❝ 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧... ❞
theodore nott x fem oc
*very slow burn*
this book is written for, and dedicated to all swifties out there.
rated mature for explicit violence, graphic de...
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HE KNEW HE WAS SCREWED the moment he apparated home from Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
Being seventeen had its perks. For one thing, he didn't have to travel by broom, portkey or floo. He simply had to close his eyes and practically teleport to wherever he wanted.
It also helped that he was now allowed to use magic after school.
He armed himself, drawing his wand as he approached closer to the Mansion, seeing as he had landed in the middle of the grounds. It looked different. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something strange, something eerily different about this place, his childhood home.
He longed to burn it to the ground, to omit it from existence.
With each step he drew closer to the house, he couldn't shake off the accumulating mass of impending doom that loomed over his head like a giant storm cloud.
The second he turned the doorknob, and let himself in, he instantly felt it.
He was here. His presence was everywhere. It hung over the house like a stench, like an unshakeable odor.
And despite the fact that he was seventeen, and had all the freedom in the world, he still felt more like a prisoner than ever.
Being seventeen had no effect when your father happened to be Tiberius Nott.
He didn't know when his father had returned, but Lord Nott had finally come back to take his place as the man of the house, after being absent from Theo's life for the past year.
The Mansion stood tall and proud, a witness to the atrocities that had once gone on within its walls.
A witness to the truth about his mother's untimely death.
It looked the same as ever, only more run down, self degenerating with the help of the wilderness around. The ivy had overgrown more than ever, climbing up the heavy, stone walls, threatening to cover up the whole mansion in green as time passed.
A shiver traveled down his spine as he let himself in, the door opening for him the moment his hands touched the doorknob, evidence of possessing Nott blood. A shaky exhale left his lips after he shut the door behind him, summoning his house elf to take his trunk to his room.
His father was already occupying that horrifying armchair in the center of the drawing room, opposite the fireplace, and Theo could make out the back of his head peeking up from the back of the armchair.
His father sensed his presence the moment Theo walked in, and he was ten years old all over again, his heart thumping in his chest as he braced himself for the cutthroat rules, the biting words and the stinging pain of the whip.
