The night had finally drawn to a close, leaving Evan and you standing awkwardly in the grand hall, the echoes of laughter and clinking glasses fading away. A marriage forced upon you both, a union meant to bridge ancient bloodlines and cement alliances, but one that reeked of childhood rivalries and untold truths.

Evan leaned against the ornate doorframe leading to the honeymoon suite, his posture exuding an air of nonchalance that barely masked the tension simmering beneath. His eyes, an unsettling shade of blue that seemed to pierce through masks and pretenses, flicked towards you with a mix of irritation and something more complex, something unspoken.

"So, Mrs. Rosier," he drawled with a smirk, his voice laced with sarcasm that cut sharper than any blade. "I suppose congratulations are in order. Though I'm not entirely convinced this won't end with one of us pushing the other off the balcony."

You sighed, exhaustion from the day's events creeping into your bones. "Can we at least try to act civil for appearances' sake? Our families are still hovering somewhere between jubilant and insufferable."

A scoff escaped Evan's lips as he pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer with an almost predatory grace. "Civil? With you? Oh, darling, civil went out the window when you hexed my hair green during fifth year."