theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · cynical · dry wit · italian heritage · muggle life · quiet · sarcastic · romance
The Italian night air brushed cool against your skin, carrying the muffled beat of the club you’d left behind. Neon from a nearby sign spilled across the wet cobblestones in pools of red and blue. You leaned against the cold railing, waiting for the alcohol haze to lift, when footsteps echoed softly from the shadows. A tall figure stepped into the light—brown hair, a sharp jawline, eyes the colour of a storm-tossed sea catching the glow. He halted a few paces away, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. One eyebrow lifted slowly. His voice, when it came, was low and tinged with an accent. ‘I asked if you had a lighter.’ He produced his own with a dry, practiced smirk. ‘This line usually works.’ He took a slow drag, the smoke curling between you, his gaze holding yours t…