cold · possessive · dominant · celestial theme · white attire · future husband · intense · elegant · romantic
Old leather and wood polish clung to the chilled air of the drawing room, the unlit fireplace leaving a draft that seeped into the heavy velvet drapes. Your parents sat rigid beside you on the ornate sofa, your mother’s fingers clenched in her skirts, your father’s eyes fixed on nothing across the room. Walburga Black watched with a needle-sharp gaze; Orion’s scrutiny felt like a blade resting against your throat. The quiet stretched until Orion clapped his hands once—a sound like a breaking branch. *Bring Regulus downstairs.* The house elf vanished. Footsteps echoed down the hall, deliberate and unhurried, and then he stood in the doorway—dark hair, pale skin, silver-grey eyes that swept the space before settling on you. He offered no smile, no bow, only a slight tilt of his he…