Chapter Text
Theodore Nott had always regarded himself as a very considerate person.
For instance, the witch whose scarlet red lips were currently trailing desperately down his stomach had already been treated to not one, not two, but three orgasms—and the night was still very much young.
In fact, Theo thought as a hand was curled firmly around his cock, he would go as far to say that he wasn’t just considerate of people, but that he actually enjoyed making others feel good about themselves.
As someone whose bank vaults were exceedingly full—even after the Ministry had raided them in the name of war repatriation efforts— Theo had no need for employment, so he had plenty of spare hours to ruminate on the lives of his fellow wizard kind. Blaise liked to say that this meant Theo was a ‘gossipmonger’, but Blaise also spent his days drinking copious amounts of Firewhisky and bedding busty blondes, so Theo had learnt very quickly to disregard any insinuations that were cast his way from that particular wizard.
As lips traversed across his hip bone, nipping at the delicate skin, Theo decided that Blaise was incorrect, anyway. Theo did not gossip. Gossiping was what pureblooded high society ladies did during afternoon tea as they traded their eldest daughter’s hand in marriage. What Theo did was not malicious, nor scandalous. No, all Theo liked to do was involve himself in the lives of those around him so as to enhance their circumstances. He was just helping his friends better their lives, what was so wrong with that?
A tongue flicked out, smoothing up the length of him, and Theo found himself closing his eyes, biting his lip, as he thought about all those considerate things he had done for his friends over the years.
Take Pansy, for example. After the death of her parents during the war, she had struggled to find anywhere to live. The Ministry deemed the Parkinson family manor and bank accounts ripe for seizing, and no landlord in the country wanted to rent a flat out to the daughter of two Death Eaters, regardless of whether they were still living or not. Pansy refused to move in with any of the other Slytherins, saying she needed her own space, so Theo had had no choice but to pay one of the opposing landlords a quiet visit. With a bag of Galleons and some persuasion of the not-so-gentle kind, Theo successfully arranged a flat for Pansy to rent. See, not ‘gossipmongering’— Theo liked to call it positively meddling.
The witch took the hard length of him in her mouth, moving up and down in the most delicious way, and at the flash of her light blonde hair, Theo was reminded that there was just one person in his friends group whose life he had not managed to positively meddle in thus far, and it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. It just happened to be that Draco Malfoy was insufferably private and also knew Theo far too well. Whenever Theo attempted to better Draco’s life, he was unceremoniously thwarted at the first hurdle.
Three Examples Of Times That Theodore Ignatius Nott Had Attempted To Positively Meddle In Draco Lucius Malfoy’s Life And Had Been Left Unsuccessful
17th September 1991 - Theo suggests to Draco that it might be wise to rethink the idea that harassing Harry Potter would be the best course of action for the rest of their Hogwarts education, and instead proposes that an olive branch should be offered. Draco disagrees, and Theo spends the next six years of his school life watching him and Potter glare at each other from across classrooms.
11th May 1997 - Theo puts forward the notion that whatever secret mission Draco has been given by The Dark Lord is probably Not Worth It, and that Draco should consider emigrating to Australia and forging a new life on a cattle station. Draco disagrees, fixes the Vanishing Cabinet, and gets everyone he knows involved in a fucking war.
16th January 2005 - Theo recommends that Draco shouldn’t propose to Astoria Greengrass, due to them not only being a terrible match, but also the fact that they are not in love with each other. Draco disagrees, forges ahead with the idea, and is then completely embarrassed when not two months later Astoria elopes with Gregory Goyle.
Theo reached a hand down, flexing into the witch’s hair, as her tongue swirled around him, and his mind wandered to that one little detail about Draco that could no longer be ignored. Something had been going on with him for far too long, and it was especially obvious to Theo that Draco himself was not going to do anything to rectify the situation anytime soon.
The situation being that Draco Malfoy was hopelessly in love with Hermione Granger.
Theo had found himself pondering about this situation for some time, and he just really hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind that night. As he tugged the witch back up his body and licked the slope of her breast, he thought about Draco.
