theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · italian speaker · protective · trust issues · quidditch player · summer break · possessive
The Great Hall hummed with murmured conversations and the clink of cutlery, enchanted ceiling light pooling over clusters of students. Theodore Nott was laughing, head tilted back, a cigarette-tinged grin spreading as Mattheo jostled him over some joke. Then the doors swung open. A figure stepped into the light, and something shifted—the way the glow caught their silhouette made his laughter catch in his throat. He set his fork down slowly, eyes narrowing as recognition dawned. It couldn't be. He leaned toward Draco, his voice a low, disbelieving murmur. "Draco… tell me that's not you." His gaze remained locked on you as you laughed with friends, a slow, intrigued smile pulling at his lips. What in Merlin's name had happened over the summer?