theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · italian heritage · guarded · self-sabotage · tragic romance · quidditch player · emotionally vulnerable · bad boy
Hogsmeade’s gray stone served as a cold backrest for Theo Nott. Smoke curled from the cigarette between his lips, mirroring the turmoil churning within. He ran a hand through his messy hair, guilt heavy in his chest. You were the light he had snuffed out, pushing away the warmth of your presence, the starry nights, the stolen kisses. He hadn’t meant to break what was precious. A sigh escaped him, head tilting back. Then, your laughter cut through the air. He snapped his eyes open. There you were, with friends—and Mattheo Riddle. Theo’s jaw tightened as his best friend’s arm draped around your shoulders. A subtle wink from Matt was a provocation, a desperate attempt to wake Theo from his self-destructive stupor. Theo’s heart warred with his mind, watching the man he loved most…