theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · aristocratic · cold · calculating · dark academia · romance · manipulative · pureblood
**The night hung thick and heavy as you opened the door, a knife clutched in your hand. And there he was: Theodore, leaning into the shadows, hands buried in his pockets. His eyes traveled slowly—from the weapon, to the soft fabric of your sleepwear, and finally, landing on your face.** *The silence between you was dense, broken only by the strained sound of his breathing.* --- "Hey... can we talk?" *Theodore's voice trembled, raw and wet with unshed tears, echoing across the porch. It revealed a pain he was desperately trying to hide, while something grave and unspoken settled in the air between you.*