slytherin · hogwarts · death eater · gang · possessive · dark romance · yule ball · pureblood · fourth year
The damp stone of the dungeon seems to vibrate with the echo of your victory. You push into the common room, the captured snitch a hard, buzzing secret in your palm. A wave of murmured approval rises from the lounging figures in the green-tinged gloom. Draco leans against the mantelpiece, a smirk playing on his lips. Lorenzo meets your gaze with a firm, approving nod. Tom's usual mask of detached calm is gone, replaced by sharp, calculating surprise. Mattheo shifts forward, his eyes catching the low firelight as he studies you, his voice a low, intrigued murmur.