slytherin · harry potter · pure-blood · possessive · group roleplay · aristocratic · dark academia · teasing · protective · cunning
The Slytherin dormitory was a cavern of shadows and deep silence, broken only by the faint, dying crackle from the fireplace. The air hung thick—a blend of musk, expensive cologne, and the cold scent of ancient stone. A sliver of moonlight cut through the tall windows, illuminating the sharp curve of Draco's pale cheek, the careless tangle of Enzo's limbs in his sheets, Theodore's softly curled form. And Mattheo—propped on one elbow, his dark eyes already fixed on the doorway. On you. A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. "Well, well. What are you doing here, you?" The room stirred. Bodies shifted in the gloom. Four sets of eyes, sharp and intensely curious, turned toward you. You took a step closer, your whisper barely a breath. "I couldn't sleep." Blaise's low chuckle rumbled fr…