#evn-rosier

[bloodmoon-rising]

Remus & Evan || Selcouth

@evn-rosier Date: August 28, 1978 Location: Along the Thames

S P A C E D. out...

Like seconds. He crawled along viciously SLOW, hand tickling over uneven, calcareous cement wall barricading him from simply F    A       L          L              I                N                    G

into the Thames River. His brown, laced-boots crunched pebbles, cigarette butts, and trash left behind from drunken Muggles that somehow survived in this dangerous world without magic. He found it miraculous that the whole lot of them hadn’t fallen into the river, its murky-grey a testament to the solemnity of London weather, and drowned beneath her dirty waters.

It was now that he realized he was near Diagon Alley; a woman dressed in a robe that was so clearly wizarding he could be left with no doubts stood statuesque and pretty on front of a bench. She bore her weight on the constructed wall, her dark hair whipping the side of her face as wind whooshed along the water, between the dense buildings of a city-scape.

Mechanically, her head swiveled to look towards him, her manic eyes meeting his in a tell-tale manner that she knew, she just FUCKING KNEW!!! that he watched her and her jaw opened. It opened so wide a shiver spilled over his spine. HOW DID SHE FUCKING DO THAT? A silent scream omitted from those parted lips, those eerily parted lips with teeth sharp and bone-white, her eyes rolling back so far all he could see was the creamy-color of the sclera. Remus stepped back tentatively, eyes bulging, ready to balk.

But when he blinked, her face instantly returned to normal and he fell. HE FUCKING FELL!! over a ledge on the curve, his ass landing in the street seconds after a car screeched by. He scrambled again to his feet and he bolted, hurrying in the opposite direction, breath coming in rapid fire until he paused to vomit over the wall and into the River Thames.

[madamwblack-rr-blog]

Pretenses || Evan & Walburga

Although 12 Grimmauld Place always welcomed supporters of the Cause, welcoming family usually meant another thing entirely. Walburga’s family--extended and immediate--reached far, and although there were promising young buds on the Black tree, more often than not, Walburga’s family disappointed her. 

However, Evan Rosier was an undetermined component in the family dynamics. Not directly of Walburga’s blood, Madam Black still considered him a part of the House of Black, binding him to all of her expectations. Evan, though, did not bind to his aunt’s will as other members did. Evan pushed Walburga’s advice and assistance away continuously, which infuriated and intrigued Walburga all the more. 

Since he’d joined the Death Eaters, Walburga’s opinion of Evan had risen slightly, but not enough to completely forgive him of certain sins--- mainly, the sin of refusing a proper marriage. Walburga never truly forgave, but she could overlook other transgressions, except for this. 

“My brother and sister-in-law are failing Evan,” Walburga commented to the empty drawing room. Well, the nearly empty drawing room; Kreacher coughed slightly at his mistress’s observation, too timid to voice his agreement. “I must take matters into my own hands, and speak with the boy again about a marriage.” 

Which is why she’d invited her nephew over, although she’d used the pretense of speaking about the Great Cause to lure him over. Had Walburga written to say that she’d found a potential fiancee for the Rosier lad, he’d likely burn the note in fiendfyre. 

“Kreacher, see if Master Rosier has arrived yet,” Walburga instructed, making herself comfortable on a nearby chair. “Show him in, if so.” The house elf bowed once, and then disappeared with a pop to the front door. 

@evn-rosier

[princeinmyownright-blog]

Bobbins Aplenty // Evan & Snape

Potion Emporium 

August 24, 1978

@evn-rosier

Severus emerged from the back of the shop at the sound of the bell chiming lightly in the air.  He had been counting stock in the back, and rolled his eyes to prepare for whatever customer had arrived.  Ready to drawl the normal information about finding supplies, alphabetical order, he sighed, putting a box down on the counter.  

“How may I be of assistance to you tod-- Oh, Rosier.”  A grin spread across the shopkeep’s usually sour face.  “If you had told me you were coming I would have worn something nice.”  Evan and Severus had been mates in school, and had gotten up to a slew of antics.  Evan had taken a liking to Severus for some reason, he wasn’t quite sure, and as a first year Severus had been eager to fit in with the rest of Slytherin house.  Their friendship had quickly blossomed, Severus eager to help in all of the schemes that Evan dreamed up.  He wasn’t sure, but he was sure that Evan had a large hand in Severus making it into the Death Eaters officially.  

“What brings you to the shop? I assume you’re not here for supplies.”  Evan had a talent for the dark arts, and had taught the younger wizard quite a lot in the course of their friendship.  When it came to potions, however, Severus clearly excelled.  They had always had a bit of an arrangement going, even back into their school days.  When Evan needed a potion for one of his plans, Severus was more than happy to oblige.  

Evan sauntered over to the counter, and Severus caught sight of the leather bag he was carrying.  Knowing Rosier it could be anything from the remains of his latest victim to whatever he planned to have for dinner that night.  Severus raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth still turning upward. Oh, this will be good for sure.