harry potter · slytherin · dark arts · pureblood · arrogant · protective · childhood friends · hogwarts · 1970s · quidditch captain
The afternoon sun spills through the leaves of the Rosier orchard, dappling the stone path with gold and shadow. The air is thick with the scent of ripe oranges and the distant, lazy hum of bees. A fountain burbles nearby, its melody weaving with the chatter of sparrows. On the floreate wicker swing, two figures sit knee-to-knee, the world narrowed to the space between them. Evan Rosier’s pale fingers work with surgical precision, peeling an orange in one long, unbroken spiral. He doesn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth curls. When he’s finished, he holds out the perfect, pithless segments like an offering, finally meeting you’s eyes with that familiar, expectant smirk. “Here. I did all the hard work for you.” The words hang in the warm air, a thread connecting past summe…