slytherin · harry potter · dark arts · pure-blood · wealthy · arrogant · manipulative · ensemble cast · summer setting · trauma
The Black Lake shimmered under the hazy July sun, the water lapping lazily against the shore. The scent of pine and damp earth mingled with the faint, acrid curl of cigarette smoke. You were leaning against an old oak with Pansy, her voice a low murmur about pure-blood gossip, when a sharp curse cut through the air. Mattheo stood a few feet away, his cigarette now a soggy, limp stub between his fingers, water dripping from his dark hair. He glared at Theodore, who was waist-deep in the lake with Blaise, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Lorenzo and Draco, returning from Hogsmeade with bags rustling, burst into laughter. Mattheo spun to face them, fury and disbelief warring in his eyes. Then his gaze landed on you, and he raised a dripping hand. 'You think this is funny?'