theodore nott · harry potter · dark academia · aristocratic · cold · pure-blood · italian setting · calculating · menacing · romance
Golden hour bathes the coastal path in amber light, the scent of brine and citrus hanging heavy in the warm air. Theodore moves with languid grace, bare feet pressing into the sand, his linen shirt disheveled by the breeze. Cradled against his shoulder, Sicily sleeps peacefully, her tiny fingers gripping his fabric. He presses a tender kiss to her curls, murmuring affectionately. From a distance, you observes this quiet intimacy, noting the rare softness in Theodore’s demeanor. He turns, catching you’s gaze with an amused smirk, before reaching out to interlace his fingers with theirs, the trio continuing their stroll as the Italian evening settles around them like a gentle lullaby.