A/N: This chapter is from the point of view of our dear Theo.
Trigger warnings for this chapter include:
-minor character death
-mentions of death
-mentions of suicidal thoughts and depression
-anxiety attacks
-mentions of sex and self-pleasure
Thank you for the continued support of this fic.
I originally planned 11 chapters, but we're now looking at 13.
AnziaC - thank you for all your help and support; for all the early morning and late night chats as we weather our massive time difference; for answering all my dumb questions. I would be lost without your help.
JK Rowling still owns the wonderful Harry Potter world.
Please be gentle with this chapter. I've put a lot into Theo's conflicting emotions, and for some reason, this chapter feels like my baby.
So...
Here we go...
Chapter 6:
Telling Hermione about the day Daphne and Mateo had drowned, might have seemed easier to her than Theo had let on.
It had been anything but easy.
Every time he thought back on it, he was transported to the moment he'd found them. And like the first time, the colour would leech from his face while his insides tore to shreds from the shrapnel of his shattering heart.
He'd frantically chant "breathe, breathe, breathe" to himself, just as he had that day at the pond, trying to push life back into their chests. With every determined compression, the futility of his attempts had devastated him; wrecked him. Until he had to be pulled away and forced to stop while the emergency response team took over, and eventually declared that there was nothing more they could do.
But every time after that day, he'd chant those same words while he tried to pull himself back from the edge, seconds away from tumbling down the dark pit of anxiety that beckoned.
The feeling was as familiar as it was terrifying.
For years after that horrifying day, he'd had nightmares about Daphne and Mateo. Their lifeless bodies and glassy eyes and...
"Fuck!" He roared and kicked the bucket of warm soapy water he'd hauled out to the garage to wash his truck.
Water and soap suds sprayed the side of the truck and his face, the bucket clattering and bouncing away, until it came to rest on its side, swaying innocently on the grass a few feet away.
He wiped his face with a hand, feeling angry, frustrated, and guilty. He still couldn't think about it without wanting to break down. Freak out. Lose his fucking mind.
The images of that day were seared into his brain, and remembering every single detail was excruciating, paralyzing and horrendous. It made him sick to his stomach.
He was pretty sure nobody in this world hated themselves more than he hated himself for what he'd allowed to happen to his family.
He'd been a husband and a father. A protector. And he couldn't even get that right.
It was fucking pathetic.
Inexcusable.
He stalked up to his truck, yanked the door open and perched himself on the edge of the front seat, legs hanging out from the side of the door, shoulders bowed with the heaviness of the pain and guilt he was carrying.
Talking about it with Hermione yesterday somehow made it feel better and worse at the same time, like scratching open old wounds. But as painful as it was, it also prevented these wounds from festering further. It was a debridement of his past; of his pain and self-flagellation.
"Hey," Hermione's gentle voice greeted, leaning with her hip against the side of the truck bed, making him jump. She was watching him carefully. Her honey eyes astutely catalogued him, as if she could see right through him. "Everything okay?"
Theo heaved a hefty sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face trying to scrape together enough courage to weather his past. To continue moving forward.
He was so fucking tired of feeling this way.
There had been so many times over the last three years when he'd just wanted to end it all. He'd come very close on a number of occasions, but in the end, he'd always stopped. Not because he was afraid of dying, or because he'd suddenly discovered the will to live, but because he didn't deserve the peace that would come with death. It would have been too fucking easy.
He deserved to suffer; to live with what he'd done. He deserved to remember how badly he'd fucked up, every single day for the rest of his life.
After a long moment, he looked back up at Hermione, slipping his fingers through his hair, and tugging hard at the roots. "No," he shook his head. "Not really." He wasn't even remotely okay, but just her presence was enough to make him believe that he might be able to get through this somehow, someday. She made him feel like he might reach a point in his life where he would no longer hate himself as badly as he did right now.
She edged forward slowly, one step at a time, eyes trained steadily on his until she stood right before him.
He wondered if this was how she'd felt that day in the barn. The day that marked the beginning of their friendship.
Still standing patiently in front of him, she quietly asked, "Is there something I can do to help?" Her hand twitched as if to reach out, waiting until he was able to acknowledge what he wanted her to do.
His response was a deep sigh as he closed his eyes against it all.
With a knee, she nudged his legs apart and stepped in between his thighs, pulling him against her for a hug that was so absolutely tender and comprehending, that he could feel it wrap around his very bones. She felt so warm and soft against him, her vanilla scent enveloping his senses.
He dragged a deep, restorative pull of her into his lungs, and breathed it out again, expelling some of his tension with it.
He pulled one of her arms away from where it was draped over his shoulders, rubbing soothing circles against his back, slipped his fingers between hers, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "You're already doing it."
"Want to tell me what's wrong?" She coaxed solicitously.
