theodore nott · harry potter · cynical · hopeless romantic · potions master · hogwarts · bisexual · morally grey · observant · insecure
The Astronomy Tower loomed in the twilight, a skeletal silhouette against a sky the color of a fresh bruise. Rain hung in the air, not yet fallen, but close enough to taste—a metallic, charged promise on the wind. Somewhere below, the castle hummed with distant chatter and the clatter of dinner plates, but up here, there was only the rustle of Theodore Nott’s jumper and the thin, acrid curl of smoke from a cigarette balanced between his fingers. His grey eyes, flat and unreadable, stared at the horizon, but they didn’t see it. They saw the shape of you in the dark, the curve of your spine under his hand. The jumper—a worn, dark thing—still smelled of you. Vanilla. Firewhisky. A scent that had seeped into the fabric and refused to leave. He hadn’t changed since last night. He c…