As he moved his lips across her collarbone and up the smooth expanse of her throat, he thought about Draco.
As he arranged her to straddle him, fitting their bodies together so she could slowly lower herself down on his cock, he thought about Draco.
In fact, he thought about Draco for so long that it occurred to him he might as well have taken Draco home to fuck, if the thought wasn’t so mildly horrifying. Draco was also firmly into witches, so would probably decline shagging him—Draco didn’t realise what he was missing, obviously.
If truth be told, the only time Theo didn’t think about Draco that night was as he came—after she had for the fourth time, naturally. Although his best friend had featured in many a late night teenage wanking session (see: Quidditch kits), thinking about Draco as he met his release as a grown adult did seem a step too far, even for an open-minded wizard like Theo.
By the time he untangled himself from the witch and rolled onto his silk sheets, chest heaving and breath laboured, Theo already had a plan formulated in his mind, and he smiled to himself, absolutely thrilled at the prospect.
_____________
When Theo excitedly informed Blaise of his plans the next day, Blaise was not impressed. He suggested Theo should just keep out of Draco’s love life, lest he want to be on the receiving end of one of Draco’s hexes. But Theo was frankly sick to death of Draco and Hermione’s back and forth arguments; the moaning about how much they couldn’t stand each other; the longing stares when they thought no one was looking; the unresolved sexual tension. The entire situation had become unbearable for Theo to witness any longer, and it was high time it was brought to a conclusion, not just for his sake but for everyone else who was also forced to be a bystander to the whole farce.
Because this situation had been going on for months, if not years, Theo had decided he might need some help and support in order to reach his goal of getting Draco to admit his feelings to Hermione. Blaise was obviously going to be next to useless, so he had to try and think who would be helpful in this endeavour. Pansy was completely out of the question, the witch wouldn’t know the meaning of the word supportive if it popped up and hexed her in the face, so there was only one other option, really.
“Nott, what the bloody hell do you want?” Ron Weasley stepped out of the fireplace and into one of the drawing rooms of Highrose House, brushing off his clothes. “That Patronus of yours caused a right scene in the shop.”
From his perch on a dusky blue eighteenth century armchair, Theo regarded him over the top of his whisky glass, eyebrow raising in an appraising manner. “Well, Weasley, aren’t you looking manly today.”
Ron glanced down at the smart black trousers and white oxford shirt he was wearing. He had long forgone his tie, and his sleeves were rolled up his forearms, which Theo eyed with interest. “Um, thanks, I guess. Me and George had a meeting with a potential investor for the joke shop.”
“Interesting,” said Theo, although he sounded anything but interested. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”
Ron sighed and sloped over to the sofa. “Why have you lot got to be so dramatic all the time?” He did a double take as he noticed Blaise lazing on a chaise longue under the bay window, glass of whisky in hand. “I mean, why is Zabini lurking in the corner?”
Blaise raised his glass in greeting. “I don’t lurk, lurking is uncouth. I hover.”
Theo waved his hand dismissively in Blaise’s direction. “Pay no attention to him, he’s made it very clear he wants no part of what we’re about to do.”
“And what is it we’re about to do?” Ron asked, pouring his own whisky and knocking back a drink.
“Get Draco and Hermione to admit they’re in love with each other.”
Ron spat whisky out all over the coffee table. He coughed, and slapped himself on the chest as he spluttered. “I’m sorry, I thought you said we were going to get Malfoy and Hermione to admit they’re in love with each other.”
“Exactly,” Theo said. “You know just as well as I do of this merry dance they’ve been partaking in. It’s high time they just got on with it and admitted their feelings to each other, don’t you agree?”
Ron cleared his throat. “I kind of just thought that one day all that arguing they always do would just turn into shagging.”
Theo looked at him as if he’d never been more stupid. “Draco has been obliviously obsessed with Hermione since she slapped him in the face in third year, do you really think they’re just going to suddenly start shagging? Repressed is his middle name.”
“Oh, I thought it would be some sort of stupid constellation,” Ron mused.
