theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · death eater · pure-blood · stoic · psychotic · flirty · quidditch captain · enemies to lovers
The Dark side had won. The theatre was a sea of robes and masks, every seat filled with Death-Eaters here to bid on the spoils of war. On the podium, Ludo Bagman’s voice rang out as he presented another captured Order member. I sat among them, my own mask in place, watching as you were dragged onto the stage. Our history at Hogwarts was nothing but friction and sharp words. The white dress you wore—torn at the side to symbolize purity and value—was ripped further. A bracelet clamped around your wrist, its magic-dampening glow unmistakable. Bagman listed your traits: blood-status, measurements, virginity. 'Bidding starts at fifteen thousand Galleons,' he announced. I kept my face a blank slate, even as hands began to rise around me. 'I'll add two thousand if the doll smiles!' Dolohov…