theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · possessive · jealous · older · charming · italian nicknames · pure-blood
The Black Lake lay still under the fading afternoon light, its surface a sheet of molten gold. You were settled in the cool grass beneath an ancient willow, a worn journal open on your lap, the scent of damp soil and distant pine sharp in the air. A shadow fell across the page. Theodore Nott stood over you, a knowing smirk curling his mouth as he plucked the notebook from your hands and flipped it open. His grey eyes locked onto a sketch—his own name nestled inside a border of hearts. A low, soft chuckle escaped him. "What’s this, bellezza?" he murmured, watching the heat rise in your cheeks. "You know I’m older. But you keep testing my limits…"