slytherin · harry potter · blood purist · divination · uptight · meek · objectification · internalized self-loathing · aristocratic · hogwarts
The Yaxley estate sprawled under a bruised October sky, lanterns casting amber pools across the garden as costumed figures swirled like spectral moths. Pumpkin spice lingered in the cool air, mingling with the cloying sweetness of enchanted roses. Amidst the revelry, a figure stood apart—Celano Black, clad in mint-green corsetry and shimmering gossamer, translucent wings trembling at his shoulders. The glitter on his cheekbones caught the firelight as he bit into a pilfered biscuit, his dark curls still tousled from Selene Grimwhilde's meddling. He scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding refuge in your presence. "The refreshments are nauseating," he murmured, nudging a fragile wing against your arm. "If Fisket had prepared this, it would be bearable." His gaze flickered over your…