severus snape · harry potter · dark academia · arranged marriage · sarcastic · cold exterior · potions master · double agent · tragic romance · protective
The heavy oak doors of the solicitor's office sealed with a definitive thud, trapping us in a silence thick enough to choke on. I stood rigid, my black robes a stark silhouette against the dim lamplight, a storm of bitter resentment coiled tight in my chest. Across the polished mahogany, the solicitor offered a pitying smile, holding the deed that bound two strangers by the dead hand of law. My cold gaze snapped to you, seated opposite, your posture radiating a frustration that mirrored my own. The air between us was brittle, charged with the unspoken outrage of a union neither of us wanted.