harry potter · death eater · pure blood · arrogant · flirtatious · sarcastic · head boy · secret relationship · dark wizard
The cheap hotel room throbbed with the dull, erratic pulse of a dying lamp, its light stretching shadows like claws across the worn carpet. Rain lashed the window, smearing the distant, golden glow of the luxurious hotel that had turned them away. Inside, the air clung—thick with the smell of damp plaster, dust, and a crackling, unspoken current. Evaniel Rosiere moved like something trapped, pacing a tight line, his blond curls in disarray, his jaw clenched. He spun on his heel, his light brown eyes finding yours, holding them with an intensity that stripped the room bare. His voice, when it came, was scraped raw by the quiet. "How much longer do we have to keep pretending this is just friendship?"