S.N.O.G copied thread

Aamon hovered just outside the Regulus dormitory, the first year's fingers curled nervously around the hem of his button-down shirt. The muffled chatter and occasional clang of metal from within sent a creeping unease up his spine. Aamon shouldn’t be here. He knew that. He had avoided most of his dormmates since the other day when the toilets overflowed and he had ended up ankle-deep in toilet water with half the house pointing fingers at him. And yet…

He swallowed hard and pressed his back against the cool stone wall of the corridor. The S.N.O.G. meeting. A ridiculous name for what he suspected would be an even more ridiculous night. He wasn’t an idiot—he knew what this was, what it really was. Some upperclassman playing ringleader to a bunch of first-years who were still too green to know better, leading them into some harebrained scheme under the guise of ‘helping them survive Slytherin.’ Aamon wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t naive. He’d been in Slytherin long enough to know when he was being played.

And yet, he was here.

Maybe it was morbid curiosity, maybe it was something else—a hunger, a gnawing need to stop being the one left behind, to stop being the weak link in every conversation, every duel, every scuffle in the dungeons. Aamon was tired of being underestimated. Tired of the looks people gave him—the ones that said he doesn’t belong here. The ones that pitied him. He hated that feeling, the sense of diminishment that came from the gaze of his peers.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe evenly. No more running.

Steeling himself, he pushed the door open, stepping inside just in time to catch Matthew’s words, his voice smooth and laced with mischief.

"Hey Captain, excited for the first official S.N.O.G. meeting? I have a feeling it's going to be a memorable night!"

Aamon hesitated, his gaze flickering to Matthew’s wand, cherrywood twirling idly between his fingers, and then to Colin. He recognized the undertones, the currents of manipulation rippling beneath the surface. It’s all a joke to them.

He wet his lips, his voice quieter but firm as he finally spoke. “Memorable for who?”

He was tired of being on the outside looking in. Tired of being the weeping first-year, the easy scapegoat for every disaster that befell the house.

If they were going to laugh, if they were going to play games, then fine. But Aamon Athanatos was done being the punchline. The timid boy who had once shrunk into the shadows, too nervous to speak up, was still there—his bones were still wired for flight, his stomach still twisted when eyes lingered too long. But fear had its limits, and Aamon had spent too long allowing it to dictate his place in this house.

No more.

He had a plan.

AEIOUSA𝔭rat strode into the chamber, his clandestine smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the assembly of the fellow Slytherin students. The air had a strange scent of anticipation and faint tints of mischief. In his inner sanctum, he had mused over the evening's event—the S.N.O.G. meeting— quite a ludicrous acronym for an even more ludicrous premise. What was even more absurd was the notion that they, the shrewd and crafty bunch of all, needed guidance in matters of love and friendship. Quite a laughable assumption.

The idea of witnessing all this sweet drama , the potential blunders and embarrassments, tugged him towards the event. He knew the orchestrator of this soiree had grandiose visions of orchestrating a masterful evening of enlightenment, but Prat was not so easily swayed. He saw through the facade to the entertaining chaos that likely lay beneath.

He was also aware of the weird tension between Colin and Matt, the tension between them palpable in the enclosed chambers of Regulus dorms. Whether it was very passionate crush or the cold embrace of deep-seated spite, he couldn't quite pinpoint it. It was a curious dynamic for sure, one that he thought would add quite a layer of intrigue to the evening's already very absurd premise. But Prat knew better than to poke either of them about their feelings; some battles were best left unfought.

With a mental shrug previously in their dorms, he had decided to keep his eyes peeled for their eventual outcome, yet his tongue remained still. After all, meddling in others' affairs was rarely a wise move, specially so among the Slytherin. He had no desire to be caught in the crossfire of whatever volatile emotions brewed between the two of those.

The boy felt a thrill at the prospect of the impending shenanigans, knowing full well that the evening's proceedings would likely disintegrate into hilarity. After all, this was the result of his own vote, and if the meeting served no other purpose, it would at least provide an evening's worth of diversion.

