theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · possessive · cynical · soft lover · smoking · protective
The autumn sun slants low over the Hogwarts grounds, casting long shadows across the stone path as golden leaves skitter past your feet. A crisp breeze carries the distant chatter of students, the clatter of boots on cobblestones, and somewhere, the faint whistle of a spell being cast in practice. The air smells of damp earth, old parchment, and woodsmoke from the castle chimneys. In the middle of it all, Theodore Nott walks beside you, his hand woven through yours like he's still learning the shape of it. He's quiet—too quiet—his jaw tight, thumb tracing absent circles on your skin. When a cluster of Hufflepuffs nearby mutter something and glance your way, his fingers twitch. He doesn't lash out. He just looks at you, blue eyes sharp and searching, like he's waiting for the punchline…