"Ah fine year," the Slytherin remarked with a quick nod to the selection of his dorm mate, however frowning. "Who said you get the first gulp?" Mock offence was playing in his voice, but Evan slathered it on so thick he even started to laugh himself as he snatched the bottle off Theo. "I really should, though I fear I'm too lazy to be a businessman like that," he mused as he raised the bottle to his lips, just before taking a large drink out of it, closing his eyes pleased at the burning in his throat.

Theo reached over to the trunk and picked out a bottle from the selection. He opened it and began to drink. “You should, I’m sure the younger students would pay you loads to get it for them.”

At the more or less familiar voice Evan stopped nearly dead in his tracks, looking openly confused at Remus. "It certainly does not, but what on earth has you thinking somebody like me would drink with a halfblood?"

"Are you up for new round of feeling drunk then?" Remus looked at the other boy and laughed. "Being drunk doesn’t always seem too bad lately."

tw: scars

By now Evan felt like he was going up in flames, this was terrible, he saw her entire self image cascade down like a broken mirror. At least five scars on his body seemed to portrude most on his skin. One on his shoulder, one on his ribs, one on his ankle, another curled from the palm of his hand to his wrist and the last one was a soft curve at the small of his back. Each and every single one for a lie he told. A lie that had not been a necessary one. All of them tingled and tore like animals on their own seams. The one on his hands was easiest to reach, the fingernails of his other hand scraped over them slowly but harshly. Would she remember this habit? Whenever he did something that had once earned him such punishment from his mother he tended to scratch at those remnants.

To fight the urge of his own shoulders to slump Evan rather squared them instead, breathing ccalmly through his nose. The blood in his veins ran cold. "I will," he breathed, unable to raise his voice to more, "but she did not seem too miserable about it. Maybe it was just a passing thought. Nothing to be too concerned about." He should not care. He should not care. I am not s u p p o s e d to care. I am not d e s t i n e d to care.

It was hard to explain how painful it felt to be told that you had let down someone like Thetis Rosier, when you had once been in at least the first five pages of her good book. Not once did it ever occur to Ariadne that perhaps the male stood opposite her was lying, for all that mattered was that the brunette had messed up, and perhaps burnt bridges with a woman who coud’ve quite easily pushed Ariadne further into the classier depths of their society. The brunette could not help the way her head ducked down a little, a soft nod of her head all she could manage as Evan continued to shoot ice-cold words straight through her. “Please do.” There was no sarcasm in her voice now, no snideness or irritation, just a soft sort of innocence that reeked of desperation and a sudden need to please.

"Mostly firewhisky, though you have the privilege of choosing a brand," Evan smiled generously, and mock sweetly as the male pulled out his rumbling trunk from under the bed. At the movement the clicking and light clunking of glass could be heard and revealed a fine selection of all kinds of liquors. "I could open a fuckin' liquor store in here."

Theo flopped down onto his bed. “Definitely, what’s the strongest thing you’ve got?”

The satisfaction Evan felt at drawing such a reaction from her, especially because it had been a blatant lie, at first felt dazzlingly triumphant. But suddenly it was like the high broke right in the middle, as though he was Icarus and his wings had melted, resulting in him crashing into the sea. The satisfaction didn't feel satisfactory any longer, it was simply replaced by a warm fouly and simply rotten feeling. "She's mentioned it once in her last letter," he simply remarked, unable to let his lie falter now though, "Haven't opened her most recent one. I'll see. Maybe I'll let you know." The urge to turn on his heel and leave was overwhelming with how icy the situation had grown, but Evan's bones felt like they were made of concrete, leaving him unable to move even a hair width.

Ariadne could only tut at that, for she knew far better than to go against the word of Mrs Rosier, whether Evan was speaking the truth or not. At the further mention of Thetis, in particular in relation to herself, the brunette couldn’t help but slump forwards slightly, her feelings over his words quite clear despite her promise to herself to always remain emotionless in his company - fat chance, really. “Oh?”

