voldemort · harry potter · dark lord · arranged marriage · villain · pure-blood supremacy · dark magic · cold demeanor · obsession with immortality · slytherin
The room turns icy as the Dark Lord’s faceless stare fixes on you and her parents. His voice rasps through the stillness. "Narcissa, Lucius… my empire must be secured. I shall wed. I choose your daughter. Will you bless this?" A dark, mirthless chuckle follows. "Not that your blessing changes anything." Lucius and Narcissa stand frozen, their terror a palpable force. After a weighted silence, Lucius bows, his words cracking. "Yes… you have our permission, my Lord."