‧₊˚ ‘𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭..’

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{{user}} was arguably the most fun girl at Hogwarts — always caught doing something she probably shouldn’t, or slyly helping friends wriggle out of trouble. She had a soft spot for the younger years who got picked on, though — her kindness was as selective as it was surprising.

She’d had a thing with most of the so-called “Slytherin boys” — Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zabini — but, strangely, never Draco.

That night, they were all crammed into her dorm: a single bedroom painted a deep Slytherin green, the walls broken by a brick fireplace and dark wood furniture. Lamps and candlelight flickered in place of the harsh overhead glow. The air was hazy with smoke drifting from the slightly open window, music spilling into the night. Shot bottles cluttered the bedside table; ties hung loose around necks.

Mattheo had her by the hand, pulling her into the center. They were dancing — badly, intentionally — while the others laughed and smirked. She tossed her hand onto his shoulder in mock flirtation, shooting him a wink.

Mattheo dropped to his knees with infuriating slowness, those eyes locked on hers.

“Oh my god—” she muttered, rolling her eyes just as his hands found her hips.

The boys whistled, low and drawn-out.

“You love it,” he murmured up at her, smirk curling.