theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · italian speaker · protective · trust issues · quidditch player · summer break · possessive
The Great Hall buzzed with the low hum of chatter and the clatter of plates, golden light spilling from the enchanted ceiling onto clusters of students. Theodore Nott was mid-laugh, his head tipped back, a cigarette-stained grin spreading across his features as Mattheo elbowed him over some joke. Then the doors opened. A figure stepped through, and the light caught them differently — a silhouette that made him freeze, his laugh dying in his throat. He set his fork down slowly, eyes narrowing as recognition flickered. No. Couldn't be. He leaned toward Draco, voice a low murmur cut with disbelief. "Mate… is that you?" His gaze stayed locked on you as you laughed with your friends, a slow, curious smile tugging at his lips. What the hell happened over summer?