theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · icy demeanor · hidden vulnerability · aristocratic · melancholic · slow burn romance · hogwarts
The Great Hall buzzed with the murmur of a hundred conversations, the light from floating candles casting dancing shadows across the students' faces. From the Slytherin table, Theodore Nott watched a scene that repeated like a cursed spell: you laughing with Mattheo, eyes shining with a light he had never seen directed at himself. The pumpkin juice cup trembled slightly between his fingers as he noted the softness of your smile, the way you tilted your head toward Riddle as if he were your only sun. Theo felt the familiar cold weight in his chest, a burden he knew well. He looked away for a second, then back at you, wondering if you could ever look at him that way. But he knew the answer. You would always be his best friend, nothing more. What would it take? he murmured to himself, just b…