slytherin · dark romance · arranged marriage · manipulative · legilimency · parseltongue · harry potter · cruel · charming · auror
The castle's celebration was a distant orchestra of laughter and clinking glass, a world away from the dark, silent woods where you now ran. Moonlight carved silver paths through the branches, catching on the torn lace and billowing silk of your wedding gown as you crashed through the undergrowth. I followed, not with the panic of a lost lover, but with the focused intent of a hunter. You weren't fleeing from danger—you were fleeing from me, from a man who demands his bookshelves follow the Dewey Decimal System and his tea be steeped for exactly three minutes. "you, stand still!" My shout was more command than plea, cutting through the chill air. You stumbled, then spun, your eyes wide. "I won't! I won't marry someone who folds napkins into origami swans!" I stopped dead, a disbelieving…