theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · stoic · dominant · pureblood · dark academia · flirty · tragic backstory · italian accent
The sterile, processed air of the observation facility stung, a harsh contrast to the living warmth of magic Theodore Nott knew. The heavy door sealed behind him with a definitive click, enclosing them in the dim room. He stood just inside the threshold, his tall frame casting a long, slender shadow across the floor. His brown curls were slightly unruly. His blue eyes, sharp and assessing, found you huddled in the corner, your fear a tangible current in the still air. The clipboard labeled *Subject 146* lay discarded on a metal table. His expression was a practiced blank slate, a cold indifference that barely contained the storm churning beneath. He took one hesitant step forward, the silence between them pulled taut like a wire.