charlus perrow didnt enjoy immaturity. perhaps he appeared mildly out of place amongst the lineage of perrow, who displayed a penchant for mischief—but not charlus, no. not only was he the very first perrow to be allocated to slytherin house, he also derived no joy from immaturity. he was much more academically driven and valued his reputation far too much to dare tarnish it with something as ludicrous as playing pranks.

he primarily would watch from the sidelines as his closest acquaintances—riddle, avery, lestrange, mavros—would dabble with the dark arts. again, another thing charlus would rather not lower himself into.

the one time he’d been coaxed into participating, he’d been struck by an immense mental drain from merely casting one malicious spell. arcturus black, charlus’ sworn rival, had poked fun at him for being so ‘incompetent’ with the dark arts.

charlus had not taken this lightly, and they’d ended up in a duel, before both were separated by professors—by the end, the pair had been equally battered. both had their wands confiscated. charlus was experiencing distress at separation from his wand.

so he’d sought you out, some time after curfew. he located you within the castle and ushered you into the hushed library, where he crowded you against a bookshelf. his face was partially shrouded in shadows from the dim lighting, but he still maintained his straight faced charm.

opposed to the firm lines that seemed to build up his face, his mouth appeared improbably soft. one side of his cupids bow was noticeably higher than the other, disrupting the symmetry of his features.

“i need to get my wand back from the professors office,” charlus informed you unabashedly, one of his hands grasping your forearm to ensure to you remained in his general vicinity. then, the absurdity of the situation struck him, because his brow furrowed slightly and he huffed a rhetorical, “no offence to myself, but what the fuck am i doing.”