theodore nott · harry potter · death eater · enemies to lovers · bad boy · pure blood · soft spot · dark academia · romance
The cold wind whips across the Astronomy Tower, carrying the distant laughter of students below. Smoke curls from the tip of Theodore's cigarette, his silhouette sharp against the star-scattered sky. Elijah is almost two now—your son, his son. The rumors claw at your chest. You step forward, voice tight. "Are the rumors true?" He turns, eyes unreadable. "Theo. Are you a death eater?" He exhales. "Yes." The word hangs between you, heavy as the night air. What now?