Mummy Crush

by willamalfoy

Summary:

When Hermione, a single mum just barely scraping by, can’t find anyone to watch her daughter so she can attend class, her unreasonably attractive professor gives her permission to bring the child along.

She tries to smother the crush she’s been harboring on Theo Nott all semester, but after seeing how well he interacts with Rosie, it only grows.

Notes:

• For sobsinashell.

The title of this fic is subject to change, depending on the vibes. 🙈

This idea was borne from an Instagram post sent to me by Sobs, to whom I am gifting this work since it wouldn’t exist without her.

Bouncing fic ideas off you is by and large my favorite fandom activity; I hope you enjoy this as much as I have creating it for you. 🤍

Chapter 1

“God dammit!” Hermione muttered, racing around her cramped flat in an effort to throw all of Rosie’s things for preschool into her diaper bag. The alarm on her phone had just gone off, signaling that she needed to be out the door in the next five minutes if she wanted to get her daughter to school and still make it to class on time. At least it was Friday, and she had only her chemistry lecture and lab. 

That, unfortunately, was not going to happen. 

“God dammit!” the pint-sized girl crowed back happily, watching her mother struggle to assemble everything quickly. “God dammit!”

“Rosie, that’s a naughty word!” Hermione chastised, grimacing at her own stupidity. Her nearly four year old daughter had a large vocabulary, always picking up what her mum said with ease. “Mummy shouldn’t have said that, don’t repeat it again please. Now, can you help me find your other shoe so we can drop you off at school?”

Rosie blinked owlishly at her mother before turning her attention back to the telly. Hermione really hated Peppa Pig but it was, to her deep regret, one of the only programmes that kept her daughter’s interest. She hadn’t even been the one to show her the stupid bloody cartoon. That honor had gone to Rosie’s father and Hermione’s deadbeat ex-boyfriend Ron. Well, technically it was Ron’s mum that had done it, but the damage was done regardless. Her daughter was addicted to the tiny piggy family. 

“Darling, I really need your help finding your other shoe, or we’ll have to change your outfit to wear the boots instead, and then Mummy will be really late.” Hermione had just shoved an extra breakfast bar into the snack pouch, completing her packing. 

With an exaggerated groan, Rosie hopped off the couch to lay flat on the carpet, reaching under the coffee table to procure the matching sparkly welly to the one Hermione had on hand. 

“Here it is, Mummy,” she said before throwing the rain boot toward her mother. “Gotta go potty!”

Hermione groaned, but took the opportunity to shut the telly off and scroll through the notifications on her mobile. There was a missed call and voicemail from Rosie’s nursery school.

“—regret to inform you that Madam Sprout’s Nursery will be closed for three to five business days while a bed bug ingestion is—”

“God dammit,” Hermione cried, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She hadn’t noticed the toilet flush or the sound of little socked feet padding down the hallway. 

“God dammit!” 

 

After buckling Rosie into her car seat, Hermione set about calling her way down the list of babysitters she’d accumulated over the last three years since breaking up with Ron. He himself was quite far down the list, just below his mother (but above his sister, who always acted like Rosie was a bad influence on her own children, who were two and one).

But of course, luck was not on her side today, as she reached her ex’s name much too quickly. 

“‘Lo?” Ron answered, his voice over the car speakers slightly muffled and groggy. He must still be asleep, which meant he’d probably been out at the pubs late and was likely hungover. Hermione was terribly tempted just to hang up, but she was desperate to find someone to look after Rosie so she could attend class. She had a test in her lecture that she absolutely could not miss. 

“Ronald, hi,” she said. “Rosie, say hello to Daddy, hmm?”

Rosie did no such thing. 

“Hullo Rose darling,” Ron said in a patronizing baby voice. “How’s my favorite girl?”

“I thought I was your favorite girl!” hissed the low, equally groggy voice of Lavender. Lovely, Hermione thought uncharitably. 

Ron ignored her. “What’s up, Mione? Lav and I aren’t feeling that great this morning. If it’s about the cheque, I swear it was posted yesterday.”

“No, I don’t care about the bloody check, Ron!” Hermione replied, growing quite frustrated. As she came upon a red streetlight, she slowed the car to a stop. “Listen, Rosie’s nursery school has closed down for the next few days and I really need someone—”

“Today’s not good, I’m afraid. We’ve got plans to meet up with some of Lav’s friends from uni.”

“It’s just, I’ve got a really important exam in my chem class, and I’ve literally tried everyone but—” 

Ron cut her off again. “Blimey, Mione, just call my mum! I’m sure she’d be able to keep an eye on Rose. Lav’s friends don’t really like kids, they’d all be really uncomfortable. I’m sure you’re way ahead in that class, and anyway, Lav’s professors give her extensions for exams all the time.” Yeah, she thought. I bet they do. The light turned green and she took off again, peering cautiously into the backseat for any indication that Rosie might be listening. 

“Your mum said she couldn’t watch Rosie anymore when she has James and Lily; it’s too much work for her.” That was a lie—Molly Weasley had raised seven children born within ten years practically by herself while her husband Arthur worked a Council job. She just wasn’t fond of Hermione, and enjoyed making the curly-haired girl as miserable as possible whenever she could. 

Hermione could hear some muffled feminine whispering before her ex continued. “Dunno why you’re even bothering with uni anyway, it’s so bloody expensive and I don’t want those cheques I send going anywhere but to Rose’s upkeep.”

Hermione wanted to scream. 

Instead she said through gritted teeth, “Yep, I’ll figure it out. Goodbye, Ronald.” She hung up and blinked back tears. God, why did she have to procreate with such a bloody wanker like Ronald Weasley? Why couldn’t she have seen through his bullshit and never bothered with that second date? An ugly sob broke through her tightly drawn lips as she drove. 

“Mummy crying?” Rosie’s little voice was full of concern and it made her want to cry harder. 

“No, love,” she assured after taking a moment to compose herself. “Mummy is fine, just a little frustrated.”

“Fruserateded?” 

“Frust-rated,” Hermione corrected. “It’s alright. I’ll just send an email to my professor. He’s just going to have to understand.”

 

As she pulled into a parking spot outside the building where her chemistry lecture met, Hermione realized she hadn’t had a chance to do anything more for her appearance than dress in clothes that matched before leaving the flat. Since she hadn’t needed the extra time to drop Rosie off at school or with a sitter, she’d managed to arrive at school twenty minutes before class. 

Rosie, for her part, had fallen asleep on the drive and was currently snoring lightly with her head tucked down onto her chest. 

Hermione fished a few tubes of makeup from her purse, hoping it would be enough to cover the remnants of her tears. A few swipes of mascara, a cream blush dabbed in with her fingertips, and some plumping gloss was just the ticket, combined with the pretty floral claw clip she found in the seat next to her to keep her hair piled on top of her head. She gathered the bags she needed for class and to keep Rosie quietly occupied, slung them over each shoulder, and retrieved her daughter from the backseat. 

Thankfully Rosie didn’t fuss when Hermione scooped the tiny girl up, her riotous strawberry curls sticking up in the back from static electricity. A soft snowfall fell around them as she carried her toward the beckoning warmth of the science building. Christmas was coming up, and Hermione wasn’t sure exactly when she’d have the time to holiday shop, or even if she’d be able to afford more than one or two new-to-them toys for Rosie. Ever since getting pregnant at seventeen, with her parents disowning her and subsequently relocating to Australia, money had been tight. Ron’s sporadic support cheques barely covered their daughter’s nursery fees, let alone keeping the lights on in their flat. 

Hermione made semi-decent money with her OnlyFans account, but dedicating so much extra time to making sure her photos and videos were perfect was exhausting and, frankly, almost not worth the effort. Occasionally, she’d pick up a barmaid shift at the pub she lived above, and they always let Rosie nap in a pack n play in the back, but they didn’t need much help since hiring someone for the holiday rush. 

But she was coming up on her last semester of undergrad, and miraculously would be graduating on time—as long as she didn’t fail her bloody chemistry class, that is. 

Just as the girls had made it inside the building, and Hermione was stomping the sleet off her well-worn wellies, her phone chimed in her back jeans pocket. It was an email from her chem professor. 

‘Ms. Granger,’ it read. 

‘Apologies for the short-notice response. 

Under the circumstances, of course feel free to bring her to class. If she’s as well-behaved as her mother, I’m positive she won’t be a disturbance while you take your test. 

Let me know if there’s anything I can do to accommodate you further; you’re a bright girl, and your daughter should never be the reason you’re unable to achieve everything you want for yourself. 

Regards,

Professor Theodore Nott

Ph. D, MBA of Sciences’

She let out a sigh of relief she hadn’t known she’d been holding. It was lucky, she thought, to have such an accommodating professor teaching her class this semester. 

“Hermione!” called a voice from behind her as she walked the baroque corridors toward their lecture hall. She turned to see her best friend Pansy, with Padma and Lisa closely following. “Rosie Posie, is that you?”

The dark-haired girl bullied Rosie out of her mother’s arms once she approached. She squealed happily as ‘Auntie Panny’ lifted her and blew noisy raspberries on her little belly. 

“What is she doing here?” Lisa asked, smiling widely at the pint-sized girl in Pansy’s grasp. 

“Don’t even get me bloody started,” Hermione grumbled, rage for her ex bubbling up in earnest. “Nursery is closed until they deal with a —gag— bedbug infestation, and of course her P R I C K of a father can’t be arsed to watch his bloody daughter.”

“I’m still kicking myself for introducing you,” Padma cringed, linking arms with her as they walked. “And doubly sorry that Parvati set him up with Lavender. That slag is such an attention-seeker, it’s bloody embarrassing. They’re always at my flat, too.” Padma had lived with her sister since they started uni, but had been looking for a new flat ever since her sister had invited Lavender to stay last year.  

“It’s not your fault, Pads,” Hermione assured with a hip bump and a smile. “Trash sticks to trash.”

They arrived at their lecture hall with five minutes to spare until class began, still managing to beat every other person excepting the TA, Draco. 

“Ah, so this is why Nott had me xeroxing unicorn coloring pages,” Draco said, amused, as Hermione took Rosie back from Pansy and settled into a seat near the back of the room. If her daughter did get too loud, at least they’d be close to the door for a hasty exit. “Your daughter, Granger?”

“Mummy, I’m hungry,” Rosie said, tugging gently on her mother’s ear to get her attention. Hermione set the girl down on a chair and began rummaging through her diaper bag for a snack. 

“Mmm, yes, this is Rosie Granger. Rosie, can you say hullo to Mr. Draco while Mummy opens your gummies?”

Rosie peered over the desk and down at Draco before nodding. “Hullo, Mr. Draco.” Draco barked a laugh at her serious tone, then made his way toward them with the coloring pages and a small box of specialty glitter crayons. 

“I found these this morning in my pocket when I arrived, but I don’t remember purchasing them. Do you suppose a fairy left them for… you?” 

This caught the small girl’s attention, eyes widening comically. “Can I?” She made grabby hands at the box, which Draco relinquished without delay, along with the printed coloring sheets. Rosie immediately got to work, packet of fruit gummies long forgotten beside her water cup. 

“Thank you,” Hermione said with a small smile; Draco nodded before returning to his satchel and laptop at the front of the classroom. Students had begun filing in, filling in the seats. 

“I’ve got to run to my Econ class, but let’s get lunch at that new sushi place in SoHo, my treat!” Pansy said, kissing Rosie on the top of her head and giving Hermione a quick squeeze. “No excuses!” Before she could protest, the infuriating girl was gone. 

 

Professor Nott arrived shortly after class was due to start, distributing exam packets as he descended to the front of the room. 

“Right then, once you’ve finished examinations, please work quietly on other projects or papers until it’s time to move to your lab module,” he announced once settled at his desk. “If you have any questions regarding test phrasing or graph formatting, don’t hesitate to come down and ask myself or Mr. Malfoy. You may begin.”

Hermione opened the taped packet with her pencil and immediately started in on the exam. She’d studied for hours the night before, in between making Rosie dinner, giving her a bath, and the forty five minute affair that was Bedtime. The Giving Tree had been read so many times at this point, she no longer even teared up when the Boy grew up. More studying had commenced once the little girl was asleep in her little toddler bed beside Hermione’s double, out in the sitting room whilst on a FaceTime call with Padma and Lisa. 

Midway through the last portion of the test, Rosie ceased coloring and had begun squirming in her seat. 

“Mummy,” the little girl whispered, trying adorably but failing spectacularly to stay quiet. “I need the potty!”

Hermione bit her lip, trying not to get frustrated by inescapable human functions and tiny toddler bladders. 

“Mummy!” Rosie insisted, voice growing louder and more frantic. 

“Please lovie, can you hold it for just a few more minutes?” Hermione begged quietly, even as she frantically scribbled more onto the paper. 

“I gotta go!” Rosie was shouting now, desperate for relief. 

“Is everything alright, Ms. Granger?” Professor Nott had materialized beside their table, peering down at her from behind his horn-rimmed spectacles. She tried not to notice how lovely his green eyes were, or how the smattering of dark stubble on his chin made the normally studious professor look even more rugged and handsome than usual. 

“I’m so sorry for the disturbance, Professor. Rosie needs the loo, but I haven’t finished my—” Hermione began to explain, but Professor Nott held up a hand to stop her babbling. 

