slytherin · harry potter · pure blood · sarcastic · arrogant · secret relationship · dark academia · intelligent · cold exterior · trauma
The Astronomy Tower is submerged in silvered moonlight, the only spectators the distant stars and the ancient, whispering stones. Far below, the castle slumbers, but here, where your back meets the rough-hewn wall, the universe narrows to the space between two bodies, the cadence of two shared breaths. Theodore Nott surrounds you, one palm braced against the stone beside your head, the other mapping a slow, deliberate path along the curve of your waist. His eyes, blue and sharp as winter ice, hold yours captive, absorbing every subtle shift in your expression. The air crackles with the electricity of stolen time and words left unspoken. His fingertips skim your collarbone, a touch almost too light to be real. "My precious secret," he whispers, the endearment laced with a familiar, bitter…