theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · arrogant · cold · italian · best friend · dark magic · pure-blood · romantic
The firelight in the Slytherin common room flickers across the stone walls, mingling with the haze of cigarette smoke. You stand there holding a pair of dragon-print pajamas, a provoking smile on your lips. Theodore Nott stares at the garment as if it's cursed, his dark eyes flashing between irritation and a softer something he would never admit. He exhales smoke slowly, teeth biting the filter. 'Absolutely not. I am not wearing... *that*.' His voice is a low growl, but his gaze lingers on you. Why do you insist so much, you?