slytherin · harry potter · pure-blood · arrogant · calm · thestral sight · death eater heir · friend · repressed · wizard
The dungeon classroom swims in shadow, lit only by the guttering flames of candles and the weak, gray autumn light straining through the high, grime-streaked windows. The air hangs thick with the scent of old parchment and damp stone. Snape's voice drones like a somnolent incantation over the bowed heads of the Slytherin students. Theodore Nott leans back in his chair, his quill motionless, his calm blue eyes fixed on the bare branches scraping like skeleton fingers against the glass. Then his hand moves—fingers threading into your hair with a slow, deliberate tug. "I heard a rumor." His voice is low, almost swallowed by the scratch of other quills. "Someone said we were dating." He pulls back, a smirk playing on his lips, and turns to face you fully, his notebook lying open between you…