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“So, who’s next?”
The words shook you out of your reverie, and you lifted your gaze just enough to see a half-drunk Draco eyeing the crowd with as much calculation as he could muster in such a state. You had been playing the game like this all night, you couldn’t lie, but in your defense, it wasn’t like you had chosen it. As far as you were concerned, Seven Minutes in Heaven was more of a nightmare than anything.
But, as it turned out, your luck had run out. A smirk pulled on the corners of Draco’s lips, and you knew you were done for.
“I choose…” the blond pretended to put some thought into it, a finger tapping his chin, before it changed direction, pointing right at you, “you! And….” He stopped again, eyes narrowing.
You groaned, albeit a bit dramatically. A hand drew itself along your calf, and you looked up to find a smile playing across Theo’s mouth, amusement at your predicament. You dug your heel into his lap in retribution, but did not move your feet from their perch there.
And, as if gifted the most brilliant idea, Draco’s deciding finger swung toward the brunet. “You!”
It was your turn to laugh — from payback or deprecation, you couldn’t tell. Of course it would be Theo.
In all fairness, you were the only two left, and also the quietest, which did not help your goal of avoidance. Maybe you’d have more luck with an invisibility cloak. You rolled your eyes, stretched your legs, and when your gaze met Theo’s, it held only a challenge.
He met it with just as much determination, smiling in a way that only ever promised trouble.
But despite — or, perhaps, because of — the fire that burned in your pupils, a certain heat rose to your cheeks as you realized what was coming.
(Theo was mesmerized, just about rocked into a trance, and he hardly noticed when his hand froze on your ankle.)
“Alright.” You looked to Draco. “Rules are rules.”
Theo took a deep pull from the bottle beside him, the alcohol clear in the gleam of his eyes, the freeness of his smile. He handed you the Firewhisky next, and you followed suit. It burned on the way down, but it was just what you needed.
“Rules are rules,” echoed Theo.
Your legs brought you toward the closet, in contrast to the hesitance of your heart. Theo was a few steps ahead when someone grabbed your wrist, and Pansy was revealed as the culprit.
“This is your chance,” she whispered fervently.
Your brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”
She gave you a look. The look. The one that said you knew exactly what she was talking about. “Don’t play that game. Seven minutes .”
“What?”
But she was already pushing toward the closet, hissing, “Don’t disappoint me,” before giving you a final shove.
The door swung shut behind you, and let out a sound of surprise as you fell into another body. This one, however, was laughing.
“Never were the graceful one, were you?” Theo teased, righting you easily enough, tapping your cheek when you glared at him. He positioned you against a wall, then slid down the one opposite. You did the same, and your outstretched legs slotted together like second nature. “What was that all about?” he asked.
You snorted. “Just Pansy being Pansy.”
“Ah,” he said, and that was all.
Seven minutes of this. Normally, you wouldn’t blink twice, having spent ten times as long in close quarters. Hell, you’ve spent hours like this. Walks through the gardens, study sessions in the corner of the library, hanging off his bed as you talked about anything and everything. Theo Nott was your best friend. Seven minutes was nothing.
Yet, things felt different. The closet was darker, the intentions were clear, and your heart — each inculpatory chamber — was caught in your throat. You swallowed, trying to shake the damned thing loose, but the effort was fruitless.
“So…” you broke the silence.
“So.” He gave you a grin, and you began to relax.
Seven minutes. Heaven. You could do this.
It had always been a gift between you, the ability to communicate without words. Even more, the ability to enjoy the silence together. You had him, and not much else was needed after that.
Still, when a slant of light from the door cut across his face, revealing just a sliver — the corner of his mouth, the brown of his eye — you began to want more.
“ Lumos ,” you whispered, the tip of your wand lighting in response. You placed it between the two of you, an offering of sorts. An exchange.
Theo’s lips quirked up, and that was currency enough.
60 seconds down, 360 to go. You were good.
