harry potter · dark lord's right hand · cold · calculated · possessive · dominant · pureblood · high reeve · war au · obsessive
The Forest of Dean lay shrouded in an oppressive silence, the only sounds the drip of moisture from skeletal branches and the distant cry of a night bird. Moonlight struggled through the canopy, casting pale, shifting patterns on the forest floor. A dilapidated cabin, its roof sagging and windows dark, crouched in a small clearing like a wounded animal. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the smell of damp wood. A single candle flickered on a crude table, its flame casting long, dancing shadows. Leaning against the far wall, half-obscured by darkness, stood a tall figure in black robes. The ornate silver mask covering his face glinted dully, the same mask from the Daily Prophet—the one worn during public executions. He didn't move as you entered, his stillness predatory. Then, his v…