Theo stood by the window, watching the soft, pale snowflakes drift lazily past the glass. London looked almost peaceful under its fresh, white blanket, the chaos and noise momentarily muffled. He'd always found something oddly comforting in the stillness of snowfall, as if even the darkest things could be temporarily cloaked in light. But he didn't let the thought linger, knowing all too well that light could be deceptive.
He glanced over his shoulder, where Sera was fiddling with the ribbon of a present she had just unwrapped, her smile bright and genuine. It was rare to see her so relaxed, and Theo felt something unfamiliar, warm and aching, bloom in his chest. The sharp part of his mind that cataloged risks and weaknesses warned him not to dwell on the feeling. Attachment was dangerous. But here, in the quiet of her Muggle flat, he couldn't quite bring himself to listen to the cold logic.
"Thoughts, Nott?" Sera asked, catching him watching her. She raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips.
"Just wondering how you managed to drag me into a Muggle Christmas," he replied, wryly. "I'm starting to think I've been tricked."
She laughed, a sound that felt like a ward against the shadows that lived in the corners of his mind. "Consider it a cultural exchange," she said, nudging his shoulder as he moved to sit beside her on the floor. "Besides, you're not half as miserable as you pretend to be."
Theo rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. "Debatable," he muttered, though he didn't pull away when she leaned her head against his shoulder.
The pile of gifts between them was modest but meaningful. Sera reached for one, her eyes softening as she handed it to him. "Open yours," she said, suddenly looking shy.
Theo's fingers brushed the wrapping paper, his curiosity tempered by the habit of guarding his expectations. He had grown up in a house where gifts were more about obligation and appearance than thoughtfulness. But when he pulled away the paper and opened the small box, his breath caught.
Inside was a delicate silver locket. He carefully unclasped it, and the locket opened to reveal two tiny portraits. On the left was a painting of his mother, Selene Nott, her serene expression captured with a quiet beauty that nearly undid him. It was a likeness he hadn't seen in years, and he felt a pang deep in his chest, a longing that never quite went away.
On the right was a photograph, charmed to move. It showed him and Sera on that day in Knockturn Alley, the moment when he had caught her, her hands clutching his arms, and his eyes wide with something he hadn't been ready to name. The Daily Prophet had printed the image, but Sera had found a way to transform it into something personal and precious.
Theo swallowed, his throat tight. "You… did this?" he asked, his voice quieter than he'd intended. The portrait of his mother felt like a window to a past he was always chasing but never quite able to reach. And the photo of him and Sera felt like a glimpse of a future he'd never dared to imagine.
Sera shifted, her fingers twisting in her lap. "I know you don't talk much about her," she said, her voice soft but steady. "But I thought you might like to have her with you. And, well… I wanted you to know that there are moments worth holding onto, even if they're complicated."
Theo closed the locket gently, his hands trembling ever so slightly. For a moment, he couldn't speak. It was more than a gift; it was an offering of understanding, an acknowledgment of his fractured history and his fragile hopes. "Thank you," he finally said, his voice rough around the edges. The words felt inadequate, but he hoped she knew how deeply he meant them.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own gift for her, trying not to overthink it. "Your turn," he said, his usual sarcasm absent. The vulnerability he felt was something he couldn't hide, and he didn't even try.
Sera's eyes lit up as she unwrapped the gift. Inside was a beautifully bound journal, enchanted to hold any notes or sketches she made without running out of pages. But it was more than that. He had charmed it so that whenever she wrote, the ink would never smudge, and the cover would warm in her hands, a small comfort he knew she'd appreciate.
"I know how you love keeping records of everything," Theo said, his lips curving into a small, self-deprecating smile. "And I figured you deserved a place where your thoughts won't get lost, even if it's just for yourself."
Sera's expression softened, and she reached for his hand, her touch grounding him in the present. "It's perfect," she whispered, and for a moment, Theo let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he deserved this.
The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the heating. Outside, the snow continued to fall, and for the first time in years, Theo felt like he belonged somewhere, even if only in this small, imperfect moment.
Theo found himself lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing the delicate etching on the locket. Six weeks. Six weeks of stolen glances, whispered jokes, and late nights that had felt impossibly real. It was a miracle, he supposed, that happiness could unfold in such subtle ways, breaking through the walls he'd spent a lifetime constructing.
