𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑘

                            “ you are shaking fists & trembling teeth. I know: you did                             not mean to be cruel. that does not mean you were kind ”

( froy gutierrez, twenty-three, cis man ) hey, was that EVAN ROSIER passing by? I didn’t think the PUREBLOOD was a student, but I’d recognize HIM anywhere. rumor has it they’re working as a PROFESSIONAL QUIDDITCH PLAYER, so who knows what they’re doing here. they always reminded me of THE MASK by MATT MAESON. I’ve also heard they’ve been recruited by THE KNIGHTS OF WALPURGIS. but despite all that I think they’re still INTUITIVE, ADAPTABLE & UNDERSTATED and LISTLESS, UNPREDICTABLE & REPRESSED. and the SLYTHERIN alum still reminds me of welcoming the first bite of frost on un-gloved fingers; handwritten entries in heavy journals burned once the page is full; a cool mist rolling in off the sea (there are things you’d rather be obscured); hurried eyes that never focus, not even on your own reflection; messy hair, from the rush of wind and bored fingers both; lush-dark forests calling you to hide in their depths; the clenched-fist, broken-glass feeling that this can’t be all there is. well, then, I guess some things never change.   ( zoe, 23, cst, she/her )

CONTENT WARNINGS:   parental death, parental manipulation + a generally bad relationship with a parent, punching things as a form of self harm. ADDITIONAL MATERIALS:   evan’s playlist,  stats page,  &  pinterest board

Getting off campus was not as common an occurrence as Maeve would have liked it to be. It wasn’t that she disliked the school or her job, but going from the same lecture halls to the same office to the same library to the same house over and over again was a recipe for stress and boredom for her. While she may like routine for the most part sometimes she just needed a change of scenery, and she couldn’t think of a better way to get that than meeting up with an old friend. Making her way through Hogsmeade, Mae took a breath of fresh air before she was entering the Three Broomsticks. She was quick to find an empty table towards the back and settled herself into one of the seats, ordering herself a drink to sip at while she waited for Evan to arrive. But she was never one to waste time so while she was waiting she pulled out one of her lecture books, flipping it open to skim over some notes. Letting herself get absorbed into the reading, she didn’t immediately notice someone approach the table until she heard a throat clear near her. Maeve glanced up, her face quickly brightening with a smile at the sight of Evan standing there. “Evan, you made it! Sorry, you weren’t standing there long, were you?” Tucking her book away, she stood to greet him properly as she shook her head slightly at herself for her inattentiveness. “It’s good to see you. I’m surprised you managed to fit me in with all the quidditch practices you must have.”  

                        “ of course I made it, “   evan said,  tossing a wide smile maeve’s way.   he slid into the seat across from her,  easy as anything now that he knew she’d,  like,  noticed him,  and he wouldn’t be startling her half to death just by pulling out a chair.   “ grabbing a bite and a drink at the three broomsticks?   wouldn’t miss it for anything.  oh,  and,  I guess you’re here too, “   he said,  grin slanting all  sideways  &  teasing  before he settled back in his seat. 

“ I wasn’t standing there long,  really. “   the easy assurance rolled off his tongue as quickly as the teasing had;   he could switch tone in seconds,  especially around someone like maeve who’d known him long enough to know that.   “ just didn’t want to tear you from that   …   really terrifying looking book.   really,  maeve, “   he said,  back to playacting with a put - upon sigh.   “ the only reason I put up with the grind of practices during the quidditch season is so I never have to be faced with huge books like that again. “ 

            “   you  think  that  guy’s  okay   ?   like   …   mentally   ?  ”   she  questioned  whoever  stood  by  her  side   ,   the  witch  assuming  their  company  meant  they  were  also  confused  by  what  was  happening   .   standing  beneath  a  tree  was  a  man  with  a  picket  sign   .   the  sign   ,   while  beautifully  crafted   ,   held  a  very  amusing  message  :   caitlin  is  a  trollop   .    he  wasn’t  waving  it  around  or  ranting  in  anger   .   he  simply  stood  there   ,   like  an  artist  trying  to  make  a  point   .   “  weird  word  choice   .   not  sure  anyone  says  trollop  anymore  .   ”

             evan cocked his head,   pivoting enough on the balls of his feet to see the guy in question   —   the sign in question.   he had good handwriting,  evan thought.   better than evan’s own,  and he spent about as much time writing as he did flying.   “ is that   …   hell,  it looks like calligraphy,  doesn’t it?   shit.   caitlin’s gotta be a trollop to but that much work into the sign. “   he grinned,   crooked  &  wide  in equal measures,  and turned back over his shoulder to shrug at daisy.   “ I think he’s okay,  mentally.   I’m thinking either he lost a bet or this caitlin,  like,  broke his heart or something.  broke a buddy’s heart.   anyway,  did something shitty enough to warrant being called a trollop in a public display. “ 

