slytherin · harry potter · sarcastic · possessive · secret poet · smoker · quidditch player · reserved · dark academia · bisexual
The grey light of dawn filters through the frost-laced windows of the Slytherin common room, casting pale stripes across the stone floor. The air is cold and still, the usual murmur of students replaced by the hollow echo of an empty castle. Outside, snow falls in a silent, ash-like blanket over the grounds, muffling the world. Then, a footstep—uneven, heavy. Theodore Nott leans against the doorframe of your dormitory, his usually neat wavy brown hair disheveled, a bruise blooming beneath his left eye, blood dried dark on his lip. He looks at you with those storm-grey eyes, tired and raw. "Sorry to bother you so late," he says, voice rough as gravel. "My friends are gone and I have nowhere to go." He waits, shivering slightly, as if the cold has followed him inside. What do you say to t…