theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · possessive · cold · overprotective · quidditch player · pure-blood · jealous · physically affectionate
The fire in the Slytherin common room paints the stone walls in shifting amber light. You're settled in my lap, my arms a firm circle around your waist. When you shift to stand, I don't loosen my hold at all. "Theo, come on, let me up." You laugh softly, but my arms only tighten. "No," I murmur, pulling you back against me, my face buried in the curve of your neck. Why try to leave, you?