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Theo
In the month following that fateful day that Theo had come clean to Granger about his relationship with Draco and offered her an in, they’d fallen into a wonderfully sweet routine. There were no labels yet, though he and Draco had never really used them prior to being with Hermione either, but they’d all made it fairly clear that this was something. More than sex, at least. Each weekday, they sat together in their joint classes, often switching around in Potions since it was tables of two; they walked in the halls together, talking and laughing, but never showing PDA because they hadn’t disclosed their thing to any of their friends yet; they studied together in the courtyard or the library, or occasionally in the interhouse common rooms, though that tended to draw a little more attention. And each weekend, and an occasional weeknight when any one of them was feeling particularly needy, Hermione would be sneaked into the Slytherins’ dorm room, and they would have mind-bending, brain-melting sex.
Theo knew sex. Mostly with Draco, but there had been other girls and boys before him. He knew it, was good at it, loved it. And he’d thought being with Draco was the pinnacle of pleasure—being so intimate with someone you trusted and cared for completely, knowing someone so wholly, inside and out. It was incredible, and yet, somehow, it hardly held a candle to being with both of them. Even moments where they weren’t naked left him happier and more fulfilled than he ever thought imaginable for himself.
All of that was to say they’d fallen into a perfectly balanced routine that he had no desire to change, maybe for the rest of his life.
And then, of course, the routine changed, and it was horrible.
Well—he’s being dramatic.
It was Wednesday, which meant they had Potions first thing after breakfast. Hermione hadn’t been in the Great Hall, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary, as she missed breakfast frequently. When she did, Theo would always slip an apple—green, because she was a heathen who liked sour fruit (though he found it poetic that she liked green apples, while he and Draco preferred red)—into his pocket and take it with him to class. He and Draco had learned to take turns sitting next to her, and it was thankfully his day.
He’d expected her to be in her usual seat by the time they got there, as per The Routine, but it was empty.
“Hm,” Draco hummed. He set his bag beside the stool at the table in front of them, then leaned against Theo’s table. “Have we ever both beaten her here?”
“I don’t think so.” He was already beginning to grin at the thought of her rushing in here, frazzled and flushed, waving them off as they teased her for being so slow.
The class filled up slowly, someone taking the empty seat beside Draco. Theo had already placed his bag in Hermione’s seat, but she remained elsewhere. When the bell chimed, she was still not there.
Draco’s eyes flicked from Theo to the empty seat, then back to Theo, and he frowned. “She’s late,” he said needlessly.
“Surely, she isn’t skipping.” The Weasley girl was known to skip class occasionally, but the chances of her pulling Hermione into one of her schemes were nonexistent.
“Hm,” Draco hummed, his silvery eyes calculating. He got two little creases between his brows when he was this deep in thought, and Theo imagined running his thumb over them to smooth them away.
“I’m sure she’ll be in Ancient Runes,” he said.
Except she was not.
Normally, she sat right in between Theo and Draco, but today, the seat remained empty.
Hence, the break in routine that was making Theo worry so much—a minor break, but as stated, he was dramatic at heart. As was Draco, whose eyes had scanned the Gryffindor table relentlessly at lunch. As they left the Great Hall for their last few classes of the day, Theo noticed a head of long red hair.
“Weasley,” he said before he could help it. Ginny Weasley whirled around and was instantly confused as to why he would be speaking to her. Surely, Granger had to have mentioned that they were at least friends.
“Sorry,” he said, not really sorry, “it’s just Granger wasn’t in Potions this morning, and I have an assignment for her that’s due by Friday. I wasn’t aware she knew how to skip class.”
Weasley’s confusion thawed out into something akin to displeasure. “Right, she did tell me she was friends with you and Malfoy now,” she said, frowning. Theo wasn’t sure if he should be smug or be upset by her blatant disregard. It wasn’t that he cared for Weasley’s opinion, but he knew Hermione would, and he imagined that once Ginny found out they were all more than friends, it was not going to go well if she already disliked him and Draco so vehemently.
