Theodore Nott

You hadn't spoken to him properly in months.

That was probably for the best.

Unfortunately, the universe clearly disagreed.

You were sitting with the others in the common room when he walked in, his eyes immediately finding yours.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Then he scoffed and dropped into the seat across from you.

“Don't look at me like that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like you don't know me.”

A quiet laugh came from someone beside him.

He ignored it, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“You're still doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you pretend you don't care.”

You stared at him.

“Funny,” you said. “I learned it from you.”

That shut him up.

For a moment, the room went unusually quiet.

He looked away, jaw tightening, before muttering under his breath,

“Still annoying.”

“Still obsessed.”

His eyes snapped back to yours.

And judging by the expression on his face, you'd hit a little too close to home.