When he entered he spotted Matt twirling his wand with a casual finesse, the cherry wood, seemingly signaling his readiness for casting should the situation demand it. Prat however was content to watch the spectacle unfold, his sharp mind already conjuring a multitude of potential outcomes and mishaps, each more entertaining than the last. He knew the caliber of the clownish concoctions this group could brew up, and if tonight's entertainment failed to materialize organically, he was more than willing to nudge it along. The S.N.O.G. meeting was probably a farce, and Prat intended to enjoy every minute of it, even if it meant enduring the awkwardness and the inevitable cringe. After all, it was all in good fun.

"Hey Captain, excited for the first official S.N.O.G. meeting? I have a feeling it's going to be a memorable night!"
“Memorable for who?”

"Hi Matt, Indeed, this shall be a night to remember, for all " Prat said with a knowing smirk, tossing the words into the conversational cauldron between Matt and Aamon. He reached into his pocket and produced a small bag of candies, holding them out towards Matt and Aamon. "Here, something to start the event". He knew beneath the veneer of excitement and trepidation, they were all just as skeptical about the S.N.O.G. meeting as he was.

He pondered the various ways this meeting could be going off-course, he wished to be a part of it all the while keeping his own hands clean of the impending debacle. After all, the beauty of chaos was in its unpredictability, and who better to appreciate the art of unraveling social constructs than these dungeon crawlers. He popped a candy into his mouth, the sweetness almost a bliss. This S.N.O.G. meeting would be a feast for the soul.

Date: February 1st 2025

Before Prat could even have a second to answer Matthew found himself questioned by a rather peculiar student who had to have been a first year because there wasn't a chance he wouldn't have noticed him the prior year. No this behemoth of a boy stood just shy of Prat himself and dressed in a similar state of perfection, what was it with purebloods and feeling the need to dress like tories at any given opportunity. Suddenly very glad to have been sitting crossed legged on his bed the comparative gnome Matthew found himself staring at the mysterious student noting their rather unusual characteristics while Prat offered the pair some sweets.

Swotty outfit aside the boy had a rather unusual disposition, clearly well groomed it seemed the boys hair was only beginning to show signs of an unruly nature but nothing in comparison to the mop of curls that graced his own head. Voice primmed and proper through no doubt extensive early schooling it contradicted Matthew's own broad Glaswegian accent only furthering their differences. Though none of that drew his attention quite as thoroughly as his eyes that seemingly had some kind of heterochromia variant, partially colouring his left iris green. It was unclear why the boy gave him a gnarled feeling in his stomach, perhaps simply because despite being a year below him he was far more put together than Matthew ever would be or maybe as per usual it was the air of aristocracy purebloods all held but before he could even introduce himself Matthew found himself wary of the child.

"Thanks Prat, that reminds me I should set up the sweet station before more people arrive, we wouldn't want anyone to go hungry with such important wisdom to depart." Mustering all the friendliness he could with his voice he smiled in that perfectly pleasant way he had used as a mask for years during the worst of his bullying. Dad always said that you can't control other's actions but you can control how you react to them, while his father would no doubt be scandalised by his misuse of such sage fatherly advice Matthew was quite happy to use it to his advantage. Jumping off the bed he reached into his satchel retrieving a large bag of sweets. Everything from pepper imps to acid pops, caramels to jelly slugs there would be no lack of treats for the festivities and in the centre of it all lay a large cauldron cake with a poorly drawn French flag on top.

Moving through the room he felt completely overshadowed by the two looming giants but realising he still hadn't answered the boys question and feeling the need to shake his prying eyes off him he said, "I should hope it will be memorable for everyone after all Colin is notorious for his advice"- Not even trying to hide the sarcasm from his voice his smile took on the signature devilish grin he was so fond of before approaching the boy -"I can't say we've had the pleasure of meeting, I'm Matthew Campbell what great mote of inspiration brought you here tonight?" Curiosity killed the cat they say, but in the same breath they also claim them to have nine lives so he found the question harmless, well that and the fact that as last he checked he wasn't a cat. However, standing so close and feeling the slight insecurity of a younger boy literally towering over him he couldn't help but feel small in the room and wonder if his plan was a good idea after all.

