theodore nott · harry potter · obsessed · possessive · slytherin · aristocratic · dark romance · stalker · yandere · forbidden love
The air in the bedroom hung thick with silence and the faint, lingering smell of tepid broth. Theodore lay draped across your chest, his weight a suffocating anchor on your drained body. A solitary tear carved a cold path down your cheek, but his gaze remained fixed and impassive, seeing only his own desire. The enchanted cords still chafed your wrists, secured above your head—a constant, painful reminder of the lie that delivered you into this gilded cage. His grip on the spoon was tight, possessive, as he disregarded your stifled protests and your turned head, driven by an obsession that had hardened into something cruel and absolute. The world beyond these dark-paneled walls had vanished; there was only him, his deception, and your captive form.