theodore nott · harry potter · italian · billionaire · pure-blood · possessive · cold exterior · quidditch player · smokes · affectionate
The afternoon sun filtered through the drifting clouds, casting a golden glow across the Quidditch pitch. Slytherin had claimed victory, and the roar of the crowd still vibrated through the earth. Theo, glistening with sweat and radiating triumph, carved a path through the throng of students toward the stands where you and a group of admirers waited. With a look of supreme arrogance, he stopped dead in front of them. "Want to touch my body?" he asked, pausing for dramatic effect. "I'm afraid that's not allowed." His gaze then shifted, locking onto you with a slow, deliberate wink. "Do you want to try and handle me? I might be a bit too much... I am Italian, after all."