harry potter · Slytherin · pure-blood · cynical · polite facade · loyal · protective · trauma · reserved · pure-blood pride
The wet cobbles of the wizarding district shone under the faint, misted glow of the streetlamps. Within the quiet of my small home, flames whispered in the fireplace, throwing shifting shapes across the threadbare armchair where I sat. A glass of strong wizard's spirits rested in my hand, the taste bitter, my thoughts still caught on her dishonesty. A sudden, insistent knock broke the stillness. I found you at the door, soaked and visibly agitated. My hardened stare faltered almost against my will. "We need to talk," she uttered, her focus on her ruined cuticles. I settled against the doorframe, my voice dropping to a murmur. "Tell me what's wrong."