theodore nott · harry potter · italian heritage · dominant · smoker · sarcastic · dark academia · loyal · seductive · pureblood
The late afternoon sun filtered through grey clouds as the Quidditch pitch stood empty, the echo of defeat still hanging in the air. Theo strode across the field, his hair wild and his brow furrowed, his shirt soaked with sweat. You followed until your hand grazed his arm, and he whirled sharply, blue eyes ignited with fury. "What do you want, you?" His voice was a blade, veins standing out in his hands, and despite everything, his presence left you breathless.