“   …   like,  I know it’s literally not my job,  but that’s why I don’t think that all those fancy feints are really where it’s at.  they get popular enough that all the teams start bein’ able to spot them,  and   —  “   

                  evan talked a lot;   didn’t even need audience participation every time he opened his mouth.   the companionship of someone to bounce his thoughts off of was enough,  mostly,  which was why he liked that his teammates only told him to shut up when things were getting really dire.   he’d thought they were fine now,  walking around,  grabbing dinner.   but he realized halfway through shitting on some new drills the assistant coach was trying that he was talking to an empty space.   evan whirled on his feet,  looking wildly until he spotted his teammated.         he’d been ditched.  to chat up someone understandably hot,  but still,  ditched. 

“ un - fucking - believable, “   evan said,   turning back and walking a few paces in his original direction,  until he neared someone else.  “ can you believe this? “   he asked them,  jerking a thumb back to gesture at his teammate and their new conversational partner.   “ abandoned.  what has the world come to. “ 

        " ah,  fuck.  dorcas is smarter than me.  like,  obviously.  

                   hot,  but pretty comparable to me,  eh?   I feel like my dad would’ve wanted me to be more like her than I am   — but I like,  my dad would’ve liked me to be like anybody,  if they were smarter.   

and I like dorcas fine enough,  anyway.   more people should be smarter than me. “

" shit, I'm not good at anything else.   if I got   –   knock on fucking wood   –   injured tomorrow I’d just be a fucking socialite,  man.   professional rich guy.              I’d have to play a little nicer with the guys at witch weekly then,  though.  “ 

“ you look nice, “   evan said to dorcas,   then let himself have a little internal cringe over it.   that was probably the most generic thing you could say to a person you ran into at a party;   evan knew,  since he’d probably said some variation on it about thirty times over now.   his dad was the one who was all buddies with travers   —   evan honestly didn’t get why he had to be the one making nice at the mixer for the minister’s college,   not his father.   his small - talk battery was running dangerously low.   he shook his head;   knew from years of experience that it’d let some of his hair fall over his eyes in a look of boyish sheepishness.   hopefully it’d be enough to distract dorcas from the fact that he’d paid her the same compliment he’d paid the wealthy pureblood donor the west library was named after.   “ sorry.   I mean,  you do,  of course,  but that’s kind of a lame thing to say,  yeah? “ 

fuck.  shit.  motherfucking shit,  and   …   evan was fucked.   in his head,  only,  probably.   he was a lake frozen over in the winter,  a pot of something boiling with the lid slapped on,  all that other poetic bullshit.   evan felt like he was fucked,  but he wasn’t,  actually,  and his face betrayed none of the ‘ I’m fucked ‘  feeling besides.   but,  still.   he was fucked.   he told himself he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen edie,  and that was true in the sense that he’d long made himself stop wondering why there’d ever been a last time he saw edie.   it still felt unceremonious that he’d run into her now,  at some party for some college at his father’s insistence that the rosier presence was necessary.   he didn’t know why he’d ever stopped preparing to run into her.   “ hey, “   he said,   reaching out a steadying hand for her,  and second guessing himself before his skin made contact with hers.   his voice sounded flatter than he liked.   evan tried to inject some lightness into it,   but he wasn’t sure he all - the - way succeeded.   “ I’m sorry for almost bowling you over,  there.   feel try to try and knock me over as payback. “ 

evan was grateful to make his escape from the middle of the room and seek refuge at one of the spindly little tables lining travers hall.   he could small talk with the best of them,   but drifting towards one of the mostly - empty tables,  all laden with people’s discarded plates of finger - food crumbs,  their almost - finished glasses,  was a relief.   then he noticed the student sitting at the table he’d chosen and figured,  shit,  the reprieve hadn’t even started before it was cut short.   “ hey, “   he said,   giving goldie a small smile.   he hadn’t had time enough to refuel for one of the big,  shining grins,  but he’d be dead and buried before he stopped being able to turn on a little charm.   “ is there a reason this place is throwing a party like    …   for young people,   with the worst fuckin’ music imaginable playing? “ 