He pulled out of her embrace and looked up at her for a long moment, trying to formulate the words to explain what he was feeling. He squared his shoulders; cleared his throat; and gave her the condensed, prettier version of what he was feeling and thinking, careful not to scare her away. "I think this weekend was a lot for me," he paused, heaving another sigh. "I think visiting their graves on Saturday, and then telling you about it yesterday brought all those feelings to the surface again."
Hermione didn't say anything. She simply nodded sympathetically and waited patiently for him to continue.
"It was really good to have you there with me. To have Draco, Blaise and Astoria there too. It's never easy to do it alone, and as much of a relief as it was to tell you about all of it, things feel a little raw today. Almost like I've had to relive all of it this weekend. Like a second funeral.
"Maybe it's the only way for you to start moving on, Theo. By actually dealing with all of it, instead of repressing it."
She was so fucking correct.
Suppressing the loss, the horror, was so much easier than thinking about it day after day; finding new ways to blame himself; sifting through more what if's; and considering how he could have prevented it all. But after three long years, maybe it was time to start dealing with it in a healthier manner so that this seed of potential between Hermione and him could grow into something real.
Something serious.
He'd hated her presence here on the estate when she'd first arrived. He remembered how pretty she'd looked that day with her short dress and sun hat, standing between his rows of grapes, like a mirage of salvation. A salvation that he'd not been ready for and hadn't expected. And it had been the first time since their deaths that he'd felt anything other than guilt, despair, and self-loathing.
Something inside him had stirred that day, and he'd hated himself for it. Hated her for being the cause. Hated himself even more for betraying the memory of Daphne. He didn't want to feel an attraction of any kind. He didn't deserve to feel anything other than the endless list of negative feelings he had for the past three years.
Then, that day in the stables, he'd seen how broken she was, too. He'd realized that he wasn't the only one in pain.
She'd been dealing with her own demons while trying her best to put on a brave face for the world around her.
He remembered the way she'd cowered away from him as if she'd expected a physical blow.
The image of her, trembling, eyes wild and terrified, had cut him to the bone. It had left him feeling raw.
But that day had changed something between them, forging a fragile, fledgling friendship. A spun-glass connection that would shatter without a gentle approach.
After a month with her here, they were finally dipping their toes into the tenuous beginnings of a relationship.
She'd asked for slow.
And he needed slow.
They both did, even if their physical attraction and chemistry were volatile.
Jumping into such a new and delicate relationship without working through their issues - together and separately - would be a recipe for disaster.
"Want to help me wash the truck?" he asked, finally changing the topic to something lighter. Something they could both deal with right now.
XXX
Theo and Hermione parted ways early evening to go take a well-deserved shower. After washing his truck, they had gone for a horse ride and later helped the workers out in the vineyards.
Washing the truck had turned into a very predictable but fun water fight, with Theo emerging victorious.
It had lifted his mood significantly after feeling so completely exposed and vulnerable - not a feeling he was comfortable with, or even used to.
He suppressed a chuckle just thinking about the way Hermione had looked after he'd wrung out a soaking sponge over her head, leaving her spluttering and mock-scowling, her chronic, almost sentient curls hanging limply down her back and plastered against her cheeks. He'd been very tempted to kiss her quite a few times during their lighthearted flirting today.
He'd been captivated by her beauty; her buoyant laughter; and the way she helped him forget about everything that had weighed him down earlier in the day.
Spending time with Hermione Granger was as easy as breathing, and he had no doubt that falling in love with her would be equally effortless.
But it was too soon.
Too soon to kiss her the way he wanted to and definitely too soon to fall in love with her, when, between the two of them, they still had a mountain of baggage to unpack, anatomize and resolve.
The other night while walking Hermione home, he'd been a little drunk. Combining his inebriation with his lack of physical intimacy for the last three years resulted in a temporary loss of self-control.
Kissing her, feeling the heat of her desire like an inferno between her legs had felt so fucking incredible. Good enough that he'd pushed things too far past Hermione's comfort zone, enough so that she'd spiralled into an anxiety attack.
It had highlighted how emotionally unprepared either was for a physical relationship. He'd been so lost in grief, hatred...guilt, that their unexpected chemistry and mutual desire had nearly blindsided him.
And Hermione...well, obviously she was dealing with some major issues. Issues terrible enough that touching her breast had triggered her in the worst way possible.
That's why he stopped himself from kissing her every time he felt compelled to do so.
Slow...
They needed to go slow.
But it was as if his body and mind were at war with each other.
His mind cautioned against haste and heedless actions, while his body campaigned for gratification and indulgence.
And while standing under the hot spray of the water in his shower with his cock so painfully hard just thinking about the way Hermione's shirt had clung to her skin today, nipples pebbled and the outline of her lacy bra visible, he found himself struggling with the concept of taking things slow, choking on the concept of delayed gratification.
