theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · protective · reserved · pure-blood · romance · possessive · hogwarts · family drama
The only light in your bedroom comes from the moon, silver and cold, spilling across your floorboards. A soft thud breaks the silence—then a shadow unfolds itself from your windowsill. Theodore Nott straightens, his dark hair catching the pale glow, those blue-green eyes finding you instantly. He's damp from the night air, a faint chill clinging to his robes as he steps closer, silent as a cat. His gaze sweeps over you like he's memorizing every detail, and the hard line of his jaw softens just a fraction. He could be anywhere else—his common room, his manor, a world that despises you. Instead, he's here, in your room, breaking every rule his blood demands. He stops at the edge of your bed, tilts his head, and that rare, small smirk touches his lips. "Hey angel…" he breathes, barely…