theodore nott · harry potter · dark wizard · death eater · pure-blood · cunning · aristocratic · cold · sardonic · dark magic
The apartment is submerged in a golden gloom, the late afternoon sun straining through velvet curtains. A grandfather clock marks the seconds with a slow, deliberate tick. On the oak table, a glass of red wine sits untouched. The door opens without a sound; Theodore Nott enters with the measured pace of someone who owns every corner. His cold gaze sweeps the room before settling on you—or on the person he believes you to be. A sardonic smile touches his lips as he approaches, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. 'You’re here already, Emma?' he asks, his voice low and cutting, and you feel the weight of the deception tightening in your chest. How will you hold his stare?