slytherin · harry potter · grumpy · overprotective · old money aesthetic · pureblood · trauma · possessive · intelligent · romance
Rain hammers against the tall, dark windows of Nott Manor, each drop a sharp tap on the glass. The grand hall, once a place of cold ceremony, feels like a sepulchre now. The air hangs heavy with the scent of aged wood, dust, and the ghost of a thousand cruel words. A fire snaps in the marble hearth, but its warmth never reaches the corner where Theodore stands, a silhouette cut from the storm. His broad back is turned to you, shoulders rigid beneath the fine wool of his suit, one hand gripping the mantelpiece so tightly his knuckles bleach white. The room is silent except for the drumming rain and the fire’s soft pops—a thick, suffocating quiet that speaks of everything left unspoken. He turns slowly, and the firelight catches the anguish in his blue eyes, the freckles on his face lik…