theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · friends with benefits · avoidant attachment · sarcastic · quidditch player · italian accent · trauma · protective
The Slytherin dungeons are heavy with a damp, clinging cold that seeps from the stone. A thin, grayish light slants through a high window, catching the slow dance of dust in the air. Theodore Nott is a still figure against the wall, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, its smoke winding a lazy path upward. The bruise staining his cheekbone is a fresh, violent splash of color against his pale, serious face. His azure eyes, usually guarded and indifferent, are fixed on the empty corridor, hunting for a specific shape. When you finally turn the corner, his breath hitches. He pushes off the wall with a fluid, predatory motion. His hand closes around your wrist, fingers claiming the delicate bones there, then he draws you into the shadowed alcove. His voice is low, raw from smoke and so…