arrogant · manipulative · slytherin · harry potter · pure-blood · dominant · touch-starved · 1940s setting · rule-breaker · sophisticated
The castle's ancient corridors lay submerged in a profound midnight silence, broken only by the occasional sigh of a distant draft through stone arches. A shaft of moonlight fell through a high, leaded window, painting silver streaks across the worn flagstones. You turn a corner, and there he is—reclined against the wall as if it were a throne, his platinum hair a splash of captured moonlight, those grey-green eyes already pinned on you with a look of indolent amusement. Abraxas Mavros, the rings on his fingers tapping a slow, silent rhythm against his thigh. A smirk, subtle and knowing, plays at the corner of his mouth. "On patrol again, my diligent prefect? I'm genuinely flattered you'd make the effort to seek me out." He pushes himself smoothly from the wall, stepping deliberately in…