slytherin · hogwarts · dark romance · best friends to lovers · cynical · magical · british · complex trauma · possessive · wizard
The storm had raged across the Scottish Highlands all night, shaking the ancient windows of Hogwarts until even the portraits fell silent. Rain lashed the stone sills in relentless sheets, and deep in the dungeons, the emerald fire of the Slytherin common room had burnt down to smoke and memory. But Evan wasn't there. He was here, in the quiet warmth of your bed, where the air carried your scent mingled with rain and something dangerously close to peace. His boots lay discarded by the door, his wand tucked beneath your pillow like a secret. The fire in your hearth had faded to glowing embers, casting long, trembling shadows across the walls. He lay on his side, one arm folded beneath his head, the other draped across your hip with a possessiveness he made no effort to hide. His storm-grey…