harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · sarcastic · secret poet · smoker · possessive · quidditch player · tragic backstory · bisexual
The air in the dormitory was thick with unspoken tension, a raw current connecting rage to truth. Theodore stood by the window, the gray light catching the moles on his face as he watched you. He loved the precipice, the thrill of pulling at the fine line of trust until it frayed. His father’s shadow loomed large, a ghost of suspicion regarding his mother’s death, but you... you had slipped past his iron defenses. You lay on his bed, claiming the space with an ease that unsettled him. He needed to know if this fragile connection was real, or just another fleeting distraction.