As the Prefect meeting wrapped up the usual air of responsibility gave way to excitement as students discussed the upcoming events. The most anticipated among them was the Halloween Masquerade, set for the night of the 31st. They also discussed the Hogsmeade trip that would take place the weekend before Halloween, a chance for students to shop, relax, and enjoy the fall weather. Granger, though outwardly engaged, didn't seem as animated as the others. She was uncharacteristically quiet.
Theodore hadn't heard much of the meeting, nodding only when he found others doing so. Granger's presence completely filled his senses and he found it difficult to look away. He kept his gaze on her, watching as she jotted down notes from the meeting, fully aware of the ring on her finger
By the time the meeting was over, it was nearing 8:45 PM. The corridors were slowly clearing out, and the Prefects were making their way to their dormitories or respective patrols. Granger walked by his side as they headed towards the fifth-floor corridor, the light of the torches casting shadows along the stone walls. The atmosphere was tense, both noticing the undercurrent of something unspoken between them. Theodore was acutely aware of the silence, of how every step felt weighted, his thoughts crashing against each other violently.
Granger walked beside him, each step measured but slow, as if the weight of the world were pressing down on her small frame. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, her head down, and Theodore noticed the faint tremor in her hands as she twisted the sleeve of her robe. The usual fire in her eyes was gone, replaced by something distant and heavy. Every time he allowed his gaze to fall on her he could feel his heart tighten in his chest, a small, almost painful tug that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second.
He wanted to say something, but every time he tried his throat would tighten and he'd swallow his words. His whole body screamed at him to reach out, to put a hand on her shoulder and close the space between them. He wanted, no heneededto let her know that he was there - but he couldn't bring himself to move. A cold fear gripped his chest, keeping him from acting. His feet moved mechanically, matching her pace, but his mind was a swirling storm, a whirlwind of what-if's, should's, and could be's.
There was a raw ache in his chest. He had thought about this possibility a thousand times - what it would feel like to hold her, to pull her close, to give her comfort. He had imagined it in every possible way: her leaning into him, letting the tension of the world slip away as he held her. He had dreamed of it - but that was impossible. It would be too much, for both of them.
His eyes fell to her hands again, still twisting her sleeve, and his breath caught in his throat. He knew she was tired. He knew she was hurting. He wanted to take that pain from her, to free her of whatever turmoil she was obviously suffering but a cold thought rushed forward, freezing any action he might do. What if she didn't want his touch or his comfort? It wasn't his to give.
He felt a sudden pang in his heart. The ache of being so close to her and yet unable to break through the invisible barrier that seemed to surround her. He wanted, so much, to be her solitude, her safety, but he kept his hands at his side, clenching and unclenching as if they had a mind of their own.
Every step they took felt like a slow crawl, the silence between them seeming to grow louder with each passing second. The torchlight did nothing to ease the heaviness in the air. Theodore brought his eyes up to her face once more. She looked so pale under the dim light, almost fragile, like something that could be easily broken if he wasn't careful. He couldn't stop himself from imagining it again: pulling her into his arms, having her body pressed against his, how beautifully destructive it would be. His stomach twisted with longing, but the fear of crossing that invisible line kept him rooted. He couldn't do it. He couldn't risk having her pull away from him and completely severing the delicate connection they had built.
His hands began to tremble at his sides, the desire to touch her so strong he felt as though it would drive him mad. He wanted to show her that she wasn't alone, that she could trust him and he would do whatever was in his power to chase her demons away…But he couldn't. Hewouldn't. The possibility of rejection - of her pushing him away- kept him still. It felt as though he were caught in a dream where he couldn't move. His body ached with the desire to do something, anything, but his mind continued to remind him that it was not his place.
The longer they walked in their silence, the more desperate his need became. Every inch of his body itched for him to close the distance between them, to offer her everything to help ease her pain… but he held always held back.
The silence between them suddenly felt suffocating and Theodore couldn't help but feel that every passing moment was a stolen opportunity. The burden of the truth, the ring, was pressing down on him so heavily he could hardly breathe.
His heart slammed painfully in his chest and the tension in the air continued to build, crushing him beneath its weight, quelling the words he desperately needed to say. His mind cried out for him to speak, to tell her about the ring, to confess the truth. He had rehearsed it so many times in his head, telling himself it was the right thing to do. She deserved to know. She had a right to know what she was wearing, what it meant and how it could destroy her. Yet, as much as he continued to try and convince himself of this, his fear - that cold, choking fear- kept his words at bay.
