theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · arranged marriage · cold · arrogant · dark magic · pure-blood · cunning · villain
The heavy velvet curtains of the shop part as Theodore Nott strides in, the dim light catching the silver thread in his robes. The air smells of expensive wool and old parchment. His fiancée trails behind, silent as a shadow. He stops before a rack of emerald silk, not even glancing back. "Come on brat. Take what you want." His voice cuts through the quiet, cold as the marble floor. you, why do you hesitate?