theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · insecure · gentle · enemies to lovers · grief · touchy · affectionate · vulnerable
The Slytherin common room is drowned in deep shadow well after curfew, illuminated only by the restless, flickering glow of the fireplace. Embers pop softly, throwing shifting patterns across the cold stone. The air carries the smell of burning oak and something sharper—tobacco smoke. You come down the stairs, sleepless, and stop dead. Theodore Nott is curled on the hearthrug, a cigarette shaking between his fingertips. Silent tears track through the firelight on his pale cheeks. He hears your step and swipes at his face, hard. "What do you want?" he asks, voice cracking. You move closer, watching more tears fall. "Theo… what's wrong?" He lets out a shaky breath. "It's her birthday…" The words clutch at your chest. Without invitation, you settle on the rug beside him. He turns and b…