The truth would hurt her. He knew that. He knew she would be upset, possibly angry, and he couldn't bear to see her like that. He would lose her and a part of him argued it may be better to keep her in the dark. If she remained unaware, at least he would be able to be near her even if it wasn't in the way he wanted.
From his peripheral he saw Granger stiffen, still fiddling with the sleeve of her robes before she stopped walking and looked up at him, "Theodore?"
Theodore's heart stopped. She said his name, hisfirstname, and it was like music to his ears. He looked down into her wide brown eyes, afraid to move, afraid that if he took a breath the subtle rise of his chest would somehow spook her. She seemed hesitant, then she blinked, shaking her head to gather her thoughts before she returned her gaze back into his own, "I was thinking about the dance… I know that isn't your thing, and you could say no, but I was wondering if you would like to go with me?"
Her words hung in the air between them, her eyes seeking his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. His heart began to race as his breath hitched, caught somewhere between surprise and a profound ache that surged through him.
She wants me to go with her?
The almost unbelievable thought flitted across his mind as his pulse continued to race as though his body had not caught up to the enormity of the question. His hands clenched at his sides, his fists tightening in a futile attempt to ground himself, to stop the small tremor of fear that was slowly building in his core. He wanted to answer quickly, wanted to sayyesand step into this brief fantasy where they were something more than classmates, more than Prefect Partners…
He could do that. Pretend. For one night he could pretend he was more than Theodore Nott, the missing Death Eater's son. He could be Theodore Nott, date of Hermione Granger. He could dance with her, finally feel her body on his. He could make her laugh, make her feel safe…Just for one night.
Granger's hand rose almost reflexively to her right hand, fingers moving to twist the ring she wore around her finger. The subtle motion was impossible to miss and the sight sent a jolt of reality up his spine.
His eyes locked onto the ring as he watched her twist the band a second time, like a nervous tick. The gesture appeared so familiar, almost instinctive for her, but for him it was a sharp reminder of a truth he needed to tell her.
His mind screamed for him to speak, to place his hands on hers and remove her finger from the band…But the words wouldn't come. Despite the pit that opened in his stomach, despite the sickening knowledge of what the ring would do to her, despite how desperately he needed to warn her, he didn't speak on it. The guilt of the truth was overpowered by the possibility of hope.
Without warning the words came out and he heard himself say, "I would like that."
Granger's cheeks went red almost immediately. "I mean," she continued, her voice rushing a little now, as if she had convinced herself it was a silly idea, "it's just that–well, it makes sense, doesn't it? As…As colleagues, of course. We arrive together and leave together when it's time for our patrol." She looked away from him, down the corridor, "I haven't heard from Ron in weeks. I know he's busy with his Auror Training, but with Halloween three weeks away, I couldn't ask him to come. I'm not even sure the Headmistress would allow it, he's not a student here anymore."
The moment Granger had finished speaking, the weight of her explanation settled between them like an impenetrable wall. She had been clear: this was not expected to be a real date, it wasn't a night that meant anything more than Prefect duty. She had asked him because it made sense, because they were already tied to each other by their responsibilities. It was simple. Functional. Logical. Very Granger.
Theodore's stomach sank. The brief burst of joy that had surged through him upon hearing her ask him quickly dissipated, replaced by a familiar pain that seemed to shatter the ground beneath his feet, threatening to swallow him whole. His own words–I would like that–now felt hollow, a fleeting hope that he had foolishly allowed himself to entertain. It was stupid, borderline torturous.
He wanted so much for Granger's request to be something more. The way she looked at him, how her gaze had softened, had filled him with a false sense of possibility. A fleeting moment where his silent wishes began to push themselves into reality. He had dreamed of it for so long, that moment of connection where she would show him some sign of reciprocation. Now, however, as the truth settled around him, his senses cracked under the realization of how foolish he had been.
What had he done?
