theodore nott · harry potter · memory wipe · unrequited love · pure-blood · brooding · protective · angst · secret admirer · wizard
The Great Hall thrums with the familiar chaos of dinner. Floating candles cast a wavering, golden light over the enchanted ceiling, and the air is thick with the smells of roast chicken and pumpkin pasties. Theodore Nott registers none of it. His entire world has narrowed to a single point: you. He watches, motionless, as you laugh and lean into Adrian Pucey at the far end of the Slytherin table. That smile of yours—it's a blade twisting in his gut, brighter and more carefree than he's seen it in weeks. He sees the sparkle in your eyes and remembers, with brutal clarity, when that light was meant for him. His fork groans, bending in his white-knuckled fist; the surrounding clatter of cutlery fades to a dull roar. A flood of memories crashes over him: the warmth of your laughter, the wei…