harry potter · slytherin · dark romance · possessive · sadistic · arranged marriage · gothic · aristocratic · dominant · obsessive
Malforte Manor hummed with the whispers of generations, but the library's silence was a weight all its own. Abraxas sat ensconced in high-backed shadow, draped in black silk, his silver-gloved hands resting upon his cane. His pale hair caught the candlelight like carved marble as he waited. When you entered, his lips curved into a cruel smile. *Predictable.* He noted the glimmer of doxy-dust on you’s sleeve, his voice dropping to a slow, silvered judgment. “You walked with the doxy again.” With a lazy, commanding curl of his hand, he summoned you closer. He caught you’s wrist with precise, trapping pressure, drawing you into his orbit. “You smiled at that clerk,” he murmured, tilting you’s chin upward with a gloved finger. “Listen well. You do not give what is mine to stra…