A/N: A little Hermione POV today. For those asking why Hermione is hesitant in having sex with Theo so soon despite having had fleeting affairs in the past with Muggles, the reason is that Theo is the end. They'll be married and that will be that and she's taking things one step at a time because she wants it to be purposeful and memorable.

Chapter Twenty-Five

March 25th, 2004

Hermione learnt a great many things about Theo Nott during the few short weeks since being engaged to the man.

She learnt that when he was truly sick, he accepted her help with a bit of reluctant grace, but when hungover, he whinged like a child. She learnt that his complaints irked something fierce within her and provoked her into making his liquor-riddled headaches worse. She learnt that he fed Crookshanks when she wasn't looking to earn her familiar's affection, which she had to admit, was working a lot more than she thought it might. Having spent the better part of ten years watching Crooks hiss and scratch at any man that wasn't Sirius Black, seeing him snuggle up next to Theo without snarling had been shocking enough to make her suspicious.

She learnt that he watched her and that, strangely, his stare didn't make her uncomfortable. He was studying her the same way she studied a book or a brewing potion. Looking for things in a text that needed to be memorised for the future, or missing pieces of a potion that needed to be added. Theo watched how she fixed her morning coffee so he could—and did—replicate it later on. He watched her as she came and went every day, gauging her emotions so he could try and figure out how to help with whatever she needed.

She learnt that, despite Slytherins being thought of as very selfish people, Theo fit right in with Daphne, Blaise, and Draco—people who were selfish to an extent, but also very devoted to caring for things and people they thought of as theirs. She knew she should have felt irritated to think that someone thought of her as belonging to them, but it was oddly comforting.

She thought of Daphne, who took care of Harry in an orderly manner while somehow being able to make him smile and relax. She treated him like he was normal, which was what he needed. She thought of Blaise who joked around with Ginny, teasing and pushing her like she wasn't some fragile little thing the way a lot of men thought her to be. She thought of Draco who worshipped the very ground that Luna walked on, going so far as to learn how her mind worked when no one else could. At the same time, the Slytherins were self-preservationists. Daphne needed Harry, someone strong and devoted, and she put effort into keeping him on solid ground so that he wouldn't break when she eventually needed to lean on him.

Blaise, so used to women fawning all over him because of his money and looks, really just wanted a playmate. Someone to make him laugh and roll their eyes instead of simpering at his every move. He needed something real.

Draco, of course, needed redemption and sought it in the form of prostrating himself at the feet of someone his family had severely wronged, someone who, like him, was very misunderstood. Luna offered him salvation the way that the rest of the world could not.

Hermione learnt that Theo desperately wanted to take care of her, and on a level that was frustrating. What little she knew about his parents had made her understand that he needed to prove he was a man by being the opposite of his father, who had been nothing but an abusive, wretched excuse for a human being. At the same time, Theo watched her carefully to learn what she needed, which was often independence, as well as the desire to feel important and useful. She wouldn't say it openly, but the fact that her parents weren't allowing her to contribute to the recovery or . . . well, comfort, of her mother, was making her skin crawl. She needed to do something. So on particularly frustrating days when her parents wouldn't let her help and Remus wouldn't let her come back to work, Theo asked for help, giving her something to do, someone to take care of.

She learnt that, though he'd taken a sabbatical from going out and working, he still took daily owls from businesses and old families seeking his opinion or advice. He was devoted to his craft and became angrily frustrated when he couldn't solve a problem. She learned that he kept his office clean and organised it himself, but left the rest of the manor in the hands of the elves who he treated with respect in a calm way that left them well-cared for and still feeling useful. Hermione on the other hand often made them uneasy, though she was learning that owning house-elves was a give and take relationship. They'd give her run of the kitchen when she wanted it, if she'd let them take liberties with scrubbing down the rest of the manor without complaint.

She learnt that he was respectful of people, particularly women, which she gathered came again from his need to be as unlike his father as possible, but it also meant he was a terrible flirt and truly enjoyed getting her heart racing by stepping into her personal bubble in a way that most wouldn't dare, and then withdrawing quickly enough to leave her feeling bereft of his presence.

"What're you making?" he said one morning, approaching her from behind but making enough noise with his steps so as not to put her on guard. He practically whispered the words, standing close enough against her back that she could feel his warmth, but not enough that she felt crowded and claustrophobic. In fact, he left just enough space between them that her body naturally leaned backwards, seeking to press against him.

"Just a umm . . . salad," she said, purposely trying to breathe through her mouth so that she would avoid smelling the mint on his breath. "Oranges and jicama. It'll give you energy and you can lower the dosage on the Invigoration Draught."

Theo smiled, and she could feel his expression even without looking at him; she suppressed a grin that tried to surface on her own face when he slipped a hand around her waist and beneath her arm to pluck a slice of orange between two fingers, then leaning forward to feed himself over her shoulder.

