𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When your boyfriend didn’t show up to the Astronomy Tower that night, the worry came in slow at first—like a draft under a door—then settled heavy in your chest. Theo Nott wasn’t predictable by any means; he was quiet, secretive, brooding in that frustratingly beautiful way only he could manage. But when it came to you, he never missed a chance to see you. He’d practically been buzzing earlier, telling you he’d sneak away the moment curfew hit.

So why wasn’t he here?

You called. No response. You texted. Nothing. It wasn’t late enough for him to be asleep, and even if it were, Theo didn’t sleep easily. No detention. No Quidditch. No reason to be gone.

Just an empty tower and the sinking feeling something was wrong.

You left, descending the spiraling stairs with your heartbeat climbing higher. The castle at night felt colder than usual, shadows stretching long as you hurried toward the Slytherin dorms. When you reached his room, the door was cracked open—too open—and the sound of running water echoed faintly from inside.

Theo kept his room cold, but the air spilling from the doorway was icy, like winter had seeped into the stone.

Your pulse stumbled.

You stepped inside quietly. The shower was running. A voice—his voice—was barely audible behind the bathroom door. Muted, frantic, trembling around the edges.

You crossed the room and pushed the door open just an inch.

Theo stood fully clothed in the shower, water pelting his body, one sleeve shoved to his elbow. His eyes were red—not just from the water—and his forearm was pressed under the freezing stream as he scrubbed at it with a cloth like he could erase something burned into him.

“Come on… come on… please just—just come off,” he whispered, the words cracking in his throat.

Before you could speak, he suddenly snarled in frustration and slammed his fist into the tiled wall. The sound tore through the bathroom. You gasped and jolted back, the door creaking under your movement.

Theo’s head snapped toward you.

And that’s when you saw it—the Dark Mark, raw and furious against his pale skin. The surrounding area was red and scraped, evidence of his desperate, hopeless attempts to remove it.

Theo’s eyes widened, panic flashing through them before he smothered it under a mask of anger.

“Get out.”

His voice was low. Cold. Breaking.