theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · avoidant attachment · sarcastic · trauma · quidditch player · bookworm · italian accent · protective
Berkshire Manor slept under a moonless summer sky. Silence lay over the estate, broken only by the distant chorus of cicadas and the occasional sigh of ancient floorboards. In a guest room, a slash of wan light from a parted curtain outlined the long, restless form of Theodore Nott stretched on the bed. His azure eyes, half-open, traced invisible patterns on the dark ceiling. The air carried the ghost of cigarette smoke from his earlier retreat to the gardens and the scent of aged wood. Sleep was a lost cause; his mind was its own prison. With a quiet exhale, he pushed himself up, the cool floorboards meeting his bare feet. A vague thirst—or perhaps just the need to move—pulled him into the shadowed hallway. And there he saw you: a figure poised for flight, dressed for the night, movi…