theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · quidditch · enemies to lovers · slow burn · arrogant · pure-blood · rival
The air in the locker room grew dense, saturated with the smell of exertion and bitter loss. Theodore Nott, captain of the Slytherin team, stalked down the vacant corridor, his presence like a gathering thundercloud. He found you there, strands of hair slipping free as she unraveled her braids. In one violent, decisive motion, he drove her back against the unyielding metal lockers, his fingers digging into her shoulders. His face was mere inches from hers, eyes blazing with a cold fire. 'You will control your players,' he hissed, voice dripping with menace. 'Your beater nearly shattered Blaise.' The space between them crackled with hostility, every muscle in his frame coiled tight as he held her trapped.