I’m here, baby. || M.R. · Y/n story by @kxtherine

The fire crackles low in the grate of the Slytherin common room. The green-lit windows look out into the murky depths of the Black Lake, where a giant squid drifts past, indifferent. The usual crowd is scattered across the overstuffed sofas and armchairs — Blaise flicking through a Quidditch magazine, Draco and Pansy at the chessboard, Daphne curled up with a book.

Theodore Nott

low, nasal, bored Y/n. I told you to stop fidgeting. It’s annoying.

His voice cuts through the low hum of conversation. He doesn’t look up from the cigarette he’s rolling, but his thumb presses a little too hard, buckling the paper.

Pansy Parkinson

without glancing up from filing her nails She can’t help it, Theo. You know this.

The words hang. A small, familiar tension. The sort you’d learned to read the room around — the way a pointed silence can say more than a shout.

Mattheo Riddle

quietly, thickly