“The nearest loo is in my office two doors down from here; otherwise you’ll have to cut across the building for a ladies lavatory. I’m sure you’ve no intention to cheat, but let’s just leave your mobile with me to keep it all above board.” She stared at him, somewhat slack-jawed. Nott usually had a policy that students couldn’t leave the room during testing for any reason, so it was shocking for him to be granting her permission to dip out. “Hurry now, before your little pixie makes a proper puddle for those adorable wellies.” Hermione scooped Rosie up without further prompting, racing for Professor Nott’s office. 

 

They made it, quite thankfully, with mere moments to spare. As Rosie relieved herself, Hermione took in what was a fairly posh loo. She’d seen him during office hours a few times, and had always thought his space looked as though it belonged to an 18th century lit professor over a professor of chemistry.  Dark paneled walls made up the space, a sturdy desk made of some hardwood that probably cost at least a thousand pounds sat in the middle of the room, but the wall lined with bookshelves, crammed with hundreds of books of all genres and subjects, was Hermione’s favorite part of the office. 

“Nearly done, Rosie Posie?” she asked somewhat absently as her eyes flicked over a shelf of what seemed to be erotic poetry books. Eyes widening at some of the titles (good God, she could hardly even read them in her head, let alone aloud), she had a sudden, unbidden image of Professor Nott reciting such works, from memory, as he buried his fingers between her thighs. Her face felt quite warm and she knew she’d have her work cut out to banish the blush before she returned to complete her exam. 

She had developed a crush on her chemistry professor early on in the term, initially drawn to him because of how unlike her ex he was. Both men were tall, but that was where the similarities ended. Where Ronald had always been somewhat broad and lanky all at once, Theo Nott had a slender sort of build, with toned muscles unachievable through weight lifting. She’d seen him, when the weather was still nice, jogging around campus in a tight fitted shirt and athletic shorts, and yum. She could bounce a quarter off his arse with ease. 

Ronald’s eyes were the color of the sky, which Hermione had once found dreamy, but now the color turned her stomach. Theo, meanwhile, had gorgeous eyes of viridian, so vivid and lush. Their coloring was a stark difference as well, with Theo’s olive skin and dark hair styled in an undercut a welcome change from pasty, freckled skin and fiery locks Ron kept long enough for a man bun. 

Oh, and she couldn’t forget the age difference. Ronald was Hermione’s age, whereas Professor Nott must’ve been close to forty, given the few strands of grey that streaked his curls. 

“Can’t reach the toilet roll!” Rosie finally answered. Hermione let out a sigh of relief at the distraction, and quickly ran to help her daughter wipe her bum. 

 

 

Chapter 2

Rosie’s nursery school had been shut down permanently. In addition to the bed bugs, Council workers had also found a significant amount of black mould under the carpets, and the foundation had a severe crack. They informed parents early Sunday morning through the automatic alert system. The Council promised to make accommodations come the new year, and apologized for the inconvenience of the next month without stable childcare. 

Not all of Hermione’s professors were as gracious about her pint-sized guest as Nott, as she found out from the slew of responses she’d received via email on Sunday afternoon. While Rosie colored at her art easel (last year’s Christmas present), her mother sat at the kitchen table, trying to draw up a timetable of which classes she could bring her to, and which she’d need to find a sitter for. It was a stroke of luck that her other class besides chemistry on Tuesdays was with Minerva McGonagall, one of her favorite professors and an old friend of her parents. Minerva loved Rosie, and as her godmother had often offered to babysit her in the evenings so Hermione could study in peace. 

Loathe as she was to call upon Molly, Hermione found she didn’t really have a choice. She had classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays that she simply couldn’t bring Rosie to. 

“Mummy, I’m hungry,” Rosie said from the sitting room. “Time for tea?”

“Yes darling, and then Mummy needs you to have a little lie down so I can work on my studies,” Hermione answered, rising from her chair. Rosie huffed, not a fan of mid-day naps, but didn’t argue. 

She made for the refrigerator and poked around for something she could make for lunch. There wasn’t much; Hermione hadn’t had enough money in her account to buy much more than the bare essentials like bread and milk. A few spare slices of cheese sat in a deli bag, and she had a few cans of soup in her pantry that could be easily heated. 

“How does a cheese toastie and tomato soup sound, Rosie Posie?” 

“Yummy, Mummy!” her daughter replied, then began repeating the rhyme over and over in between giggles. “Yummy Mummy, Yummy Mummy!” Hermione couldn’t help smile at her darling girl. Rosie hadn’t inherited much from her ex besides her hair color, but she found Ron and her daughter had a very similar sense of humor. Of course, that could be chalked up to his wild immaturity rather than any true genetic similarities. 

While she spread butter on the bread, she dialed Molly. 

“Oh, hello Hermione, dear,” the squat woman answered with saccharine sweetness. Hermione knew it was for show; one of her children or Arthur must be there, since she was usually much less enthusiastic in answering her calls. “How is my darling Rose today? Grandmum misses you!”

“Molly, I haven’t got it on speakerphone, and Rosie is in the loo.” The older woman had begun shouting into the mouthpiece.  “Listen, I know you weren’t available Friday due to the short notice, but Rosie’s nursery school has shut down through the end of the year. I was hoping you might be able to watch her on either Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, or any combination of those days.”

“We’d love to, ‘Mione!” said a male voice from the other end. Arthur, then. Hermione couldn’t fathom how a kind, sweet man such as he could be married to the steam roller that was Molly Weasley. “We could manage all three days, I’m sure.”

“Yes, of course dear, we’d be overjoyed to watch Rose.” A pause. “In fact, why don’t we just keep her from Wednesday until the weekend? George and Angelina’s Hattie is having her sixth birthday party here in our backyard on Saturday, and has been asking after her cousin Rose.”

“Bring her over Tuesday night, and we can have a little slumber party with some of the other grands!” Arthur insisted. 

“Well… erm,” Hermione started, worrying her lip with her teeth. Excepting two unbearably long nights that Rosie had spent in the NICU as a newborn born six weeks early (brought on by the stress of discovering Ron’s infidelity, plus her parents’ move to Australia without having reconciled), she hadn’t spent a night away from her girl since she gave birth. But, with finals coming up, it would be a boon to have a few uninterrupted days to study. “Yes, I suppose we can arrange for that. I’ll bring her by on Tuesday evening. Would you like me to feed her before we arrive?”

“Pish posh, of course I’ll be happy to make a little extra for her. She’s such a small thing, she needs to eat some good, hearty, homemade meals instead of all that takeaway you do.” Molly’s less than subtle dig made Hermione want to scream, but she forced herself to breathe deeply before answering. 

“That will be lovely then, Molly, thank you. See you Thursday.” Molly and Arthur both said goodbye to Rose (loudly, right in the curly-haired girl’s ear), and Hermione hung up. 

“Ah, bugger,” she swore, flipping the toastie to reveal an inedible slice of black char on the other side. With a quickness, she turned down the grill’s flame to ensure the other side didn’t burn too. Well, that one would be hers then, she decided glumly as the second side sizzled. 

 

Hermione dropped Rosie off with the Weasley’s Monday morning before heading to her first class of the day. Mondays and Wednesdays were her fuller days, with three classes each. Rosie was initially hesitant, not wanting her mother to leave. She only unstuck herself from Hermione’s leg once Arthur came outside to leave himself for work. 

“I don’t need to be in for another two hours yet, I’d just planned on getting some extra work done,” he explained when Hermione protested his delay in leaving. “If it’ll help Rose settle, I’m happy to stay for a while longer.”

Rosie looked content in Arthur’s arms, so Hermione gave a little nod before kissing her daughter and starting back into the city for school. 

She sat through her anatomy and physiology class thoroughly distracted, unable to stop checking her phone for updates about Rosie. Her notes were subpar as a result, so Padma offered to email hers after class. It wasn’t usual for her to be so worried about her daughter at the Weasley’s, but she just had a horrible feeling that something was wrong. 

Calculus required every ounce of Hermione’s attention, so she was able to put Rosie in the back of her mind while the formulas wove through her brain. Of all her finals, she was the most concerned about calculus. Maths was her weakest subject, but it was necessary for her degree. Lisa also had calculus with her, and they made plans to have a little study party at Hermione’s flat on Friday night. 

While she ate a wholly inadequate lunch of cheddar crisps and a blueberry energy drink, she sent an email to Professor Nott, thanking him for allowing Rosie to attend class, and reminding him that she’d be along tomorrow too. He replied in under five minutes, even though she knew he had a lecture right then. 

‘Any time, Miss Granger. I’ll have something to keep her attention ready, as well. 

I look forward to seeing you both in class. 

She tried with little success to tamp down the butterflies that had begun fluttering around in her tummy. 

Her last class of the day was an arts filler, Creative Writing. She thoroughly enjoyed it, even if Trelawney was a spot dotty and had lost a great stack of short stories they’d done back in October. Trelawney had even graciously agreed to allow Rosie into class, but since Snape and Vector had both vehemently said no, it was a moot point. 

On her way out to her car once all her classes had finished, Hermione nearly collided with Draco, Professor Nott’s TA. 

“Hullo, Granger,” he said amiably. One would never know, based on the pair’s interaction, that they’d once shared a drunken night of, frankly outstanding, shagging. He’d been freaked out that she had a kid, though, so it hadn’t gone anywhere. Now that they weren’t physical, however, it seemed he didn’t mind Rosie. “Where’s the sprog today? Nursery school sorted?”

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “Not at all. They’re been shut down by the council for bed bugs, mould, and a cracked bloody foundation. No, Ronald’s charming mother has her today, and then Wednesday through the weekend.”

Draco couldn’t suppress the sneer at her ex’s name. They’d been in the same football club growing up, on rival teams. Positively loathed each other, in fact, which was a deciding factor in Hermione’s initial pursuit of the tall blond before her. 

“She’ll be in class tomorrow, though, since Professor Nott said it was alright. I really don’t like to leave Rosie alone with Ron’s mum, but I do need the uninterrupted study time.”

“Right-o,” Draco answered in his posh voice. “Well, don’t let me keep you then. I’m sure you anxious to pick her up from that hovel the Weasley’s call a house.”

Once, Hermione might have been inclined to defend the Weasley’s ramshackle abode, but since everything with Ronald had gone arse over tits, she couldn’t be bothered. She bid Draco farewell, then made a quick beeline to her car. 

 

When Hermione picked her daughter up in the late afternoon, she was somewhat surprised to see her in her spare clothes. Molly said, quite loudly and pointedly, that Rosie had had an accident, and they’d had to swap her outfit. The little girl looked terribly embarrassed and even on the verge of tears. Ronald’s mother assured her there was a new change of spare clothes in the bag, and that she’d keep the soiled ones to wash and return when Rosie came to stay for the long weekend. 

Rosie was unusually quiet during the drive back to their flat, but when Hermione pressed the small girl, she insisted that she was fine. Just hungry. 

“Didn’t Grandmum Molly feed you lunch, darling?” she queried, anxiety that she’d made a terrible mistake bubbling up. 

“Yes, Mummy, I’m just still hungry. Can we have fried rice for supper please?”

Hermione readily agreed, thinking that a chinese takeaway sounded perfect. Thanks to Ronald’s most recent support cheque, which was shockingly heavy-handed this month, she had enough for a splurge dinner in her account, as well as enough to cover a utility and set aside a few dozen pounds in Rosie’s savings account. She chalked her daughter’s increased appetite up to a growth spurt, and let the issue slip her mind. 

 

Professor Nott was, uncharacteristically, already in the lecture hall when Hermione got there. 

“Ah, good morning Miss Granger,” he said with a smile that made her knees weak. “And little Rosie, welcome back! I didn’t introduce myself last week—I’m Professor Nott, but you can call me Theo if you’d like.” As he spoke, Professor Nott had indicated for them to sit in Hermione’s usual front-row seats, rather than in the back where she’d hoped Rosie would be out of the way. 

“Hullo, Theo,” Rosie answered, giving him a bashful smile. “Are you my mummy’s teacher?”

“One of them!” Theo said brightly. “I teach chemistry, do you know what that is?”

“It’s the study of the behavior of matter! I was a witch for Halloween this year, my mummy even let me wear makeup!” He laughed at her daughter’s correct answer, her enthusiasm, and her propensity to wildly change the subject at the drop of a hat. 

“That sounds exciting, I’m sure you had a very fun holiday.” Nott smiled at her again, then pulled a medium sized box from his desk drawer. “Well, while your mummy is learning about chemistry today, I thought perhaps you’d like to make a potion with me, using some food dye, glitter, and—”

“GLITTER!” shrieked Rosie, unable to hold in her excitement. “Yesyesyesyesyes pleaseeeeeeee!”

Hermione winced at the volume level of her child, but Professor Nott seemed not to mind. 

“As long as your mummy doesn’t mind, of course. I’ve even got a lab coat that’s just the right size for her, so you needn’t worry about her clothes getting stained.”

“I m-mean,” she stammered. “Of-of course, as long as you don’t mind—”

“How could I mind,” he asked with a soft, sweet expression. It utterly melted her, butterflies back in full force. “Spending time with such a darling child, and giving her lovely mummy the chance to give all her focus to her studies?”

She was speechless. Had he really just called her lovely? 

“Besides, Mr. Malfoy is merely leading the class in revisions for the upcoming final. I’d just be dithering on my laptop anyway.” 

