Nothing As It Seems

Chapter 1: A Pompous Man's Act

Hey everyone,

It has been a long time since i've contributed to wattpad. Too long in my opinion. I have been writing this story constantly, various drafts, snippets, chapters, different views, different characters, different plot lines etc. After persuasion, a friend of mine, coincidentally the very same whom i am dedicating this chapter to--told me that i should hold onto this one and really try to commit. I'm glad you told me to, the story came out great!

Comment, vote, fan!

You know what to do ;)

--TheDarkLady

Chapter 1: A Pompous Man's Act

Theodore Nott sat calmly behind his desk, oblivious to all around him.

He sat slightly hunched over documents, chin resting on folded hands, elbows on the sleek mahogany.

As he serenely peered down, an authoritative knock came from his door.

“Yes?” He inquired his voice characteristically low and quiet, his eyes not leaving his newly acquired documents.

Silver caught the edge of his eye, Theodore sighed, “Drake I was beginning to think you were hitting on those nymphs instead of questioning them and—”

Theodore inhaled deeply, but didn’t say anything.

The man walked into the room, stunning features were alit by the meager light let out by drawn curtains.

An upward tilt of his chin, harsh metallic grey eyes, which often glint accompanied with a sardonic twist of his words. Sharp and aristocratic cheekbones, strong masculine jaw line and an admirable nose. The only thing soft about him, or seemingly delicate about him, were his lips. The plush petals that seemed so wrong, yet so right on him.

A smirk tugged at those infamous lips, metal eyes gleamed whether in malice or amusement was a mystery, “Monroe wants to see us. I’d gather its quite important.” His voice, rather like his friend Theo, was quiet and low and silvery. It carried well through the room. Its tenor was hypnotic.

“Hmm.” Theodore said, making a sort of non-committal sound. Though, with his deep voice, its sounded more like a rumble stirring from the depths of his wide chest.

 “Sure, take your time.” Draco said, but only Theodore could hear the warning in his generous words.

With a plaintive look of longing towards his newly acquired documents, he reluctantly got up, straightened out his crisp grey suit that did wonders for his dark brown eyes. Reached for the robes he’d earlier set carefully onto his chair, and they were off.

Theodore squinted at his watch and with a sigh of annoyance, his hand skimmed his hair that was now in his eyes.

‘Need a haircut mate.” Draco told him, his eyes smirking with fanciful amusement. And Theodore gave him a look. “I know, I haven’t got any time to cut my bloody hair.” While he was attempting to get his hair off his face, witches nearby were looking up dreamily at him and the less obvious were sneaking looks at him as they hurried past while grooming themselves.

Draco found this statement quite shocking, “You’re a WIZARD.”

All Theodore’s energy was now on fixing his damn hair while they swept through the halls to meet their superior, so he just glared at his companion.

Draco’s smirk was now a full blown smug grin. He opened his mouth to say something, no doubt a joke at someone’s expense but bright orange against the neutral surroundings suggested unwanted company.