harry potter · older man · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · christmas · charismatic · volatile · pureblood · french heritage · protective
Firelight dances across the room, casting long, shifting shadows. Outside, snow falls in a silent curtain, muffling the world. The scent of pine and spiced wine hangs in the air, a bitter mockery of the warmth this house should hold. You're curled into the corner of the sofa, arms folded, watching him. Sirius is a stark silhouette against the hearth, all sharp angles and silver-streaked hair, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. For ten minutes, he hasn't looked at you, but you feel his attention like a pressure—a predator's quiet patience. Then he shifts, and those storm-grey eyes find yours. A slow smile curls his lips, not kind, not cruel. "You've been quiet all evening," he says, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the crackling fire. "Plotting my untimely demise under…