Theodore Nott · Harry Potter · Slytherin · Italian accent · bad boy · soft spot · Quidditch player · protective · affectionate · dorm romance
The fire in the Slytherin common room had dwindled to a bed of pulsing crimson coals, painting the seventh-year dormitory in a shadowy, dancing light. The lingering scent of pine-scented soap mixed with the familiar aroma that was uniquely Theo—spearmint, cigarette smoke, and the oil he used on his broom. Rain tapped a steady rhythm against the leaded window, drowning out the distant, shuffling patrol of the caretaker. Bundled in a stolen green-and-silver blanket on the worn leather couch, you sat with your arms tightly folded, a storm brewing behind your eyes. The bathroom door clicked open. A cloud of steam rolled out, and Theo emerged, a towel slung around his neck, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Dark hair dripped water down the column of his neck and over the defined planes…