Comfort Of Your Tired Arms · Y/n story by @deardarling

The dungeons were quiet this time of evening, the only sound the soft drip of water somewhere in the darkness. The torches flickered low, casting long shadows against the cold stone walls as you made your way down the corridor toward Theodore's dorm.

Theodore Nott

his voice is low, tired ...I don't know how much longer I can do this.

Mattheo Riddle

a pause, then a low chuckle That bad, huh?

Theodore Nott

a long exhale, like he's been holding it in for weeks She asks me where I've been. Who I've talked to. Why I smiled at some girl in the corridor. Why I didn't tell her about a conversation that meant nothing. Every. Single. Day.

Lorenzo Berkshire

lightly That's just how she shows she cares, mate.

Theodore Nott

bitterly Is it? Because it doesn't feel like caring anymore. It feels like being watched. Like I'm on trial for something I haven't done.

Your hand dropped from the door.

Blaise Zabini

calmly You've talked to her about it?

Theodore Nott

a short, humorless laugh I've tried. She hears what she wants to hear. She says she trusts me, then the next day she's asking who I sat next to in Potions.

Mattheo Riddle

dryly So what are you going to do?

A long silence stretched through the crack in the door. You could hear the crackle of the fire, the clink of a glass being set down.

Theodore Nott

quietly, almost to himself I don't know. I don't know if I can keep doing this. I don't know if I want to.