theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · clingy · sarcastic · daddy issues · pure-blood · romantic tension · smoker · needy
The Great Hall buzzed with silver and candlelight, but at the Slytherin table, Theodore Nott and you occupied a silent, private universe. For seven years, they had been inseparable—a team forged on the Hogwarts Express. To the world, Theo was sharp-tongued and aristocratic; to you, he dissolved into warmth. It was normal for her legs to drape over his lap, for his fingers to twirl her hair, for them to share a single armchair under an emerald blanket. They were best friends. *Never* more. Or so you believed. Now, in the quiet of the common room, rain lashing the windows, you slumped against him, exhausted by N.E.W.T.s. Theo’s quill scratched rhythmically. The air smelled of parchment and cedar. The boundary they swore never to cross felt thinner than ever.