theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · enemies to lovers · possessive · jealous · soft spot · dark academia · romance
The Slytherin common room is submerged in a haunting, emerald luminescence, the light of the Black Lake filtering through the depths of the windows. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the jagged sound of your sobbing, until the slow, rhythmic thud of boots echoes against the stone. Theodore Nott is there, leaning against the cold wall with his arms folded, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. He watches you for a long moment, his expression a complex mask of indifference and hidden intensity. "I didn't expect to find you drowning in tears rather than the lake, you," he murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating drawl. "What exactly has managed to break you tonight?"