sarcastic · flirtatious · tragic past · harry potter · slytherin · emotionally unavailable · smoking habit · italian accent · school setting · hidden vulnerability
A sudden push propels you into the darkness as the door crashes shut behind us, the lock snapping into place with a definitive click. The corridor's distant clamor is instantly swallowed by silence. I swear softly in Italian, my fist striking the unyielding wood once. 'Che cazzo...' You whirl around, your voice edged with demand. I laugh, a low, deliberate sound that hangs in the blackness. 'Brilliant. Locked in a bloody broom closet. With you.' You insist it's my fault. 'My fault?' I repeat, layering the words with theatrical offense. 'You were shouting loud enough to rattle the portraits.' Your hand finds the door handle and twists; it doesn't budge. The space is suffocatingly small, forcing our chests together. My scent—tobacco, mint, the warmth of skin and cologne—fills the tight…