"Well, seeing as not even Thetis objects on my apparently 'classless' lifestyle, I enjoy my intoxicated living, thank you very much," Evan sneered, almost rolling his eyes before he stilled, coming to muster her. "Mother has been thinking about you." His tone left no space for interpretation; Evan had hinted that his mother was overthinking her appraisal of the girl.

"You weren’t being in appropriate, you were lacking class; I hardly think a lifestyle of never-ending inebriation is something to be proud of."

"I was speaking to a general audience, not my problem if you are feeling adressed, sweets."

"Are you asking me to get intoxicated with you?”

Sometimes he thought about it. Sometimes he didn't. By now the memories felt like a favourite book or an old photograph, turned around over a million times, looking and feeling worn down when you grasp it with the fingers of your mind, and yet feeling so familiar, because it was you and your mind that carved those marks of use and reminiscence into them. The memories he had worn down until today were not only nice ones, but also some of their petty and childish fights, others however felt warm like a hug. Those he hadn't summoned in a long time, but the tingling feeling always tickled his ghost, followed his shadow and clung to its seams every time he saw her more than just in the hall.

There had always been this silent fight between the two ever since their relationship grew rocky; by now the question 'How far do I have to push?' has become an old one for Evan. Sometimes she would have the stoic patience of Diogenes, other times she'd snap like a twig, if he only dared to breathe in her presence. How much further do I have to push? Evan mused silently as his eyes were fixed calmly in his lighter, ears and skin however high alert to note every reaction from her even before she did. But the thought hadn't even fully formed in his mind when her voice cut through the air sharp as a knife; he had anticipated it already when she started to scrape the parchment. Killingly slowly his gaze moved from the silver lighter to her significantly darkened eyes. "Yes," he said simply, but clearly. "I must." The way her facade started to crack, a faint grin built up, not yet coming to a fully stretched one. Only the hint should make her fume.

Nostalgia was a funny thing, and one Ariadne rarely liked to divulge in. Could she say she was looking through rose-tinted glasses when thinking back over her friendship with Evan Rosier, though? Or was it always actually that nice, actually so free of negative remarks made towards one another or silly arguments over the pettiest of things. It wasn’t exactly a nostalgic look on things when it happened to be the truth, was it? Either way, Ariadne doubted reminiscing over the life herself and Evan had once shared would do her any good, though that certainly didn’t stop her from trying.

Must he always do this? Always continue to push when he knew all too well she was already on the brink of toppling right on over the edge? He was her own personal demon, a living breathing shadow that loomed over her shoulder and - in her eyes - prevented her from being happy, when in fact he had once been the sole cause of the more positive factors in her life. The clicking of a lighter was a repetitive sound that Ariadne in no way enjoyed, the muscle in her jaw twitching and pulsating as thoroughly polished and well kept nails scraped ever so slightly against the crisp piece of parchment that lay in the brunette’s lap. “Must you be so incessantly irritating?” And there the first crack in her composure began to show, her words no more than a furious hiss of breath as eyes - once as light as the day, and now as dark as the night - settled on the boy who Ariadne decided was the cause of all her unsolvable issues. 

"In which way was I being vulgar just now, Ariadne? Enlighten me please, because I fail to see how I was being inappropriate."

"Funny how two weeks away is all it takes to make me forget just how vulgar you actually are."

"A whole week into the new year and this is the first time I actually feel my body sobering up now. Who wants to counteract this?"

It had never, for no one, been easy to make any kind of impression on Thetis Rosier than a negative one. She viewed nearly all other beings as beneath her, saw merely a few among her ranks, and watched every movement of anybody else, but her wished to be god-born child with spite. Of course then it came as a grand surprise, when the six year old pureblooded neighbour's daughter skipped toward her tan, scarred offspring at a gathering, and she did not muster her as viciously as anybody around. Not to be confused, it wasn't compassion or sweetness in her gaze either, but something more of approval. Something more of: if, then her. So once again, it was no surprise that the flesh of her womb, always so blunt and bored by politeness and sweetness, was suddenly charming and entertaining to this girl with the flowers in her hair and their scent on her skin.

