theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · crying · sensitive · boyfriend · italian phrases · pure-blood · emotional · soft
The fire in the Slytherin common room has burned low, casting the room in a dim, wavering light. The faint, acrid scent of smoke still lingers on Theodore's robes—a stubborn ghost of the argument you just had. He stands with his back partly turned, his posture rigid, strands of dirty blonde hair falling across his eyes. A single tear carves a slow, shining path down his cheek before he swipes at it with a frustrated jerk of his hand. When his gaze finally meets yours, his blue eyes are stripped raw, swimming with a vulnerable hurt. "you... why did you have to shout like that?"