the reader´s guardian and the dynamic of the Slytherins (Theo Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Balise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy) during their sixth year and their perspective of the upcoming magical war.

Word Count: 4747

Warnings: Brief descriptions of birth. One reference to suicidal ideation.

June, 1980.

Narcissa Malfoy always knew she would have a son. She had to, she had no other choice in the matter from the moment she married into the Malfoy name and legacy. There was no doubt in her mind that the child she would give birth to would be born a boy and would grow into a man to carry the name of her husband. 

Just like her. Born with great purpose, to give birth to a beautiful boy that would make everyone proud, and Narcissa herself the happiest. She had been born to be a loving mother. 

And she had not been mistaken as all her hopes and dreams of a family had come to life with a final push with all the might and strength she could muster, a relieved gasp fleeing from her lips as she finally fell back to the pillows on her back with quicken breath, a glowing smile illuminating her face as the midwife looked over her shoulder at her while the rest of the women gathered around the baby with wet clothes and blankets, muttering to themselves with glee and joy in the late hours of the night, it was almost midnight. 

Not even a minute born and her baby already had the people surrounding them to their feet. Despite the exhaustion, she rolled her eyes still with a glowing smile. 

“Well?” The voice of Lucius Malfoy came from the doorway, his tall frame appearing as a shadow at the entry of the room where he remained expectant. The entire room fell silent immediately.

The midwife stood two simple steps away from the bed, the small bundle of blankets on her arms almost at arm length from Narcissa to almost take on her own.

“Narcissa.” Lucius called from the door, demanding. Still his eyes were somewhere else.

Narcissa’s features turned sharp, panic flashing in her eyes as she met the look of the midwife, the house elf currently patting her forehead with a wet cloth cowering back in fear. A moment of terror that, to this day, only had one witness as the midwife smiled reassuringly, covering the shaky breath Narcissa let out with her body as she turned to the door.

“You have a son, Mr. Malfoy.” the midwife announced firmly, standing tall. 

Hushed cheers broke all over the room. The growing joy crushed as he stepped into the room. 

“Let me see him.” he demanded, taking long careful steps to the midwife holding his son. He reached his hand at the baby, lowering the soft blanket that covered his round face. “Good.” he approved after a meticulous scan of him, the soft glimmer of pride in his eyes lingering for a second longer. “Follow me.” he said, motioning for the midwife as he exited the room.

“Lucius.” Narcissa called while reaching her hand in the air, failing to keep him in the room as he walked out, his steps echoing in the hallway of their home. She did not hear his voice nor did she hear him share the news. She did not hear him for the rest of the night but she still knew what news was spreading like wildfire from the privacy of their home for the entire wizarding community to know. 

The Malfoys had an heir. 

“Let me have him.” Narcissa pleaded, sitting up in the bed as the midwife walked back into the room minutes later, eager to finally have her child  in her arms. She had done it, at last she could hold her baby close to her heart, holding him as tight as she could without bringing him any harm. 

She would not know then, but later in time, when looking back on this moment in her life, she would realise that this was the moment she knew love for the first time. True unconditional love. It felt unreal as she looked down at him, caressing his cheek with her knuckle that she swore she saw him smile, and her heart burst with glee. She would do anything for the boy in her arms and he had not been on this earth for longer than ten minutes.

“I love you, my darling boy.” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, whispering the words so close to him she hoped they would be engraved in his mind from that moment and forever on. “Know that your mother loves you.” 

*******

August, 1981. 

The sky painted the world in a sombre light, dooming the day for those loyal to the Dark Lord’s cause. It had been a most joyful day until the first drops of rain had started to fall, forcing Narcissa and Draco indoors from their day outside in their garden. 

“I had an entire day planned for us,” Narcissa shared, her voice soft and tuned with a melodic sadness, “The entire afternoon, just the two of us. You could have seen the flowers that had just bloomed when you arrived into our lives a little over a year ago.” 

Draco squirmed in her arms, sensing her mother’s change in mood, his features beginning to contort into one of discomfort. Narcissa chuckled, rearranging him in her arms with a shush, “I know,” she continued, walking the long halls of her home with little to no rush, “The cold weather might not let you see the lilies again this year, they’ll die soon enough.”

Then the owls had started to arrive, closely followed by cloaked figures and orders to take action immediately. 

The drawing room of Malfoy Manor ringed with gleeful babbling from their heir playing with a number of toys over a blanket close to the fire, accompanied by his mother who began humming soft tunes from her own childhood when the clash of wooden figures and cracking fire was not enough to drown the noise from the hallway. 

Narcissa stared at the door obsessively, mindlessly taking the toys Draco would pass to her, until the door burst open and her husband walked inside. She managed a glimpse of three cloaked figures rushing through the hallway before Lucius closed the door behind him. They had been dragging two others down her halls. 

“Stay here, Narcissa.” Lucius Malfoy ordered, kneeling beside her on the floor. 

His hand caressed the side of his wife’s head, placing a chaste kiss on her temple as he spared one last look at the baby beside her. 

“What has happened?” Narcissa asked, her eyes following Lucius as he stood, her heart hammering in her chest. Lucius kept going, never faltering, not once stopping. She wanted to go with him. “Lucius.” she insisted, readying herself to stand.

“Not now, Narcissa.” he answered, hissing her name. 

Narcissa never stood, staring harshly at him when he turned his eyes to look at her. 

Lucius sighed, looking away from her, his entire frame tense. “Stay here.” he said, softer than any of them expected, “Stay with Draco.” 

He didn’t have to tell her, of course. He knew that. 

