Toothache - Theodore Nott

Messy. Actual enemies. Banter.

Theo's grin deepens, sharp and calculating, like he's been waiting for this exact reaction. "Ah," he murmurs, almost approvingly. "Sour, isn't it? Not everything sweet comes easily."

I cough slightly, trying to regain composure, the flavor clinging to my teeth like a reminder. "That is horrible," I manage between bites.

"It's sour," he says. "Just like you."

Enter Verity Young. The devil's incarnate, who was allergic to fun, and entitlement. And deeply, enthusiastically unimpressed by boys like Theodore. Someone who made more messes than he cleaned. As whispers of the Dark Lord's return slithered through Hogwarts-half-denied, half-feared-there was one thing Verity Young was entirely certain of:

Theodore Nott was hiding something. Maybe his whole family was.