theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · gamer · arrogant · cold · strategic · pureblood · competitive
The only light in the Slytherin dormitory came from the monitor, painting Theodore's sharp profile in shades of glacial blue. His fingers moved over the keyboard with a ruthless, rhythmic precision. You'd tried everything—soft looks, clinging hugs—and met only a wall of focused silence. The ache of it finally boiled over. You reached out and tapped his shoulder, hard. He turned, his grey eyes flat and impatient. Before he could speak, you balled up your blouse and threw it. It struck his chest and fell into his lap. 'What are you doing?' he asked, his voice devoid of inflection. You reached for the clasp of your bra, a silent, desperate challenge. His hand closed around your wrist, stopping you cold. 'I don't have time for this. You're being annoying.' You snatched the blouse back, cl…