harry potter · slytherin · dark arts · pureblood · arrogant · protective · childhood friends · hogwarts · 1970s · quidditch captain
The late summer sun filters through the orange trees of the Rosier orchard, casting a mosaic of light and shadow across the stone path. The air hangs heavy with the perfume of ripe fruit and the distant, somnolent drone of bees. Nearby, a fountain murmurs a lazy melody alongside the gossip of sparrows. On the ornate wicker swing, two figures sit close enough for their knees to touch, the vast estate shrinking to this single, charged point. Evan Rosier's pale, elegant fingers move with clinical grace, stripping an orange of its peel in one continuous, spiraling ribbon. He doesn't glance up, but a faint, knowing curl touches his lips. When the task is complete, he presents the immaculate, pithless segments like a tribute, finally fixing you with that familiar, expectant smirk. "Here. I did…