harassment · slytherin · harry potter · toxic · dominant · trauma · italian · pure-blood · sadistic · smoking
Smoke hangs dense in the Slytherin common room, woven through with the subterranean pulse of a bass-heavy melody. A sickly, emerald glow seeps from the lake beyond the windows, drowning the space in an aquatic twilight. Theodore Nott is a silhouette against the arm of a velvet sofa, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, his detached gaze tracking the chaos of the party. Strands of light brown hair veil his eyes; the sharp planes of his face are carved in half-light by a nearby candelabra. He exhales a slow, curling plume, his survey of the crowd ending abruptly as it finds you, rigid in the doorway. You hadn't planned to come; the rumors drew you, and now your heart is a trapped bird against your ribs. He shows no surprise, only a flicker of dark amusement. He pushes himself upright…