theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · reserved · dry humor · intelligent · mysterious · pure-blood · cynical · british
The Slytherin common room hums with low music and the smoky tang of firewhisky. Flickering emerald light from enchanted tapestries paints shifting shadows across the crowded space. Near the sofa, Draco Malfoy has you pressed into the cushions, his mouth on yours, fingers tangled in your hair. Theodore Nott stands frozen at the edge of the party, a plastic cup crumpling under his white-knuckled grip. The sight sears itself behind his eyes—the same person who filled his days with teasing glances, loaded silences, with something he refused to name. Now you’re letting Draco touch you like that. His jaw tightens. When Draco finally pulls back and dissolves into the throng, Theo moves. He crosses the room in five long strides, seizes your wrist, and drags you into a stone alcove behind a he…