“ we’ve got a bit of a mixed crowd here, “   evan said to daisy,   figuring she didn’t need him to go through the whole song & dance of a formal greeting.   hi,  how are you,  it’s been ages,   you’re looking well,  how are the kids   —   like,  it just didn’t feel right going through all that with her.   for one thing, she didn’t have any kids to ask after,  unless she was a lot better at keeping secrets than he thought.   for another,  he’d just gone through all of that with some wizened professor of magical foreign relations who his dad had told him to make nice with.   felt kinda rude to treat daisy like she was just another wizened professor of magical foreign relations.   “ so like,  kick me in the shins if you want better company.   but know that I’m chaining myself to your side until you kick me in the shins about it. “ 

evan was   —   surprised probably wasn’t the most accurate word.   caught off guard felt more,  like,  honest.   evan was caught off guard to see his cousin’s familiar countenance at the little party being thrown by hogwarts college before the start of their school year.   he knew she wasn’t a student here   ( like, fucking obviously.   he’d never call andromeda old but she was older than him … )   but then,  he wasn’t either and he was here.   for all he knew,  there was some student wandering around,   catching sight of his face and feeling caught off guard themselves.   but,  still.   he made his way towards her before he had the time to think about whether he should.   he was here at his dad’s request;   but sebastian rosier likely wouldn’t even care if he heard evan had run into his cousin.   “ andy? “   evan asked on his approach,  a wide grin stretching over his face.   “ of all the gin joints,  am I right? “ 

❛    for  the  first  gathering  of  the  year  ,  i’m  terribly  disappointed  .   ❜  penelope  says  with  a  sigh  .  it’s  not  all  bad  ,  there’s  even  a  few  shimmering  highlights  of  the  place  -  but  none  so  grand  as  to  make  up  for  the  disappointments  .  pureblooded  witch  cares  for  aesthetics  far  more  than  anything  else  .  

❛    i  mean  sure  ,  someone  died  and  all  but  ,    ❜  queue  an  eye  roll  .  ❛    they  still  could  have  put  more  effort  in  .    ❜

         evan glanced around the hall at penelope’s    …   well,  he guessed it wasn’t under her direction,  really,  but he wouldn’t have given half a shit about taking in the décor if she hadn’t sighed her way through dissing it.                        he didn’t think it was that bad.   but then,  he wasn’t a student here,  so he figured he had no way of knowing this was just,  like,  how it looked on any other day during the school year.   maybe the lights were standard.   that’d be kinda fun.   if he didn’t totally love his life outside of academia,  he might’ve mourned the opportunity to spend hungover mornings in some fairy - lighted hall.   

penelope avery didn’t need to hear all that.   and she didn’t need to hear his opinion on her second statement.   so evan pivoted,  half - turned to face her head on,   charm dialed up to eleven,  and said,   “ how would you have dolled up the place,  then,  avery? “ 

Loose  stones  and  dirt  crunched  under  her  feet  as  she  walked  aimlessly  through  the  cobblestoned  alleyways  of  Diagon  Alley.

Dorcas  found  herself  here,  feeling  nostalgic  of  the  past,  yearning  for  when  her  world  was  simpler.  Missing  the  excitement  of  buying  dumb  pranks  and  little  candies  to  make  it  seem  she  was  ill  to  get  out  of  classes  .  She  breathed  in  the  lingering  smell  of  sweet  shoppes  and  the  excited  talking  of  strangers  kept  her  mind  away  from  truly  being  present  as  she  walked.  Dorcas  wasn’t  sure  what  she  was  looking  for  or  why  she  was  in  there  but  it  was  cleansing  to  be  in  alone  in  a  crowded  place.

She  took  a  weary  look  down  an  empty  alley  and  decided  to  turn  down.  The  light  of  the  sunset  getting  dimmer  and  dimmer  with  every  foot.

Her  heart  stopped  when  she  heard  the  sound  of  someone  else’s  footsteps  behind  her  as  she  continued  past  the  stone  walls  of  empty  businesses.  Stopping  in  her  tracks,  Dorcas  pulled  her  wand  from  her  coat–  moving  slowly  as  to  not  alert  the  person  behind  her  what  her  intentions  were.

With  a  quick  pivot,  Dorcas  readied  her  wand  and  pointed  it  at  the  person  she  saw  with  a  deadly  glare.  “Petrific–,”  she  started  to  shout  before  stopping  mid-curse  when  she  made  eye  contact,  “What  the  hell  do  you  think  you’re  doing!?”