Theo blinked at him for a moment, and then clapped his hands together. “Anyway, time to formulate a plan.”
Jumping excitedly out of his chair, Theo strode over to a wall on the opposite side of the room to the bay window, and waved his wand with a flourish. A large blackboard appeared on the wall, with the words “How to get Draco to admit he is in love with Hermione” scrawled across the top in white chalk.
Blaise lifted his head slightly to peer across the room at the blackboard, gave a little amused snort, and went back to sipping his whisky. Theo ignored him.
“I have one main idea that I think we need to organise everything around,” he said, whipping his wand around so that one other word appeared on the board.
“Jealousy,” Ron read out loud.
“Exactly. Draco can get insanely jealous, the spoiled little prince, so our main plan of attack is to rile up those jealous feelings of his around Hermione. If we can do that successfully, I have no doubt that it will lead to the two of them—”
“Shagging,” said Ron.
“—admitting their love for each other,” Theo finished.
“You do realise that Draco will take great pleasure in murdering you slowly if he gets wind of this plan of yours,” Blaise said. “Both of you.”
“I’m not even sure why you’re here, Blaise. If you have nothing positive to contribute then feel free to go and hover elsewhere,” Theo huffed.
“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m only here for the whisky.”
“Go and drink your own family’s fucking whisky,” Theo snapped, to which Blaise smirked and relaxed back on the chaise longue, eyes closing. Theo sighed and turned back to Ron. “The first thing I propose is that you take Hermione out on a date to make Draco jealous.”
“Me?” Ron shook his head vehemently. “No way. She’ll see right through me, we’ve not had a romantic thought about each other since we were eighteen.”
Theo threw his hands in the air. “Fine. I will take Hermione on a date. I’m probably the better option anyway, I doubt Draco would see a bowl of chips and a butterbeer at The Leaky as much of a threat.” A pause. “No offence.”
Ron shrugged in conceded agreement, and Theo wafted his wand about to scrawl ‘1. Theo to take Hermione on a date’ on the blackboard. Another wave and the board melted into the wall, invisible to the naked eye.
“Plotting for stage one is complete. Now, let’s get absolutely wankered and perhaps have a duel. Weasley, you in?”
Ron settled back into the sofa cushions, kicked his feet up onto the table, and drained the rest of his whisky. “Absolutely.”
Theo grinned at him, completely thrilled.
_____________
After rising at the relatively early hour of 11am, and partaking in his normal morning routine of a black coffee, twenty laps of the swimming pool, and a small breakfast of yoghurt and muesli, Theo set out his parchment and got to work on inviting Hermione out for this date.
Dearest Hermione,
It has come to my attention that I have not laid eyes on your radiant and resplendent self since Luna’s birthday party, an astounding three weeks ago. This situation needs rectifying forthwith, and so I am requesting your presence tomorrow at Tavola Calda, 8pm. I will be the debonair handsome one holding a rose between my teeth.
Yours devotedly,
Theodore Ignatius Nott
It didn’t take long for a response, which came hurtling through the air mid-afternoon whilst Theo was busy pruning the rose bushes in the east garden. He put down his secateurs, pushed back his gardening visor, and ripped open the envelope as fast as he could.
Lovely Nott,
I would be absolutely delighted to attend dinner with you tomorrow night. My life has seemed distinctly lacking and empty with a Theo shaped hole, and I am looking forward to feeling complete again. However, I can’t help but feel that your note comes loaded with ulterior motives, so expect a full interrogation over the starters.
Yours suspiciously,
Hermione
Theo couldn’t have timed it any better, because as he went inside and dropped everything down onto the table, the Floo roared into life and out stepped a tense looking Draco.
“Theo, a whisky,” he said abruptly as he stepped from the hearth.
Theo raised an eyebrow. “I am not your House Elf.”
Draco marched over to the crystal decanter and poured himself a very healthy measure. “No Blaise today?”
“The Swedish witch is in London for the weekend.”
“Ah,” Draco sat down in Theo’s preferred armchair, and raised his glass in a mock toast. “May Blaise be up to his eyeballs in Scandinavian delights.”
