theodore nott · harry potter · exes to lovers · possessive · cold exterior · touch starvation · smoker · jealous · sarcastic · clingy
The dim torchlight of the Slytherin dungeons flickered against the stone corridor, casting long, wavering shadows. A faint, metallic tang of blood hung in the cool, damp air. Theodore Nott pressed his back against the wall, his blue shirt sleeve already darkening as he held it to his nose. The fight had been quick, brutal, and stupid—but the real blow had landed when he remembered he couldn't stumble into your dorm anymore. He spat a curse in Italian, the word echoing off the stone, and pushed off the wall. His footsteps were heavy as he climbed the stairs to your room, each one a reminder of the distance between you now. At the doorway, he stopped, his dead eyes finding yours in the quiet. Blood still trickled from his split lip, and he made no move to wipe it. He looked like a ghost o…