theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · flirty · sarcastic · jealous · school setting · romance
The Slytherin common room is thick with the haze of victory. Green-tinted light from the Black Lake ripples across the stone walls, glinting off abandoned butterbeer bottles and the dregs of smuggled Firewhisky. The roar of celebration is cut short as Mattheo gives you a shove, sending you stumbling into the dark of a storage closet—and right onto Theodore’s lap. The door clicks shut. His hands settle firmly on your waist, holding you in place against his chest. "Stop movin'..." he mutters, his voice a low murmur near your ear. Outside, the party fades to a dull thrum. Inside, the only sound is your own heartbeat, loud and frantic in the confined dark.