mwinor

𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍. 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅.

[mwinor]

I’m Mary, and I express most of my creative side through this account, designing it for you. I mostly write darker things, but sometimes I make something cute too — also for you. I’m open to any suggestions and edits! NoAI, but I use it to properly translate my works into English.

──────── ˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚────────

THEODORE NOTT

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MATTHEO RIDDLE

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DRACO MALFOY

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LORENZO BERKSHIRE

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OTHERS

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I also have character.ai

Letterboxb(idk why)

X

[mwinor]

Tomorrow, instead of my exams on the table, I want me under Theodore Nott.

[mwinor]

AFTER EXAMS ILL POST SMTH PROMISEEEEE

[mwinor]

It won't be so bad

──────── ˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚────────

⌗ Mattheo Riddle, angst, hurtcomfort, depression, physiological problems, mental health

word count: 673

note: everything will be fine, friends

McGonagall knew about this, so after receiving the note, she allowed you a flexible attendance. You liked studying, so you only missed classes in moments like these.

In moments of despair.

You did not even have the strength to get out of bed. Two in the morning. You needed to sleep… your gaze fixed on the wall, your face empty. Thoughts… they felt all tangled together. You thought about many things: about your parents, your friends, about life, about everything that had been in it. Dried tears rested on your temples and you no longer remembered whether they were from a yawn or from yet another imagined scene of how your mother would react to your death.

Death had not become something important or frightening to you. As you stared at the ceiling, you thought that it could simply collapse onto you and kill you, and it would not be particularly sad. Still, you would prefer to swallow a handful of pills, which you did not have, just like you had no sharp objects or even a hint of a rope in the room. Nor did your roommates, who were probably in class right now.

In the evening the psychiatrist was supposed to come for a check-up. You needed to take a shower… no strength. You wanted to die. You needed to brush your teeth. What if you just jumped? There was a magical restriction. At least you should eat something. Maybe bite through your veins? No strength.

A knock on the door, and someone entered without waiting.

— Hi.. — a familiar curly head.

You lowered your gaze and turned away again. You did not want to talk to anyone. Not even Matteo. No strength. No strength..

— I brought you… um… omelet with greens and coffee. You are not really supposed to have coffee, but I snuck it in, you kind of like it. — Riddle continued, stepping into the already familiar room with hot food.

You needed to eat. No strength.

Matteo sat down on the chair by your bed, trying his best to appear indifferent and calm.

— Draco is going to a match today. Thinks he will definitely beat Potter this time.

A match? The others were probably training too. Nott mentioned something about it… You should have wished them luck. No strength.

— Also, Astoria asked me to tell you she got back with her ex, — he said, going through all the news in his head.

Her ex? That bastard? He does not deserve her. You should tell her to go on a date with that nice guy instead and dump that idiot. Your mouth would not open.

— Oh, and by the way. Nott talked to his father and he will most likely be able to come with us to Sweden this summer, — Matteo said with a slight smile.

You looked up at him. That was good. Theodore needed a break from studying too, just like all of you. Studying…

— Want me to pass anything to them?

Finally, you looked at him. Not just glanced like before, but truly looked.

Matteo looked at you with hope. With genuine concern, clumsily hidden behind his usual smirk.

There were people who cared about you. You had them. You had people who would take care of you and would not leave.

There was strength.

— No, I will tell them myself later. — you replied in a hoarse voice.

Riddle nodded.

— Alright. I am skipping Transfiguration anyway, so I will stay here with you. Draco gave me a book about Ancient Egypt, so I will have something to do.

He took out the book and sat down on the floor by your bed, starting to read. Aloud. He was not interested in Ancient Egypt. It was your interest.

You watched his curls, his eyes, his lips, his smile. He was here, with you. He had always been here.

He gave you strength. There was strength, which meant you did not need to die just yet.

[mwinor]

GIDDY UP

[mwinor]

Nothing happened

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⌗ Rumors, mind games, NO LOVE, bad!TheodoreNott, angst(not for u)

word count: 2k

note: im sorry but i wanted it soooo muchhhhhhh

You were one of the most stubborn girls in Hogwarts. No one really even tried to flirt with you, as everyone knew it would be difficult. Your reputation drove boys away, yet attracted the exceptional ones.

Theodore Nott knew he would not get you just like that, so he began to build his plan. First, he told the Greengrass sisters that you were dating him, and then the whole school found out about it, believing every word.

The rumors did not affect you, you did not care at all. However, that did not mean you were not irritated by the looks, the questions and the whispers behind your back.

— Why did we hear about your relationship from Nott? — Parkinson asked, blocking your way along with Daphne near the staircase leading to the dormitories.

You were going to return to your room, rest, and this was the last thing you needed.

— Because it is a lie. Not one I came up with, by the way.

— Why would Theodore lie about that? — Greengrass asked, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes.

— No idea. But do not worry, you still have every chance to have passionate sex with him just like in your dreams. — you replied with the same aggression, walking past them and deliberately brushing your shoulder against theirs.

You did not notice him. Nott was sprawled on the couch in the corner of the common room, his face covered with a book, not wanting to see the candlelight.

Daphne, outraged, headed straight toward him.

— Theo, it was you who spread the rumor, was it not? — she asked, sitting beside him and placing her hand on his shoulder.

Blaise and Malfoy did not even look at her, sleepily staring at the ceiling, while Theo only shrugged.

