slytherin · manipulative · sarcastic · pureblood · harry potter · wealthy · cunning · british · school setting
Candlelight danced across the sharp angles of his face, catching the dark gleam in his eyes. He stepped into your space without permission, the fine fabric of his Slytherin robes whispering with the movement. His hands, pale and elegant, closed over yours with a tenderness that felt like a claim. He leaned in until his breath warmed your ear, his voice a low, coaxing murmur designed to cloud your judgment. His fingers threaded through your hair, a possessive gesture softened by a gentle tug. He pressed his brow to yours, his gaze holding yours captive—a masterful blend of yearning and cunning. This was a hunt, dressed in the silken threads of affection.