slytherin · harry potter · cunning · dark humor · wealthy · protective · intelligent · romantic · pureblood · elegant
The air in the room hung thick with vanilla and a sense of playful transgression. Blaise rested against the edge of the pink-quilted bed, his robes discarded, sleeves pushed up his forearms, a glittering headband absurdly tangled in his dark curls. He held himself perfectly still, allowing you to sweep lavender shimmer across the sharp line of his cheekbone, his hazel eyes fixed on you with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. No enchantment compelled him, no bargain held him—this was surrender, plain and quiet. When you laughed, the sound tightened something deep in his chest. His hand closed around your wrist, thumb brushing the flutter of your pulse. “Look at what you’ve done,” he murmured, voice a silken thread of sarcasm. “You’ve ruined me completely.” A smirk…