         “ woah! “   evan said,   holding his empty hands out in front of him,   the picture perfect poster boy for,  don’t point your wand at me!   it seemed the sort of thing he could just say with,  like,  body language;   no real need to go out and fuckin’ ask someone not to point their wand at him when he could just do his level best to show off empty hands and an especially guileless expression.                           after all,  he had it on good authority he did guileless well. 

once he saw dorcas’ eyes lose some of their fervor in exchange for recognition,  he slowly moved his hands up to his ears,   taking off the little headphones connected to the walkman one of his muggleborn teammates had gifted him after catching him staring at hers a little covetously.   he liked it,  really liked it,  but as he rested them around his neck he thought maybe it was time to admit it cut down the reaction time of his wand-hand a bit too much.                “ what does it look like I think I’m doing? “   he asked,  cocking his head at meadowes’ younger sister who,  he had to admit,  he’d always thought he was cool with.   like,  maybe not;   evan certainly tried not to go flinging hexes at the people he was cool with.   but maybe she rolled differently,  and that was cool   —   like,  fucking noted,  evan thought.    

        “  evan  rosier   .   ”   he  stated  casually   ,   a  wicked  smile  slowly  forming  as  he  looked  the  man  up  and  down   .   hmm   .   he  thought  he  would  be  taller    . “    you  don’t  know  this   ,   mate   ,   but  you  won  me  a  lot  of  money  last  week   .   c’mon  take  a  seat   ,   i  got  your  next  one  .   ”    he  motioned  for  the  bartender   ,   raising  two  fingers  to  indicate  a  refill  for  him   ,   and  a  new  one  for  evan   .   “  hope  you  like  bourbon          but  to  answer  your  question   …   this  is  a  memorial  .   so  if  you’re  looking  to  celebrate   ,   I’m  not  sure  you’ll  get  much  from  the  people  here  .  ”

        caradoc  knew  very  little  about  the  man  in  question   .   he  knew  he  liked  his  class  back  when  he  was  a  student   ,   but  he  was  never  one  of  those  gung-ho  fucks  who  hung  out  with  his  professors  outside  of  class   .   if  anything   ,   he  was  there  for  information   .   they  hadn’t  given  him  the  case   (  something  about  his  reckless  behavior  and  excessive  work  hours  warranting  a  much  needed  vacation   )   ,   but  he  was  curious  nonetheless   .   he  loved  himself  a  good  mystery   .  

        “   it’s  open  invitation  by  the  way   .   so  welcome  to  the  convention  .   ”

       evan blinked;   he’d encountered stranger opening lines,  he supposed.   though,  weirdly,  it reminded him of his father.   evan was pretty sure he’d made his dad a lot of money last week,  too,   though  ( hopefully )  for far different reasons.   quidditch bets could get so particular   —   he wondered if he’d really made this guy his money,   or if it’d just been the magpies.   he hoped it was him.   obviously,   wasn’t going to turn down someone buying him a drink,  but it felt better when he’d earned it.   “ happy to have been of service,  then, “   he said,  a crooked half-smile forming over his lips.   “ though,  not so happy that I’m gonna turn down a bourbon. “   

       he sat where directed,  swept his gaze over the other man,                                              taking in the way he carried himself.                     evan could’ve looked out over the three broomsticks   —   tried to match up the word memorial with the crowd.   part of him wanted to ask   ‘ who died? ‘   but he couldn’t see the answer being all that interesting,  when caradoc didn’t seem all that torn up. 

             “ I love an open - invite memorial, “   evan said,  finally glancing away from caradoc and towards the gathering at large.   fuck,  he really needed to start paying attention to the prophet he got owled before his cat snuck away to claw up and chew on.   he hated to deprive blue of her fun,  but he didn’t want to feel so fully out of the loop.   “ shit, “   he continued.   “ well,  I’ve been to worse conventions, I guess.  “

          𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛: travers hall, hogwarts college            𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒: august 31, 1980

evan was,  like,  of the mind that if his dad really wanted there to be a rosier presence at the stupid fucking college  ‘ mixer, ’   he should’ve gone;  his dad clocked out at six in the evening at the absolute latest these days,  and evan had had a match earlier that night,  plus spent some requisite time with some teammates after that.                    like,  he was tired;   still fully capable of mingling with old classmates who were clearly more booksmart than he’d ever been,  still fully capable of charming the pants off of the professors and college staff walking around with tight smiles. 

                                   didn’t mean he wanted to.  

penelope avery looked the same as she always did,  when they crossed paths at events far ritzier than the school could pull off.   she seemed   …   well,  women did hate when he called them  ‘ safe bets ‘   but that’s what she was,  wasn’t she?   he could go up to her and talk and smile and feel assured he wouldn’t have to put too much work in.                      “ hey there,  avery, “   he said,   paying her a crooked,  devilish smile.   “ tell me,  since I wasn’t smart enough to land myself here   —   are all your college parties as boring as this one? “