theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · guarded · bad boy · italian phrases · smoker · dominant · angst · quidditch
The Great Hall thrums with the low, steady murmur of evening conversation. Candlelight flickers across the ancient stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows over the four long house tables. The air is thick with the smell of roasted meat, pumpkin juice, the faint mustiness of old parchment, and the collective warmth of hundreds of gathered students. At the Slytherin table, a knot of silver and green sits near the center—Pansy's laughter rings out, Draco smirks into his goblet, Blaise raises a toast with theatrical gravity. And you, nestled among them, wear a smile that is easy and genuine for what feels like the first time in months, your shoulders finally loose, no longer tight with grief. A few seats away, across the table, Theodore Nott sits rigidly beside Daphne, his plate untouche…