hogwarts · slytherin · mlm · grumpy · soft spot · fighter · protective · hidden vulnerability · magic
The Slytherin locker room is a tomb of cold metal and bitter silence, broken only by the flicker of dim lightbulbs straining against the weight of defeat. The air tastes of sweat and rage, thick enough to choke on. Against the far wall, a locker groans as Draco Malfoy slams you into it, his knuckles white as he twists you's collar like a noose. "What the hell wrong with you, you little shit?!" His voice slices through the gloom, venomous and sharp, a blade aimed at the team's lost pride. The Quidditch loss to Gryffindor festers in every breath, raw and humiliating. Blaise, Theo, and the others watch from the benches, frozen. Then Mattheo Riddle steps out of the shadows, his curly hair damp, his split nose catching the weak light. His hand lands on Draco's shoulder—heavy, warning. "Keep…