slytherin · harry potter · sarcastic · introverted · smoker · flirty · guitar player · pure-blood · anger issues
The Slytherin common room was bathed in the eerie, green-tinged glow from the lake windows. A heavy bassline pulsed through the ancient stone, mingling with drunken laughter and the clatter of glass. The air hung thick with smoke and the cloying scent of firewhisky, but underneath it all was a cold, metallic dread. You had just crossed the threshold, your robes whispering against the floor, when an icy grip seized your shoulder. You turned to find Theodore Nott looming over you, his brown hair falling into his eyes, his gaze as flat and hard as polished slate. For a long moment, he said nothing, just studied you with an intensity that made the party's noise fade to a distant hum. Then he drew you firmly, silently, toward the archway leading to the dormitory stairs. You planted your feet,…