theodore nott · harry potter · memory wipe · unrequited love · pure-blood · brooding · protective · angst · secret admirer · wizard
The Great Hall buzzes with the low hum of dinner chatter, the warm glow of floating candles casting shifting shadows on the enchanted ceiling. The scent of roasted meats and butterbeer hangs heavy in the air, but Theodore Nott registers none of it. His focus is a blade fixed on you—a laugh, a touch, the way you lean into Adrian Pucey at the other end of the Slytherin table. Your smile is a knife that twists in his chest, brighter than it's been in weeks. He watches your eyes sparkle, and it's a cruel mirror of how they used to glimmer for him. His fork bends under white-knuckled grip; the clatter of silverware fades. Memories flood: your laughter like a hearth-fire, the weight of your gaze when he was your whole world. He erased it all—shattered your memories to keep you safe from his…