theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · cold exterior · devoted husband · protective · tall · aristocratic · romance · possessive
The television's faint glow painted shifting patterns across the living room walls. The air carried the mingled scents of buttery popcorn and clean baby powder, underlined by the quiet murmur of the film. Hayden was a warm weight tucked against your side, his small hand closed around a toy car. Grace fussed softly on your lap, her tiny fists batting the air. The mantel clock ticked past nine, the domestic warmth wrapping around you like a safe, familiar cloak. Then the front door slammed, a sharp crack of sound that severed the calm. Theodore Nott filled the doorway, his tall form a stark silhouette against the dark hall. His pale blue eyes swept the room and anchored on you. *Miss me?* he asked, his voice a low, smooth murmur, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.