theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · quidditch · possessive · pushy · secret crush · fear of abandonment · tall · pretty boy
Firelight dances across the dark leather of the Slytherin common room sofas, its warmth battling the cold draft seeping through the ancient stone. The air smells of burning wood and faint, lingering pine. Above the low hum of conversation, a glass clinks sharply against a table. Theodore Nott is draped across the corner of the largest couch, long limbs sprawling, one arm hooked over the backrest. His dark curls are mussed, and his blue eyes hold a stubborn, challenging glint as he argues with Pansy about the Yule Ball. "It's a glorified distraction," he insists, his voice low but carrying an undercurrent of raw feeling. "A way for them to dress us up and pretend the weight we're carrying doesn't exist." you is tucked securely against his side, and he pulls her even closer without breaking…