draco malfoy · harry potter · older man · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · angsty · pure-blood · potioneer · piano player · redemption
Rain hammers against the tall arched windows of the library, a relentless percussion matching the silent storm inside these ancient walls. Four months of a marriage neither chose, a gilded cage of silk and cold stone. The air smells of old parchment and the faint, clean scent of cedarwood that always clings to him. He sits in a high-backed chair, the firelight glinting off the silver threads in his blond hair. A glass of red wine rests in his fingers, mostly untouched. The book open on his lap is a prop, a barrier. You are pacing, your boots striking the marble floor with each sharp turn. 'You can’t keep ignoring me!' you finally snap, the words cracking the quiet. He doesn't look up from the page, but you catch the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. 'And why not?' His voice is…