The loud commands of Bellatrix just outside the room drew Lucius´ attention and he walked out without another word, without awaiting a response. It wasn’t enough to make Narcissa lift an eye in their direction, not to see Lucius go and not to wish Bella any luck. She didn’t need it with Lucius by her side, and nowadays it seemed he spent more time with Bella than he did with her and Draco. 

Draco.

Narcissa believed that if it wasn’t for Draco she would be miserable or on the border of taking her own life. Her baby offered not only a distraction but a way out of her duties as loyal follower of the Dark Lord. In some sense, she was fulfilling her duty, bringing a new generation of pureblood to the world. She was crafting a puzzle piece for the vision Lord Voldemort had for their future, shaping him for their perfect life. Still, she could not be bothered with matters of the war. She had lost too much to it and with Draco in her arms, now she had won something and she would protect him, no matter what. 

The rain fell like rich heavy curtains over the windows of her home, nothing visible through them but the cascades of rain water that had begun to fall the moment her sister and husband stepped out into the world.  

Narcissa wanted to think of them, to be concerned and wish them some sort of luck. After all, they were out on the Dark Lord commands. If the sky were to be taken into deep thought, she was certain something awful had just come to happen. 

Light flashed over the room, pulling her out of her head to snap her eyes in the same velocity at the tall windows, thunder rumbling over the sky with extreme force. She stood from the floor, slowly walking closer to the windows until her own reflection came into view, a sight of concern looking back at her as she waited in place for more thunder.

The light flashed as fast as the thunder came, making her jump back in surprise with the windows shaking in consequence of the thunderstorm raging outside. Narcissa rushed back to where Draco sat, looking up at her with a quivering pout and watery eyes. She lifted him up in her arms, clutching Draco closer to her chest, the boy starting to squirm on her hold as soft whimpers left him, sensing the same discomfort his mother was in.  

Narcissa took one last hesitant look out the window before she turned towards the door. She began to walk out of the room when the sudden flash of green light illuminating the room made her steps falter briefly. The light came once more, and her stomach dropped with the memories that brought back, understanding settling in. 

She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath as she looked down to her son, “Time for you to sleep, my darling.” she whispered, cautiously brushing her lips over his forehead in a soft kiss. 

There was a time where the flash of light would have come from her wand, now she could not be bothered.

Her heels clicked on the marble floors of the stairs of Malfoy Manor, the tall ceilings echoing her every step over the black walls as she reached the door to the nursery, closing it behind her as soon as she stepped in. She rested her back against the door, losing her perfect posture for a brief second as a sigh escaped from deep within her chest. Breathing back in, she regained her height with ease as she looked down, her eyes meeting with big grey ones already staring at her. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” she said with soft humour, starting to rock him rhythmically on her arms. 

Draco made a sound in response, his gaze on Narcissa never wavering. 

Narcissa smiled at him, humming a lullaby as she paced the vast room. She went like that for what her arms felt was hours, refusing to sit down as the green light still flashed every time she closed her eyes, not ready to let go of the comfort Draco offered for the night. 

“Have it your way.” she said as the tune she hummed came to an end, “We can stay here all night and until the sun starts to rise.” 

This seemed to amuse Draco who in his very young age looked to be giving her a challenging smile.  

Narcissa tilted her head with her own smile while tickling his chest, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked, earning a response that had drool rolling from the corner of his mouth. Her smile widened, reaching for a small cloth to wipe his cheek. “Yes, yes. Draco Malfoy, stealing his mother’s youth by keeping her up countless nights.”

“Better me than your father.” She scoffed with a bittersweet feeling to it, fisting the cloth in her hand as her knuckles brushed Dracos’ cheek in a repetitive motion while barely paying any mind to his chuckles, Narcissa far too lost in her own mind. 

She snapped out of it when Draco took hold of her finger and squeezed it, the sight of bursting out Narcissa’s bubble and watching her return to the present bringing a wrinkly smile to Draco’s face, followed by incoherent babble.

“Lucius would curse the entire world before he let you steal his youth.” she joked, watching as the smile vanished from her son’s face. 

“So better go to sleep.” she said, finally giving in and sitting in the rocking chair by the corner. “Merlin knows I could use some sleep.” she murmured. 

For another couple of hours Draco refused to fall asleep, going over the entire collection of lullabies Narcissa knew, even having to resort to some songs she could recall from her own childhood. It was until the room had grown silent she dared take a look, finding no grey eyes were looking up at her anymore. 

Carefully, she placed him on his crib and considered staying there for the night. The rocking chair, as uncomfortable as it was, looked far more tempting than going to an empty bed or the chaos that had unravelled downstairs hours ago. She had heard the burst of people through the main entrance hours ago, more footsteps than those that had left entering her home. She had no energy to face strange faces with a smile. 

Narcissa had stared at the pouring rain out the window for more than necessary, trying to make out the voices and what they were saying,  trying to get as much information as she could without being in the eye of the huracan. She did not want to go downstairs and face the storm. 

She went anyway. 

Descending the stairs gracefully. Slowly. Cautiously. The doors to the drawing room were open, the dancing shadows of the fire making it to the hallway where she could step on them, feel the touch of their warmth. 

However, it was the sudden cries that pulled her to the room, rushing inside without even looking at those present. 

She had left Draco in the nursery. 

“Narcissa.” 

