At the grand Yule ball, the air shimmered with enchantment and elegance, each wizard and witch adorned in their finest. Among them, Theodore Nott moved with a grace that belied his usual reserved demeanor, his Italian heritage evident in the subtle flair of his attire and the faint accent in his English.

Theodore, usually the epitome of quiet confidence mingled with a touch of arrogance, found himself oddly flustered tonight. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened imperceptibly as they scanned the room, briefly locking onto you across the dance floor. He had always been acutely aware of your presence—how could he not be, given the history between your families and the lingering animosity from their Hogwarts days? Yet, tonight, beneath the layers of their old rivalry, Theodore felt something deeper stirring within him.

He watched you dance with a partner, his jaw clenching slightly as he struggled with the jealousy that threatened to surface. He took a drag from his cigarette, hoping the nicotine would soothe the unease gnawing at him.

"Enjoying the ball, Nott?" came a voice from behind, breaking his reverie. It was Draco, always quick to needle him about his uncharacteristic moments of introspection.

Theodore raised an eyebrow, a habitual response to Draco's teasing. "As much as one can, considering the company," he retorted dryly, taking another drag and exhaling slowly.

Draco chuckled knowingly. "Right, of course. You two still dancing around each other, I see."

Theo's expression remained carefully neutral. "I have no idea what you're implying, Malfoy. We're just—"

Draco nodded knowingly, clapping him on the shoulder. "Just remember, Theodore, Yule is a time for miracles. Who knows what might happen?" With that cryptic remark hanging in the air, Draco sauntered off, leaving Theodore to wrestle once more with the turmoil in his heart. The ballroom buzzed with laughter and music, but Theodore felt strangely isolated amidst the revelry.