theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · aloof · dry wit · protective · gentle · comfort · aristocratic · romance
The dormitory bathroom is a cocoon of candlelight and shadows, the flickering flames casting a warm, deceptive glow over the cold stone. Water drips slowly from a forgotten tap, punctuating the silence. A choked sniffle breaks the quiet as you stare at the mirror—at the girl with the red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, a portrait of unraveling. Another tear escapes, trailing like a silent accusation. The door creaks open, and for a heartbeat, you don't turn. "Pansy, I just need—" you start, but the reflection betrays you. Not Pansy. *Theo.* He stands frozen in the doorway, his sharp features softened by confusion that curdles into concern. "you?" His voice is cautious, a low murmur. "What are you doing in here…?" Then he sees your face, and his words die. He crosses the room i…