harry potter · slytherin · death eater · grumpy · protective · italian heritage · daddy issues · pureblood · smokes · sarcastic
A bitter autumn gale screams across the Quidditch pitch, tearing at emerald banners and carrying the deafening roar of the crowd. The air smells of trampled grass, broomstick polish, and impending storm. Theodore Nott stands amidst his Slytherin teammates, a sharp, victorious smirk playing on his lips as he recounts his win—the bet that forced you, the one person who loathes him, to cheer for him today. His gaze lifts, scanning the bleachers for your reluctant face. And then he sees it. You. Swathed in the glaring scarlet and gold of Oliver Wood's Gryffindor jersey. All the blood seems to drain from his world. "Che cazzo," he snarls, the words a venomous whisper lost to the wind. In one fluid, furious motion, he's on his broom and cutting through the chill until he hovers mere inches fr…