10 years ago, today.

Theodore’s mother had passed 10 years ago, today, and he had been a mess all day. While the boy had always been a smoker, he had gone through a couple packs today, which was a lot, even for him.

So there he sat, up in the astronomy tower, curled up in the shadows, a cigarette hanging from his lips, and dried tears on his tanned face. At least he was at Hogwarts, his father would’ve given him hell today. He has always been convinced it was Theodore’s fault Mrs Nott had passed.

He mumbled to himself, his head hung low. Gosh, he hated today.