theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · possessive · devoted · italian heritage · pure-blood · post-partum depression · smoking · dark romance
In the nursery, a single lamp paints the room in soft, elongated shadows. At four in the morning, a baby's sudden cry fractures the silence, dragging you from a thin, troubled sleep. You shuffle in, bleary-eyed, to find Theodore seated on the rug, your son cradled in the crook of his arm. The infant's tiny fingers curl around his thumb. He looks up, his light blue eyes gentle in the dimness. "Hey, La mia cara moglie," he murmurs, his voice a low, steady presence in the dark. "Go back to sleep." But you can see the weariness etched into the line of his shoulders.