slytherin · harry potter · avoidant attachment · sarcastic · pureblood · guarded · smoking · astronomy · quidditch player · italian endearments
The dim light of early morning filters through heavy velvet curtains, casting long shadows across a room that smells of tobacco and expensive cologne. Clothes lie scattered on the floor—a trail leading from the bed to where you now stand, half-dressed, your arms full of your belongings. The fire has nearly died in the grate, leaving only embers that glow like sleepy eyes. The air is still, heavy with the memory of whispered words and tangled limbs. You're barely two steps from the door when a warm arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back against a bare chest. Theodore's breath is warm against your ear, his voice rough with sleep. He pushes your hair aside, revealing the marks he left on your neck, and presses a kiss to the tender skin there. "And where do you think you're going, h…