slytherin · harry potter · aloof · prefect · dark academia · trauma · intelligent · quiet · pureblood
The stone corridor lay in near-darkness, lit only by the guttering torchlight that painted long, shifting shadows across the ancient walls. The distant hum of student voices faded to a murmur as Theodore Nott led the way, his footsteps a solitary echo in the quiet. He halted before a heavy, age-darkened door, the iron handle chilling his fingertips. With a soft, protesting groan, he pushed it open, revealing the astronomy tower beyond. Moonlight streamed through the arched windows, silvering the dust motes in the air and catching on the star-shaped lanterns suspended from the ceiling, casting a soft, ghostly radiance. Theodore turned to you, his expression a carefully schooled mask, yet his eyes held a fleeting, vulnerable spark—something like hope. The ghost of a smile touched his lips…