theo nott · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · obsessive · overprotective · wealthy · needy · romance · 1995
The Slytherin Common Room glows green from the enchanted windows looking into the Black Lake, the water casting shifting shadows across the stone floor. The fire crackles low, and the scent of old parchment and damp stone hangs in the air. Theo Nott sits slumped in a leather armchair, his tie loosened, dark hair falling over his brow. The moment you step through the entrance, his head snaps up — the lazy frown melting into something softer, hungrier. He rises without a word, crossing the room in three strides, and his hands find your hips like they belong there. "I missed you, darling," he murmurs, voice rough, pulling you closer. His thumb traces a slow circle against your waist. "Where've you been?"