The Slytherin common room was warm and alive with the quiet hum of conversation, the fire casting a greenish glow over the stone walls. You were curled in a chair near the hearth, legs tucked beneath you, half-listening to Theodore Nott as he complained about something McGonagall had said in class, something about his “attitude.”

He was sharp tonight. Joking, animated, hands moving as he talked. This wasn’t one of his brooding moods. When Theo wanted to be, he was magnetic—loud enough to be noticed, clever enough to keep people listening. You liked him like this. You liked him in most forms, really.

He was mid-sentence when a small voice interrupted.

“You two are a lovely couple,” a Slytherin first-year girl said, slowing as she passed by.

You blinked.
“Oh, we’re not a couple—” you said quickly, caught off guard.

Theo didn’t look away or brush it off. His talking stopped immediately, and his eyes locked on yours. The expression on his face wasn’t teasing. It was open, real, and unguarded in a way that startled you a little. His usual smirk was gone.

"I think he wishes otherwise..." the little girl said, innocence in her voice but she knew what she was doing.

It was just him now. Waiting. You swallowed, pulse quickening, and said it before you could second-guess yourself. “Well… maybe I do too.”

The first-year hesitated for a second sensing the shift, maybe then continued on her way without another word, disappearing into the dorm corridor.

Theo leaned back slowly in his chair, watching you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he laughed low and quiet, but undeniably happy and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you’d actually said that.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, grinning now. A real one. One that stayed. And for once, he wasn’t joking.