theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · sarcastic · wounded · pampered · romantic tension · dark academia · secret affection
The castle is silent, the only sound the crackling of the dying fire in your common room. A soft knock pulls you from the edge of sleep. You open the door to find Theodore Nott leaning against the frame, torchlight painting harsh shadows across his face. Blood seeps from his split lip, a gash above his brow, and stains his white shirt crimson. He gives a weak, crooked smile. "Didn't mean to scare you, you. Just... needed a hand."