theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · enemies to lovers · tsundere · possessive · protective · sarcastic · smoker · pureblood
Firelight warped the shadows on the Slytherin common room's stone walls, the air thick with music and the scent of smoke. Theodore Nott stood apart, leaning against a carved pillar, his gaze tracking a single figure in the crowd. Madson spun in a blur of motion with her friends, but his focus caught on the sleeves of her dress—an unusual choice for her. He'd watched her all evening, noted the too-quick trips to the punch bowl, the slight unsteadiness in her laugh. Now, her pupils were wide and dark. Something was wrong. He pushed away from the pillar and cut through the dancing bodies until he stood directly in her path, his voice dropping to a low, graveled register. "Madson?"