Draped In Devotion

Draped in Devotion

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theo always acts like it’s an inconvenience. The way his sweaters disappear into the abyss of your wardrobe, but when you walk into a crowded room wearing something that still carries his scent, his patience stretches thin, because everyone can see what he already knows. You’re his, and you always will be.

Theodore Nott had never been one for loud proclamations of affection. His love was quiet—woven into fleeting touches, stolen glances, the way he always positioned himself between you and potential danger, even if that “danger” was just Malfoy’s sharp tongue or an overeager Ravenclaw looking at you for a bit too long.

His love was also threaded into the fabric of every sweater and shirt that you stole from him.

Or, rather, that he let you steal.

Theo liked to pretend it annoyed him—huffing when you walked into his dorm wearing one of his favorite jumpers, grumbling under his breath about how he’d never see it again. But deep down, he liked it.

No, he loved it.

He loved seeing you wrapped in something that smelled like him, the sleeves always too long, the collar slightly stretched because you’d tug at it absentmindedly. He loved how his clothes clung to you in ways that were so entirely different from how they fit him, how they told the world in a thousand unspoken ways that you belonged to him.

And yet, he still put up the act—because it made you smirk, made you tease him, made you kiss him sweetly as if you were thanking him for something he hadn’t even protested in the first place.

It started on a cold winter evening in the Slytherin dorms.

Snow had blanketed the castle grounds, and the fire in the common room was flickering lazily, casting warm golden light against the emerald-draped walls. You were curled up on Theo’s bed, wearing your own uniform, shivering slightly despite the thick blankets.

Theo, who had been reading beside you, let out a long, exasperated sigh before tugging off the sweater he was wearing. He tossed it at you, expression flat but eyes gleaming with something warmer than the firelight.

"Take it," he muttered, feigning reluctance. "If you’re going to steal my things, you might as well do it while I’m watching."

You had grinned, tugging it over your head, inhaling deeply at the scent of him. "Oh, I’m definitely keeping this one."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled you into his side, fingers playing with the hem of the sweater as if memorizing the sight of it on you.

It became a habit after that.

Every time you stayed in his dorm after late-night study sessions, every time you dragged him away from his potions homework just to lie on his bed and talk, every time you snuck into his room under the guise of “forgetting something”—you left with something of his.

It was almost a game, at first.

Until it wasn’t.

Until Theo realized that he looked forward to it. That on mornings when he walked into the Great Hall and saw you sitting there, sipping your tea, wearing his sweater, something settled in his chest.

Possessiveness wasn’t the right word for it. It was something deeper than that.

It was his. You were his.

And no one could miss it when you walked through the halls wrapped in pieces of him.

One morning, after a particularly long night spent in his dormitory, you slid into your usual seat at the Slytherin table, still half-asleep.

You were wearing his deep emerald sweater again—the same one he had given you weeks ago, the same one you’d never returned.

The moment you entered, eyes flickered toward you, lingering for a beat too long. The realization hit slowly, like a flame catching onto parchment—the Slytherins knew exactly whose sweater that was.

And so did Theo.

He had been pouring himself tea when you sat down beside him, but the moment his gaze landed on you, his hand stilled. His jaw tensed, lips pressing together as he let his eyes drag over the familiar fabric draped over your frame.

You could see it—the way his grip tightened around the handle of his cup, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.

Draco, who had been lounging across from you, smirked. "You’re doing it on purpose now, aren’t you?"

You feigned innocence, tearing off a piece of toast. "Doing what?"

"Parading around in his clothes like a bloody banner," Blaise chimed in, sipping his coffee. "You do realize half the idiots in this school were holding onto the delusion that they had a shot with you, right?"

Theo still hadn’t said anything. He was watching you, waiting.

So you turned to him, tilting your head slightly. "Is there a problem, Nott?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, setting his tea down with a little more force than necessary. Then, he leaned in close, voice dropping just for you.

"You don’t ask for them anymore," he murmured.

Your lips twitched. "Do I need to?"

His fingers brushed against the hem of the sweater where it rested against your thigh. His touch was light, barely there, but you felt it like a brand.

"You could at least pretend to give them back."

You grinned, reaching for your own tea. "And deprive you of the pleasure of seeing me in them? I wouldn’t dream of it."

Theo let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. But when he sat back, his arm stretched out behind you, his fingers resting lightly against the curve of your hip.

And that was it. No grand declarations. No loud possessiveness.

Just a touch. Just a look.

But it was enough.

