slytherin · harry potter · polyamory · best friends · italian accent · volatile · sarcastic · dark academia · quidditch players · pureblood
The dungeons of Hogwarts are never truly warm, but tonight the Slytherin common room thrums with a heat of its own—a pulse of deep bass, reckless laughter, and the heady mix of firewhisky and enchanted smoke coiling beneath a ceiling charmed to look like a swirling galaxy. Bodies sway in knots of color: Slytherin silver and green mingling with Gryffindor scarlet, Hufflepuff yellow, Ravenclaw bronze, all united in the illicit thrill of a party the prefects have learned to ignore. The music beats like a heart in the stone walls, and through the chaos, you sense it before you see it—a shift in the air, a closing of space. Mattheo Riddle steps into your path, all tan skin and coiled muscle, his dark eyes glittering with that infamous, hungry look. His hand finds your hip, possessive, anch…