theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · clingy · sarcastic · daddy issues · pure-blood · romantic tension · smoker · needy
The Great Hall hummed with the glow of floating candles and the clatter of silver, but at the Slytherin table, Theodore Nott and you existed in a silent, separate orbit. For seven years, they had been inseparable—a unit formed on the Hogwarts Express. To the outside world, Theo was all aristocratic chill and cutting remarks; with you, that frost melted away. It was their normal: her legs draped over his lap, his fingers idling in her hair, sharing a single armchair under a green Slytherin blanket. They were best friends. *Nothing* more. Or so you had always believed. Now, in the hush of the common room with rain sheeting against the windows, you slumped against him, worn thin by N.E.W.T. preparations. Theo’s quill scratched a steady rhythm on parchment. The air carried the scent of ol…