Later that evening, you found yourself back in his dormitory, curled up against his chest as the winter wind howled outside the window. The sweater was still draped over you, and Theo’s fingers traced along the hem absentmindedly, his touch warm against your skin.

"You never actually get mad when I take them," you mused, shifting slightly so you could look up at him.

Theo sighed, carding a hand through his hair. "You do take them often."

"You give them to me," you corrected.

He didn’t argue. Instead, his fingers slid under the fabric, ghosting along your bare skin.

"You could just ask me for them," he murmured. "I’d give you anything you wanted."

Your breath hitched. He always said things like that—effortless, unguarded truths that made your heart stutter.

"Where’s the fun in that?" you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

He made a low noise of amusement, his lips brushing against your temple. "Just promise me one thing."

You hummed, nuzzling against him. "What’s that?"

His hand splayed against your back, holding you closer. "If you’re going to keep stealing my sweaters," he murmured, "just make sure I get to see you in them."

Your lips curled as you tangled your fingers with his. "Always."

Theo sighed, but there was no exasperation in it this time—just quiet, content surrender.

Because you weren’t just wearing his sweaters.

You were wearing him.

crazy little thing called love

"Would you all stop teasing me? This is a very serious matter for me!" James had said.

That was five minutes ago. Now Sirius has root beer trailing down his nose down to his neck while Remus was just silently holding his laughter.

About three hours ago, James had brought him, Padfoot, and Wormtail to The Three Broomsticks, saying he had a very serious matter to discuss. Everybody was being their normal self – well – everybody except James. Peter was worried for James, repeatedly asking "What is it?" over and over and over until the words seem to have turned alien to Remus. Sirius on the other hand was laughing all the way here, telling his mate to "Relax, I'm pretty sure you're just being overdramatic. And we all know I'm nothing if not dramatic. So, as the muggles say, chill, Prongs."

The next hour consists of a blur of butterbeer, root beer, and whisky. Usually, Remus would hold himself back and not drink too much alcohol. But it's been more than a week since the full moon and his hip was still screaming every time he slightly moves around. A little alcohol doesn't hurt anybody, does it? he thought.

In the middle of telling a story about how he's finally mastered the art of eyeliner, Sirius was interrupted by James who cleared his throat after being silent for the whole hour.

"I have an announcement to make," said James. HIs voice was odd. It was high-pitched and all over the place. Not very James-like really.

Sirius just stopped mid-sentence. "Breaking news, lads. Our best friends Prongsie here has finally learned how to speak again. Astonishing!"

Remus found himself rolling his eyes. Though he thought it was unusual that James was acting like this. Where was the overconfident jock he was this morning? He wasn't only acting strange since the trip here. He barely said a word at dinner. Only muttered 'nice' once and smiled to himself while the others were rambling on and on about their day. No, he was acting strange even before that. It was really after Potions, when the fifth year Gryffindors had a class with the fourth year Slytherins. Normally, James would partner up with Sirius, but this time, he immediately ran to Regulus' table.

Oh. Oh.

Remus isn't an idiot. He's seen how James always seem to want to get closer to Regulus, no matter how much he pushes him away. He's seen the way they look at each other. It's the same way he and Sirius used to stare at each other when the other wasn't looking. They still do that now, only when they lock eyes, they don't break the eye contact and instead smile at each other.

James might've not told Remus about how he fancies Sirius' little brother, but he's also heard how Regulus talks about him. How Reg always seem to be mean to James, but smile to himself when he thinks nobody else is looking.

Remus realizes what's coming up and he finally understands why James had been acting so weird.

"Go ahead, Prongs. We're sure it's not that bad." Remus had spilled out. "Whatever it is, we'll support you no matter what." He was lying. He didn't know if Sirius was going to like the news or not. What he knew though, was that James was Sirius' soulmate and even if he didn't accept it at first, Sirius would come to his senses and accept that it isn't really that bad.

"Yeah, go ahead, Jamie" said Sirius in between giggles. He hasn't seen his Moony this serious since forever. Not to mention the fact that he hasn't been this drunk since forever. Everything was a haze and Sirius could barely see James without nearly squinting his eye shut.

James took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing. All right, so... uh... you know Regulus right?" No, we don't, Remus wanted to say. Instead, he said "Yeah, go on." He could see Sirius clinging onto Peter while grinning like a huge dork. That Sirius black grin.

"Yeah! So, you and Padfoot, right? You guys are, well, together. Me and, shit how do I say this, well so, Reggie and I are like you guys now, basically" James was trying to speed up the process, but every time he tried to talk it all just came out in a jumbled mess. "Hey, Pads, care for another beer?"

