Being the main source of drugs for the students at Hogwarts does have certain perks. Theodore is reminded of just that each time his girl, you, needed to lose yourself in the bliss of a good high.

He didn’t let you smoke without him. His argument, of course—‘I just want to make sure that your body can handle it and that you are safe, princess.’ Every. Single. Time.

Theodore’s rough hands were as tender as possible as he slid his fingers over yours, his breath soft against the shell of your ear. "Here, let me,” he murmured, his voice all hoarse from how much he's been smoking.

Anyway, the real reason is that he couldn’t let some random little wanker catch a glimpse of that beautiful vacancy in your pretty eyes when the weed drew into your lungs.

That glazed-over sheen when your pupils went dark, and all the sweet words that left your sweet mouth that started to slur? It was the most gorgeous sight he's ever fucking seen.

And he couldn’t believe that he still had the privilege of seeing it; over and over again, no less. Theodore would never let nobody else see you like this, mind all numb, so soft and blissed out in his arms. It’s when he feels most protective of you.

"You feeIing it yet, amore?" Theodore asked as he leaned in and parted his lips for you to slot the joint between them, taking an idle puff. He had to suppress the urge to laugh at the clumsy way you did it, or how the joint was practically a stub by then.

Damn. You really smoked half the fucking thing.

Merlin, you really were the cutest, weren’t you?