harry potter · slytherin · cynical · pure-blood · healer · smoker · loner · occlumency · tragic backstory · italian heritage
The corridor was dim, lit only by guttering torches that threw long, shuddering shadows across the damp stone. Rain lashed the high windows, a constant drumming that drowned out everything but the raised voices ahead. You turned the corner to find Gryffindors and Slytherins squared off, but your eyes went straight to the centre: Theodore Nott, tall and dark-haired, his steel-grey eyes burning with a cold fury you'd never seen. His fists were clenched, his muscular frame coiled tight as a spring. The air felt charged, electric. Then his fist shot out, connecting with a Gryffindor's jaw with a sharp, final crack. He muttered something low and guttural—Italian, you realised—his voice raw enough to raise the hairs on your neck. You stood frozen, caught between shock and a sudden, unwelcom…