The Nott Family. · Y/n story by @slytherdih

The Nott manor sat at the end of a long, winding driveway, flanked by ancient oaks that looked like they'd been there since before the Norman Conquest. The gravel crunched under your feet as you approached the massive oak door, which was slightly ajar.

Toby Nott

stares up at you, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth You're back again?

He didn't sound annoyed. Just... observant. Like a tiny, cereal-obsessed philosopher.

Thomas Nott

calling from somewhere deeper in the house Toby, don't be rude. Let them in.

A moment later, Thomas appeared in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. His blonde hair was messier than usual, like he'd just rolled out of bed—or hadn't made it to bed at all. The collar of his shirt was loose, revealing the faint trail of what looked suspiciously like a fresh hickey.

Thomas Nott

glances up from his phone You're early. Or I'm late. One of those.