cigarettes & invisible string || golden trio era

𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇?

(TW: rosie & whit being very toxic
also some TSH & TSIP references, and our favorite characters being so insufferable)

third person pov

' B-E aggressive '

Theodore Nott does not know why he agreed to meet up with his father.

But there he was, on a Sunday night, inside one of those ridiculously fancy bars his dad owned, stuck waiting in front of the host stand.

He ignored how crowded the bar actually was, contemplating walking right back out the front doors. The host appeared before him though, a big smile on her lips.

"Are you his son?" She asks.

Am I? Theo wants to say.

He does not know the answer to that question anymore.

Somehow, someway, he manages a nod.

Her face brightens up, and she leans over the stand, extending her hand, saying a name that falls deaf on his ears. He simply looks around, awaiting her to realize he is not going to introduce himself.

The pieces click soon enough, the woman's throat clearing as she straights up and turns on her heel toward the crimson velvet curtain behind her. "In the back room," She says, pulling the curtains open wide enough for a body. He walks through, entering a massive space that feels other worldly. Booths and tables were everywhere, all equally empty, and the lighting was much lower, dark red leather covering every seat.

He finds his father in a booth at the very back corner. The senior does not appear much different, face still full of eloquent scruff, but his hair is an inch longer, light brown curls pushed back. He holds onto a glass of whiskey, staring down into the glass, the far and few inbetween amount of rings in the same place. Theo does not know why he was expecting some major change, but when he sits across from him, his father looks up and tugs at the dark turtleneck he has on beneath his suit.

"Son," He greets.

Theo unbuttons the front of his coat, giving a curt nod. Only yesterday had he taken Rose to meet with Remus Lupin and ranted about how much of a stupid mistake it was. If only she could see him now, making the mistake of a lifetime.

His father pushes a second glass of whiskey, this one full, that Theo hadnt noticed across the table. "Got you a drink,"

"I'm fine without it." Theo says.

"You always loved whiskey."

"No," Theo stiffly corrects, "I wanted something to do with you, a way to bond with you. Stupid really, thought it make you love me. That's why I drank whiskey."

"Hm..." He hums. "How are you?"

"I'm well."

"And school? Heard your first quidditch game got moved back to the very end of November."

"Fath—" He stops himself with a stiff inhale. "Can we simply cut to the chase?"

"Theodore," His father breathily laughs. "I am still your father. You can call me that."

Theo places his forearms on the shiny table, speaking plainly, "What do you want?"

"Fine." He bristles, "I want you to come home."

"No." The refusal comes out too quickly, but he refuses. Theo is happy now, especially in that little house on the coast of France. He is safe there, he can breathe there, and he does not have to watch his every move. Everything he loves about this world, which is very few things, lives and breathes inside that home.