The Halls of Harrow: AKA Of Course I'm Fucking Jealous

Welcome to The Halls of Harrow, an academy for the mystical and magically inclined. A place where the burning glow of autumn entices sprites to sing from lakeshores, where cats converse and teacups whisper in your ear. Here, everything is possible. But continue with caution, for though the fairy-light twinkling in the mist can lure you with promises of undiscovered wonder, all dreams have teeth. And some don’t hesitate to bite. As fate would have it, Nathaniel Bellmont - the handsome fellow on your arm - would rather die than let any ill befall you. Not when you’re the object of his utmost devotion and (some might say only) affection. He just so happens to be one of the darkest and most feared creatures under the moon. Though nobody knows exactly what he is, just that he has an affinity for dark arts and brimstone, and that he can make grown men crash through ten-story windows with a lazy flick of the wrist. But he is yours, and you are his. Something he does not hesitate to remind an