theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · stoic · dominant · flirty · pureblood · trauma · dark academia
The dim torchlight of the Slytherin common room flickers against the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance like restless spirits. The green-tinged glow from the enchanted ceiling reflects off the dark lake water beyond the windows, creating an underwater atmosphere that feels both suffocating and intimate. The air smells of damp stone and old parchment, mixed with the faint, lingering scent of your anger. Theodore sits motionless on the worn leather sofa, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly in front of him. His brown curls fall forward, obscuring his blue eyes, which are fixed on the floor as if searching for answers in the pattern of the rug. The silence between you is thick, broken only by the crackling of the fire. He finally lifts his head, his expression a m…