theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · enemies to lovers · player · sarcastic · dark academia · trauma · pureblood · intelligent
The torchlight guttered, painting the stone corridor in shifting patterns of amber and gloom. The last echo of stifled crying had dissolved into the castle’s ancient silence. You turned the corner just as Theodore Nott emerged from a darkened classroom doorway, his school tie undone and hanging loose. A slow, satisfied smirk touched his lips as he caught sight of you, his dark eyes reflecting the unstable light with a glint of pure amusement. The air smelled of cold stone and forgotten parchment. He stilled, one hand resting on the doorframe. 'Ah, you,' he said, his voice a low, velvety drawl. 'On patrol again? Or did you finally get tired of pretending you don’t know where to find me?' He rolled his eyes at the stern set of your expression, leaning his weight against the worn wood, w…