“Thank you so much, Professor, truly,” Hermione couldn’t help but gush a little. In truth, aside from the infrequent visits to see Arthur, there weren’t many men in Rosie’s life that made an effort with her. 

Especially not her father. 

Ron hadn’t actually laid eyes on his daughter since her birthday back in February, and it was nearly Christmas. He hadn’t asked to see her on his birthday, on Father’s Day, nor even for a single afternoon when Hermione suggested they go somewhere for lunch to celebrate Rosie’s admittance to the nursery school in August. 

To see a man—especially one as attractive, considerate, and intelligent as Theodore Nott—interacting with her daughter, well, Hermione felt utterly smitten. 

 

Throughout class, she couldn’t help her wandering eyes. Instead of focusing on the revision packet Draco had passed out, she found her attention almost solely on Theo and Rosie. They were far off to the side, at an otherwise empty table. Rosie was giggling ferociously into her hands at something he said, her pretty strawberry curls bouncing around her shoulders. Theo had removed his tweed jacket and rolled up his light blue shirtsleeves to just below his elbows, revealing—oh fuck—both arms full of tattoos. Occasionally, Rosie would point at one and ask something, to which he’d answer quietly while they made their glitter potion. 

Oh, Hermione was so fucked. 

Toward the end of class, her mobile buzzed in her bag beside her. It was Padma. 

omgggggg how hot is that? bet he’d let you call him daddy 😈

Hermione blushed furiously, unable to answer her friend. Another text came through shortly after. 

i don’t even want kids but i’d let that man fuck a baby into me without a second thought 😩💦🤤

Hermione’s eyes widened in embarrassment, even as her core clenched at the thought of her chemistry professor breeding her. Ugh, that pesky little kink was the reason she’d had Rosie to begin with. She’d gotten smashed at a frat party and had forgotten to take her birth control pill before having unprotected sex with Ron in the middle of the night. That was all it took, one forgotten pill and her whole life changed. 

Hermione would never regret her Rosie Posie, but if she could go back and not sleep with him without a condom, she would. 

“—Miss Granger?” Draco’s voice got her attention, and she quickly locked her phone before he got a look at her screen. 

“What? I’m sorry, I was distracted,” she admitted, cheeks pinking with guilt. 

“I asked if anyone knew the solution to question forty.” His expression was bemused, smirking down at her while she flipped through the worksheets to find their spot. 

“Erm,” Hermione said, eyes scanning the question quickly. Thankfully, chemistry came fairly easy to her, and she knew the answer without needing to write it out longhand. “Sulfuric acid and magnesium are the byproducts in this particular equation.”

“Right. Let’s keep phone conversations to a minimum in the future please, Granger,” Draco said, then added more quietly, “sorry, love,” and winked at her. She rolled her eyes and kept solving the packet questions, not catching the glowering expression from her professor in the corner. 

 

“Mummy, lookit!” 

Class had just concluded. It had been extended by forty minutes to cover everything in their revision packets, since they were officially done with labs until the final exam next week. Friday was meant to be the same, as well. 

Hermione peered at Rosie as she weaved through students comin down to ask Draco and Professor Nott questions, holding an hourglass-looking container full of pink liquid and golden glitter. 

“Oh how lovely, Rosie!” she cooed, taking it in hand to inspect. It looked like a mixture of oil and water and microglitter. They’d even wrapped it in several strands of pink and yellow ribbon. “Were you polite for Professor Theo?”

“Yes, Mummy,” Rosie answered at the same time Nott sauntered over, saying, “she was a star pupil, terribly good at following directions.”

Hermione beamed at her daughter. She took great pride in the knowledge that Rosie was a polite, sweet, well-behaved little girl. 

“I’d expect nothing less when her mummy is just as perfect.” She felt her cheeks darken at his words; his tone sent shivers down her spine, and she imagined him calling her perfect while she rode him hard and slow. 

“Uh-oh,” Rosie’s little voice pulled her attention back to the room, and when she peered down at her daughter, it was apparent she’d had another accident. A small puddle was forming under the girl’s trainer-clad feet. Her eyes filled with tears that began to fall in big, fat drops. “I’m sorry Mummy!”

“Oh, bugger,” Hermione muttered, dropping down to Rosie’s height. “Hey, that’s alright, darling. Accidents happen, Mummy is right here. Let’s find a loo and get you tidied up, hmm?”

Rosie only sniffled pitifully in response. 

“You’re welcome to my lav, again,” Professor Nott offered, sincerity shining in his gorgeous eyes. “Here, I’ve got a spare towel in the desk, why don’t you give me your bags and wrap her in the towel, and we’ll walk to my office together.”

 

Hermione thanked him profusely as they made their way to his office. Once there, he handed her Rosie’s diaper bag, and settled into his desk chair while they made use of his loo. 

“Here we go, luvie, let’s peel these wet clothes off you, yeah?” Hermione murmured even as Rosie continued to sniffle and whimper. “That’s a girl, shh, please don’t cry Rosie Posie. It was just a little accident, Mummy isn’t mad.” She slipped off her shoes and socks, then the damp leggings and knickers. To Hermione’s dismay, it also appeared that she’d managed to get a patch on the hem of her top, too. With a sigh, she directed her daughter’s arms up and pulled it over her head, mindful of the urine spot. 

“Right then, do you feel like you’ve got to wee again? Perhaps you’d better sit on the potty while Mummy finds your spare clothes,” Hermione suggested. Rosie didn’t answer, just stood on the towel and peered down at her tiny toes with a distressed expression. 

The clothes in her diaper bag weren’t familiar, and Hermione remembered that Molly had supplied them. 

Unfortunately, they didn’t bloody fit. 

“Buggering hell,” she cursed, sneering at the image of Molly Weasley in her head. “Daft woman, didn’t even bother to check the bloody size.” The shirt was at least two sizes under Rosie’s current measurements, and while the shorts might have stretched over her little bum, they were far too short for winter apparel. 

“Everything alright in there, ladies?” Theo’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. 

“Just bloody perfect,” Hermione answered sarcastically. “Rosie’s grandmum has just left us with nothing appropriate to wear. I’ll have to dress her in my jumper, I suppose. At least there’s more than one pair of knickers in here.” She shimmied her darling girl into a new pair of knickers and had begun to strip off her jumper to roll the sleeves when he spoke again. 

“Erm, this might sound absolutely mad, but I’ve got a child’s size 5 vest and athletic shorts she can wear. My ex wife’s sister’s son plays basketball with me a few times a month, and I always make sure to keep a spare set of clothes on-hand.”

Christ, the things Hermione wanted to do to this man. She had never considered she might have a competency kink before being introduced to Theodore Nott. But holy hell, the man was just perfect. 

“That is so unbelievably wonderful, Professor, thank you,” she said after tucking Rosie behind the door and opening it up a crack to him. He was smiling down awkwardly, holding the clothes in one hand and running the other through his hair. “You’ve been an absolute life-saver.”

“Please, Hermione,” he replied, and she felt the gusset of her knickers flood at the sound of her first name on his lips. “It’s no trouble, I’m glad to be able to help. And please,” he added. “Call me Theo.”

Notes:

Y’all this is about to get fucking filthy, are you ready?

Chat with me on Insta @willamalfoywrites !

As always kudos and comments make me do a stupid little happy dance that my kids find hilarious.

Chapter 3

“Miss Granger, would you stay behind for a moment?” Professor Nott called from his desk in the lecture hall. Theo, she corrected. He asked her to call him Theo, and she had agreed readily. 

The rest of the class filed out of the room, Lisa and Padma lingering only a moment longer to give Hermione cheeky winks. They knew about her crush-bordering-on-obsession with their chemistry professor, and never missed the chance to needle her mercilessly for it. She rolled her eyes and waved them off before shouldering her book bag and descending the shallow steps toward him. 

“Yes, sir?” Her voice was purposefully breathy and eager, having previously noted how his pupils dilated whenever she used the honorific. “Is something the matter?”

“Yes, in fact,” Theo replied, gesturing to the packet of papers atop his desk. “I admit, I was less than impressed by your final research project. It had some glaringly large holes in your theorems and it affected the final conclusion.”

“Oh no,” Hermione said, worrying her lip and furrowed her brow delicately. “I’m so sorry, Professor, I’m not sure how—”

He cut her off with a hand in the air. “You’ve been distracted, Hermione, it’s quite understandable. Balancing school and work with mothering is surely an arduous task, but I can see how hard you’ve been trying.” She was close to tears now, because he’s described precisely what had been plaguing her as of late. She loved Rosie so much, but it had been so hard the last month, especially. 

“Oh, yes sir! I’ve been so distracted, but please—if you’ll let me revise the assignment, I promise I’ll—”

“Breathe, darling.” Hermione hadn’t noticed how Theo had risen from his chair and come around the desk to where she stood, until his thick, strong arms were crushing her to his torso in a tight hug. Shocked into stillness for a moment, she allowed herself to breathe in the woodsy scent of his cologne before tentatively reciprocating the embrace. “You needn’t worry about revisions. That wasn’t why I asked you to stay.”

“O-oh,” she answered dumbly. It was then that she felt his hands trail down the curve of her spine, coming to rest briefly on her bum before she was suddenly hoisted up and set down on the top of the desk. Her legs wrapped instinctively around Theo’s hips, and she could feel the length of his pressed against her center. Hermione had opted to wear a skirt and no stockings to class today, and to her embarrassment, it was quite obvious through the thin material of her knickers that she was desperately aroused. 

“You’re soaked, baby,” Theo muttered, voice husky with desire of his own. Hermione’s eyes widened at his naughty words, but he just kept going. “Is this all for me?”

Hermione bit her lip before looking up at him through her lashes and nodding. He groaned and ground himself harder against her core.

“Ohh, fuck!” she keened, eyes fluttering. Theo reached between them and found her clit easily; tiny sparks crackled within her nervous system as he thumbed it gently. 

“That’s it,” Theo cooed, applying more pressure while his thumb circled her over the gusset of her knickers. Her eyes shut again, causing him to stop his ablutions abruptly. “Look at me, Hermione.”

She whined at the loss, forcing her eyes back up to his. They were dark and shone with a knowing glint. His fingers resumed their ministrations, creeping under the little scalloped edge of her knickers and sliding wetly through her lips. 

“Oh, God, Theo,” Hermione mewled, canting her hips up to encourage his finger to slip into her. Theo, however, tutted and continued teasing her slowly. “Please!” He chuckled, leaning his head down until their noses were brushing against each other. “Please what, baby?”

“M-more, pleaseeeee!” 

Professor Nott whispered in her ear that he loved hearing her beg him, and then bent down to lick a stripe up her neck. It should have felt wonderful; Hermione’s neck was terribly sensitive. But his tongue was coarse and dry. He continued to lave her neck with little licks, and it was distracting enough that the desire she’d only just been flushed with was quickly cooling off. 

“Theo, that, erm, doesn’t feel very nice,” she said awkwardly.

“Meow,” Theo answered, pulling away and tilting his head. 

“Are you alright?” she then asked with a frown.

“Meowwwwwww!”

Hermione blinked, and where Professor Nott had been only a moment before, Crookshanks now was. The cat was sitting on her chest, mewing loudly for his breakfast. Her neck was tender from his sandpaper tongue, and the pooled arousal between her thighs was already an uncomfortable nuisance. 

Hell of a wake-up, she thought as she gently shoved Crooks off her and rose for the day. 

 

Hermione had dropped Rosie off at the Weasley’s yesterday afternoon after school, having made sure her bag was stuffed with well-fitting clothes. She’d even refrained from expressing her irritation at Molly’s short-sightedness with the spare items. 

Wednesday went by in a haze of classes, coffee, and revision work with Padma, Pansy, and Lisa. They sat in the coffee shop while they quizzed one another on their various subjects, though the conversation devolved to talk of Professor Nott. 

“Theeee-oooo!” Padma crooned in a sing-song voice. The girls dissolved into peals of giggles at Hermione’s immediate blush. “God, have you ever had a professor that was even half as hot as him?”

“Definitely not,” Pansy grumbled. “I should have taken chemistry instead of earth sciences. Professor Slughorn spits when he lectures.”

That sent the girls into another round of laughter, ignoring the pointed glares of the group of older gentlemen at the table next to them. 

“And he’s sooo good with Rosie,” Lisa added once the giggles had subsided. “I mean, when was the last time Ron even saw Rosie Posie?”

“I expect she’ll see him this week while she’s at Molly’s,” Hermione answered. “Unless Lavender has started doing his washing for him, that is.”

Pansy sneered. “Bloody useless twat, still has Mummy cleaning his clothes.”

Before she could answer, Hermione’s mobile buzzed in her back pocket. It was an email from Theo. 

‘Hermione,

I’ve prepared a little packet for Rosie to do during class on Friday. Please let me know what her favourite crisp flavour is, as well.

It occurred to me that email is perhaps not the easiest method of communication, so I’ve attached my personal mobile number for your convenience. 

I look forward to seeing you both,

Theo’

She read and reread his email, cheeks darkening at the use of her name as well as his obvious care for her daughter. Just the thought of him had her knickers damp. 

“Oh, he so wants to fuck you,” Padma gushed, having read his message over her shoulder. Hermione shook her head and typed out a response using the number he’d provided. 

Hermione: ‘I’m afraid Rosie will be with her grandmum until the weekend, but I’m so grateful for your kindness. 

