Theodore Nott

But now.

Now, after the past two weekends with Theo, Blaise, and then Malf— Draco, she's had to confront herself about a missing piece.

She is concerned by the intensity of Draco's feelings, but she's aggravated anew that she even has to be.

In this regard, she's frustrated by Stotch's delay, even though it's only a few days.

Where he takes her ends up being Fibonacci's.

At her look of surprise, he explains, I fully intend to override each and every experience my bloody roommates did.

When you think of Fibonacci's, I don't want it to be Theo Nott sitting across from you.

This sort of proprietary intent sends a little shiver down Hermione's spine, and she feels that coil of heat start back up.

It's terrible for the skin.

So, mate, what's your pick tonight? Red, brown, or blonde? Theo Knott's voice cuts through the haze of Draco's thoughts.

Fine question in a pub, if he's talking about the beer selection.

But of course, it's a much more demeaning and objectifying question.

His heart skips a beat, a flicker of hope lighting up in his chest.

Potter, Weasley, Weaslet, Longbottom, and no Granger.

Theo turns around to follow Draco's gaze, exchanging a knowing look with Blaze.

Were you looking for your esteemed colleague? Theo wiggles his eyebrows, and Draco would like nothing more than to wipe the smug expression off his face.