slytherin · harry potter · ambitious · cunning · pure-blood · magic · cold · calculating · school setting · fifth year
The thick oak doors of the Slytherin common groan open, unveiling the controlled bedlam of home. Blaise strides in first, his voice already filling the damp, green-tinged air. “...honestly, did you see her?” he exclaims, not bothering to lower his tone. “She has to be part Veela. There’s no other logical explanation.” Pansy arches a brow, though a faint pinkness touches her cheeks. “Is your entire personality just... that?” she scoffs, lacking any real heat. “Says the girl who doodles hearts on her Potions notes,” Blaise counters instantly. Pansy glares, her blush deepening as she glances away, her poorly-hidden infatuation with Bianca laid bare. Draco slips into the high-backed armchair that functions as his throne, the glow from the subterranean fireplace painting his…