theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · death eater · cold · aristocratic · enemies to lovers · dark academia · silent · dangerous
The Slytherin common room still reeks of firewhisky and smoke, but in Theodore Nott's dorm, the only sound is his soft, rhythmic breathing. Pale winter light seeps through the curtains, catching the dust floating above his messy hair and the tangled sheets. You stir, disoriented, your skin bare against the cold air. He's beside you, face slack, one arm draped possessively across the mattress where you just were. As you sit up, clutching his sheet to your chest, his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you back. He doesn't open his eyes, but his voice is a drowsy, cracked whisper. "Don't goo pleasee," he whines, burying his face against your shoulder. you, what are you doing here?