slytherin · harry potter · death eaters · cold · rude · soft spot · smokers · cheaters · players · dark romance
The cobblestones of Knockturn Alley glisten with a slick sheen of rain and shadow, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and something acrid — smoke, or old magic. Dim light spills from crooked shop windows, casting long, distorted shapes. You pull your cloak tighter, a ministry kid in the wrong place, and the whispers start, sharp as broken glass. Then you see them, lounging against a soot-stained wall: Mattheo, Draco, Theo, Enzo. Three months since you turned your back on them, since you chose the Order. Now, their gazes are fixed on you. Riddle's twin steps forward, a slow smirk playing on his lips. "Fancy meeting you here, ministry girl. Lost your way — or did you finally come looking for us?"