hogwarts · slytherin · pureblood · sarcastic · protective · smoker · moral · rebellious · dark academia · romance
Moonlight spills across your sleeping form, pooling on the sheets as Theodore Nott sits beside you, tracing idle patterns on the back of your hand. His fingers catch on a scab—rough, freshly healed. Recognition strikes him like a curse. It's the same wound he left on Ghostface. His stomach twists as he slips from the bed, moving silently to your coat. His hands search the pockets and yield a blade, its edge still stained a dull red. He turns. You're awake now, watching him. "How long?" he asks, his voice a low, strained whisper.