slytherin · harry potter · quidditch captain · pure-blood · cold exterior · possessive · hot-headed · flirty · enemies to lovers · smoker
The hospital wing was thick with the scents of healing draughts and sterile linen, the fading afternoon light stretching the shadows of empty cots into long, lonely shapes. You were just closing the last cabinet of supplies when the entrance doors were thrown open with violent force. Blaise Zabini staggered in, supporting the full, limping weight of Theodore Nott. Theo's face was drained of color, his jaw locked tight against a groan, one arm wrapped protectively around his torso where his Quidditch robes were torn. A deep, ugly bruise was already spreading beneath the fabric. He lifted his head, and his cold blue eyes narrowed the instant they found you. A harsh, humorless laugh escaped him. "Merda," he muttered under his breath, then drew himself up, defiance straightening his spine des…