"Mmm," he said, sucking the lingering juice off his fingers which caused her to think back to the morning when he'd caught her in bed, moments after a self-stimulating climax where he'd sucked her fingers into his mouth, tasting her. "Always taking care of me," he said with a grin and then kissed the side of her head before ducking out of the kitchen, leaving her breathing heavy over a bowl of poorly-cut fruit.

She learnt that he had a weak spot when it came to her not falling for his charms. It was difficult, of course; he was so very, very beautiful, but it made her puff up with pride when he'd say something seductive or with a heavy implication and, instead of blushing and whimpering at his words and actions, she would retaliate.

More than once she'd purposely knocked something over at breakfast in order to drop to her knees before him to clean it up, smirking to herself when she'd hear him groan as she "accidentally" bumped the inside of his thigh with her head and then offer apologies for her clumsiness. She would sit back in her seat and smile innocently while he slightly glared at her, clearly knowing that she was anything but.

Hermione learnt things about herself as well.

Like how the feel of his fingers on her skin was electrifying. How, in the morning before she opened her eyes upon waking, she would lay in bed and feel him brushing his fingers against her hair, over the curve of her cheeks, and down her jaw. She would force herself not to react as she listened to him breathing, and how each breath became sharper and heavier when she moved and stretched for his viewing pleasure. She learnt that it took a lot of effort to remind herself that this was so very new, because it felt so comfortably right.

She kept desperately quiet, trying her best not to react when she felt him push hair away from her shoulder, lean forward and touch his lips to her throat, trailing a path up to her ear where she let go of a whimper that was inching its way out of her. Touch me, fuck, please for the love of Merlin, touch me, she silently pleaded and then moaned when she felt his hand on her ribs. She let him take liberties with her supposedly sleeping body, knowing that if she made him aware that she was completely awake, that meant that she was acknowledging this growing tension between them and the desperate need to break it and give in to the obvious burning desires.

When he palmed a breast and sucked at her neck she almost said, fuck it, and mauled him. It really had been too long since she'd been shagged. The few occasional snogs they'd had since their first real kiss weeks earlier had been hot and heavy but ended far too quickly when they both tried to be mature and reasonable, pulling back before things got out of control. Now though, laying in bed in the early morning with her body still relaxed from deep sleep and Theo's hands and mouth sparking her nerves to life . . . she wanted to throw control out the window.

Like the button of a lift, when Theo's thumb circled her nipple, Hermione's thigh reacted of its own accord and lifted to rest against his hip and it took every ounce of strength she had not to rock her pelvis forward in search of contact, proof that he was as affected by her as she was by him. She didn't need physical proof, however, when Theo groaned against her skin. "Fuck. Please wake up, Hermione. I'm a rotten man who's already groped you in your sleep, but I'd desperately like some consent here," he said and then nearly pinched the pebble peak of her breast between his thumb and forefinger.

Say "yes" you idiot! her subconscious screamed.

"Yes," she whispered in what felt like defeat and victory at the same time; at least, until Theo stopped and pulled away from her.

"You're awake?" he asked, staring down at her.

She nodded, keeping her lids a little heavy to try and hide the fact that her pupils were likely blown wide with desire for him. "Have been for a while." Don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop, she thought to herself as she stared up at him.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he said before kissing her.

She grinned, parting her lips immediately and stroking her tongue against his bottom lip, silently telling him that she did not want just another short bout of kissing this morning. She wanted more, needed more, burned for more. He groaned and slipped his tongue into her mouth and her eyes nearly rolled at the soft feel of him; the taste of him. The noises he made fueled her feminine pride. As delicious as it was to have him make her whimper and moan, she had an ego to rival that of any Slytherin or Gryffindor wizard, and a need to prove that she was near perfect at anything she tried. To offer a not-so-subtle hint at some talents that she knew she could bring to their eventual marital bed, Hermione began gently sucking on his tongue, relishing the way that his breathing changed. Oh good, he understands.

Her smugness fell away when she felt his fingers slip beneath her shirt in search of bare skin. No. This was a situation she needed control of. "Wait," she said and pulled away from him.

He winced apologetically and then gave her an understanding nod. "I'm sorry, I was too—"

"No," she said quickly. "It's just . . ." she sighed and summoned her Gryffindor courage, pulling the t-shirt up over her head, grateful that it didn't get caught in her hair. She closed her eyes at first, feeling the slightly cool air of the room brush against her bare chest, and waited for him to say something.

"Oh Merlin," had been the first thing Ron had said the first time they'd fumbled around in his bedroom at the Burrow after the war. The scar left behind by Dolohov was the largest and darkest by far, but the one at her throat from Bellatrix's knife was just as pronounced. Burn marks from the curses inside the Lestrange vault were smattered across her torso and the redhead had taken the blame for each of the marks on her flesh because he'd been there by her side each time, and had failed to save her.

"It's fine," she remembered saying when he refused to touch her, and the few times they'd tried to be intimate after that had needed to be done in the dark to force away the guilt he felt.