— And what if I did? Is that so bad?

— That is childish. Do you realize how badly it will affect her reputation?

Blaise scoffed and closed his eyes. God, Daphne’s stupidity was a delight to his ears.

— You have never cared about anyone else’s reputation. Especially hers. — Nott replied with a smirk, removing the book and looking at her.

Daphne rolled her eyes and moved closer to him again.

— Why her? How am I worse?

It was almost funny. Too cliché. I do not even want to write this anymore… can we end it here?

— Greengrass, you do not understand, — Matteo drawled from the other side of the couch, barely holding back laughter, — Love.

All four boys laughed. They looked as though they had spent three hours at Quidditch practice. Which, in fact, they had.

— Nonsense… — Daphne narrowed her eyes.

— Now, Daphne, darling… — Nott reached out and ran two fingers along her cheek, making her tilt her head toward him, — Do you not understand? She is hot-tempered, smart, stubborn, she is… fire. And you are merely smoke. You follow me around like a little dog.

At these words the girl scoffed and pulled away from his hand. She stood up, taking a bored Pansy by the hand, about to leave.

— So she is a challenge to you? — Daphne asked.

— Well… something like that.

— I hope she finds out about this and what your stupid game is really about.

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You heard it. You heard it perfectly. You had not even managed to get up when you heard his voice and decided to eavesdrop on his entire plan. What an asshole.

You had always known that Theo was quite the womanizer and heartbreaker, but to be such a moral freak?

When you heard Greengrass leave the common room in frustration, you quietly stood up and went into your room, locking it. All your thoughts were occupied with that conversation. You paced, thinking it over.

It could not be denied that he was handsome. A very attractive body, beautiful hair, and his eyes… but not his personality. You could not build a healthy relationship with someone like that, even if he truly would love you.

Someone knocked on the door and, without breaking from your thoughts, you opened it, assuming it was your roommate or one of your friends. But no.

Leaning against the doorframe, Theodore looked at you. His smirk that irritated you so much, his dark eyes, messy hair… He was the very definition of charm.

You frowned, about to close the door.

— What do you want? The rumors were not enough… you decided to add fuel to the fire?

— Mm, do not be angry. I just came to check on you.

He walked into your room past you, shamelessly looking around the room you shared with Rosier.

You watched him, then closed the door.

— What do you want?

You should not reveal your cards right away and tell him you had heard their conversation, so you decided to slowly guide things toward your own plan.

— What do I want? — Theo asked rhetorically, sitting on your bed, — Nothing. Just your attention.

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer but not daring to sit beside him.

— Alright, alright, — he raised his hands in surrender, — I may have gone too far spreading that rumor. I am sorry. I just wanted you to admit that you like me.

Yes. That was exactly what you needed. The conversation was going in the right direction. There was no sincerity in his eyes, so you did not even feel sorry. You scoffed and finally sat beside him, tilting your head slightly.

— You want me to admit that you are actually handsome and that I would not mind sleeping with you?

Theodore was surprised. No, he was genuinely surprised. The smile disappeared from his lips and he stared at you, completely taken aback. He had expected another insult or mockery from you, but not this.

You twirled a strand of hair around your finger, tracing his outline with your gaze.

— I find you attractive. I would not even mind sleeping with you. It might even be pleasant.

Your hands fell onto his thighs as you moved closer, leaning over him.

— Still, I think you are an idiot. A handsome one, but an asshole.

Not many would dare call him an idiot to his face.

At first he was offended, flustered by your touch and surprised. Then he narrowed his eyes and replied:

— I do not like you. You are stubborn. You annoy me.

— That is not true, Nott. You like me. A lot.

You could not call it psychosomatics, but you knew how to use suggestion. Not only on yourself.

— I do not like rumors. They are amusing. But I would not mind sleeping with you, just once, without any consequences. Just for pleasure.

He stared at you in shock, swallowing. Sleep with him? For the first time, a girl was offering it without any continuation or relationship. He thought you were joking, but your touch and gaze made it clear you were serious.

He raised his hand and ran it along your neck, sending a chill down your spine.

— Just once? — Theo repeated, — No consequences?

You nodded and leaned closer, bringing your lips to his. He reached for you without even thinking anymore. You paused for a second above his lips, watching him with his eyes closed, waiting for your long-awaited touch.

He looked so… pathetic. Like those girls he had fooled.

Finally, you pressed your lips to his, holding him by the neck and drowning him in softness and affection.

You kissed him deeply right away, without any teasing.

Theodore pulled you onto his lap, at the same time trying to unbutton his shirt blindly. When you pulled away to help him, he whispered:

— You are not high? Not drunk?

Nott himself did not expect to ask that, because… he had never cared whether a girl was drunk.

— Nope, I do not drink. — you replied and kissed him again, hinting that he should shut up.

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(I am really sorry for this, but…)

You were lying on the bed, breathing more evenly than a few minutes ago. Your naked body was covered by a blanket, not entirely, but the most intimate parts were hidden. The book in your hands told a story of a calm and quiet love between a farmer and a princess. There would never be something like that between you and Nott.

He looked at the floor, buttoning his shirt and trying to come to his senses at least a little. His body still ached slightly from exhaustion, and certain parts of him had not yet calmed down. You had spent no less than an hour in the locked room, leaving both of you quite tired.

Theo looked at you. His clothes looked careless, his hair messy.