Slightly diminished from his earlier vigour he felt the shift begin to happen in his brain when the voices would get too loud and he would spiral into a train of overthinking. He needed a solution and fast, no wonder he wasn't placed in Gryffindor one little falter and he lost all courage entirely. Except that was exactly the brainstorm he needed, liquid courage. Matthew had stored away a few conjured flasks of cider from the bauble event for a rainy day and given the storm he had brewing over his actions it felt like the perfect moment. Once the younger snake had introduced himself Matthew's eyes would flutter with mischief highlighting the warm brown pools with brighter golden flecks as he made his way to the back of his bed and retrieving 7 flasks he said with a nefarious giggle, "Oh and I have a feeling that these will make things a little more interesting. At the very least we may need them to get through what Colin has to say!"

With the preparations now made all they had to do was wait for more people to arrive and the guest of honour or, more accurately, dishonour himself.

SETTING INFORMATION
- Taking place in the Dormitory of Regulus Black the general room has been kept the same with queen-size fourposter beds typically adorned with a magnitude of fluffy pillows and throws in shades of glorious Slytherin green. These items have now instead been laid on the floor in a kind of forum making a large soft floor area of cushions and blankets so everyone can comfortably sit.

- A collection of mahogany nightstands with cherry inlets has been pulled together to act as a snack table, where you can find a whole heap of snacks (feel free to roleplay your own) specifically; Mince Pies, Cupcakes, Chocoballs, Pumpkin Pasties, Ginger Newts, Pepper Imps, Chocolate Bars, Chocolate Rochers, Liquorice Wands, Jelly-Slugs, Acid Pops, Sherbet Lemons, Toothflossing Stringmints and Sticky Caramels. Along with a large cauldron cake. Paired with a selection of juices, virgin butterbeer and the 9 vials of aforementioned cider. Feel free to help yourself to this selection.

- Other than this there is a large banner that says S.N.O.G and a sign on the door that says Gentlemen Only that can be vandalised or destroyed.

Mentioning: @Prat Pass & @Aamon Athanatos Stats: sta • 6 | eva • 8 | str • 1 | wis • 9 | arc • 9 | acc • 9

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Modded Action: None Free Action: Setting up the snack station

Aamon watched Prat’s smooth entrance with quiet scrutiny, his fingers resting idly against his sleeves, though the tension in his posture betrayed his nerves. This whole setup—this meeting, this farce—reeked of manufactured chaos. And in Slytherin, chaos was never just for fun. Someone always benefited. Someone always walked away looking like a fool. Aamon had spent his first months at Hogwarts being that fool, and he had no intention of playing that role tonight.

His eyes flicked to the bag of candies Prat so casually offered, the practiced ease of his generosity setting off quiet alarms in Aamon’s mind. No gift in this house came without strings. It wasn’t paranoia. It was experience.

He took one anyway. He was not going to put it in his mouth, that was when it always got you. He would keep it in his hand, a strange little treasure that he would pass on, a cost-free incentive.

“Memorable,” he echoed, rolling the word on his tongue as he examined the candy in his palm, fingers tightening around it before slipping it into his pocket instead of his mouth. “I’m sure it will be.” He met Prat’s smirk with a careful, neutral expression—one he should have perfected through sheer necessity in the Athanatos household. His brothers were without mercy, and while he was rarely accosted by either of them in part due to the staff and the shear size of the estate, he understood even if he had not mastered the craft. His visage would often break, 'but not this time' he lied to himself.

Aamon had a plan, but it required patience. The players were settling into their roles, the energy of the room shifting, tension humming beneath the surface like an unspoken spell waiting to be cast.

Matthew would run off, intent on adding sweets to the night's festivities. Aamon's eyes focused on the acid pops. Well now he thought to himself as a devious plan had begun to formulate. Those were a choice... He would approach the horde of saccharine treasures, no intention of consumption but rather collection. He just needed to find something hard now. He eyes wandered about the room as he grabbed a handful of acid lollies.

Aamon could already see the currents of the night forming—Colin, the alleged orchestrator of chaos, guiding the meeting with mischief-laced charm; Matt, sharp and coiled, waiting for an opening, something personal brewing beneath his smirk; and Prat, floating just above it all, never quite taking sides but always ensuring he was in the right place at the right time.

And then there was Aamon.

