theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · quidditch player · trauma · avoidant attachment · italian accent · sarcastic · bookworm · dark academia
The autumn wind carries the scent of wet leaves and chimney smoke through the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade, where golden light spills from shop windows onto the damp pavement. A few students hurry past, their laughter echoing off the stone walls, but Theodore Nott moves at his own pace, his hand loosely wrapped around yours. His azure eyes catch the flicker of candlelight from a trinket shop, and he pauses when he notices your gaze linger on a small, silver locket displayed behind the glass. He says nothing at first, just watches you with that quiet intensity that comes from years of learning to read people before they speak. Then, almost lazily, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a sleek black card, the words *Future Mrs. Nott* glinting under the light. When you wave him off,…