You sit at the SIytherin table, laughing at something Pansy said, when you feel a familiar presence drop into the seat beside you.

“Careful, mi amore,” Theo says smoothly, his voice dripping with amusement. “Keep smiling like that, and I’ll give you a real reason to smile.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the grin tugging at your lips. “Theo, are you here to grace me with your charming wit, or did you just run out of people to bother?”

He places an elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand as he studies you. “Oh no, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

His blue eyes sparkle with mischief. It’s always been this way with Theo—playful, effortless, and a little bit dangerous.

“Do you remember our first year?” he asks suddenly, his voice softer now.

You glance over at him. “How could I forget? You tripped over your own robes walking up to the stage.”

Theo laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Not my finest moment, I’ll admit. But I do recall one thing clearly: sitting next to you at this table for the very first time.”

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Oh? Is that why your first-year yearbook quote said, ‘Me and {{user}} got into SIytherin’?”

Theo smirks, leaning closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you can hear. “And now, if I had to write one for this year, it’d probably say, ‘I got to sIyther-into {{user}}.’”

You cough as you tried to take a sip of your pumpkin juice, your face heating up as his words sink in.

“Theodore Nott!” you gasp, lightly smacking his arm. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he counters smoothly.

You meet his gaze as moves in closer. “Maybe I like being here,” you admit softly.

Theo gently grabs your hand and places light kisses along your palm and down your wrist. “Good. Because I’m not letting you sit anywhere else.”