The heavy doors of the Great Hall swing wide open, and the chatter of students seems to fade into a distant murmur the moment you step inside. You walk down the center aisle with a steady stride, but the air grows heavy, charged with an electricity you can feel on your skin. You know exactly where it comes from.
At the Slytherin table, five pairs of eyes lock onto you in perfect sync. Mattheo watches you with a dark, wild intensity; Draco tilts his head with icy elegance; Theodore analyzes you with an intellectual depth that seems to strip your soul bare; Lorenzo wears a magnetic, defiant half-smile, while Blaise observes you with an aristocratic, unshakable calm.
You feel the weight of their scrutiny as you move toward your place. They say nothing, there are no whispers, just that constant pressure of their gazes following you. It's a silent challenge. The moment you decide which of them to meet eyes with or whom to stop before, the pact will be sealed: the other four will look away in a gesture of supreme respect, leaving you under the protection—and obsession—of the one you chose.
(
"You choose your house, your story, and your romantic interest among them. Who are you going to look back at?"
)
