“I am never going to shag you.”

It was said plainly. Bluntly. As though that settled the matter forever.

Theodore Nott had only blinked at you once from across the Slytherin common room before returning to his cigarette like you hadn’t just insulted his entire existence.

Which, frankly, you had.

Everyone knew Theodore was easy, and you meant that in the rudest way possible.

Not in the pathetic sort of way though. In the careless sort of way.

The boy would snog nearly anyone if the mood struck him. Parties, drunken dares, lingering looks across dark corridors — none of it particularly mattered to him.

By seventh year, most of Slytherin had accepted that Theodore’s idea of commitment lasted approximately three hours and a cigarette.

He’d kissed Blaise once after too much Firewhisky because, according to him, “Blaise looked bored.” He’d slept with Pansy twice after separate parties and acted entirely normal at breakfast afterwards, like it was no more meaningful than borrowing a quill.

Disturbingly enough, none of your friend group found it awkward.

That was simply how they were.

But whilst Theodore shagged people carelessly, he obsessed over you with terrifying precision.

That was different.

It irritated him.

You ignored every advance with infuriating ease.

It lingered in the way he always made room for you beside him on the common room sofas, your legs thrown over his lap whilst he read quietly as though it were the most natural thing in the world. In the way he leaned far too close whenever he spoke to you, voice low enough that it crawled beneath your skin. In the absent kisses he sometimes pressed against your knuckles or the inside of your wrist — gestures so strangely gentle they felt almost submissive in a thoroughly twisted sort of way.

And still, you refused him every single time.

You made certain he knew better.

Theodore had always known.

You weren’t going to sleep with him.

Which was why your current situation felt dangerously complicated.

Technically, this wasn’t shagging.

The Slytherin common room still throbbed faintly with music downstairs, Blaise having practically dragged everyone out for some ridiculous party. The air smelled of smoke, expensive alcohol, and melting candle wax by the time Theodore had half-carried you upstairs after noticing you’d had far too much to drink.

You’d been upset over some idiot boy you’d recently started seeing — another hormonal Hogwarts prat who’d only spoken to you because he thought it might get him into your knickers eventually.

Typical.

Theodore had listened to your rant with unusual patience whilst guiding you upstairs, one hand resting lightly against your back.

So now you sat in your dorm ranting bitterly whilst Theodore lounged beside you atop the dark green bedspread, sleeves rolled carelessly to his elbows, tie hanging loose around his throat.

Silence settled after that, heavy and strange.

The candles flickered softly against the stone walls whilst snow tapped faintly against the windows. Theodore watched you with those sharp hazel eyes of his — observant, unreadable, entirely too calm.

“You deserve better than blokes who only want one thing from you,” he said at last.

You laughed dryly. “And you don’t?”

Theodore tilted his head slightly.

“Of course I do,” he answered honestly. “I’m just not lying about it.”

That shut you up rather quickly.

You guys had sat in complete silence for a while and then, soon things led into a different path and you’d mumbled something along the lines of allowing him to touch you.

And now, his hand moved with deliberate slowness beneath the fabric of your trousers.

hmTheodore watched you the entire time, hazel eyes heavy-lidded in the dim candlelight of your dorm, the distant thump of music from the Slytherin common room still vibrating faintly through the stone walls below.

You breathed out shakily, the slightest squirm escaping you before you could stop it.