Slytherin Artwork Novels & Stories

Lee says. I carefully sit on the side of the bed and pull down the sheets. "Fuck me. Do you see that, Lee?" I ask. She is only wearing a Hogwarts t-shirt. It's a Slytherin one with Draco Malfoy on it. "She is a big fan of bad boys." Lee laughs. "No! She is mine! She should be a fan of us, not him!" I snap at Lee furiously. "Ok, man. Lee replies, backing off. "I want to touch her. Fuck, look at her panties. They are see-through, black, sheer as fuck." I said, feeling myself getting excited.

As we walk in, an envelope falls from a brunette’s carelessly-zipped backpack and I help her pick it up before she can walk past it. “Thank you.” She beams brightly at me. I don’t bother to answer. I’m not here to make friends, and won’t engage with anyone to the extent of developing attachments. I finally walk into a wide fancy hall way, and I let my eyes roam. Beautiful paintings line the wall. Most of them are eerie. A big black wolf. A high castle surrounded by butterflies. Snakes curled around black flowers. And a dragon painting. A chilling tingle creeps up my arm, traveling to my spine as I access the dragon painting specifically. It’s…big.

SELENA'S POV My heart hammered against my ribs against the heavy silence of the study. I had been reckless, yes, but the golden deer head in Draco's study had shifted under my touch with a mechanical groan, revealing a seam in the mahogany paneling that shouldn't have existed. I’d stepped inside, expecting perhaps a safe or a hidden wall locker. Instead, I’d stumbled into a private universe of depravity and dominance. The room was vast, partitioned by invisible lines into four distinct, chilling corners... One was a command center, a massive, wall-spanning screen glowing with the pulsing tactical overlay of the city, a digital web of surveillance that made my blood run cold.

I don't think it's going to be difficult, considering that Arthur also always wakes up at 1 pm so there won't be a lot of orders. But why do I feel like he's going to ask me something weird? Crap, he better don’t do that. “Arthur, you can’t do it to a patient” I smile at him, try to convince him that I will be a bad errand type. “It’s okay, only me who knows it. Plus, I can keep a secret” he winks. “Asshole, go away!” I answer immediately. His laughter filled the room, he must be happy that he successfully teases me. What a jerk. Arthur opened the plastic bag and took out one orange from there, he slowly peeled the skin and cleaned it before handing one to me.

I could tell the person who drawn this must have a great talent. I walked to the next canvas on the other side of the wall and caressed and painting where Layla was petting a golden yellow big seven-headed cobra with adoration. Layla's emotions were shown very beautifully in the canvas. I touched the frame of the canvas and to my surprise, it slid to left and another piece of art was there behind. I realised there was a big collection of the album here and started moving them to the left side.

Bellatrix Sinclair Panic clawed at my throat, my lungs burning from deprivation. The expansive room coloured pitch-black and slowly closing in. Lifting my head and catching a glimpse of a portrait on the roof that appeared to be of 18th century that depicted bloodshed between wolves and humans. The wide mouth of a black wolf, his fangs bloody as he tore a chunk of flesh from a human. This couldn’t be considered art; it was a slaughter, and it was terrifying.

The atmosphere was suffocating, heavy with despair and hatred. In front of the gates, three powerful creatures stood out. To the right, a white Lycan with golden tips in his fur and eyes red as embers. At the center, a witch with flaming hair and shimmering purple eyes. To the left, a great Dracula, with prominent fangs and eyes as black as the night. On the ground, drawn in blood, mystical symbols formed a circle. At the center of that circle, a baby lay wrapped in a cloak adorned with enigmatic engravings. The little one cried in despair as a dagger hovered menacingly above him.

Sconces on either side provided extra illumination to the hanging, and what was depicted upon it was unmistakable. The battle at Haedral Valley. It was the only piece of décor to depict a Dragon, and this one showed quite vividly the form of Neyalha swooping low over Minotaur soldiers, spewing great gouts of flame that engulfed them. In the fore of the composition was the form of a fallen Minotaur, scorched and bloody, a sword lying beside him on the ground. Andric recognized the woven depiction of the sword he had brought.

No matter what those men did, it didn’t warrant such a horrible death. “I see you marvel at the works of my hand,” he intoned, his voice filled with glee. Strong hands rested on her shoulders and twisted her enough to stare back at the carnage. “It didn’t take long to carve out this beautiful piece out of them, mouthy.” She squirmed in his arms, hating the lilt in his voice. This man here was deranged, mindless. As if he could read her thoughts, Draco hummed. “Only someone as mindless as I am would create such beautiful art, little bird,” Draco said, tracing her skin with his dagger, the very one he’d used to butcher the males.

wrote back Cynthia . "I don't think there is someone with this name in our school at present .Why don't you read it and found out ." wrote back Damon . "No not all .It's her personal diary ." wrote Cynthia . "I suspect you aren't a slytherin right ." wrote Damon with a green snake emoji . Natasha ent an wide eyes emoji . "What " Damon wrote with a laughing emoji . " I never thought you could be a potterhead ." wrote Cynthia . "Forgot? Hogwarts has slytherins too ." wrote Damon .