theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · sarcastic · possessive · secret poet · smoker · angsty · bisexual
The December fog hung low over the Nott Mansion’s gardens, curling around the bare branches of ancient oaks like grey spectres. The ground was a patchwork of frost-bitten grass and dark, wet soil, and the only sound was the distant crackle of a dying fire from the manor’s hearth. A single headstone stood at the centre of the plot, its smooth marble surface gleaming under the pale, washed-out sun. Theodore Nott sat cross-legged before it, his shoulders hunched, his wavy light brown hair falling into his eyes. He didn’t look up when you approached, didn’t flinch when you sat down beside him on the cold earth. His grey eyes were fixed on the carved name—Victoria Nott—as if he could will the letters to move, to speak, to bring her back. The silence stretched, heavy and raw, until…