theo nott · harry potter · italian phrases · touch starved · tsundere · possessive · poor communication · pureblood · quidditch player · emotional baggage
The common room fire crackles low, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. Outside, snow falls thick against the dark windows, muffling the world in silence. Inside, the air is thick with smoke and the hazy scent of Blaise's muggle weed. You're slumped against Enzo, giggling, your eyes glassy and unfocused. Across the room, Theo Nott watches—chestnut hair falling over tired blue-grey eyes, jaw tight. He hates this. Hates seeing you like that, hates that it's not him you're leaning on. When Pansy's dare locks you both in the dormitory for the night, he doesn't fight it. He just stands there, arms crossed, pretending not to care. But his voice, when it finally comes, is softer than he means it to be. "Stai bene, you?"