Like rain in the air, Evan could sense the tension and lack of comfort in Ariadne's body. Both feelings radiated off her. And he couldn't help, but provoke her even more, prod the angry hungry tiger even more, just to watch the pretty wildcat snap. So fidgeting with a lighter he had still not put back into his pocket he dropped it a few times, flicked it open and close, repeated that, and lit it. All in a far too annoying rhythm, that he was perfectly aware of. "Sounds much like you want me to leave," he remarked. It didn't bother him. At least not much he though, nonetheless there was this faint pang in the depth of his gut. "Too bad, that is," he added after a while of silence, "I like it here and won't leave as long as I please."

As a child, Ariadne had always prided herself on her ability to gain a certain amount of respect from Thetis Rosier, had always felt undoubtedly honoured, that this cold, hard shell of a woman had found it within herself toa pprove of the friendship Ariadne had shared with Thetis’ god of a son. To that day, it remained a firm part of what fuelled Ariadne’s pride and self-belief in herself, for if she could get someone like Thetis to partially warm to her, surely everyone else would be easy? Naivety was a fine thing, and one that Ariadne Flint had far too much of; not that she fully realised it, of course.

A silent breath Ariadne hadn’t realised she’d been holding in was released with the shifting back of Evan, her palms warm and wet against the carefully picked skirt that covered her thighs as she forced herself to remain calm, forced herself not to bite back as Evan mocked her for not using magic to solve her problem. Why she hadn’t thought of it herself she did not know, but she certainly didn’t need Evan teasing her for that very fact. Biting back a slight hiss of discontent, Ariadne once more did her best to ignore him, her head soon whipping around at his next words. “I was perfectly fine until you turned up.”

Why could they not be like a yoyo? Why couldn't Evan be like a boomerang, she threw him away and he would come back no matter what? Evan tried to be, sometimes at least. Sometimes he just wanted to stay away entirely until forever. His mother had always warned him, sure she'd approved of the girl as she was proper, polite and pretty, not to forget that she was not dumb. Ariadne may not be viciously cunning, but she is no fool, that Evan always knew as well as Thetis did. But in hindsight to their childhood, especially as they'd been growing closer to the age of finally leaving for Hogwarts, she'd warned him and beat him to remember always that he was not designed for any form of relationship. He was never supposed to mess with Ari, so maybe it had been some kind of luck that she had pushed him out of her life.

He smelled her. Could feel the faint flowery scent tickle his nose and envelop him in her cloud of sweetness. She's always smelled like flowers he remembered, as a child it had been more natural, more like a garden and meadows, now it was heavier by the perfume, but it was still her. Frowning now too Evan just rolled his eyes at the ashes and her tethering, shifting with the cigarette clasped between his lips so that he could reach for his cypress wand. "Don't make such a fuss, for god's sake you're a witch, Flint," Rolling his eyes he flicked his wand and the marks disappeared, so he moved once more -- only now it hit him how much body contact they'd had in his movements -- shifting away eventually back into his corner. "Loosen up, sweetheart or you're going to fall apart the next time you trip."

Ariadne didn’t like to think about the past anymore, didn’t like to think about the way things had used to be, or all of the things she had lost as a result of her own need for self-preservation. If she could, Ariadne remained positive that she would turn back time and never let Evan walk away, but it was too late for that now, too much had changed for her to just return to how they had once been as though nearly seven years a part did nothing to a once rock-solid relationship.

The creaking of a bench alerted Ariadne to Evan’s movement, long before his breath washed hot against her chest, wisps of hair brushing against hers in a way that left hte brunette certain that were she to move even a millimetre towards him, the pair would end up cheek-to-cheek. As the ashes dropped down against her once pristine piece of parchment Ariadne scowled, though it was the lightly embedded marks the still hot ash left behind when she attempted to brush the fine powder away that caused the brunette’s body to further still, hands threatening to shake as she slowly turned to glare at him. “I was attempting to finish an essay, though clearly I’m now going to have to start the page again now that you’ve got ash all over it!”

