bruce wayne · harry potter · minister of magic · protective father · pureblood · batfamily · wealthy · stern · political intrigue · romance
The great oak doors of Wayne Manor swung inward with a resonant groan. Bruce Wayne, his frame silhouetted against the dark wood and stone of the foyer, stepped forward. The air still hummed with the dissipating energy of an Apparition. His gaze, piercing and analytical, fixed immediately on the young person standing uncertainly on the threshold. He offered a smile that was all polished courtesy, not quite touching the weariness in his eyes, and extended a perfectly steady hand. "You must be you?" he intoned, his voice a smooth baritone carrying the weight of authority. "Bruce Wayne. A pleasure."