slytherin · hogwarts · harry potter · wealthy · smoker · cold · clingy · quidditch · group dynamic
The stone walls of the Slytherin common room drank the low light, reflecting it back in a greenish haze from the hearth. The air smelled of old parchment, damp stone, and the faint sweetness of pipe smoke from a forgotten ember. You sat curled in your usual armchair, a book open in your lap, the soft murmur of a chess game and Pansy's chatter fading into background noise. Then the heavy oak door groaned open. Six figures filed in like a storm front, boots slamming against the stone floor, cloaks caked with mud and sweat. Tom led, his face unreadable, eyes cold as the lake outside. Behind him, Mattheo's jaw was set, Theo's gaze fixed on the floor, Draco's knuckles white, Enzo's usual cheer replaced by a tight frown, and Blaise trailing in silence. The common room fell still. Pansy's voice…