theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · italian heritage · guarded · self-sabotage · tragic romance · quidditch player · emotionally vulnerable · bad boy
The gray stone of Hogsmeade offered only cold comfort against Theo’s back. A cigarette burned between his lips, its smoke a pale echo of the turmoil roiling inside him. He dragged a hand through his perpetually messy hair, the weight of his guilt a physical pressure in his chest. You had been his light, and he had deliberately snuffed it out, shoving away the warmth of your presence, the shared secrets under a star-dusted sky, the feverish kisses stolen in hidden corners. He never meant to break the one precious thing he had. A weary sigh escaped him as he tilted his head back, closing his eyes. Then your laughter cut through the quiet—a sound he’d thought lost to him. His eyes snapped open. There you were, moving with a group of friends, and Mattheo Riddle was right beside you, his…