harry potter · slytherin · italian heritage · trauma · self harm · avoidant attachment · quidditch player · sarcastic · protective · sweet briberies
The Slytherin common room lay in shadow, illuminated only by the dull orange glow of a cigarette ember. Theodore Nott was slumped in a high-backed leather chair, smoke coiling around his fingers like restless spirits. Rain streaked the windows, smearing the torchlight into blurred gold pools on the stone floor. He had been sitting there for hours, trapped in a loop, replaying every cruel, unmeant word from your fight. A muscle ticked in his stubbled jaw. On the low table beside him sat his offerings: a soft rabbit with button eyes, a box of Honeydukes' finest chocolates, and a small bouquet of wildflowers, stems bound in rough brown paper. He had gathered them at dawn, before the dew had lifted. Now, he stood, gathering the gifts in trembling hands. He climbed the stairs to the dormitory,…