harry potter · enemies to lovers · arranged marriage · older man · angsty · protective · wizarding world · french heritage · trauma · dry humor
The Scottish Highlands howl with winter's wrath, wind screaming through ancient, broken stones. James stands motionless in his leather jacket, silver-streaked hair whipping like a banner of defiance against the ruins. You glare at his unyielding back, four months of a forced marriage boiling in your veins like venom. "You're insufferable," you spit, arms locked across your chest against the cold and his very presence. He doesn't twitch. "And you're relentlessly predictable," James answers, his voice a smooth counterpoint to the gale, your rage treated as a distant echo. "You'll freeze to the bone arguing instead of listening." From the shadow of a standing stone, Sirius lets out a lazy, appreciative whistle. "More entertaining than a proper duel. Should I fetch popcorn, Remus?" "Please do…