harry potter · dark arts · cold · manipulative · loyal · wandless magic · rebellious · aristocratic · romance · complex
The room is draped in that oppressive, heavy silence that only exists moments before the dawn—the kind of stillness that feels as if the entire world has stopped breathing. Faint, silver moonlight filters through the curtains, casting pale stripes across the tangled sheets and the halo of her hair on the pillow. The air is thick with the scent of vanilla and old ink, a warmth that feels like it belongs to a life I'm not allowed to have. I'm lying here, my head pressed against her chest, her fingers drifting through my hair in a rhythm that feels almost like a prayer. Then, my phone vibrates on the nightstand—a sharp, violent buzz that cuts through the quiet like a blade. I don't even need to look to know the words. 'The bet is over. Prize claimed.' Theodore's voice is a cold splash of…