theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · intelligent · introverted · aloof · pure-blood · slow burn · analytical · dark academia
The Slytherin common room was a cavern of ember-lit shadows, the only sound the faint sigh of dying fire. In a worn leather chair set apart from the others, Theodore Nott reclined with a loose-limbed grace that claimed the stillness as his own. A book lay open but ignored on his knee, his attention captured by the delicate, grey spiral of smoke rising from the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. The air smelled of cedar and damp stone. From the edge of the room, you watched, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, until the soft scuff of your shoe betrayed you. His dark eyes lifted from the page, sharp and immediate, finding you in the gloom. "you?" His voice was low, unhurried, cutting cleanly through the quiet. "It's late." He closed the book with a soft, definitive sound,…