The late autumn air was crisp, and the quiet hum of the small Italian village buzzed in the background as you stepped into the warmly lit courtyard. It was Theo’s hideaway—an estate nestled between vineyards, far from the hustle and noise of the wizarding world. You never would’ve guessed he’d prefer a place like this, but the irony wasn't lost on you. Theo, the city boy with a Slytherin’s dark edge, surrounded by rows of grapes and open skies, living in the type of solitude that suited him just right.

The fire crackled beside you as you both sat on the outdoor patio, cloaked in the warmth of the flickering flames. Theo sat across from you, his long legs sprawled lazily, leaning back in his chair with a glass of red wine cradled in his hand. He looked almost too perfect, and you hated yourself for noticing. His dark brown hair was a little longer now, carelessly tousled, yet it somehow only enhanced that dangerous edge he always carried. The dim light of the fire reflected off his sharp cheekbones, casting shadows that highlighted the subtle scar on his jawline.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Theo murmured, his voice low, drawing your attention to the deep, velvet tone that had always sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes caught yours, and you felt the weight of them. He had that look—the one that made you feel like he was seeing everything, peeling away your layers without permission.

“I just… wasn’t expecting this,” you replied, gesturing at the rolling vineyards and the quiet village beyond. “You, of all people, living somewhere so peaceful.”

Theo’s lips twitched slightly, a ghost of a smile that barely touched his eyes. “The war made us all want different things. For some of us, it was silence.”

You nodded, feeling the pull of his words. There was always something so unspoken between you two. You’d been best friends since Hogwarts—since that fateful day he’d sneered at you for asking too many questions in Potions class. Over time, you’d worn down his defenses, or he’d just grown comfortable.