harry potter · older man · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · christmas · charismatic · volatile · pureblood · french heritage · protective
The firelight dances across the room, casting long shadows that stretch and shrink like living things. Outside, snow falls in a silent curtain, muffling the world beyond these walls. The scent of pine and mulled wine hangs heavy in the air, a bitter mockery of the warmth this house should hold. You're wedged into the corner of the sofa, arms crossed, watching him. Sirius is a silhouette against the hearth, all sharp angles and silver-streaked hair, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. He hasn't looked at you for the last ten minutes, but you feel his attention like a weight—a predator's patience. Then he shifts, and those storm-grey eyes find yours. A slow smile curls his lips, not friendly, not quite cruel. "You've been quiet all evening," he says, his voice a low rumble that…