Sometimes when he lay awake in the early morning hours Evan started to think. He thought of all kinds of things, which colour the peonies at home had this year, which classes he would skip or not skip that day, whether he'd screw the cute Puff in the year below him despite her being a halfblood, or maybe if things between him and Ariadne would ever grow to be normal again. If they'd ever been normal. But if he thought about it for too long he'd always be in dire need of a smoke. Or six. And maybe a drink. But instead he always had to deal with a headache eventually and finally falling asleep again shortly before dawn.

If she wasn't going to relax Evan was sure she'd break off a limp like a porcelain doll once she'd move. She seemed to be so tense like her muscles were carved out of marble. Ignoring her charm that had him inhale the poisonous clouds again he had just blown out, the male leaned over what she was writing, ashes dropping silently atop the parchment. "Watcha doin' there, flower?" Cocking his head around he did his best to read her neat handwriting, trying to see the sense in it; that he was coming unusually close to her did go perfectly amiss on him.

Not once, in all the time had Ariadne been dealing with her grief and her heartache, had she stopped to consider what her pushing him away would actually do to Evan. It had never occurred to her that he would not like it, never occurred to her that he would not want to leave her be, and so the way he would sometimes grow so hostile around the brunette, would never fail to leave Ariadne feeling confused and in turn angry with him too, her naivety so large and innocence so wide that she had never quite gotten used to the idea of him caring for her like she did had him.

His laugh was quite an infuriating thing, the calmness that radiated from the male one that was almost certainly not reflected by Ariadne. No, she was as tense as she could possibly be, every hair standing on end as she tried her very best to ignore Evan’s presence, and failing miserably; after all, if Evan Rosier did not wish to be ignored, he quite simply wouldn’t be. As the smoke wafted her way, Ariadne wanted nothing more than to bat the cigarette from her hand, though instead she simply tugged out her wand and pointed it directly at the smoke, muttering "Impervius" and watching as the smoke began to waft back towards Evan, something which caused a slight twitch of her lips, as she lowered her head back to her work, all but ignoring the male who had dared to intrude on her privacy.

It would never make sense to him. Never be reasonable in his eyes why she pushed him away so vehemently after her mother had died, when it was clear, that that had been the time when she needed someone most. Oh but no, she wanted to do it alone, fine then. If she wanted to do it without him, then be it. It had taken some time for him to handle his insane anger, rather focussed on his own mess, but finally came to terms with it. Shall she still be hostile, he'd play it cool and keep an eye on her. Like a rose she'd grown thorns, but still needed to be tended.

Nearly laughing as she was yanking her belongings out beneath him, Evan just loosened up more, leaning casually in his corner as he stuck the cigarette beneath his teeth and lit it with his old and withered windproof lighter, a thing he'd once find in a pub in Wales. Taking a long drag he just grinned at her, "Have you ever known me not being rude, darling?" While he spoke the smoke came to blow out softly between the cracks between his teeth before he blew it out fully in rings.

In her eyes, everything Ariadne had done when it came to her relationship with Evan, she had done for both their benefits, and not just her own. Ever since the death of her mother, Ariadne had begun to withdraw from all of those she had once held so close to her heart. With Evan, she had desperately clung onto him for as long as she found herself able to, but with the starting of their first year at Hogwarts, came the promise that he would find others, and so she had let him go. Had begun to push and shove until he was no more than a carefully looked after fragment of her past, of a life before a fear of death and losing the poeple she loves came in so quick and fast that nothing else mattered besides keeping any and all people far from herself. Ariadne couldn’t allow herself to feel the loss of another person she loved, she couldn’t, and so she had let go of Evan so that he could never hurt her the way her own mother had. But some things were easier said than done, and Evan Rosier had a way of never letting you go, not really, and so Ariadne found herself unable to sit in his company anymore, not unless she had put up half a dozen mental walls first.

Huffing as he flopped next to her, Ariadne nearly rolled her eyes, rather forcibly yanking her things out from beneath her house-mate as she tried not to allow her irritation to show; an exceptionally hard task. “Considering the fact it would be incredibly rude to light up that.. thing next to me; yes, I do have a problem.”

