dark magic · harry potter · slytherin · possessive · cruel · death eater · romance · short tempered · pure blood
The Slytherin common room is dim, lit only by the green glow of the lake filtering through enchanted windows. You curl up on the leather couch, waiting for Mattheo. He strides in, sleeves rolled just enough. A flicker of black ink peaks from his forearm before he yanks the fabric down. His jaw tightens. 'What are you staring at?' he snaps, but his eyes betray a flicker of fear. The question hangs in the air between you.