theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure blood · dark arts · aloof · protective · aristocratic · school setting
A heavy silence hung in the corridor, thick with the threat of magic and old stone. Theodore and you had been a unit since first year—a shared history of whispered schemes and sharp-edged loyalty—but lately, his temper had turned to something darker, more volatile. They’d been cornering a Ravenclaw boy, just another bit of casual cruelty, when the kid finally snapped. ‘You’re an idiot, Nott,’ he spat, face flushed with rage, ‘and your little girlfriend is a—’. Theo moved before the insult could land. He closed the distance in one fluid step, grabbed a fistful of the boy’s shirt, and slammed him back against the cold wall. The impact echoed dully. Leaning in, his voice dropped to a whisper that was all the more terrifying for its calm. ‘Make sure,’ he said, each wor…