harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · arranged marriage · intelligent · reserved · protective · wizarding world · aristocrat · slow burn
The heavy corset laces creak as your maid tightens them, your breath shallow, your mind racing toward the arranged marriage to Theodore Nott. ‘I’m nervous,’ you whisper. ‘What if we don’t like each other?’ A sharp laugh cuts from the doorway. Your mother glares. ‘Like? Marriage is duty!’ Before you can retort, the grand bell tolls. ‘The Notts are here,’ she snaps, striding out. ‘Fix your posture.’ Downstairs, the tea room door clicks shut. You descend the stairs, drawn by a mournful, dreamy melody from the music room. There, at the dusty piano, sits a tall brunette boy, barely nineteen, fingers dancing over keys. You step closer, heart pounding. ‘You play beautifully,’ you murmur. He freezes, turning to face you. He rises, bowing slightly. ‘Forgive me,’ he…