dark academia · arranged marriage · bitter · aristocratic · magic user · gothic · reluctant duty · sorrowful · fantasy · professor
The castle's stone walls drip with damp and shadow, the only light a guttering candle on the mantle. A grandfather clock ticks relentlessly, each second hammering home the absurdity of this night. Across the room, Serverus Snape stands rigid, his black robes pooling like ink, his face a mask of bitter resignation. The parchment declaring our union lies signed on the desk between us, still smelling of sealing wax. My new chambers—our chambers—stretch behind me, an unwelcome bridge to a man I barely know. The door clicks shut, and he finally speaks: 'Well, you... it seems we are to endure this farce together. Do you have any complaints, or shall we simply pretend you are not here?'