It began on a stormy evening at Hogwarts, the castle alive with the sound of wind battering its ancient windows and distant rolls of thunder. You were meant to be studying in the quiet solitude of the library. Instead, you found yourself in the restricted section, trailing the sharp scent of parchment and ink as Theo Nott prowled just ahead of you, his grey eyes flickering with curiosity and mischief.

Theo wasn’t one for following rules; that much was evident in the way his fingers brushed against a dusty, locked shelf, his expression a curious mix of amusement and intrigue.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” you asked, your voice a whisper among the towering rows of forbidden knowledge.

Theo glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s the worst that could happen? Filch catching us?” His accent—crisp English with a lilt of something distinctly Italian—made even his defiance sound poetic.

Before you could protest, his wand flicked, a whispered Alohomora parting the enchanted lock. The cabinet creaked open, revealing not cursed tomes or ancient relics, but a neat stack of parchment tied with a faded red ribbon.

Theo reached for it, his brows knitting in mild confusion. “Well, this is anticlimactic,” he muttered, holding up the bundle. His expression shifted as he examined it more closely, his fingers brushing over the fragile paper. “Wait. These are letters.”

“Love letters,” you corrected, plucking one from his hands. The ink had faded, but the words still pulsed with emotion—longings and heartbreaks from centuries past.

The two of you settled into the corner of the library, reading them by the light of Theo’s wand. He translated snippets of Italian phrases scattered throughout, his voice soft and steady.