Whispers in the Shadows || Slytherin Boys

a step too close

The library always was silent except for the soft rustling of pages and the occasional tap of quills on parchment. My study session with Avery and Kai had become increasingly futile. My thoughts were scattered, flipping between my work and the gnawing unease creeping up from the depths of my subconscious. Draco, Mattheo, and the others had infiltrated my mind, their presence becoming something I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried. It really was pathetic.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, the wooden surface hard against my back. My hands fidgeted with the corner of my parchment, and I could feel Avery’s eyes on me. She was chatting with Kai, her voice a steady, familiar rhythm in the background. But I wasn’t really listening.

I needed to clear my head. Something to ground me. I glanced around the library, my gaze settling on the far end of the shelves - a darker, quieter section where I knew I could be alone. Without a word, I stood up, pushing my chair back quietly, and made my way toward the rows of ancient tomes.

The air seemed to grow colder the farther I ventured into the shadowy corner of the library. This section was dimly lit, with tall, towering shelves that stretched so high the tops were lost in darkness. The loneliness of the space enveloped me, but it felt like the right place to gather my thoughts. I always loved this section of the library.

As I traced my fingers along the spines of old, worn books, my mind wandered back to the slytherin boys. The dream from last night still hovered in the back of my mind, unsettling and arousing in ways I didn’t fully understand. The way Mattheo had touched me, the way Draco’s voice had whispered against my skin - it was impossible to forget. The sensation still lingered, almost like a ghost, a constant presence at the edge of my consciousness. I was definitely going crazy.

I shook my head, trying to focus. This wasn’t real. None of it had been real. But why couldn’t I let it go?

I reached for a book on ancient magical theory, hoping it would provide the distraction I desperately needed, when I heard the faintest sound - a shuffle of footsteps behind me. My heart stuttered. Slowly, I turned, my breath catching in my throat.

Theodore Nott stood at the end of the aisle, leaning casually against the bookshelf, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was fixed on me, sharp and assessing. I hadn’t even heard him approach. He looked every bit the intimidating figure I’d imagined from all the stories I’d heard. His dark hair framed his pale face, and his sharp features were accentuated by the shadows that clung to him like a second skin.

For a moment, I froze, my fingers gripping the spine of the book tightly. I had heard about him - about what happened to the last girl who crossed him. It wasn’t something anyone talked about openly, but the rumors were impossible to ignore. Impossible to forget. This was the first time I had actually been alone with him, and a chill ran down my spine.

"Looking for something?" Theodore’s voice was low, smooth, and it sent a ripple of unease through me. He didn’t move from his spot, just watched me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

I swallowed, trying to calm the sudden spike of nerves. "Just…studying," I replied, my voice steady enough, though my heart was pounding in my chest.

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Is that so?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to say more. My mind raced, searching for a way to end the conversation and retreat to the safety of my friends. But Theodore didn’t seem to be in any rush to leave. He uncrossed his arms, taking a slow step closer, his presence dominating the narrow aisle.

"You’re Catalina, right?" he asked, though it wasn’t really a question. He knew who I was. Of course he did. They all did.

I nodded again, unable to tear my gaze away from him. There was something about the way he looked at me, like he could see right through me, peeling away my layers of anxiety and fear.