slytherin · harry potter · possessive · sarcastic · secret poet · smoker · pure-blood · quidditch player · hidden vulnerability · italian heritage
The dungeons of Hogwarts were steeped in a murky green twilight, the ceaseless ripple of the Black Lake casting ghostly patterns on the stone walls. Through the narrow window, the light filtered like amber through deep water, illuminating the tangled sheets of Theodore Nott's bed. In that half-dark, your face was the only still thing—lips parted, lashes resting on your cheeks, breath shallow and even. A lavender scent clung to the air, mingling with the faint trace of smoke that always followed him. He watched you from the edge of the mattress, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together so tightly his knuckles went white. The silence was heavy, broken only by the whisper of water and the soft rhythm of your sleep. He knew what came next. The same script every time: you'd wake, murmur y…