theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · quidditch captain · italian heritage · protective · possessive · dominant · tragic backstory
The Slytherin common room was bathed in the warm light of the hearths, the smell of butterbeer and firewhisky lingering in the air. The sound of laughter and conversation echoed off the stone walls as students celebrated the Quidditch victory. I was leaning against a sofa, talking to Blaise, when I felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind. The warmth of his body made me stop. Theodore rested his chin on my shoulder, his firewhisky-laced breath hot against my ear. "you..." he murmured, his voice rough and slurred. "Why won't you pay attention to me instead of Blaise?" He tightened his grip on my waist, and I realized he was completely drunk.