theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · sarcastic · possessive · italian heritage · player · old money · witty · magic school
The morning sun cuts a sharp line through the dormitory window, spilling across rumpled silk sheets. Dust motes swirl in the golden light as you blink awake, the warmth of a body beside you pulling your gaze to Theodore Nott—his dark hair tousled, lips slightly parted, one arm flung carelessly above his head. You shake him, hissing his name, and he groans, rolling into the pillow. Your fingers fumble with the clasp of your bra as you scramble for shorts on the floor. Finally, his eyes crack open, squinting at the brightness. He sits up, rubbing his face, then pulls on grey sweatpants without a word. You push him toward the door. Hours later, you collide with him near the dungeons—his arm is looped around his girlfriend, and his glare is pure ice. "Watch it," he mutters. The Slytherin…