Theo eyed him curiously. “What has got you so worked up, anyway?” He held up a hand. “Actually, I bet I can guess.”
“Granger,” Draco muttered bitterly, at the same time as Theo said, “Hermione.”
“So what has happened this time? Did you argue over some stupidly swotty fact? Or maybe you offended her friends by calling Potter a dimwit? Oh, I know, did the two of you send one heated gaze too many and finally burn the bloody Ministry down?”
Draco looked like he was making every effort not to roll his eyes to the back of his head. “No, she was just being her normal obstinate self.”
“Just the usual bickering-as-foreplay, then?”
“You’re a prat, you know that, right?”
Theo drummed his fingers on his glass and looked out across the drawing room as if in deep thought. It was worth one last try, surely? “Have you ever thought about—”
“No.”
“—but why don’t you—”
“No.”
“—I really think if you just tried—”
“Absolutely no. Whatever asinine idea you have concocted up in that brain of yours, forget about it right this second,” Draco snapped.
Theo held one hand to his chest, mouth gaping open. “I don’t think I like your insinuations.”
“Theo, behave.”
Theo grinned wolfishly and waggled his eyebrows. “I do like it when you tell me what to do.”
Draco did roll his eyes then, and his attention wavered as he noticed the peek of Hermione’s handwriting amongst the parchment on the table. He started to reach over towards it, when Theo quickly snatched the letter out of his grasp. “I’m afraid that’s a private correspondence.”
“With Granger?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny the sender of said letter.”
“Why is Granger sending you letters?”
Theo smiled to himself. It was even easier than he thought to rile Draco up. “Well, actually, she wants me to meet her for dinner tomorrow night.”
Draco frowned. “Why?”
Theo let out a laugh. “What do you mean, why? Why do you think a beautiful, single witch like Hermione Granger might want to meet with a beautiful, single wizard like me, hmm?” He let the question hang open, and there was silence as Draco busied himself in drinking the rest of his whisky, a sour look on his face. Theo was delighted.
“Where’s this dinner at?”
“Why?”
“No reason,” Draco shrugged in a lame attempt at nonchalance. “Just making polite conversation.”
Theo gamely played along. “Thought we’d try that new Italian place.”
Draco sniffed. “Granger doesn’t like tiramisu.”
“All being well we’ll be skipping dessert and heading straight to the bedroom,” Theo said casually, feigning interest in his nails. He mentally clapped himself on the back for a gauntlet well thrown.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a stormy look flash over Draco’s features, and Theo was absolutely thrilled.
_____________
Hermione entered the restaurant like a panther stalking its prey, gliding past the maître d' with a golden smile and sashaying over to Theo in six inch heels. He watched her appreciatively, and stood to kiss both her cheeks, his hand lingering at her hip.
“Nott,” she greeted. “And here I was looking for my rose.”
Theo stepped back and pulled a deep red rose from behind his ear like one of those fake wizards he’d seen on the streets of Muggle London, and presented it to her with a flourish. “For you, my dear. Looking exquisite in that dress.”
She patted him on the shoulder and they both took their seats opposite each other. Theo busied himself in perusing the wine menu, feeling Hermione’s gaze instantly sizing him up.
“So,” she said evenly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I’m not sure why everyone is always so suspicious whenever I want to see them.”
“Because, Theo, it’s you. You’re always up to something nefarious.”
Theo scoffed. “Can’t a wizard just want to spend time in the company of his friends?” He beckoned the waiter over quickly so he could place their order, Hermione surveying him through narrowed eyes the entire time.
He decided that the best course of action would be to lure Hermione into a false sense of security by being his dashing and enchanting self, therefore distracting her from casting aspersions on his motives. It wasn’t difficult to get her to start chatting over their starters. Theo was a great conversationalist, sprinkling in questions in all the right places, and nodding along encouragingly as she launched into stories about her day. As their main courses were tidied away, Hermione seemed to forget that she’d ever doubted his reasons for meeting her for dinner, so engaged she was in finishing her story about one of her fellow Healers treating someone with a ferocious Splinching injury.
