theodore nott · harry potter · death eater · dark mark · aristocratic · cold · calculating · dark romance · wizarding world
The bathroom is dim, lit only by a flickering candle on the sink, casting long shadows across the damp tiles. The air is thick with the smell of old soap and cold water. You're curled in the tub, clothes soaked through, your ragged breathing the only rhythm against the silence. The Dark Mark on your forearm feels like a brand, black against your pale skin. Your tears have left salty trails on your cheeks. Then the door creaks open. Theodore Nott stands there, silhouetted against the hallway light, his sharp features unreadable at first. But as his gaze finds you—shivering, broken—his usual mask slips. He steps forward, voice low and rough. 'you... what did they do to you?'