She heard her name being called, eyes scanning the room quickly until her senses connected and she was brought back to the present. The room was the same as she had left it, Draco´s blanket and toys still sprawled on the floor, the fire still burning with added wood someone else must have fed the fire after she left, the rain still falling. Still the room felt void of any life, Draco´s toys didn’t bring joy, the fire didn’t bring warmth and the rain didn’t bring peace. A cold void stood in the middle of the room, the source of the voice with calm eyes staring at her. 

“My lord.” She was quickly to greet him, bowing her head enough for him to see. 

“How considerate of you to join us.” 

She feared to look at him, sensing the darkness of his voice and the daggers behind his words. Still, she lifted her eyes to find him looking down at her. 

The shadow of Bella’s bitter look, as always, was over his shoulder, moving back to look at her. She dared not ask, her eyes not wavering from the Dark Lord and her sister behind him, when a wave of panic crashed over her. 

“Where’s..”

She did not get to finish her question when Lucius stepped into the room, her name leaving his lips in a whisper as he stopped. “Finally.” he mumbled in annoyance.

Narcissa had but a second to fold her arms in a familiar manner to her and hold what Lucius was handing her. She stumbled back in surprise, looking down and between her husband. “Who’s this?” she asked with a frown. 

Lucius had entered the room, a glass soon in his hand as he downed the contents in one gulp. 

Narcissa looked down at the baby in her arms, knowing full well it was not her Draco. The weight of the baby she held was not one she knew, not the shape her arms had been moulded to in the last year. Their warmth was unknown to her, their features, their clothes, their blankets. She did not know the baby in her arms.

“Lucius?” She turned to the one who would give her answers with well hidden despair, only to find he was not looking at her but down at the floor, his arms barely keeping him up as he grasped the back of the sofa with white knuckles.. 

“An expected response after the events of tonight.” said the Dark Lord.

“My lord?” Narcissa said while meeting his piercing gaze already on her.

“Frederick and Victoria Blackthorne were murdered.” he lamented, no one sure if he was being genuine, “Most trusted allies and loyal to our cause.” he paused, moving close until he was towering over Narcissa “The baby you hold is their child. A gesture of mercy from our enemies, to allow this new soul to live.”

Bella scoffed in the background, “They’ll pay for what they’ve done.”  

“All in due time, Bella.” The Dark Lord tutted, “We will all get what we deserve, in time.”

Narcissa looked down, fearing to ask, dreading to know the fate of the child. 

“We still have work to do.” the Dark Lord announced, making his way to the exit, “Bella, come with me.” 

Gleeful sounds left the older woman as she followed dutifully, racing out of the room while ignoring the questioning look on Narcissa.

“See that she’s cared after, Lucius.” the Dark Lord said from the door,  never looking at the man he spoke to, his eyes only on the child. “She is your responsibility until Severus returns.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Lucius said, holding back the venom in his voice. 

The sound of the main door closing marked the Dark Lord leaving Malfoy Manor and with that returning some of the air to the room. 

Narcissa no longer felt like she could not breathe, her shoulders falling from their locked state as she sighed, making sure the baby was wrapped tightly even if she could feel the sweat running down her own back.

The fire of the fireplace roared with the sound of breaking glass, making Narcissa jump in her spot as she turned the baby away from harm, turning with a glare at Lucius. 

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice now loud. 

Lucius walked past her, glaring down at her arms as he stormed out of the room. 

“How mature, Lucius!” she yelled, rushing to the hallway after him for the long space to carry her voice, “Take it out on the baby!” 

She huffed when she was met with the slam of a door. She marched up the stairs, kicking her heels from her feet halfway to the nursery while letting the cold floor cool her explosive mood. 

She didn’t mean to kick the door shut when she got there, what was even the point?  The nursery was at the far end of the hallway and in the exact opposite direction from her and Lucius’ room. If he even was there. 

She paced the room, letting her own anger and helplessness slip through her every step. The crying began before she even realised, with notorious pout and silent  tears of the baby that escalated quickly to the point where she was screaming, puffy red face refusing to meet her, kicking and punching the air furiously. 

The voice of salvation came in the form of a domestic elf. 

“Mistress?” the voice called as the tall door opened and he walked in hesitantly, “Is Mistress in need of anything?” he asked with his head bowed. 

She struggled with the words, formless phrases leaving her lips as she stared down at the crying baby in her lap. From the corner of her eye she could begin to see Draco moving. 

“Blankets!” she burst out saying. A quick scan to the baby put her in a motherly state of mind. The baby had been out in the rain in the care of death eaters who had collectively held a baby for a total of one hour. Has she been fed? Did she need a change of diaper? Clearly she needed a change of clothes and fresh blankets. From the periphery of her eyes she could see the elf enter the room, rubbing his small hands in confusion.  

“More blankets?” Dobby asked, looking at the pile already adorning the sofa and some more hanging from the crib. 

“Take them to the drawing room. Lay them down close to the fire.” she ordered.

He nodded quickly, moving without another word as he and the blankets vanished from the room. 

She left the nursery and let the cracking fire lead her back to the warmth, Dobby working fast on the blankets as they made the perfect spot. She left the crying baby with Dobby, rushing to get Draco from the nursery. 

There was no sound to lead her back to the drawing room, no light but only the warmth seeping into the hallway, the only trail she had left to follow as she took herself  and Draco back to the baby. 

“Dobby?” she called from the door, stepping inside as she feared the sight she might find. To her surprise, she found the baby on her back, reaching her hand in the air while Dobby stood at a safe distance by the wall, a show of glinting lights filling the room. 

It seemed as if the night sky had found its way inside her home. She quickly realised she did not want to welcome the stars in her home. 

“What are you doing?” she asked suddenly. 

