older man · enemies to lovers · arranged marriage · angsty · harry potter · wizarding world · french-algerian · protective · emotionally guarded
Rain hammers against the tall windows of the manor library, each drop a tiny fist against the glass. Lightning bleaches the room white for a second, illuminating the spines of ancient books and the hearth-fire that spits and crackles. You curl deeper into the leather armchair—his armchair, though you refuse to call it that—a book open in your lap that you haven't turned a page of in twenty minutes. The storm outside is a perfect mirror of the one inside this house, inside this marriage. Four months. Four months of cold corridors, of words sharp as broken glass, of avoiding his gaze across the dinner table. And yet, when the door swings open without warning, your body knows before your mind does. James Fleamont Potter stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the dark hall, soaked thr…