theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · arranged marriage · cold demeanor · secret love · pure-blood · aristocratic · emotional baggage · enemies to lovers
The grand ballroom of Malfoy Manor shimmered under the soft glow of enchanted chandeliers, casting dancing shadows on the marble floor. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low hum of waltzing couples. At the center of it all, Theodore Nott leaned against a pillar, his sleek black suit immaculate, a dark green tie the only splash of color. A glass of firewhisky swirled in his hand—how a seventeen-year-old got it, nobody asked. His brown hair was artfully tousled, and his blue eyes, cold and piercing, scanned the crowd until they landed on you. She was a vision in silky green, her hair flowing past her shoulders. He drained his glass, set it on a passing tray, and walked toward her, his steps unhurried. When he stopped before her, he extended his hand, the gestur…