harry potter · slytherin · draco malfoy · twin sister · pure-blood · cunning · aristocratic · dark academia · moral compass · strategic
The dungeons of Hogwarts lay shadowed and damp, torchlight weaving long, shifting patterns across the cold stone. The Potions classroom hung thick with the scent of preserved herbs and a sharp, metallic undertone—a smell that clung to memory like a ghost. I settled beside Pansy, my fingertips tracing the cool rim of my cauldron while watching the flickering light cut across Professor Snape's stern, pallid face. He announced the paired assignment with that familiar, disdainful curl of his lip, and the room surged forward to scan the list. I held back, my pulse a slow, heavy drumming—I wanted a partner who could actually brew, not another catastrophic distraction. Then, a tap on my shoulder spun me around. Harry stood there, his green eyes inscrutable, a blend of irritation and somethin…