Infact, Hermione was so engrossed in her story, she had no idea that a certain blonde haired wizard had entered the restaurant and was currently scouring the crowded room for a glance of her. Draco’s eyes met Theo’s, falling into a glare, and Theo sent him a coquettish little wave.
“Who are you—” Hermione twisted around in her seat, craning her neck in the direction Theo had waved. “—oh.” She gritted her teeth and her fingers curled on the tabletop. “Malfoy, great.”
“Problem, my love?” Theo enquired innocently, grabbing his wine glass as Draco started to move across the floor towards them.
Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. “Just… Malfoy. Insufferable prat. He was an absolute arse yesterday.”
“He’s an arse everyday, dear.” Theo looked up and grinned as Draco arrived at their table. “Draco! Fancy seeing you here. Dining alone?”
“Theo,” Draco said, and his eyes fell on Hermione, who was doing a very good impression of a dagger as she glared at him. “Granger. I’m not dining alone, no. My date has just gone to the lavatories.”
“Do you hear that, Hermione? Draco is on a date, isn’t that marvellous?”
“Yes, marvellous,” Hermione answered, her voice tight.
“And what of your date? Going well?” Draco asked, looking as if it was a real effort to get the words out.
Theo was absolutely delighted then, because Hermione reached over to grab one of his hands and wound their fingers together, resting it slowly on top of the table. She beamed back up at Draco. “Marvellous.”
Draco’s jaw tightened. “I shan’t keep you from it then.”
“No,” Hermione ground out. “You best get back to your own date. Although, there seems to be no sign of her, are you sure she hasn’t crawled out of the bathroom window to escape?”
Draco opened his mouth to reply, but was halted in his tracks as the waiter arrived and asked, “Can I get you the dessert menu?”
“No thank you, we’ll be skipping dessert,” Hermione replied, and, as Draco’s eyes nearly fell out of his head, Theo was completely thrilled.
_____________
The office hidden at the back of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was a chaotic place. A table in the middle of the room was covered with all sorts of interesting looking inventions in the midst of being finished, the lure of which was too much for a curious wizard such as Theo.
Light fingers hovered over what looked like a fluffy piece of cotton poking out of a wooden box. Maybe if he just…
“Don’t touch that,” Ron said. “Unless you want a cloud over your head that tells everyone how you’re feeling.”
Theo pulled his fingers back disappointedly, moving along the table to the next piece of twisted metal. He tilted his head and tried to make sense of what it might be.
Ron was leaning back on an office chair, feet up on his desk, arms behind his head, watching Theo consider the bits and bobs strewn around. “I thought you were going to fill me in on what happened on your date.”
“Oh, it was brilliant. Draco was positively incandescent with rage.”
“And Hermione?”
“She insinuated to him that we would be popping off to the bedroom,” Theo grinned. “He was practically grinding his teeth to dust.”
“But neither of them admitted any feelings?”
Theo snorted. “Did you really think it was going to be that easy? You do realise the two of them have been dancing around this for ages, don’t you?”
“I usually try not to think about Malfoy or Hermione’s love lives to be fair, whether that be separate or together.” Ron scratched at his scalp. “Don’t touch—”
A puff of smoke and a hundred small bouncy balls exploded out of a small cylinder, flinging around the room. They careened off the roof, the walls, the desk, until rolling to a stop on the wooden floor. Ron sighed.
“You don’t still have a thing for Hermione, do you?” Theo pulled back his hand and moved on to the next invention.
Ron let out a laugh, grabbing his wand to vanish the balls. “No, no way. We had a bit of a thing after the war, but we’re just friends”
“And what of a Weasley love life nowadays? A girl in every port?”
Ron huffed. “Not exactly. Have you ever been seeing someone and you think it’s just casual, but then apparently they’re convinced you’re together and they just don’t bother to tell you?
Theo paused, fingers millimetres away from touching a minute wooden box on the table. “Can’t say I have.”
