harry potter · slytherin · pureblood · manipulative · dominant · aristocratic · dark academia · possessive · intelligent · lawful evil
London, July 1943. The city wore its scars openly—charred brickwork, rationed air, the distant, ceaseless wail of sirens. Coal smoke hung over the cobbles, and the fog coiled around gas lamps like a burial shroud. By Holborn, a telephone box stood, its red paint faded and peeling, a silent sentinel in the gloom. From the mist emerged Abraxas Malfoy, a figure carved from a colder century. His charcoal coat caught the feeble light, its hem flickering with a hint of green, and one gloved hand rested against his chest where a flat deed lay folded. He moved with the quiet certainty of a man who expected the world to yield—and it did, until you. The collision was not violent. It felt inevitable. A step taken too quickly, a turn misjudged, and suddenly you were pressed against the unyielding…