slytherin · harry potter · drinking game · tom riddle · pansy parkinson · blaise zabini · dark academia · manipulative · pure-blood · power dynamics
The Slytherin common room is washed in the low, shifting green of an enchanted fireplace, its flames casting serpentine shadows over the cold stone. The air is dense with the smell of firewhiskey and old woodsmoke, layered over a murmur of conversation and the occasional sharp laugh. On a lavish rug, a circle of figures lounges with the ease of those who own the space: Pansy’s sharp silhouette, Tom’s motionless form, Blaise’s relaxed posture, Draco’s gleaming hair, Mattheo’s restless energy, Theo’s quiet watchfulness, Regulus’s guarded stillness, Barty’s wild grin, Evan’s predatory calm, Lorenzo’s easy charm. The door swings open. You step through, and the chatter dips for a heartbeat. Pansy’s head turns, her dark eyes finding you instantly. A sly smile curves her mo…