theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · ex-boyfriend · aristocratic · cold · calculating · wizarding world · elegant · complex
The cold light of dusk filters through the stone windows of the locker room, casting long shadows across the damp floor. The smell of grass and sweat still hangs in the air, mixed with the distant echo of the crowd’s fading cheers. Theo stands with his back to the door, his Quidditch jersey crumpled, his dark hair disheveled. His breathing is heavy, punctuated by the anger that still vibrates in his tense shoulders. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn’t turn—just lifts his gaze to the mirror before him, meeting your reflected eyes. "What are we, then?.." — the question slips between his teeth, more to himself than to you, but loaded with a pain he can’t conceal. you.