this house is a circus;;

❤ = kissing themtrigger warning: recreational drug use, mild sensuality/smut, allusions to period typical homophobia, anxiety

“You sure you’ve done this before?” Evan asked, vaguely amused as Peter coughed his way through his hit. The usual feeling of lightness and energy that he associated with being high had begun to settle in the pit of his stomach, glowing hot like an ember warming him from the inside out, as he watched Peter take a long gulp of water from the glass bottle they’d brought with them.

His voice was rough when he spoke, but Evan sort of liked it. “It’s just strong, is all,” he said, coughing a little as he handed the spliff to Evan, who accepted it eagerly and took a long, heavy hit, letting the smoke sit in his lungs for as long as possible before exhaling. He could feel Peter’s eyes on him, on his hands, on his mouth, on his face, and he wanted to look over and catch him in the act, if only to prove to himself that it wasn’t his mind, high and unreliable, playing tricks on him.

“Greta only likes it when it’s strong, honestly,” Evan admitted, head leaning back against the brick wall of the courtyard. “Whenever I buy weed from her, I literally always have to cut it with tobacco; otherwise, I’d be out after like two hits.” His candid nature surprised them both; he could see it written plainly on Peter’s face, just as it was flashing across his own.

“You should– you should do that more often,” Peter said, hesitating at first but finishing on a note of surety. Evan arched his eyebrows upwards, looking at the other with feigned confusion. “Just like. Talk. Like a real person.” When Evan continued to stare at him, expression filled with surprise more than anything, Peter cleared his throat, reaching out for the spliff and taking a hit. “I didn’t mean– it’s just– never mind, forget I said anything.”

“You should do that more often too, y’know,” Evan countered, although there was no heat to his voice. “Say what’s on your mind, and stick to it.”

His eyes lingered on Peter’s lips as the other boy finished the spliff, flicking the butt onto the ground and stomping it out with the toe of his shoe. He’d thought about kissing the other before, and he certainly hadn’t been opposed, although the scenario in his head was purely hypothetical. However, now, unbidden, the thought of it resurfaced, and it didn’t feel so far out of the realm of possibility. The reality of his thoughts scared Evan just as much as it excited him. He was still new to this, still stretching his wings, and the prospect of it alone was enough to have him half hard in his jeans.

“Like,” Evan began, his words slow, but his voice sure, “if I…if I did this…” He leaned forwards, closing the small distance between their mouths and ghosting his lips over Peter’s, just enough to be considered a kiss but purposefully brief and light so as to tease the other boy and leave him wanting more. “If I did that…what would you say?” he asked quietly, staring unflinchingly at Peter.

Peter, for his part, looked a little more than shell-shocked, eyes wide and lips parted. “I’d say that–”

“Wormtail!” James’ voice shocked both of them, and they sprang apart, creating space between them when, before, there had been virtually none, both of their cheeks flushing bright as James came up to them. “I thought you said you were going to be in the library after Transfiguration.”

“I was, but, I–” Peter stuttered for a moment, and Evan watched him flounder as his stoned, flustered brain tried to come up with something to say. Quickly and effortlessly, Evan picked up where he left off.

“We ran into each other in the library, I had a spliff, and he looked like he could use a few hits, so we came out here,” he shrugged, tone light and casual. James looked between the two of them, and for a split second, it looked like he was about to question the story, but then he shrugged, adjusting his bag on his shoulder as Evan got to his feet. “I just realized that I left my Arithmancy notes behind – if you’ll excuse me.”

He dipped his head politely at both Gryffindors before leaving the courtyard as fast as he could without breaking the casual facade he’d just created. However, as soon as he was around the corner and out of sight, he slumped down against the wall, heart racing and hands shaking. He knew what happened to boys who were caught kissing other boys, had seen it happen first hand more than once, and the fear of that sent bile rising up in his throat.

Maybe it was the weed making him paranoid and exacerbating whatever fears he normally had because he highly doubted that James Potter, defender of all things just, would have reacted the way he’d seen his housemates react on countless occasions, but still, the uncomfortable familiarity of the situation was too much for him to handle in the moment.

Once he’d managed to compose himself, his heart beating regularly instead of feeling as though it was about to jump out of his chest and his breathing slow and even, he headed up to the owlery, a small, crumpled note held tightly in his palm. He attached it to Iphigenia and sent her on her way before he could second guess himself.

回 = patching a woundtrigger warnings: blood, injuries, alcohol

Evan sat in front of the large fireplace in the Rosier estate, a thick, leather bound book resting in his lap, a half empty glass of wine placed to his right. Although he’d been home for the three months since graduation at this point, it still felt strange and foreign, even though it was his childhood home. Since he was eleven, he hadn’t spent more than a three weeks in the place, and spending such a long time here had just emphasized how different it was to when he was younger.

However, he was trying to make the best of it. He had open his copy of The Odyssey, had gone down to the wine cellar and grabbed the best vintage he could find, and had settled himself into the comfiest chair in the entire property for a nice, quiet night in.