You raised your eyes to him and tilted your head slightly in question.

— Something else?

He lowered his gaze and shamelessly looked at your barely covered body. Not only lustfully, but thoughtfully as well.

— Nothing. I should probably go.

— And close the door, please.

Theodore scoffed and stood up. He picked up his cloak from the floor and walked toward the exit, not believing it had all been so simple. For a second Nott stopped at the door, looking at you one last time and at how casually you were reading your book.

— Fuck…

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The next day turned out to be surprisingly productive for a day off. You managed not only to finish all your homework, but also to watch Ravenclaw’s Quidditch practice, visit the library and clean the room together with your roommate.

At one in the afternoon you decided to get some fresh air and went out into the courtyard, sitting on a bench and immersing yourself in the same book as yesterday.

A couple of Slytherins passed by, their practice probably over as well, along with Zabini, a very tired Riddle, Malfoy and him. The one you had wanted to see all day.

Nott stopped, telling his friends he would catch up later, and walked toward you.

— Got a minute? — he asked, crouching in front of you.

His breathing was uneven, he clearly had not had time to rest yet. His hair was just as messy as yesterday, his clothes wrinkled, sweat visible on his face.

You looked at him and closed your book, leaning closer and resting your elbows on your knees.

— Speak quickly.

Theo scoffed. He studied your face without looking away. Without realizing it, he was staring at you, not wanting to stop. Nott missed that face.

— I just wanted to… clarify. What happened yesterday, was it really just once?

You sighed tiredly.

— I did not really like it, sorry.

The smile fell from his face. What?

Did not like it?

Theodore swallowed and looked at you in confusion, trying to find the right words. What you said threw him off completely.

— Did not like it? Just like that?

— Well, yes, — you replied, — And we had an agreement. You are not offended, are you?

Your innocent face began to irritate him. He stood up, now towering over you, and spoke again, this time displeased.

— Are you kidding me? I practically poured my soul out yesterday. And you talk as if nothing happened between us.

You scoffed and leaned back against the bench.

— But that is the truth, Nott. And what happened yesterday? That sex?

— Feelings, for fuck’s sake. You felt something too. It wasn’t just fucking sex.

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. Feelings? God, he really fell for it?

— Nott, you… think I like you? I am really sorry—

You did not have time to finish as he raised his hand, making you fall silent.

— You kidding me? Fuck. You feel nothing for me.

You finally stood up and took your bag, placing your hand on his shoulder.

— I am sorry, baby. Do not mess with your own head next time, alright? See you around.

— No, fuck… — Theo grabbed your hand, not letting go and not intending to.

He looked at you pleadingly. This time sincerely, you could feel it. Nott looked like a beaten dog. And it amused you greatly.

— Sweetheart… — you ran your hand along his cheek, then added more quietly — You just made it all up in your head. Go, get some rest, clear your mind. Well, not everyone’s life is a fairytale romance, right?

And then you kissed his temple and walked away with the same smirk, leaving him alone. Shocked. Broken. Offended. Now it was his turn to think about a girl as the meaning of his life.

[mwinor]

OH YEAH LETS GO. FINALLY THEO

(original: lilith4everr (tiktok))

[mwinor]

fuck, I hate this damn tiktok trend with Instagram notes. Astoria, don’t steal my boyfriend, I respect women and don’t want to shit on you.

[mwinor]

If Matteo Riddle were my friend, I’d definitely have a habit of ruffling his hair

[mwinor]

Apologize or sleep?

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⌗ Theodore Nott, fluff, comf, tired, protective boyfriend, clingy

word count: 715

note: déjà vu

The week had been difficult, studies pressed upon all the graduates as the exams were approaching. However, you, one of the best students, did not have to worry so much, so you prepared for everything you needed at your own calm pace. Still, that did not mean you continued attending parties.

And then a rumor reached you that some Ravenclaw girl had been clinging to a drunk Theodore, and he, apparently, did not even realize she was a stranger and simply nodded sweetly at all her attempts to flirt. If it had not been Matteo, who dragged the girl away, no one knows how that evening might have ended.

— Baby…

Nott looked at you with those same tired eyes you loved so much. But not now. Right now you were sitting at the table doing your homework while your boyfriend hugged your neck from behind.

You had every right to be upset with him. He was a bastard.

— Do not distract me, Nott.

Theodore frowned when he heard your cold tone and lowered his head, hiding his face in the curve of your shoulder. He kissed you, trying somehow to bring you into a proper conversation.

— Put the quill down, talk to me, please… I cannot bear this silence, darling…

— Then go away, — you replied, rolling your eyes.

You were solving numerology problems and, if not for your ability to do it automatically, you would not have solved even one equation, because Theodore was damn distracting. His warm breath on your neck, his hands, his kisses… were very tempting.

Nott lifted his head and let you go, this time moving to your side. He knelt down, took your free hand and kissed it. At this gesture you frowned.

— I told you not to distract me. Go entertain yourself somewhere else.

Theodore lowered his head again, this time onto your knees, and whined tiredly.

— Forgive me, please… I am such an idiot… — his muffled voice was heard.

His arms wrapped around your legs while the rest of his body was on the floor. You tried to ignore his clinginess and returned to your homework. A minute passed. Two. Five. Ten. After finishing a couple of equations you glanced down at him. He was still sitting there with his head on your knees.

