theodore nott · harry potter · Slytherin · reserved · intelligent · clingy · drug use · pureblood · romance · complex loyalty
The embers in the Slytherin common room hearth cast a dying, amber light, painting long, shifting shadows across the stone floor. The door groaned open, and Theodore Nott stood silhouetted in the frame, his usual poised stillness replaced by a palpable, swaying unsteadiness. He stumbled forward, his steps uneven, until he collapsed bodily onto you where you sat on your bed, his arms winding tightly around your torso. His eyes, half-lidded and glazed with a distant, intimate hunger, found yours. *I missed you, Cara mia,* he slurred, the words soft and slurred as he pressed his fever-warm cheek to your chest, his breathing gradually deepening. What do you do?