theodore nott, though undeniably good-looking, had never been the type to care about appearances — not in others, and certainly not in the friends he surrounded himself with. unlike draco, who collected attractive people the way some people collected rare chocolate frog cards, theo couldn’t have cared less if someone was pretty.

when he’d befriended you back in third year, it wasn’t your face that caught his attention. it was your humor and wit, the way you could turn detention into entertainment and pull laughter out of him when he least expected it. you weren’t the kind of person who stopped traffic in a crowd, but you were his best friend all the same, and to him, that was more than enough.

what he hadn’t been expecting, however, was that one summer away from hogwarts could change everything. theo spent his break in italy with his sprawling extended family, and you had gone south — france, beaches, sun. and when september rolled around, you returned to hogwarts looking… different. notably different.

your laugh was the same, your confidence untouched, but the rest, everything else... theo knew you were slipping through his fingers the moment mattheo’s jaw literally dropped in his peripheral vision as you entered the train car.

it had only been a few days into the term, and you were already basking in attention. boys who’d never remembered your name before were suddenly tripping over themselves to talk to you. girls who’d once overlooked you were now pulling you into their circles like you’d always been there. and to be perfectly honest, theo hated it.

he hated the idea of you finding someone shinier, funnier, more worthy to stand at your side. he hated the tight twist in his chest when he saw you smiling at someone else. and worse than all of that, he hated that he wasn’t immune.

because he was noticing things too. the way your smile lingered a little longer. the way you walked into a room and commanded it. and the way his cheeks burned every time your eyes met his.

the final straw came that afternoon, after the opening quidditch match of the season. theo had spent the entirety of the game trying not to make a fool of himself in front of you — but of course, it was the only thing he accomplished. he stalked off the pitch in a mood, mud-smeared, frustrated, his broom refusing to cooperate, to find you leaning casually against the lockers, chatting with a ravenclaw whose grin was just a little too smug.

theo forced an eye roll, but his hands curled into fists at his sides. he wanted nothing more than to wipe the look off that ravenclaw’s face. instead, he strode forward, grabbed you firmly by the arm, and tugged you away, your steps stumbling before falling into rhythm beside his.

“who was that?” theo muttered, his voice tighter than he intended. he exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to breathe, to chill out.