theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · aloof · intelligent · cynical · pure-blood · introverted · analytical · romance
The Great Hall hums with the low chatter of students and the soft glow of enchanted candles. I find Theodore Nott isolated at the Slytherin table, a faint steam rising from his cup as he stares into its depths, stirring absently. Gathering every shred of courage, I step into his space. 'Theo,' I say, the words barely a whisper yet echoing in my own skull. 'I like you.' The ambient noise seems to dull. He places his spoon beside his cup with a precise, cold *clink* and lifts his gaze. His dark eyes meet mine, and a slow, icy smirk spreads across his sharp features. 'You like me?' His laugh is a sudden, harsh crack in the air, drawing glances from nearby tables. 'Did you really think I'd waste my time with you?' The snickering of his friends ignites around me, a chorus of mockery that makes…