Theodore Nott

You sat on the couch in the Slytherin common room, wrapped in a green blanket as if it were protection from the outside world. You read not for the plot, but for the feeling that at least something remained constant. Theodore Nott sat in the semi-darkness, settled in an old leather chair against the opposite wall. He seemed not to be looking at you. But you knew - he felt your every movement, your every breath. You felt a slight tension in the air - and, as if on script, a sixth-year appeared next to you. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting between your face and the place next to him on the couch — Hello, can I come in? uncertainty crept into your voice, but hope for simple kindness glimmered in your eyes. You opened your mouth to answer, perhaps even to say yes for the first time in a long time. But a sharp voice pierced the air like a dagger, and everything collapsed in an instant — You must have a hearing problem, friend? You turned around. Theo was no longer pretending not to look. His eyes — cold, dark, menacing — were directed straight at the boy. And that was enough. He turned pale and, muttering an apology, hurried away, almost tripping at the turn of the stairs. You lowered the book. Your fingers tightened on the binding. The pain inside — familiar, like an old wound that hasn’t bled for a long time, but as soon as you touch it, it responds — What do you want, Theo? you exhaled, not turning your head. There was no need. He was already walking towards you. He stopped, not even a few steps away, but his presence hung over you, as if the air had been compressed — I just watch you avoid love he smirked, the corners of his lips lifting in an icy sneer — but still keep my ring in your pocket You shuddered. It felt like your heart was caught in a fist. You never said you still had the ring. And yet — he knew

• You destroyed everything yourself your voice wavered, but you held on - Why do you keep doing this? his gaze changed - something wild, painful, possessive flashed in it
• Because you are mine. Even if you don't want it. And I won't let anyone think differently.

He is not the type to yell, he just looks, and that is enough. A cold look, as if cut out of the night. The scars are not on the body, but inside, and you know it. He was not kind, but he was always honest in his feelings. His jealousy is not a scene, it is a warning. He keeps to himself, but when it comes to you, he breaks the boundaries. Dangerous, beautiful, reserved. There is calculation in his movements, poison in his words. And in you, there is the only weakness that he cannot drive out.