“Evan?” came a faint, familiar voice, and the sound of it, combined with the sight of the other boy, one hand pressed to his abdomen as blood spilled thickly between his fingers, nearly made Evan upend his drink.

He got to his feet and rushed forwards to Rabastan in one fluid motion, an arm slinging easily around the other’s waist to support him. He guided the other boy to the couch, watching pain wax and wane over his face as he lay back onto the plush cushions.

“What happened?” Evan said, ripping through Rabastan’s shirt easily and using it as gauze to staunch the bleeding. “I didn’t realize there was a mission tonight. Was Dolohov with you? Why didn’t he watch your back? I should have come–”

“It was a bar fight,” Rabastan managed, giving Evan a pointed look. “Some bloke got pissed that his girlfriend seemed to like me more than she liked him, so…” He trailed off, the ghost of his quintessential smirk flitting across his face. “Now, are you going to help me or keep blathering on like an idiot?”

Evan’s cheeks reddened slightly, and instead of responding, he drew the cloth away from the wound to examine it. A piece of glass – presumably from a bottle of some sort – was lodged deep between two of Rabastan’s ribs, and Evan just sighed. It was nothing he couldn’t sort out, but still. He was a little buzzed from the wine, and he didn’t want to accidentally replace Rabastan’s ribs with Jell-O with one wrong flick of his wand.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Evan said as he set to work. “So, if you feel yourself losing consciousness, that’s perfectly normal.” He could already tell that Rabastan was starting to feel the effects of the blood loss, his eyes getting heavier and heavier with each moment that passed. Evan paused for a moment, wand drawn and hovering over the wound, as he stared at the other boy, eyebrows cinched together in slight confusion. “Why did you come here? You could have gone to anyone else, and they would have fixed you up…”

“I wanted it to be you,” Rabastan said just before his eyes fluttered shut and his breathing evened out, his body going limp as he lost consciousness.

✘ = hugging them

The last day of term was always tough, but this one even more so. It was Evan’s last year at Hogwarts, and this was his last day. The end of an era, the finishing of a chapter in is life, a day that marked the start of something new; Evan should have been excited, but all he could do was feel a slow, creeping sort of dread in the pit of his stomach. But he put on a smile because he had to and pretended that he was okay with the change. What choice did he really have?

Hogsmeade Station was packed to bursting, and the throng quickly separated Evan from his Slyherin companions, buffeting him this way and that. He didn’t mind, as he knew he would catch up with them on the train, but right now, he had the opportunity to say goodbye to those who he would be losing forever once he left King’s Cross, not by choice but by force. But it was better that way; he wanted them to remember him for the person he was, not the inevitable mark that would scar his forearm.

Within the crowd, Evan caught sight of a familiar shock of dark hair and the signature glasses of one James Potter. He hadn’t thought about saying goodbye to the other boy, hadn’t thought he would need to, but just the sight of him made Evan’s heart ache with something close to nostalgia. It was in that moment that he realized he would miss James, and that surprised him. He hadn’t realized how deep his friendship with the other boy ran, hadn’t realized that it mattered at all, but it did.

Exhaling deeply, Evan cut through the crowd with graceful precision, making his way towards James. The other boy hadn’t noticed him yet, talking animatedly to one of his friends, and Evan almost turned back; doing this, saying goodbye, it would only make letting go that much more difficult. But he had always been a glutton for punishment, and it seemed that that habit wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“James,” he said, once he was in range of the other. The Gryffindor turned, and there was a hint of surprise on his features, but it was a good sort of surprised, like when finding an extra handful of galleons in the pocket of your robes when you least expect it.

“Rosier.” The girl James had been speaking to glanced between the two of them, clearly confused, before making some excuse and disappearing back into the crowd. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” Evan said with as much nonchalance as he could muster. He didn’t want this to be a big moment, weighted with the decisions about their respective futures that would set them on opposing paths. He just wanted to say farewell to a friend. “You’re– alright, I suppose. For a Gryffindor.” A hint of amusement edged his words, and he offered a small smile.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” James shrugged, lips quirking upwards. “Take care of yourself, yeah? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” The words were casual and offhand, but the irony of them stung like a slap.

“Of course,” Evan said, dipping his head courteously. “Have a good summer.”

He made to extend his hand and it there, but that felt unsatisfactory – perfunctory even. This was the last time he and James could simply be; after today, the reality of the war would set in, and Evan knew that would change everything. This wasn’t a “goodbye, see you next year” sort of farewell; this was permanent.

Before he could second-guess himself, Evan stepped forwards, arms wrapping around James’ shoulders. The hug was brief, a seemingly casual gesture, but to Evan, it felt like closure. It felt like a proper goodbye, like they both knew the significance of it and they both knew what it meant. This was the end, and that was okay.

Evan smiled as they withdrew, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He cleared his throat, raking a hand through his hair. “Well, I should go.”

“Yeah,” James said with a small hum of assent. However, as Evan turned to leave, he heard the other’s voice call after him, “Oh, and Rosier? Do me a favor, and don’t get yourself killed.”

