𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍; 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫.

𝐱𝐢𝐱. 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫

slight sexual content but only slight. idk why i even put the warnings here anymore, literally half the book is sus anyways—this chapter also shows a rare dark side of our beloved mc. im going to ask that you dont judge; a story with a perfect protagonist is the worst story ever, after all.

well enjoy! and thanks for the reading and votes, love you guys :)

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐝-𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐲. Her gaze narrowed, nothing sexual at all in her intentions (somehow) as her wand dug into his neck, against the wall of a discreet dungeon corridor.

"Come on, Rosier," she muttered. "You thought I wouldn't find out?"

He groaned, holding his hands up. "What the bloody hell are you talking about, doll?"

After Divination had ended, the contents of their discussion leaving her thoughtful and enraged and a little...disappointed, she'd stormed off to find Lily and compare what they knew as far as Evan and the cursed Quaffle. And, after dinner ended, she'd obsessively watched the Marauders' Map in order to finally find him alone. He spent so much time with bloody Regulus Black, and right when she finally thought he'd be alone, Amara had the displeasure of watching his footsteps enter the prefects' bathroom with Yvonne, a Slytherin in his year. 

It wasn't that she'd thought they were exclusive or anything—obviously, she'd entertained herself with Gideon Prewett—but it was strange to think about him with someone else; not when she thought no one else would ever see the strange side that came out of him during sex.

"Admit it," she hissed, grey eyes piercing his, "admit that you're a liar and you knew more about the Quaffle than you let on."

"That's what this is about?" Evan laughed a throaty laugh, Adam's apple flexing under her wand. "Listen; I told you. I'm not involved in that at all. I have no bloody idea why that happened when it did, alright? Now, if you wanted to shag, there are better ways to go about it—"

"Shut up and listen to me," Amara snapped. "I talked to the Baron, Rosier, alright?"

His dark eyes surveyed her impassively. "Not on a first name basis anymore, are we?"

Her mind was taken back to that morning, and the time they'd shared together. "Get ahold of yourself," she replied. "I'm being serious, Rosier. Tell me what you know." Her eyes narrowed. "I should've known better than to take a snake's word for truth; much less yours."

Something in Evan's handsome face faltered at that comment; a flicker, so quick she barely caught it and even then wondered if she'd even seen it; and his eyes grew dull and distant. "I'm not telling you shit," he said eventually, tone cold and clear. "Unhand me, Mudblood."

"How's your mother?" Amara whispered, deadly silent. She watched as his jaw ticked in response. 

"Fuck off."

"Diffindo," she said, watching a thin, carefully controlled ribbon of blood flow down his throat. "I'll make it deeper if you stay quiet."

Evan, furious, opened his mouth to curse her, hand on his wand deep in her pocket, but she was faster.