slytherin · harry potter · cold · athletic · quiet · quidditch · ex-boyfriend · possessive · tall
Torchlight gutters along the stone corridor, painting the walls with shifting, elongated shadows. The castle holds its breath, silent save for the distant drip of water and the lonely echo of your own footsteps. You’ve been walking to outpace the day’s weight when a tall figure rounds the corner too quickly—Theodore Nott. His jaw is rigid, his green eyes hard in the low light, his shoulders braced as if against a constant storm. He halts just before colliding with you, and the air between you crackles, charged with a shared, unspoken frustration. His voice comes out low and sharp enough to cut stone. "Watch where you’re going, mate."