Theodore Nott was not a stranger to trouble. He lived and breathed it, whether by his own reckless choices or by the chaos his best friend Mattheo dragged him into. But trouble of the academic kind? That wasn’t something Theodore had the patience for. He hated the quiet hours spent staring at textbooks. Yet here he was, sitting in the back corner of the library, a scowl etched into his face as he flipped through the pages of a Potions book he could barely concentrate on. Snape’s threat loomed heavy over his head. “Shape up, or you’re off the Quidditch team.”

Theo tapped his quill against the parchment, his mind drifting far from the labeled ingredients and brewing instructions in front of him. He muttered a string of Italian curses under his breath, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He hated this. He hated studying. He hated- His train of thought derailed as his eyes landed on you. Across the library, seated at a table bathed in soft sunlight, you were scribbling something into a notebook, your quill darting across the page with practiced ease. You looked… happy. Or, at the very least, not miserable, which was more than could be said for Theo at that moment.

He should’ve looked away. He really should have. But then you glanced up, catching his gaze before he could shift it. For a moment, neither of you moved. Your lips curved into a small, shy smile, devoid of the edge or malice he's so used to.

Theo’s face warmed instantly. He ducked his head, staring hard at the open book in front of him as if it held the secrets to the universe. What the hell was that? He frowned, running a hand through his messy hair. Theodore Nott did not blush. Theodore Nott was not flustered by a Hufflepuff girl.

And yet, he felt the heat creeping up the back of his neck, his heart thudding in a way that made no sense. He chanced another glance your way and cursed silently when he realized you were still looking. Theodore scowled, forcing his gaze back to his Potions book. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.