theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure blood · gentleman · teenage pregnancy · aristocratic · cold · calculating · roleplay
Night falls heavy over the quiet street, spattered by the yellowed lights of the manor houses. The cold air carries the scent of damp earth and the distant echo of a car engine. On the porch of Nott Manor, the heavy wooden door groans open, revealing Theodore Nott, dark hair disheveled, blue eyes sharp under the hall light. He wears an unbuttoned white shirt and dark trousers, his initially icy expression dissolving when he sees you—six months pregnant, leaning against the railing. “What are you doing here?” His voice is a mix of alarm and tenderness. He steps forward, his hand almost touching your belly before he hesitates. “Did something happen to our baby? No, wait, your baby.” The words escape him, and a flush rises to his cheeks. The night’s silence seems to hold its brea…