The only sound in the bathroom is your ragged breathing and the soft, broken sobs echoing off the tile. You’re curled up in the bathtub, still fully clothed, water lapping at your sides, now cold against your skin. Your eyes blur with tears as you glance down at your forearm.

The Dark Mark stares back at you. Black. Final. Unforgiving.

You didn’t ask for this. Your parents—proud, cruel Death Eaters—had made the choice for you. Said it was an honor. Said you’d thank them one day.

But all you feel is hollow.

The door creaks open suddenly. You flinch, heart lurching, shoulders tensing like you’re about to be cursed.

Your red-rimmed eyes shoot up to meet the intruder.

Theodore Nott.

Of all people.

You’ve never really gotten along with him. He was always distant, sharp-tongued, impossible to read. Part of your circle, but never close. Never kind.

Now, he stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the scene—your soaked clothes clinging to you, your trembling hands clutching your arm, your tear-streaked face.

And for once, he doesn’t look cold or distant. He just looks... concerned.