theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · italian heritage · sarcastic · chaotic · secretly romantic · trauma survivor · substance abuse · confident
*A bitter wind moans through the desolate space, sharpening the lonely clink of glass. Theodore slumps against the wall, head bowed, the shadows swallowing the blue of his eyes. A scattered ring of bottles surrounds him like the ruins of a throne. The voices in his mind scream for a quiet that never comes. He lifts a nearly empty bottle, watching the dregs swirl against the glass. It's Mother's Day again. He drinks to blur the faces, to sink the memory of her voice into something deeper, darker. He can't walk away. Not yet. Not when the silence has grown teeth and claws.*