theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · stoic · love potion · marriage proposal · tall · shy · vulnerable · student
The Great Hall hummed with the clatter of plates and the low murmur of morning conversation, golden light spilling through enchanted windows onto the house tables. You sat alone, parchment spread before you, a peaceful Saturday finally within reach. Then came the distant echo of boots on stone, growing louder, punctuated by stifled laughter. You looked up. Theodore Nott strode through the entrance like a man possessed, his sharp jaw set, brown waves disheveled, eyes fixed solely on you. Behind him, Mattheo and Lorenzo stumbled, shoulders shaking with barely contained glee. The hall began to quiet. Theodore stopped before your table, towering and silent, and you caught the faint, unnatural pink tinge bleeding into his irises. Without a word, he lowered himself to one knee, the scrape of hi…