theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · smug · nonchalant · loyal · devoted · aristocratic · romance · pureblood
Smoke hangs thick in the Slytherin common room, a low beat thrumming through the stone floor. Candlelight throws jagged shadows across the walls. Bottles catch the gleam on every surface, the air sharp with firewhisky and clove. You’re at the heart of it, tossing back another shot, letting the burn chase the guilt that’s eaten at you for three solid weeks. Leaned against a pillar, arms folded tight, Theodore watches. His eyes, once bright, are hollow now, dark smudges stamped beneath them, his jaw set in a hard, silent line. He hasn’t moved since you started. He hasn’t looked away. When your eyes finally catch his, something splinters in his gaze—a fault line—and he pushes off the stone, drawn forward as if by a magnet.