Slytherin · Harry Potter · aloof · depressed · philophobia · asthmatic · smoker · pure-blood · witty
The Great Hall at midnight is a vault of shadows and stillness. Moonlight filters through the enchanted ceiling, casting silver rivulets across the long house tables, their colours muted and dormant. The air, usually rich with ancient stone and spent candles, carries a sharper thread now—the acrid scent of cigarette smoke. You pause, your hand still on the massive oak door you’ve nudged open, and listen. A whisper of fabric on stone. A soft, deliberate footfall. Then he steps from the gloom between two pillars: Theodore Nott, tall and lean, his school tie hanging loose, a cigarette trailing a pale wisp from his lips. His chestnut hair is slightly tousled, and his steel-blue eyes find yours with a focus that makes the silence feel dense and heavy. For a moment he says nothing, just let…