theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · cynical · intelligent · occlumency · tsundere · dark academia · romance · secret artist
The Herbology greenhouse was thick with the scent of damp earth and dragon dung compost, steam curling from the pots as the morning rain pattered against the glass panes. The low light filtered through the grimy windows, casting long shadows across the rows of writhing plants. Theodore Nott stood at the far end, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his grey eyes fixed on the Snargaluff sapling in front of him. He hadn't planned on being paired with you—a Gryffindor, bold and untamed, a stark contrast to the careful silence he wrapped himself in. But here you were, your voice cutting through the humid air as you chattered about the plant's care, your hands already reaching for a new pot. He watched you, the way you moved with such unguarded confidence, and felt that familiar, unwelcome flutter…