He fisted his cock and gave one testing pump to see if it would relieve some of the tension and need. It didn't work. And why the fuck would it? Of course, it would only make it worse.
But would a proper wank to images of Hermione really be so bad? It's been so long since he's felt the need for release. He gave another stroke, unable to help himself. His knees buckled threateningly.
Another pump.
Fuck!
He was already so close. This was the result of denying himself any kind of pleasure over the last three years. He'd been numb for so long.
Of the few women he'd encountered after Daphne and Mateo's deaths, most of them had been willing to pursue a meaningless dalliance, but none of them had appealed to him in any physical way. The mere idea of having sex with anyone but Daphne had felt wrong; felt like cheating; felt sickening to consider.
Until Hermione...
She'd been the only one since Daphne to make him feel again; desire again; hope again.
And they'd agreed to go slow.
Another hard stroke, thinking about how Hermione had moaned for him every time he'd thrust between her denim-clad thighs.
And then he remembered why he was so close to painting the tiles of his shower wall with his release; the reason they'd stopped the other night, instead of taking it to the bedroom. He remembered how Hermione's shoulders had heaved while she'd gasped for breath, fighting tooth and nail not to get swept away into a maelstrom of anxiety.
He yanked open the cold water tap, groaning and gritting his teeth as he took the icy punishment for the poor control he had over his mind and body.
Slow meant spending time together, getting to know each other without sex getting in the way. It meant opening up and learning to trust each other. If he allowed himself to wank to thoughts of Hermione, even just this once, how would he ever be able to spend time with her in close proximity without wanting to just slip inside and lose himself in her?
If he couldn't control himself without her around, how would he fare with the smell of her enveloping him? Her warm hand in his? Her pouty lips begging to be tasted and her blistering honey eyes promising the sweetest rapture?
Slow...
The time would come when they were both emotionally ready to have sex.
If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he wanted more than just a physical relationship with her. Hermione Granger was the kind of woman you wanted to spend forever with. It would never be enough to have just one night with her. Moreover, she deserved everything from a relationship. She deserved to know how it felt to be treasured. Deserved better than to be fucked against her front door while both of them were drunk, or to be used as material for his spank bank.
After seeing her fear in the stables and seeing her lose her tenuous control over her emotions on her porch the other night, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Hermione had no idea how it felt to be loved with tenderness and care.
Slow...
XXX
Turned out slow was very fucking hard...
Especially when Hermione was busy grilling steaks on a griddle pan on the stove when he arrived.
She was in a sinfully short, flowery little slip of a dress that exposed her shapely legs, accentuated her luscious arse, and displayed a long, graceful neck and heaps of creamy skin, all dotted with beauty spots he yearned to trace with his tongue. Her riot of curls was tied into a messy knot on top of her head, a few stray spirals making their escape down the back and sides of her neck like they too were tempted to touch her silky skin.
At first, she didn't notice him, so he just stood there in the doorway, watching her cook. Her hips were swaying gently from side to side while she hummed a tune under her breath, so softly, that he couldn't quite catch it. But oh God, she looked so beautiful at that moment that his fingers twitched with the desire to touch her.
Hermione Granger was fucking intoxicating.
When she turned around to find him watching her, he counted it as a victory when she didn't startle. Instead, a slow, syrupy smile spread on her mouth, cheeks rosy and honey eyes warm. "What are you doing, Nott?" She quirked a coy brow.
"Oh, nothing," he shrugged casually and approached her slowly. "Just enjoying the view."
That coyness of hers morphed into genuine shyness, her cheeks flushing a deeper pink. She pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on the flesh. But she didn't look away.
"God, you're beautiful." He sighed the words that were stuck on a loop in his brain.
She turned away from him with a breathy laugh and a bashful shake of the head that underscored her insecurities, and he wondered how many times she'd need to hear those exact words to make her believe them. With her eyes studiously trained in front of her, she flipped the steaks over while he stepped up beside her to watch, standing close enough that their arms were touching.
If they were taking it slow and he couldn't run his fingers over that silky skin of hers, he needed something, at least. Some kind of touch.
So, arm against arm it was.
For now...
"There's a lovely red wine breathing on the counter," she announced, her eyes volleying up briefly to meet his, and she tipped her chin to the bottle in question. "Would you mind pouring us a glass? I think the steaks are ready."
XXX
They were sitting side by side on her porch steps, simply enjoying the peaceful evening and the gentle sounds of the wind whispering through the willow tree next to the cottage, fireflies dancing a perfectly choreographed ballet above the pond, when he finally worked up the courage to bring up the delicate topic of dating.
He cleared his throat and rubbed his palms over his thighs nervously. "Do you still want to go on a date with me?" he asked, turning his head to face her, praying that she hadn't changed her mind.
