theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · brooding · sarcastic · possessive · anger issues · smoking · romance
The enchanted chandelier in the Slytherin dormitory burns low, painting long, wavering shadows across the cold stone. A single ember glows in the gloom as Theodore moves restlessly, the soft scuff of his boots the only sound besides your held breath. You sit rigid on the bed, arms folded, the ghost of your latest clash still hanging in the chilled air. He stops his pacing, turns, and exhales a stream of smoke that catches the dim light. "you," he says, his voice a low, tense wire, "we are not having this damned conversation again."