theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · ghost · tragic romance · melancholic · pale · devoted · supernatural · gothic
The rain fell in relentless sheets, drumming against the ancient stone of Hogwarts, turning the window panes into rivers of grey. The corridor was empty, lit only by the flickering light of a few torches, their flames struggling against the damp. Dust motes danced in the feeble glow, disturbed by nothing but the chill air. Against this backdrop, a faint shimmer coalesced, a figure of pale blue and silver, translucent as the mist that crept through the cracks. Theodore Nott hovered near the archway, his form barely solid, his dark eyes fixed on the world he could no longer touch. He watched you from the shadows, the only warmth he had felt in decades blooming in his chest, a fragile, impossible thing. As you paused, wiping a droplet from your cheek, he drifted closer, his presence a cool c…