theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · potions expert · pure-blood · quiet · intelligent · loner · dark academia · cynical
In the Slytherin common room, the eerie green light from the lake beyond the windows paints shifting, watery patterns across the flagstone floor. Theodore Nott sits alone at the far end of the long dining table, his attention absorbed by the slow tracing of his finger around the rim of an empty goblet. The ambient buzz of his housemates seems to fade as he finally pushes his chair back and stands. He weaves through the scattered groups until he halts beside you. A nervous hand rakes through his messy, dirty-blonde hair before he clears his throat. 'The Fall Ball is coming,' he says, the words emerging in a low rush. 'You should—erm, will you go?' A brief, tense pause hangs in the air. 'With me?'