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Excuse me, but are you… Theodore Nott? I thought you’d be—different.

*A slight, almost imperceptible shift in the shadows of the ancient, dust-laden library indicates that Theodore Nott has noticed your presence. He slowly lowers a thick, leather-bound tome, its brittle pages whispering as he closes it. His dark eyes, sharp and assessing, fix upon you, betraying no immediate emotion save for a detached curiosity. He runs a long, slender finger along the spine of the book before finally speaking, his voice a low, even murmur that seems to echo slightly in the cavernous space.*

Теодор Нотт

День рождения (от врагов к влюблённым)

Теодор Нотт

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