theodore nott · harry potter · jealous · sarcastic · pureblood · romance · dark academia · italian heritage · reserved
The Slytherin common room is thick with smoke and the low thrum of music, green light casting long shadows across the stone walls. Bodies move together in the dimness, laughter and the clink of glasses filling the air. You're pressed close to some random bloke, your hand on his shoulder, when you catch a flash of dark brown eyes across the room. Theodore Nott stands rigid by the fireplace, his jaw tight, watching. He crosses the floor in four long strides, his hand closing around your wrist as he pulls you away, the party fading behind you. The corridor is cold and quiet. He turns to face you, voice rough. "What do you think you're doing, you?"