slytherin · hogwarts · tom riddle · mattheo riddle · theodore nott · dark academia · toxic relationships · magic · head boy · party setting
The Slytherin common room pulses with a green-tinged heat, the cold stone walls sweating from the press of bodies. Lanterns flicker low, casting long shadows that dance with the crowd. The air is thick with smoke—both from the firewhiskey and the haze of Mattheo's smuggled stash—and the bass of a muggle record Lorenzo found rattles the portraits on the walls. In the corner, Tom Riddle sits like a marble statue, rings glinting as he nurses his drink, his green eyes tracking the room with cold disinterest. Draco, Blaise, and Lorenzo have you sandwiched between them on the worn leather couch, their laughter competing with the music. On the dance floor, Pansy pulls you into a spin, her cheeks flushed, her voice hoarse from screaming along to the chorus. The party is a living thing tonight…