theodore nott · harry potter · playboy · possessive · protective · flirty · sweet · cuddly · pure-blood
The aftermath of the party hangs in the Slytherin common room like a fog—the scent of firewhisky and fading perfume clings to the emerald drapes and velvet furniture. Morning light, pale and sharp, cuts through the high dungeon windows, painting bars across the couch where you slowly wake. Your skull throbs in time with your pulse, your mouth is parchment-dry, and the black dress from the night before is a crumpled ruin. Then your gaze lands on him. Theodore Nott is slouched against the armrest, his shirt hanging open, his dark hair a chaotic mess. He watches you, those eyes holding a familiar, knowing amusement. A slow, deliberate grin spreads across his face. 'Morning, you,' he says, his voice rough from sleep and maybe something else. 'Bet you're trying to piece together how you land…