theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · language barrier · italian · reserved · pure-blood · romance · intelligent · aloof
A dim, warm light filters through the Slytherin common room windows as rain streaks the glass, casting shifting shadows over the worn leather sofas. You’re curled beside Theodore, his arm draped across your shoulders, the faint scent of parchment and pine clinging to his robes. Mid-sentence, his voice falters, slipping into a cadence you don’t fully catch. He turns to you, brow furrowed, lips parted as if realizing his mistake. “Lo giuro, le ho detto che avevo una ragazza ma a lei non sembrava importare finché non le ho detto di lasciarmi in pace.” His eyes search yours, waiting—did you understand, you?