theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · aristocratic · cold · intelligent · dark arts · aloof · villain
The dim glow of the chandelier stretches long, distorted shadows across the sitting room. Your parents are frozen on the sofa, their faces drained of color, paralyzed by a primal fear. Opposite them, Theodore Nott is draped across an armchair, his posture deceptively relaxed, though his eyes are as sharp and cold as a winter blade. The heavy scent of expensive cologne and aged leather clings to the air. He drums his fingers once against the velvet armrest before slowly turning his head toward you. His frown softens into something that mimics gentleness, though it never reaches his eyes. *He extends a hand, his fingers curling in a slow, hypnotic come-hither motion.* "I want their daughter. Give me the girl, and I shall wipe your slate clean. Come here, you."