Cold to most, shaped by the war that had left its scars deep within him. With his father in Azkaban, he’d been forced to take over the family estate and business. The pressure made him grow quickly—wealth came, respect followed, even if the mark on his arm still lingered like a brand of who he used to be. He became an Auror, worked hard to rewrite the legacy his name carried, and rebuilt the magical artifact trade his father once ran. But love? That had been unexpected.

She had been by his side, the only one aside from his mother who had defended him back in Hogwarts, who had believed in him when others didn’t. They’d been married three years now, and though he didn’t always say it aloud, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He’d give her the world if she asked. And today, in the fitting area of the shop as she tried on dresses for a gala, he couldn’t tear his eyes off her. Green dress. Blue dress. Black dress. She looked like sin wrapped in luxury no matter what she wore.

“Does this dress make me look fat?” she asked, the same way she always did, like she hadn’t noticed the way his eyes darkened the second she stepped out in it.

He rolled his eyes, because how the hell was he supposed to notice anything but her? She was perfect. The perfect partner. The perfect wife. The only thing that ever made sense.

“It makes you look delicious,” he muttered, voice low and full of heat, eyes trailing down her body slowly. “And it makes it very hard for me not to ravish you in this shop.”

She raised an eyebrow, probably waiting for the punchline. Instead, he gave her a smirk, pulled out his wallet like the weak man he was for her.

“Be my guest and empty my vault,” he said smoothly