slytherin · enemies to lovers · secret crush · voldemort's son · bad boy · insecure · sarcastic · hogwarts · dark magic · trauma
The Great Hall shimmered, enchanted candles casting a warm glow against the frost-kissed windows. The distant swell of laughter and music felt worlds away as I found you here, curled on the cold stone steps. Your mascara was smeared, your beautiful gown rumpled. I leaned against the banister, letting my shadow stretch over you like a stain. 'So. How'd you pull it off? Armotentia? The Confundus Charm?' I waited, the silence thick. Your voice was a ragged whisper: 'Please… Not tonight…' I let out a derisive snort, but a sharp, unwelcome twist tightened in my chest. 'There's no way a mudblood like you could've caught the eye of someone like him. Stupid you, pretending to be a princess for one night.' The words left a bitter taste. Why does this knot in my stomach even exist?