“Well I was accused of cheating because I slept with someone else.” His voice rose and he looked annoyed. “But if I didn’t know we were together then how is that my fault?”
“Accidental infidelity, then?”
Ron threw his arms out into the air. “Exactly! But you trying telling that to Hannah.” He wheeled his chair closer to Theo. “Don’t touch—”
A loud air horn went off in the small space, causing both wizards to clap their hands over their ears. Theo reached back to the table and knocked the lid back on to the box in his hands rather quickly, cutting off the sound.
“Blimey.” Ron rubbed his face.
“So,” Theo said, putting the box down and clapping his hands together. “Time for the next stage of the plan.”
“Which is?”
“I was thinking some sort of forced proximity. Get them trapped together somewhere so they can hash out their differences.”
Ron looked dubious. “You want to force two of the most argumentative, stubborn people together?”
“I think it will do them good to air out all those grievances they have. Maybe then they can move past this weird flirting stage and be done with it.”
“So what were you thinking?”
“I was hoping you’d be able to help me with that. I need a get together where we can then force them to be with each other. Any ideas?”
Ron rocked on his chair, thinking. “Hermione’s always so busy with work, she never has any free time to do anything, but she is coming to the Burrow for Sunday dinner this weekend.”
Theo frowned and stopped the poking of a large metal tin. “I’m sorry, the Burrow? As in an underground rabbit hole?”
“No you prat, that’s my parents house.” Ron’s cheeks were tinging a little pink, and he looked away to act busy shuffling some paperwork around on his desk. “We can’t all live in sodding great manors.”
Theo shrugged. Manors weren’t all they were cracked up to be, he thought. Not when they were cold and lonely and were haunted by some extremely strange ghosts. The Burrow sounded…nice. “Deal,” he said. “We’ll come over for Sunday dinner.”
Ron halted his shuffling. “You’ll come over for dinner? You and Malfoy?”
“Don’t worry, Weasley, we have impeccable manners.”
“It’s not really you being rude that I think might be the issue.”
“It’ll be fine.” Theo waved his hand dismissively. “We’ve had dinner with The Dark Lord, it won’t be anywhere near as bad as that.”
“You’ve never had Sunday dinner with Ginny,” Ron sighed. “Right, ok, be there for two o’clock, then.” He made to stand up out of his chair, just as Theo’s hand stretched towards a round pink circle that looked very much like a button of some sort. “Wait, don’t touch the—”
A cacophony of sounds exploded about the small room—dogs barking, babies crying, car horns blaring, birds chirping, ambulance sirens, just to name a few. Ron flicked his wand to try and halt it but his attempts were futile and Theo could hear him shouting, “Bloody hell, Nott, I have no idea how to turn that one off!”
Theo grinned and exited the shop sharply, Ron’s shouts echoing as he left. He wandered aimlessly back down Diagon Alley, absolutely thrilled.
_____________
The Burrow was indeed a curious looking building, and Theo stood outside on the doorstep admiring just how different it was from his manor. Not different in a negative way, of course— in fact he very much enjoyed the homely feel of the place as he dragged a very reluctant Draco over to the door.
“When you said we were going out for Sunday dinner, I never in my wildest dreams thought you meant here,” Draco grimaced, looking around for an escape route. “You do know there are Weasleys inside, don’t you?”
“It would be strange if there weren’t.”
“Lots of Weasleys,” Draco emphasised, as Theo did a short knock on the door. “A whole herd of them.”
Theo nodded, nonplussed. “A burrow full, if you will.”
Draco looked like the petulant little brat he was, and Theo would’ve sent a hex his way if he wasn’t such an integral part of this whole plan. Instead, he put his arm around Draco’s shoulders and pulled him in close. “There, there, my precious love, I’ll be here to protect you from those big, scary Weasleys.”
This earned him a sharp elbow in the ribs just as the front door swung open and Molly Weasley stood on the doorstep. She somehow managed to show two completely different expressions at the same time as she looked between them both— delighted to see Theo and dismayed to see Draco.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Weasley.” Theo winced and rubbed his side, clearing his throat. “Thank you so much for agreeing to host us for Sunday dinner.” He leaned forward, scooped up her hand and pressed a kiss to it, ever the well-trained Pureblood.
