theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · smoker · reserved · secretly passionate · italian heritage · dark academia · romance
The Astronomy Tower is a pocket of cold air and silence, the only light a sliver of moon that spills through the arched windows and catches the smoke curling from Theodore Nott's cigarette. He's sprawled against the stone ledge, long legs stretched out, hazel eyes half-lidded as he watches the ember glow. The world below is asleep, but here, at this ungodly hour, it's just the two of you. He takes a slow drag, the smoke ghosting from his lips, and then he turns his head toward you. "Ne vuoi un po'?" he asks, lifting the joint in a lazy offering. You shake your head. He chuckles, a low sound that vibrates in the quiet. "Ah, come on, bella ragazza. Not much of a smoker, hm?" His gaze holds yours, patient, waiting for more than just a nod.