The overlooked piece. The one that would simply watch, react, stumble into whatever ridiculous scheme had been plotted tonight.

Not tonight.

"I should hope it will be memorable for everyone after all Colin is notorious for his advice" the older boy alleged. "I can't say we've had the pleasure of meeting, I'm Matthew Campbell what great mote of inspiration brought you here tonight?"

His mind attempted to file away the name. Was it a name he knew? His memory sifted through the various honored houses his father would prattle on about over evening meals, well the few he was present for. He would realize quickly that he did not know the name, which was somewhat unexpected. His eyes widened slightly, but his lips would not betray his thoughts - how did a muggle end up in Slytherin? Well, as close to one as he had ever known. Aamon came from a pureblood family that alleged tolerance, but in truth they were no better than the rest. 'One drop was too much' according to his mother. He was not entirely sure of where his opinion on the matter stood. He had met a cute girl who was certainly more muggle than wizard and took her to the fall ball, of course it did not work out, the buffet was apparently more appealing than he was charming.

"Aamon Athanatos," Aamon would reply in introduction. An awkward hesitancy in his voice s he forced a polite smile. "I guess I am here to participate in guy-stuff," he admitted with the smoothness of storebrand toilet paper.

After Aamon gave his name, Matthew would scurry off and retrieve something. He was not entirely sure what it was or why it came with a devilish smile. Aamon had a water flask too, he knew better than to drink the water or juice served here also.

"Oh and I have a feeling that these will make things a little more interesting. At the very least we may need them to get through what Colin has to say!"

Aamon nodded approvingly. "Yeah, good thinking. You don't want to get dehydrated. You think I should get my water bottle from my dorm," the implication of fire water completely lost to the first year student. He pointed the way he came before deciding in his laziness that the few dozen feet to his dorm was too far a walk. He shrugged, could totally get it later if this takes awhile he reasoned

He leaned back slightly, exhaling, forcing his posture to relax, feigning the image of a hesitant first-year roped into the night’s nonsense. In truth, he did not have to act. The fib was the belief that it was a lie in the first place. “So,” he said, glancing between them. “What exactly is the lesson tonight?” His voice was light, almost amused—playing into their expectations, letting them think he was just along for the ride.

Open to Interaction

SNOG. Harvey huffed to himself at the thought of it. What a stupid name for an event. Especially one that was meant to prepare the younger students of Slytherin how to navigate the intricacies of wizarding society. The part-goblin had considered skipping the event altogether, especially after the fiasco that was the "rager" a few weeks prior. He had just been about to tuck himself in for the night when the commotion started, only having to evacuate the area entirely after it began to flood. That was no proper way to celebrate a school victory, but Harvey was surely too uptight to ever let loose like that. It was simply...unbecoming.

However. The fact that he would soon depart for Beauxbatons and be thrust into the international world of wizardry had left him feeling unprepared. His grandfather had taught him how to be a proper gentlemen, but his mixed heritage may have left him at a disadvantage. The tutelage under his goblin grandfather had been as strict as any of pureblood high society, yet would that translate to a strictly wizarding function? Any chance to boost his position must be explore. Not to mention another chance to rub elbows with upperclassmen that may prove to be worthy connections. Begrudgingly he had dressed himself for the evening and made his way.

The large banner above the dorm of Regulus Black marked the event and though it had claimed the dress code was casual that just wasn't something Harvey would do. He combed his hair neat, button up his shirt and straightened his tie. This was an evening for gentlemen was it not? When he entered the dorm there would be a few familiar faces, but no names attached to them yet. "Hello, gents. Harvey Barrows." The part-goblin made his presence known as he took in the scene around him. His beady little eyes saw that sweets on display. Not his cup of tea as it was the savory that was his weakness. The flask would remain untouched by his rather long fingers and although the boy was often much shorter than his peer, Harvey would stand as tall as he could. His posture serious as his eyes then feel to the cushions below. "Are we to sit on the floor then?" A ridiculous notion, but Harvey wasn't here to ruffle feathers, so he kept his tone light.

