Desired | Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, 18+

71

This chapter contains mentions of death, torture, blood, and psychological trauma. Please read with caution.

I listened to 'Berlin' by RY X while writing this chapter, so if you want to feel the pain in my words, put it on repeat.

Let's meet the real Theodore Nott, everyone...<3

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Theodore stood with his breath caught in the back of his throat. His mouth had never tasted as bone-dry as it did now. His heart had never paced like this.

Suppose he wasn't looking at her, of course. When he looked at her, his heart was a somersaulting mess within him. Flipping and pirouetting unrestrainedly.

He wasn't sure that was the case now. He wasn't sure if his heart bolted because he was earned another chance to look at her, to have his eyes falling across her and devouring her more than last time he did, or because of what she'd just said.

''Theo?'' Her steps closer to him were stumbling, her hand was slightly put over her mouth, ''What did he mean by that? Why would he say that you're...''

He had stopped in the midst of the porch as she ran after him. His shoulders had sunken. His face ghosted with something heartbreaking.

Something flipped inside her. Her heart dropped.

''Are you?'' Isla asked again. There were tears glinting in her eyes, ''Are you sick, Theo?''

She was shaking. Her lower lip quivered as she stared so blankly at him. It was as if her heart had left her body. It didn't beat anymore. As if her soul had finally faded to unite with the constellations of the skies above them.

It felt like time had stopped, didn't function.

If he would look, he'd see that every hour hand stopped at this exact minute, in bearing with her heart.

Pain. There was so much pain in her eyes — more pain than she'd ever experienced before.

''Isla—'' Theodore said, his tone being low and hesitant. Reaching a hand towards her, he let his fingers brush over the arch her jaw curled in, ''It's not what you think.''

The tears fell from the lids of her eyes relentlessly. She couldn't stop them if she tried, and she fought to keep her sight on him, to see his face fall into something that looked like agony.

This hurt him more.

''Tell me,'' Her voice was so frail, so weak and begging. Her unconscious mind pleaded for him to answer, to grant her mercy and mend her aching heart, ''Please. Tell me.''

The tips of his fingers brushed across the hair slaving over her neck, and his palm cupped her chin. Theo tilted her head up, fixing her face so that he could see her, all of her.

His lips parted, primed to speak. Not one single vocal fled his sore throat. He just looked at her.

The rich lashes framing his rainy eyes battled. Blinking desolately.

He couldn't do more than blink quickly. Didn't want to. He couldn't risk a second where he didn't see her, where he couldn't neaten his stare on her even more than he did a second before.

''Please,'' Even more fragile now, her tone cracked as she placed her hands on his chest, holding herself from falling. Keeping herself from caving on her weak knees, ''No more lies, Theo. No more.''

Theodore stilled. His chest ceased its heaving.

''Please, Theodore.'' Her breaking words had him look away, slightly frowning not to let his own tears slip his reddened eyes, ''I understand if you don't want to tell me. You don't have to. You don't have to tell me anything, but I want to know that you're okay. I need to know if you're okay, Theo.''