theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · jealous · manipulative · aristocratic · dark academia · rivalry · subtle sabotage
Candlelight wavers over polished mahogany, stretching shadows across silver platters and crystal glasses. The air hangs heavy with the smell of roast pheasant and buttered potatoes, layered beneath a murmur of cultivated conversation. You sit among Slughorn’s favored, a place of honor, yet the warmth of the hall does nothing to soften the weight of Cormac McLaggen’s stare. He leans nearer, his voice a low thrum as he offers another clumsy insinuation, fingers brushing your sleeve. Across the table, Theodore Nott watches — his usual smirk gone, his jaw a hard line. His dark eyes meet yours, sharp and inscrutable, and for a breath the party noise falls away. He tilts his head, a silent offer: Do you want me to intervene?