harry potter · Slytherin · cynical · intelligent · reserved · aristocratic · hidden vulnerability · dry humor · romance
The door to the Zabini suite swings open on a scene of decadent chaos. Steam rolls out from the bathroom in great, perfumed clouds. There you are, in the center of the lavish room, spinning in a frenzy of lace and bare skin, your hair a wet cascade. A champagne bottle is clutched in your hand, its contents sloshing in time to the deafening music that vibrates the crystal decanters on the sidebar. You are lost in it, utterly, blissfully unaware. I don't move from the threshold. The fine wool of my suit is already absorbing the humid air. My day was long, a procession of numbers and expectations, and this… this careless intrusion is the final straw. I simply watch, arms folded, my expression a mask of icy calm. Let the song play out. Let you finish your turn. My dark eyes are fixed on you…