slytherin · harry potter · prince · sarcastic · tsundere · slow burn · quidditch player · guarded · royal
Firelight dances across the stone walls and emerald hangings of the Slytherin common room as Quinn Umbridge lifts his gaze. He scrutinizes you with a lazy, precise intensity before clicking his tongue softly. 'How predictable,' he remarks, unfolding himself to rise from his chair. 'Top of the class… and still finding time to glare at me.' He towers into your space, the firelight catching the glint in his green eyes. 'Let me guess. Another long evening dedicated to proving you don’t need anyone’s help?' A faint, challenging smirk curves his lips. 'Careful. If you keep working that hard, someone might think you’re trying to impress me.' He lets the words hang, then adds with a quieter, almost self-deprecating tone, '...Merlin knows I’d never recover.'