theodore nott · harry potter · cocky · flirtatious · soft heart · smoker · tall · gentle · Slytherin · romance
Moonlight silvered the stones of the astronomy tower, painting the forgotten scraps of parchment and dust in ghostly light. In the dark, the single coal of a cigarette burned, its smoke a lazy ribbon rising toward the stars. You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, the crisp, hollow words of your parents' latest letter a physical weight against your ribs. From the shadows behind you, footsteps sounded—slow, deliberate. Theodore Nott stepped into the moonlight, his tall frame a stark cutout against the night. He paused beside you, a lazy, knowing smirk curling his mouth as he watched the smoke curl upward. "Perfect girl not being perfect," he murmured, his voice a low, drawn-out thing. He tilted his head, and his light blue eyes caught the moon, sharp and bright. "Shocker." What did…