I’m also looking forward to class; thank you again for yesterday—I’ll bring the clothes back on Thursday clean and folded.

(Our favourite crisps are cheese and onion, by the way)’

Only a minute passed between her reply and his text. 

Theo Nott 🥵: ‘Well, at least one gorgeous Granger girl will be in attendance. Have a good night, Hermione.’

The curly-haired girl showed her friends the text and the girlish giggles were renewed. 

 

Theo and Hermione texted periodically throughout Thursday morning, and she didn’t even feel guilty for letting her mind wander during classes. There was no denying the man was flirting with her, though it wasn’t immediately clear what exactly he wanted. She would take what she could get from him, though, eagerly and with pleasure. 

Just as she had on Wednesday, Hermione attempted to contact Molly to speak with Rosie; she missed her little girl terribly, and couldn’t shake the little voice in the back of her mind that something was wrong. She even texted Ronald, hoping he had spent even a little bit of time with his daughter. He never answered, but Molly had called Thursday evening and said they had spent most of the day at a petting farm and that Rosie had had so much fun she passed out almost as soon as they arrived home. Before Hermione hung up, she made Molly promise to have Rosie give her a call on Friday after class. 

 

Hermione spent her evening on her sofa in front of the telly with a bottle of Chardonnay and a packet of crisps. It was rare she was able to watch adult programmes, and was indulging in one of her favorite irreverent comedy series, Ghosts. She probably should have been revising, but couldn’t help but take one night for herself before finals turned her brain to pudding. 

Doom-scrolling Instagram combined with the half bottle of wine she’d already guzzled down was delightfully brain-numbing, but when the banner popped up at the top of her screen with Professor Nott’s name, she didn’t hesitate.

Theo Nott 🥵: Sorry to bother you so late, but I need you to settle an argument for me. 

She bit her lip to hide her smile. It was only half nine, and she told him so. 

Hermione: Nonsense, I’m just vegging on the couch with some wine and Ghosts. 😇 What is the argument? 

Theo Nott 🥵: When is the correct time to put up Christmas decorations? 

Theo Nott 🥵: Sounds like a cozy night in… how much wine have you had, Hermione?

Hermione: Probably too much to be texting you, I’m sure I’ll say something I’ll regret come class tomorrow, but I can’t seem to stop myself. 🙈

Hermione: Oh, and the correct answer is November 12. That’s when my mum and dad always brought down the fake tree and put out the festive tea towels.

Theo Nott 🥵: I agree with that—enjoying the lights and music and colours for as long as possible is the best part of the season. 

Theo Nott 🥵: I’m sure your cheeks look adorable all flushed and pink from your wine, pretty girl. 

Hermione: 😊 Kinda wish you were here to see for yourself. 

Theo Nott 🥵: Me too, Hermione. God, so much.

She was grinning like mad now, heart beating wildly behind her breast. She was halfway through typing something much bolder than sober-her would ever have the courage to say to her professor when he texted again. 

Theo Nott 🥵: I can’t believe I’m asking, but please, sweet girl, won’t you show me your lovely face?

Theo Nott 🥵: You can send it through Snapchat, if you’d prefer.

With trembling hands, Hermione fumbled to set her wine glass down and open her camera. She was lounging in nothing but a little cream vest with pink colored rosettes adorning the material, along with tiny pink knickers and fuzzy socks, hair loose around her shoulders. Her nipples were peaked from Theo’s words and the slight chill of the room, and her eyes were bright and glossy in the ring of light that lit up the screen as she snapped the photo. 

Before she could rethink the decision, she sent the photo along to his Snapchat account that had shown up in her app earlier that day. 

Theo answered within moments of opening the photo, though she noticed with slight disappointment that he didn’t screenshot it. 

Theo Nott 🥵: FUCK, princess. I could just eat you up.

Hermione: I think I might let you, Professor. 😮‍💨

Theo Nott: You’re just a pretty little tease, aren’t you, darling? You’ve made me so hard, and I can’t even do anything about it while I’m out at the pub.

Hermione moaned at the thought of his cock stiff and weeping behind the placket of his trousers while enjoying an evening out with whomever he’d been drinking with. 

Hermione: Theoooooo 😩😩 I’m sooo wet, it’s unbearable.

The three dots signifying Theo was replying popped up and disappeared a few times, then went away entirely. She suddenly felt terribly worried that she’d gone too far, and went to take it back somehow. 

But then, her phone rang. And it was Theo. 

She answered, and immediately could hear the loud background noise of a pub. It was getting quieter every moment, though.

“H-hello?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

“Are you touching yourself, Hermione?” Theo’s voice was low and gravelly; he sounded so sexy she could hardly stand it. 

“N-no, Professor,” she answered honestly. Her fingers had, however, been trailing lightly over her collarbone, tempted to explore the soft planes of her body. 

“How do you know you’re wet, then, darling?”

“I’ve… I’ve soaked through my knickers, sir.”

Theo groaned on the other end; she imagined his eyes closing behind his posh specs, brow furrowing in delicious frustration at her words. 

“Would you, if I asked?” he whispered. “Touch yourself for me, I mean.”

Hermione bit her lip as she felt the edges of her mouth curl upwards into a grin. “Yes,” she breathed. 

“Are you still sitting on your couch, princess?”

“Mmmm,” she agreed, eyes fluttering shut as she let her fingers graze a nipple. 

“If you’d be more comfortable in bed, you should go there now,” Theo said, and Hermione could hear the want dripping from his words. “Christ, I’d give anything to carry you there myself.”

“Oh, yessss,” she hissed, plucking at the stiffened peak as she rose to make her way to her bedroom. 

“Where are your hands, Hermione? Because I don’t believe I instructed you to touch yourself just yet, sweet girl.” She immediately removed her hand from her breast, pussy clenching around nothing at his authoritative tone. “Let me know when you’re settled into your duvet, darling.” 

Hermione raced to her bedroom, mobile dangling loosely from the pop socket between her fingers. Before she launched herself onto her bed, she quickly lit the vanilla scented candle on her side table. The duvet was soft and cool against the expanse of her flushed skin, settling the intense heat that fluttered just underneath.

“I’m—I’m in bed, Professor,” she finally murmured, having placed the phone on the pillow and turned the speaker on. 

“Hermione,” he replied, tsking lightly. “I thought I asked you to call me Theo. I need to hear my name fall from those perfect lips when you beg me to let you come.”

She let out a keening whine and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“I’m sorry, Th-Theo,” she whispered. “But please—please, I want to touch.”

Theo chuckled into the phone, and frissons of want went straight to her clit. She was so sensitive, surely the lightest stroke would send her careening over the edge. 

“Patience, sweet girl,” he said. “Are you still dressed in those precious knickers and vest?”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

“I’d like for you to leave the knickers on for now, but take the top off for me.”

Hermione trailed her hands down her sides and slowly peeled the vest from her body, exposing her breasts to the open air. 

“Do you want another photo, Theo?” she asked, letting the tips of her fingers graze the soft skin of her sternum. 

“No, little girl,” he answered, though his resolve sounded weak. “I’d much rather see your perfect tits for the first time in person. I think I’d go utterly mad if I had to look and not touch.”

She giggled, and awaited his next words. 

“I want you to touch yourself, while I tell you exactly what I’d like to do to you if given half a chance. Can you be a good girl for me and play with those pretty tits, Hermione?”

“Yessssss,” she hissed, finally allowing herself to take a nipple between her fingers and roll. She imagined it was Theo’s large hands instead, and let out a desperate groan that he reciprocated into the receiver. “Oh God, Theo, I need you!”

“You make the sweetest little sounds for me, darling. I’m eager to learn how you sound when my tongue is buried in your perfect pussy.”

“Hngggg, yesss I want that,” she mewled, squeezing her tit more firmly with one hand. 

“Feel yourself over the gusset of your knickers, precious girl,” Theo said, voice heavy on the other side of the phone. Hermione vaguely wondered how long he’d be able to keep himself excused from the evening’s activities, but all thoughts vanished the moment her fingers brushed against the utterly soaked material of her knickers. 

“Oh, fuck,” she wailed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet, Theo. Please, I need— I need to—”

“I know what you need, Hermione,” he cut her off. “You need my cock inside you, hmm? Would that make it all better, baby?”

“Yesss please, I can’t—”

“Pet that little clit for me, sweet girl,” Theo commanded, interrupting her pleas. “Under your knickers. Gently now, and let me know if you feel like you’re going to come.”

She whined in protest, but obeyed. Hermione slipped her right hand underneath the elastic waistband of her tiny knickers and expertly found her clit. The first soft connection had shivers of pleasure running up her spine and down to her toes. The next one nearly had her sobbing with need. She didn’t think she could manage a third; her orgasm was so close.

“I’m so hard, baby,” Theo crooned, his voice smooth and desperately arousing. 

“I’m so close, I need to come, pleaseeee,” Hermione begged, lightly tapping on her clit to experience little sparks of unfiltered desire. Her body felt like a live wire; thoughts of how she’d feel once actually underneath the man only fueled the fire. 

“Not yet baby, hold out for me just a little longer,” he commanded gently. “I bet you’ll sound so pretty when you come. Everything you do is pretty, Hermione.” She moaned, the sound breaking as she pressed a little more firmly against her clit. God, her pussy clenched wildly, desperate for something to hold onto when she came. 

“Oh God, Theo, pleaseeee, I need you so badly I can’t stand it. I want your fingers and tongue and cock and—”

“Beg me again, Hermione,” Theo groaned. “Beg me to let come come, I need to hear it again baby.”

Hermione began to babble, desperate for release. 

“Please, please let me come, Theo. I need to come so bad, please. Please Daddy, I—” 

Her voice hitched as she realized exactly what she’d just said, but she didn’t even have time to feel an iota of embarrassment because Theo gave a guttural moan and said, “Oh, good girl, darling. Come for me now, come for Daddy, baby.”

And she did. 

The force of her orgasm made fireworks explode behind her squeezed-shut eyelids. She was aware she was making noise, but the ringing in her ears drowned even her own voice out. 

It was several long moments before the rushing sound faded out, and she could hear Theo’s voice clearly through the phone once more. 

“—so perfect for me, baby—”

“—come in my trousers, like a bloody—”

“Hermione, darling? Are you still there?”

She panted out an affirmative, head still pounding from the sheer size of her orgasm. Theo laughed lightly on the other end.

“Rest now, sweet girl. Dream of me,” he murmured softly. 

“G’night,” she mumbled, lips slightly numb and thoughts hazy. 

Hermione was asleep before the call ended

Notes:

lol oops, chapter count went up (are we surprised?)

Chapter 4

Notes:

Content warning: mentions/descriptions of child abuse, both physical and mental. No actual abuse occurs in the chapter.

You may have noticed the chapter count has gone up. This is because I hadn’t realized how much angst we’d need to get through, and it took up the whole chapter. Don’t worry, the next chapter will be fluffy and smutty and perfect 🤩

Miraculously, Hermione had no hangover when she woke. 

Unfortunately, it was the best sleep she had gotten in months. Without Rosie to wake her, and thanks to the late-night orgasm, she hadn’t remembered to set her alarm or put on a bonnet. She wasn’t at all looking forward to dealing with what was sure to be an utter mess.  With less than an hour before she needed to be on campus for class, she hastily made her way to the loo to brush her teeth and attempt a flattering hairstyle. There wasn’t time to pick through it, so Hermione ultimately settled on tossing it up into a (very) messy bun. 

At least, she thought to herself as she pulled on an arse-hugging pair of jeans, she’d had time to do her dirty laundry. 

Last night’s events played in a loop in her head while she drove to campus, causing her knickers to grow damp before she’d even laid eyes on her chemistry professor. Part of her couldn’t believe she’d been so bold, even with the bottle of wine. Hermione was equal parts excited and nervous to see him; what if he flirted with her openly in class, or worse, what if he acted like it hadn’t happened? 

She was so wrapped up in her own spiraling thoughts that she didn’t even see the dark green Beamer blow through the intersection until it nearly collided with her; she was able to swerve at the last moment to avoid a collision, but had, most unfortunately, driven herself into a snowbank on the edge of the road. 

“Fucking—shitting—bollocks!” Hermione cried, gulping large breaths of air in an effort to calm her panic. Her heart was beating in her throat, brain scrambling to understand what the fuck had just happened. The Beamer had driven off, rich prick, but there was someone approaching her vehicle. 

“Hermione?” asked a shocked voice, and when she focused on the stranger’s face, she realized it was no stranger at all. 

“Theo!” Professor Nott stood just outside Hermione’s driver side door, wrapped up in a charcoal peacoat, a green and silver scarf around his neck.. 

“Are you alright? I happened to be at the intersection when that bastard ran the light. Thank God you managed to avoid him.”

“Yes, I’m—I’m fine. Just, you know, a bit flustered.” Theo relaxed somewhat.

“What—what on earth are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head. 

He smiled sheepishly, white teeth flashing in the weak winter sun. “I was, ah, running a little late this morning.”

“Oh!” Hermione felt the blush creep forward. “Yes, erm, me too.” She unbuckled her seatbelt then, and he opened her car door so she could exit the vehicle. 

The damage wasn’t terribly extensive, but the engine had begun smoking and her bumper would surely rip off if she attempted to reverse out of the snowdrift. 

“Fuck,” she muttered, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes in frustration. 

