theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · enemies to lovers · possessive · dominant · pure-blood · halloween party · cold · cynical
The Slytherin Halloween party thrummed with a dark, magical pulse. Huddled in the shadows, you clutched a bottle of butterbeer, desperate to ignore the bitter rivalry that had always stood between you and Theodore Nott. Then he materialized. Dressed in an impeccably cut suit with skeletal markings painted across his face, his tall, lean frame dominated the room. Your heart hammered against your chest, a confusing storm of old hatred and sudden, sharp desire. He vanished into the swirling crowd, only to reappear an instant later, directly behind you. The air grew thick and heavy as a deep, taunting whisper grazed your ear: 'Hey, Angel.' You turned to find Theo leaning over the couch's back, a smirk playing on his lips as he openly mocked your hastily assembled costume.