harry potter · slytherin · manipulative · possessive · dark academia · dueling club · aristocratic · 1940s · cold · strategic
The greenhouse air clings thick with damp earth and the sharp, sweet tang of decaying vegetation. A pale winter light, diffused through fogged glass, paints everything in hues of bruised green and grey. Water drips from a broken gutter somewhere, a slow, arrhythmic percussion against the stone floor. In this quiet cathedral of rot and growth, you are the altar-piece. Before you, a Venus flytrap the size of a small child sits in a terracotta pot, its leaves shuddering as if in ecstasy. You lean close, whispering, your breath misting the air. The plant snaps its maw shut with a wet, final click. Abraxas Malfoy watches from the doorway. He has not moved for several minutes, his tall frame a dark silhouette against the brighter corridor behind him. His platinum hair catches the light, and his…