Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story
Pairing: Theo N/Hermione G
All Over You
"... I've got to feel you in my bones again,
I'm all over you; I'm not over you …"
June 1999
Meet me, please.
You know the place.
— T
Hermione stared at the words, reading them thrice over as the edges wrinkled where she gripped the tiny slip of parchment tightly. This was the sixth note in the last year, nearly always the same in that familiar, slanted scrawl; she'd ignored each one.
So why does this time feel different?
She scrubbed a hand across her face, crumpling the paper and tossing it aside as memories began swirling at the forefront of her mind.
"Oh, stop it!" She scolded with a grin, pushing against his chest in an attempt to halt his merciless teasing.
His fingers continued their poking and prodding, tickling her stomach and arms until she was pleading he stop, pained laughter falling from her mouth.
Hermione, like so very often, had tucked herself away in a small alcove in the library, and she wasn't alone.
Theo Nott - yes, Slytherin - had sparked her interest sometime fifth year, and after a few awkward encounters and wayward glances, they'd begun studying together on the low. Their mutual love for books, they'd learn, was just one of the few attributes that drew them together.
He stopped his silly torture, catching her eye momentarily before leaning in to capture her lips against his own. His mouth was always so soft - gentle - yet dominating as he lead their tongues in a secret dance.
Hermione sniffled, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. They'd spent countless moments together, her and Theodore, and her heart ached at the memory of his smell, touch, of him.
They'd parted ways - they had to - in the midst of what would have been her seventh year. She was on the run, an undesirable, and he was the son of a Death Eater, tucked away at Hogwarts.
His father, though he had no idea who she was to his son, had tried to kill her and her friends on more than one occasion.
It could never have worked...
That's what Hermione told him all those months ago, and she would never forget the way he'd pleaded his case, eyes swimming with emotion, begging her to stay.
Stay.
He had cried - actually cried - and for a moment she was tempted, swayed to run away with him just like he'd offered. But she couldn't, not then.
It could never have worked…
But here she sat, eyes locked on the discarded parchment, mind screaming for her to give him a chance. She'd tucked away any and all feelings towards the man, throwing away the key and thinking never to return again.
Hermione wasn't even quite sure what she was hiding from anymore. The war was long over, Voldemort's regime disbanded, his servants jailed away. Wizarding Britain was at peace.
Shouldn't she be?
Standing on shaky legs, she moved away from her desk to eye herself in a nearby mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing the mane of curls and prepped her mind for the outcome of either the best, or worst decision she could possibly make in that moment.
Hermione took a deep, calming breath before closing her eyes and spinning into darkness.
