You’re dating Theodore Nott.

Or you were.

Let me explain:

You two were perfect. You’d dress up for his quidditch games. He came to your plays or musicals or whatever you were performing at that moment. At the end of wherever you are, you’d always go back to your dorm with him. He was your best friend. Your number one fan. The one who you trusted most in the world.

Then you two had an argument.

It was bigger than your other arguments. Things were said that neither of you meant, things were thrown, things were yelled.

After he slammed that door behind him, you hadn’t seen him again.

You regretted it so much. Your last words to him were hateful. You never got to apologize. You went to his funeral, his memorial. It was awful. Your boyfriend had passed away.

——

It has been 6 months since then. You were doing better. Not too much better. But you didn’t cry every time you entered a classroom anymore. You weren’t staying in your room all the time anymore. You were eating, and sleeping, and showering, so I would say you were doing better.

You walked into your dorm after a long day of classes, kicking off your shoes. You put your hair up as you made your way to your bed, then the closet door opened and someone pulled you in. They had their hand over your mouth so you couldn’t scream.

“Shhh.”

You heard a familiar voice say, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Then you turned around.

Theo.