Or, at least you thought you were. Because once your nerves stopped buzzing, your thinking cleared. You knew why you were here, why he was here, what everyone on the other side of that door was waiting for. Expecting.
And even if you were with them, even if you knew you were ready to take that leap, to become something more , you weren’t sure Theo would do the same.
(Theo, on the other hand, knew he would follow you to the ends of the earth if you let him.)
Seven minutes never felt so long.
You were locked in a staring contest before you knew it. Theo was holding your gaze, wholly possessing it. Look here , he said with no words at all. Look at me, get out of your head.
That was the moment you learned that you’d listen to just about anything asked of you. You grounded yourself, placed yourself in the here and now . His eyes kept you there, gave you the ability to explore your other senses.
Your feet were pressed against his thighs, your knees were knocking against his. Every shift, every breath, reminded you of that fact, and the thoughts you had once locked so far down became inescapable. He was there, all around you, stuck in this closet with you for five more minutes.
Suddenly, personal space became your greatest fear.
“You know,” Theo started, “this is like that time in third year, on the Express. The Dementors.”
You remembered that day well enough, the cold that chilled you to your soul, the desperation that made you reach out, grasping onto Theo next to you. He held you just as tightly, the gaps between your bodies becoming nonexistent. For minutes after, you stayed like that, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, not yet willing to let go.
That should have been your first sign.
You laughed, the sound coming out as nothing more than an exhale. “Glad you’re reminded of the good times,” you quipped, sarcasm dripping. “Be careful or I might kiss you next.”
Immediately, you shut your mouth. Not the place.
Theo, however, was not deterred. “Promise?” he taunted.
Another laugh that took all the air in your lungs with it.
Your contest was still going, though, eyes locked together, but winners and losers were not being called.
(You blinked a while ago. Multiple times, actually. But Theo kept himself to a minimum, to just enough , because he only had seven minutes, and he’d be damned if he wasted a second of it.)
You wondered what Pansy expected you to be doing right now. Did she think the two of you would be wrapped around each other? Did she think that under the guise of seven minutes, you’d let go of every wall you had so carefully constructed? More importantly, was she right?
The quietness returned, and you couldn’t stand it. Not anymore. “Let’s play a game,” you suggested.
That piqued his interest. “A game within a game? Not sure Pansy would approve.”
“Well, Pansy’s not here, is she?”
His eyes pierced yours, and you — unsuccessfully — swallowed the lump in your throat. You should have been more adamant about not participating. “I propose…” you hummed thoughtfully, “21 Questions.”
You chose it on purpose. You knew Theo, his quirks and his nuances and his subtleties. There was nothing he could ask that he wouldn’t already know, and vice versa. It would pass the time.
He crossed his arms. “Alright. But I get to ask first. And ,” he added, “we have to answer. No matter what.” Challenge sparked in the wake of his words.
You dipped your chin, blood already rushing at the prospect of competition. “Alright. Go.”
He took a moment. Studied you carefully. You didn’t break under his assessment, waiting patiently with a small smile on your face. Finally: “Favorite color?”
You rolled your eyes, shoulders falling as you leaned against the wall. “You know my favorite color, dipshit.”
“Fine.” He paused again. “What’s the last thing you ate?”
“Fruit.” It was a dumb question — he was stealing pieces from you the whole time. “Favorite animal?”
“I thought we weren’t asking things we already knew.”
“Now, that would just be impractical. We know everything about each other.”
“But—”
You were quick to stop him. “Answer the question, Theo.”
He shook his head, but humored you all the same. “I like cats.”
Another minute slipped by. The voices outside of this new haven grew in volume, and it served only to increase your sense of seclusion. As if the things that happened here would stay here.
Good thing, too, because his legs pressing against yours was really starting to get to you. Every breath resulted in movement, friction between your bodies. Something palpable built in the air, and you swore Theo could feel it too.
