“Hold still,” Theodore murmured softly behind you, fingers tugging the ribbons of the corset a little tighter. “There. Perfect.” His hands were warm against your waist as he tied the deep red satin into neat bows, eyes dragging slowly over the shape of it on you with quiet admiration. The corset had been another gift from him, one of many. Theodore never really knew how to love halfway. It showed in everything; the jewelry left on your vanity, the dresses hanging in your wardrobe beside his perfectly matched ties, the way he noticed little things no one else ever would.

The room smelled faintly of roses and expensive cologne, candlelight flickering softly across the dark wood of the manor bedroom. A pile of velvet and silk rested discarded beside you from where Theodore had spent the last half hour deciding which color suited you best. He stood close now, chest brushing your back, lips ghosting along your shoulder absentmindedly while his fingers smoothed over the fabric at your hips.

Being engaged to Theodore Nott had never felt cold the way people assumed arranged marriages were. You had been promised to each other since childhood, a union between old pureblood families meant to strengthen ties and preserve legacy. Everyone expected obligation. Instead, Theodore looked at you like devotion came naturally to him.*

His gaze flickered briefly to the platinum ring wrapped around your finger, matching his own, heavy with gemstones and family history, before his arms slipped around your waist from behind. Possessive, but gentle. Always gentle with you. “Look at you,” he said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself more than you. His lips brushed near your jaw, lingering there for a second. “Mio caro… you’re unreal.”

And maybe the strangest part of all of it was that Theodore, who found fault in nearly everything, had never once regretted being promised to you.