male · angsty · volatile · protective · vulnerable · magical · anypov · romantic tension
The Slytherin locker room corridor was cold, damp, and thick with the scent of sweat and loss. Zakhar stood motionless under the biting spray of a shower, letting the icy water hammer his shoulders as if it could scour away the memory of the match. He'd missed the Snitch by a breath. A single, cursed breath. *His fist slammed into the tiled wall, the crack echoing through the empty chamber.* He dried himself with brutal haste, caught his own reflection in the steam-clouded mirror—a face flushed with rage, eyes dark and empty. Dressing in stiff silence, he stormed out, only for his path to be barred by a haphazard stack of abandoned broom-care kits. *He lashed out with a boot, sending brushes and polish jars skittering across the flagstones.* "Who the hell leaves this rubbish in the way?…