He said nothing on the matter.
“Anyways, she’s sick,” Weasley continued, crossing her arms. “Hit her horribly overnight.”
Theo tried to react in a way that a Normal Friend would. “Oh,” he said, ever casual. He instantly ached to see her, to ensure she was alright. “That makes more sense than her skipping out on class, I suppose.”
Ginny held out her hand. Salazar, were all the Weasleys cursed to be absolutely covered in freckles? Those were only cute when they were dotted over Hermione’s cheeks and nose. “I can give her the assignment, though.”
He shook his head. “I’ll just do it for her,” he said. “Potions is one of the few classes I’m not horrible at, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”
Weasley blinked, her hand still outstretched. “Do it for her?” she echoed. Theo nodded, and she barked out a quiet laugh. “What, you fancy her or something?”
More than, but he wouldn’t tell her that.
“I am capable of being nice, Weasel.”
“You say as you call me a Weasel.”
“Well, we all have limits.”
Ginny rolled her eyes, finally dropping her hand. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll let her know you’re doing her assignment so she knows who to yell at when you get a less than perfect score.”
Theo grinned. He had an odd feeling Weasley and Pansy would get along well, if they were able to stand each other. “Thanks for your help, Weasley.”
He turned and walked over to where Draco was leaning against the stone wall just beyond the doors of the Great Hall. “She’s sick, says the Weasel.”
Draco frowned. “She was fine yesterday.”
“Apparently, it hit her overnight.”
“Mm,” he grunted. They each had two classes left, on opposite sides of the castle. Draco exhaled and flicked his eyes over Theo’s face. He was blatantly stressed, and Theo wanted to comfort him, but there were people all around them. They’d worried that if any faculty caught wind of their relationship, they’d be moved to separate dorms, so there was nothing Theo could do now.
“I’ll see you in a few hours, yeah?” he said, softening his voice just a tad, mindful of the surrounding ears. Draco nodded. His shoulder brushed Theo’s lightly as he walked past him, heading in the direction of his class.
Theo hardly paid attention in his two final classes. He was caught up thinking about how he might break through the wards in the Gryffindor girls’ dorm to see Hermione. Though it would hardly help considering he’d have no idea where her room was, or how to hold an invisibility spell long enough to find her. By the time he made it back to the Slytherin common room in the afternoon, Draco was already there, spread out in a black velvet chair as he spoke to Pansy.
There was a minor—teeny tiny, really—twinge of jealousy at seeing Draco chat with his ex-girlfriend, but Theo was too distracted to let it dwell. Especially when Draco’s eyes snapped in his direction the second he stepped through the door, locking on to him like a magnet.
“Why do you look like someone pissed in your cereal?” Pansy asked once he was closer. Theo placed a hand over his heart.
“You’re always so kind to me, Parkinson,” he said, leaning against the arm of Draco’s chair. “Just a long day.”
Pansy hummed, sitting back against the couch primly. “Fair enough,” she sighed. “I got detention for failing to turn in five assignments in bloody Arithmancy. Who gives a fuck about Arithmancy?”
“No one,” Draco said, “but most people tend to be better at pretending than you.”
She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m going to take your example of what not to do, and go start my Divination essay,” Theo said, standing. Draco leaned his head back against his chair. His hair scattered across his forehead, and Theo wanted to push it back.
“No, you can’t do your work because then I look horribly lazy by not doing my work.”
“Get detention then,” Theo shrugged. Draco exhaled slowly before pushing himself up from his chair.
“Now you’re both making me look lazy,” Pansy said, but she was already pulling a Witch Weekly magazine from her bag.
“Later, Parks,” Draco said. Theo frowned, following him.
“Since when is she Parks?” he asked. “I don’t have a nickname.”
“You have several.”
Theo waited for two Fifth years to pass them on the stairs. “Okay, none that you can use in public.”
Draco smirked. “What shall I call you, then?” he asked, tilting his head like he was thinking. “I can’t make anything from Nott, so that leaves Theodore. Would you like me to call you Teddy?”
