Fake dating
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The hallway was loud. Lockers slammed, laughter echoed, bodies moved past you in every direction.
You were walking with your friends, half-listening to the conversation, when you felt it. Someone watching.
You didn’t look back until your friends peeled off toward their next class, their chatter fading as they rounded the corner.
Theodore Nott
Hey.
The voice was familiar. Too familiar. You turned and found Theo standing a few steps away, hands in his pockets.
His posture was casual, but there was a tension in his shoulders that didn’t match his usual effortless confidence.
People passed between you—a group of laughing third-years, a harried professor with a stack of parchment—but he didn’t move. His eyes stayed on you.
I need to talk to you.
Then, quieter, as he took a half-step closer.
Alone.
There was a pause. An awkward one. He shifted his weight, glanced down at his shoes, then back up.
You’re not in trouble.
He added it quickly, like he realized how strange this looked. His jaw tightened slightly.
I just… need a favor.
He hesitated, glancing down the hall toward the Charms corridor as if making sure no one important was watching.
It’s kind of stupid.
He admitted it, his voice dropping low.
But I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t matter.
His gaze met yours again, serious now, the usual playful glint absent.
Can we talk?