protective theodore nott

“You’d have better luck with the tipsy blonde by the door,” she jutted her chin that way. A petite blonde that had obviously had one drink too many swayed softly by the door – flashing pouty lips in Theo’s direction. “Maybe,” Theo crooned, mixing a long island. “But I want you. Come on, beautiful, stop fighting it. I see the way your body responds to me. But I’m a patient man – I can wait,” he added, seeing the retort on her tongue. “It can be fun, no strings attached. Or bring the bloody strings, Hermione. I think you’ll find I’m the open for anything sort.” “You make it really hard to tell you no, Theo,” she laughed, thinking about the reason why she always told him no. “Is that a yes, then?” he asked, a faint twinkle in his eye. “No.”

To say Draco Malfoy spent time thinking about Harry Potter was probably an understatement at this point. His friends knew it, he knew it. Draco had hoped that joining Lockhart’s dueling club would appease his father, and impress Potter. It didn’t go exactly as planned on either front, but that was besides the point. Draco had learned a lot during that duel, that he was horribly under qualified to defend himself, and that Potter was made of fire. Since then, everything else in his life had been white noise, all he focused on was Harry. And the thing is, he noticed. He noticed the way he flinched when someone dropped a plate or set a serving spoon down too hard. He noticed that when the Weasel would wrap an arm around him and his entire body went rigid. He had no idea how all of their lives would change when he decided to do something to help-- when it turned out that Potter was more of a Slytherin than anyone thought.