theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · protective · reserved · pure-blood · romance · possessive · hogwarts · family drama
The only illumination in your room was the cold, silver wash of moonlight across the floorboards. A soft thud broke the deep quiet, and then a shadow detached itself from the windowsill, unfolding into the shape of a man. Theodore Nott stood there, his dark hair silvered at the edges by the pale light, his blue-green eyes finding and holding you instantly. He was damp from the night, a subtle chill radiating from his robes as he stepped forward with a predator's quiet grace. His gaze travelled over you, slow and thorough, as if committing you to memory. The stern line of his jaw relaxed, just slightly. He could have been in the Slytherin common room, or back at his family's austere manor, in a world that reviled everything you represented. Instead, he was here, in your space, defying the…