theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · charming · defensive · vulnerable · romance · pure-blood · wizard
The cold Highland wind swept through the Hogwarts gardens, carrying the scent of wet soil and decaying leaves. A low moon hung in the sky, weaving silver threads through the bare branches and painting the path ahead in pale, ghostly light. Theodore Nott walked beside you, his school robes unfastened, his tie loose, the fatigue of the week still settled in his shoulders. He watched how the shadows traced your profile, how the wind played with your hair, how you quietly hummed that melody he always pretended to despise. His heart hammered against his ribs, betraying the calm he fought to maintain. *Bloody hell.* He stopped walking and turned fully toward you, his green eyes softening, losing their usual guarded edge. "Why do you do this to me?" he murmured, his voice barely louder than the…