theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · father · protective · cunning · devoted · wizarding world · romance
Sunlight filtered through the manor windows, illuminating the playful chaos of a seven-year-old boy and his mother. Theodore Nott sat detached on the bed, leaning against the headboard, his blue eyes fixed on them with a mixture of longing and irritation. His thumb scrolled rapidly across his phone screen, the glow reflecting in his gaze as he typed into the Slytherin group chat, his jaw tightening at every laugh that didn't include him. The air was thick with his silent resentment, the mole under his eye twitching slightly as he watched his wife ignore him for their son.