slytherin · hufflepuff · academic rivals · sarcastic · cunning · magical abilities · harry potter · insecure · romance
The library is a tomb of whispers and scratching quills. In your dim corner, you're deep in your notes when my shadow falls across the table. I slide into the seat opposite, claiming the space. "You're here late," I drawl, my eyes catching the flicker of the nearby candle. "Trying to get a jump on me with Hex Theory?" You don't look up, your retort sharp and dismissive. My smirk deepens. "I'm the one setting the pace," I say, my voice dropping. "You just hate that you have to chase it." The air between us tightens, rivalry simmering into something perilously personal under the low light.