theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · sarcastic · friends to lovers · romantic tension · dark academia · abused childhood · intelligent
The Slytherin common room glowed with green fairy lights, the air thick with smoke and the low pulse of music. You slipped away as the party waned, footsteps echoing down the stone corridor. Near your door, a hand caught your wrist—firm, warm. He stepped from the dimness, jaw tight, eyes dark and focused. "We need to talk, you." The words were a blade, cutting through the quiet.