Dobby’s hand dropped instantly, the light of the room going instantly away with him. 

“Dobby only meant to calm the crying child, Mistress.” he rushed to say, motioning his hand as the chandeliers were lit once again, the stars now gone. 

Narcissa said nothing else, giving one last look at Dobby as she lowered herself into the blankets. She had no words to say as she stared at the baby trying to roll over her back and to her stomach but failing, two rolled blankets at each of her sides preventing her from doing so. Dobby had succeeded in calming her down. 

“What is her name?” she asked, watching her struggle to sit up, her arms reaching up in all possible directions. 

“Dobby does not know.” 

She hummed in response, lowering Draco to lay on the blankets, as the girl managed to finally sit and fought with her own limbs for a minute to keep her balance. Then, she started to crawl towards Narcissa.  

Narcissa reached her hand towards her. “You aim for the stars, don’t you?” she asked as the girl’s eyes drifted to Draco. 

“You do.” Narcissa laughed, but then the girl paid no mind to Draco, and set herself to go towards Narcissa, climbing to her arms. She babbled, speaking the same language Draco did, as her tiny hand reached for the necklace around her neck, fisting the diamond with little force. 

She earned a chuckle from Narcissa. “You like shiny things, I respect that. Better focus on jewels, darling.” she said, her voice lowering to a murmur, “Better jewels than stars.” 

*******

“Her name is Y/N.” Bella kindly informed Narcissa the morning of the burial of Frederick and Victoria.

Narcissa had never met them. Frederick and Victoria Blackthorne. She had never heard of them, never heard their name, never knew where they came from. It seemed they had been important in the fight of their cause, for the Dark Lord himself to make an act of presence in their burial. 

He gave his speech, lamenting the loss of what he called his most trusted followers and supporters, swearing that those responsible would face the consequences. 

There was no mention of their daughter, no promise to her. Narcissa assumed it for the better. 

“Did you know them?” Narcissa asked in her sister’s ear.  

The air around Bella turned sour. “I did.” 

She did not elaborate further from that. 

“Where is Severus?” Lucius hissed as he fell into place next to the sisters. “We’ve waited long enough.” 

“Are you in any rush or getting rid of the Blackthorne girl, Lucius?” Bella asked with a glint in her eyes, “She’s only a baby, after all.”

Lucius turned his eyes from her, not a word uttered. 

“Yes, my love.” Narcissa inquired, “You cannot be this annoyed by two babies in our home. What when we have more children?” 

“She is not ours.” Lucius stated, clearly. “Now, where is Severus?” 

“Relax,” Bella taunted, running her eyes over his face before she looked over his shoulder. “He’s here.” 

The three of them turned in time to see Severus enter the room just as the Dark Lord left, both parting in opposite directions.

“Lucius. Narcissa.” Severus greeted, voice dead. “Bella.”

“Where have you been?” Lucius demanded harshly.

“That is not of your concern.” he answered, looking directly at Lucius. 

Narcissa had to give it to Severus, he was not easily intimidated. She remembered him from their time at Hogwarts, as brief as it had been. He had grown from a boy clearly talented and resourceful, to one of the most important assets, as his position with the Dark Lord showed. 

“Where is the girl?” Severus asked when Lucius said nothing else. 

“So it is true.” Bella stated, straightening her posture from the wall, “You’ll take her with you.”

Severus met her eyes briefly, “I am her guardian.” 

Bella met his answers with a look of disbelief, running her eyes all over Severus´ frame. She then shrugged her shoulders, “If you say so.”

“I didn’t, the Dark Lord himself commanded it.” 

Narcissa glanced at Bella before stepping to Severus, “She’s back at the Manor.” She told him, looking for any show of emotion towards the baby. He showed none. 

Severus nodded, following Narcissa as she made her way to the exit, walking towards the garden in front of what once was the home of the Blackthorne family. They apparated back to the Malfoy Manor, entering the great home with not much as a word said. 

“Wait here.” she said at the base of the stairs, “I’ll get her ready for you.”

She did not wait for an answer, following the stairs and getting to the nursery as slowly as she could. A week had Y/N been with them and it had been enough time for Narcissa to find a heavy feeling in her heart as she neared her newly built crib, overflowing with lilac blankets. She was not ready to see her go. 

Y/N

After a week of referring to her as The baby, her name felt almost like a revelation, something she did not dare to speak out loud just yet. 

“Leave us.” She said to the elves looking after Draco and Y/N. They went all at once and Narcissa moved to pick her up in her arms, Y/N shifting to fit perfectly in Narcissa’s arms. She went to sit in the rocking chair, her gaze fixed on the smaller girl. 

“Severus looking after you, a child.” she laughed softly, “I’ve seen my fair share of nonsense and this might be the greatest one yet.” 

There was a delicacy about Y/N that Narcissa longed for. She had grown with sisters, never one to know the nature of small boys. She knew Draco would be his own challenge alone, she always knew she would have to work harder to raise a boy in this world. She felt a familiar greed creeping on her heart, one that determined her to get whatever she wanted. 

She wanted this child. 

Even if Narcissa had always known she would give birth to a son, there had always been the desire to have a daughter. A selfish wish that hid on the walls of her heart and found its way into the light constantly. 

“Severus Snape is waiting in the drawing room, Mistress.” one of the elves said from the door, barely poking his head inside. “Shall we ready Miss Y/N’s belongings for him to take?” 

Narcissa looked at the crib next to Draco’s, lifting her chin. 

“No.”

“Mistress?” 

“Severus will care for her, but so will I.” she said, standing. “Everything stays as it is.”

