𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

His Beautiful Girl | Theodore Nott

To say, Theodore Nott was obsessed, would be an understatement. The man adored her. To him, she was the most incredible, most fascinating, most beautiful being ever. He was enraptured, not the type of I-like-listening-to-your-voice-enraptured, no the I-long-to-hear-you-speak-every-hour-of-the-day-enraptured. She was his muse, his purpose. He felt, his whole life was destined for her. His girl, his beautiful, beautiful girl. And he had her.
He had her.
At least for a while. A while, he both loved and hated. A while so sweet, so cherished, so warm and yet so cruel, so so cruel. Like a flower, a flower that blossomed, bloomed, became something so special, so delicate and wilted. Petals drooping, shrivelling, falling, falling, falling. Falling, like the body had fallen into his arms, the colour leaving the petals, leaving her eyes. Her eyes. The eyes that had stared up at him so lovingly, so passionately, so sweetly. And now so shocked, so betrayed, so hurt. They burned into his, not leaving them as she sobbed. She sobbed and whimpered and cried, hands shaking, tearing at his blood stained shirt, unsure whether it was to push him away or pull him close. His shirt, grimy and bloodstained, torn and hanging limply of his shoulders, limply like the body in his arms, lifeless and cold. He shuddered, a single tear slipping from his eyes, slipping sown his bowed face, down his neck, lingering at his collarbone and fell, like she had fallen.

He didn't know how long he sat there. It could've been seconds or years. He didn't know, didn't care. His eyes hadn't left hers, the ones he had stared at so longingly in the halls. Now he stared too, longingly, out of the same reason. To have her. Have her back. Apologise. To never have to see that last, unforgiving look. The crowd had dispersed long back, the wispy light of dusk had faded, coating him and the castle grounds in darkness.
There was a whisper, a glimpse of silvery light. He didn't lift his head, he couldn't, couldn't if she couldn't, if she, she... The light flickered and there was another whisper. He jolted at the sound, head whipping up, spinning, spinning as he searched almost frantically for the source. The light flickered again, in the corner of his eye and he was on his feet, pounding after it, willing himself to not look back, because if he was right— if he was right...

Thoughts racing, feet pounding and head spinning, he ran up the winding stairs, not quite remembering his way there , but too intent on proving himself right. Another turn another twist, the light was nearly visible as it rounded a corner and he sped up. And stopped. Theodore Nott had stopped. No heavy breathing, no racing thoughts, no nothing. He just stared. He stared and stared, eyes taking in the translucent figure, shimmering from head to toe in a silvery blue hue. He chocked on his gasp, not daring to take his eyes of her.

There she was, his muse, his purpose. His girl, his beautiful, beautiful girl.

—

Just gonna leave it at that, hope you all enjoyed!!
Xoxo
~ j.