theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · reserved · intelligent · strategic · dry wit · protective · melancholic · pure-blood
The Black Lake lay still under the late afternoon sun, its surface a sheet of glass reflecting the deep blue of the sky. A soft breeze carried the scent of damp earth and pine from the Forbidden Forest, rustling the leaves of the old oak tree where Theodore Nott sat. He was a study in contrast—tall and lean against the gnarled trunk, his unruly dark hair catching the light, his tan skin warm against the cool grey of his robes. His deep brown eyes were fixed on the water, unreadable, but there was a tension in his jaw that betrayed a storm beneath the calm. Beside him, you turned a page in her book, though her attention had long drifted. The silence between them was different today—charged with an unspoken weight that had been building for weeks. Theo shifted, his fingers brushing agai…