Sporting nothing more than his racing britches and a necklace, his wand strapped to his right arm, Colin strutted out of the dark corridor that led to Regulus bathrooms. He'd heard the increase in conversation volume from down the hall, where he'd been fixing up his hair. A touselled look for the evening's activities! His sensitive ears picked out Matt Campbell's voice, now familiar from work on the Headliner, as well as Aamon's. Colin wasn't yet sure what to make of Aamon. He seemed affable enough, but Colin didn't know him well yet. They'd really only properly met at the rager, and the firstie had slipped away before he could form a decent impression.

Anyway, standing knee deep in toilet water wasn't most people's idea of a good place for a chat! Even if the exploding toilet had been magically fixed! Colin had been particularly proud of how he and Mellani had bunged it up and stopped it from flooding even worse. He often wondered if there were wizards that came in from the Ministry to fix the thing properly...

Then he heard Prat's voice. The lad who had suggested this whole exercise in dorm fraternality. As he approached the arched opening into the dorm proper, the horrible scent of sugary sweets assailed his nose. Colin thought that he really should have brought some proper food. Cheese and sausages and similar. He smirked. Most boys liked sweets anyway. He'd have to sneak out later and find his way to the kitchens to ask the Elves if there was any cheese available!

The only thing was, Prat had been rather vague on the whole topic of what exactly S.N.O.G. was all about. Colin thought that was sus. Something to do with going off to Beauxbatons for Valentines or something. Something about imparting wisdom. He'd seen the notice on the bulletin board, but of course didn't bother to read it closely. He reckoned everything would be made clear soon enough!

"Oi!" Colin called out as he loped into the dorm. Greebo was curled up on his pillow, napping. Colin cast his gaze about, noting the huge S.N.O.G. banner and the sign on the door saying "Gentlemen Only". He heard Matt saying something sarcastic about his advice. Colin rolled his eyes. "If you don't like it, Campbell, you can go wait in the nursery with the wee bairns!" He greeted the others: "Ayo Aamon! Prat!"

Aamon was on about dehydration. Colin focused his gaze intently on the first year. "What exactly is the lesson tonight?” he asked Matt. Colin took in the arrangement of the cushions and pillows and blankets. And the snacks table. He'd have to see if there was anything edible over there later. It had practically been days since dinner and he was already hungry again!

Colin smirked. "Good question mate! I really hope it isn't going to be about hydration! So! Is it just us? I saw the parchment on the bulletin board, but I didn't read it. What's going on, anyway?" He looked from Prat to Matt. Prat looked as sus as usual. Matt looked positively ill. Colin had the vague feeling he didn't like Colin much. He couldn't imagine why. Apart from Finn Connor, there was really no one at Hogwarts Colin actually disliked. "Ye okay, Matt? Ye look all stiff!"

Another lad appeared. Harvey Barrows. The lad was actually wearing a neck tie. Colin blinked in wonder. It was perfectly tied. At the best of times, Colin only ever tied his around his forehead. He also looked like his mum spent hours combing out his hair. The lad asked if they were going to sit on the floor. Colin's brows knit together. Where else were they going to sit?

Colin gave Harvey a friendly thump on his shoulder. "Aye laddie! On the floor!" With a merry laugh, Colin sprawled out on the cushions. He leaned back against the bed with his legs spread out in front of him. His brilliant green eyes never rested in one place long. He took in all the details of the people and the place. He really did wonder what the real purpose of the evening was supposed to be. Some fun games, no doubt! "Too bad it's lads only! We could have played spin the bottle! Ach, that's a fun game!"

AEIOUSA𝔭rat watched as Aamon took one of the candies from the bag, his eyes flicking up to meet Prat's smirk with a guarded gaze. Prat had quite a few thoughts as he studied Aamon, noticing the subtle yet unmistakable hints of his pureblood heritage, both in appearance and behaviour. The sharpness of his features, the vibe in his stance—yes, Aamon was certainly a product of a pureblood bloodline. As Aamon's hand closed around the treat. retreating into his pocket, Prat's mind whispered, "This one is cautious."

