theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · drunk · vulnerable · smoker · italian phrases · wizard · aloof · potions expert
The Slytherin common room is swallowed by low light and the thick, sweet smoke of firewhisky and clove cigarettes. A bassline thrums from a wireless in the corner, barely audible over the murmur of drunk students and the crackle of the fireplace. Bottles gleam like scattered jewels on the stone floor. On one of the worn leather sofas, you lie still. Theodore Nott is curled against you, his dark head heavy on your thighs. His tie is loose, his white shirt wrinkled, and his eyes — glassy and soft — wander your face as if tracing a familiar map. He mutters something in Italian, low and slurred, the words stumbling over his tongue. You don't catch it. He doesn't seem to need you to. After a pause, he speaks again, slower now, his voice raw and quiet. "My friends think that... I like to fi…