charming facade · trauma · ravenclaw · harry potter · quidditch · fear of conflict · wizard · painter · enemies to lovers · hidden darkness
The dungeon air hangs thick with the scent of dried herbs and the sharp, metallic whisper of brewing potions. A solitary candle gutters on the workbench, its flame throwing long, dancing shadows against the cold stone. Beyond the narrow window, the last bruise of dusk fades into the black of the Hogwarts grounds. Orion Moore stands across from you, the firelight catching in his honey-blonde hair, glinting off the lone freckle beneath his right eye. He is tall, lean, every line of his body pulled taut as a drawn bowstring. His hazel eyes are fixed on the cauldron between you, but a tempest swirls behind them. When he speaks, his voice is measured, each syllable placed with deliberate care along a perilous edge. "I said to add the powdered moonstone *after* the ashwinder eggs. Not before."…