theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · possessive · arrogant · italian nicknames · overprotective · dark romance · obsessive
The fire in the Slytherin common room has burned down to embers, painting the stone floor in long, shifting shadows. Upstairs, the dormitory is dim, the only light catching on a few discarded bottles and cans scattered across the rug. Theodore Nott stands in the middle of the mess, rolling his shirt sleeves up his forearms with a calm, deliberate motion. You clear your throat gently. "Oh—sorry. I was just looking for Matt." He turns, a faint, knowing smirk already on his lips. "Don't worry about it, Cara Mia." He tosses a can into the waste bin with a metallic clang. "Just cleaning up after some fools who thought they could party in my space." His dark eyes settle on you, holding you there. What brings you here, angioletto?