“I will kill you.”
“You won’t.”
“I will if you call me that.”
“Oh, but I thought you wanted a nickname?”
Theo pushed open the door of their room. “I do, but—“ he cut himself off, stopping in place. Draco ran right into him with a quiet grunt. He opened his mouth, presumably to tell him off for stopping midstep, but Theo held a hand up. “How the bloody hell did she get in here?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.
There, on Draco’s bed, the sheets rising and falling subtly with her breath, was a sleeping Hermione. The little creases between Draco’s brows appeared as he looked at her, but his eyes were soft. They quickly and quietly shut their door, ensuring it was locked before creeping closer.
“She likes your bed more than mine,” Theo frowned.
“Probably smells better.”
Theo smacked Draco’s upper arm before his hand curled around his bicep. It was positively horrid that he wasn’t able to touch him all day long, so the moment they were back in their room, there was always some form of instant contact. Theo glanced over at his bed, then back at Hermione.
“Your bed, but she stole one of my pillows,” he said softly. Draco looked over the empty bed to confirm, snorting quietly.
“Fuck, she’s cute,” he murmured. “We should let her sleep, if she’s sick.”
“Mhm,” Theo hummed. He dropped a kiss on Draco’s jaw. “I’m going to work on my bed, love. You can join, if you’d like.”
“With no back support? I’m not an animal, Teddy.”
Theo’s smile vanished. “Invitation revoked.” He tried to pull away, but Draco laughed quietly and looped his arm around Theo’s waist. Pulling him closer, Draco tilted Theo’s head and kissed him. Theo melted into him. If there wasn’t a sleeping Granger in one of their beds and a mountain of work for both of them—including an assignment he had to do for Hermione—he would’ve pulled Draco right into his bed.
Theo leaned away, looking at Draco’s soft smile and hazy eyes. “Go do your homework, baby,” Theo said.
Draco’s eyes flicked back to Theo’s mouth, but he nodded. “Okay.”
Hermione
The moment Hermione woke up, she wished she hadn’t. Her head was still pounding, despite the Ache Relinquishing Potion she’d snagged from the infirmary a couple of hours ago. Her nose was entirely plugged up, forcing her to breathe through her mouth. She blinked her eyes open slowly, green sheets coming into focus.
She’d entirely forgotten that after her trip to the infirmary, she’d gone to Draco and Theo’s room. Sneaking in was easy now that she knew the password to get into the common room, and she knew it would be empty in the middle of the day. Of course, her boys were in class, but she’d plucked the pillow from Theo’s bed and crawled between Draco’s sheets.
She rolled over slowly, trying not to whine at the throbbing in her skull, and caught sight of movement across the room. Theo, on his bed.
Hermione sat up slowly. Draco was at his desk. Both of them were scribbling away on parchment, neither of them noticing that she was awake.
“When did you guys get back?” she asked after she rubbed the last of sleep from her eyes. Theo’s head snapped in her direction, and Draco turned in his chair.
“Hi, love. About an hour ago,” Theo said. “The Weasley girl said you were sick, so we let you sleep.”
Hermione hummed. She was thankful the lighting in the Slytherin dorms was nowhere near as bright as the Gryffindor dorms, though it still wasn’t doing much to alleviate her pain.
“I went to the infirmary around two and came here after,” she said, suddenly a little embarrassed at entering their space while they weren’t even here. “Sorry. I just… like it here,” she whispered.
“You’re always welcome, darling,” Theo said.
“Come here, Granger,” Draco held out a hand towards her. “I’m almost done. Sit with me while I finish my last few questions.”
Hermione shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to get you sick.”
Draco reached over and held up an empty phial. “We had a spare preventative antibody from the infirmary,” he said. “They gave Theo one when I was sick a few months ago, but he never took it because his immune system is batshit.”
Hermione blinked, turning her head towards Theo. He shrugged. “I got sick a lot as a kid, but I just kind of… stopped after age ten or so.”
