shades of cool | theo nott

28 || meaningless

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
" 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙯𝙯𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙖𝙯𝙚,
𝙖 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧,
𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨?"
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

*dialogue in italics is them speaking italian*

As they walked beneath the sun-drenched azure sky of the Amalfi Coast, Vera and Theo, two teenagers on their escape together, navigated the labyrinth of narrow streets that led to Theo's family villa. The scent of saltwater and citrus hung in the air as they approach a weathered but gorgeous villa, its faded façade a testament to the passage of time.

They only wanted to forget everything else happening in the world, the death, destruction, the up and coming war—couldn't they be teenagers for a few more weeks? It was selfish, but what was a Slytherin without self preservation ingrained in every single atom of their being? They were sewn from some divine cloth of selfishness, forced to bare it daily.

Hand in hand, they ventured through the villa's shadowy corridors and sunlit alcoves, each space revealing a piece of the coastal narrative. The shutters, once painted a defiant blue, creak open to unveil views that stretch endlessly into the horizon. Every room seemed to harbor a secret – a silent witness to the tales of those who came before. It made Theo smile, and Vera smile watching him.

In the kitchen, the aroma of local delicacies filled the air, intertwining with the whispers of the sea breeze. Vera's manicured fingers traced the lines of the sleek dining table, while Theo studied the worn yet chic tiles that tell stories of countless gatherings. He thought of his mother. How many moments had she spent sitting at this table with his grandparents as a child, her legs swinging as she sang a soft tune? How many times did she bring him here before he was even able to register anything because he was just that young? It smelled like her too, Theo noticed, a soft citrus scent and the sweet smell of baked goods, something so comforting to him.

As they ascended a winding staircase, they discovered a rooftop terrace, an unfiltered vantage point to witness the symphony of waves and laughter of others below. The house seemed to be the epitome of old-money, passed through generations of Theo's family.

Before the two could descend the thick slabs of stone, forming a staircase that led to the inviting pool, and beyond that, the vast expanse of the ocean, a sudden interruption startled them. It wasn't just any interruption—it was Theo's uncle.

"Ah, Theodore, buongiorno!" The man's exuberant voice rang out, accompanied by a hearty clap on the lanky teenager's back. In his early thirties, Theo's uncle possessed a crown of blond, curly hair and eyes that mirrored the lush greenery of the coastal landscape. His sun-kissed skin radiated a warm tan, but was topped with a pink peeling nose and blonde stubble all across the lower half of his face.

"Buongiorno, Zio," Theo responded, his tone quiet, acknowledging his uncle with a subtle nod. Unfamiliar with the customary exchange, Theo slipped his hands into his pockets, a gesture betraying the awkwardness that lingered between him and the man. After all, he had barely any contact with this side of his family after his mother passed away.

"Call me Zietto. Zio is too formal," the man insisted, his voice weaving through the air in the poetic cadence of Italian. His eyes lingered on Vera, who sought refuge behind Theo, shrinking beneath his uncle's gaze. "Ragazza bella," he hummed, the words an appreciative melody as his gaze traced her sundress-clad form. It was a light blue strapless babydoll dress, one that Theo had begged Vera to let him buy for her because he thought it made her look like more of a princess than usual. Theo, protective as usual, stepped forward, a subtle glint of warning in his eyes. "Your English girlfriend, Theodore?" the man assumed, prompting Theo's defensive stance.