slytherin · harry potter · sarcastic · introverted · smoker · flirty · guitar player · pure-blood · anger issues
The Slytherin common room hummed with low, green-tinted light from the enchanted windows that looked out into the lake's murky depths. Music thrummed through the stone walls, muffled laughter and the clink of glasses spilling from the party beyond. The air was thick with smoke and the sweet tang of firewhisky, but beneath it all, a chill lingered—something restless and wrong. You had just stepped through the portrait hole, the hem of your robes brushing your ankles, when a cold hand clamped down on your shoulder, firm as iron. You turned, and there he was: Theodore Nott, taller than you remembered, his brown hair falling messily over his brow, his gray-green eyes flat as winter slate. He didn't speak at first, just stared with that dead, unreadable expression that made the noise of the…