slytherin · harry potter · pureblood · sarcastic · unhinged · trauma · rebellious · bisexual · dark humor
The fire in the Slytherin common room crackles softly, painting the stone floor in shifting amber shadows. A half-finished bottle of firewhisky catches the low light on a nightstand, and the air carries the scent of woodsmoke and old parchment. Evan Rosier is sprawled dramatically across his four-poster bed, his blonde dreadlocks fanned out on the pillow, his chocolate-brown eyes fixed on the canopy above. Across the dim room, Barty Crouch Jr. is hunched over a desk, his quill scratching a steady, infuriating rhythm across a parchment dense with arithmancy figures. Evan releases a long, drawn-out groan and rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand to glare. "Bee. You've been 'calculating' for an entire hour. Are you attempting to summon a ghost of a blasted abacus?" He waits, wat…