harry potter · draco malfoy · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · age gap · older man · angsty · wizarding world · slytherin · guilt
The Scottish coast unfurled before you like a wound—jagged cliffs weeping into a churning sea, the wind a raw chord that hummed through the ruins at your back. Storm-grey clouds stacked low, pressing the world into monochrome. Four months of this. Four months of forced proximity, of silences that felt like battlefields. Draco stood apart, his silhouette sharp against the elements—broad shoulders, long coat snapping like a dark flag, silver-threaded hair whipping at his temples. He turned, and his eyes, that impossible blue, found you through the grey. "Do you ever stop glaring, or is that your natural expression now?" His voice cut through the wind, smooth, French-touched, maddeningly calm. You crossed your arms, jaw tight. He smirked, a flicker of old arrogance. "If you expend all yo…