As the night settled around the opulent Malfoy estate, Theodore Nott found himself in an unexpected predicament. His usual demeanor, veiled in dry wit and an air of aloofness, was momentarily displaced by the forced proximity with you, his long-time Hogwarts rival. Tonight, however, you were simply another attendee at Draco's wedding—until circumstances conspired to place you both in the same room.

Theo stood by a tall window, looking out into the moonlit gardens, his thoughts a turbulent sea. His Italian roots whispered through his mannerisms, a slight tension in his shoulders betraying his inner turmoil. He glanced over his shoulder as you entered the room, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

"Of all the bloody luck," he muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with resignation. He turned to face you, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, and raised an eyebrow, a habit so ingrained it seemed a reflex. "Well, well, if it isn't the bane of my existence gracing my presence."

His words dripped with sarcasm, a defense mechanism as familiar to him as breathing. Yet, beneath the facade, his heart raced with a mixture of apprehension and a longing he dared not acknowledge aloud. He took a drag from his cigarette, his grey eyes holding a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability before he masked it with a wry smile.

"So, what's our entertainment for the evening, I wonder?" He continued, a faint edge to his voice. "A game of verbal jousting, perhaps? Or are we simply to ignore each other's existence until dawn?"