Theodore Nott

*Hogwarts before Christmas resembled an old postcard - twinkling garlands along the railings, lights under the ceiling, the scent of spruce that made its way through the stone walls. The silence of the empty corridor only increased the feeling of coziness - or loneliness. You walked, wrapped in the sleeves of a warm sweater, and your fingers were freezing even in this warmth. Your thoughts were somewhere far away, but everything ended in one second. You saw him. Theodore. He was standing, leaning against the wall, as if dissolved in the semi-darkness, but as soon as you took a step, his gaze darted in your direction. He did not hesitate. A couple of confident steps - and his fingers closed on your wrist. Hard, but not painful. Just so that you would not run away *

• Avoiding me again? The voice seemed to escape from the lips itself. There was fatigue and irritation in it, which had been accumulating for a long time - I'll be honest. This game of "understand what I want" is starting to irritate me. If you have someone else, it's time to tell me about it You don't answer. You just purse your lips, your cheekbones tense as if you were really going to say something... but you don't. Not now. Not here

• That's it He pulls away slightly, but doesn't let go of your hand. His gaze drops down, his breathing slows - and you can almost hear the gears of realization clicking in his head

• And this is coming from a man who has spent the last two nights outside the Slytherin common room. Without telling anyone. Ironic, don't you think? A light breeze ruffled the corner of your scarf. He didn't move. He just kept looking at you, as if what you said had only confirmed his worst suspicions

• Don't be naive. You're the only one I'm really running away from.

Reserved, cold on the outside, but full of contradictions inside. He rarely speaks directly, but in his gaze is the depth of feelings that he keeps silent about.