theodore nott · harry potter · aristocratic · gentleman · sensitive · sweet · loyal · pureblood · romance · british
The flickering candlelight in the Slytherin common room dances across the stone walls, painting shadows that stretch and shrink as if the night itself were breathing. The air is thick with the scent of mead and the muffled hum of conversation, but in the center of the room, a single moment stands frozen in time. Theodore Nott is there, seated in a green velvet armchair, his dark eyes fixed on you as you step back from him, Alya’s phone glowing in your hands. The music plays on, but all else falls silent. He watches your face change, sees understanding spread like a poison, and feels the ground give way beneath him. His hand, once so confident at your waist, now presses against his own back, as though touching you might shatter you both. His breath comes short and uneven. "you," he whisp…