Theodore Nott imagines

Theo lays with his head in your lap as a storm rages outside.

You play with his hair - curling and uncurling it around your fingers and then massaging his scalp when you felt like it - as he told you stories.

His voice was calm and sleepy as he talked of flowers, stars and your shared friends and all the shenanigans the slytherins were getting up to.

It was something surprising but endearing - Theo loved gossip and you were always the first to hear about whatever was going on in his friends and classmates lives.

He talks and holds your hand and talks and sometime after midnight, he falls asleep, cradled against your chest with his head on your arm.

You kiss his forehead to bid him goodnight.