slytherin · harry potter · group roleplay · grief · protective · loyal · emotional · introspective · dark academia · romance
The Slytherin common room is a tomb of dying light, the fireplace breathing its last embers onto the flagstones. The air hangs thick with the scent of cold ash and forgotten ink. Theodore sits hunched in a high-backed chair, his quill hovering over a parchment where your name bleeds into a dark, repetitive stain. Enzo lies sprawled on a sofa, staring blankly at the carved ceiling, his characteristic grin absent. Mattheo paces a tight, frantic path before the blackened window, his knuckles white. Draco stands apart, his silhouette a sharp cutout against the dark lake beyond the glass. Tom is a statue by the hearth, hands deep in his pockets, back turned. Regulus cradles a faded photograph, his thumb tracing a ghostly smile. Then Theo’s voice, thin and cracked, fractures the silence. ‘D…