At the sight of it you felt a little warmer, but the resentment had not passed.

— Nott, get up, — you said, running your hand through his hair.

The boy did not react at all. Then you slightly turned his head and… saw his sleepy face. He was asleep. What a… goat. After all that partying he had not even slept, running straight to you after hearing the rumors now going around about him. And now the shameless thing had fallen asleep on your warm knees.

You wanted to wake him, tell him to get lost, but… he was so cute. You really liked his sleepy face. Usually he was gloomy, cold, often tired and affectionate with you, however when he slept he looked especially vulnerable.

You smiled slightly, stroking his hair. He slept very deeply, he must have been terribly tired.

There was a knock on the door and you lifted your head, taking your wand and flicking it, opening the door from a distance.

At the doorway stood an equally sleepy Matteo, who entered the room without the slightest embarrassment. He had surely come for his friend. He looked at the sleeping Theodore and rolled his eyes.

— Not surprising…

For a while you looked at each other with understanding, and then he took Nott (with difficulty) and moved him onto your bed.

— Do you mind if he sleeps here? — Riddle asked quietly.

You shook your head. Matteo nodded and, saying goodbye, left your room, promising to come back for him later.

You smiled as you looked at your boyfriend, then left your homework and stood up, kneeling beside the bed.

He was beautiful. When he slept, it seemed to you that you were looking at a little boy who had only just begun to discover the world.

In moments like these you especially understood that he was the one with whom you would like to bind your life. Your heart.

[mwinor]

The Ball and Slytherins.

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note: guess which Netflix series I'm watching rn

The Governesses’ Ball is a special event. This year it was organized by England’s chief matchmaker — Lady Catherine. You clearly do not like being shown to men like cattle or merchandise, but you are quite satisfied that you have the right to choose your partner. The evening promises to be exciting and filled with new acquaintances. So whom will you choose?

─────── Draco Malfoy ───────

Lord Malfoy was known for his agreeableness and his particular talent for spoiling the mood of other men. He skillfully boasted of his fortune and the influence of his family, but that did not mean that this was how he charmed ladies. Since childhood he had grown up studying at the academy and was fond of various sporting games, as well as reading and music.

Who would have thought that today it would be a lady who caught his interest?

— You look as though you are ready to bite anyone who approaches, — Draco scoffed, stopping beside you, — I… would like to invite you to dance, if your dance card is not yet filled.

His smile immediately charmed you and you hardly had the right to refuse such a handsome face and such manners. But his words…

You scoffed and checked your card, pretending to be surprised.

— I am sorry, everything is taken…

— Do not stain your honor and soul with lies, my lady, — he tried to hide a smirk and extended his hand.

You yourself did not know what exactly interested you in him, but it would be a shame to refuse him on such a dull evening.

He danced skillfully, he had clearly been taught well. His movements were graceful and perfect, as though he had honed this art.

— Do you see that gentleman? He has already given the same compliment to three governesses, something about the beautiful shape of their eyes, — he said quietly during the dance.

You tried not to laugh, which was difficult, continuing to dance.

— And Marquis Nathaniel told Miss Victoria that she has exquisite taste in gloves.

At that you could not hold back and snorted, drawing attention. You tried very hard to hide it and calm yourself, but you struggled to do so.

— Milady, — Draco himself could not hold back a smile, but hid with his back the way you were laughing and led you aside, — It is uncultured to laugh so loudly.

— Your doing, my lord.

— I lightened the mood, am I not clever in this situation?

That only made you want to laugh even more.

— Good heavens, my lord, do not make the situation worse. Am I red?

Draco examined your face and shook his head.

He was handsome. Remarkably handsome. And his cheerful smile suited him far too well, which calmed you as you shifted your thoughts to that.

Malfoy tilted his head, slightly taken aback.

— Is everything alright?

When he noticed your gaze, you turned away shyly and nodded.

— Mother is most likely looking for me. I… should go. All the best.

You made a quick curtsy and hurried toward your family, leaving him alone.

Draco watched you go, smirking. He certainly ought to learn your name.

─────── Matteo Riddle ───────

Count Matteo was one of the most unknown figures in society, yet his name had remained spoken of for quite some time. His father was known for his bloodthirst and quite often led troops into wars, but after his death the county passed to his only son. No one knows his mother, and he himself rarely attends such evenings, however this time he came for the sake of a deal with one of the Barons.

Standing near the staircase, he awaited the end of the evening, as he could not leave earlier because of the watchful gaze of Lady Catherine, to whom he was grateful for her help after his father’s death. He thought that nothing more interesting than Marquis Fonde’s failed attempt at dancing would occur, but then he felt someone bump into his shoulder.

Turning, he saw a lady who was most likely very tired.

— Careful, — his voice was quiet and mysterious, which made you turn to him.

Enchanting.

You bowed in apology and smiled politely.

— I beg your pardon, I am terribly distracted today. You are… Count Riddle, are you not?

Matteo frowned, not particularly wishing to discuss his title. He nodded and replied:

— As you see.

— My father once served with your father. He often told me about it, — you said, completely unaware how unfortunate those words were.

Riddle snorted and looked away.

— Then your father probably mentioned that all those who served with my father also thirsted for killing just as he did.

At this statement you frowned involuntarily, jerking your head.

— Excuse me. Are you implying that my father is a bloodthirsty murderer?

