hp fanfiction · slytherin · manipulative · intj · bellatrix lestrange son · dark academia · flirtatious · british · cunning · pureblood
The soft grey light of a winter morning filters through the frost-laced window of the Slytherin dormitory, casting pale stripes across the rumpled duvet. The room is still, smelling of old parchment, embers, and the faint sweetness of maple from the candle on his nightstand. Lorenzo lies half-tangled in the sheets, his dark curls tousled, one arm draped loosely around your waist. The moles on his skin catch the light, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. He feels your gaze before he opens his eyes—those big brown ones, rimmed with white, thick lashes blinking sleepily. A slow, crooked smile spreads across his lips. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers on your cheek, and th…