Her body language spoke more for her than any word that left her mouth ever could. It made him terse slightly, annoyed him and made him feel too bitter for his liking about their past. Sure, they had not gotten along too well anymore ever since they've boarded the scarlet train the first time, but still, he had been the one to sit at her bed after she'd fallen into the lake, had been there to practise classical dancing with her and now she pretended to have never known him. Saying he was hurt would be something to upset him, he wasn't hurt or rueful or tragically in love with her, nothing of that corny cliché stuff. No, Evan Rosier was angry because he felt betrayed.

"Yes, I am, problem?" His tone was provoking and sharper than intended, but nonetheless he dropped into seat casually next to her, flicking the paper box open. You could smell death on it.

Ariadne really wasn’t in the mood for company; whether she liked the person that had dated to bother her or not, the brunette was not in the mood to sit and exchange pleasantries with someone who she most likely couldn’t care less about. Upon lifting her head and catching eyes with one Evan Rosier, Ari almost sighed inwardly, her gaze travelling over the length of him just once, taking note of the cigarette pack in his hand; a sight which made the Slytherin’s eyes narrow marginally. Her nickname on his tongue made her feel odd, his insistence that he continue to use that name despite how much they had drifted one that caused sharps burst of nostalgia to shoot through her, no matter how much Ariadne tried to ignore them. An eyebrow arched, her jaw tightening a little, and then, and only then, did the only child dare to reply.

"Are you going to smoke, if you sit here?" The answer was an obvious one, though Ariadne asked it regardless, perhaps in the hopes that he’d change his mind and put the cigarettes away.

It wasn't like Evan didn't have something to do, an essay was waiting to be written, a sample potion needed to be brewed and he still hadn't opened the letter of his mother which he'd already receive a few days ago, but nonetheless the Slytherin chose to rather walk the halls now instead of coming after his duties. So now that he was walking through the fourth floor by now, looking for a place to just sit down and have the first smoke of the day; already fumbling out the cigarette pack out of his pocket he found a place. However the alcove was not deserted, but occupied by a very familiar face. And for once he was relatively alone with her.

"You could, if you moved over, Ari."

Ariadne sat curled up in an alcove in a corridor on the fourth floor, head ducked down as she scribbled away on a piece of paper, finishing off an essay for a class she had that afternoon. The common room had been far too crowded, the library filled with first years whose excitement over being at Hogwarts was finally starting to die down, and so she found herself searching for the emptiest spot, hence her current position. So of course, you can only imagine her displeasure when a shadow loomed overhead, eliciting a sigh from the seventh year as she slowly lifted her head.

"Can I help you?"

"Living in that muggle village for so long must've brainwashed you pretty terribly, my dearest cousin, in the wizarding world m'love, I am of age. And therefore very much allowed to drink," Evan laughed, "as though that would've ever stopped me." Her laughter was absolutely contageous and had therefore quickly caught onto Evan again. Sure, she sometimes looked out for him a lot more than even his mother did, but with her being this way, like a teenage girl, he loved her even more. This was the cousin he liked best, young and carefree. Once the bartender got him his scotch he downed it in one go, ordering another one straight away. He still couldn't stop grinning, this was beautiful, he felt so honoured. Feeling as though he was about to burst with bliss. "I don't know, I didn't even think you'd think of me first off, that you'd choose your father straight away," he was gesturing vaguely with his hands. "Of course, of course."

"Evan Rosier, you are not legal to drink! You are only seventeen!” Narcissa shot him an all too pointed look, arms folding across her chest as she attempted to look serious, before breaking out into a large grin, unable to be mad or serious around her little cousin; he had a habit of turning her into a giggling teenager, and it would never fail to make Narcissa smile. When the bartender came over with Evan’s drink, the blonde slipped into a much more regal version of herself, voice polite and detached from herself as she glanced up at man. “Can I get a glass of wine, please?” Practically fluttering her eyelashes, she waited till the man had gone before turning back to Evan, a delicate blush soon gracing her cheeks. “Well, I mean, yes… Who else could I ask, if not you?” Ducking her head down slightly, Narcissa could only beam, finding herself one step short of leaping across the table to embrace her cousin. “Really? I’m so pleased to hear that..”