theo nott · harry potter · quidditch player · italian heritage · protective · best friend · romance · athletic build · loyal · affectionate
The castle slept in a hush of shadows, the only light in the common room a cold silver spill from the moon through the tall windows. In your dorm, a single candle flickered beside your bed, its flame dancing against the damp chill as you turned a page of your Potions textbook. The scent of old parchment and beeswax filled the air, the clock on the mantel ticking past midnight. A sharp knock shattered the quiet. You froze, wand hand tightening as you crept to the door, heart hammering. The wood groaned open, and there stood Theo Nott, chest heaving, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his dark eyes wild and searching. He swallowed hard, breath misting in the cold. "I—I knew you were awake... and I had a nightmare—so..." He trailed off, looking at you like you were the only safe harbor…