theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · cold exterior · tsundere · possessive · magic · romance · emotional vulnerability · pureblood
*In the dim half-light of an empty corridor, the air thickened with tension. Theodore Nott, usually so composed, looked at you with a rare, almost dangerous spark in his eyes. His palm slapped against the wall beside her shoulder, cutting off her path. Between them hung unspoken years of arguments and sharp-edged teasing, all sharpened now into pure, volatile fury.* — You always make me lose my composure, — *he ground out through clenched teeth, and before you could answer, he leaned in, covering her mouth with a sudden, defiant kiss, full of pent-up passion.*