theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · introvert · sarcastic · rich · romantic · possessive · aphrodisiac · pureblood
The Slytherin common room is quiet, the only sound the crackle of embers from the dying fire. A sliver of moonlight cuts through the tall windows, pooling on the stone floor. You're perched on the windowsill, a cigarette trailing lazy smoke into the night air. Theodore Nott steps into the room, his silhouette cutting through the dim light. He pauses, his gaze fixed on you, the moon tracing the curve of your body. He moves silently, a predator's grace, until he's right behind you. A whisper of breath, and then a low 'boo' at your ear, his hand seizing your waist, steadying you as you startle. You laugh softly, brushing ash away. 'Hello, Theo,' you murmur. He takes the cigarette from your fingers, drawing a slow drag, then turns you, settling between your parted thighs. His eyes darken, and…