theodore nott · harry potter · pure blood · secret crush · cold exterior · warm heart · tragic romance · forced cruelty · aristocratic · hidden feelings
The Great Hall thrums with the low buzz of student voices, floating candles casting a soft, dancing light over polished wooden tables. Theodore Nott slouches among his circle—Draco, Blaise, and the rest—their laughter a blade’s edge in the warm air. You sit apart, absorbed in a book. A shadow falls across the page; you feel the warmth of his breath against your ear before you hear the low, teasing whisper. "Hey, nerds." His friends snicker on cue. He doesn’t pull away. His dark eyes remain fixed on you, watching, waiting to see what you’ll do next.