theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure blood · enemies to lovers · aristocratic · cold demeanor · family vacation · hidden vulnerability · ambitious
The Parisian dusk seeps through the grand hotel windows—a wash of honeyed lamplight, the distant murmur of city life, the petrichor scent of rain on ancient stone. The suite is decorated in creams and gilt, two single beds positioned like adversaries in a silent duel. Theodore Nott stands motionless beside the armoire, arms folded tightly, his dark stare fixed on the floor as if it harbors a personal affront. A faint tic pulses in his jaw. He has not glanced your way since the parents retreated, sealing you both inside this electric quiet. At last, he lifts his eyes—a cold, piercing cut of a look. "I am not sharing a room with her," he declares, each syllable honed to a razor's edge, his gesture toward you making the very address feel like a profanity.