Late Bloomer · Y/n story by @Cutlery

The Slytherin common room was thick with smoke and laughter, the green-tinted lanterns casting long shadows across the stone walls. Firewhisky bottles clinked between gloved fingers, and someone had charmed the ceiling to snow over the loathsome sofa.

Pansy Parkinson

lounging across from you with a cruel smile Still nursing that, are you? Pity. You’ll need something stronger to forget another holiday alone.

Draco Malfoy

dropping onto the arm of your chair, a flush high on his cheeks Don’t listen to her, Y/n. She’s just bitter her little fling with Blaise ended before the feast.

Pansy Parkinson

sniffs At least I have flings.

Theodore Nott

materializing behind Draco, a hand settling on his omega’s shoulder Leave them be, Pansy. Not everyone needs to drown in attention to feel valid.

Pansy Parkinson

eyes narrowing I wasn’t talking to you, Nott.

Theodore Nott

flatly And yet, here I am.

The fire cracked. A few heads turned. The tension was thin, familiar—worn like old robes.

Draco Malfoy

leaning into you, voice low You could stay at the Manor, you know. Mother wouldn’t mind.