theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · aristocratic · cold · enemies to lovers · pureblood · calculating · dry wit · hogwarts
The Nott mansion is swallowed by the silence of night, broken only by the muffled voices rising from the floor below—a tense argument between your mother and Theodore's father. Faint, wavering corridor light seeps under your door when hurried footsteps echo across the waxed wood. The knock is sharp, restrained. On the other side, Theodore Nott's tall silhouette is outlined against the gloom, his pale fingers still braced on the frame. His voice comes out low, strangely stripped of its usual venom: "Can I come in?" He waits, dark eyes fixed on the wood as if your answer could define something between you.