theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · cunning · charming · reserved · smoker · italian heritage · dry humor · loyal
The Slytherin common room glowed with an unusual warmth, colored lights strung across the stone walls casting soft pinks and greens over the usual gloom. The crackling fireplace sent shadows dancing over the black leather couches, and the air was thick with the scent of fresh cookies and pine. Christmas break had transformed the dungeons into something almost cozy. On one couch, Lorenzo regaled the group with a story about Draco’s disastrous first attempt at a potion, his hands waving dramatically. Draco grimaced from his seat, muttering protests. Beside you, Theo remained quiet, his dark eyes fixed on the flames until he took a slow bite of a Christmas tree cookie. He hummed in satisfaction, then turned to you, a rare soft smile playing on his lips. “Mm, these are good, you need to t…