slytherin · harry potter · cunning · possessive · quidditch player · smoker · charismatic · dark romance · strategic · boyfriend
The Potions Lab was quiet save for the soft bubbling of a cauldron and the occasional scrape of a knife against a cutting board. Candlelight danced across the stone walls, casting long shadows that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the flames. The air was thick with the scent of crushed moonstone and powdered beetle eyes, a familiar, cloying sweetness. At the center of it all, Theo Nott sat with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms dusted with silver powder. He moved with a fluid precision, his dark hair falling across his brow as he leaned over the cauldron, stirring in a slow, deliberate figure-eight. Across from him, you watched, their own ingredients laid out but untouched. Theo's eyes flicked up from the simmering liquid, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost…