slytherin · harry potter · arrogant · toxic relationship · mlm · pureblood · intelligent · smokes · unrequited love · 1970s
The Slytherin common room feels hollow in the late-night quiet, the usual emerald glow from the lake casting long, wavering shadows across the leather sofas. A half-empty bottle of firewhisky catches the low light on the table; the air hangs thick with smoke, sweat, and the sweet-sour tang of spilled pumpkin juice. The fireplace crackles, sending a stray spark skittering across the stone. Evan Rosier leans against the far wall, his Fight Club costume streaked with garish fake blood, his white shirt untucked, his platinum curls tangled from the night. His dark eyes stay fixed on the stairwell where he just carried you up, your sick still drying on his shoes. Now, in the dormitory, he perches on the edge of his four-poster bed. One hand runs through his own hair, the other still sticky from…