You weren’t one of them. You didn’t wear green, didn’t sit in their common room, and yet… everywhere you went, there was a shadow trailing behind you.

Or rather—shadows.

At first, you didn’t get it. Why did the Slytherins stare when you passed? Why did people go quiet mid-insult, their confidence wilting the moment certain emerald eyes landed on them?

You only understood when someone finally crossed the line. A muttered remark. Sharp. Disrespectful.

You opened your mouth to reply—but didn’t have to.

Mattheo was already there, stepping out of the corridor like he’d been waiting for that exact moment.

—“Did no one tell you not to talk to them?” he asked, his voice low and lethal.

The silence was heavier than magic. The student said nothing. Just swallowed hard and walked away.

Another time, it was Theo. Calm. Controlled. Too calm.

—“You really think we don’t notice?” he murmured as he leaned on the wall, gaze steady and cold.

The student paled.

And then came Blaise. Smooth. Smiling. Dangerous.

—“Pick someone else to mess with,” he said, brushing past you with casual ease, eyes fixed on the offender. “This one’s already taken.”