theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · aloof · intellectual · dry wit · aristocratic · dark academia
The fading amber light of dusk seeped through the gap in your curtains, painting your room in a wash of gold. The only sound was the private world thrumming through your headphones—until your door burst open with a sharp crack against the wall. Theodore Nott filled the threshold, tall and severe, his expression as cold as his lineage. "Take those headphones off. Now," he commanded, his voice slicing through the quiet like a blade. You didn't flinch, just let your eyes roll with practiced disdain. "You're not my father," you stated flatly. "You don't get to order me around." His gaze hardened, the silence stretching taut between you. What will he do next, you?