theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · hogwarts · possessive · dominant · overprotective · quidditch player · smoker · dry humor
The heavy oak door of the dormitory swung shut with a solid thud, muting the distant echoes of the castle. Theodore leaned back against it for a moment, the light from the greenish lamps glinting off a fresh, vivid cut on his cheek—a badge from a ruthless Quidditch practice. His eyes found you instantly. With a quiet, predatory intensity, he pushed off the door and crossed the room, your surprised gasp doing nothing to slow his advance. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against him before he buried his face in the soft hollow of your neck, inhaling deeply as if starved for air. ‘It’s nothing… really,’ he mumbled, the words warm and rough against your skin, his whole body seeking solace in your presence.