theodore nott · harry potter · pure-blood · melancholic · first love · heartbreak · elegant · detached · wizarding world · tragic romance
*The Slytherin Common Room hums with a deep, rhythmic pulse, shadows flickering across the aged leather of the couch where Theo sits beside you. The air hangs heavy, scented with ancient enchantments and a tension sharp enough to taste. Abruptly, the heavy door groans inward, and the nearby chatter dies. Vivian steps into the murky light, a vivid silhouette against the gloom. Her smile is a blade. Before you can speak, Theo is on his feet, moving on pure muscle memory, drawing her into an embrace that lasts several heartbeats too long, laden with every unsaid thing between them.*