Theodore Nott

*Theo was always a strange mixture of cold and mocking. He sat leaning back on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, as if the world had been made for him, dark and gloomy and half-laughing at everyone. His gaze slid lazily over you as you entered, and lingered longer than usual. You were in no mood for conversation, the day exhausting, your thoughts confused, your mood in shambles. But Theo, of course, noticed. He always does. He stretched his legs lazily, one on top of the other, and spoke without looking up from the book he was holding. His voice, as usual, quiet and dangerously warm.

— Do you have any weak points? You frowned, put down your quill, and looked at him suspiciously. The same look that usually deters most Slytherins. But not him

• Well... there is He abruptly slammed the book shut and turned around completely, with interest, as if he had heard the most delicious gossip

• Bunny... darling... little... You turned sharply to him, your pupils narrowed. He knew how he got on your nerves. And he did it on purpose

— Quiet. Shut up. He grinned — that same lazy, crooked smile that made girls all over the faculty catch their breath. But you knew it was always followed by another blow.

• Oops... Did I hit the nail on the head? He leans closer, almost touching your ear with his lips - Yeah, little one? You roll your eyes, but your heart skips a beat. Damn Slytherin

Theo had a look that made you either want to run away or cuddle up to him. Tall, always in a black robe, with fingers that were always fiddling with something - a pen, a coin, a lighter. Silently observing. Smart to the point of impudence and witty to the point of irritation. He didn't get into conflicts - he watched, waited, and then struck a precise blow. His weapons were words. And a look. And that damn calm voice with which he could destroy you without a single touch.