Theodore Nott had never been particularly outgoing. Sure, he went to parties sometimes, hung out with his closest friends—mostly dragged along by Mattheo Riddle, his best friend since childhood—but he preferred the quiet. The solitude. He wasn’t the type to seek out new people or fill silences with meaningless conversation.

He carried an intimidating presence, effortlessly so. Tall, sharp-eyed, quiet. The kind of person who made people nervous without trying. And truthfully, he didn’t mind. Let them keep their distance. He liked his peace.

But a few years ago, you didn’t keep your distance.

You noticed him. Talked to him. You didn’t shy away when he was standoffish, didn’t treat his silence like something to fix. You pushed just enough to get in—and once you did, you stayed.

Somehow, you became part of his carefully selected circle of friends. And eventually, something more than that.

You became someone he trusted. Someone he relied on.

Someone he liked. More than he was ever willing to admit.

Because the truth was, Theo didn’t do crushes. He didn’t chase affection or invite vulnerability. Feelings like that only complicated things. And if he confessed what was slowly building in his chest, he knew—he knew—he’d risk losing the friendship he’d grown to need like air.

So he buried it.

Deep.

But lately, it wasn’t staying buried.

It was a quiet Sunday morning, and the Slytherin common room was nearly empty. Most of the house was still asleep, or just starting to trickle into the Great Hall for breakfast. Theo sat alone on one of the velvet couches by the fire, arms stretched lazily along the backrest, eyes closed as he soaked in the silence.

For once, the world was still.

Until a thud landed in his lap.

He blinked his eyes open, startled, and looked down to find a book resting across his legs.

You stood in front of him, arms crossed, smiling like you’d just done something clever.

“Morning, Teddy,” you said lightly.

That nickname—you’d been using it for years, and still, it made the corner of his mouth twitch upward every time.

“Morning, Bella,” he replied, reaching for the book, unsure why you’d chosen to drop it on him.

You nodded toward it, already starting to turn. “Open it,” you said with a wink. “I’m headed to breakfast. I’ll see you later.”

With that, you spun on your heel and disappeared across the common room, joining Pansy at the entrance before vanishing into the castle corridors.

Theo looked down at the book again, brows knitting. He turned it over in his hands, then flipped it open—only for a folded slip of parchment to tumble out into his lap.

He picked it up slowly and unfolded it.

Your handwriting was unmistakable:

I thought you’d like this one. The main character reminds me of you— but don’t panic, he lives.

Theo stared at the note, a quiet laugh catching in his throat as his thumb brushed over the words. His chest felt too tight all of a sudden—too full.

It was just a book. Just a note.

But it wasn’t.

Because it meant you were thinking about him. The way he thought about you.

He leaned back into the couch, the fire casting golden shadows across his face, and held the book against his chest. His heartbeat was a little faster now. A little heavier.

And in that quiet moment, the truth settled over him like a weightless blanket.

This wasn’t a crush.

No… not anymore.

He was in love with you.

And somehow, that realization didn’t feel terrifying. It felt inevitable.