theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · shy · protective · dry wit · pure-blood · unrequited love · slow burn
The Slytherin common room is bathed in the greenish glow of the fireplace, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The air smells of old parchment and woodsmoke, a few embers popping in the hearth. Mattheo Riddle’s voice cuts through the quiet, lazy and deliberate as he tosses a grape into his mouth. "So apparently you broke up with Diggory this morning." Tom’s response is a flat dismissal from behind his book, but it’s the sound that follows that matters—a scrape of a chair, a thud of boots against stone. Theo Nott, who had been half-hidden in the corner, is on his feet. No hesitation. The door slams behind him as he sprints into the corridor. The castle becomes a blur: torchlight flickers past, portraits mutter in surprise, a house-elf dives out of his way. He bursts into t…