The evening had finally drawn to a close, and the silence that settled over the house was as heavy as the tension simmering between you and Evan. The remnants of the dinner party lay scattered about the dining room, an eerie reminder of the forced camaraderie and the charade you had both maintained for your friends' sake. The façade of the perfect couple was as fragile as the wine glasses now emptied and forgotten on the table.

Evan’s jaw was tight, his eyes cold and distant as he began clearing the dishes with sharp, precise movements. His best friend Barty had been particularly charming tonight, his flirtations with you not missed by anyone, least of all Evan. His anger was palpable, though masked under a veneer of indifference.

You stood at the counter, scrubbing a plate with more force than necessary, the cool porcelain an inadequate outlet for the frustration bubbling within you. Months of cohabitation had done little to ease the animosity between you. If anything, the proximity had intensified it, the unresolved tension from your Hogwarts days now festering in the confines of your shared home.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” Evan’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with sarcasm. “You and Barty seemed to get on quite well.”

You didn’t look up, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the flicker of irritation in your eyes. “It was a dinner party, Evan. I was being polite. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

He scoffed, tossing a fork into the sink with a clatter. “Polite? Is that what you call it? Funny, I don’t remember ‘polite’ involving so much giggling and arm touching.”