Work Text:
Theo never really minded going unnoticed. Chalk that up to practically being raised by house elves. Despite his father being a Death Eater, Theo wasn’t sure he was an entirely terrible person. He knew that he did awful things, but Theo knew that didn’t always equate to the same thing. He figured his father must have been a decent person to gain the love of his mother. And from what he remembered of his mother, she wouldn’t have loved his father if he were irredeemable. His grandfather, on the other hand, well, he was a right bastard. Perhaps that was why his father completely withdrew as a person when his mother died. He knew that they loved each other deeply. The elves never failed to tell him stories about how happy and filled with love his home had been at one point. He always imagined that he wasn’t enough for his father to be present. Or be engaged. Or proud. He would have even settled for polite. All he knew was that he regularly passed under everyone’s radar, at home and school. He preferred it, really. It was easier that way. At least that’s what he always told himself.
When he decided to come back to school for the offered eighth year, again, he didn’t expect much. He wanted to do his work, get his NEWTs, and work towards his mastery goals. He knew that despite everything, he had always been smart. He applied for his mastery in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes at L'Université Magique de Paris. He hoped his grades and his work would make up for the stigma his name held. He found that year to be challenging in many ways. For all the time that he flew under the radar at Hogwarts in his previous years, people certainly seemed to know who he was now. It stung his pride a little the first time Hermione spoke to him. It was after she stuck up for him when three fifth-year Gryffindors got a jump on him, leaving the library late one evening. He had seen her at a nearby table before he left, as to be expected. Theo had always seen her. She had an aura that demanded notice. She must have left a few minutes after he did because she helped him up after deducting points and asked him if he was alright. Of course, Hermione was kind and gracious and didn’t think twice about helping him like the Golden Girl she was, but it was not how he would have preferred her notice.
From then on, he did seem to have it more than usual. They often caught eyes across the Library or the Great Hall. Not that he hadn’t noticed her before. Now she was just seeing him back. He noticed that on Fridays, she always ate a pastry with her tea, rather than her usual marmalade and toast. He noticed that she was quieter this year and usually had more than one cup of tea at breakfast. She seemed tired and restless. While he and Draco were never very close, he overheard him telling Blaise late one night about what had happened over easter hols that past spring. It was a dark time, and his heart clenched that someone who had always seemed light had now been tainted by the dark too. He had hoped that when she didn’t return to Hogwarts that fall that she had gone far away from Britain. It’s what he wished he had been able to do.
She spoke to him again on a Tuesday in early November when she asked if he had sent in his application to L'Université Magique de Paris. He hadn’t been able to hold the surprise from his face, and she had blushed and explained that Professor McGonagall had mentioned he had applied when she was filling out her forms as well. He didn’t realize that anyone else from Hogwarts had planned on attending and was a little nervous that his fresh start would no longer be so fresh. He supposed that since she was going out of her way and talking to him, that maybe she didn’t hold his family and house against him. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad having something, or someone, familiar there.
She started joining him a few days a week at his table in the Library, which led to a few long chats over Butterbeer at Three Broomsticks. She told him about her hopes for France and found that they were both pursuing Arithmancy. She was also hoping for a mastery in Charms. She spoke about summers in France as a child and her extended family there. She talked about losing her parents the summer previously. It was something they both had in common in that sense—being orphans. He told her about his mother, from what he could remember. He had never told anyone stories of his mother before, and he wasn’t sure if she knew how hard that was for him to share. They talked about his father and grandfather, and she grabbed his hand while he spoke. They quietly shared that they were each looking forward to time away from Britain. For him, to find who he was outside of his family name and the darkness it held. For her, to discover who she was outside of war and the expectations that weighed on her. It felt...unsettling and wonderful and scary, sharing and being seen, and for the first time in as long as he could remember he felt hopeful.
Alone on Christmas morning, his breath caught when he opened the green and grey scarf she had knit and charmed for him. Her magic felt as warm as her hugs when he had put it around his neck.
On a Wednesday morning in early February, they locked eyes across the Great Hall when an owl swooped in and dropped a large letter from L'Université Magique de Paris off for both of them. It was almost amusing, the fate of his future, sitting so innocuously next to his plate of eggs and toast. He shouldn’t have worried. She flung herself at him outside in the courtyard after they opened their acceptance letters, and he couldn’t help but revel in the joy she gave so freely. She pulled back, gave him a shy smile, and told him she was happy that they would be going through it together.
He couldn’t help but agree.