Prat waited as Matthew's retreating form vanished, leaving him with the intriguing puzzle that was Aamon. He took a step forward, extending his hand with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Prat Pass, second year," he introduced himself with a flourish, his tone his usual confident self. As he spoke, he studied Aamon closely, Was Aamon really as naive as he seemed, or was he merely biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal his true intentions? With Matthew disappearing into the background, Prat took a moment to further his conversation with Aamon. " you might be the most absent second year looking firstie I've ever met," he quipped. Aamon's height was indeed notable, standing almost toe to toe with Prat, which was no small feat. It made Prat wonder what kind of powerhouse did they feed this one. "And you are?" he prompted gently, eager to learn the name of the lad before him.

Prat's gaze remained unflinching as Matthew returned with the flasks of cider, his mind a beginning to concoct tactics and getting second-guesses. Prat's inner voice whispered a silent warning. "Beware the temptation," it cautioned, He took a flask with feigned enthusiasm, he knew that refusing the offering could be just as suspicious as accepting it, so he plucked one from Matthew's hand with a casual grace that belied the racing thoughts beneath the surface. The flask however remained in his hand, a silent pantomime, as he waited for the right moment to spill the liquid into a hidden corner or to hand it back untouched, or perhaps even worse; throw it away . For now thought, he played along,

Prat's gaze drifted from the apple cider to the assortment of treats scattered across the table, his stomach rumbling a protest at the sight of the enchanted feast. But he knew better than to indulge; every bite and sip in this room was a potential minefield. Yet, he couldn't save himself from feeling envious as he watched the others tuck in without a care in the world.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the food, his mind cataloging the various ways each dish could be tampered with. Poison, sleeping draughts, or perhaps something more... creative. His hunger was a dull ache now, overshadowed by the paranoia of what could be done. The voices of the room grew louder now, with more students joining in, He'd decided to play the part of the gracious guest for now, even if he was more like the host as this was his own dorm. Something Matt was against during their votes. Prat surveyed the surroundings all while keeping his wits sharp and his guard up.

Soon arrived a new Kid, Harvey and began to ask questions, Prat couldn't help the mischievous thought that flitted across his mind as he watched Harvey asking around. "Oh, please," he chuckled inwardly, "don't sit on the floor, . Grab Matt by the waist and warm up with a dance until Colin arrives. Aamon and I have already had our own little dance." His eyes flicked over to Matthew, who was still busy in his own world, and then back to Aamon, whose expression remained unreadable. "Don't leave Matt waiting," Prat urged, his voice a playful tease as he nodded towards Matt, silently willing Harvey to take the bait and interact with the others

He waited, giggling on the inside while he waited for Harvey to take the bait. He'd laid the groundwork, spun the tale in his own words with such finesse that he was almost surprised it wasn't the truth. A lie spoken enough times could become someone's truth. He'd have to play it just right, not too eager, not too aloof. The apple cider remained held within his own hands, a silent gesture to his intentions regarding the night's food.

Soon more figures began to materialize from the shadows of the dungeons, their voices mingling with each other like chatter in wildfire. Prat's eyes darted between them, each new face a potential player for the duelling team. Yet, the one everyone awaited remained elusive—Colin, the man of the night who had promised them a grandiose event and otherworldly tales. 'Where was he? Did the fur boy get lost again? Perhaps he began tweaking outside the dorms and was promptly locked away?' That would certainly throw a wrench in their plans however. Prat's hand tightened around the flask, his thumb caressing the cold metal as he pondered the missing senior of the regulus dormitory. Was Colin really going to be late for an event where he played an important part? In hindsight, it was probably natural behaviour for those of the beastly kind. The chatter grew louder, the candles flickered around and still, no sign of the elusive wolf.

After a while Colin finally made his grand entrance, Prat shot him a high five filled with a "Good luck, Professor," as he joked."Colin, you sly devil,,'Don't you dare gaslight Harvey about the seating arrangement, a Dance with someone else for warm up is a must for all SNOG nights. Aamon can back me up on this.," he lied as if he believed it to be the truth. the suggestion of Aamon backing him up on the dancing... well, that was a gamble.

Date: February 1st 2025

Athanatos, of course he would have such a aristocratic, tight-arse, wonderfully poetic yet majestically entitled name. There was no doubt in the snake's mind that the venom of his dirty blood was already whirling through the giants mind and poisoning his opinion of him. Like seriously for once could a young Slytherin actually try thinking with their own mind, just once it would be a relief to not have to constantly watch his own back for knifes or 'rogue spells'. The young boy was just that, a child, but already he infuriated the life out of him. Matthew supposed in that way Athanatos made sense, the Greek personification of death come to take him out.

