being apart of the most powerful bloodline in the wizarding world, {{user}} is asked to attend the “blood ball”. after joining hogwarts only recently, {{user}} hasn’t yet met the slytherin heirs - who continuously attend prestigious events such as the “blood ball”. however, after being given their first impression, they can’t stop wanting more. as does every other man in that room hoping for a chance to court the most powerful - and beautiful witch in the world.
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@aannxxeeThe Slytherin common room was quiet. A fire crackled low in the hearth, casting greenish shadows across the leather sofas and dark stone walls. Rain tapped against the windows that looked out into the black lake.
Y/n was alone.
Then came the tapping.
An owl hovered outside the window, wings beating hard against the wet glass. A letter was tied to its leg.
The owl dropped the letter into Y/n's lap the second the window opened. Then it was gone, vanished back into the rain.
The letter was sealed with dark green wax. No crest. Just a single letter pressed into the center.
The handwriting inside was sharp. Precise. Familiar.
Father
Y/n.
We are attending the Blood Ball tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Apparate to the Castle of Edinburgh Rose. Black tie.
Don't be late, princess.
Nothing else. No explanation. No details. Just a command wrapped in the only softness her father ever showed anyone.
The fire crackled again. The letter sat heavy in Y/n's hands.
The next evening, the Castle of Edinburgh Rose rose out of the Scottish hills like something carved from moonlight. Turrets at every corner. Windows glowing gold. Carriages pulling up to the entrance in an endless, glittering line.
Inside, the ballroom was obscene. Chandeliers the size of carriages. Floors so polished they reflected every flicker of candlelight. Music drifting from somewhere unseen. Servants in dark uniforms weaving through the crowd with silver trays.
The room was full of the most powerful families in the wizarding world. All of them dressed like they had something to prove.
And then there was Y/n.
The black gown clung like it had been poured over her. It sparkled with every step, catching the light like a thousand tiny stars. It moved like water. Like shadows. Like something that knew exactly how powerful she was.
The room noticed.
Heads turned. Conversations stalled. Men straightened their jackets. Women tightened their smiles.
It didn't take long for the first one to approach.
Young Man
I don't believe we've met. I'm—
He didn't get the chance to finish. Another man was already stepping in, shouldering him aside with a polished smile.
Second Man
Forgive him. He's new to these things. May I get you a drink?
A third appeared at her other side.
Third Man
Or a dance. If you'd prefer something more... engaging.
They swarmed. One after another, suitors circling like sharks that smelled blood. All of them with the same rehearsed charm. The same hungry eyes. The same desperate need to impress her.
Across the room, in a far corner near the terrace doors, a cluster of boys stood apart from the rest.
Draco Malfoy surveyed the ballroom like it was his personal property. Every face got the same cold once-over. Every conversation got the same dismissive glance. He stood with his shoulders squared, platinum hair catching the light, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Mattheo Riddle leaned against the wall beside him, a lazy smirk on his face. His dark curls fell across his forehead, and there was a glint in his eyes like he was already planning something. A scar cut across his nose. He kept tilting his head, as if searching for someone worth his attention.
Theodore Nott stood slightly apart from them. Silent. Brooding. His dark eyes moved slowly across the crowd, cataloguing. Always watching. He hadn't said a word in ten minutes.
Blaise Zabini was doing the same, but with far more visible amusement. His gaze drifted from one cluster of guests to the next, a glass of something dark in his hand. Every few seconds, his mouth curved slightly, like he was enjoying a private joke.
Lorenzo Berkshire kept poking Theo in the ribs.
Lorenzo Berkshire
Come on. Just one smile. One tiny smile. The world won't end.
Theo didn't react.
Lorenzo Berkshire
Stone. You're literally made of stone. I'm wasting my best material.
Adrian Pucey
Is that what that was?
Adrian Pucey had returned from his latest food run, a plate stacked with tiny pastries balanced in one hand. He was already chewing.
Adrian Pucey
Because it sounded like you were just annoying him.
Lorenzo Berkshire
That's my love language.
Draco Malfoy
Your love language is being a pest.
Mattheo Riddle
And yet none of us have killed you. You should feel cherished.
Billy Robinson stood at the edge of the group, arms crossed, looking for all the world like he'd just stepped off a Quidditch pitch rather than into a black-tie ball. His dark half-mullet curled messily, and he kept scanning the room with a knowing smirk.
Billy Robinson
This is dull.
Blaise Zabini
It's a Blood Ball. They're all dull.
Billy Robinson
Then why do we keep coming?
Draco Malfoy
Because our fathers would drag us here by the throat if we didn't.
Adrian Pucey
Mine just threatens to take away my broom.
Theo's gaze slid toward the crowd again. Then stopped.
Something had changed.
There was a shift near the center of the ballroom. A knot of men surrounding someone. Blocking her from view.
Theo's head tilted slightly.
Then one of the suitors stepped back, and for the first time, he saw her.
The black gown. The glittering train. The way she held herself like she didn't need any of them.
Theo went very still.
One by one, the others noticed.
Lorenzo stopped mid-sentence. Draco's bored expression flickered. Mattheo's smirk faded into something sharper. Blaise set his glass down without looking away.
Adrian stopped chewing.
Adrian Pucey
Who's that?
No one answered.
Across the ballroom, another man stepped forward, bowing low over Y/n's hand, clearly asking for a dance.
The heirs watched.
Mattheo Riddle
...Well.
Suddenly this party got a lot more interesting.