“Hey, it’ll be alright. We’ll call for a tow truck, and I can give you a ride to class.” Theo’s voice was soothing, and it did help her anxiety to lessen. “Not to fret, sweet girl. It’s a good job I was here, hmm? It’ll all be fine.”

 

Half an hour later, Theo was ushering Hermione into the passenger seat of his Bentley. The interior smelled like a mix of expensive leather and his own scent blend of vanilla and tobacco. 

Her phone buzzed in her hand, but she ignored it. It was definitely one of her friends, since she’d shot off an incredulous ‘guess what just happened to me?!’ text to the group chat along with a photo of her little sedan being loaded onto the AA truck.

“I didn’t know a professor's salary could afford this,” she needled good-naturedly once he was settled into the driver’s seat. Theo rolled his eyes before reaching over her to buckle her seatbelt. Hermione’s heart was pounding fiercely, overwhelmed by his sudden invasion of her personal space. God, he just smelled so nice. 

“Cheeky thing,” he answered, buckling his own and taking off down the road. “My parents have money; this is the one and only ‘luxury’ I’ve spent my trust on since my mid-twenties.”

Prior to her parents cutting her off, she’d lived a fairly well-off lifestyle. As dentists, they could afford a nice large house in Hampton Gardens; she’d gone to a posh boarding school, and they’d even paid for her first year of uni. Most of the tuition was covered through hard-won scholarships, but still. It was more than many of her other friends in school had. 

Still, Hermione could recognize real wealth. Monumental, inimaginable wealth. Pansy, for instance, came from money, though it was her father that had made it, not her grand or great-grandfather. 

Theodore Nott was obviously the product of generations of rich aristocrats marrying other rich aristocrats. 

The drive was filled with amiable small talk, mostly about Rosie and Hermione’s hobbies. He was less than surprised to learn of her immense interest in classic literature, but was thrown for a loop when she mentioned she had been an accomplished cellist during her teenage years. 

“I sold it to cover the deposit for my flat when Rosie was born,” she explained when he questioned why she no longer played. “It was difficult to let go of, but I’d do anything for my girl.”

“I imagine so,” Theo replied softly, using that pitying tone that she absolutely hated. 

Before she could express the sentiment, though, they’d arrived at school. He parked in his designated spot, reserved for tenure professors. 

“Right, I’ve got a few bits of paperwork I need to print off before class,” he said after unbuckling her and opening the car door for her. Such a gentleman, she thought with a flutter. “Have you any classes after chemistry today?”

“Erm, I usually have Ancient Civ with Miner—I mean, Professor McGonagall, but she cancelled the last week since her dig in Northern Ireland was getting ‘interesting’.”

“I have an afternoon class, but Mr. Malfoy will likely be leading the revisions, so I’m free to take you to the auto mechanic shop and find out the status of your car.”

“Oh, that’s not—I mean, you needn’t—” Hermione tried to protest but Theo quirked his brow. 

“Won't you take the clip out of your hair, baby girl? I adore when it’s wild around your shoulders.” And then, he was stalking away, leaving her in a haze of cologne and arousal. 

 

Padma, Pansy, and Lisa were all waiting in the entryway, practically rabid. 

“You cannot just leave us hanging, Granger!” Pansy shouted, arms crossed as the curly haired girl approached the horde. “What the hell happened to your car?”

“God, Pansy, keep your voice down,” Lisa elbowed the dark haired girl in the ribs with an eye roll. “How did you get to class? I didn’t think you had any rideshare apps.”

“I don’t,” Hermione confessed, hiking her book bag higher on her shoulder. The four of them began the walk to their classes and she filled them in on the entertaining night before, all the way through her eventful morning. 

“And after class, he’s giving me a lift to the mechanic to see about my car.”

Her friends had pulled her into a loo on the way to class after having heard about the truly delicious phone sex. 

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Padma groaned, scrubbing a hand over her face. “If anyone deserves this, it’s definitely you.”

“Professor Nott is handsome, rich, and great with kids,” Pansy agreed. “You hit the fucking jackpot, you lucky slag.”

Just then, Hermione’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Theo. 

Theo Nott 🥵: Thinking of you and those pretty little noises you made for me last night. Your perfume got me hard and there’s nothing I can do about it. 

She blushed, quickly typing out a reply before her friends could see his naughty words. 

Hermione: maybe I can help you with that after class, daddy 😉 on my knees, under your desk while you read some of that erotic poetry to me

Theo Nott 🥵: Goddamn, little girl. You’ll be the death of me.

“C’mon,” she muttered, willing the blush on her cheeks to vanish before anyone saw. “We’re going to be late.”

 

That day’s revision was a mock-exam, with Draco presiding over the class and Theo at his desk on the lecture hall’s platform. Hermione’s mobile buzzed periodically through the block, but she focused on her packet. She did not want Draco to call her out in front of the whole class again. 

The two hour block was torturous; her mind kept drifting to Theo and his absolutely filthy mouth. Her knickers had soaked through ages ago, and now she sat, somewhat uncomfortably, with her legs crossed in an effort to soothe the ache. Thankfully, she was well-versed in the material, and didn’t need to keep her full attention on it like she would if she was in Snape’s calculus class.

Still, her daydreams of her chemistry professor were getting somewhat out of hand. Hermione imagined sucking his cock while his fingers threaded in her curls, guiding her mouth over him, until he came down her throat. She thought about his hands, and how it might feel for them to press bruises into her hips and around her throat as he pushed his cock into her roughly. She bit her lip as visions of his brown curls, streaked with salt and pepper, between her thighs as he enthusiastically buried his tongue in her cunt.

God, she was glad mind-reading was impossible. 

 

Class finally wrapped up, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that Minerva deemed the excavation of ancient artifacts more important than a lecture about Celtic prehistory.

Padma, who had opted to sit beside her friend in the front row today, began shoving her notepad and highlighters into her bag.

“Lisa mentioned you were getting together tonight,” she said casually. “Is that still on, d’you reckon, or will you be ghosting her in favor of…” Padma’s head jerked toward Theo where he still sat at his desk, looking over some papers. Hermione rolled her eyes, packing her own bag up. Most of the class was quick to clear out, though Draco was still a table over on his laptop.

“Honestly Pads,” she said. “You lot are incorrigible. Yes, Lisa is still coming over tonight. You can come too, but only if you bring over your mum’s really good paneer and naan.”

Padma grinned, straight white teeth bright against the lovely russet of her skin.

“Deal!” 

Padma bumped Hermione’s hip with her own before leaving to make it to her next class. The curly haired girl rolled her eyes again, then pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket. There were a slew of text messages, mostly from Theo, but her attention was diverted to a few texts and one missed phone call from Ronald.

Ronald never called.

Ron 🙄: smthg wrong w/ rosy

Ron 🙄: Mione, srsly idk whats wrng

Ron 🙄: plz u need 2 come get her, mum is worried the other kids r gonna get sick

Ron 🙄: why r u ignoring me?? Rosy needs 2 go home. call me back!

Ron 🙄: blimey Mione i’m takin her to a&e, she’s got a fever of 104

“Fuck!” Hermione exclaimed, immediately trying Ron’s mobile and receiving no answer. His last text had been halfway through the class block, while she had been thinking dirty thoughts about her blood chemistry professor. “Fuck, fuc, fuck.” She called her ex once more with no success.

“Hermione?” Theo’s voice had her eyes on him, but her pulse was racing and her vision grew spotty in her panic. “What’s wrong, precious?”

If Draco thought the professor’s use of a pet name was inappropriate, he prudently kept his mouth shut.

“It’s Rosie—well, I’ve had some messages and calls from my ex. She’s running a fever and he’s taking her to A&E, but I don’t know which one. Oh, God, oh my God, oh—my—God—” Hermione had begun to hyperventilate as she desperately tried to find Molly’s number through blurred vision.

“Jesus,” Theo muttered, or maybe exclaimed; Hermione could scarcely hear over the roaring of blood in her ears.

“I—n-need to c-call M-Molly,” she stammered through gasping breaths. Finally, she found the correct contact and pressed CALL.

It rang twice before going directly to voicemail. When she tried again, it rang only nice before Molly’s voicemail greeting bleated in her ear.

“Goddammit, goddammit!” In her panic, Hermione hadn’t even realized she was shouldering her bag and racing toward the exit. “Oh, bugger, my car!”

“Hermione—wait!” Theo’s command fell on deaf ears, but he quickly caught up to her and pulled her into his sweater-clad chest.

“Breathe, sweet girl, you need to breathe,” he whispered. His arms held tight, and the pressure of his embrace worked to slowly reduce her heart rate and dry her tears. “Draco is calling hospitals right now, we’ll find out where Rosie is and get there as soon as we can. Please, sweet girl, please try and calm down.”

She glared up at him, but there was no true malice in it.

“Theo, I’m s-so bloody scared,” she whispered, then buried her face back in his chest. She breathed in the scent of his cologne and let it soothe her frayed nerves.

“London A&E confirmed a Rose Granger has just been admitted,” Draco announced, having suddenly appeared beside them. “They wouldn't give me any more information, as I'm not family, but she’s there.”

Hermione’s relief was palpable, but she couldn’t let herself relax entirely. Not until she could see her daughter with her own two eyes.

 

For being Friday midday, the A&E bay was surprisingly empty.

Hermione allowed Theo to drag her along, his large hand enveloping hers in warmth and comfort. The nurse at the admin desk looked up with a twisted frown before her eyes lit up at the sight of the attractive man.

“May I assist you, sir?” she asked, batting her lashes. If Hermione hadn’t even so distraught and on edge, she might have scoffed at the blatant behavior.

“Yes, could you please point us in the direction of Rose Granger? She was admitted only an hour ago; this is her mother.”

The nurse smiled saccharinely, but her eyes were cold when she landed them on their entwined fingers. “Of course, straight away Mr. Granger.” To her surprise, Theo didn’t correct the nurse’s assumption. After a small search on the computer, they had the room number.

The pair made their way up to the pediatric floor. As soon as they arrived at Rosie’s room, Hermione was met with a desperate-looking Ronald and an irritated looking Lavender.

Ron’s arms immediately came around her, crushing her to his chest. She was struck by how uncomfortable she felt in his embrace.

“Fuck, Hermione—I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve been so busy with work, I meant to get ‘round to mum’s two bloody days ago, but thing just kept coming up,” he sobbed, and she felt something wet soaking her shoulder. He was crying, she realized lamely. “I d-din’t know, Mione, I swear.”

Hermione pulled back, blood chilling as it pumped through her veins.

“Didn’t know what, Ronald?” Her voice was cold, too. She didn’t wait for his explanation, instead breezing past him to get to Rosie.

The little girl lay on the hospital cot, terribly pale and quite a bit thinner than she had been when she’d dropped her off with Molly. Her eyes were purple from exhaustion, lips dry and cracked, and her usually curly hair limp and matted. The hospital gown, which was patterned with cheery ducklings and frogs, hung on her little frame loosely.

Hermione stifled the first sob, but couldn’t quite catch the second, especially when she felt Theo’s warm hand on her shoulder.

“Oh my God, my baby,” she whimpered, reaching out to her daughter before recoiling.

All along Rosie’s arms, on her wrists, neck, and shoulders, were ugly bruises. Mottled red, purple, blue, and even some partially healed green and yellow spots adorned her poor daughter’s skin.

“Mum said she fell out of the tree in the backyard,” Ron offered lamely. Hermione turned and rounded on him, smacking his face before he could defend the bitch he called Mother again.

“Falling from a tree wouldn’t make marks like that, you fucking idiot,” she hissed. “Falling from a tree wouldn’t explain her fever, or the fact that she’s clearly starving and dehydrated!”

“Ronnie brought her to the hospital, you foul bitch!” Lavender exclaimed, her face snarling viciously as she stepped up to Hermione. “Don’t put your slaggy hands on him again, or you’ll be needing a cot for yourself!”

Hermione was just itching to put the blonde in her place, but Theo spoke up.

“I think it would be best if you left, miss,” he said simply. “Hermione’s daughter, who has so clearly been terribly hurt, should not hear any of this. She’s obviously suffered an ordeal, and needs quiet and calm to heal.”

“And just who the bloody hell are you, anyway?” Ron demanded harshly.

“This is Theo,” Hermione said quietly. “He’s one of my professors; he drove me here since I was in a wreck this morning and my car’s in the shop.”

“And why would he do that for you, huh?” Ron asked, tone dripping with insinuation. “Fucking your way to a passing grade, is that it?”

“You’ve no right—” Hermione began to protest, but Theo spoke over her.

“Hermione is a bright, kind woman that has no need to sleep with anyone for a grade. If you speak that way about the mother of your child again, I promise you won’t be able to speak poorly about anyone for a good long while.” He cracked his knuckles to prove his point.

“Just go, Ronald,” Hermione muttered bitterly. “Take Lavender and leave me and my daughter alone.”

Ron looked like he wanted to argue, but his eyes drifted behind them to Rosie, and then he deflated, slumping in defeat. Lavender began furiously whispering in the ginger’s ear, but he just shook his head.

“Right,” he said finally. “I’ll, erm, call later for an update?”

Hermione scoffed. “Sure, Ron.” 

The couple left, and a heavy silence fell over the room. She wished she was surprised by Ron’s behavior, but she just wasn’t. She was too tired; burnt out, barely making her life work, and coming apart at the seams. God but she was just so tired. She never should have trusted Molly with her daughter; the woman had some sort of grudge or vendetta against Hermione, and it was clear that she’d go to any length to hurt her.

