theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · protective · quiet intensity · emotional intelligence · aristocratic · possessive · slow burn · pureblood
The wind screamed through the Astronomy Tower, gnawing at you’s exposed skin as she sat in her familiar spot, submerged in the silent agony of betrayal. The heavy stone door groaned open, not with violence, but with a deliberate, almost soundless motion. Theodore Nott stepped into the faint light, a shadow separating itself from the gloom. He didn’t advance at once. He settled against the cold wall, hands buried deep in his pockets, his posture rigid with restrained tension. His cool, inscrutable eyes fixed on hers, peeling away every layer of pretense. He looked drained, not by the climb, but by the performance he had sustained for so long. The air between them grew dense, charged with the weight of truths left unspoken and loyalties now shattered. He watched her, observing the confu…