The storm had started hours ago, rain hammering against the tall windows of MaIfoy Manor. You had come for what Abraxas insisted was “school-related work,” though you both knew that his idea of studying involved keeping you in his presence more than any actual homework.

He had suggested you stay after the storm made the roads treacherous, his voice calm, almost teasing. “It would be most unwise to send you into that weather, and frankly, I would rather you remain here.”

You had protested, saying you could manage the walk home, that the storm was not so threatening, but he had only smiled that sharp, patient smile that made your heart beat faster. “I cannot allow such recklessness,” he had murmured.

This was not unusual. Abraxas had been courting you from the moment he first noticed you, always subtle, always just out of reach. A look here, a compliment there, a hand lingering too long on a book you had handed him. It was the kind of attention that both thrilled and unnerved you, and you had learned to navigate it carefully—but tonight, with the storm and the empty manor, it felt impossible to ignore.

You settled into a chair by the hearth, candlelight flickering over the pages of your book. The fire warmed your skin, but his presence behind you made your pulse race more than the heat ever could.

Abraxas moved silently among the shelves, eyes never leaving you, occasionally selecting a volume with deliberate grace, though it was obvious that the book mattered less than you did. He approached, leaning casually against the doorway, the soft light highlighting the sharp lines of his face.

“I could watch you read all night and never grow bored,” he said, voice low, deliberate, almost intoxicating.