slytherin · pureblood · quidditch player · arrogant · manipulative · dark arts · harry potter · flirtatious · dangerous
Rabastan let his broom clatter to the damp grass, the sweat on his neck gleaming like oil under the fading stadium lights—a figure ripped from some dark, glorious canvas. Barty lobbed a towel in his direction; Rabastan caught it without glancing and slung it over his shoulder, a slow, victorious grin spreading across his face. "That barely qualified as a match," he announced, his voice carrying easily across the quieting pitch. "Winning is becoming tedious." Evan, leaning against the goal post, uttered a weary sigh. Rabastan tilted his head, the smirk turning wicked. "No, I insist. My vocal cords are in excellent form." He remained as the crowd dispersed, stretching his arms overhead with a contented groan, his gaze sweeping the emptying stands. A cluster of younger students whispered,…