“Chill, I’m easy” · Y/n story by @midxaridagoat

The Slytherin common room hummed with low firelight and the occasional crackle of embers. Green-tinged lamps cast long shadows across worn leather sofas, where a cluster of sixth-years hunched over a Transfiguration essay. On the far side of the room, tucked into an armchair that had seen better decades, a phone screen glowed obtrusively.

Theodore Nott

Baby.

Theo 🖤

baby

Across the room, Theodore sat sprawled on the opposite sofa, chin propped in his palm, staring at you with the kind of theatrical devastation usually reserved for Shakespearean tragedies. His knee bounced. His wand was abandoned beside him on the cushions. He looked, frankly, insufferable.

Theo 🖤

you haven’t moved in 8 minutes

Pansy, lounging beside you, glanced at your screen and snorted.

Pansy Parkinson

He’s sending you a whole novel in there, isn’t he.

Mattheo Riddle, from across the room

Notte, if you text her one more time I’m taking your phone.

Theodore Nott, not looking away from you

Touch it and lose a hand, Riddle.

Theo 🖤

pansy is giving me a look