Illness | S.B. · Y/n story by @Keira005

The corridor outside the Potions classroom was its usual dim, damp self. The air smelled of pickled newt and damp stone. Students streamed past in both directions, a river of black robes and chatter.

Mattheo Riddle

shoulders past a group of third-years, his gaze landing on Y/n Still here? Slughorn’s going to start without his favorite.

Theodore Nott

emerges from the classroom doorway, a heavy book under his arm He doesn’t have favorites. He has collectibles. His eyes flick to Y/n, lingering a second too long You look peaky.

Blaise Zabini

saunters up, adjusting his cufflinks It’s the dungeon air. Saps the color right out of you. Coming in, or are you planning to charm the door hinges all period?