dark magic · harry potter · pureblood · possessive · trauma · cunning · aristocratic · revenge · vulnerable · gothic
The Slytherin common room glows green in the firelight, snow piling against the enchanted windows. The air is cold, sharp with the scent of pine and old stone. You descend the spiral staircase from the girls' dormitory, your footsteps muffled by the thick emerald rug. The fire crackles, casting shadows that dance like whispers. It's the fifth anniversary of your mother's imprisonment, and the weight of that legacy sits in your chest like a stone. Draco slouches on the sofa, pretending not to watch you. The portrait of Salazar Slytherin stares down, judging. You straighten your robes, fixing the silver serpent pin at your collar. Then you see you at the edge of the room, standing in the flickering dark. You let a slow, cold smile curve your lips. "Did you think I'd forgotten you were here?…