(For the record, he could. He could feel it all. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and opened them to find you still there across from him. He was scared for the second he might wake up.)
A handful of rounds passed. He began to dig deeper. “Biggest fear?”
You bit your cheek, considering. “McGonagall. Definitely McGonagall.”
Theo made a sound of agreement. “Your turn.”
“Biggest fear?”
“You can’t copy me. That’s against the rules.”
“It’s what I want to ask. Now tell me.”
He scoffed, but indulged you. “Clowns. But not just any clowns.” He leaned forward and whispered, “ Snake clowns.”
(To be fair, Theo did fear snakes and clowns, and the concept of them together was unimaginable. But there was a multitude of things — people , particularly the person seated across from him now — he feared more, ones that haunted both his worst nightmares and sweetest dreams.)
“ Theo ,” you groaned, letting your head fall back, a knock echoing. “Snake clowns don’t exist. They can’t hurt you.”
He shook his head. “You won’t be talking like that when the snake clown apocalypse begins. By then, you’ll be all, ‘ help Theo — oh, Theo! Save me from these unfathomable creatures, you were right about snake clowns all along . ’ And do you know what I will say?”
You tried to fight the grin, but you couldn’t help it. “Do tell.”
“ I told you so . And then I would save you, because that’s just the kind of white knight I am.”
“And they say chivalry is dead.”
—
The questions continued for some time. Favorite seasons and biggest pet peeve and even more personal ones: dreams , hopes , ideas . Things that lived inside of you, things that were shaped by him, belonged to him, just as much as they did to you.
But with three minutes to go, two questions left, and bravery growing as a result of so many limits, Theo asked his final question.
“What did Pansy say to you?”
You should have known he wouldn’t let it go so easily — Theo was never one to give up. When he wanted something, he got it. “It was stupid,” you said. “Not even worth repeating.”
“Try me.” His chin rested on his fist, genuinely interested in what had transpired.
You sighed, because denying him was never your strong suit. “She told me that this was my ‘chance’, and to not disappoint her .”
He stayed quiet, contemplating. “What did she mean by that?” he finally asked.
“Uh-uh,” you tutted. “That was your last question.”
He dramatized it, a hand on his chest as if wounded. “That’s hardly fair.”
“Rules are rules,” you reminded him. “Besides, it’s my turn.”
The air settled, and you could read the disappointment, the dissatisfaction, that he didn’t get what he was looking for. Wasted opportunity , you thought, but did not give him the chance to try again.
You ruminated for a few moments, and Theo let you. Questions rolled around your mouth, dug themselves into the caps of your teeth, danced on the tip of your tongue. In the meantime, you resumed the staring contest, your cheeks growing hot again. Your wand only provided so much light, but it was enough for you to pick out the high and low points of his face, for shadows to be cast in all the right places. His cheekbones, his brow, his cupid’s bow all stood out to you, and more than once you found your gaze drifting there.
There was so much you wanted to tell him, so much you wanted to show him. And you craved knowledge in return. You wanted to know Theo in a new manner, in a different one. You want to meet him under different circumstances, learn him in a different context. Intimacy existed between you already, how his touch found your legs and his eyes traced you like he knew every inch, like he was making sure all was in place.
But you desired more . You were hungry for it, as if you could never be sated. Not until you had him memorized in every way, every sense.
Two minutes were left on the clock.
“Tell me a secret.” You said, less a question, more a request. You would give him the freedom to choose the topic, to choose how personal.
He considered you, considered what he could say, and you let him. When he finally spoke, it revealed his hesitation. He seemed unprepared for the question, and you thought about revoking it. But before you could speak, Theo’s voice cut through this new current of thoughts dragging you under. He pulled you out.
“Darling?” The pet name was gentle and so occasionally used.
You readied yourself. “Yes?”
He loosed a breath. “You can only hide for so long, can’t you?” Trepidation lined his syllables.
Your brows drew together, confused. “What?”
