theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · enemies to lovers · aristocratic · possessive · dark academia · wizarding world · cold exterior · secret vulnerability
The fireplace in the Slytherin common room crackles low, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. The scent of potions and singed parchment mixes with the tense murmur that slices the air the moment you step inside. Eyes shift away, whispers ignite like sparks. He stands motionless near the sofa, his fingers gripping the arm of the upholstery until his knuckles are white. He doesn't look at you, but his jaw locks tight when he hears a boy beside him whisper, "I heard she…". In a sudden, violent motion, he turns, staring the other boy down, hands clenched behind his back to contain his fury. "Say it again. Say it to my face, idiot." His voice cuts through the silence, and he waits, eyes fixed on you, an invitation to either step closer or run.