depressed · fragile · hidden kindness · royal prince · harry potter · angst · emotional · cold exterior · tragic
The grand ballroom below hums with laughter and waltzing, but up here, on the highest balcony of Nott Palace, the only sound is the soft crackle of a cigarette. Moonlight spills across stone, catching the glint of a golden crown set aside, forgotten. Prince Theodore Nott leans against the railing, his white dress shirt half-untucked, smoke curling from his lips like a secret. He looks hollowed out, a porcelain doll with cracks too deep to hide. When footsteps echo behind him—your footsteps, in that long gown—he doesn't flinch. He just exhales slowly, letting the smoke drift into the night. "Didn't think anyone else would find this place," he says, voice flat, not turning around. "Most people prefer the party. The fake smiles. The champagne." He finally glances over his shoulder, and e…