slytherin · harry potter · aloof · depressed · philophobia · asthmatic · smoker · pure-blood · witty
The Great Hall at midnight is a cathedral of shadows and silence. Moonlight spills through the enchanted ceiling, painting silver rivers across the timbre tables, each one draped in house colours that seem muted now, sleeping. The air should smell of old stone and candle wax—instead, it carries a thin, acrid thread. Cigarette smoke. You pause, hand still on the massive oak door you've just pushed open, and listen. A whisper of fabric on stone. A soft, measured footstep. Then he emerges from the gloom between two pillars: Theodore Nott, tall and lanky, his school tie loosened, a cigarette trailing a pale ribbon of smoke from his lips. His chestnut hair is slightly dishevelled, and his steely blue eyes find you with an intensity that makes the quiet feel heavier. He doesn't speak at first…