~A careless word may kindle strife.
A cruel word may wreck a life.
A timely word may level stress.
But a loving word may heal and bless.~
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He was a clumsy man, Harfang was, but refreshingly charming, and in such an honest and simple way that people drew naturally towards him – even the pretentious Callidora Black. The daunting Callidora Black. She was a beautiful thing, with her dark curls and hooded eyes, and that curvaceous body that drove men of all sorts wild from desire. However the woman's personality was another story. She was bitter, to say the least. Bitter and outright disdainful. About as cruel as her father - it was often whispered amongst social gatherers - and everyone sympathized with the poor Crouch man engaged to her. They were a sour faced couple. And they would have made quite the humorous pair had they not been so utterly terrifying.
But it was said Harfang must have came along and drugged the woman with a love potion for sake of the sudden turn of events.
The thought of Callidora loving anything but her own reflection was so utterly atrocious most assumed the cancelled engagement to Caspar Crouch, and the fresh wedding invitations, to be a hoax.
But the invitations were indeed real, as was the affection that drew both Callidora Black and Harfang Longbottom together in the most uncertainly pure of ways.
Callidora lay blissful in her husband's arms, strong and warm, lean and protective. She closed her eyes and murmured almost to herself. "I think… I now understand why Cedrella risked her status for that blood traitor Weasley..."
"Do you?" Harfang whispered. He ran his fingers through her tangled locks and she shivered deliciously.
Callidora sighed and nodded confidently into his chest. "If it were for this thing called 'love', I'm most certain I would do anything. And Cedrella and I are more the same then naught."
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