He thought of the mornings when Sera would drag him out of bed, laughing at his groggy protests, only to insist they try some new Muggle breakfast she'd whipped up. Her kitchen would be a chaos of flour and spilled coffee, but the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her presence—it was worth every burned pancake. She'd beam at him, her joy radiant, and he'd find himself thinking that perhaps the world wasn't entirely broken.
Then there were their late-night walks, bundled in layers of scarves and coats, the cold air nipping at their cheeks. They'd wander through the quiet streets, Sera pointing out Muggle Christmas lights, marveling at the way they transformed the darkness into something beautiful. Theo had made sarcastic comments about the gaudy displays, but secretly he'd been entranced, not by the lights, but by the way Sera's eyes sparkled with wonder.
Their dates had ranged from simple dinners at her flat to exploring Diagon Alley's hidden corners, where Sera would drag him into quaint shops he'd never noticed before. They'd get lost in dusty bookstores, Sera's eyes lighting up whenever she discovered a treasure among the old tomes. Theo had found himself enjoying it more than he'd admit, savoring the way her enthusiasm softened the sharp edges of the world.
But the best moments, the ones that stayed with him, were the quiet ones. Reading together, her head resting against his shoulder, or sharing secrets under the cover of darkness. Sera had a way of making him feel seen, even in the silence. She unraveled the knots inside him with a gentle patience he'd never known he needed.
Yet for every moment of joy, Theo felt the weight of his own vulnerability. Happiness was a foreign thing, and he found himself constantly bracing for the fall, for the inevitable shattering of this fragile peace. So when the news came, Theo wasn't necessarily surprised.
Theo's blood ran cold as he held his wand tightly, Harry's voice echoing in his ears. "Kidnapped," the word felt like a curse, a vicious hex tearing through the thin veneer of calm he'd managed to hold onto. He didn't think; he couldn't afford to. The world around him blurred, his mind already racing through strategies, contacts, and the countless enemies they had been trying to root out.
Harry's tone had been tense, edged with urgency Theo had never heard from the famed Auror before. "We don't have much time. The kidnappers left a warning—something about sending a message to those who 'betray their bloodline.'"
Theo barely registered Harry's words as he Apparated to the Ministry. The thought of Sera in danger, hurt, or terrified, clawed at his insides like a living nightmare. He forced himself to breathe, to think logically, though every instinct in him was shouting to act, to find her immediately. The fear gripping his heart was visceral, raw in a way that he couldn't ignore, couldn't mask with cynicism or icy detachment.
Harry met him just outside the Auror office, looking harried, his glasses slightly askew. "We've narrowed down a few locations," he said, shoving a map into Theo's hands. "It's likely someone from the Carrow circle, but we need to move fast."
Theo's hand tightened around the parchment, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. "We'll find her," he said, the conviction in his voice startling even himself. There was no room for doubt, no space for failure. Losing Sera wasn't an option. She had become a part of him, a light he never thought he'd find, and he would tear the world apart to bring her back.
Harry studied Theo's expression, a flicker of something like understanding passing across his face. "We have teams assembling. But you know her better than any of us—where would they take her? Where would she be vulnerable?"
Theo forced himself to think past the terror gripping him, focusing on every clue, every scrap of information he had gathered. The Carrows were cruel but methodical. They thrived on fear, on targeting the most vulnerable aspects of a person. And Sera, a Squib in a world that constantly reminded her of her limitations, had always carried an unspoken vulnerability.
He swallowed hard, pushing away the guilt that surfaced at the thought of his own bloodline being the reason she was in danger. "Somewhere isolated," he finally said, voice steady but hollow. "Somewhere they can send a message, somewhere symbolic. I've… I've heard whispers about an abandoned manor just outside Wiltshire. One of the Carrows mentioned using it for 'less savory business.'"
Harry didn't hesitate. "Then that's where we'll start." He clapped a hand on Theo's shoulder, a rare gesture of solidarity. "We'll get her back."
Theo nodded, his heart pounding as he prepared himself for what was to come. Because no matter the cost, no matter the darkness he had to face, he would find Sera. And he would bring her home.