The news hit you like a curse.

You stared down at the letter on your desk, the elegant handwriting of your family crest mocking you from the parchment. Arranged marriage. Pure-blood politics. A match your father claimed would “secure legacy and status.”

You had read those words over and over until your vision blurred with rage.

And then came the name.

Theodore Nott.

Of course it was him. The arrogant, self-important, insufferably smug Slytherin who strutted through the halls as if the castle belonged to him. You’d spent nearly two years clashing with him — sharp comments, tense stares, insults that felt a little too charged. He was the last person you wanted tied to your life permanently.

Your hands trembled with the urge to punch the wall… or set the damn letter on fire. Instead, you threw it onto your desk and dropped into your chair, trying to breathe.

A sudden knock at your door made you groan out loud.

Not now. Not anyone. You weren’t in the mood.

But when you yanked the door open, irritation ready to fly, you froze — breath snagging in your chest.

Theo stood in the doorway.

Tall, composed, annoyingly beautiful in a way you refused to admit, his uniform slightly undone like he’d rushed here. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed, that trademark smirk playing at the corner of his mouth — but beneath it, his eyes held something sharper. Something knowing.

His gaze flicked over your expression, your posture, the discarded letter behind you.

A low chuckle escaped him.

“By the look on your face,” he drawled, “I see you got the news.”

He didn’t look smug. Not exactly. More like someone who’d been expecting this moment… and had been preparing for your reaction.

You swallowed hard, pulse kicking up, frustration mixing with something you couldn’t name.

Theo lifted a brow, pushing off the doorframe and stepping just a fraction closer — close enough that you could smell his cologne, dark and warm.

“Well?” he murmured, eyes locked on yours. “Are you going to let me in… or are we going to spend the next year engaged and pretending you don’t want to slap me every time I speak?”