He took a sip of his wine to combat his nerves.
Her dazzling smile in response was enough to ease any doubts he might have had.
"Of course, I still want to." She brought her wine glass to her mouth for a sip, tongue sweeping out over her lips after swallowing.
His eyes zeroed in on her mouth at the innocent action, unable to look anywhere else.
She noticed and bit her lip coyly in that familiar way that made his blood simmer with lust.
He almost growled in response, so turned on by the sight.
Fuck!
Slow, Theo. You have to take it slow.
The chemistry was crackling between them like a live wire, and when his eyes finally flicked away from her mouth and back up to meet her gaze, he found her honey eyes flaming with lust. The memories of this afternoon in the shower flooded his brain: stroking himself while thinking of the way she'd looked today, soaking wet and...
Oh, Salazar...
He was so bloody hard that it hurt.
He tipped the last of his wine into his mouth, hand subtly adjusting the front of his trousers when she wasn't looking, and cleared his throat, "Right," he said and got up, voice sounding rough to his ears. He needed to get away right now before he did something he would regret in the morning. Like, pin her against her front door just as he'd done the other night, kissing a trail down that delicate neck of hers. Ruck up her dress, push her knickers to the side and just...
Shit, shit, shit! He really needed to leave.
"I'll, uh, let my mind go. Think up some ideas for our date, and..." he ruffled his hair awkwardly, "Get back to you as soon as possible."
God...He made it sound like a fucking business deal. What was wrong with him?
"Okay," Hermione nodded, eyes briefly slipping to the zipper of his Levi's, and then back up, smirking deviously at him.
He turned away to hide the obviousness of his desire. "Okay," He echoed her, bobbed his head in a brisk nod and swallowed awkwardly, "Thanks for dinner." And then he hurried down the steps into the dark before he could make an even bigger fool of himself.
"Just keep it simple, Theo," Hermione called out after him.
He closed his eyes for a beat and exhaled his relief with a low sigh. The idea of dating again was intimidating, and he was extremely grateful to Hermione for taking it easy on him.
She wanted something simple.
He was pretty sure he could do that.
XXX
Theo entered the living room after he'd disappeared for a few minutes to answer a call and found Hermione sitting on the floor beside a box full of photos.
It was the box he'd carried down from Mateo's room a few nights ago.
He'd kept all of Daphne and Mateo's treasured possessions and their photos in that room. Kept the door closed. Kept the memories at bay.
Until very recently.
He'd decided that it was time to start going through their things. Deal with the loss of his family and try to move on. So far, he'd managed to separate all their photos, choosing the ones he wanted to keep, and the ones he wanted to give to Astoria.
Unfortunately, he'd forgotten to put it away, and now Hermione was looking through them.
He watched her carefully from where he stood, meeting her blank stare with one of his own. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and chewed on his cheek, feeling awkward.
Hermione broke first, a flush simmering on her cheeks. "Sorry," she said and stashed the photos back in the box. "I shouldn't be snooping like this." She lifted a shoulder to her ear, and hesitantly maintained his gaze. "I just-" She swallowed, flicking her eyes down to the last photo in her hand, rubbing a thumb carefully over the glossy image.
It was a photo of Daphne holding a five-month-old Mateo, his gummy smile aimed at the camera.
"I was curious about them."
Theo pulled a steadying breath in through his nose, and dragged his fingers through his hair, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he wanted to be angry with her for sticking her nose into his business without asking for permission. Daphne and Mateo's photos were all he had left. It felt sacred, somehow. Private. But on the other hand, he'd chosen to open up to her about the tragedy that had been his family's deaths. He'd asked her to come with him when he'd visited their graves, and he sincerely wanted to see if they could make their relationship work, despite their pasts. If he couldn't share everything with her, no matter how hard it was for him to open up, what would the point even be to pursue this fledgling relationship?
So, he summoned all of his courage and made the decision to share.
He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off his tension, taking slow, measured steps across the living room to join Hermione on the floor beside the coffee table. He stretched his arm out, curled his fingers around the edge of the box, and pulled it closer to him. And then, one by one, he took the photos out, showing her the memories from his past, and shared anecdotes with her.
To her credit, Hermione looked at every single photo with reverence and patience and listened to everything he shared with her without uttering a single word.
So, when he crawled into his cold, empty bed later that night, sleeping alone in that huge bed didn't feel as daunting as it had the night before.
He was slowly starting to make peace with his past, and he was hopeful for the new possibilities that came with dating Hermione Granger.
Maybe they could actually do this. Both work through their pasts and take a chance on each other without it ending in disaster.
A/N: As you can see, these two have a lot of things to work through, but the attraction is there. And it's not making the process easy for either of them.
Let me know what you thought about Theo's chapter.
See you soon...