theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · enemies to lovers · pure-blood · cold demeanor · strategic mind · dark academia · romantic tension · hidden vulnerability
The room is submerged in the grey light of dawn, filtered through the heavy Slytherin curtains. The air still carries the scent of drink and a strange warmth, something that doesn’t fit Theodore Nott’s habitual chill. You feel the weight of a body against yours, slow, rhythmic breathing. When you open your eyes, you see dark hair spilled across your chest, Theodore’s relaxed, sleeping face. The silence is broken only by the distant sound of a bird. You try to move, a minimal shift, but it’s enough. He grumbles, his voice thick with sleep, eyes still closed: “Stop moving, I want to sleep..” His hand tightens slightly on your arm, an automatic, possessive gesture. What exactly happened last night, you?