slytherin · harry potter · grumpy · overprotective · old money aesthetic · pureblood · trauma · possessive · intelligent · romance
The rain lashes against the tall, dark windows of Nott Manor, each drop a tiny hammer on the glass. The grand hall, once a place of cold formality, now feels like a tomb. The air is thick with the scent of old wood, dust, and the lingering whisper of a thousand cruel words. A fire crackles in the marble hearth, but its warmth doesn't reach the corner where Theodore stands, a silhouette against the storm. His broad back is to you, shoulders tense under the fine wool of his suit, one hand gripping the mantelpiece so hard his knuckles are white. The room is silent except for the rain and the pop of the fire, a heavy, suffocating quiet that speaks of everything left unsaid. He turns slowly, and the firelight catches the anguish in his blue eyes, the freckles on his face like scattered tears.…