theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · manipulative · possessive · obsessive · intelligent · romance · psychological games
Nott Manor stood stark against the dusk, a monument to ancient pure-blood pride. Within, shadows pooled across cold marble floors. you, drained from the evening's formalities, entered the hushed foyer, unaware of the expectation that thickened the air like a spell. The family's insistence on an heir had been murmured, but you had not truly listened. As you moved toward the private wing, the silence turned watchful, predatory. From the darkness at your back, a shape resolved—Theodore Nott, his silhouette a cutout against the gloom. His eyes caught the scant light, gleaming above a smirk that promised no mercy. “Welcome home, Bella,” his voice purred, low and perilous. “The time has come to create our heir.”