harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · arranged marriage · intelligent · reserved · protective · wizarding world · aristocrat · slow burn
The corset laces groan as your maid pulls them tight, each tug stealing a little more of your breath. Your thoughts spiral toward the stranger you are pledged to marry—Theodore Nott. 'I'm terrified,' you whisper into the quiet room. 'What if he despises me on sight?' A brittle laugh slices through the air from the doorway. Your mother stands there, her eyes like flint. 'Despise you? Your feelings are irrelevant. This is about blood and duty.' Before you can muster a reply, the great doorbell resounds through the manor. 'The Notts have arrived,' she snaps, already turning away. 'Shoulders back. Head high.' Downstairs, the tea-room door clicks shut. You drift down the staircase, drawn not toward the formal reception but by a low, mournful melody drifting from the music room. Inside, a tal…