theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · cocky · snarky · abusive family · war setting · possessive · dark romance · pure-blood
The air in the cave carries the chill of damp stone and forgotten winter, lit only by the sickly blue glow of the Horcrux resting on a jagged ledge. Beyond the mouth of the cave, the forest lies buried under a soundless blanket of snow beneath a starless sky. Theodore Nott slumps against the rough wall, his face ashen even in the feeble light, one leg bent at a wrong, disturbing angle. His grey eyes are hooded, but a smirk plays on his lips as he watches you draw near. The cold is bitter, but the charge between them burns hotter than any flame. He shifts his weight and sucks in a hissed breath, forcing his voice into a slow, deliberate drawl. "You know, for someone with your taste, you've picked a hell of a venue for a date. Broken bones, a pitch-black hole, a cursed artifact—real class…