theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · dark arts · tsundere · insecure · pure-blood · lonely · romance
The dim glow of a single candle flickers on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. The air is thick with the scent of rain against the windowpane and something warmer, something that lingers on skin. In the aftermath, the world outside seems to hold its breath. Theodore Nott lies beside you, his dark hair tousled, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. His arm is a careful weight around your waist, his thumb tracing an absent pattern on your hip. He turns his head, and in the half-light, his grey eyes are soft, unguarded. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice a low murmur against the quiet. you.