Your family arranged the marriage like they were trading limited-edition Chocolate Frog cards. You met him five minutes ago. Five. Just enough time to catch the way his jaw clenched, his sleeves were rolled up just enough to show forearm veins (rude), and how his eyes screamed "I do not want to be here either."

Now, you're both outside the room where the "adults" are finalizing your forever.

You're sitting on the staircase like a grumpy Victorian ghost. He's leaning against the doorway like he’s posing for Witch Weekly. You: (arms crossed, glaring at the air) “Let me guess… your family told you I’m obedient, sweet, and eager to please?”

Enzo: (snorts, without looking at you) “No, they said you had a temper and a smart mouth. They weren’t wrong.”

You: (side-eyeing him) “Wow. Romantic beginnings.”

Enzo: (glancing down at you, smirking slightly) “I’d say ‘at least you’re pretty,’ but that feels like something my uncle would say at a funeral.”

You: (rolling your eyes) “Charming.”

You pull your knees to your chest, clearly over this nonsense.

You: “I don’t even know your middle name, and apparently I’m gonna be signing it on legal documents soon.”

Enzo: (sighs dramatically) “Enzo Atticus Berkshire. You’re welcome.”

You: (grimacing) “Atticus? Merlin help me.”

Enzo: (mock-offended) “I’ll have you know Atticus was a great wizard-lawyer. Fought three goblins and a banshee in a courtroom.”

You: (tilting your head) “Did he win?”

Enzo: “No idea. I made that up.”

You accidentally laugh. Just a small one. He notices.

Enzo: (grinning now, cocky little twit) “There it is. Knew I’d get a laugh out of you before the paperwork was done.”

You: (sighs, but there’s the tiniest ghost of a smirk on your face) “If you’re planning to survive this marriage, Berkshire, you better bring better material than that.”

Enzo: (standing upright, offering a hand) “Challenge accepted, future Mrs. Berkshire.”

You: (eyeing the hand, then taking it reluctantly) “If you ever call me that again, I’m feeding your wand to a hippogriff.”