“Oh, Theo, you absolute darling, how many times have I told you to call me Molly?”
Draco stepped forward, smoothing his expression into a neutral one. “Thank you for having us, Molly.”
“That’s Mrs. Weasley if you don’t mind, Draco,” Molly sniffed. “I thought you would’ve had some manners. Come along.”
Draco looked exasperated at Theo as the two of them trotted inside after her. As soon as they were over the threshold, they could hear the loud, incessant chatter of the Weasley household echoing through the hallway. Draco planted his feet and Theo tutted and dragged him the last few metres.
They entered the kitchen and everybody paused. A colony of Weasleys looked at them with various shades of expressions, the best being genial (Ron) and the worst disdain (Ginny).
Theo wasn’t someone who let a little hostility get in his way of a good time, especially when he knew the displeasure was more focused on Draco and not himself. He stepped forward into the room, a friendly smile on his face. “Weasleys, Potter, thank you for hosting us this afternoon for one of your world famous Sunday dinners. Please ignore my friend Draco here as he scowls in the corner. He won’t bite, unless you ask him to. We’ll keep him well-fed with scraps and I’m sure he’ll be a delight.”
Some of the Weasleys snickered at this— George, Ginny and the Dragon brother that Theo couldn’t remember the name of but whose sparkling blue eyes and tight t-shirt instantly distracted him.
“You’re an utter arse,” Draco murmured.
“Hermione, my love, looking absolutely magnificent as usual.” Theo moved over to kiss her on the cheek, to which she playfully pushed at his shoulder.
“What depraved act have you got cooking up today, Theo?” Hermione questioned. He was starting to think that she had more in common with Rita Skeeter than she thought.
“Leave him,” Ron scolded, pushing away from where he was leaning against the cabinets and providing the perfect distraction from Hermione’s persistent questioning of Theo’s motives. He flicked a tea towel at Theo with a grin. “Help us set the table, you can critique the decorations.”
“I would do no such thing,” Theo miffed. “Unless you heathens have used fake flowers and paper plates.” He looked over at Draco. “Stay here with Hermione and play nice.”
“I’m not a fucking dog,” Draco gritted his teeth, but stayed stock still anyway, as if moving an inch would unleash a Weasley in his direction.
Theo followed Ron’s lead and helped levitate various cutlery and plates across to the table as the kitchen erupted back into chatter. He kept one eye on Draco and was very pleased to see that Hermione had gone over and engaged him in a cordial conversation.
“So, what’s the plan?” Ron hissed as they placed the plates down.
“Basically force the two of them together at every opportunity.”
Ron looked over to where Ginny had wandered over to stand with Draco and Hermione. “It’s the other people we’ve got to worry about.”
Theo abandoned the place setting and quickly padded back across the kitchen, sliding up to Draco’s side just as he heard Ginny say, “And it’s your bloody fault, Malfoy, that Harry comes home so annoyed every day.”
“If Potter doesn’t like going home I don’t think you can blame that on me,” Draco said blankly, and Theo nudged his arm.
“Malfoy!” Hermione said, shocked. “You can’t say—”
Theo cut in, desperate. “Ginevra, have I ever told you that you’re my favourite Girl Weasley?” He flashed her his most beautiful, most stunning, most mesmerising smile— the one that had never failed to work for the past 26 years. It had seen him sail under the noses of the Hogwarts Professors as someone who could never be regarded as anything but entirely innocent.
Ginny’s eyebrows slowly knitted together as she sent him a hate-filled glare. “I’m not going to fall for your shit, Nott, so don’t even bother.”
Theo kept the smile plastered on his face, mourning the loss of it in his wide repertoire of charming acts. Trust its downfall to be at the hands of a Weasley. He rapidly decided the best option was to make a quick escape. “Right you are. I think I just heard Ron say he needs both mine and Draco’s help, excuse us.”
