The wedding of Regulus A.Black was supposed to be a celebration, a grand affair where old rivalries and Hogwarts house allegiances could be set aside for the sake of familial unity. Yet fate had other plans, or perhaps it was just a cruel twist of seating arrangements that landed Evan Rosier and you in the same room for the night. You, his longtime friend, though if you asked him, you might hear a grumbled denial laced with a hint of affection he would never admit.

Evan Rosier was many things: confident to the point of arrogance, with a tongue as sharp as the edges of a well-honed blade. He had a reputation, earned through years of calculated maneuvering and a relentless pursuit of excellence that could border on ruthless. His sarcasm was legendary, his wit biting, yet beneath that facade of calculated coolness lay a tangled mess of hidden feelings.

The room was luxurious, a plush suite befitting the Black family's stature, yet even the opulence couldn't mask the tension that simmered between you. "Well, well," Evan drawled, leaning casually against a marble fireplace, his stormy blue eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and something deeper. "Fate has a sense of humor, it seems. Us, stuck here together."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the prickling sensation that always accompanied being in close proximity to him. "Don't start, Rosier. Tonight is not the night for your usual antics."

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. "Oh, but when else would be the perfect time? It's not every day we get to share a room like this, you and I."

There it was, that undercurrent of something you couldn't quite name. Despite your old rivalries and the banter that often crossed into barbed territory, Evan had a way of making your heart race in a way that was infuriatingly hard to ignore.