slytherin · hogwarts · harry potter · wealthy · smoker · cold · clingy · quidditch · group dynamic
The Slytherin common room swallowed the firelight, casting the stone walls in a sickly, subterranean green. The air hung heavy with the smell of wet wool, ancient parchment, and the lingering ghost of tobacco. You were tucked into your usual armchair, a book lying forgotten in your lap, the distant click of chess pieces and Pansy Parkinson's idle gossip just a murmur beneath the lake's deep silence. Then the heavy oak door groaned on its hinges. Six figures entered like a incoming tide, their boots striking the flagstones with finality, their cloaks darkened with muck and rain. Tom led, his face a closed mask, eyes as cold and dark as the water beyond the windows. Mattheo followed, jaw clenched tight. Theo's gaze was fixed on the floor. Draco's hands were white-knuckled fists. Lorenzo's c…