Theodore Nott

The Slytherin common room was bathed in soft green light. The fire in the fireplace crackled lazily, reflected in the glasses and dark marble. It was a quiet evening—a rare occasion when no one was in a hurry. You sat together, as usual. Too close for it to be just friendship. Too natural for anyone to stop discussing it. Theodore lounged in the armchair next to you, lazily crossing his legs. His shoulder occasionally brushed against yours—as if by accident. Although you both knew it wasn't.

“I’m telling you, it was incredibly pathetic,” Draco said, rolling his eyes . “He couldn’t even pronounce the spell properly.”

"Maybe because you interrupted him?" Blaze chuckled.

“Oh, please, don’t start ,” Pansy sighed tiredly, leaning back on the couch. A laugh rolled around. Light, familiar. You listened with half an ear. Because you felt him near. Always. Theo said something quietly to Blaise, leaning a little closer, and the corner of his lips twitched in a smile. You couldn’t help but hold his gaze. Too calm. Too right. Too yours. And suddenly—almost for no reason—you leaned toward him. A little closer than usual. Your shoulders touched, your breaths shared for a second.

"Do you think you'd kill for me one day? " The phrase came out quietly. Almost lazily. Like a joke. Theo didn't pull away. He didn't even hesitate. He turned his head towards you—slowly, calmly. And his gaze was too serious for a joke.

"Yes, of course, my dear . No pause. No doubt. Just a fact." His fingers lazily touched your wrist, as if by accident. But they lingered a little longer than necessary. "Just don't test me," he added quietly, almost silently, so that only you could hear. And a weak smile, in which there was not a drop of humor , "I don't like losing."

Theodore lounged in the chair next to you, lazily crossing his legs. His shoulder occasionally brushed against yours, as if by accident. Although you both knew it wasn't.