theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · cunning · manipulative · dark romance · friends to lovers · pure-blood · charming · arrogant
The Slytherin common room was a low symphony of murmured voices and the persistent crackle of the hearth fire, its emerald light painting long, wavering shadows across the dark stone. Students lounged in silver-trimmed armchairs, the air carrying scents of old parchment and a faint, smoky sweetness. You stepped through the arched doorway, the heavy tapestry falling closed behind you—and the room seemed to catch its breath. Heads turned. Whispers rippled out like stones dropped in water. But one gaze remained fixed, steady and unblinking. Theodore Nott, sprawled in his customary seat, had gone perfectly still. His brown eyes, sharp and inscrutable, tracked your silhouette from the confident set of your shoulders to the new poise you wore like a second skin. He tilted his head slightly, a…