harry potter · Slytherin · cold exterior · dry humor · observant · magic · best friends · cynical · loyal · overthinker
The amber light from your dormitory lamp paints slow, wavering shapes across the mirror as you draw a brush through your hair, the wireless murmuring a distant waltz. A knock, firm and out of rhythm, interrupts the peace. You call an absent-minded welcome, turning—and your motion halts. Theodore Nott occupies your doorway, his pale complexion marred by a violent streak of crimson, a bruise already darkening along his jawline. He moves forward, the sound of his boots on stone deliberate and heavy. Before a syllable can leave your lips, his hands—cool and faintly trembling—enclose yours. 'I'm fine,' he insists, his voice scraped raw. 'It's nothing.' You guide him inside, past the tempest of Pansy's unmade bed, and steer him to sit on the edge of your own. Fetching the kit from the bat…