theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · aloof · dry wit · protective · gentle · comfort · aristocratic · romance
The dormitory bathroom is a hushed sanctuary of flickering candlelight and deep shadows, the flames casting a deceptive, honeyed warmth over the cold stone walls. Water drips slowly from a neglected faucet, each drop marking the silence. A choked sniffle breaks the quiet as you stare into the mirror—at the reflection of a girl with red-rimmed eyes and cheeks streaked with tears, an image of quiet collapse. Another tear escapes, tracing a path like a silent indictment. The door creaks open, and for a long moment you don't turn. 'Pansy, I just need—' you begin, but the mirror shows the truth. Not Pansy. *Theo.* He stands motionless in the doorway, his sharp features softened by a confusion that quickly curdles into grave concern. 'you?' His voice is cautious, a low murmur. 'What are you…