— And you implied that my father is a murderer, — he replied just as quietly, smirking.

You rolled your eyes, which was rather bold, and then replied:

— I do not know what you thought you heard, my lord, but I have not insulted your father even once. And you should learn some manners. The rumors about you are true, you really are arrogant and rude.

At that his brows rose in surprise and he parted his lips, clearly feeling offended.

— I am rude? You should think before speaking, miss. Not everyone wishes to hear about their father.

— Then be so kind as to accept my mistake as ignorance and correct me. You behave like… like a child.

Matteo frowned and raised his voice:

— It is you who behaves like a bitch!

Many nearby heard this remark, including Lady Catherine.

You both glanced around awkwardly and smiled politely at the others, trying to show that everything was fine.

— This is your fault, — he hissed.

— No, it is your fault, — you hissed back.

You were ready to continue arguing until yet another gentleman invited you to dance. You gave Matteo a victorious smirk and accepted the invitation of some Baron, leaving him alone, irritated and charmed.

────── Lorenzo Berkshire ───────

Lord Lorenzo Berkshire, under the guardianship of Duke Lucius and Duchess Narcissa Malfoy, was perceived by everyone as the brother of Lord Draco. They had both been raised together since childhood, which for many remained a mystery. Some said it was merely to strengthen the families, while others spoke of Lorenzo’s mother, who was said to be Narcissa’s sister.

In any case, they were both arrogant. But in Lorenzo’s case, he was also far more cheerful. Not bearing the burden of the eldest son, he quite often amused himself, rarely remaining with one lady for long, though he was most often seen near brothels.

This evening he intended to find himself yet another lively company.

He did not notice you immediately, as you did not particularly wish to stand out among the crowd. What attracted him was not only the soft yellow color of your dress (his favorite), but also your gaze. Berkshire believed he could easily tell whether a lady was empty-headed or not simply by her eyes.

He approached you quietly, as if by chance, and stopped beside you. From his eyes it was clear that he had already drunk quite a bit, which affected his behavior in a particular way.

— Milady, a fine evening today, is it not? — he asked.

His smile was far too bright for this ball, drawing unnecessary attention.

You turned your attention to him and, smiling, inclined your head as you replied:

— Relatively. Do you enjoy the music?

— Certainly. Better than Byron’s last season.

You laughed softly, covering your mouth with your hand, which only made him smile even wider. He reminded you of your grandmother’s pleased dog.

Lorenzo opened his mouth to say another piece of nonsense, but he was interrupted by another young man. Marquis William, known for his determination and desire to win, approached you as though he had not noticed Berkshire at all.

He extended his hand, smiling politely and inclining his head.

— May I steal your dance, Lady?

It would have been impolite to refuse such a gesture, but the marquis did not particularly please you, which made a thought pass through your mind: “Five minutes of boredom…”

You were already about to accept his offer when the lord interrupted him.

— I beg your pardon, the lady has already promised her dance to me, has she not?

He looked at you with a more cunning smile. The alcohol had clearly gone to his head, otherwise you could not understand his desire to stand out so much.

At first you hesitated, not quite understanding, but then you nodded. You liked this game.

— Yes, I beg your pardon. And my dance card is already entirely filled…

The marquis awkwardly pressed his lips together and bowed once more, leaving without even saying anything.

At this situation Lorenzo laughed. In his eyes were those very yellow sunny sparks that made you smile as well. You tried to calm him, as he laughed loudly and drew too much attention.

— Forgive… forgive me, it is simply… well did you see his face at all? Like a beaten puppy, — he stood by the wall, hiding his laughter from the others.

You could not help but smile. This devil was far too contagious, and you did not have the strength to resist his infectious laughter.

Having calmed slightly, he looked at you with eyes teary from laughter and bowed,

— Ahem… so will you dance with me?

Perhaps you should not have agreed. There are many unflattering rumors about him, you had been told to beware of men like him. But something drew you to him, which made you incline your head and accept his offer.

— I promise, this dance will be better than if you had agreed to dance with the Marquis.

─────── Theodore Nott ───────

Duke Nott was one of the most somber, yet mysteriously captivating and highly desirable bachelors. His parents died when he was still a child, so he assumed his title quite early. He should have begun searching for a suitable match long ago, as his grandmother insisted, however he only truly took the matter seriously this year.

Theodore was in the library of Lady Catherine’s estate, clearing his head and mind. This event had not improved his mood and he had not met anyone who could interest him.

His reading of another book was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, which quickly slammed shut. In front of him, pressing her back against the door, stood a lady, clearly out of breath.

He spoke first.

— Are you… quite alright?

He was clearly surprised and even slightly embarrassed.

You only closed your eyes for a moment and stepped away from the door, catching your breath.

— I beg your pardon, there is… Marquis Fonde. Do not mind it, I simply did not wish to encounter someone… like that.

Theodore understood what you meant. Marquis Fonde was notorious for his enthusiasm in the company of young ladies, which was rather strange considering he had a wife and was already of advanced age.

Nott did not reply, only nodded and continued reading.

For a few minutes you remained silent, standing at a respectable distance from one another, just in case. Then the title of the book in his hands caught your attention.

— Oh! This is about the art of France, is it not? I have heard that at the Academy of Arts in France one may see the most famous paintings presented in this book.

Theo lifted his gaze to you and raised his brows in surprise.

— You are interested in art.