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Oh to ramble about anything to Regulus Black...

girl girl hear me out YAPPER GF X REGULUS!! Pls pls pls like u could do anything u wanted with them!!! I have a few ideas (take any or none)

May be she just walks up to him one day like clearly wanting to befriend him cuz she has a lil crush and just starts yapping about how the great hall had her fave pastry for breakfast today and he's so confused but also intrigued and then she starts sitting next to him in classes and asking him to hang out at hogsmead and she just yaps and sometimes she thinks may be he zones out but then he'll bring up this super niche detail she mentioned last time like "hey what happened to that quill you forgot in the potions lecture?"

they r already dating and she worries she's too much energy and talk for him and tries to be quiet and he's just like r u sick? R u mad at me? What's wrong u haven't gone on a 30 min description/rant about ur day

3. May be someone else brings up she talks a lot and Reggie defends her?

you guys really love your bubbly/talkative readers with Regulus, don't you? (so do i); thanks for your request!

Regulus Black x yapper!reader who didn't think he was actually listening

p1 | p2

CW: fem!reader, rolling thoughts, brief mention of difficulty making friends, people talking about reader behind her back, swear words (on ellecdc? nooo [sarcasm])

Your family said that you had an incessant need to fill silence from the moment you could talk. 

“If there’s a room with our daughter in it, you can be certain that it won’t be quiet.” Your mum had proclaimed as she beamed at you lovingly one day.

While it was certainly a trait that your family had always found rather endearing, you felt that it made it particularly difficult making friends once you began attending Hogwarts. 

But the friends you managed to make loved you for it, and they had often stated “you can call her what you want but you can’t call her boring.” 

That didn’t mean your other classmates appreciated your stories or tangents, though. 

Which is how you ended up serving numerous detentions for speaking during class or lectures and disturbing the students around you, and how you’d been cycled through numerous seat partners in potions class. 

And that is how poor Regulus Black ended up stuck sharing a worktable with the likes of you.

He didn’t seem to mind, though. And if he did, well, he certainly never said anything about it.

You were quite sure he tuned you out during your rambles, hardly ever sparing you a glance and keeping his eyes trained on his parchment in front of him as he took dutiful notes during lectures.

Couldn’t be you, however.

No.

You were too busy lamenting about the fact that you couldn’t get more than twenty feet to the mooncalf herd up the hill behind the quidditch pitch before they would all run off. They only came out at night, you see, and you wanted to take some photos of them. Some photos turned into midnight picnics, and picnics turned into sharing apple slices by means of throwing them towards the bug-eyed beasts and watching them argue over the slice until you threw another. But even after feeding them forty seven apples and counting at this point (Winky the house elf from the kitchen was not pleased with you), they still wouldn’t let you get any closer to them.

Your next course of action was to try a smellier and higher value treat; you wondered then if mooncalves could have tuna? Tuna was certainly smelly enough. Well, if you couldn’t entice the mooncalves, you’d certainly entice a cat or two. 

You wondered then if mooncalves and cats got along? Kneazles were nearly the same size as the poor beasts, but cats were much smaller. You figured cats would look at a mooncalf the same way they’d look at a goat. 

You’d seen a cat ride a goat once, not many people believed you, though. You’d have to learn how to make a pensieve one day just to prove it to everyone. You didn’t much care for goats, though; something about their square pupils seemed alien to you. 

Which seemed odd considering there were numerous beasts in the magical world that really were quite alien, yet it was  goats that did it for you.

And why were they always associated with the devil? Was it because of the square pupils? Do you think there’d be a book that explained that?

But you didn’t even realise that the period had ended until Regulus stood and collected his books, offering you a curt nod before leaving the classroom. 

Fuck….do you think he’d let you copy his notes? 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Merlin’s tits, she never stops talking! I feel bad for the poor sod stuck next to her; Black probably wants to avada himself every class. You heard a classmate mutter as you walked to your workbench, movements slowed as you lowered yourself into your chair and tried not to let their words hurt you. 

You were used to the comments, you were used to the sentiment honestly; did they think it was easy being you? Did they think you didn’t get tired of listening to yourself too? 

Of course you did, it was exhausting; your brain never stopped moving, and apparently, neither did your mouth.

But it did hurt a little, perhaps because Regulus had been quite gracious about it thus far. He had listened to you carry on about the astrological significance of space waste and how that was affecting the magic of the stars. He had listened to you bemoan about the positive impact that centaur migration had on local flora and fauna and how the fencing of fields and forests was going to cause unimaginable damage to the life cycles of such. He also had listened to your morose mooncalf story and the update the next day that you were able to order cans of tuna via owl to the castle.

And he’d not so much as bat an eye at you.

Certainly he’d have said something to you if you bothered him? 

Although, perhaps this was why Slughorn put him beside you, because he knew Regulus wouldn’t say anything; had Regulus done something to anger Slughorn? Was placing you beside Regulus less about you driving your seat mates crazy, but more about being a punishment for Regulus?

Well, you couldn’t imagine Regulus had done anything bad enough to deserve a full term with you as a potions partner.

No, you decided, you would not be his punishment.

So when Regulus entered class that day, and Slughorn read out the instructions for today’s potion brew, you resisted the urge to speak.

You were quiet when retrieving your potion ingredients, you were quiet as you checked and double checked the brewing instructions, and you were quiet as you waited for the potion to reach its boiling point. 

You actually thought you’d done quite well; you sort of wished you had started a timer, this may very well have been a record for you. 

