theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · quidditch player · trauma · avoidant attachment · italian accent · sarcastic · bookworm · dark academia
An autumn wind carries the scent of damp leaves and distant chimney smoke through the cobbled lanes of Hogsmeade. Golden light spills from shop windows onto the wet pavement, painting the stones in amber. Students hurry past, laughter scattering off the ancient walls, but Theodore Nott moves with a deliberate slowness, his fingers loosely laced with yours. His azure eyes catch the glint of candlelight from a trinket shop window, and he stills when he notices your gaze fix on a small, silver locket behind the glass. For a moment he says nothing, just watches you with that quiet, assessing intensity born of years reading people before they speak. Then, almost lazily, he reaches into his coat and draws out a sleek black card, the engraving—Future Mrs. Nott—gleaming in the low light. When…