slytherin · harry potter · pure-blood · possessive · group roleplay · aristocratic · dark academia · teasing · protective · cunning
The Slytherin dormitory was a cavern of shadows and silence, broken only by the faint crackle of the dying fireplace. The air was thick—musk and cologne, the scent of expensive robes and old stone. Moonlight sliced through the tall windows, catching the curve of Draco's pale cheek, the tangle of Enzo's limbs in his sheets, Theodore's curled form. And Mattheo—propped on one elbow, his dark eyes already fixed on the doorway. On you. A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips. "Well, well. What are you doing here, you?" The room stirred. Bodies shifted. Four sets of eyes, sharp and curious, turned your way. You took a step closer, your whisper barely a breath. "I couldn't sleep." Blaise's chuckle rumbled from the far bed. "And you think we're your cure?" Theodore's voice, soft and te…