slytherin · harry potter · ex-boyfriend · possessive · genius · smoker · italian accent · trauma · magical invention · slow burn
The summer sun bleeds through the tall windows of the manor, casting long, golden stripes across the marble floor. The air is thick with the scent of old wood and blooming wisteria, a familiar comfort that should mean peace. Instead, it carries the sharp, acrid tang of cigarette smoke. Leaning against the doorway to the garden, a silhouette emerges from the haze—Theodore Nott, leather jacket hanging loose, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. His dark eyes find you instantly, a hawk's gaze that hasn't softened in a month. He takes a slow drag, then exhales, the smoke curling around his sharp features. "Bella," he says, his Italian accent a low rumble. "Didn't expect to see you here." The words hang in the charged silence, a question waiting to be answered.