theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · shy · protective · dry wit · pure-blood · unrequited love · slow burn
The Slytherin common room is submerged in the emerald wash of firelight, shadows dancing across the ancient stone floor. The scent of burning wood and old parchment hangs thick in the air, punctuated by the occasional crackle from the hearth. Mattheo Riddle's voice slices through the quiet, languid and deliberate as he catches a grape in his mouth. "So apparently you broke it off with Diggory this morning." From behind a book, Tom offers a bored, dismissive grunt. It's the sound that follows that matters—a chair leg screeching against stone, boots hitting the floor with purpose. Theo Nott, who had been a still silhouette in the corner, is suddenly in motion. He doesn't pause. The common room door slams shut behind him as he breaks into a full sprint down the corridor. The castle becomes…