Well, unless sleeping counted. Would sleeping count as being quiet? Oh gods, what if you talked in your sleep too!? You’d have to ask your roommates.

“L/N.” Regulus called as if it hadn’t been the first time he’d done so. “You alright?” He asked, ducking down in an attempt to meet your gaze as you watched a divot appear between his brows.

“Yeah? Why?” You asked, finding yourself furrowing your brows in solidarity; you found Regulus to be too pretty to look so worried. 

He shrugged his shoulders and straightened up, though the space between his brows remained divoted. “You’ve been awfully quiet, s’all.” He murmured quietly, and you were surprised to see a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” You muttered perhaps pointedly; his eyes narrowing to match the furrowed brows. 

“Says who?”

Your eyes traitorously darted to the students who had been discussing your habits, and Regulus followed your gaze.

He rolled his eyes and muttered something in French under his breath as he turned his attention back towards your shared potion. “Those tossers are just mad that they have nothing of value to say.”

You more felt than heard a disbelieving breath escape your lips as you looked at Regulus in bemusement. 

He didn’t seem to notice though, as he continued to the next step in your potion and carried on. “Did the tuna work?”

You stared at him dumbly before your brain kicked back into gear. “I beg your pardon?”

“The tuna.” He repeated. “For the mooncalves?”

Oh.

“Oh.” You started, giving your head a shake as you tried to find your balance you had long lost during this conversation. “Erm, no, but I did indeed attract a few cats.”

“Ah.” Regulus offered, smiling at you (or at the expected poof from the potion signifying that the two of you had brewed it correctly thus far). 

“Also, I found out why goats are often associated with the devil, but the book you’d be looking for is Biblical in nature.”

You stared at him with your mouth agape as he continued. “There’s a quote where that Christ bloke mentions something about separating people from one another just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. They’re used as a metaphor for the ‘bad’ or ‘inferior’ member of any group; it could also be understood as the divide between the pure and the wicked. I say goats got a bad rap, though.”

The next step in your potion brewing process was to allow the potion to simmer until it turned a milky white colour, so Regulus lowered the heat before appearing to remember something.

“I almost forgot…” He started as he began rooting through his book bag. “I asked the shopkeep at Brood & Peck, and she said this is a favourite of mooncalves; maybe you’ll have more luck tonight?” He asked as he held out a parchment of beast treats to you. 

“You’ve been listening? This whole time?” You whispered in awe as you took the bag delicately as if  he had just handed you a delicate china dish. 

His brows furrowed again as he searched your eyes. “Well…yeah? I’m rather invested now.” He explained just as your potion turned its intended colour. 

“Very good Mr. Black, Miss. L/N.” Professor Slughorn commented as he walked past your workbench. 

You were alerted to the fact that class was over when everyone’s potions were vanished with a pop and students started to pack up their belongings.

“You’ll keep me posted, yeah? About the mooncalves?” Regulus asked as he started walking backwards towards the door. 

“Sure.” You murmured, earning you a wide smile from the notoriously quiet boy. 

Yes… You’d be more than happy to keep Regulus Black posted.

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[scriptedinkbyxim]

retreating to rain

Regulus Black x reader ✩ 3k words

summary: When Regulus suddenly pulls away from you, arguing and ignoring you, you decide to mirror his behaviour. how long can this avoidance last?

for this request here!

cw: angst with a happy ending?, Regulus doesn't deal with his feelings in a healthy way.

Regulus Black is many things. Some of them good – brilliant, fiercely loyal – and some of them not so good. Lately, it seems he’s chosen to lean hard into the worst of it: avoidant, closed off, stubborn to a fault. Almost overnight, he shut down, retreating behind an invisible wall that no one’s been able to scale.

The fight that followed shouldn’t have happened, but it did. Tension had been building for days, maybe weeks, until it finally cracked. What came out were clipped words, cryptic excuses, cold eyes, and raised voices. You knew exactly what he was doing, pulling away, keeping you at arm’s length. And you knew why. Years of being close to him had taught you the patterns, the ways Regulus handled pain or fear. But this time felt different. Sharper. Colder. Worse.

Now, he’s barely there at all. He slips in and out of rooms like a shadow, avoiding eye contact, changing direction the moment he sees you. You haven't spoken properly in weeks, and really, you've hardly even seen him. Just fragments, his back disappearing around a corner, the edge of his voice drifting through a corridor. Like he’s haunting the place more than living in it.

You see him first at the end of the corridor, all sharp lines and quick steps, his satchel slung over one shoulder, head down like he’s got somewhere important to be. It’s a lie, of course. You know his timetable. You know he has charms in fifteen minutes, and that it’s three doors down from where you’re standing. There’s no rush. He just doesn’t want to be intercepted. Doesn’t want to see you.

Which is exactly why you step out from the alcove you’ve been leaning against and into his path.

He hesitates, just barely, but it’s enough. His gait falters for half a second before he smooths it over. You can see it in the way his jaw tenses, the flicker of annoyance that crosses his face before it shutters again.

"Regulus."

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even glance at you. Just keeps walking, brushing past like you’re no more than part of the scenery. A Stone wall. A speck of dust. Irrelevant.

"Regulus," you try again, firmer this time, planting yourself more squarely in his way. “Seriously? You’re just going to pretend I’m not here?”

He veers around you with surgical precision, not so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. It’s almost impressive, the way he navigates the space like you’re nothing but air.

Your chest tightens. “You’re unbelievable.”

Still nothing. His footsteps echo down the corridor, growing fainter, lighter, until all you’re left with is silence and the low, familiar simmer of humiliation blooming under your skin.