Drawing the sheets back sluggishly, Hermione got out of bed and walked over towards Draco. Once she was within reach, he curled an arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. Her head felt so hot that when she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, it was cool in comparison. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he held her with his right arm as he finished writing with his left hand.
Occasionally, he’d drop a small kiss on her hair. The gentle touch was so comforting, it was no shock that her emotions started to build in her chest, and the skin around her eyes tingled. When she was younger and would get sick, her mum would hold her and push her curls away from her head, telling her to breathe through the pain because crying would only make it worse. It had never stopped Hermione from tearing up anyway, drops tracking down her cheeks from the ache.
She was able to quell the emotions with slow breaths for a while until Draco finally set his quill down and curled his other arm around her. “All done, love,” he murmured. “How are you feeling?”
Hermione held him tighter. She should’ve never come here when she was ill. They hadn’t asked for her sickly presence, and now she was seconds away from crying in Draco’s arms. Unfortunately, it was too late to pretend it wouldn’t happen.
“Um,” she whispered, hating that her voice already sounded a little thick, “I think I’m about to start crying?”
Draco stiffened for a split second, making her regret ever speaking. He pressed his cheek to her curls. “Why, baby?” he asked.
“My head hurts so badly,” she said. “I hate being sick.”
He hummed. “I’m sorry, love,” he said. He wrapped an arm under the bend of her knees and scooped her up. “Let’s lie down, yeah?”
He lay her down and crawled in beside her. She tucked her face into his chest. “Theo, too?” she requested, grateful that he couldn’t see the tear leak from the corner of her eyes.
“Nott, put that quill down and get your arse over here.”
“I have a few paragraphs left, and then I’ll be there.”
Draco lifted his head, and he must have silently communicated something to Theo, because a moment later, the weight of the bed dipped, and Theo was running a hand over the curve of her waist as he settled behind her.
“What’s all this, love?” he asked softly. Hermione sniffled, which hurt her head, which made another tear fall. She shifted onto her back, instantly lifting her hands to wipe away her tears.
“I’ve been like this since I was a kid,” she whispered. “I get all weepy and whiny when I’m sick. It’s like the one kind of pain I can’t handle, and my emotions go all… everywhere.”
“What hurts?” Theo asked, pushing a curl away from her forehead. Most of her hair was in a braid, but the pieces around the front always escaped.
“My head. And my nose is completely stuffed up,” she said, sniffling for emphasis.
Theo hummed. “Tilt your head back for me, love,” he said, pressing a few fingers to the top of her forehead. She listened, pressing down into the pillows. He Accio’d his wand and drew the tip of it up the slope of her nose, murmuring a quiet incantation she’d never heard. There was an odd sensation, like the contents of her nose were being flushed out of her body, and Hermione coughed once before she realized she could breathe through her nose. The pressure lessened on her sinuses, instantly cutting the pain inside her head in half. Her eyes snapped to his face.
“What did you do?”
He tossed his wand away carelessly. “Little mucus draining spell,” he said, like he hadn’t just fixed her most pressing issue. He traced his thumb over the curve of her jaw. “My mum liked to be the one to take care of me when I was sick as a boy, and that was one of the spells she always used on me.”
“Thank you,” she sighed, untangling her arm from Draco to lean up and hug Theo. He curled an arm around her waist tightly.
“One time,” he said as she lay back down, “I was so sick that the spell would only work for a few minutes before she’d have to repeat it, so do you want to know what she did?”
“What?”
“After the third or fourth time, she used her mouth to literally suck the mucus out of my nose.”
Hermione’s lips parted, her face scrunching up in disgust. Even Draco grunted in disbelief, just as appalled. “That is…” Hermione trailed off. The dedication of a mother, she supposed.
Theo laughed softly. “Gross,” he filled in. “But it worked. So if the spell doesn’t work for you, I can always do that.”
Her face, somehow, scrunched even further in disgust. “Please do not.”
“Just being helpful.”
“You’re horrible.”