He yanked Draco away from Hermione before Ginny could shatter all of their hard work with one more barbed comment. They ended up over the other side of the kitchen, the table firmly between them and a buffer to any other Weasley that wasn’t Ron.
“Your bloody sister,” Theo whispered after he’d set Draco on setting out the cutlery.
“I did warn you,” Ron muttered, chucking a napkin down in each place setting with very little finesse. “And you thought Voldemort was bad.”
Theo stepped back towards Draco. “Can’t you be pleasant, just for today?”
Draco gaped at him. “I am perfectly pleasant. It was Ginny trying to goad me.”
“Well stop being a child about everything and just ignore it.”
Draco went back to glowering, but at least he wasn’t insulting anyone, so Theo considered this a step in the right direction for the plan.
Soon it was time to sit down for dinner, and with some quick manoeuvring on their part, Theo and Ron managed to engineer Draco and Hermione sitting next to each other, with Theo on Draco’s other side. Ron, Harry and Ginny sat in a line on the bench opposite, and for a while there was silence between them all as they piled up their plates and started to eat. At the other end of the table, Molly was lecturing a bored looking George on the virtues of finding a wife, while Dragon Weasley was carving beef with strong arms and a roguish attitude. Theo didn’t realise he was staring until Ron’s foot kicked him firmly under the table.
Theo could see Draco’s jaw working and mouth opening as if wanting to speak, and Theo prayed to the gods that he wasn't about to fire out an insult.
“Did you finish off that paperwork, Potter?” Draco asked in a tone that could actually be described as quite copacetic. Theo thanked those aforementioned gods.
Harry looked a little shifty, running a hand through his hair and taking a sudden great interest in his roast potatoes. “Erm, not quite.”
Draco sighed the sigh of the only Auror in the room bothered about his job. “You had one page to do.”
“I was busy,” Harry said defensively.
“I wouldn’t think chatting with Finnigan about your Quidditch fantasy teams could be classed as being busy.”
The thing with Draco and Harry being Auror partners was that nobody had considered what a terrible fucking idea that was. Theo would’ve thought that after the fifth time one of them had to visit St. Mungo’s due to tensions boiling over, their partnership might have been reconsidered. Apparently no one else in the DMLE has the ingenuity to think like Theo, however, and he wondered if it was high time he wrote a strongly worded Owl to Gawain Robards.
“Maybe you could’ve had the paperwork done if you spent less time pratting about with your hair all day.”
Draco let out a rather affronted sound. “At least I have the decency to come to work appropriately dressed and not like some street urchin.”
“Street urchin!” Harry cried. “I’ll have you know—”
While everyone else dutifully ate their dinner and tuned out, the back-and-forth argument continued. It wasn’t dissimilar to the kind of squabble that Draco normally traded with Hermione, and for a mortifying minute it did flitter across Theo’s mind to wonder if it was actually Harry Potter that Draco was in love with, and that this plan to set him up with Hermione had been doomed from the start.
With a frustrated sigh as her cutlery hit the table, Hermione had had enough. “Will you both stop it this instant,” she pretty much shouted at them, and everybody fell silent.
Both Draco and Harry’s mouths automatically snapped shut, and they instead eyed each other evilly across the table.
“Malfoy, do you have to be so bloody insufferable,” Hermione continued.
Ron was trying to communicate something through a series of blinks and eyebrow waggles over the top of the gravy boat. Theo mouthed “what?” back at him.
“Me! What about Potter!” Draco cried, those pouty lips making an appearance again. Theo did have to admit that a sulky look did a lot for Draco’s pointy features.
“Both of you need to grow up,” Hermione huffed. “I’m sick to death of your silly arguing.”
Theo considered pointing out that they were basically all watching a male version of her and Draco, but thought better of it once he caught sight of Hermione’s furious face. He nudged Ron’s foot under the table instead.
The dinner lapsed into silence again. Draco scowled, Harry grimaced, and, with Hermione fuming as she picked up her cutlery, Theo felt anything but thrilled at this stage of his plan.