The hour is late and the room is quiet save for the occasional pop from the fire. You’re curled into the corner of one of the couches, a book open on your lap. Theo sits close—too close for someone who claims to be just reading—but you haven’t moved away. His shoulder brushes yours lightly every time he shifts, and his eyes haven’t really been on the book for at least ten minutes.

He glances over at you now, his expression unreadable for a moment, then relaxed—confident in that quiet, infuriating way he always is.

“You know, I think we should go out sometime,” Theodore says.

You look up, raising your brow, and a small laugh escapes before you can stop it. His gaze lingers on your face as though he’s waiting for something more than a reaction.

“Draco is your best friend,” you say, tone half-teasing, half-warning. “I don’t date my brother’s friends.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, leaning back into the couch. One arm drapes over the back behind you, his fingers lightly tapping against your shoulder.

“I guess I have to k!ck him then,” he says with a shrug, like it’s the simplest solution in the world.

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Very funny, love,” you say.

The couch creaks softly as Theo shifts and turns towards you. His smirk falters slightly, and curiosity flickers in his eyes.

“Love?” he repeats, his voice softer this time, almost playful—but there’s something else there too. Something careful.

You glance at him, your lips tugging into a slow smile as your heart skips just enough beats for you to notice. “Don’t get excited,” you say.

He watches you for a moment. “Too late,” Theodore says, and somehow, it feels like everything has already started to change.