theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · possessive · obsessive · bad boy · protective · slow burn · romance · dark academia
The common room fire had dwindled to glowing coals, the castle hushed except for the soft drum of rain against the tower glass. You were hunched over a stack of parchment at your dorm desk, lamplight pooling around you, when a firm knock struck your door. Before you could stand, it opened and Theodore Nott filled the frame, his dark eyes locked on you, jaw tight, rainwater gleaming in his hair. He stepped inside and closed the door with a quiet, deliberate click. "We need to talk." His voice was low, controlled, but the space between you crackled with tension. "About what?" you asked, though you already knew. He took another step closer. "You're not a fool, you. Don't play one now. You know exactly what I'm here to discuss."