— Thanks to my mother. She… insisted that I be educated in many fields, including art.

Theodore was not a sexist, however it was the first time he had seen a woman speak about art not so superficially.

He was about to ask your name and perhaps begin a more extended conversation, but he was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. (A sense of déjà vu of some sort)

A mature woman entered the room, who did not notice Nott in the corner. She frowned while looking at you and said:

— Baron Bayron is there, come out of your hiding place at once and greet him.

You had no choice but to politely smile at Theodore and leave the room, leaving him alone.

For some time he looked at the door, surprised by the situation. Then he set the book aside and left the library.

It was a sign that it was time to begin acting.

[mwinor]

I'm going to act like you're my future boyfriend (Theodore Nott).

Do you really love me? Is my channel beautiful? Is my channel your type? If I start drawing furry Slytherins, will you still love me? 😔

[mwinor]

Don't ask me to do something for adults, I need to take my exams first.

[mwinor]

His tears.

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⌗ angst, loveandpain, tearfulmoments, comf, dating

word count: 1.5k

note: hint if u want something more cheerful

Your relationship with Theodore has never been burdensome. On the contrary, most often he would make concessions to preserve the bond with you, whether it was taking your side in an argument or simply obeying. Not that he was your errand boy — he simply liked it; he found romance and a special spiritual connection in it.

Still, that didn’t mean he was like that by nature. Many considered him rude and detached, especially with strangers. In your memories immediately comes the moment when Mattheo frowned in surprise as Nott nodded along to your nonsense about how, if you had a house, you would be the one in charge there.

Perfect relationships are not what creative people long for. Your mother often said that a writer isn’t a writer if their life is dull and ordinary. His addiction is not entertainment but a burden. And your lack of love for any person, including him — that is a dagger to the perception of the world and a full stop in thought. A dead end.

Rain brings melancholy. October is ending.

Your legs hang from the windowsill, swinging and showing contagious boredom. Today you looked especially wonderful. Lorenzo believed that your taste and desire to look beautiful every single day was the fault of your Polish roots, while Pansy claimed it was the natural charm of your family as a whole.

— You’ve got a beautiful hairstyle. And your hair in general.

Theo looked at you with those loving eyes, the way little children look at toys gifted by their deceased mothers. He sat on the floor, holding your legs and keeping a book in his free hand. He couldn’t read. Couldn’t focus. It wasn’t ADHD or dyslexia. It was you. His tumor, which he mistakenly thought was benign.

— Thanks. Curlers from Greece, Dad sent them.

Nott nodded and kissed your knee.

— I can’t get enough of you, my angel, — he whispered.

Again. You turned toward the window. Rain. Damn boredom.

Many think Theodore is more than perfect, but for you he’s just a doll wrapped in duct tape — too pitiful to throw away, but not something you want to play with either. Boredom, boredom, boredom…

You wanted to scream at him, but there wasn’t a solid reason to.

Sometimes you had to act capricious just to somehow dilute everything you were going through.

— Tomorrow they’re planning a card duel, I suppose it’ll be poker. Wear that black sweater, — you said in a deliberately detached tone without looking at him.

Theo nodded and kissed your knee again, pleading softly for your attention.

— And don’t talk to Loren. Don’t even say hi.

This time he didn’t nod. He froze. Then lowered his gaze.

Loren — his childhood friend. Nott had told you about their friendship a few times.

He was eight when his mother died. He stood by her grave, staring with an empty gaze at the tombstone. No tears. Only incomprehension of what had happened. A child’s mind couldn’t accept the death of a parent, so it seemed to him that his mother was still alive. Hallucinations.

Loren was the daughter of his father’s friend. When they played together, she often hugged him, calming him down. Little Theo didn’t know why. He didn’t see the tears flowing from his own eyes. The doctors diagnosed several syndromes, including Pseudobulbar Neurological Syndrome.

Loren was there for him. She went with him to therapists, checked on his condition, replaced his mother and the father who had abandoned him. She was his support. And his best friend.

They enrolled in Hogwarts in the same house and year, and since then had been closer than anyone. Until you appeared. You took all his attention, leaving only memories of her. But not out of jealousy. It was simply the only thing that stirred any emotion in him.

— Darling, what happened? — his face contorted into a grimace, either of pain or hurt.

— You’re too close, I don’t like it.

— I… I can’t. She’s a person close to me.

You rolled your eyes, finally looking at him. No, you weren’t irritated, you just craved more. Some drama.

— Closer than me?

Nott looked away and shook his head. He pressed his face against your knees, sighing languidly. You felt his hands start to tremble slightly as long, thin fingers gripped your ankles.

— I can’t, my angel… — his muffled quiver reached you.

— You’re questioning my choice? You can’t choose someone who isn’t your destiny, Theodore. Think reasonably.

He squeezed your skin under his hands again. You felt his heavy breath on you. You liked the way he worried, how he pondered, and the pain he felt then.

— She… she’s family to me. She’s always been my support. I can’t betray her…

You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back against the window. Come on, Nott, be obedient again. This is the trial you want to overcome.

— Do you hear yourself? You’re defending her, not me?

Your disappointed demeanor didn’t seem new to him, but he still looked at you with surprise.

He liked it. Honestly, without any exaggeration, it turned him on like crazy. He felt that just a little more and he could reach the peak without any effort. Even considering that it was about someone important to him. Who cares.

