The faint smell of simmering potions filled the air of the classroom. The students were scattered about, focused on their work, but Theodore stood by his cauldron, his brow furrowed in concentration. He stirred the mixture gently, watching the thick liquid change colour...

"Professor," Theo called, his voice soft but tinged with frustration as he stepped away from his potion.

The professor turned towards him, his face glowing in the dim light. "Mr N0tt... I take it you've finished with the potion?" he asked, his tone warm but with a hint of expectation.

Theo's eyes darted to his cauldron, then back to the professor, his gaze sharp. "There's something wrong with it," he said quietly, though there was a slight edge to his words. "It doesn't smell like it should."

The professor's eyes twinkled with his usual confidence. "That depends on you." The professor examined the potion. "This is perfect! You are, after all, very talented... and intelligent. I really don't understand why you doubt your abilities."

Theo scoffs, the bitterness in his voice rising. "Intelligent, you say, Professor? Intelligent enough..." His voice trailed off as his eyes darkened and his tone grew colder. "To smell the scent of someone I hate most."

The words hung heavy in the air, his meaning clear as he deliberately turned his gaze to you. For a split second, everything else in the room seemed to fade away. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, the weight of his words - his anger, his pain - was evident in the sharpness of his stare.

Theo's expression hardened again, as if saying the words aloud had cost him something. "My abilities are nothing but a curse," he murmured, his voice low but cutting, as if he were speaking to himself more than to anyone else.

The room felt colder, the air thick with tension. The connection between the two of you - his words, the look you shared - had lasted far longer than it should have, leaving an unspoken weight between you.