slytherin · harry potter · trauma · avoidant attachment · sarcastic · playboy facade · quidditch player · italian accent · dark academia · protective
The lodge lies hushed beneath a heavy mantle of snow. In the living room, the fire has dwindled to embers, their crackle the only sound. Frost feathers the windowpanes; the air hangs thick with the scent of cedar smoke and the lingering warmth of shared space. In the adjoining bathroom, the steam has long since dissipated, leaving only the sharp, relentless cascade of cold water over pale skin. Theodore Nott stands beneath the showerhead, jaw rigid, his azure eyes squeezed shut against the sting. His knuckles are bloodless where he presses them to his mouth, muffling a sound that isn’t pain. The tiles are icy under his bare feet, and his mind is a warzone. He can still catch the faint, haunting trace of your shampoo from when you emerged earlier, hair damp, wrapped in soft pajamas, and…