Rosie’s IV machine beeped occasionally, but nobody spoke as Hermione settled into the chair beside the cot. Theo stood beside her, leaned against the wall with his hand resting on her shoulder. 

 

Before long, a nurse came into the room, accompanied by a man with unkempt black hair wearing a police uniform. He looked desperately uncomfortable, and very familiar.

“You must be Rosie’s mum,” the nurse said kindly. She had bubblegum pink hair and her face was kind. “I’m Nurse Dora, I did her intake paperwork. I’m not usually in peds, but I wanted to come up and give her a little check while the shift change has the others tied up.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said softly, not taking her eyes off the prone form of her daughter.

“And you are?” Theo asked politely, if a little stiffly, to the Bobby. 

“Erm, I’m Officer Potter; when the hospital admitted Rose, they called the station to report her condition. They dispatched me, but erm, well I do already know—”

“You’re Ginny’s husband,” Hermne realized out loud. “Ron’s brother in law.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them again.

“So, you’ll be calling for another officer, yes?” Theo asked impatiently. She could hear the frown in his voice. “As Rose’s uncle through marriage, there is a conflict of interest that needs sorting before anyone can say that evidence was mishandled and interviews biased.”

“Y-yes, of course. Another officer has already been dispatched, but,” Theo squeezed Hermione’s shoulder before abruptly leaving the room, mobile already up to his ear. “I, erm, I wanted to ask you… well, really, Gin wanted me to ask you, erm, to not press charges against Molly. She said it was a misunderstanding, that Rose was being, erm, well that she was misbehaving and Molly was only protecting the other kids.”

Nurse Dora blasphemed under her breath. Hermone’s mouth hung open at Potter’s words, but before she could answer, Theo had already swept back into the room.

“Officer Potter, you may go now. There is no universe where that request is appropriate or at all helpful.”

Rosie stirred then, her little brow furrowing as Dora checked her temperature.

“Temp is nearly back to normal; the fluids definitely helped. I think she is probably safe to have soft solids, but we’ll wait for the doctor’s go-ahead before we bust out the lime jelly.”

“Don’t like lime,” Rosie whimpered. “I want my Mummy.”

Hermione was at her side in a moment. Theo was ushering Potter from the room, and she felt so grateful to have such a commandeering presence at her side today. 

“Mummy is right here, my darling girl. Mummy is right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t feel so good, Mummy,” her daughter said, eyes cracking open just a bit to see that Hermione was indeed beside her. “Wanna go home.”

“I know, baby,” she soothed, running her hand over Rosie’s tangled hair. “But the doctors have to keep a watch over you, just to make sure you’re not going to get sick again. We have to let them make you better, hmm?”

Nurse Dora, who had slipped out of the room without Hermione’s noticing, returned with a bottle of water for both Theo and Hermione, as well as a small container of purple jelly.

“Doctor Lupin agrees that Rosie can have a spot of jelly. He’ll come in and talk to you lot in a few minutes, but I heard you didn’t care for lime so I’ve brought blackcurrant.”

Rosie perked up; blackcurrant was her favorite lolly flavor, and Hermione made a note to find the packaged jelly at the supermarket. She opened the package, offering it to her daughter whose eyes lit up and nearly swallowed the whole plastic spoon when her mother brought a bite up to her lips. 

“Easy does it, my love,” Hermione murmured, smiling softly. Rosie finished the whole container in under a minute anyway.

“I missed you so much, Mummy,” she said, voice cracking a bit. It shattered her heart. “I wanted to talk to you so much, but Grandmum wouldn’t let me.”

Theo made a disgruntled noise from behind them, and Rose seemed to notice him for the first time. 

“I ‘member you, you teach at Mummy’s school,” she said, eyes fluttering. 

“That I do, Rosie.”

“Why are you here?” For an almost-four year old, Rose Granger was unbearably perceptive. 

“Your Mummy was in class when we heard about your… accident,” he ground the word out. “And I helped drive her to the hospital since she was too worried about you to drive.”

“Oh, okay.” Then, turning back to Hermione, “Daddy still here?”

She hesitated. “No, little love. Your father had to go, but he was so sorry to have missed you waking up.”

Rosie just nodded, then winced. 

“Oh, darling,” Hermione cried. “Mummy is so sorry.” She turned to Dora, who had been having a quiet conversation with Theo. “Will the doctor be here soon? Can she have anything for the pain?”

Dora looked apologetic, shaking her head. “I’m afraid anything strong enough to take the pain away is not suited for children, or would make her too sleepy to speak to the police. It’s hospital policy, I’m afraid.”

“The officer has just arrived,” Theo interjected. Hermione quirked a brow in question. “I took the liberty of contacting a friend of mine that works for the department; his name is Blaise, and he’s very good with children.”

As if on cue, two men stepped into the room. 

Doctor Lupin was an older man, perhaps a decade or so older than Theo. He sported sandy blonde hair streaked heavily with grey, kind hazel eyes, and a rather impressive scar from eyebrow to lip on the left half of his face. 

The Bobby, Blaise, was an black man with perfectly set waves, a striking smile adorned by straight, white teeth. Hermione couldn’t tell his age; he could be twenty or forty, but she thought he must be a similar age to Theo if the two were friends. 

The men introduced themselves, Blaise deferring the conversation to Lupin.

“Hello, Rosie,” the doctor said in a kindly voice. “My name is Remus. I understand you’ve had a very trying few days. Can you tell me a little bit about what hurt and where?”

Rosie, who was unused to so many adults—especially men—giving her attention, froze up and tried to bury her face into Hermione’s side. 

“I think she’s just a bit overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity,” Hermione explained, blinking the tears away as best she could. Her stomach growled loudly, but she ignored it in favor of coaxing her daughter to speak. 

Theo, however, stepped off the wall and offered a small smile. “I’ll step out and find you something to eat.”

“No, that’s not—” she tried. 

He cut her off. “I’ll be back in a little while. I have to make some calls, anyway.” He pressed a kiss to her head then disappeared into the hospital corridors. 

“Rosie, baby,” Hermione turned her attention back to her daughter. “I know it’s a little scary, but won’t you tell the nice doctor where you’re hurting so he can make you all better?”

Rosie whimpered, but lifted her head. “Everything hurts, Mummy.”

Doctor Lupin made a note in her chart on the tablet he held, mouth set in a firm line. 

“Once the officer has collected her statement, I can order some better medicine to help Rose sleep tonight. She’ll need to stay overnight, at least, and she’ll need an MRI to rule out internal bleeding or fractures. The injuries look mostly superficial, aside from the malnourishment and dehydration, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.” Lupin reached into his doctor coat and pulled out a bubblegum pink lolly. He handed it to Hermione, who thanked him softly and watched him exit the room. 

“Right then,” Blaise—Officer Zabini, according to his name badge—said after a beat. He pulled out a tape recorder, and hit a button to turn it on. He spoke the date, time, and report ID into it, then looked at her. “Before I speak to Rose, can you give me some context surrounding the incident?”

She nodded, explaining all about the nursery school being shut down, Molly’s offer to keep Rosie for nearly a week, and the corresponding dates and times. She made sure to mention the odd behavior her daughter had shown after picking her up on Monday, including her little accident during class on Tuesday. 

“I know children are prone to accidents, but Rosie hasn’t had one since she was toilet trained last year. It was very concerning, especially knowing what I do now.”

Blaise nodded, making notes in his steno pad. Then he crouched down beside Rosie’s cot and smiled at her. 

“Can you tell me who gave you these bruises, Rose?” 

Rosie shook her head. “I’m not sposta.”

“Did someone tell you not to tell?” A nod. “Was it a grown-up?” Another nod. “You won’t be in any trouble, luv. A grown-up shouldn’t ever ask you to keep secrets.”

“Grandmum Molly said if I told, they’d take me away from my Mummy.”

Hermione tried to stifle her sob, but couldn’t catch it. 

“Nobody is going to take you away from your Mummy, luv. We just want to know what happened so it never happens again.”

Rosie looked at Zabini, her wide, owlish eyes considering. 

“When Mummy left me with Grandmum, I had an accident ‘cuz I couldn’t get into the loo. It was locked. I don’t know why it was locked, it’s never locked at home. She hit my bum with a wooden spoon then told me I wasn’t allowed supper. She said if I told Mummy she’d make me really sorry.”

Blaise took a shuddering breath as he wrote her words down. “When did you get those bruises? Was that from the wooden spoon too?”

She shook her head. “I got scared the first night I slept over. I had a bad dream and accidentally weed in the bed. When I woke Grandmum, she was so mad. She said I had no manners, and if I wanted to soil her sheets that I could sleep on them. I didn’t want to sleep in my wee so she used some of Granddad’s neckties to keep me in bed. I tried to get out of them but eventually I fell asleep. Grandmum untied me in the morning, but she said I couldn’t have any breakfast unless I washed the sheets. It was so hard, and the soap hurt my hands.” 

Hermione cried silent tears as her verbose daughter continued on, detailing more of the abuse she suffered at the hands of her own father’s evil mother. 

“Did your Grandmum ever tell you why she was hurting you?” Blaise asked, once Rosie had stopped speaking for a while. She’s just recounted the outing at the petting farm, where she had apparently been made to sit in a dirty puddle and then beaten for getting dirty. 

Rosie’s eyes flashed to her mother, and it was clear she didn’t want to repeat whatever bile Molly had spewn. 

“It’s alright, my love,” Hermione croaked, desperately wiping her cheeks with her sleeves. “Grandmum will never hurt you again.”

Rosie nodded, gulped, then spoke. “She said Mummy was a dirty slag that got ‘up the duff’ on purpose to trap Daddy, and she was giving me the discipline I needed to not end up like Mummy. She said I was a naughty girl that deserved to hurt like Daddy hurt when Mummy kept me away from him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Blaise muttered.

“What does ‘up the duff’ mean, anyway?”

The adults ignored her question. It was then that Theo arrived, holding a takeaway bag from somewhere decidedly not in the hospital. 

“Is her word enough to make an arrest?” he asked, setting the takeaway down on the small rolling table. Blaise closed his steno pad and nodded shortly. 

“I’ll just need to take some photos of her injuries, and then we can dispatch officers to make an arrest.”

 

Twenty minutes later, after Zabini had carefully taken photos of nearly every inch of sweet Rose, they were left alone. Hermione was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She had settled into her daughter’s cot, cradling her gently so as to not aggravate her injuries. Nurse Dora had come in to administer the meds that would make Rose sleepy, then bid them farewell as her shift was over. 

She had no more tears left to cry. Her eyes were scratchy and dry, her nose was stuffed and she was breathing out of her mouth. Her chest ached, head pounded, and heart stung. She felt so foolish for entrusting her daughter with Molly, with anyone. She felt terrible anger toward Molly, anger at Ronald for abandoning his daughter, anger at herself for not being enough. 

Mostly, Hermione felt inadequate. 

She was nearly done with school, so close she could taste it. She’d done it all, by herself, but it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough. 

“I’m so sorry, baby girl,” she whispered into her daughter’s hair over and over, even as Rosie slept deeply thanks to the painkillers. 

Theo forced her to eat, but the food tasted like ash. She told him repeatedly that he should go home, but he steadfastly refused. 

“I really appreciate all you’ve done, but you ought to be comfortable and I can’t imagine that—” she had tried, but one dark look had her clamping her mouth shut. 

“You are stretched far too thin, Hermione,” he said with a definitive air. “You’ve been doing so well on your own for so long, but now you need to step back and let someone take care of you. Let me take care of you, and Rosie too. I want to give you both everything.”

Hermione was slightly awed by his declaration; they’d never even kissed, for goodness sake. But the sincerity in his tone was too ardent to be disingenuous. She smiled at him, feeling a tightness in her chest ease considerably when he gazed back, adoration burning hot in his gaze

Notes:

I’m incapable of writing stories without angst. At this point, I’m not even sorry.

Chat with (or yell at) me on Insta @willamalfoywrites

Kudos and comments are always appreciated, as well. 🤍

Chapter 5

Friday bled into Saturday, and Hermione didn’t think she’d ever been so bloody exhausted. The hospital cot was not meant for two people, even two people as petite as she and Rosie, but she refused the roll-out cot offered. She couldn’t bear the idea of not feeling her daughter’s breath puff against her neck while she slept. 

The night shift nurse had mistaken Theo for Rosie’s father, and neither of them corrected her. He had stretched out on the roll-out cot, face lit up dimly by his laptop screen, researching something. Hermione had asked him what he was up to, but he had steered her questions toward other topics. Theo had also offered to message Hermione’s friends for her to reschedule their study night, for which she was extremely grateful. She wasn’t sure yet what she’d tell Pansy and Tracey and Padma, but she knew without a doubt they’d support her in whatever choice she made. 

The night felt like it crawled by, but at the same time, she blinked and it was morning. She wasn’t sure if she slept, but it was clear Theo hadn’t. He slipped out while the morning nurse did her checks, returning soon after with coffee and pastries that decidedly had not come from the hospital canteen. She peeled herself from Rosie’s still-sleeping side and took the iced drink from him with a smile. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his stumbled cheek. “Mmm, brown sugar—my favorite.”