“Yes, but I accomplished my goal.”
“Was your goal for me to never look at your mouth the same way again?” she asked, lifting her hand to trace her thumb along the curve of his lower lip.
“What a shame that would be for you,” he grinned, tilting his head to kiss the pad of her thumb. “No, darling, the goal was to make you smile.”
Hermione realized she was, indeed, smiling, even as there were still tears in her lash line. “Don’t suppose you know any secret spells to get rid of my headache completely?”
He hummed, tilting his head like he was thinking. Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Did that do it?”
This time, she could hardly blame the pain for the way her eyes watered. Her hands clapped over her face. “Ugh,” she groaned, rolling into Draco’s chest to hide. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m— sorry.”
It had been years since someone had taken care of her like this when she was sick. Before the war, she rarely seemed to get sick during the months she was home with her parents, always just when she was at school. And since the war, her parents were still in Australia with no memory of her, so clearly they weren’t taking care of her runny nose, which was no one’s fault but Hermione’s. But she was already crying; she didn’t want to unload that story on them. Then she’d be well and truly sobbing.
“Why are you saying sorry?” Theo asked, trying to pull her onto her back again.
“You guys didn’t ask for me to show up all sniffly and weepy,” she said, swiping her tears away quickly, as if she could hide them. “I wasn’t trying to force either of you to take care of me like this. I’m sorry.”
Theo instantly jumped to assure her that neither of them minded caring for her, but Draco just tilted his head. “You do know we like you for more than just sex, Granger. Right?” he asked, silvery eyes completely serious.
Hermione blinked, freezing in the middle of wiping a tear. “What?”
“I thought we all agreed this relationship was more than casual sex.”
“We… did,” she said.
“You seem to think we consider you a burden right now, just because you’re sick, which is something you can’t help.” He shifted closer, nearly leaning over her. “But we signed up for everything, which includes this. Would you help take care of me if I were the one all sniffly and weepy right now?”
Hermione pressed her lips together to stop her bottom lip from wobbling as she nodded. “You’d have to,” Theo cut in. “He’s bloody useless when he’s sick.”
Hermione laughed quietly, the sound watery. Draco shook his head, but the corner of his mouth curved up. “Not helping,” he chided.
“And yet, she’s smiling again.”
Draco’s eyes dropped to her mouth, but he returned to his point. “Don’t apologize for feeling comfortable with us, love,” he said softly. “I speak for both of us when I say we were glad to see you here when we got back, even knowing you were sick.”
Hermione was torn between covering her face and sobbing at the sincerity in his voice, and flinging her arms around him and crushing his weight to her. She settled on a timid smile. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay,” Draco echoed, clearly pleased that he reached her. He dropped a short kiss to her mouth before she could protest about sharing germs, and then he was wedging one arm beneath her and curling both around her waist, pulling her into his chest.
“Go finish your homework, Nott,” Draco said, hoarding Hermione away from him. She laughed but snuggled into his warmth.
“Mean, and also, no,” Theo replied, lying behind her and caging Hermione in as he locked an arm over both her and Draco. “I’ll finish it after dinner.”
“Mhm.”
Hermione felt the slight tension of tears forming behind her eyes at the surrounding warmth. Determined not to cry again, she said, “Theo?”
“Hm?”
“Would you have really sucked the mucus out of my nose if I’d said yes?”
Draco snorted. “Please don’t bring that up again. I’m trying to forget the mental image.”
Theo laughed into her shoulder, pressing a kiss there over the soft sweater she was wearing. “I definitely would.”
“Ugh,” Draco complained.
“That is so…” she hesitated. “Gross.”
“Merlin forbid I’m committed and caring.”
“Which is so appreciated, but that feels a little intense.”
“Can we please move on?” Draco cut in. Hermione tilted her head back to see him, mindful of Theo’s head behind hers.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t do that for me if I couldn’t breathe?”
His eyes glittered as he stared at her for two seconds before pressing a kiss to her nose. “Absolutely not, love.”