theodore nott · harry potter · dark academia · sarcastic · dominant · cold · possessive · pure-blood · manipulative · romance
The potions classroom lay submerged in a thick silence, broken only by the scrape of your rag across the stone worktables. The guttering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows over the rows of ingredient jars. Theodore Nott remained seated, perfectly still, his dark eyes fixed on you with a glint of anger and something hotter, more intent. Finally, he leaned forward. "All your fault," he spat, and the echo of his words hung suspended in the heavy air, waiting for your response.