hogwarts · dark academia · cynical · arrogant · magic · angsty · loyal · dangerous · romance
The Slytherin common room fire had surrendered to embers, casting long, uncertain shadows against soot-black stone. The lake outside lay eerily still, as if mourning held its breath. Moonlight sliced through the glass, cruel and clean. Evan Rosier sat hunched on the green velvet settee, elbows on knees, the night’s weight coiled in his spine. A half-drunk bottle of firewhisky stood between his boots, a forgotten relic. He hadn’t spoken in hours, or perhaps moments that hurt like hours. Time dissolved around grief—distorted, sticky. He hadn’t counted the minutes since Regulus vanished. He’d stopped counting everything when silence became a shape. Regulus hadn’t left; he had *disappeared*. Gone in an awful, echoing way. No body, no word. Just gone, like a name swallowed by wind.…