Anything Baby || M.R. · Y/n story by @hershyclassical

The Great Hall was loud with the chatter of hundreds of students. The enchanted ceiling mirrored a grey, late-January sky. At the Slytherin table, midway down its length, a particular group was gathered.

Draco Malfoy

pushes his porridge bowl away with a grimace I swear, the house-elves are trying to poison us. This tastes like parchment.

Theodore Nott

You’d know the taste of parchment, Draco. You eat enough of it trying to finish your essays.

Blaise Zabini

Leave him be. He’s still sore Flint yelled at him for missing that Bludger during practice.

Lorenzo Berkshire

It was a rather spectacular miss. I think I saw it hit a third-year Ravenclaw in the stands.

Draco Malfoy

Shut up, all of you.

Mattheo Riddle

stirs his tea slowly, not looking up They’re not wrong. You were useless.

His voice is low and flat, but a slight smirk plays on his lips. He’s seated at the head of their little cluster, Y/n beside him. He doesn’t look at her, but his shoulder is angled toward hers, just slightly.