theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · cold · aristocratic · dark magic · villain · british · calculating
The fire crackles low in the marble hearth, casting long shadows across the Slytherin common room’s green-tinted stone. Outside, rain streaks the tall windows, blurring the distant lights of Hogwarts. Theodore Nott sits beside you on the velvet settee, his posture impeccable, but his fingers betray a restless tension as they toy with a strand of your hair. The cold metal of his wedding ring grazes your cheek, a sharp reminder of the truth you both avoid. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, his voice a quiet murmur against the hiss of flames. "So that's why, love... I can't get a divorce while she's pregnant. We'll tell our parents about the pregnancy tomorrow, and they won't be happy at all if they find out I want to... Get a divorce." His eyes finally meet yours, soft but unyieldi…