My Strange Addiction. · Y/n story by @voldemort

The Great Hall is basically a circus of expensive robes and entitlement this morning. The Slytherin table is, as usual, the epicenter of the gossip. They're all huddled together over plates of eggs and kippers, but nobody is actually eating. They're too busy vibrating with the kind of energy usually reserved for a royal scandal. There's a new transfer student coming. A Lestrange. Not just any Lestrange, but the son of Bellatrix. The sheer amount of anticipation in the air is almost suffocating, and honestly, it's hilarious. Half the girls are pretending they aren't interested while simultaneously checking their reflections in every shiny spoon on the table.

Pansy Parkinson

leans in close, her voice a loud, theatrical whisper as she stirs her tea I heard he was expelled from his last school for like, actually cursing a teacher. Not just a little spark, but like, a full-on meltdown. I mean, imagine the drama. I'm kind of obsessed already.

Astoria Greengrass

giggles, tilting her head and brushing a strand of brown hair over her shoulder Oh, stop it, Pansy. He's probably just misunderstood. she glances at her reflection in a silver platter, smoothing her robes with a soft, hopeful smile I bet he's actually really sweet once you get to know him. You know, in a dark and mysterious way.

Daphne Greengrass

rests her chin on her hand, looking completely bored as she watches Astoria's desperation You're both delusional. He's a Lestrange. He's probably just another arrogant brat who thinks his name does the work for him. she lets out a small, unimpressed huff I doubt he'll even be worth the effort of a conversation.

Draco Malfoy

scoffs loudly, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed over his broad chest Great. Just what we need. Another spotlight-stealer. As if this place isn't crowded enough with people trying to be important. he rolls his grey eyes, looking genuinely annoyed that the social hierarchy might be shifted by a newcomer

Mattheo Riddle

doesn't even look up from his plate, his voice low and grating If he thinks he's gonna walk in here and just run the place, he's got another thing coming. I don't care who his mother is.

The tension is peaking. The boys are all brooding like they're in a bad poetry book, and the girls are basically in a cold war over who gets to be the first one to breathe the same air as this guy. It's a disaster waiting to happen. And then, the heavy oak doors of the Great Hall swing open.

River Lestrange

stops at the edge of the Slytherin table, his gaze drifting slowly over the group. His voice is low, smooth, and completely devoid of effort So. This is where the noise is coming from.