    “ in the right situation, perhaps. i prefer control at all times, even extending to controlling others. any misstep could prove disastrous, “ the female offers softly, even as fingers smooth the front of her dress robes. “ you’ve already consumed tonight, then? “

“I haven’t, actually.” Evan shrugs, head tilting. “I needed-- clarity. A fresh mind. So, at the moment, I’m taking a break from anything that will alter my mental state or cloud my intellectual faculties.” He smiles ruefully, staring down at his feet. “Although, it’s proving a little more difficult than I would have anticipated.”

           There was something in his voice that Fabian couldn’t make out. He should have been accustomed to indifference, it ran rampant around the castle, but Evan seemed to have his own special brand of it. Either way, he didn’t let it get under his skin. Fab needed to remain himself. He couldn’t change with the winds like the others seemed too. He would be as he always was, kind, welcoming and understanding. Except of course for that short time after the Halloween ball. That was a low point, he wasn’t afraid to admit that.

“Sounds delightful,” he replied with a smile. “So I’ve been thinking, can we talk? Somewhere else I mean.”

            They could hide among the crowds of the party but too many of their classmates were lurking about. He would take chances with Evan, he wasn’t quite ready to trust the lot of them.

Evan had done his best to push Fabian from his mind for most of his break. He had to focus on his future and on his family -- both of which he’d neglected while he was chasing fanciful notions like love and honor -- and everything else had to be ignored. However, he had hardly done a good job of it, his thoughts drifting whenever he least expected it.

But Fabian deserved the truth, and he deserved Evan’s honesty. So, he nodded swiftly, hands shoving deep into the pockets of his dress robes, before starting a path away from the center of the crowd.

“So,” he said, once they were far enough away from the party that they could speak freely, dress shoes clicking briskly against the cobblestone pavement. “What’s on your mind?” The question was sincere -- but a little weary --  and he looked at Fabian with curious, inquisitive eyes.

Peter shrugged, but offered a smile of gratitude regardless. It would have been a shame to have this quality alcohol go to waste, particularly when he was in such need of it.

    “ I hate these sort of parties, ” Peter offered in way of an explanation - not that Evan had requested one, or that the one he’d given was particularly honest. If he’d come with any of his mates it would be an altogether different affair, but he’d yet to find any of them in the crowd, and Evan’s was the first familiar face below the age of thirty that he’d come across.

“Then why are you here?” Evan asked, eyebrows raised. He truly wasn’t trying to be rude; he was simply curious. The other boy wasn’t quite as outspoken as his friends, and thus, it was harder to figure him out. But Evan had always liked a challenge.

Or he did, he reminded himself crossly, if he was still in the business of becoming friends with people without taking the impending war into consideration.

“Not to be blunt, but you really didn’t have to come,” he said as he tapped out a cigarette before offering one to the other boy.

         “Color me surprised.” He remarks, each letter dripping off a tongue of acid. Rabastan, in stale misery, remembers the night still that his company was rejected. And how sweet did it burn, painted his face scarlet as his insides ignited. “Why are you speaking to me?” Stale words, resigned gestures, and a heartbeat that never quite stays in tempo as he drinks more.

Rabastan’s coldness was to be expected, but it hurts Evan nonetheless. However, he retains his composure, keeping his features devoid of emotion. Instead, he shrugs. “Everyone else here would make for lousy company.” He refuses to beg for Rabastan’s forgiveness; yes, he shouldn’t have been so senseless, but he behaved with good reason, and if Rabastan couldn’t understand that, at least to some degree, then they were in more trouble than Evan had originally anticipated. “How was your break?” he asks, looking to the other expectantly.

Send me one pro and one con you could see with having sex with my character.

“Don’t. You’ll regret it.”

Send me one pro and one con you could see with having sex with my character.

              “I’d do anything you wanted me to. All you have to do is ask.”

Send me one pro and one con you could see with having sex with my character.

            “The compliments are gracious, but I’d hardly classify myself as forbidden, so if you’d like to test your theory, you know where to find me.”

      “ people drink and celebrate, and forget the tokens of decent manners. and while i suppose it is indeed necessary to let loose upon occasion, it only – i do not do well where people are without control. come along, dearest. “

"Losing control can be liberating,” Evan says diplomatically as they drift from the crowd. “However, I think I’ve had my share for now.”

Gently swirling the drinks in hand, Glenda frowned at the two glasses. Having been handed two at the same time - and in the rush she’d taken both - she’d immediately turned and offered it to the person standing next to her. It wasn’t until after Rosier had rejected the offer that Glenda even recognized him.

“That’s a shame,” she decided on saying after a moment. “But, if you change your mind.”

                                                    “How’s your holiday been then?”

God, how he hated her.

Evan usually prided himself in cordiality until there was a proven need for behaving otherwise, but now, with Glenda, he couldn’t apply that. He hated the fact that she was extending him kindness when she had no reason to do so, and he hated that he physically could not reciprocate, even if he wanted to.

“It was fine,” he said shortly. “Nothing worth remarking on to the likes of you.” The words felt foreign and heavy on his tongue, and he almost couldn’t believe he was uttering them. He wouldn’t have hesitated to say them at the start of the year, and he wants so desperately to be back in that state of mind.