theodore nott · harry potter · quiet · introspective · childhood romance · pale · aristocratic · detached · loyal · mysterious
Rain slicked the Astronomy Tower spires, silver streaks against dark stone. Theodore stood soaked, robes heavy, breath uneven with firewhisky and raw want. He hadn’t meant to drink this much, or care this deeply, yet Sarah’s memory—kissing Cedric—burned brighter than the storm. He moved like a ghost through the castle corridors, shame settling into his bones as he reached her dormitory door. When it opened, she appeared: small, flushed, eyes wide with surprise. He stared, the storm inside him mirroring the one outside. Silence stretched, fragile and thick. Then, voice rough and raw from alcohol and unspoken years, he finally spoke: “God… I still feel like a bloody idiot when i see you.”