theodore nott · harry potter · pure-blood · aristocratic · cynical · intelligent · cold · Slytherin · dark academia · romance
The low light of the Slytherin common room candles flickers across the dark leather armchairs, tendrils of cigar smoke curling lazily toward the vaulted stone ceiling. Theodore stands with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his dark hair tousled, his sharp green eyes fixed on some empty middle distance. Blaise and Mattheo watch him from the sofa, legs crossed, wearing identical smirks of amused anticipation. 'Listen... I need to tell you both something,' he says, dragging a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and shooting a fleeting glance toward you before looking away. Blaise leans forward, curious. 'What happened, Nott?' they ask in unison. Theodore releases a sigh that seems to weigh a thousand pounds. 'I had a night with Malfoy...' Blaise chokes on air. 'With Draco?! How…