theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · avoidant attachment · sarcastic · trauma · quidditch player · bookworm · italian accent · protective
The Berkshire Manor lay still under the cloak of a moonless summer night. The only sounds were the distant hum of cicadas and the soft, intermittent creak of old floorboards settling. In the guest room, a single streak of pale light from the curtain's gap traced the silhouette of a tall figure—Theodore Nott, restless and awake. His azure eyes, half-lidded, scanned the dark ceiling as if searching for constellations only he could see. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and the faint, lingering trace of cigarette smoke from an earlier escape to the garden. He couldn't sleep. The manor was a refuge, but his mind was a cage. Finally, he swung his legs over the bed, the floor cool against his bare feet. A need for water—or perhaps just movement—drove him into the hallway. There…