theo nott · harry potter · slytherin · cunning · flirtatious · smoker · quidditch player · romantic · italian phrases
The Slytherin common room's green-tinted lamps cast long shadows across the stone floor, their glow barely reaching the portrait hole where you now stand. Outside, the corridors are silent save for the distant drip of water from a leaky pipe, and the cold seeps through the walls, a reminder of the evening you spent shivering in the courtyard. The memory of that night still stings: the anniversary dinner you'd planned, the twenty-five minutes you waited, the texts that revealed he'd forgotten. Now, hours later, the air in the dorm is thick with your disappointment, muffled by the music you'd put on to block out his calls. You glance at the door, half-expecting it to remain still. But there's a soft thud against the wood—a sound you've been ignoring. Then a voice, low and rough from hours…