The sprawling library of Nott Manor was an architectural wonder in itself. The room was a cavernous space lined with towering shelves that seemed to stretch toward infinity. Sera had never seen so many books in one place. The scent of aged parchment and polished mahogany filled the air, a subtle reminder of old magic and older legacies. She felt small, almost insignificant, in the shadow of so much history, but she refused to let that show.
Theo lingered nearby, his gaze quietly studying her. Sera pretended not to notice. She could feel the weight of his attention, though, like a faint, persistent warmth that made her uncomfortably aware of how easily she could lose her balance here—not just in the physical sense, but in her emotional armor, too.
She ran her fingers along a row of dusty spines, her touch light but reverent. Her hand stilled on a book titled The History of Magic in Bhutan, its cover adorned with intricate, curling patterns. Sera pulled it from the shelf, the book heavy in her grasp, and flipped through the pages, soaking in the detailed illustrations of ethereal mountain temples and tales of the ancient wizards who had first practiced magic there.
"You're welcome to borrow it," Theo said, his voice breaking the heavy quiet. He'd drawn closer, and she could sense his nearness, the unspoken tension lingering between them.
Sera hesitated, the offer sinking in. Borrowing a book from Nott Manor felt like accepting an invitation into a world she didn't quite belong to—a world she had always been kept at the edges of, like an outsider watching through frosted glass. But the lure of knowledge was powerful, and she had never been one to shy away from what intrigued her. Still, her independent streak rebelled. She wasn't the sort of person who needed to be given things. She earned what she took.
She met Theo's eyes, her expression guarded but tinged with something softer, something more vulnerable than she wanted to admit. "Thank you. That's kind of you," she replied blushing when she noticed how close he was standing to her. She could make out the scent of basil and orange tree - though she couldn't quite pin the second scent, neroli perhaps.
Theo's lips quirked in a faint smile. "Consider it a temporary truce between a book lover and a stubborn skeptic."
Sera huffed a quiet laugh, though it felt brittle, almost fragile. "You think you know me well, don't you?"
His eyes held hers, his calm facade seemed to waver. "I'm trying to," he admitted. There was a sincerity in his voice, a note of vulnerability she recognized because she carried the same one, buried deep, shielded behind sarcasm and deflection.
She looked away, feeling an unwelcome tightness in her chest. The emotional armor she had carefully crafted over the years—a defense born of being a Squib in a world that worshipped magic—seemed to crack, just a little.
But here, in this grand library filled with stories and secrets, she almost wanted to let herself feel something other than defiance and fear. Almost.
"I think that maybe I'd like to get to know you better," she said finally, her fingers tightening around the book's spine.
Theo's smile widened and he gently brushed a hand over hers. "I'm glad we're on the same page."
Sera's gaze drifted over the walls of the library until she found herself staring at a painting tucked into a corner, nearly lost among the more prominent portraits of stern-faced ancestors. The woman in the portrait was beautiful, with soft, sorrowful eyes that seemed to hold a world of sadness. The image was haunting, and Sera couldn't help but feel an unspoken heaviness hanging in the air.
She glanced at Theo, noticing how his expression had subtly shifted. His jaw was set, and there was a distant, almost haunted look in his eyes. "Who is she?" she asked, her voice gentle, not wanting to disturb whatever memories lingered there.
Theo's smile faded. "That's my mother," he said quietly. "Selene Nott. She… she passed away when I was young. She was unwell for a long time." He hesitated, his fingers flexing in an unconscious gesture of discomfort. "The portrait never awakened. I suppose some part of her magic left long before she did."
Sera's heart twisted at the pain she heard beneath his calm words. Theo's aloof, analytical demeanor cracked just enough for her to glimpse the grief and isolation he carried. She didn't know how to respond to that kind of loss, only that it felt achingly familiar in a way that made her throat tighten.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, meaning it. "Losing someone like that… it never leaves you."
He turned his head, studying her with a newfound openness, as if realizing that she, too, understood something about grief. "My father," he added, the reluctance evident in his voice, "is in Azkaban. For… well, the reasons you probably suspect."
Sera nodded, absorbing the weight of his words. There was so much Theo wasn't saying, layers of history and trauma that went unspoken, but she respected his silence. She knew what it was to guard pain as if it were a secret too fragile to share.
"I lost my parents, too," she offered, her voice barely above a whisper. "They died in a spell experiment gone wrong. It was reckless and… and stupid." The vulnerability in her voice surprised even her. "They loved magic more than they loved anything else, I think, and that included me."
Theo's eyes softened, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The library, with all its grandeur and silence, seemed to pull them into a bubble of shared understanding, a space where their respective griefs intertwined.
Before she could second-guess herself, Sera found herself leaning forward, drawn to the warmth and understanding she saw in Theo's eyes. And he leaned in, too, as if drawn by the same magnetic force. Their faces were mere inches apart, and her heart pounded in her chest, echoing in her ears.
Without thinking, she closed the distance, her lips brushing his in a tentative, searching kiss. It was soft, hesitant, but filled with an unexpected heat that made her breath catch. Theo's hand moved to cup her cheek, his touch gentle but sure, and for a brief, breathtaking moment, the pain they both carried seemed to melt away.
When they pulled back, Sera's cheeks were flushed, her pulse racing. She searched his eyes, looking for regret or hesitation, but instead found a tenderness she hadn't expected.
Theo smiled, his thumb tracing a light path along her jaw. "I didn't see that coming," he murmured, his voice low and almost teasing.
Sera let out a shaky laugh, her defenses cracking even further. "Neither did I," she admitted, her voice barely steady. But here, in this library filled with the ghosts of their pasts, the unexpected connection between them felt right, even if just for that moment.
And for once, she allowed herself to believe that vulnerability didn't have to be a weakness.