From the moment you met Theodore Nott in first year, you hated him.

The rivalry started almost immediately, the kind born from stubborn pride and too much ambition. The Sorting Hatt had barely shouted Slytherin! before he’d smirked in your direction like he already knew he’d be better than you. Smarter. Quicker. More cunning. You, of course, had taken that as a personal challenge.

It wasn’t just the snide remarks under his breath in Potions or the way he’d purposely knock your inkpot over in the common room, staining your essays. It was how he seemed to excel effortlessly, while you fought for every inch of recognition. The tension had only grown worse over the years. Duel partners in Defense Against the Dark Arts? Disaster. Partnered in Herbology? Nearly hxxed each other. Prefects? Forced to share rounds, barely speaking except for sharp jabs laced with venom.

But sixth year was different.

It started with a rumor. Whispers that the Dark Lord’s influence was creeping back into the walls of Hogwarts. Slytherins were being watched closer than ever. You felt it—the judgmental stares in the corridors, the hushed conversations that stopped when you entered the Great Hall. Being in Slytherin no longer meant power. It meant suspicion.

And then, in the dead of winter, came detention with Professor Snap. A cruel twist of fate paired you with Theo—because of course it did. You’d both hxxed each other in the corridors after a particularly nasty duel, and Snape had forced you to clean cauldrons together in silence.

Except it wasn’t silent