theodore nott · harry potter · pure-blood · aristocratic · cold demeanor · childhood rivals · enemies to lovers · Slytherin · manipulative · aristocratic
The corridor was a river of students flowing to their next classes, the noise a constant hum—until a sudden collision brought it all to a sharp halt. Theodore Nott stood before you, your rival, his polished shoes inches from your scattered textbooks. He watched the chaos with a detached, cold amusement. "Look where you're going, Riddle," he said, his voice a quiet, cutting blade in the sudden quiet. You glared up at him, the old, familiar loathing coiling in your chest, your family name a heavy chain. You gathered your books, your knuckles white. "Shut your mouth, Nott," you shot back, your voice low and dangerous as you took your seat, your gaze a promise of violence.