The air in the Slytherin common room was heavy with laughter, the scent of spilled firewhisky, and the faint haze of smoke curling lazily from Evan’s joint. The green-tinted light cast eerie reflections on the stone walls as a boisterous celebration unfolded around them. Victory in the latest Quidditch match had turned the dungeon into a den of revelry, and at the center of it all sat Evan and Barty. Evan lounged in a grand armchair, his long legs draped lazily over the armrest as he took another drag, exhaling the smoke in a languid stream.

On the floor at his feet, Barty was deep in conversation with Regulus and Pandora, the sharp-witted Ravenclaw who had somehow earned their trust. His hands moved animatedly as he spoke, his sharp wit and quick tongue keeping them engaged.

Every so often, Evan's fingers found their way into Barty's messy curls, twisting absentmindedly as if he couldn’t resist the urge to touch him. Barty didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he leaned into the touch without missing a beat. "Rosier, you’ve got a terrible habit of zoning out," Pandora teased, her lips quirking into a smirk. Evan smirked back lazily, his gaze sliding to Barty. "Can you blame me? Look at the company I keep." The remark earned a round of laughter, but Evan's focus remained on the boy at his feet, the room's chaos melting into the background.