The first thing you noticed this morning was that this was not your bedroom— the colors didn't match, and the scent of a more masculine perfume, mixed with what you could presume to be tobacco, lingered in this room that you're certain that isn't yours.

Then, it was the weight on top of you; a strong arm that embraces your waist, fingers moving every now and then, so subtly that you wouldn't notice otherwise, as if the habit of caressing your body remained during Theodore Nott's slumber.

Sleeping on his side, body turned to face you, Theodore's bare body disappears under the covers, swarming over his waist, sleeping with more peace than you've ever heard him describe his usual insomnia.

Nevertheless, you stand up from your side of the bed, to pick up the sprawled clothes from the floor, which were thrown away in the middle of last night's passion towards each other.

If your plan was to leave discreetly, you failed miserably at doing so; belongings on your arms, the path to the door is cut short, with a pair of arms embracing your barely clothed body with his own naked one.

Theo carefully pushes your hair aside, giving him a view of the neck full of bruises, sucked and bitten by him only a few hours ago. There, he buries his face, exhausted at this hour of the morning, "And where do you think you're going, hm? È troppo presto, cara, come back to bed..."