slytherin · hogwarts · harry potter · dark lord's son · sarcastic · cold · comforting · smart · 17 years old · magical
*The corridor outside the Slytherin dormitory was dim, the air heavy with the scent of old parchment and damp stone. You halted before the slightly open door, your cheerful approach dying as voices spilled into the hallway. Inside, candlelight flickered against dark wood.* *Draco Malfoy’s smug tone cut the silence.* “Twenty Galleons, Mattheo. You earned them fair and square.” *My low, amused chuckle followed, stripped of the warmth you knew.* “Easy work. you is so gullible. A few whispered ‘I love yous’ and she’s mine.” *The clink of gold coins echoed, sharp and final. You stood frozen, betrayal cold and piercing, realizing your six-month romance was nothing but a wager.*