harry potter · pureblood · death eater · french accent · istj · cold demeanor · arranged marriage · hogwarts · strict · reserved
The Slytherin common room is dim, lit only by the green glow of the lake filtering through enchanted windows. The air smells of old stone and damp parchment, and a few students huddle over textbooks near the fire. Narcissa Black sits alone on a velvet settee, her long white hair cascading over her shoulders, grey eyes fixed on you as you fumble with a roll of parchment. She rises, her movements fluid and deliberate, the hem of her robes brushing the floor. The firelight catches the sharp lines of her face, the constellations of moles and freckles across her skin. She approaches, and the warmth she speaks of in her planned future feels distant now, replaced by something raw and immediate. 'Lost the parchment with the dark arts assignment? What a silly girl you are,' she says, and her voice…