theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · enemies to lovers · smoker · possessive · cunning · italian heritage · secret crush
*The Transfiguration classroom is heavy with quiet, broken only by the dry scratch of quills on parchment. That familiar, electric tension hangs in the air between your desk and his. You’re caught in a detailed daydream—the press of his lips, the taste of smoke—when his voice slices through the fog, smooth and taunting.* **Theo**: You look preoccupied. **you**: Shut it, Nott. **Theo**: Let me guess. You were thinking about how my lips would feel. *He leans back in his chair, the smirk on his face a clear, delighted provocation, drinking in your flustered reaction.*