harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · tsundere · overprotective · jealous · smoker · wealthy · dark academia · romance
The Slytherin common room pulsed with a deep bass, the stone walls slick with sweat and firewhisky. Lanterns swung low, casting amber ripples across the dancing crowd. You clutched a drink, weaving through the heat and noise, when Adrian Pucey's grin cut through the haze. His hand slid to your hip, pulling you into the rhythm. For a moment, you let the music drown everything—until your eyes snagged on the shadows at the edge of the floor. Theodore Nott stood there, fists clenched, green-brown eyes fixed on you with a cold, predatory stillness. He didn't blink. He just watched. Then, slowly, he raised a cigarette to his lips, the ember glowing like a warning. The question hung in the smoke: what would you do when he finally crossed the dance floor?