You turned detachedly toward the window again, frowning like the very rain.

— We’re different. I put you first, and you put others first. And you still think we should be together?

Damn it.

Not this.

Theodore’s face contorted in horror at what he heard. He dug his hands into the skin of your legs, pressing closer and kneeling. His plaintive and frightened face could charm anyone, just wish for it.

— No, you can’t say that… No… We’re connected, you said so yourself… — his voice trembled, bending under emotion.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and his heart pounded wildly, ready to leap from his chest and tear his clothes to shreds from the overflowing feelings.

You turned to him in surprise. He was crying for the first time. This… truly was new. My God.

You realized for the first time that something brought you more joy than writing. Male tears. You wanted to shout, “Cry! Wail! Even if the bitterness destroys you! Even if it darkens my soul!”

You couldn’t show your smile, so you turned away, frowning slightly again.

Theodore stretched out trembling hands and took your wrists. A long-forgotten book crashed to the floor, lost between your legs. Nott hurriedly began kissing your fingers and the veins along them, never taking his eyes off your face for a second.

— I don’t need anyone else, my angel, — his voice softened under the weight of his own words, — No one but you. Just… tell me what to do. I’ll fix it, I promise. Don’t leave me, I beg…

You turned to him again and looked down at his hands. They shook as if he were under some substance. Matteo also got nervous when he overdid it until losing consciousness, but it never gave you such joy as this did now.

— Just… set the proper boundaries. And forget her. I’m your close person now.

Hope flared in Theo’s chest, and he feverishly nodded, lowering his head to your knees, desperately willing to do anything, just to please you and not be abandoned.

— Okay… I will. I swear, I-I’ll forget her.

He took a shaky breath and lifted his tear-filled eyes to you.

My God, this was the very apex. His body trembled not only from fear but from intense satisfaction. He was ready to dissolve right there, looking even more pitiful.

— Theodore… — you raised your hand and stroked his cheek, softening slightly, but still looking stern, — Learn to prioritize correctly. In the future, you’ll have to make such choices more than once. Decide now who is more important to you.

— You, — he answered without a doubt, — It’s always you.

His eyes closed at the blissful touch of your hand on his skin. It was the first gentle gesture from you all evening, and he nearly sobbed from it.

You slightly parted your lips. Your chest rose and fell, and your eyes didn’t leave his face. He… he was simply magnificent. His eyes, wet and miserable… never held so much beauty as today. And his hands… you were ready to drown in them.

You inclined your head and finally softened, like a gingerbread after the whip.

— Maybe tomorrow we don’t go anywhere at all? Let’s spend the evening together, just the two of us.

Theodore felt immense relief when he lifted his head and saw your tender eyes. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he nodded, breathing in shallow, uneven gasps. He didn’t feel the salty liquid on his cheeks. For the first time in nine years, he was crying. Crying, fully aware and feeling it. Isn’t this the zenith? The true peak of pleasure?

— Thank you… — he whispered, laying his head back onto your hands.

His tears felt like holy water, and you like the Virgin Mother, merciful and wise. Your judgments — the truth, and your decisions — the only way out.

Even if he were an atheist, he would have prayed to you, kissing your hands before his own death.

[mwinor]

His sun.

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⌗ angst, hurt/comfort, post-war, introspective fiction, healing, trauma

word count: 1.1k

note: me me me

— It doesn’t quite work that way… — said Draco, carefully taking the wand from your hands.

A month had passed since the end of the war. A month.

His body was recovering slower than the golden boy’s, so he had to hide for a long time, afraid that the remaining followers of Voldemort would come for him.

Nowhere to hide. His father was in Azkaban, and his mother, drained by grief, had completely withered and, under Draco’s care, went to a psychological recovery center.

He himself was here. With you.

It was unbearably cold in the Malfoy manor, even considering the high temperature. He was cold from loneliness and lack of support, especially at this time. But who could he turn to? Blaise, who had almost lost a leg and was now in a coma? Matteo, accused a hundred times of every death because of his father? Or Theo, on the run with a time-turner? Nonsense…

He needed you.

You met when Draco was in London. His mother had sent him there before sixth year to rest alone, clear his mind, and recover before school. That’s when he met you — a non-magical girl from London.

You were the only one he talked to and didn’t turn away from in that city. Every evening you spent together. Malfoy would tell you about his studies at a “private school,” and you listened, unaware of the true nature of that mysterious castle.

After that summer, you only wrote to each other, but because of the war, he couldn’t anymore. Not because he didn’t want to or had no strength, there was simply no way. Everyone was watching him.

Then years passed, and he appeared in your life again. In front of you. On your porch. Completely broken and exhausted.

He had to tell you everything. He no longer hid his true self, tired of it all: of the endless attempts to escape reality, of the masks on his face, of his arrogance and upbringing. Draco told you everything, praying you’d accept him and believe.

And you did.

— That’s how they showed it in cartoons. Like in Cinderella or Aurora, — you said, leaning your hips against the counter and frowning slightly, more in confusion than doubt.

— Merlin… That’s… No, this needs studying.

Malfoy could barely stand, holding himself up on the wooden surface. His legs still refused to function properly, so he forced himself to walk.

— And little wizards? Do they study too? — you asked.

It seemed you didn’t particularly care whether he would fall, but your eyes followed his every move carefully. Cautiously…

— They just don’t use magic.

