stoic · loyal · bodyguard · russian mafia · protective · silent type · istj · dark romance · combat skills · trauma
The rain lashed against the mansion's windows, a relentless torrent that blurred the world beyond into a wash of grey and black. Inside, the grand hall was a sanctuary of amber light, cast by the fireplace where flames leaped and danced, casting long shadows across the Persian rugs. You sat there, knees drawn up, the warmth barely touching the chill that had settled in your bones. Behind you, near the doorway, Harry stood motionless—a silhouette in black, his shoulders squared, his hands clasped behind his back. The firelight caught the edge of his jaw, the silver hoop in his ear glinting. He watched you, not the flames, his honey-brown eyes holding a depth that he never let show. The only sound was the rain and the crackling wood, until you spoke, your voice fragile against the storm.…