Theodore Nott
@N0ttSorry
Followers
100
Following
240
Media
67
Statuses
2K
Theodore Nott #HPRP #NSFWRP #MVRP #21 🚫No Drama Please🚫 FC- Lorenzo Zurzolo
Joined July 2025
I didn’t mean to cross it. That’s the lie I tell myself when the room is quiet and your name won’t stop pressing against my teeth. It wasn’t a step so much as a pause— a moment where I could have stayed clever, could have stayed careful, could have stayed untouched. +
0
0
0
Theo Nott did not linger. He reminded himself of this as he stood just beyond the gates of Malfoy Manor, the iron cold beneath his bare hand, the house rising ahead of him with its habitual air of ancient magic, inherited authority, and the unspoken expectation that one +
0
0
0
walked back down the long drive, that was hardly remarkable. Winter had a way of exposing things one preferred left covered.
0
0
0
perhaps smiling—not brightly, not dramatically, but in that private way that felt reserved only for truths she didn’t share. It was nothing, he told himself as he made his way back past the wards. Merely gloves. Merely winter. And if his chest felt strangely bare as he +
1
0
0
“Well then,” Theo said lightly, stepping back as though retreating from something volatile. “That will be all.” The elf vanished. Theo turned away at once, before the Manor could register his expression. Before he could imagine her slipping the gloves on, flexing her fingers, +
1
0
0
gloves themselves. Lux, with her sharp perception and dangerous gentleness. Draco’s twin, yes—but long ago woven into the fabric of Theo’s life in ways no one had ever remarked upon aloud. She had been there in every season that mattered, quietly constant, impossibly familiar. +
1
0
0
heavier than it had any right to. 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑, it read. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼’𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. —𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑒 He could see it too clearly: Lux opening the velvet lid, her fingers brushing the gold embroidery before touching the +
1
0
0
placing the box into its waiting hands before doubt could intervene. “Lux.” The elf’s smile widened. “Winky will deliver them straight away.” Theo nodded—then paused, the smallest hesitation betraying him. The card inside the box suddenly felt +
1
0
0
hands and, if one were honest, to be noticed when they were removed. He adjusted the box once, unnecessarily, then summoned the elf. It appeared with a soft pop, eyes bright, ears twitching with purpose. “For Young Miss?” it asked, already reaching. “Yes,” Theo said, +
1
0
0
fine gold thread: a quiet, old-fashioned pattern that spoke of craftsmanship rather than ostentation. The sort of thing chosen carefully. The sort of thing that could not pretend to be casual. Inside, nestled like a secret, lay the gloves: supple navy leather, made to warm +
1
0
0
behave impeccably at all times. Lingering implied nerves. Lingering implied sentiment. Theo Nott had spent a lifetime perfecting the art of neither. The box beneath his arm was thin—but unmistakably elegant. Deep navy velvet, soft as a held breath, embroidered along the lid in +
1
0
0
Theo Nott did not linger. He reminded himself of this as he stood just beyond the gates of Malfoy Manor, the iron cold beneath his bare hand, the house rising ahead of him with its habitual air of ancient magic, inherited authority, and the unspoken expectation that one +
1
0
0
something fragile. Not because she is. But because she’s chosen not to be, with him.
0
0
0
step ahead gives her room to breathe, he’ll stay there. If silence is what lets her rest her guard without consequence, he’ll keep it. And when she stays—when she doesn’t retreat, doesn’t sharpen herself again—Theo lets himself acknowledge the truth of it. He’s holding +
1
0
0
be shielded. She needs space that doesn’t vanish the moment she relaxes into it. Her thumb brushes his knuckle—unthinking, brief—and the contact lands deeper than it has any right to. He swallows it down. He won’t make it heavier than she’s ready to carry. If staying a half-+
1
0
0
𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒. It isn’t a challenge. It isn’t a threat. It’s a line drawn quietly in the dark. He keeps walking, matching his stride to hers, the night air biting clean and cold around them. He knows better than to crowd her with reassurance. Pansy doesn’t need to +
1
0
0
unassuming, there. Someone says her name behind them. Theo hears the wrongness in it immediately. He feels the tension ripple through her before she masks it, sharp and familiar. He answers without looking back, his hand closing around hers just enough to be felt. +
1
0
0
careful not to spook it. Her hand rests in his with a kind of wary precision, as if she’s aware of the shape she takes even in something this small. He doesn’t tighten his grip into ownership. He doesn’t lace their fingers together like a promise. He simply holds on—steady, +
1
0
0
Theo notices the moment she chooses not to pull away. Pansy Parkinson is made of decisions. Every step, every glance, every withdrawal is deliberate. The absence of one is louder than any declaration. He doesn’t turn. He doesn’t slow. He lets the knowledge settle instead, +
Theo never asks me to soften. He just stands close like the world is allowed to be gentle with me, like the blade in my smile is only one part of the truth and not the whole performance people expect. We’re meant to be leaving like everyone else does, spilling down the steps »
1
0
0
And now, even when I stand on the safe side of things, even when I say nothing at all, everything in me leans toward you. That was the crossing. Not the touch. Not the words. Just the moment I understood there would be no going back and didn’t want to.
0
0
0