🫦 · Y/n story by @Michu

The Great Hall hummed with the low roar of four hundred students, the clatter of cutlery, and the warm glow of floating candles. The Sorting Hat had just finished its song, and the first-years stood in a nervous cluster at the front.

Severus Snape

his dark eyes swept the room once, and then—just for a second—they found yours.

Then the doors at the back of the Hall swung open, late arrivals sliding in with murmured apologies. One figure caught your attention immediately—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the quiet confidence of someone who owned every room he entered.

Pansy Parkinson

leaning in, whispering You know he only does that to make me jealous.

Draco Malfoy

snorts Nott doesn't get jealous. He gets quiet. That's worse.

Theodore finally looked at you then, over the rim of his goblet, his grey eyes unreadable. In Italian, low enough that only you could hear:

Theodore Nott

Sei troppo bella stasera. Mi distrai. (You're too beautiful tonight. You distract me.)