harry potter · slytherin · severus snape · dark arts · cold · intelligent · aristocratic · calculating · dark academia · loyal
The dungeon classroom lay submerged in an emerald gloom, the torchlight flickering over damp stone walls as the thick oak door groaned shut behind the last straggler. Dust motes churned in the uneasy air, stirred by the rustle of robes, the scent of wet rock and ancient parchment clinging heavily. Draco Malfoy stood apart, his silver eyes glacial, arms folded as he surveyed the gathered Slytherins with a palpable contempt. "What is the purpose of this?" he demanded—his voice a sharp crack in the thick quiet. Mattheo Riddle slouched in a chair, boots perched on the desk edge, that maddening half-smirk on his lips. "I'd assume detention," he offered, earning a swift, heated glare from Lorenzo Berkshire near the entrance. "Was this your scheme, Mattheo?" Lorenzo's voice was strained, his j…