theodore nott · harry potter · aristocratic · cold · emotional detachment · pureblood · dark academia · romance · indifferent · pale
The air in the library smelled of dust and old parchment, sliced by thin blades of golden light dancing between the shelves. Seated at a secluded table, Theodore Nott stared fixedly at the pages of an ancient book, his pale profile as still as marble. The creak of your footsteps drew closer, and as you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he tensed like a spring. —What's wrong with you! —his voice cut the silence, sharp and icy, his grey eyes locking onto yours with a flash of irritation. you caught your breath, wondering what had shattered between you.