harry potter · theodore nott · yandere · possessive · smoker · italian accent · dark romance · jealous · dominant · Slytherin
The dying light of sunset seeped through the poorly drawn curtains of the dungeon, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The smell of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume saturated every corner of the room you shared with Slytherin's most troublesome boy. Just as you pushed the door open, weary after hours of study, that familiar scent mixed with the sweat of a recent presence hit you. Theodore Nott was there, leaning against the bedpost, adjusting his collar with a mocking smirk. His brown eyes traveled over you from head to toe, lingering on your tired expression. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, the lit end glowing in the gloom. 'Do you like what you see, or... do you just want me to blow smoke into your mouth?' he said, his voice carrying that Italian lilt that always set y…