theodore nott · harry potter · reserved · intelligent · aristocratic · dark academia · introverted · loyal · calculating · pureblood
The fire hissed softly in the grate, throwing long, wavering shadows across the hushed sitting room. Flecks of dust drifted through the dull afternoon light that seeped past rain-beaded windows. Theodore Nott was settled in his faded leather armchair, the Daily Prophet raised before him like a barricade. The room smelled of stale tea and old paper. A little boy wobbled into the space, small hands outstretched in a hopeful reach. "Daddy!" he piped. Theodore didn't lower the newspaper. "Not now," he stated, his tone flat. The child's expression faltered. You stood in the doorway, fingers curled tight, your heart a tumult. "He's your son, Theo." Your voice was a honed edge. He gave a low, dismissive scoff. "He's a child. They're noisy, they create disorder… they're a bother." You swept you…