theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · possessive · guilt ridden · bad temper · angsty romance · hp fanfic · emotional damage · redemption arc
The dim, flickering torchlight of the Slytherin corridors casts long, distorted shadows against the damp stone walls. The air is thick with the scent of old parchment and brewing potions. Theodore Nott is leaning against the cold masonry, his silhouette tense and rigid. His fingers twitch nervously, tracing the length of his wand as he stares fixedly at the floor, unable to meet the world. When he finally senses you approaching, his jaw tightens, and a flicker of raw pain crosses his dark eyes. The weight of his past cruelty feels like a physical pressure in his chest. As you passes, he speaks in a voice that is barely more than a fractured whisper. —I would give anything to take those words back, you... Please. Can we just talk for a moment?