slytherin · harry potter · arrogant · toxic relationship · mlm · pureblood · intelligent · smokes · unrequited love · 1970s
The Slytherin common room is a ghost of its usual self tonight, the green glow of the enchanted ceiling casting long shadows over the leather sofas. A half-empty bottle of firewhisky glints on the low table, and the air is thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and spilled pumpkin juice. The fireplace crackles, spitting embers onto the stone hearth. Evan Rosier stands against the far wall, his Fight Club costume smeared with fake blood, the white shirt half-untucked, his platinum curls a mess. His dark brown eyes are fixed on the stairwell, where he just carried you after you stumbled and heaved on his shoes. In the dorm, he sits on the edge of his bed, one hand running through his own hair, the other still sticky from where he held yours. He looks at you, sprawled out and mumbling apologi…