You stand there a moment longer, watching the spot where he disappeared around the corner, feeling something inside you snap, a thread pulled too tight and finally giving way.

Fine.

If Regulus Black wants to rot in whatever self-made hell he’s wrapped himself in, then so be it. Let him. You’re done chasing after shadows. Done trying to break through walls that were never meant to let you in.

You turn on your heel, fists clenched at your sides. There’s no relief in the decision, just an exhausted sort of fury curling beneath your ribs. Bitter and brittle and long overdue.

You’ll make it simple for him.

-

Ignoring Regulus becomes a discipline, something sharp and deliberate. Like learning a new spell, it’s difficult at first, but easier with repetition. You stop aching when he enters a room. Stop scanning the corridors for the flash of his robes or the angle of his jaw. You stop checking your watch and counting the minutes until your paths might cross, because now, it doesn’t matter.

He’s nothing to you now. Nothing. Or so you say.

In the common room, you take your place in the circle of armchairs closest to the fire, the way you always have. He sits two chairs away, as he often does, silent, motionless, legs crossed and posture rigid. It’s almost normal. You don’t look at him. You laugh at something Barty says, your hand curling around the steaming cup of tea in your lap, and don’t notice the way Regulus’ head lifts just slightly, or the way his eyes linger too long.

You’ve gotten very good at not noticing.

In Potions, you partner with Mary Macdonald. She's competent, efficient, and doesn’t ask you why you’re not working with Regulus anymore. People do notice, of course but you give them nothing. When someone nudges you during breakfast and asks, “Is Regulus alright? He seems a bit off lately,” you just blink and say, “I wouldn’t know.”

And that’s the truth. You wouldn’t.

You don’t know what he does with his evenings now, or whether he still takes his tea with two sugars. You don’t know if he’s sleeping, if he’s eating, if his nightmares have returned. You’ve stopped wondering. Or at least, you’re pretending you have. It's almost the same thing.

Even when you catch glimpses of him – half-reflections in windows, the blur of his profile at the end of the dining hall – you hold your ground. You don’t let your eyes linger. You don’t allow yourself the indulgence of curiosity. You don’t break.

Because Regulus may be hurting, unraveling quietly under the weight of whatever silent war he’s waging, but he made a choice.

He chose to push you away. To make you feel small and unwanted and forgettable.

And you won’t let yourself be made to feel that way again.

-

The rain seems inevitable. The clouds hang heavy in the sky above, a promise of something cold and unforgiving. You’re already late for Transfiguration, but honestly, it’s the last thing on your mind. 

You spot him in the courtyard before he notices you, and you correct your course. A quick detour around a column, a turn of the corner, a speedier pace to your step, and you'll be out of his reach.

But no. The second your foot hits the cobblestone, there's a hand, rough and cold, seizing your arm. You know that touch.

You look up, meeting his eyes for the first time in weeks. Regulus Black looks awful. His eyes are shadowed and hollowed-out. His hair is a mess, falling too far over his forehead, his robes unkempt, like he hasn’t been sleeping, like he hasn't been doing anything except falling apart.

You want to look away. You don’t. You keep your eyes trained on him, but that deep pit of anger in your stomach is still there, sharp and heavy.

“What do you want?” you ask, softer than you should, though anger tints your voice.

He doesn’t answer, straight away. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks at you, and for just a moment, you see it. The shame. The apology, maybe. The confusion. It’s all there, hiding under that practiced mask of indifference he wears.

"I just want to talk," he finally mutters, his voice hoarse, like it’s been a while since he’s had the chance to speak to anyone at all.

You laugh, bitter and short, shaking your head. "Oh, and whatever Regulus wants, he gets, right?" You can hear the venom in your tone, and you can’t help it. It’s all that’s left.

Regulus flinches at the sound of your laugh, like you slapped him across the face. For a moment, he stands still, unsure how to react to the accusation, or maybe to the bitterness that coats your words. His grip on your arm tightens for a second, then loosens again, as though he's testing how much distance he can maintain before you pull away completely.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he says quietly.

You stand there, staring at him, heart pounding in your chest. The rain is starting to fall in light drizzles, little droplets sliding down the cobblestones, soft and relentless. You want to scream, to ask why, to demand something – anything – from him. But your voice is caught somewhere between your chest and your throat, the words tangled and useless. So, you stay quiet.

Regulus’ eyes shift to the ground, like he can’t bear to hold your gaze any longer. His hand drops from your arm, and he seems to fold into himself, his composure slipping. You can see it in the way his shoulders slump, in the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I know I fucked up,” he mutters, voice hoarse, barely audible against the rain. “I know. I thought... I thought you’d be better off. And I can’t–”

You cut him off, not out of anger, but because the words don’t even make sense to you. “That wasn’t your decision to make,” you say, voice quieter than it should be, but the sting is still sharp. “I’m more than capable of making my own choices, Regulus.”

His face tightens. He looks like he’s about to say something – his mouth opens, but no words come out. He swallows hard, forcing something down that’s threatening to choke him. He opens his mouth again, but nothing. Again. A third time, and still nothing.

A fresh wave of frustration bubbles in your chest. You’ve had enough. He can’t expect you to stand here, waiting for him to speak the things he’s too afraid to say, too proud to admit. You’ve been waiting for weeks, and all this silence is suffocating you.

“I need to go,” you say, your tone flat and final. You push past him, careful not to make contact. Every step feels like it weighs a tonne, like it’s taking everything in you to turn your back on him. To walk away. It should feel good, shouldn’t it?

