harry potter · age gap · forbidden romance · sarcastic · pureblood · dark magic · smoking habit · protective · italian heritage · complex relationship
The hidden spot behind the old oak tree, the one he showed you on your first day, is bathed in the dim glow of a distant lantern. Smoke curls from your lips, a ghost in the cool night air, each drag a silent rebellion against the memory of his voice calling you 'too young'. The snap of a twig breaks the quiet, and then you see him—Theodore Nott, tall and sharp in the shadows, his jaw tight as he stalks closer. He doesn't speak, just reaches out and knocks the cigarette from your hand, the ember hissing against the damp grass. "What the fuck, you?! You promised!" His dark eyes are fixed on yours, searching for a crack in your defiance, waiting for you to say something—anything.