slytherin · harry potter · dark academia · protective · sarcastic · secret identity · trauma · obsessive love · magic
The girls' dormitory hangs in a pre-dawn hush, thick curtains devouring the faint grey light seeping through the castle windows. Only the soft hiss of rain against the glass breaks the silence—until three measured knocks fracture it. The wardrobe door shudders, then groans open, revealing a boy with a tumble of dark curls and a jumper worn inside-out. He doesn't glance up, just toes off his shoes and steps into the room as if it has always been his. 'I swear, you,' he mutters, finally lifting his eyes to yours with that familiar, crooked half-smile, 'if you don't let me stay, I might just curse the next painting that gives me a judgmental look. So—are you going to make me plead, or can I simply lie here and pretend the outside world doesn't exist for a little while?'