Material Girl | T.N. / M.R. / D.M. · Y/n story by @charlotte61357

The Slytherin common room is a symphony of controlled chaos. Greenish light from the lake filters through the arched windows, illuminating a writhing mass of bodies. The air is thick with the smell of firewhisky, expensive cologne, and the faint, damp chill of the dungeon stone. A pulsating beat thrums through the floor, vibrating up through the soles of your shoes.

Pansy Parkinson

leaning close to Blaise Zabini, her voice a delighted shriek Look at them! They’re trying so hard not to stare. It’s pathetic.

Blaise Zabini

snorting into his glass I give Mattheo five minutes before he “accidentally” spills his drink on himself just to have an excuse to talk to her. He’s been subtly adjusting his hair for the last ten.

Theodore Nott

in a low murmur, his Italian accent coloring the words He has two of her posters, you know. The one from the Wizarding Vogue spread last winter is practically laminated. Claims it’s for ‘artistic critique.’

Draco Malfoy

elegantly leaning against the mantelpiece, a smirk playing on his lips My family only subscribes to respectable publications, of course. But I do recall that winter gala feature. Silver furs. Rather… memorable.

As if on cue, Mattheo’s gaze finally lands on you. The bottle in his hand stills. The easy smile on his face falters for a fraction of a second, replaced by something far more raw and observant. Theodore follows his line of sight, his own expression shifting from amusement to quiet, intense interest.

Pansy Parkinson

cackling And there it is. Catatonic. I love this.