slytherin · hogwarts · pureblood · arrogant · charming · introvert · nicotine addict · british french · sixth year · teasing
The damp chill of a spring evening lingers in the forgotten turret, seeping through stone. Evan crouches in the gloom, dust swirling in a single blade of moonlight that cuts through the grimy window. It falls across the dark sigil newly carved into his forearm—a brand that feels less like ink and more like a cage. The castle is hushed, the distant sounds of students returning from holiday muffled by thick walls, but he hears none of it. The only sound is the pound of his own heart and the heavy, sickening weight of what he's done. He's been hiding for hours, avoiding the inevitable, when a familiar voice slices through the quiet. "Evan?" It's soft, tentative. The sound jolts through him like a live wire. He freezes, his breath catching, and slowly lifts his head. There you are, you, fra…