The truth hit him like a slap, the weight of his own selfishness pressing down on him making it difficult to concentrate. He had agreed to go with her, pushed away the danger he knew she was in for one brief moment of happiness. He wanted so much to live in the fantasy that had played itself numerous times in his mind, to be the one who stood beside her, not out of duty, but as her companion. He had let himself be swept up in the moment, allowing his desire formoreblind him to the bitter reality that stood between them. He tried, and failed, to shake the feeling he had just made a terrible mistake.
He wanted this more than he should have.
A knot formed in his stomach as his gaze drifted once again to her hand, the ring glinting in the torchlight. The familiar twisting motion of her fingers around the ring made his heart ache. The token gifted – no, forced – upon her by Ronald Weasley. And though he knew the dangers the ring and its enchantment held, it also served as a constant reminder of the one thing he could never be: the man who had her heart.
The jealousy that began to rise in his chest was potent. He wanted to tear that ring off her finger, throw it to the ground and tell her she deserved more. He wanted to scream that she was worth far more than the promise she was unwillingly aware was being forced upon her. The ring was more than a simple piece of jewelry, the magic was binding her to the Weasel in a way that could never be undone, not without permission from Ronald himself. She wouldn't be able to remove it - if her heart didn't stop her, the enchantment would. The ring would cling to her skin, unmovable. There was no escape, it was a part of her now, and that fact made Theodore's guilt sharper, more painful.
The ring also served as a reminder of his own inadequacies. He wasn't Ronald Weasley. He would never be Ronald Weasley. As much as he might fantasize about what it would be like to hold her, to dance with her, to be more than a duty she was charged to watch over, the reality was that he wasn't the one she wanted. She had already given her heart away, and no matter what he did, he would never be able to claim it. Even with the truth.
Still, as much as his own heart cried out in agony, as much as his jealousy gnawed at him, there was another, darker, part of him that couldn't be silenced…What if?
What if he kept this illusion alive just a little longer? What if he allowed his fantasy to play out, just for that one night, where he could be someone that actuallymeantsomething to her? What if he gifted himself the memories of having what little comfort he could receive from her presence, even if it was a lie?
The selfishness within him began to grow, pushing aside the guilt that had initially kept him in check. He had promised himself that he would tell her the truth, that he would confess the burden of knowing the true power of her ring. He told himself that he would come clean about his fears for her future and her happiness. He knew he shouldn't keep this knowledge from her, but now all he could think about was how much he wanted this… How much he wantedher.
He wasn't ready to face the consequences of telling her the truth. Not now. Not when he was so close to having even a moment of what he had dreamed about. He wasn't ready to face her anger, her confusion, the way she would undoubtedly pull away from him. He wasn't ready to see the look in her eyes when she realized he had known about this and didn't tell her. The guilt of keeping this from her would be unbearable, but the thought of losing her completely…that was worse. Far worse.
So, instead of confronting the truth, he let his desires win.
"Of course," Theodore managed, bringing Granger's attention back to him. "But perhaps…" He hesitated and he saw a flash of worry cross Granger's eyes. He cleared his throat, gathering all the courage he could find, "Perhaps we could go as…friends?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Theodore regretted them. He felt it before the thought could even register, the taste of ash in his mouth. His hope was weak. Pathetic. But he had spoken them, the proposal hanging in the air between them. He could curse himself for it, for not letting things just be.
Granger blinked at him, her eyes searching his face, a flicker of - something - passing through her expression. Her lips parted as if to speak, but for a moment, she seemed caught, unsure of what to make of his words. He could see the hesitation in her, the way her shoulders tensed before she forced her posture to relax, as though she were trying to shake off her sudden discomfort.
"Friends?" Her voice was soft, almost uncertain. She bit her bottom lip, as though she were weighing the thought, "Yeah, I'd like that. Friends."
Granger placed her left hand on his shoulder, a small gesture, as if to assure both of them this was the right thing to do. Her hand was both warm and gentle and for a brief, fleeting moment, the touch felt almostright. It was small, almost inconsequential, but to Theodore, it felt as though everything was falling into place. His breath hitched slightly as a jolt of something he couldn't quite place rushed through him – something between hope and desperation.
His body went stiff under her fingers, a reflex to the sudden intimacy, but he couldn't deny the part of him that begged him to lean into it. He wanted to feel her warmth against him, to close the distance and make this moment last just a little longer. He fought the urge to react; fought the urge to pull back - or worse - pull her closer.
