Theo arrived at the crumbling building with his wand drawn and his heart pounding in his chest, though he'd never admit the fear that coursed through him. Fear was weakness, and weakness was something he'd spent years trying to purge from his blood. Yet, here he was, nerves raw and tension coiling through every muscle as he stalked through the darkened hallways. The echoes of hushed voices and footsteps rippled through the corridors, and Theo's sharp eyes picked out every detail: the splintered wood, the glint of torchlight, the slight mustiness that clung to the air.

He took in everything, assessing the situation with the cold calculation he had honed over years of surviving in a world built on power and deceit. His mind raced with possibilities, plans unraveling in seconds. He had always been like this, thinking ten steps ahead, an instinct honed out of necessity from living under his father's shadow. The sins of the Nott family were etched into the very marrow of his bones, a legacy he both loathed and felt trapped by.

But now, this was about Sera. The thought of her in danger made his blood boil, and he struggled to ignore the vulnerability creeping into his heart. He was furious—not just at her captors, but at himself, for caring so deeply.

He crept forward, his footsteps nearly soundless, until he found the scene he'd been dreading. Sera was bound to a chair, her face pale but her dark eyes full of fire. Barton Carrow stood over her, wand aimed at her chest, his twisted smile a mask of pure malevolence. Theo's stomach clenched at the sight of her pain, but he forced himself to remain steady. If he gave into rage now, he would lose his advantage.

"Well, well," Barton drawled, his attention shifting to Theo as he stepped into the torchlight. "Theodore Nott, come to join the fun? I wasn't expecting a family reunion." His eyes glinted, and Theo knew that Barton believed himself untouchable.

Theo's lips twisted into a humorless smirk, masking the burning hatred and panic that simmered beneath. "Barton," he said smoothly, his voice a blade, "I wasn't aware you were so desperate for company. Kidnapping, really? How… quaint."

Barton sneered. "You don't understand, Nott. We're purifying our world, starting with these Squib abominations. We're—"

"Sera is no abomination," Theo cut in, stepping forward, his wand steady but his insides roiling.

"Is that so?" Barton mused, twisting to face Sera. "Do you know, Theo, that your precious Sera here is nothing but a Squib herself? No magic. Just a pretty little fraud."

The words punched the air from Theo's lungs. A Squib. Sera was a Squib. His carefully constructed world tilted on its axis, and for a second, he couldn't breathe. It was as if someone had reached into his chest and twisted. His mind spun, grappling with betrayal and confusion. She hadn't told him, hadn't trusted him enough to share. It stung, more deeply than he wanted to acknowledge.

The absurdity of it struck him like a curse: his world was breaking apart, everything he thought he knew cracking, and yet… he cared for her. Loved her, even.

Theo looked at Sera. Her eyes met his, wide with fear, vulnerability, and a quiet defiance that dared him to hate her. And suddenly, none of it mattered. His father's voice, his family's legacy, the ideology that had been drilled into him since birth—it all seemed so irrelevant in the face of what he felt for her. Because she was still Sera, still the fierce, clever woman who had challenged and captivated him. And he couldn't let her die.

Theo forced himself to compartmentalize, shoving his emotions into the corners of his mind. He stepped forward, his wand aimed at Barton's throat. "If you think I'm going to let you harm her," he said, his voice deathly calm, "then you've forgotten who I am."

Barton's smile faltered. Theo struck. A silent spell whipped from his wand, disarming Barton and sending him sprawling backward. Sera gasped as the ropes binding her vanished. But before she could move, another of Barton's allies grabbed her, a wand pressed against her neck.

"Stay back!" the man barked, his voice trembling.

Theo's grip on his wand tightened, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep his expression cold and composed, even though his insides were unraveling. His mind raced, desperately searching for a way to end this without Sera getting hurt. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to act, but he knew one wrong move could mean disaster.

Sera's voice broke through his storm of thoughts, a desperate, breathless whisper. "I'm sorry," she choked out, her eyes wide with terror and shame. "I'm so, so sorry." Her words tumbled over each other, raw and frantic, as if she thought this was the end. "I should have told you. I never wanted this. I'm sorry, Theo."

Theo's heart twisted painfully, hearing the guilt in her voice. Even as she faced the worst kind of danger, she was apologizing to him. For what? For being who she was? For not fitting into the world he had grown up in, the world he was beginning to despise more with each passing second?

He swallowed hard, his voice coming out hoarse. "Sera—"

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, tears streaming down her cheeks, and the vulnerability in her voice shattered something inside him. She was breaking, and he couldn't bear it.

But before he could respond, before he could do anything more than take a faltering step toward her, a sudden commotion erupted behind him. The room exploded with noise and movement as Aurors burst in, wands blazing and spells firing like streaks of light. At the forefront was Harry Potter himself, his green eyes fierce and unyielding.

Barton and his allies were quickly overpowered, their wands torn from their hands as they were forced to the ground. The man holding Sera was wrenched away, leaving her stumbling forward, finally free.

Theo moved instantly, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. He caught her as she stumbled, pulling her into his arms, and she collapsed against him, her small frame shaking with silent sobs. He held her tightly, pressing his face into her hair, his own heart thundering with a mix of relief, rage, and something impossibly tender.

Sera clung to him, her fingers twisting in his robes, and he whispered, "You have nothing to be sorry for." His voice cracked, and he realized that in this moment, with her safe in his arms, the rest of the world no longer mattered.

Harry approached, his face lined with worry and determination. "You both all right?" he asked, his eyes flickering between them.

Theo nodded, though he knew it wasn't entirely true. Nothing felt right, not anymore. But as he looked at Sera, bruised but unbroken, he knew one thing with startling clarity: whatever came next, he wouldn't let her face it alone. Even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of himself.