But as soon as you make it halfway across the courtyard, you hear his voice crack like thunder.

“I need you.”

The words stop you dead in your tracks. You freeze, caught between the weight of the words and the weight of the rain beginning to fall more steadily now, the drops slicking your hair to your neck and drenching your robes.

You don't turn around. You can't. If you do, you’re afraid you’ll shatter. But you can feel his eyes on you, burning with something you can’t quite place.

“I hate that I do,” he continues, his voice raw now, desperate. The words sound like they’re being dragged out of him, like every one of them is fighting against the pressure inside him. “But I can’t go on pretending I don’t.”

“What… what are you saying?” The words come out quieter than you expect, a little shaky, but you can’t help it. It’s like you’re underwater, and the only thing that matters now is the sound of his voice.

Regulus steps closer, but the distance between you still feels insurmountable. You don’t turn around. You won’t. If you do, you're afraid you’ll be swept away by whatever this is, and you’re not sure you can survive it again.

He runs a hand through his wet hair, clearly frustrated. The damp strands stick to his forehead, his eyes dark.

"I'm a fucking mess," he says, the words tumbling out with a force that seems to shudder through him. "Everything around us is a fucking mess. There's all these expectations being put on me, I feel like I don't know anything anymore, like I don't know what I'm doing, or where to go."

The sincerity in his voice, the rawness of his words, makes something inside you twist painfully. A part of you wants to reach out, to understand, but all you can feel is the knot tightening in your chest.

Why is he doing this now? After everything.

Anger, sharp and sudden, flickers through you. It surges up from the pit of your stomach, leaving no room for uncertainty. You turn around then, and when you do, you can’t help but raise your voice, a crack of frustration breaking through the dam you'd built around yourself.

“What does that have to do with me?” Your tone is biting, louder than you intended, but you can't help it. He’s breaking apart in front of you, and you're the one left holding the weight of his mess, of his silence. 

Regulus flinches at the sharpness of your voice, like you've struck him physically, and his eyes flicker with something that’s unmistakably guilty. His mouth opens again, then closes, his brows furrowing, struggling to hold himself together. The words he wants to say seem just out of reach, lost in his tangled thoughts.

"I–I don’t know," he breathes, hands trembling at his sides, water dripping from the end of his soaked sleeves. "But I need you to understand, this isn’t about you… it never was. It’s me. It’s always been me, and I…" His voice cracks on the last word, admitting any of this is costing him. Rarely, if ever, does he talk so openly about anything, let alone this.

You can’t stop looking at him, the mess he’s become. His hair plastered against his forehead, his face drawn, like he’s seen more than he can handle. And it hits you then, how hard he is trying.

You swallow, trying to keep the lump in your throat from choking you. “I don’t care about the reasons, Regulus. I don’t want to care anymore.”

The words sound like they’re coming from someone else, someone who doesn't know the ache of seeing him like this, standing in the rain, looking like he’s falling apart at the seams.

He stares at you, his face crumbling realising how much he’s lost, how much he’s pushed away. He steps forward in the rain, desperate, but you don’t move. 

“Please,” he says, and the desperation in his voice hits you in the gut. His voice is so raw now, jagged, almost broken. “Please don’t walk away from me. I can’t–I don’t know how to fix this, but I need you. I need you, and I don’t know how to say it any clearer. I’m an idiot. A fucking coward who pushed you away because I couldn’t face what was staring at me.”

It’s too raw, too vulnerable. But you're already too tired to be angry, too worn down by the silence and the coldness that he wrapped around himself. And yet, here he is – breaking down in the middle of a thunderstorm, looking like he might just drown in it if you don’t say something, anything.

"I’m in love with you," Regulus blurts, as though the words are being ripped out of him. His breath shudders in the rain, and you can see his chest heaving with the effort of speaking.

“I—what?” 

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, louder now, the words crashing through the storm. His eyes pierce yours, his whole body tense. “And I’ve always been. And I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t need you when I do.”

Regulus moves again, his hands reaching out to you, tentative but insistent. He’s closer now, his chest barely an inch from yours, the rain soaking both of you.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s been building up between you both. Maybe it’s the silence that’s finally broken. But without thinking, you reach for him, pulling him closer by the collar of his damp robes.

“I hate you,” you whisper, even though there’s no venom in it. There’s something softer in your voice now, even as your hands grip him tightly to stop him from disappearing. “I hate that you did this. I hate that you made me feel like nothing.”

Regulus’ eyes flicker with pain, but his hands are on your face now, gentle and desperate, as though he’s terrified you might still walk away.

“I know,” he breathes, his lips barely brushing yours. “I know. I don’t deserve you. I never did. But I’m here now. Please, please, let me fix this.” His voice is barely a whisper, terrified.

And then, before either of you can say anything more, the distance between you collapses.

His lips crash against yours, hungry, urgent, desperate. It’s a collision of everything – weeks of hurt and silence, years of unspoken feelings. The kiss is messy, raw, as though he’s pouring everything into it, everything he’s kept locked away. You feel it in the way his hands clutch you, pulling you closer, like he needs to prove something.

Rain washes over both of you, but it doesn't matter. You kiss him harder, and he meets you with the same urgency, as if each second you’re together is a second worth fighting for. It’s not graceful or perfect..

And when you finally pull away, breathless, your forehead resting against his, you realise that for the first time in weeks, everything feels like it could be okay again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking again. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to.”

And this time, when you look at him, you don’t look away. You let him see everything in your eyes. Hurt, anger, confusion and something softer.

“I know,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion. “I know.” masterlist <3