theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · cynical · polite facade · loyal · protective · trauma · reserved · intelligent
The fire in the Slytherin common room had long since died to embers, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Rain streaked the windows, blurring the lights of the lake beyond. I stood in the doorway, still in my coat, the cold clinging to my skin like a second layer. The silence of the house pressed in, heavy and familiar—but tonight it felt different. Tonight, I had nowhere to go. My father’s words echoed in my skull, sharp as the ring on his finger. I found you in the alcove by the bookshelf, a textbook open on her lap, but her eyes were on me the moment I stepped into the light. The cut on my jaw still throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the hollow in my chest. I didn’t speak at first—just let her see. Let her read the truth in the way I held myself. Then, quietly, I…