Terry wasn't as bad, though his eyes had lingered in curiosity. At the time she'd felt so terribly inadequate, leftovers from her experience with Ron. Of course, now she knew that Terry's lack of enthusiasm to bared breasts had less to do with her scars and more to do with the breasts in general.

The few Muggles she'd been with hadn't bothered looking because she refused to do anything with the lights on. If their fingers stumbled over a raised mark, they would hesitate and she'd force herself to moan louder or move a different way to draw them back in.

But this was different. Theo knew her past and would be her future. There was no hiding this.

She bit her bottom lip and opened her eyes to see him staring at her bared flesh. She forced herself not to cry as he continued to just gape at her. "Please say something. What are you thinking?"

Theo chuckled. "I'm afraid I'll embarrass myself if I tell you."

She blinked a few times in confusion. "I meant . . . the scars," she clarified

He looked up at her and raised a brow and then looked down again. "The . . ." he said and then sighed, reaching for her forearm. "We've been over this," he said and brushed his fingers against the word carved there before kissing her again, ignoring every other imperfection with sincerity that nearly had her sobbing with relief.

She pressed her hand against his chest as he trailed his fingers up her torso, ignoring her scars while she lingered on his. She didn't want his pity, and so she offered him none in return, but still mapped every inch of skin with careful consideration. She lightly bit his bottom lip at the same time that her fingers brushed his nipple and he thrust against her in reply.

When he pulled away from her lips, she gasped for breath. His hands wrapped around her waist, holding her against him and she felt positively devoured by the man. He kissed and rubbed and licked and then, when he sucked hard, she moaned, "Nngh!" loudly and her face turned red in embarrassment. "Theo, Theo, The . . . Oh!" she squealed when he lightly nipped at her tender flesh.

He pulled away from her and began tugging at the strings of her pyjama bottoms. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

She contemplated his words, even as his hips were pressed against her, the outline of him obvious and distracting as she tried to force herself to keep a calm head even as she was imagining what it would feel like to have him inside of her. No, don't stop, she thought. We both need this. But the logical side of her brain won out in the end. Too soon. Baby steps. Test the waters or we might drown. "Not yet," she said and hoped that he understood.

Just in case, to prevent any questions that she'd be too shy to answer in her current state, Hermione pulled him up and kissed him hard, swirling her tongue around his to show him that she wanted him, needed him, needed him to want and need her in return. When his fingers touched just below her navel, she adjusted her hips, granting him silent permission.

Her eyes rolled as she rocked her hips in time with his motions, unable to not compare him to every other set of hands that had touched her. Clumsy fumbling, over-eager fingers looking to prove a point, and others who didn't even bother. There was no wonder why Theo was nearly the top of their class. He studied and memorised every movement, every response, every whimper.

She gripped his shoulder as though he'd fly away. She smiled when Theo kissed her and groaned against her mouth. She smirked and kissed him sweetly as she relished the rush of such power. Of all the magic she'd experienced, the ability to bring pleasure of this magnitude to another person was heady like nothing else. Sex, she decided, was the body's way of casting a Patronus. She giggled at the many, many jokes that could come about from the imagery.

"Oh," she said, exhaling loudly, still touching him with both hands. "Oh, Theo. You most certainly are not going to die," she decided and laughed loudly.

Theo smirked and kissed her jaw. "What makes you think I had any intentions of letting you go?"

She smiled and cast a wandless Scourgify on them both and then brought both hands up to cup his cheeks, kissing him slowly.

"I don't know whether to first smugly relish the memory of you coming when beckoned," he said in a whisper as his hand rubbed circles on her hip. "Or praise you as the Sorceress who has so easily placed my heart, mind, and body in the palm of her hand. Quite literally."

Hermione briefly frowned and then kissed his lips once more. "Body, mind, and heart?"

Theo took her wrist and turned it to kiss the inside, just below her palm. "Did you have any doubt?"

"It scares me," she admitted nervously. "Do all witches fall so easily in love with you?"

Theo sucked in a breath and looked up at her with wide eyes. She could see him struggling, fighting the urge to put up the cold mask of indifference that Slytherins perfected in order to keep people out, hide away their vulnerabilities. He desperately wanted to be loved, to be loved by her, and was so very obviously terrified of admitting it.

"I know," she said. "I know that I'm the only one Draco asked to marry you. And Daphne told me . . . about Hogwarts."

His nose twitched in irritation but he sighed. "I'm not some stalker," he said firmly. "It was . . . I admired you. You were brilliant and beautiful and I wished like hell that there could have been an opportunity to get to know you back then. I was very angry that nothing presented itself."

"If Draco had, in fact, asked another witch to save you, you would have said no. You would have fought it harder than you fought me, wouldn't you?" she asked him as she started to truly understand.

He pressed his forehead against the skin of her shoulder and then leaned down, kissing just below her collarbone; an open-mouthed kiss that allowed him to taste the sweat on her skin. "I would have said no," he admitted. "Because I didn't want to just survive . . . I wanted to live. Hermione, you make me want to live."