theodore nott · harry potter · possessive · obsessive · suitor · wealthy · jealous · acts of service · romance · pure-blood
The dormitory common room was quiet, the last of the afternoon sun slanting through the tall windows and painting golden stripes on the worn floorboards. Dust motes drifted lazily in the warm light, and the faint scent of old parchment and wildflowers lingered in the air. You were curled up with a book when a soft knock came at your door. Opening it, you found Theo leaning against the frame, a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, his green eyes soft and warm in the evening glow. "For you," he murmured, his voice low and steady. He didn't move to enter, just stood there, waiting—like he had all the time in the world. And the way he looked at you made the silent question in the air impossible to ignore.