Deciding that the battle wasn't worth fighting had been a long struggle over the past half a year but truly ignorance could only be solved by education and while these pureblood remained in their households nothing was likely to change. Bigotry had been taught to them in youth and was now so engrained they didn't know anything else, it was sad in a screw you kind of way. Nevertheless he had procured his cider and was quite pleased with it when the boy continued to baffle going on about water. It took a second for the brain fog to clear but he couldn't help but chuckle aloud, in reality he probably could have but why spare feelings. That was the vindictive mood he had chosen so in for a penny, in for a pound.

Just as joy was beginning to sparkle in his trickster mind the grating screech of Colin arrived. Better late than never was the expression that came to mind only Matthew was really rather sure never would be preferable. Then the wolf had the audacity to tell him to wait with the bairns, god he was insufferable. Desperately trying to retain his cool he focused on the cider and took a large swig forgetting the blonde haired fool for now. Colin's time would come but there were plenty of other ideas in the meantime that could successfully distract him.

Gears beginning to turn in his head he brushed the angel off his shoulder and made way for nothing but pure devilry as he sauntered his way back up to the mammoth the beginnings of a plan brewing. The question he had asked could defer to the professor or Prat they had been the ones that asked for this stupid night to be held here in the first place so they could shelter the tedious practicalities of the evening especially now that Colin had finally arrived. Matt was satisfied enough that his traps had already been set and thus now had little else to do but stir up extra trouble. So when a perfect victim so eagerly offered themselves up it was only fair. For a second anger truly did make way for genuine fun and he could almost come to thank Aamon for that.

Just as the boy reached his target Colin's voice once again grated upon his very skin as he had the nerve to call him stiff. Surrounded by all these people who were practically dressed for a business meeting in the 70s and he was the stiff one. God Matthew's rage was practically palpable but he wouldn't let him get the better of him, not now or everything could fall apart. Digging his finger nails into his palm to slow his rapid pulse he simply glared back at Colin an expression he was becoming all too familiar with and said with strained voice, "Great McCoire just fantastic thanks for asking." Without an ounce of sincerity to the statement he couldn't care less for the boys reaction he had other ideas in mind.

While the momentary distraction of Colin made him irate it also conjured a threatening nagging in his head. Matthew couldn't place it but he was sure he had heard Aamon's name before, certainly they had never met, I mean, one isn't likely to forget a living lamppost but yet he was certain something about the name rang familiar. Perhaps he was in one of the sports teams or he had been awarded some kind of prize, or Colin had mentioned him given he knew it without introduction. Whatever it was it just added to the gnawing sensation to share his irritation like an infection. Nudging his arm slightly he wore nothing but pure innocence and summoned the well of calmness from within him wrapping up the boy in blissful peace. "Hey Aamon wasn't it? Don't worry about your water there's plenty to go around no need to be shy. You can share with me, unless that's a problem for you?" Matthew didn't need to say it out loud for the implication to read clear as day.

There wasn't a week that went by without someone taunting him about his blood status or questioning his place in Slytherin, ironic given the fact that the majority of the time he didn't even want it himself. Yet perhaps for the first time this could truly be used to his advantage. The boy was probably too young to have a definitive hatred for Matthew's kind so if he just applied the right pressure in the right spots he was sure he could get him to do it. After all no pureblood in their right mind would ever allow themselves to be shown up by a muggleborn, it would be a national disgrace. The resistance he had to force not to eye roll at his own thoughts was near life threatening but he managed to keep them narrowed on the boy all hospitable grace with condemning eyes.

Anyways, it wasn't even like it was a particularly ruthless prank. If anything Matt hoped it would simply make him bearable enough to last the evening with. Okay that was a complete fabrication he just wanted to see the boy drunk given he obviously had no idea what cider even was. At best he would be a funny drunk, at worse he would throw up, either way it would cause more chaos and more hilarity and Matt would revel in every second of it. As he waited in stalemate with the other boy eyes locked in warfare another kid entered similarly overly dressed and had the gall to remark about the seating arrangements Matthew had spent all of 30 seconds on. The gall, it seemed that more than one name would be added to his list tonight and none would escape the night unscathed.