Theo managed a weak laugh. “First, can you promise me something?”
Entirely sobered, you nodded. “Anything.”
He continued, “In two minutes, when we’re out of here, even if the trajectory of everything has changed, promise we can always go back to the way things were. Even if it’s different, our past won’t mean nothing?”
You agreed, almost willing to take it all back, but now too curious to stop him. You thought you knew all his secrets.
It was his turn to offer a smile, though you were sure he needed the encouragement more than you did. A minute was left on the clock.
In a pitiful attempt to lighten the mood, you prompted, “Well, out with it then. Give me a secret.”
He took a deep breath, and you held your own. “I,” he said carefully, slowly, “want you.”
No. You cut him off there. “Theo—”
His hand lifted, and his eyes pleaded with you. “Let me finish. Give me thirty seconds, and then you can yell at me all you want.”
Dipping your chin, you ceded. You had asked for this. “Thirty seconds.” You barely knew what you wanted to say anyway, what your interruption would do, but this fear that inhabited him did not bode well with you, and you would do just about anything to stop it. Still, you honored his time. Rules are rules .
“I want you,” he repeated, stronger. “As in this game is stupid, and our friends expect us out in a minute, and honestly it’s getting late and we have classes in the morning, but I want you, and I would stay here in this cold, dusty closet with you for hours, for days, if it meant we were together.”
Your teeth dug into your lip, and you were surprised you were still on the ground as you took in his words, because personally, it felt like you were floating.
His hand strayed near, and your fingers curled around it without thinking. Theo squeezed before going on. “And if you don’t feel that way, it’s fine, and I’d never want to pressure you into something you don’t want. But the fact of the matter is that this, you and me, is something I’ve thought about for a while now, and I might as well try. Maybe it was these seven minutes, or maybe it was the culmination of everything over time, but I’ve realized that the risk of losing you is worth the potential of having you.” He let out a deprecating laugh. “And that is my deepest secret. The one that belongs to you.”
There was not nearly enough oxygen in the room, and you felt like a fish out of water. The happiness that filled you was all-consuming, and it rendered you entirely speechless.
(Frankly, so was Theo, but these were words he had practiced so often in his head, in just about every dream — because they were all you, of course — that muscle memory served him well.)
With forty seconds left, anxiety, regret, and fear all stole his face, painted lines you hated across it. But the first words out of your mouth were enough to ease it all. An exchange.
“I thought, for so long,” you said, having been suddenly gifted the courage to voice your own buried truths, “that it’d be enough to have you as a friend, to have that piece of you.” Theo was frozen, and you squeezed his hand this time. “But knowing what they want of us, what we could have, shows me that friendship is not enough. It never was.”
(Theo blinked again, waiting, waiting, waiting for sunlight to filter through his window and for him to discover — with no small amount of disappointment — that this was simply the fruit of his subconscious, sweet as it was. But when he opened his eyes, you were still there.)
“And like you said,” you continued, and he leaned in without realizing, “you’re worth the risk.”
You moved first, or maybe he did, but soon enough his touch ventured to your hips and your hands to his shoulders, and just as you found yourself slotted together when you entered, you fit perfectly straddling his lap, lips one, two, three seconds away.
However, time was crueler than you thought. The door opened, and you weren’t ready. You froze, lips barely grazing, and you silently cursed whoever decided to interrupt you.
But Theo smiled — you felt it — and gripped your chin delicately, keeping you back. “Not here,” he said. “Not like this. Not when I can’t take my time. I’ve waited too long.”
You pulled back then, under the unspoken promise of more . Later. This is not the end.
There were still secrets to be shared, after all.
Stuck in a trance, you dimmed the light from your wand and pocketed it. And as you were pulled from the closet, you realized your hand was still wrapped tightly in his. And when you returned to the couch, your thoughts were still filled with him and him only.
(Likewise, Theo learned that dreams can, in fact, become reality.)