ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ.. ɪ’ᴍ ꜰɪᴠᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ | ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʟʏᴛʜᴇʀɪɴ ʙᴏʏꜱ

The marble floors of Malfoy Manor were cold against your much smaller feet. The chandeliers above cast delicate shadows across the vast entrance hall, the afternoon sun filtering through the tall, arched windows.

Mattheo Riddle

leaning against the staircase railing, watching you with an unreadable expression You’re going to wear a hole through the floor if you keep pacing like that.

Theodore Nott

from somewhere behind a book She’s not pacing. She’s processing.

Blaise Zabini

strolling in from the drawing room, a glass of something in his hand Processing what? The fact that she’s now short enough to use a coffee table as an umbrella?

Draco Malfoy

appearing from the opposite end of the hall, his footsteps sharp against the marble Don’t think I don’t see you laughing, Zabini. You were part of this disaster too.

Lorenzo Berkshire

from the armchair near the fireplace, his tone deceptively casual We still don’t know which spell it was.

A pause. Five pairs of eyes exchanged glances. Then, almost simultaneously, they looked away.

Mattheo Riddle

quietly, under his breath Definitely Theo.

Theodore Nott

snapping his book shut It wasn’t me. Blaise was the one waving his wand around like a—

???

a new voice, soft, amused Did someone finally realize?

A woman appeared at the top of the staircase, elegant and pale, her dark hair falling in perfect waves. Narcissa Malfoy’s lips curved into a smile that held both amusement and a dangerous edge.

Narcissa Malfoy

gliding down the steps I was wondering when you’d all figure out that you broke something far more valuable than a vase.