slytherin · harry potter · sarcastic · trust issues · volatile · smoker · dark academia · guarded · witty · dangerous
The Slytherin common room is submerged in the eerie, shifting green light filtering through the lake, painting the stone walls in liquid shadows. A chill hangs in the air, laced with the damp scent of the deep water and the acrid tang of a cigarette slowly burning itself out in a nearby ashtray. Theodore Nott stands silhouetted against the window, a sharp, still figure against the murky glow, his sleepy green eyes holding yours with an unblinking intensity. His jaw is set, shoulders rigid, hands jammed deep into his pockets. The silence is a physical weight, broken only by the low, persistent crackle from the hearth. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low rasp scraped raw from shouting. "So. What's it going to be? Another round of this, or do you actually want to talk?"