You sighed tiredly, glad to end this little debate — if it could even be called that — and gently took his forearm, helping him to sit.

He’d been here about two weeks, which meant about a week before that he’d tried to recover at home.

His eyes had stopped hurting, his knuckles had healed completely, his wounds were closing and only his legs still ached.

Malfoy was deeply grateful to you. You worked from eight in the morning to five in the evening as a waitress, then came home, helped him with physical therapy, cooked, and somehow it didn’t seem to tire you. He felt a small guilt for taking your time and energy, but he never apologized. Too proud.

That morning, you spent time together, though usually you were already at work while he was still asleep. This time, you’d been told to come in later, and he decided to wake up early to help with breakfast.

— You know, I could’ve sat down by myself… — he mumbled, lifting his still tired eyes to you.

There was a spark in your eyes. The one for which he was ready to give up the magical world entirely. He didn’t fully understand it himself, it drove him mad. These feelings tore at him from the inside.

You smiled, tilting your head to the side.

— You? You’re a cripple, Whitehead.

— At least I don’t exhaust myself with useless work, right, pauper?

You often exchanged sharp remarks. Though were they useless? You felt Draco recovered faster that way, forgetting the aftermath of war.

— You live off me.

— I’ll repay you when I return to the manor.

You just rolled your eyes and started setting the table: buns, porridge, nuts, fruit.

His presence brought healthy food back into your life.

— Thanks, — he muttered uncertainly, staring at his bowl of rice porridge.

He slowly picked up the spoon and began to eat, sometimes sighing heavily from the pain throughout his body.

You tried not to notice it, so as not to embarrass him.

— I’ll stop by the bookstore on Abbey Road today, hope I don’t run into any protesters. Do you want me to get you something? — you asked, sitting across from him.

Malfoy swallowed, lifting his gaze to you. It was so cold. But a pleasant cold, like morning dew in spring. And his hair, like lilies of the valley.

— Yeah. Something of your choice. But not romance.

— I’m not that stupid, — you snorted, taking a grape and popping it into your mouth, — Chekhov’s biography? So you can learn more about the lives of nargles.

— Muggles, — he corrected, looking back down at his food, — Nargles are… animals.

He could see them now, too. How strange.

Draco always looked sad. He slouched over the table, thought too much, slept often. You always tried to cheer him up. But not always. Sometimes you just talked. Or stayed silent.

That silence was comfortable. You ate quietly, sometimes looking out the window. Rain again. Draco hated rain. And London.

Fatigue overtook him again, and he placed his hands on the table, closing his eyes. You knew that in moments like this he just wanted silence, so you quietly got up and began to clear the table. When you reached to take his plate, he stopped you, gently taking your wrist and lifting his gaze to you.

Such… gentle and tired eyes. In them had gathered all the pain, physical and emotional, of the past years. He couldn’t bear it anymore. In his eyes was that same London rain.

— I… — he closed his eyes and shook his head.

Then he slowly pulled you closer, still sitting at the table, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his face against your stomach. He didn’t cry. He just couldn’t anymore.

You placed one hand on his hair, the other around his shoulders, stroking them softly.

Malfoy kissed your wrist tenderly and whispered:

— Sun…

After rain there was always the sun. And he hated that rain. He only ever wanted to see you. The sun. His sun.

[mwinor]

Tweets at Hogwarts!! (Mattheo Riddle)

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[mwinor]

New bot: Lorenzo Berkshire

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Golden boy

The Golden Boy. One of the smartest and most polite students at Hogwarts. He’d been on the covers of wizarding magazines, and his handsome face had broken a thousand hearts. Lorenzo Berkshire.

You were probably lucky to stay outside his social circle. No, you weren’t shy or plain. You just… didn’t care about what was trendy or popular. You liked handsome boys and thought Lorenzo was attractive, but looks weren’t everything — and the way he carried himself never really caught your attention.

That didn’t mean you never looked at him, never listened to the stories he loudly told his friends in the common room, or never flipped through the magazines that featured him. You were a girl, like any other.

Sometimes your friend, Theodore Nott, mentioned him in conversation. Theo often talked about his friends, especially during his bouts of apathy. You were glad your close friend had people like that around him, but you weren’t particularly interested in what Lorenzo ate or how impressive his last goal in a match had been.

— I… I think I’m hearing things again, — Theo mumbled, covering his face with a hand and sprawling across the bed. He looked utterly exhausted.

— Where are my pills?

— Check the nightstand,— you replied, skimming through the newspaper while sitting on the chair.

You spent a lot of time in his room and were already used to his oddities.

— They’re not here… — he muttered..

— Maybe Blaise has them? You know, Blaise always carries my pills around — just in case.

He spoke as if he were drunk, mumbling and rambling, still lying flat on his back.

You rolled your eyes.

— Maybe. Go check.

Theo instantly shot up, like a soldier, and dashed out of the room, tossing over his shoulder a quick, “Right.”

You were left alone.

Theo shared his room with two others: Lorenzo and Draco Malfoy. Even knowing that, you still couldn’t help but be surprised when, two minutes later, the door opened and the golden boy himself walked in.

He entered, shut the door behind him, and only then noticed you — sitting at Theo’s desk with the newspaper in your hands and your knees pulled to your chest. The two of you stared at each other, both waiting for the other to speak first.

Lorenzo broke the silence.

— Who are you? — he asked.

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