Sera sat on the edge of the hospital bed in St. Mungo's, the sterile white sheets rustling as she shifted uncomfortably. The antiseptic tang of the air made her nose wrinkle, and the soft hum of healing spells in the distance pulsed through her head. Theo was beside her, as he had been since they arrived, a silent presence that was both a comfort and a source of unbearable tension.

The healers had left moments ago, and the echo of the closing door lingered in the air. Sera traced the edge of the scratchy hospital blanket with her fingertips, avoiding Theo's gaze, feeling her heart beat erratically in her chest. The truth she'd kept locked away for so long was finally out, and she felt exposed, raw, as if the bandages around her soul had been torn away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely breaking the silence. Her throat felt tight, and she swallowed, forcing herself to meet Theo's eyes. He watched her with that familiar analytical expression, but beneath the calm facade, she could see the flicker of pain and confusion she had caused. "I know I should have told you sooner. I was a hypocrite, preaching about wanting change and equality, all the while keeping this—" she gestured helplessly, "—hidden. I understand if you don't want to be with me anymore."

Her words hung between them, and the emotional armor she wore cracked, leaving her vulnerable. For so long, she had fought to carve out a place in a world that had never fully accepted her, that had looked down on her for being a Squib. Admitting the truth felt like surrendering every battle she had fought. She was terrified, not of Theo's rejection, but of how much she wanted his acceptance.

Theo was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered her. The analytical part of him, the side that always seemed to weigh every word and action, made her pulse quicken with dread. But then his expression softened, and he let out a quiet breath.

"Sera," he said, his voice low and rough around the edges. He moved closer, closing the gap between them. "My feelings for you haven't changed." His hand reached for hers, and she felt the warmth of his touch, the solid, steady comfort of it. "You are still the same stubborn, fierce, and clever person I've fallen for. The truth doesn't make you less; it makes you more."

Her eyes widened, tears stinging the corners. She hadn't expected his acceptance, hadn't dared to hope for it. But here he was, promising to stand by her, not out of pity but out of something real and genuine.

He gave her a small, almost wry smile, the corners of his mouth curving up. "You've always fought for change, and you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing for not seeing it sooner." His grip tightened on her hand, and he added, "I'm with you, Sera. In this fight and everything else."

Sera's defenses crumbled, and she let herself feel the vulnerability of the moment, the small, precious hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as alone as she'd always believed. Theo was here, and despite everything, he was choosing her. She nodded, her voice steady despite the tears slipping down her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered, knowing that, for the first time in a long while, she didn't have to bear the weight of the world alone.

-x-

Theo stood in the small, sunlit corner of Sera's flat, his back pressed against the windowsill as he watched her move about. The light streamed through the dusty panes, casting golden highlights in her hair. She was a flurry of activity, stacking books, tidying papers, doing everything she could to fill the silence that lingered between them, now stripped of any threat or fear. He observed her with the same quiet, analytical gaze he always had, but today, his eyes softened at the sight.

It was strange, this sensation—being here with her, talking about the future. Theo had grown so accustomed to the ever-present shadow of his family's expectations, the traditions that had loomed large over his life, that it felt almost surreal to stand on the precipice of something new. Something his father would have sneered at. The thought of Lycurgus Nott's contempt used to feel like a curse. Now, it carried only a faint sting, a reminder that he'd made his choice.

He couldn't help but smirk at himself, the cynic in him refusing to be silenced. Here he was, Theodore Nott, weighing domestic contentment and genuine affection against decades of family pride and old-world beliefs. If the portrait of his late mother at Nott Manor could have moved, she'd probably be laughing—or maybe she'd be pleased. Theo didn't know, but the thought made the long-frozen ache in his chest shift slightly.

Sera set down a heavy book with a triumphant huff, her expression brightening as she turned to face him. Her flat was modest, filled with Muggle conveniences he barely understood. It was nothing like the cold, grand halls of Nott Manor, and yet, it felt far more alive. He was beginning to appreciate the clutter, the noise, the sense of warmth that had always eluded him.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked, her brow lifting in curiosity.

He shrugged, his lips quirking into a smile he hadn't worn much in his old life. "Just the irony," he drawled, his voice carrying its usual touch of wryness. "I used to think I'd spend my whole life trying to live up to my family's expectations. Marry a 'proper' pure-blood, uphold every tradition, and continue the esteemed Nott legacy. Now, here I am, contemplating how to properly install a Muggle microwave." He gestured at the contraption in the corner, looking at it as if it might sprout legs and run.

Sera snorted, her laughter filling the small space, and Theo felt his heart swell, a warmth spreading through the cracks he'd refused to acknowledge for so long. It was disconcerting, but it wasn't unwelcome. He had always held the world at a distance, his sharp intelligence and self-protective cynicism acting as a shield. But with Sera, the lines blurred, and he wasn't so afraid of being vulnerable anymore.

Her laughter faded, and she looked at him, her gaze steady and bright. "Are you really okay with all of this?" she asked, her voice carrying a note vulnerability she rarely let show. "With… us? With what it means?"

Theo's smile softened. "I've chosen," he said simply, his voice free of hesitation. "I chose you. And I'd do it again, consequences be damned."

For a moment, they were both silent, and he saw the way her eyes shimmered, the way her armor cracked just a little more, revealing the resilient, hopeful heart underneath. His own defenses—so intricately constructed over years of loneliness and betrayal—seemed to melt in that shared gaze.

But even as he held onto this newfound confidence, the shadows of the past were never far behind. His father's sins, the legacy of a pure-blood supremacist family, and the whispers of Death Eater sympathizers were specters he knew he and Sera would continue to face. L

Theo stepped forward, closing the space between them. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering. "We'll blend our worlds," he murmured, "in whatever way works for us. Tradition doesn't have to mean living in a cage. And I'm not giving up on this—on us—no matter what."

Sera's smile was small but radiant, and she reached up to lace her fingers through his, holding on tightly. "Together, then," she said, her voice firm with determination, echoing the vow between them.

"Together," he repeated, the word feeling like a promise, an anchor against the storm of uncertainties.

And in that quiet, sunlit moment, Theo allowed himself to believe that even with shadows looming, even with a past that refused to let go, they might carve out a future on their own terms. A future where he didn't have to sacrifice happiness for honor, and where love was more than a liability—it was a strength.