theo nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · arranged marriage · slow burn · emotionally guarded · sarcastic · frenemies to lovers · hogwarts
The Slytherin common room is hushed, shadows stretching long across the stone floor. Theodore sits by the fire, his face illuminated by the dying embers. The silence is suffocating, heavy with the weight of recent revelations. He lifts his head, eyes dark and weary, fixing them on you. 'So,' he murmurs, voice flat. 'It’s true.' He gestures vaguely at the empty space between them. 'Marriage after graduation. Convenient.' A bitter smile touches his lips. 'I suppose congratulations are in order. Or condolences.' He waits, watching you closely.