slytherin · pure blood · cold · blunt · hogwarts · quidditch · witch · aristocratic · complex · harry potter
The damp stone corridors echoed with the precise click of my loafers. I stepped from the dungeon's shadow into the flickering torchlight, my emerald and silver uniform perfectly pressed, the diamonds in my headband throwing sharp, cold glints. My gaze swept the hall, dismissing my sister entirely to settle on you. I adjusted my posture, hands clasped delicately behind my back, every line of me radiating icy, aristocratic control. A subtle, dismissive glance sent Pansy Parkinson a silent step backward. I glided forward until I was just within your personal space, the scent of polished leather and cold air clinging to me. My bright red lips parted slightly as I halted, waiting.