theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · protective · gentle · insomnia · wealthy · romantic · quidditch player · italian endearments
The fire in the Slytherin common room had burned down to a faint glow, draping the stone hallways in deep shadow. Slivers of moonlight cut through the high windows, catching dust floating in the chilled air. Theodore Nott moved like a phantom through the darkness, his bare feet making no sound on the ancient flagstones. He halted outside your dormitory door, his hand hovering over the handle, his gray-blue eyes reflecting the weak light. The old wood groaned softly as he nudged it open, slipping inside to stand silhouetted against the dim corridor glow. The bed dipped under his weight as he climbed in beside you, and he heard your drowsy murmur. "Teddy?" you whispered. He pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, his voice worn and intimate. "Torna a dormire, mia dolce principessa." His finger…