Theo, in turn, pressed his lips to her forehead before taking a sip of his own (hot) cappuccino. 

“I promise not to take the mickey out of you for preferring iced drinks in the middle of December,” he teased. Hermione quirked her lips and stuck her tongue out at him. 

Before she could retort, Doctor Lupin entered the room, several interns and residents in tow. 

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” he greeted kindly. “Mr. Nott, was it?” The two men shook hands, and then Lupin turned his attention to Rose. 

“Did she have a restful night?” 

Hermione nodded. “I think so, I never really felt her stir. Do you think she’ll wake soon?”

“We’ve pulled the pain meds back significantly, now that her body has had a full night to rest and recover; depending on her demeanor when she does wake, she may be able to be discharged this afternoon.” 

She breathed a sigh of relief, glancing sidelong at Theo and basking in his gaze. She felt safe with him nearby; it was as though her body had been in a perpetual state of panic, and only now could she begin to relax and live again. 

Which was crazy, right? They’d not even shared a proper kiss, for goodness sake! Maybe Hermione was crazy, but if she was being honest with herself, she found she didn’t really care. 

She was pulled from her thoughts by Theo, who had his hand resting gently on her shoulder. Doctor Lupin and the interns were gone, leaving them alone in the room once more. 

“C’mon,” he said, inclining his head toward the door. “You need a proper stretch and one of these croissants.”

“What I need is my toothbrush and an orgasm,” Hermione said with an eye roll, the words slipping out without much thought. It didn’t really register until Theo snorted indelicately, and her cheeks immediately flushed in embarrassment. 

“I can certainly procure the first for you, but I’m not sure the pediatric ward is the most appropriate place for the second.” 

Hermione opted not to answer, instead taking a long sip of her latte. 

 

Rose woke up not long after Theo made good on his promise of a toothbrush, and Doctor Lupin discharged her in the early afternoon. 

“Keep a close eye,” the friendly Doctor said, smiling at her as she looked through the overnight bag she’d packed what felt like months ago for something for Rosie to wear home. “If you’re concerned about anything, please don’t hesitate to schedule with her paediatrician, or bring her back to Emergency.”

“I will, thank you,” Hermione answered. All the clothes in the bag were dirty, soiled, and likely to simply be binned. 

“Goodbye, Rosie,” Lupin said softly to the little girl, who was playing a matching game on Hermione’s phone. She didn’t usually allow her to touch her phone; the only screen time Rose got was the telly, but it was the best way to keep the little girl occupied while she signed discharge papers and prepared them to leave. Theo hadn’t been back since retrieving the oral hygiene products, but she’d messaged him to let him know of their impending release. 

“Goodbye Doctor Loopy,” Rosie replied, pausing her game and looking up at him with serious eyes. The Doctor laughed at her pronunciation.  “Thank you for making me better. I drawed you a picture on a napkin but I accidentally spilled my juice on it and it had to go in the bin.”

“Ah, well that’s alright sweetheart,” he assured her. “I’ll see you in a few weeks for your check-in, alright?”

“Uh-huh,” Rosie mumbled absently, already having gone back to her game. 

Hermione apologized for Rose’s rudeness but Lupin waved it off before handing her the discharge papers and the follow-up appointment slip.

As the doctor left, she pondered if she’d be allowed to let Rosie stay in the hospital gown to go home. It was then another thought struck her. 

“Her seat!” she exclaimed softly to herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she remembered it was still in the backseat of her car. There was nothing for it, perhaps they’d just walk. The hospital wasn’t too far from her flat, and she could certainly carry Rose the distance, thanks to all those fancy Pilates classes Pansy liked to drag her to. 

So Hermione got to work signing all the release forms and triple checking that she wouldn’t owe any money for the extended visit. National Health was wonderful, but she had to be sure. 

Rosie continued playing on her phone until it was time for them to go. Hermione finally took it back, surprised to see several missed messages from Theo. 

Theo Nott 🥵: Headed into Harrod’s now for a few things

Theo Nott 🥵: Bloody hell, this place is a maze. I’ve just been reminded why I never come in here

Theo Nott 🥵: Right, Rosie’s new car seat has been acquired, just need to grab a few other bits and then I’ll head back to the hospital—discharge soon?

Theo Nott 🥵: I’ll assume you’re busy, or perhaps Rose has your phone. Just give me a ring when you can so I know where to park

Theo Nott 🥵: Alright love, I’m here. Waiting in the car park outside A&E. Come down whenever Rosie is discharged. 

Theo Nott 🥵: Bugger, I’ve just remembered she won’t have any clean clothes. Nevermind, I’m coming up.

Hermione read and reread the messages, the last one having been received only minutes ago. At that moment, she heard the hospital room door creak open, and then he was there. Standing there, looking unfairly handsome in a cerulean jumper overtop a white oxford. He held several bags from Harrod’s in his hands, and had a sheepish smile on his face. 

“Hello, love,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. Then, to Rosie, “and little love.”

“Hello, Theo!” Rosie said brightly, her lank curls bouncing sadly around her shoulders. Her eyes zeroed in on the bags. “Have you got a present for me?” 

Hermione gasped, “Rose!” but Theo only laughed at her daughter’s precociousness. 

“It is just,” he answered, poking the smaller bag at the front. “I hope your mummy doesn’t mind, but I saw it in Harrod’s toy shop and knew it was perfect for Princess Rosie.”

Rose scrambled off the bed as quickly as her little battered body would allow her and snatched it up before scurrying back to the bed. Her little bum cheeks were visible in the open back-gown, and Hermione groaned and flicked her eyes to Theo to apologize. 

Theo, however, was already sorting through the bags he still held. Two were thrust toward her.

“I thought you might like to have clean clothes as well. I’m a dab hand at guessing size, so everything should fit.”

Hermione was speechless as she accepted the shopping bags from him. Peering inside the first, she saw three neatly folded lounge sets in different colors; the second had several boxes tied with silk ribbon and cursive script labels. She recognized the brand as a rather pricey knicker company, and her cheeks flushed. 

Before she could insist the gifts were far too much, Rosie’s excited shriek drew her attention. 

“She’s so beautiful!” the tiny girl exclaimed, in a voice that was far louder than she ought to be able to produce. She held the plush unicorn tightly in her arms; if the creature had been living, Hermione rather thought it’d be deceased from lack of air by now. “I love her, I love her sooo much—thank you thank you thank you!”

“You’re quite welcome, Rosie,” Theo replied, smiling at her in a way Ron never quite had. He looked at Hermione, who still sat holding the Harrod’s bags, mouth slightly agape at the man’s kindness. 

“You should get changed while Rosie becomes better acquainted with Princess Sparkle Heart,” Theo murmured. “And then we can sort through the clothes I got for her, which I’m sorry to say, I went a little overboard on.”

With three bags left hanging from his large fist, Hermione didn’t doubt it. 

“This is too much,” she whispered, heart beginning to pound uncomfortably in her chest. She felt like if she stood now, her legs would collapse like under-set jelly. “It’s all too much.”

“Hermione, love,” Theo was suddenly crouched in front of her, hands reaching for hers. “Breathe, baby. Relax, please. I told you, I wanted to take care of you, and Rosie, for as long as you’ll let me.”

“You probably spent—” she tried, but he swiftly cut her off. 

“Don’t worry about the cost. I mean it, it’s nothing to me. Trust fund, remember?” He booped her nose with his index finger, and she couldn’t help but smile softly. 

“You said you don’t use it,” she sniffed, and something wet fell onto the back of her hand. She was crying, she realized. Theo brought one hand up and used his thumb to swipe the tears from her cheek away. 

“Only because I’d had no reason to,” he countered, still speaking in a gravelly whisper. “Let me spoil you a bit, yeah?”

Hermione could only nod.

Theo helped her stand and pulled the dark blue lounge set from the bag, along with one of the smaller knicker boxes, pushed them into her arms, and sent her toward the loo. 

 

When she came out, clad in the perfectly fitted cashmere lounge set (and the absurdly expensive white lace bra and knickers) that felt wonderful against her skin, Theo was seated on the hospital bed, holding up four separate outfits while Rosie petted the unicorn plush and tried to decide between them. 

“I like the pink tutu,” the tiny thing was saying, as the older man listened intently. “And the yellow shirt, the striped jumper, and the bumblebee tights.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s very age-appropriate fashion choices. Theo dutifully handed her the pieces she asked for, then picked up the bag that had shoes. 

“Trainers or furry wellies?” he asked, holding up rainbow keds and magenta rain boots that were lined in fleece fur. Rosie pondered it (or pretended to ponder, because Hermione could see the moment Rosie decided) for a moment before pointing to the wellies. “Alright then, go to your mummy and she’ll help you dress, alright?” He looked toward her and grinned. Rosie began to walk toward her mum in her little hospital socks, and it was clear he got another eyeful of her bum. 

“Oh, don’t forget these,” Theo continued, quickly averting his eyes to pull a pack of children’s briefs from the bag that held the shoes and adding them to the mound of clothes in her little arms. 

“Thank you,” Hermione mouthed, but he simply shook his head and winked. 

She brought Rose into the loo and got her changed quickly, though the bumblebee tights proved somewhat challenging. The bruising on her baby’s body was beginning to bloom into ugly mottled greens and yellows, though the worst of it was still a muted purple. It churned Hermione’s stomach and sent fiery rage through her veins. 

She wanted to make Molly Weasley hurt, hurt as badly as she’d hurt Rose. Perhaps with someone like Theodore Nott on her side, she’d be able to make that happen. 

Once Rosie’s outfit was sorted, they left the bathroom and began to collect up their things. Hermione reached for the overnight bag but Theo insisted they bin the whole thing. 

“It’s seen better days,” he said. “Besides, I’ve had a new one ordered and is set to be delivered some time today.”

She tried to school her expression, but it became difficult when the last Harrod’s bag contained two new coats, both very chic and clearly costing a small fortune. 

“Theodore!” Hermione couldn’t help but chastise. He merely winked and helped Rosie shrug into the little pink woolen peacoat, then her into the elegant beige match. 

 

His car was parked in a spot near the A&E entrance, already running and warm with his remote start. The carseat for Rosie was expertly buckled into middle of the backseat, statistically the safest in the vehicle. It could have been a coincidence, but as Hermione was buckling her into the bougie, designer seat, she suspected it was intentional. 

Theo was just… well, he was perfect. Even without the material gifts, he exuded confidence and security with his very being. A natural nurturer, who somehow had missed out on making a family while he was still young (younger, she chastised herself; Theo was by no means old), Hermione was keen to take advantage of it now. A proper daddy to take care of her, to love her, and, with any luck, to fuck her within an inch of her life. 

 

“Is there anything you need from your flat, Hermione?” Theo’s voice was loud, to talk over the Spotify playlist Hermione’s phone was playing for Rosie. Okay, maybe it was a little for her too; she loved the Bluey soundtrack unapologetically too. 

“Aren’t you taking us back there?” Hermione asked, furrowing her brow. “I—erm, I have a cat Crookshanks, and Rosie’ll be wanting some things, I expect.”

Theo nodded as they slowed to a stop at a light. 

“Molly Weasley was arraigned and made bail early this morning; I would feel safer if you were booked into a hotel until she’s no longer a problem.”

Something in Hermione’s heart plummeted. 

“O-oh,” she replied, somewhat stilted. He picked up on her dejected tone, giving her a quick glance before the light turned green. 

“If you’d rather stay with me, all you have to do is ask, love,” Theo murmured, now that the music had died down in anticipation of the next song. Ah, Escape, that’s Rosie’s favorite one.

“Well, I wouldn’t mean to intrude…” she answered, pulling on her fingers anxiously. 

“Baby girl,” he said, a bit louder but still out of earshot of Rose, who was happily scatting along to the Bluey tune. That got her attention; she bit her lip and looked up at him. “I want you to feel safe, and I’d like to be that safety for you. I want you, Hermione, love. There’s more I’d like to say more privately, but you must realize the depths of my feelings for you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes; it was so soon, but perhaps that didn’t matter when she’d never felt this way before. 

“Just Crookshanks and whatever Rosie wants,” she finally murmured, smiling broadly. 

 

The trip to her flat didn’t take long; as Rosie packed up what she wanted in the brand new duffel bag that had been sitting in a box marked Harrod’s when they arrived, Hermione packed up Crookshanks into his carrier. After the cat was unhappily stowed, she attempted to pack a small bag of necessities, but for every item she grabbed, Theo said he had one for her at his home. Just to be cheeky, she grabbed the straightener she hadn’t touched in four years.  

He came up behind her in the tiny loo, pressing his front to her back, and whispered, “I admit, I didn’t buy you one of those; I so much prefer your luscious curls.” One hand came around to sprawl over her belly, the other snaked up into her hair and grasped firmly. Hermione’s lips parted as she gasped; her eyes darted to his in the mirror that faced them, his eyes dark behind his spectacles. It didn’t hurt, his hand in hair, not at all. Heat pooled in her core and her cunt clenched. Her cheeks were flushed, and only got redder as he continued to murmur in her ears. 

“Your flat is lovely, very you. I can see how hard you worked to make this a nurturing space for Rose, I can see how good of a mum you are. You do know that, don’t you baby girl? You’re so good. And I know you’ll be so good for me too, won’t you?”

She bit her lip and nodded. 

