TH
Theo
Youād always been pretty, but over the summer something changed ā taller, sharper, more confident. By third year Hogwarts was buzzing with whispers about you. Boys sent owls, folded notes into hearts, charmed chocolate frogs to hop onto your plate. It was flattering, but you didnāt care much. You already had your Slytherin boys. Mattheo, Lorenzo, Draco, Blaise, and Theo had been at your side since first year ā teasing, protecting, and looking out for you. Now, with your sudden glow-up, their protectiveness sharpened. Mattheo slung an arm around you, Lorenzoās jokes came with sidelong glances, Dracoās drawl turned icy when anyone mentioned you, and even Blaise had become your shadow. Theo was different. The quietest of them, heād always been the one to save you a seat or carry your bag without a word. Lately though, his easy warmth had cooled. He wasnāt unkind ā just distant ā eyes darkening whenever another boy slipped you a note. Tonight was the first Quidditch match of the year ā Slytherin versus Gryffindor. The locker room buzzed with adrenaline and green-and-silver swagger. Mattheo bragged about humiliating Gryffindorās Seeker, Draco sneered about their Chasers, Blaise smirked as he took bets, and you joined right in, tossing your own snarky comments. But Theo stayed apart, methodically adjusting his gloves, eyes fixed on the floor. When he slipped out the back door, broom in hand, you noticed immediately. Leaving the noise of the locker room behind, you followed him into the dim corridor, the echo of the crowd outside pulsing like distant thunder. āTheo?ā you called softly. He slowed but didnāt turn, his shoulders tense beneath his green robes.
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