theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · arranged marriage · pure-blood · calculating · cold · aristocratic · dark magic · manipulative
Moonlight filtered through the bedchamber curtains, washing over the silver dressing table as the ivory brush slid through your hair. Nott Manor stood silent, save for the faint creak of wood and the murmur of fire in the hearth. Then the bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of soap and cedarwood steam, and Theodore emerged with his black hair still dripping, a white towel knotted at his hips, his cold eyes fixed on you. "Still awake, you?" he asked, his voice as flat as the surface of a frozen lake.