He deserved this, didn't he? After everything, after all the pain, the loneliness… hadn't he earned this small moment of comfort? His mind whispered a truth that he kept buried deep within, something he refused to acknowledge until now: he deserved more than just being a shadow in her life. He had wanted this, waited for this. Why shouldn't he let himself feel a little solace, even if it was brief and fragile?
She smiled, her eyes soft, and for a moment he thought she might say something more, something that would solidify this and make it real… Instead, she turned away, continuing down the hall, her posture shifting back into something more familiar, more guarded. He followed her, each step feeling heavier than the last, his thoughts swirling into a blur of confusion and longing.
Friends.
It felt more like a consolation prize, ringing hollow against the backdrop of his deeper desires.
It wasn't enough; it could never be enough. Still, it was something–something he could cling to while burying the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. He deserved this small piece of happiness, didn't he?
The room was still, save for the occasional flicker of candlelight as the flame danced, casting spectral shadows against the wooden walls. The floor was cold beneath the man's boots and the air carried the faintest scent of damp earth, as though the wood itself was weeping.
He stood, motionless, facing the tall arched window that framed the desolate landscape outside. A thunderstorm had rolled in hours ago, and the distant rumble of the storm seemed to vibrate through his bones - as if trying to warn him.
HIs fingers moved slowly, deliberately, tracing the edges of the map that lay spread out on the table before him. The parchment was worn, corners curled from age, edges stained with blotches of ink and the faint mark of spilled potions. The map was an old one, one that had passed through many hands - details added from each individual who touched it.
And now it was his to command.
The inked lines seemed to pulse, a secret language of movement and intent. Each mark on the map represented a potential ally, a target, a piece of the puzzle.
His hand hovered over a small, inconspicuous mark - a circle drawn in red ink, placed just under the shadow of a mountain range. It had taken months to gather this information. Months of watching, waiting, listening. He would not fail.
A single piece remained missing – an unpredictable force, a wild card. A person who could undo it all…but he couldn't focus on that. Not yet. The plan was too delicate. Too intricate. The pieces needed to fall into place before that could happen.
The flickering candlelight continued to be the only thing that moved in the room as he contemplated the way forward. His eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. The timing had to be perfect. The path must be prepared, smooth and unobstructed. Only then would he strike.
His fingers brushed the edge of the phial that rested beside the map, its pale, silver liquid glimmering faintly in the dim light. The object was beautiful in its understated simplicity…but its beauty masked its true power. It could unravel everything, he knew that, and it was dangerous. It required the right hands, the right circumstances to be used efficiently. It wasn't a weapon to be wielded lightly.
His thoughts turned to the ritual. The ancient magic that ran through the phial was not to be underestimated. It would take everything, he wasn't careful, it would consume him as it had consumed others before him. He needed to be prepared for the toll it would take on him, his body, his mind and his soul. The price was high, but the reward was beyond measure.
The man moved away from the table, walking slowly toward the dark fireplace that sat cold and empty in the corner of the room. His fingers brushed against the stone mantle as he stared into the shadows beyond. There were things to do. People to move. Pieces to manipulate. The time for subtlety would be over soon enough. The next phase of the plan required more direct action.
Not yet.
He reached for a small leather-bound book that rested on the mantelpiece. The book was old, pages yellowed, its cover worn smooth from years of handling. His journal, a record of the steps he had taken, the sacrifices he had made and the power he would soon amass. He flipped to a blank page, his quill already in hand, the ink spilling onto the paper with careful strokes.
He wrote the names of those who were still to be contacted. He had lost the majority of his allies after The Battle of Hogwarts, but there were many others who held their loyalty still. He wrote the names of those who could still be swayed. There were many players in this game, not all were trustworthy but had uses he could manipulate to his advantage.
His quill stopped mid-word as he felt the familiar chill of magic ripple through the room. He was not alone. Physically, he was the only man in the room… He was being observed. The quiet hum of dark magic lingered in the corners of the room as something - someone- waited and watched. He tried to ignore the sensation as he released a cold exhale and returned to his writing.
The plan had to unfold in stages. Each step leading to the next. He had to be careful. Precise.
He moved to take a seat at the table, setting his journal on the wood surface and leaning into the chair as he closed his eyes. Everything hinged on timing. Every action, every decision, would either lead to victory or death.
There would be no second chances.