Secret's out.

Remus could see that everyone is trying to wrap their head around what just happened. Peter's face dropped and he's currently staring at James, not saying a word. Sirius also seem to be processing the situation, albeit a little slowly. How drunk is he, really?

"Woah, woah, back the fuck up! So, you're saying that you, James Fleamont Potter, are dating my brother, Regulus Arcturus Black?" Sirius said. Well, more like shouted. "Like dating dating? As in 'I love you' dating?"

Let's not act like this is not what Remus had expected. There are only two outcomes from this. Either Sirius storms off, or, well, he doesn't really know what the other option is. Sirius doesn't seem like the type to lecture James about treating his brother right.

After a long, awkward silence, James finally muttered a quiet "Yeah." By now, Sirius has sat back down in his chair.

Shit, Remus thought.

After yet another awkward silence, Sirius looks at James in the eyes. Shiiiitt.

"James, do you love him?" "Huh?" "Do you love him, Regulus?" "Well yeah, I mean, I don't really know what love technically means but if I were to explain it, I would say that I love him." "Alright." Sirius turned to the bartender and asked for another bottle of beer.

That was it? James seems to be thinking the same thing. "What do you mean alright, Sirius?" He chuckled, "I mean alright. I trust you enough to know that you won't break his heart, which if you do, you won't live to see another day. But I haven't been blind, Prongs. I've seen the way you both are like when you're together."

"Plus, you're madly in loooooooooooove" Padfoot said. "He's in love, Moony, you hear that? Our James has grown up quickly."

Oh, so he isn't mad? Thank Merlin.

Remus smiled. "Oh, he's in love, all right. He loooooooooooves our dear old Regulus!" By now, Peter's woken up and decided to tease James as well. "It's a crazy little thing called love!" Peter sang.

"Don't laugh! I was genuinely terrified of what Padfoot was gonna say!" James said. Come to think of it, it was rather funny how he was all stammer and stutter a few minutes ago.

"This thing, called love," Sirius stood up and reached for Remus' hand, pulling him down from his chair. "I just can't handle it" Remus twirled him around like a ballerina.

"Crazy little thing called love," Remus muttered, then pulled Sirius close. And their lips met. For a moment, nothing else mattered. All sound has gone silent and all that Remus could think about was Sirius Orion.

"Oi! Stop stealing my moment!" he'd heard James mutter in the background. Remus couldn't care less. He could feel Sirius smiling into the kiss, which just made him pull him harder onto him.

Remus didn't know what love meant as well. He's read books, but they didn't nearly prepare him enough for what it actually felt like. Love is Sirius. Love is his Padfoot.

He pulled away from the kiss, but couldn't find the need to look anywhere else other than Sirius' eyes.

"I love you" His voice was close to a whisper.

"I love you most" Sirius muttered.

"Lads! We're still here! Don't leave me and Pete hanging like this, will ya?" James said, clapping his hands to regain their attention.

"Look, Moony, that's our looover boy," Sirius chuckled. Remus could only smile.

James shook his head. He actually looks frustrated. It makes everything all the more funnier.

"Would you all stop teasing me? This is a very serious matter for me!" James said.

Stop. No. Don't do it. Remus wanted to say. But he was too late.

"No! You're James, I'm Sirius!"

The most overtold joke in the history of jokes. For some reason, Remus though it was the most hilarious thing he's ever heard. He has heard Sirius use that joke, over and over and over again. But for once it actually seems to be funny.

It was most likely James' reaction that made Remus double over in laughter. He looks so tired of that joke. To the point where he could only close his eyes and exhale.

But that's not the thing that made Sirius laugh. No, it was Remus doubling over in laughter, which then caused his arse to bump into Peter, who fell onto the bar and landed in one of those stacks made out of shot glasses, causing the whole structure to topple over and the glasses to shatter all across the floor.

This time, it was Sirius' turn to laugh while Remus and Peter stood in horror.

"Oh no" was the only thing he could muster up. He could hear Sirius slapping James shoulder behind him while laughing, or more likely sobbing.

He turned around to face them, only to find that there was root beer running down Sirius' nose, down onto his neck and spreading all over his shirt. That's hot, he immediately thought before bursting into laughter again. Leaving Peter to face with the mess they made.

p.s this was just a fun little thing that i wanted to try out. i had an idea and it just came onto life. i had a lot of fun writing this and might try writing more in the future. apologies for grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language. hope you liked it <3

Draped In Devotion

Draped in Devotion

More Posts from Memberofthehumanrace and Others

crazy little thing called love