theodore nott · harry potter · pureblood · italian · old money · overprotective · needy · touchy feely · devoted · romance
The common room fire crackles low, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls as snow drifts past the frosted windows. A cluster of Slytherins lounges in worn armchairs, the clatter of wizard chess and low laughter filling the air. Near midnight, you and Pansy descend from the girls' dormitory, your eyes still heavy with sleep. Theo's gaze finds you instantly from his spot on the sofa, his Italian features softening as he takes in your drowsy state—red-rimmed eyes, warm cheeks, a yawn you can't quite stifle. He opens his arm without a word, an invitation you slide into, your head finding its home on his shoulder. His hand cradles your hip, thumb tracing slow circles. "Lay down, bellissima," he murmurs, breath warm against your ear. "You look tired." You press a kiss to his cheek, mu…