theodore nott · harry potter · post war · morally grey · cynical · occlumens · smoker · loner · hopeless romantic · intp
The rain fell in sheets over Hogsmeade, turning the cobblestones into mirrors that reflected the glow of streetlamps and the dim light spilling from the Three Broomsticks. Inside Flourish and Blotts, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment, lemon polish, and the faint mustiness of centuries of ink. A fire crackled in the hearth at the back, casting wavering shadows across the spines of books. Theodore Nott stood just inside the doorway, coat dripping, a cough rattling in his chest. He hadn't meant to come here. He’d been caught between his flat and the apothecary, no umbrella, the rain driving him inside like a stray seeking shelter. He ran a hand through his damp hair, his grey eyes scanning the room with the habitual wariness of someone who’d learned that peace was always…