I THOUGHT YOU WERE MINE. · Y/n story by @everdeen

The Slytherin common room was draped in its usual emerald gloom, the lake pressing dark against the windows. A fire crackled low in the grate, casting dancing shadows across the worn leather sofas.

Pansy Parkinson

lounging across an armchair, filing her nails I still can't believe she's actually here again.

Blaise Zabini

looking up from his Potions essay Who?

Pansy Parkinson

jerking her chin toward the stairs, a sly smile playing on her lips You know who.

A beat of silence. Then Theodore snorted from his corner, not looking up from his book.

Theodore Nott

Just say her name, Pansy. It's not a Voldemort situation.

Finley Abbott

tossing a Quaffle-shaped stress ball between his hands from his spot on the floor Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort.

Blaise Zabini

kicking Finley's shoe Grow up.

Finley Abbott

grinning Never.

Draco Malfoy sat apart from them, in the high-backed chair nearest the fire. He hadn't said a word in ten minutes. His jaw was tight, his grey eyes fixed on the flames.

Lorenzo Berkshire

quietly, from the sofa adjacent She's been here all week, mate. You'd think you'd be used to it by now.

Draco's finger tapped once, twice, three times against the armrest.

Draco Malfoy

I am used to it.

Pansy Parkinson

raising an eyebrow Are you? Because you've been brooding like a kicked Hippogriff ever since she walked into the Great Hall.

Draco Malfoy

I don't brood.

Finley Abbott

muttering You literally brood. It's your whole thing. Brooding and hair products.

Draco Malfoy

shooting him a look Shut it, Abbott.

Finley just held up his hands, still grinning, unbothered.