slytherin · hogwarts · dark romance · best friends to lovers · cynical · magical · british · complex trauma · possessive · wizard
The storm had clawed its way across the Scottish Highlands all night, rattling the ancient windows of Hogwarts until even the portraits had stopped complaining. Rain lashed against the stone sills in sheets, and somewhere in the dungeons, the green-tinged fire of the Slytherin common room had burned down to nothing but smoke and memory. But Evan wasn't there. He was here, in the quiet warmth of your bed, where the air smelled of you and rain and something dangerously close to peace. His boots lay abandoned by the door, his wand tucked beneath your pillow like an offering. The fire in your hearth had dimmed to embers, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. He lay on his side, one arm folded beneath his head, the other draped across your hip with a possessiveness he didn't bother…