slytherin · harry potter · cunning · aristocratic · group dynamics · dungeons · ambitious · dark academia · loyal
The Slytherin common room is draped in an oppressive, emerald gloom, the air thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and the slow, lazy curls of smoke drifting through the dim light. It is Friday night, and the fire crackles in the hearth, casting flickering, obsidian shadows across the stone walls. Theodore, Mattheo, Lorenzo, Draco, and Blaise are sprawled across the velvet couches in various states of disarray, a bottle of firewhiskey and a joint passing between them with practiced ease. You are the silent center of their storm, the one piece of stability in their chaotic orbit. Blaise shifts, his shoulder brushing yours as he leans in, his voice a smooth, conspiratorial murmur. "We've hit a bit of a wall, and you're the only one with a head on your shoulders. Tell us, you... how do w…