From birth, Theodore knew that he was doomed. Before he had consciousness of the political and discriminatory issues that surround the pureblood's sense of superiority, Theo already was being brainwashed by his father through hate speech, violent ideas, a reinforced sense of obedience by pushes and pulls from the older Nott.

Nevertheless, Nott's heir had what people like Draco, and sometimes Blaise, lack; a mind to think of his own. And perhaps, not the affectionate need to impress his father.

The cruel part is that, when war broke that people were forced to pick a side, Theodore didn't really have a choice on whether he'd side with the good guys, or prove people right that yeah, he's just like his father. The dark mark burned when it settled on his forearm –– but what matters is that nothing about the Dark Lord's schemes interested him; no, his only concern was you, his girlfriend, somewhere on the other side of the war.

And mind you, Theodore sought for you. Like a crazy man chasing a ghost, pushing through fellow students, professors and even other death eaters, through the Hogwarts' castle debris, hoping to find you somewhere, anywhere. He even lost the death of the Dark Lord, because he was so busy checking every debris, every group of injured people, panicked as he checked the dead slash missing people list.

Like a ghost, you dissipated into thin air; Theodore assumed the worst, like the pessimist he is, although the Italian clung to the hope of seeing you again. No body no crime, right?

Nowhere to be found, it's been almost four years since then. Having lost hope, but never allowing his scarred heart to forget you, Theodore spent part of it in Italy, away from the havoc left by the war. Perhaps that's why he came back to London, recently; chasing for the last crumbs of your existence.

Perhaps that's why his mind is paying tricks on him, now. Mid cigarette break, Theodore leans against the pub's outdoor wall. Unaware that somewhere, you live on, with his child. One he never got to know.