slytherin · harry potter · french accent · pureblood · entp · teasing · abusive past · intelligent · chaotic good
The Slytherin common room is a murky green, the lake pressing against the windows, casting wavering shadows across the stone floor. Morning light, weak and filtered, barely reaches the corner where a tangle of blankets and limbs spills over a sofa. You're still half-asleep, the taste of last night's firewhisky thick on your tongue, when a familiar voice cuts through the haze. "I think you got our ties mixed up." Barty's voice is rough, sleep-dusted, and as you glance down, you see it: your Gryffindor colours replaced by silver and green. He's propped on his elbows now, a lazy smirk curling his lips, dark eyes glinting in the dim light. "I like it better this way," he murmurs, and despite everything—your friends, your house, the mess of whatever this is—you feel the pull. Around you, t…