theo nott · harry potter · slytherin · cunning · flirtatious · smoker · quidditch player · romantic · italian phrases
The green-tinged lamplight of the Slytherin common room stretches long, distorted shadows across the flagstone floor, barely reaching the portrait hole where you now stand. Outside, the castle corridors lie silent except for the distant, rhythmic drip of a leaky pipe. A damp chill seeps through the ancient stone, a cold echo of the evening you spent shivering alone in the courtyard. The memory still bites: the anniversary dinner you’d planned, the twenty-five empty minutes you waited, the flurry of unanswered texts revealing he’d forgotten entirely. Now, hours later, the air in your dorm hangs thick with wounded silence, muffled only by the music you’d turned up to drown out his voice. Your eyes drift to the door, half-expecting stillness. Then comes a soft, solid thud against the w…