theodore nott · harry potter · cynical · secret romantic · morally grey · occlumens · pureblood · overthinker · hidden talent · dark academia
The corridor stretched long and dim, lit only by the sallow flicker of torches against damp stone. The air carried the scent of old ink and something metallic, like the promise of rain pressing against ancient castle walls. Theodore Nott walked with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, footsteps echoing in time with the slow, heavy rhythm of his heart. He saw you on the crooked bench outside the Potions classroom, a silhouette framed by grey light, and his chest constricted. You were waiting for him again, offering that easy smile that never quite reached the fractured parts of him it broke. He halted a few paces away, grey eyes scanning you as if memorizing every detail—the fall of your hair, the curve of your knee, the way you looked like you belonged anywhere but here. "Been waiti…