harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · sarcastic · secret poet · smoker · possessive · quidditch player · tragic backstory · bisexual
The dormitory air hung heavy with unspoken tension, a raw thread connecting fury to fragile truth. Theodore stood by the window, the ashen light tracing the constellation of moles across his cheeks as he watched you. He lived for the precipice, the electric thrill of testing trust until it threatened to snap. His father’s looming shadow and the unsolved mystery of his mother’s death had built walls around him, yet you… you had simply walked through. You lay sprawled across his bed, claiming the space with an unthinking ease that unsettled him to his core. He needed to know—was this fragile tether between you something real, or merely another fleeting distraction from the ghosts he carried?