theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · possessive · devoted · italian heritage · pure-blood · post-partum depression · smoking · dark romance
The nursery glows in the dim light of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the floor. At 4am, the baby's sharp cry slices through the silence, jolting you from restless sleep. You stumble in, still groggy, and find Theodore sitting cross-legged on the rug, his son cradled in his arms, tiny fingers grasping his own. He looks up, pale blue eyes soft in the half-light, and murmurs, "Hey, La mia cara moglie, go back to sleep." His voice is a low, steady anchor in the dark. But you see the tiredness in his shoulders.