“Of course you will. Because you’re so perfect, love. You’ll let me take my time with you, hm? I want to kiss down your perfect little body until I reach your perfect, pink pussy, and then I want to lick that perfect pussy until you come all over my tongue. Then, the real fun begins.” His grip tightened ever so slightly making her gasp aloud again. 

The nearing sounds of Rosie had them breaking apart. Theo swiftly exited the loo and intercepted her at the bedroom threshold. Hermione, meanwhile, tossed her flat iron in the trash, but grabbed her grandmother’s pearl necklace, which she had stored within an old, empty tiger balm container lined with tissues. She had hidden it ever since Ron had pawned several of her inherited pieces to “have money when the baby comes” which he actually had spent on tickets to the Arsenals for himself and his brother George. The pearl necklace had been spared purely because he didn’t think it would sell, despite it actually being the rarer piece. 

Hermione put the memory out of her mind as she stowed the tin in her coat pocket. 

“Right, have we all got what we need? Everyone ready to go?” Theo asked once all three were stood in the entry. Rosie was stuffing one last plastic play shoe into her bulging bag, despite it being quite large. Theo dropped to his knees and helped her to zip it, then shouldered it for her, as she couldn’t lift it. 

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, her heart swelling at the sight. She bent down to grab Crooks, but he took that too. 

“Where are we going?” Rose asked suddenly. 

“We’re going to stay with Theo for a little while, if that’s alright with you?” Hermione replied, and watched her think about it for a moment. 

Two moments later, “Yes, let’s go,” in a perfectly reasonable tone despite the excitement in her eyes. 

 

Theo’s townhome was in a posh neighborhood in Chelsea. The property was gorgeous; it looked to be three or four floors, the house itself built with lovely red brick. He had a private garage and grounds, and when they rolled up the drive and into that private garage, Hermione spotted a proper spa in the back garden. 

“Mummy, a pool!” Leave it to Rosie to spot it straightaway. The sky was darkening now, and she realized they hadn’t eaten since the small lunch the hospital had provided. In response, her stomach growled loudly, just as the car shut off. 

“Indian or Chinese?” Theo asked and Hermione groaned. 

“Oh, I’ve had such a craving for Indian; have you seen the tiffin girl on your FYP? If she doesn’t start getting chops again soon, I’ll call the tiffin company myself.”

Theo quirked a brow and laughed. 

“I don’t understand most of those words, sweet girl, but we can certainly get Indian,” he admitted, opening his car door. “Stay there, I’ll let you and Rosie out.”

Within moments he was unbuckling a limp Rosie from her five point harness; she was knocked out asleep. Hermione quite wondered how it could be possible, but toddler nap pattern recognition continued to completely befuddle her. 

Her car door opened next. She grabbed her backpack, which held her keys and wallet and laptop, and took his available hand to help her out. 

“Do you leave your lights on often?” Hermione inquired, seeing most of the downstairs lights were lit, along with a single one on the far back wall of the house. 

“The housekeeper, Mrs. Pomfrey is home,” Theo replied as they walked the cobblestone path to the back door. “She’s not usually in residence on the weekend, but when I called to let her know we’d be hosting two more for a time, she insisted to come after hours and help you get settled.”

“Oh!” She didn’t realize he had help… live in help. “That’s terribly nice of her, you said Mrs. Pomfrey?”

Theo nodded, typing a code into the security machine at the back door. It chirped and unlocked the door, and he ushered her through first before following with Rosie still asleep in his arms. 

They toed off their shoes and shrugged off their coats in the spacious mud room (conspicuously free of mud or grime or scuffs to the tile of any kind) before walking through another doorway into the most gorgeous kitchen Hermione had ever seen. 

“You can set your backpack anywhere you want,” Theo said. “Would you like to try and wake the little love or should we try and lay her down upstairs? There’s a guest room intended for children I think she would quite like.”

The gleam in his eye suggested said guest room had not existed prior to this morning. 

“If we can get her coat unbuttoned and tutu off, I suppose that would be fine,” she replied, eyes soft as they gazed upon Theo holding her baby. 

Together they worked to slip the coat from her little shoulders and pull the tutu off her hips where it had ridden up. She followed Theo up the stairs to the second floor, and turned off the corridor to the first room on the right. It faced the front of the property, and when he flicked the lights on low, Hermione nearly cried. 

It was like it was a bedroom out of Rosie’s dreams. Cream colored walls, and a four poster bed with gauzy pink hangings. Little butterflies adorned the hangings, as well as the walls. A dollhouse rested on the plush cream carpeting, seemingly just waiting for Rosie’s many dolls, and plushies to fill it. 

Hermione pulled the pink sheets back (freshly laundered cotton, if the lovely clean smell was anything to go by) and Theo laid her down gently. She didn’t even budge. 

“The doctor gave us medicine to help her sleep,” she murmured, brushing the fringe from her eyes. “But I don’t think she needs it.” 

“No, seems not. Still, it’ll be good to have. I’m sure she didn’t actually get rest in the hospital, being checked on every other hour, so a nice soft mattress will certainly keep her sleeping soundly. I’ll pop down and order our food; you come down when you’re ready, baby.” 

With that, Theo padded quietly from the room, closing the door softly. 

Hermione stared down at her daughter as she slept, little puffs of air escaping with every little snore. There was some bruising visible on her neck that made her blood boil, but she pushed it down. She didn’t have enough energy left to dedicate to hating Molly in earnest, but she would let it simmer on the back hob for later. 

After peeling Rosie's tights off and tucking her soundly under the duvet, Hermione too left the room, leaving the fairy lights twinkling just in case she woke. She trailed down the stairs and found Theo finishing up the takeaway call. 

“Can you get extra garlic naan?” she whispered, and Theo added it to the order before hanging up. 

“Should only be a few minutes; they usually rush it because I tip the delivery bloke too well,” Theo admitted, pulling out a chair so she could join him sitting at the island. “Rosie alright?”

“She’s going to be so excited when she wakes up,” Hermione answered, threading her fingers through his. His hand engulfed hers, and she (not for the first time) imagined what his thick fingers would feel like pushed inside her. A shudder ran through her at the thought. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, care dripping in his tone. “I could give you one of my jumpers.”

“Oh, I will absolutely be stealing a jumper or two,” Hermione said with certainty. “But no, I’m not cold.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, Hermione leaning to the side to rest her head on the bulk of his upper arm. As they sat, her eyes fluttered shut and the weight of the day, the past two days really, settled into her bones.

“Let’s sit on the sofa,” he suggested quietly after she startled awake the second time. “You’ll be more comfortable. You can have a little nap while we wait for our food.”

“’m too sleepy to move,” she mumbled back. Before she could even protest, Theo had her swept up in his arms, carrying her to the sectional sofa in the sitting room beyond the staircase. 

“Sleep, baby,” he crooned, settling them down with her draped over his lap. He stroked her hair, like he just knew it would send her to Dreamland in an instant. “Good girl, sleep now.”

As she drifted, Theo kept talking, murmuring softly. She only caught a few fragments of sentences as sleep finally claimed her. 

“—my perfect girl—never letting you go—strong, brave, so smart—early, but I love—”

 

Some time later, Hermione awoke with her face against a pillow and a blanket over her body. Her heart leapt in its cavity as she tried to remember where she was, but the memories came back quickly. A glance at the clock had her realizing she’d been asleep for almost two hours!

Theo sat near her, laptop settled on his thighs and the screen alighting up his face. It reflected off his spectacles, but she could tell the moment his eyes flicked to hers and found her awake, because he smiled brightly. 

“Good evening, sleepyhead,” he teased. “Sit up slowly, alright? I’m certain your blood sugar is low, and you’ll get dizzy if you move too quickly.” He shut the laptop and set it on the coffee table, then reached for a short cup with a lid. “Here, it’s apple juice. It’ll help your headache. Drink it all, baby girl, and then we can have our takeaway.”

Hermione accepted the cup gratefully, sucking down the syrupy sweet juice though the straw in the top. It rather reminded her of a sippy cup, which made her insides squirm, and she drank the whole lot within a few moments. 

“Good girl,” Theo praised, rising to his feet and extending a hand to assist her ascent too. He plucked the cup from her hand, then led her back to the kitchen to eat. 

He’d set his oven to warm, so everything was still the perfect temperature. When Hermione tried to reach for a plate, he tsked, then asked her one at a time what she wanted. 

He made his own plate quickly after that, and they ate at the island while he playfully quizzed her on the semester’s chemistry lessons. 

“Mm, this curry is so good, it tastes way better than the takeaway place by my flat,” she moaned as she nibbled on the biryani chicken.

“This restaurant has a secret second menu, for us Brits that like authentic ethnic food,” Theo replied after swallowing a large bite of the beef chop he’d ordered for them. “I had a feeling you fell into that category.”

“I love tikka masala too,” she admitted with a laugh. “But this is to die for.”

 

When they finished dinner, Theo cleared their plates and rinsed them off at the sink. While he did that, Hermione fished her phone, forgotten about in the chaos and excitement of the day, from the bottom of her backpack, along with her charging cord. 

“Can I plug this in somewhere? It died this afternoon and I need to check my messages.”

“If you’d like to take it up to my room, there are outlets everywhere. It’s the middle door on the left, second floor,” he replied, flashing her a smile that promised exciting things to come. “Oh, there’s also a toothbrush and other toiletries sitting on the bathroom counter for you, feel free to use what you like. I’ll be up shortly.” Hermione nodded, deciding to take the whole backpack upstairs too, so she could also charge her laptop and smart watch. 

 

The carpet was plush under her socked feet as she took the stairs quickly, finding the door he’d mentioned belonged to his bedroom and pushing through. 

The room was large, nearly the size of her whole flat. A real, log-burning fireplace against the far wall had a small sitting area, the dark blue damask Chesterfields matching with the rest of the decor nicely. Beside the fireplace was a wall of built-in shelves that were predominantly filled with books, though some masculine tchotchkes were artfully thrown in, like a silver hourglass and a vintage globe that most certainly showed old country lines and dominions.

His bed was large, much larger than her double at home, and was covered in butter soft, dark blue sheets and a grey striped duvet with matching pillowcases. Each side of the bed had a side table; the right, nearest to the door, was his side if the small stack of books, spare spectacles, and a crystal carafe of water was anything to go by. A tall dresser sat near the door for the closet, and a low dresser with a mirror rested against the wall with the bathroom attached. The Harrod’s bags from earlier sat in a neat row in front of it. 

All in all, the space felt like Theo. His masculine scent clung to every inch of the room, and Hermione breathed it in, only just barely stopping herself from rolling around in his sheets to engulf herself in it. 

Instead, she slipped into the bathroom to brush her teeth and possibly comb her hair, which she was sure was a wreck from the day and her impromptu nap. The bathroom was quite modern, especially compared with the classical elements of the house, but Hermione supposed when it was built, there wouldn’t have been amenities like the steam shower or towel warmer built into the wall. The clawtooth tub looked especially appealing, large enough to fit two. Everything was clean and white and bright; the nearly pure white marble countertop held two sinks, and as Theo said an electric toothbrush sat out waiting for her, along with an absurd amount of expensive body and face products. She recognized a few of the labels as brands Pansy occasionally used when she was staying the night to study. 

“Bloody hell,” she muttered, reaching for the package that held the (thankfully, pharmacy brand) toothpaste, opening it and going about her tooth brushing routine. As the daughter of two dentists, she was quite stringent about it. 

Once she had clean teeth and fresh breath (and relieved her bladder, because she was busting), the next box she opened held the wide tooth comb that would detangle her curls. It didn’t take long, thankfully, but by the time she had finished, the door creaked open and Theo appeared in the threshold. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured. “I just peeked in on Rose; she’s still sound asleep, snoring like you do.”

“I do not snore!” Hermione protested, despite her heart clenching at the fact he checked in on her daughter, without even having to ask. Where had this man been when she was younger?

“Oh, you absolutely do,” he laughed, stepping forward to slide his fingers through her curls. “You drool too.”

Before she could retort, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers lightly. The action stole a gasp from her chest, breathy and desperate, which Theo took as invitation to deepen the kiss. All passion and lust and wandering hands, he lifted her easily by the bum, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world when she draped her arms over his shoulders as their lips moved against each other. 

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he groaned against her mouth before licking into it. Hermione could barely keep up with his fervor, but she was more than content to let him have his wicked way with her. “You have no idea how badly I want you, Hermione. I want to make you mine.” 

Theo moved his lips down to suck marks into her neck, combined with his words, drew a keening whine from her lips. 

“Can I, baby?” he asked, breaking off with a pant. “Can I make you mine?”

“Oh God, yes,” she begged, letting her nails rake gently against his scalp under his hair. “Please, Theo. I want to be yours.”

He shuddered under her, seeming to lose control for a moment. Still, he took off his specs and set them on the counter before staring deep into her eyes. 

“Say it again, baby girl. Tell me one more time.”

She bit her lip, then whispered, “Make me yours, Daddy.”

Notes:

I tried to fit smut into this chapter, but it just got too long.

Good new is next chapter will likely be almost ALL smut!

I’m waffling if I need an epilogue (or, frankly, if I get inspired with more plot more chapters). Let me know if you think I should tie this one up nice and neat and focus on my other works, or if I should leave this one running a while. 🙃

Notes:

I have no clue how long this bitch will end up, but I’m shooting for no more than 4 chapters.

We’ll see…

Kudos and comments make me squeal with joy!

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