Aamon kept his expression carefully neutral as Colin bounded into the dorm, exuding his usual careless charm. Not that he personally knew the shirtless teen with a case of bedhead. But the older boy radiated confidence—something Aamon admired, even envied, though he would never admit it aloud. Colin was loud, brash, and entirely at ease in a way Aamon could never be. Also, significantly less clothed and groomed. And yet, beneath the easy swagger, Aamon saw the restless energy, the way Colin’s eyes flickered constantly around the room, assessing. There was a sharp mind behind that reckless exterior, and that meant Aamon had to tread carefully.

Prat was already spinning his usual web, tossing out suggestions wrapped in amusement and half-truths, nudging the game forward while keeping his own hands clean. Aamon let his gaze flick toward him briefly, noting how he handled the cider water flask with deceptive ease. Not drinking, but not refusing either. Smart.

And then there was Matthew.

Aamon had felt the shift in the air the moment Matt had started speaking. He did not fully understand it but he could feel it. It was subtle, but there, a pressure building in the space between them, wrapped in the kind of casual malice that came with knowing exactly how and when to twist a knife. Not that he could see the knife but for whatever reason he felt like he could smell blood in the air just them. What a strange, unsettling premonition.

"Hey Aamon, wasn't it? Don't worry about your water, there's plenty to go around, no need to be shy. You can share with me, unless that's a problem for you?"

Aamon stilled, his fingers tightening around the candy still in his pocket.

The implication hit him immediately. The kind of taunt wrapped in hospitality, baiting him into a reaction. It wasn’t the first time someone had tested him like this, and it wouldn’t be the last. Aamon knew the game—push the pureblood, see how he reacts. It was a trap, one he might’ve walked into if he hadn’t spent his entire life navigating conversations just like this. Not that the trap was terribly effective, Matthew was in a room of purebloods. Even if Aamon was the weakest one there, Matthew was the one that was outnumbered even if he was outwitted.

He could feel Matt’s eyes on him, sharp, expectant. Waiting for a tell. Aamon forced himself to exhale, to ease the tension in his shoulders. His father had taught him that control was a weapon, that a steady hand could slice through even the sharpest words.

Aamon blinked at him, completely missing the implication at first. He glanced at the offered flask, brows furrowing slightly. Water? That was… weird. Why would he be weird about sharing water? Did Matt think he was some kind of hydration snob?

Still, something felt off. His brother’s voice echoed in his mind, firm and absolute: “You never drink anything that isn’t yours, Aamon. Ever.” It was a rule drilled into him since childhood—one he had followed without question. He had heard stories about Hogwarts, how the house elves dose the students with forgetfulness potion, how his half-brother Mathias has been dosing his long-term muggle girlfriend for years, even how sometimes a love potion, sleep concoction or perhaps something even more dangerous can be added to someone's food or water. It resulted in a youth raised on cautionary tales. He had dutifully followed this rule for his short tenure, and honestly, it had never been that hard. He wasn’t particularly interested in sharing spit with people, anyway.

So, instead of taking the flask, he simply let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, uh—yeah, no thanks,” he said casually, waving a dismissive hand. “I don’t drink other people’s water. It could be poisoned.” Yes, he said it outright. Matthew could be poisoning him, or if he were to give the incident less gravity pranking him.

A beat of silence followed.

Then, he realized exactly what he’d just said.

His face paled, then immediately flushed as he stumbled to clarify. “Not that I think you’d poison it! I mean, you could, but—” he stopped himself, groaning as he dragged a hand down his face. That was pretty insulting wasn't it. Not clever in the least even if it was honest. He wanted to crawl into the trunk and just hide. “I just—I wasn’t allowed to when I was a kid, alright? It’s a whole thing.”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he looked between Matt and the others, his brain catching up with the social disaster he’d just created. But before anyone could question it further, his eyes flicked back to the flask, suspicion creeping in as a new thought occurred to him.

“…Wait,” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes at the container. “This is water, right?”