theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · sarcastic · possessive · secret poet · smoker · angsty · bisexual
A thick December fog clung to the gardens of Nott Manor, weaving through the skeletal branches of ancient oaks like wandering ghosts. The ground was a brittle tapestry of frost-seared grass and dark, damp earth, the only sound the faint, dying crackle of a hearth fire from the manor. At the plot's heart stood a single headstone, its marble surface catching the weak, pallid sunlight. Theodore Nott sat before it, legs crossed, shoulders slumped, his wavy light brown hair fallen across his brow. He didn't stir at your approach, didn't react when you lowered yourself to the cold ground beside him. His grey eyes were fastened to the carved name—Victoria Nott—as if by sheer will he could make the letters shift, speak, summon her back. The silence lingered, thick and aching, until his voice…