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Theo swept into the office of the Midgenott Owlery from the back room, bringing with him a flurry of feathers, soft hooting sounds, and a faint musty smell. He tugged off his thick work gloves, tossing them into the bin by the door.
“Ginny is being an absolute nightmare again,” he told Eloise with a groan. “Won’t stop screeching and trying to nip Deirdre through the partition.”
“You’ve only got yourself to blame, naming her after such a spitfire,” she said absently, finishing the current tally in her head for cage liner costs.
Eloise scribbled the total onto her sheet of parchment and finally gave her business partner her full attention. Theo’s sandy brown hair was wildly unkempt in a way that would have given his Sacred Twenty-Eight friends heart palpitations, but she was used to it by now. She thought he looked nice; he was always happiest when flouting the strict expectations he had grown up with.
“I suppose it is my fault,” Theo admitted cheerfully. “But what choice did I have? She’s such a Ginny!”
Eloise rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She couldn’t help it; the ridiculous man always made her smile.
Theo shrugged off his work robes, tossing them into the bin as well before casting a Scourgify at the lot. Then he cast a Tempus.
“Nearly seven. Are you almost done? I could eat an erumpent.”
Eloise capped her ink pot and began organizing the parchment on the desk.
“Those are endangered, you know. Not to mention terribly dangerous.”
Theo scoffed.
“I wouldn’t eat the horn, obviously.”
That wasn’t quite as obvious as he claimed; Eloise had learned quickly that he was drawn to shenanigans like a niffler to gold. But he did still have a healthy dose of Slytherin self-preservation, so she probably didn’t need to worry too much.
Theo had already moved on to another topic, his brain flitting around faster than a snitch, as always.
“How did I end up with the evening clean up duty again?” he whinged, flopping into the spare desk chair. “That’s the third time this week, and it’s only Wednesday!”
He began to spin his wand around between his fingers at a dizzying speed.
“Because you hate doing the books,” Eloise reminded him. “Plus, the gala is on Friday night, so Joseph will be covering most of our Friday and Saturday shifts.”
Theo pursed his lips.
“Does this one at least have an open bar?”
She chuckled. “Yes, you menace. There will be plenty of firewhiskey to see you through this difficult time.”
He swatted her arm playfully, then sighed as though he were being forced to listen to a five hour lecture on wart removal charms.
“Besides, Robards will be there,” Eloise added with a smirk. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you. You can reminisce about all the times you made him look like a knobhead in front of the Wizengamot.”
Theo’s blue eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Oho! Well, that changes everything!” He grinned deviously. “I would be delighted to attend.”
She stood up and stretched, more than ready to be done for the day. Theo took advantage as the bottom edge of her blouse lifted to reveal a swath of pale skin. His finger darted out to poke her in the stomach, and she yelped, smacking his hand away.
“I think you’re forgetting that I know exactly how ticklish you are, Theodore Nott. Behave yourself or I will have no choice but to retaliate.”
He raised his hands in surrender as he stood to join her.
“I yield, I yield!”
They meandered towards the stairwell, flicking their wands to lock up and turn off lights in perfect unison.
“After you, milady.” Theo gestured dramatically at the rickety stairs that led to the owner’s flat.
They had only been living together for a few weeks, but already the whole routine felt second nature. Theo had moved in straight away after opening the owlery a few months ago, wanting to be close by in case of emergency. Eloise had waited until she felt confident that Hermione and Draco could handle things at the bookshop on their own. But when the time came for her lease renewal, she had also made the move.
She hadn’t regretted the decision for even a moment. Theo was so easy to coexist with; respectful and surprisingly tidy, thoughtful and perceptive in ways she had never experienced before. He knew how she took her tea depending on how much sleep she had gotten, and he never interrupted her if she was reading an autobiography.
They had fascinating conversations - about owls, of course, but about so many other subjects, too. Theo made her laugh with his biting sense of humor and antics, though his need to always be one step ahead in every conversation had relented a bit as they settled into their new lives. And if she played with his hair, he could stay quiet for hours.
Eloise had worried, at first, that he might get the wrong idea. So many others had, over the years, and she wasn’t sure she could bear that again. Not with him.
But Hermione assured her that they’d had “the talk” already, and nothing in his manner betrayed any desire for more. So she had allowed the anxiety to slip away like raindrops down a window pane, hoping that she could be openly affectionate for once without inviting disaster.
When they reached the bright kitchen with its pale blue cabinets, Theo immediately poked his head into the pantry.
“Do you think this bolognese is still good?” He brandished a serving dish full of pasta and sauce in front of her. “I think it’s been under stasis since you moved in.”
Eloise shrugged, levitating two plates off the open shelving.
“Should be fine, I think. What would you prefer to drink? We have a Babić already open, or that nice Teran that Blaise gave you.”
Theo decided on the Teran, and after a few quick spells to heat and serve and pour, they were seated across from each other at the small dining table.
“So, what time does the gala start?” he asked between bites.
“Seven. It’s being held at the Macmillans’ London townhouse.”
Theo wrinkled his nose.
“Fashionably late, then,” he said firmly. “I’m not spending more time in a Hufflepuff’s house than is necessary. So, what time shall we leave here? Ten to eight?”
Eloise cocked her head.
“We? Is your date meeting us here?”
“You are my date,” Theo informed her, as though she had simply forgotten. “Speaking of, are you wearing the peach gown or the turquoise dress robes? Matching exactly would be gauche, but I do need to make sure we don’t clash worse than a Weasley in pink.”
She stared at him, her mind a flurry of confusion.
“Why would you take me to the gala? I know this is the first formal event we’ve both attended since going into business together, but surely you’d rather bring one of your, er, paramours. That blonde witch from Belgium, perhaps? Or the German wizard with the phoenix tattoo? Someone you can fall into bed with at the end of the night, to make it all a bit more bearable.”
Eloise had to wait for Theo’s response while he finished chewing, her heart pattering uncomfortably in her chest.
He set his fork down and waved a dismissive hand.
“They’re all dead bores. If I have to spend an entire evening with one of them, I’ll end up wailing louder than a mandrake. Much rather spend it with you and just come back here afterwards.”
Her stomach lurched. She thought he understood. She thought he wouldn’t push for more, that he didn’t expect more than she could give. Was this all another huge mistake?
Evidently, her panic was written all over her face.
Theo reached across the table and flicked her nose. His tone was teasing but his eyes were gentle.
“Don’t worry, you goose. I’m not looking for anything besides your excellent company.”
His hand wrapped around hers, warmth enfolding her suddenly cold fingertips.
“I may be on a quest to fuck my way across wizarding Britain, but all I really need at the end of the day is someone I can trust. A person I care about enough to come home to. A person who will care if I don’t come home. I’m hoping you’re my person, El.”
Theo cleared his throat awkwardly, seeming to realize the gravity of the words he had just spilled into the air between them.
“And… maybe, I could be your person, too?”
Eloise blinked rapidly but she couldn’t hold back the tears as, for the first time in her life, someone asked her only for exactly what she could give. What she so desperately wanted to give.
“Yeah,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “I think maybe you could be.”