Chapter Text
Evan is in his sixth year when he shows up to Diagon Alley with a broken wand and a broken arm.
Already, he sees the way people stare at him, eyes darting like daggers. Their voices are whispers that taunt him, each one quiet and hushed as if it is trying to hide. He should be used to it by now: the confused glances, the questions in everyone's eyes, the pointed fingers low at people's waists, a bad attempt at hiding their judgment. He should be used to it, but he isn't. It still makes his blood run cold, makes his shoulders hurt from hiking them so far up to hide the way his ears turn red from embarrassment. It's all he can really do, after all; just hunch his shoulders and walk as fast as he can while he stares at the cobblestone that makes the pathways and hopes he fades into the background. Not too fast, of course. Just fast enough to pass people without having them look up at him. Just fast enough to not be noticed.
In his shirt pocket under his robe, something scratches against his chest and crawls up and around his shoulder. It scratches it’s way down to his cast and squeaks. Evan jumps, shuffling to the brick wall on the outside of Ollivander's and reaching through his robe sleeve, hands shaking until he feels soft fur.
"Not now, Squid," he hisses. The mouse squeaks again and scrambles back up his arm and settles into his shirt pocket, and Evan looks around to see if anyone saw him. They'd think he was talking to himself and then he'd be singled out again. He'd be ignored and teased and they'd trash his room like last time-
Evan breathes in. Holds. Exhales. He’s okay.
He walks into Ollivanders with his broken wand clenched in his fist. It's snapped clean in half, thanks to the asshole across the street picking it from his hands and snapping it over his knee snickering about how Evan was playing with stupid sticks at the age of sixteen. Evan supposes he deserved it- he wasn't supposed to be practicing magic out of Hogwarts anyways, not yet- but it still hurt to watch it break, to see the almost invisible dying breath of the wand, like it got darker, almost. He wasn't even practicing anything serious, just a little levitation charm on a bird's egg that had fallen out of its nest. He only used magic because he knew touching the egg might make the mother bird abandon it. But he guesses that doesn't matter much anyways.
What matters is he needs a new wand. Evan finally lifts his gaze from the floor and opens his mouth to speak the words he rehearsed in his head the entire car ride here, and then stops. All he sees is an empty counter, Mr. Ollivander nowhere in sight. Evan frowns but then takes another deep breath.
It's okay, he tells himself. He can figure out which wand he needs on his own. He looks at the two pieces in his hand and frowns. He can't remember what he had inside. Was it a strand of a Unicorn's mane, or maybe the heartstring of a dragon? Evan racks his brain for the combination, but he can't even begin to think. His hands start shaking. He's pretty sure he had willow wood for his wand. Or was it oak?
Evan groans and clenches the pieces of his wand in his fist. He's not even sure he'll be able to get another one. He just wanted to ask Mr. Ollivander if he could fix it. Maybe reuse the core, but he thinks that's near impossible. And even if his wand could be saved, Evan knows how much money it would cost to get it repaired, and he knows about the seven galleons he has in his pocket. If there's any hope for it being repaired, he’s going to spend all his money, which means he’ll have to reuse last year’s robes. It's fine, he didn't grow all that much, but he could still stop by the bank
and see if his dad left him any money for the new school year. If worst comes to worst, though, Evan would just send an owl to his mom-
Someone shoves past him, their shoulder butting right into his own, and Evan almost falls to the ground face first. Luckily (and sadly), he has experience with being shoved to the ground, so he twists himself and makes it so he lands hard on his butt, saving himself from another broken arm and preventing Squid from getting crushed in his pocket. The mouse squeaks in alarm, and Evan scrambles up to his feet, not even looking up at who shoved him. He just wills himself to go invisible.
"You can't just take up the whole fucking aisle," they say. Evan feels his stomach clench and twist.
"S-sorry," he stammers. "I was just thinking and trying to remember what I need in my wand, and I guess I could just ask Mr. Ollivander but he wasn't at the counter and I don't want to ring the bell in case he's on an important call-"
"Whatever," the other boy snaps. Evan flinches and looks up, and then freezes because he knows that face. He knows that crooked green tie and wrinkled collar, the way his black robe hangs open, barely clinging to his shoulders.
It's Connor. Connor Murphy.
"You look familiar," Connor says. Evan shakes his head and takes a step back.
"No, I-I'm nobody-"
"No, you're definitely someone. The kid who hacked up a fur ball in class two years ago? No, wait, that was-ah." Connor snaps his fingers. "You're the weird one, right? The only mistake the Sorting Hat has ever made?"
Evan winces and immediately regrets it, because just like that, his cover is blown, and he is no longer invisible.
Connor grins, all teeth and malice, and steps forward, wood creaking beneath his feet. Evan almost squeaks, but Squid does that for him, scrambling her way up his chest until her head pokes out of the neckline of his robe.
"That is you, isn't it?" Connor presses. Every word is harsh and unrelenting, invoking fear that just grows and grows.
Evan shakes his head. "The Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes. I mean- well, it even said that I belonged in Gryffindor-"
"Ha! Please." Connor leans forward, and Evan arches his back. "As if you could really be Gryffindor. You can't even speak a full sentence without stuttering-"
Behind them, someone clears their throat, and Connor slowly stands up straight again. Evan feels his soul return to his body, shoulders sagging in relief. Even Squid chirps in rejoice for not being involved in another fight.
Is it fighting if you're just someone's punching bag?
"Is that a broken wand I see, Hansen?" Mr. Ollivander asks. Evan smiles at him for drawing him out of what was most likely going to be a nasty situation, but then frowns when he looks back down at his wand.
"Yes, sir," he says. Mr. Ollivander beckons him forward, and Evan leaves Connor behind in favor of dropping his broken wand on the counter. Mr. Ollivander takes out a magnifying glass and inspects each piece, and then sighs.
"If you were hoping on recycling some of the wand, I'm afraid to say it's impossible. The core is completely severed."
Evan frowns even deeper, and all he can manage is, "Oh."
"Don't worry, having a wand isn't like having a soul mate; there are many fit for a brilliant young wizard like you!" Mr. Ollivander walks around and leaves from behind the counter, leaving Evan to follow him while he goes to a tall shelf, all of them in varying box colors with scribbled labels on dirtying tape. He grabs a few and walks back to the counter. Connor watches, his own wand held delicately in both hands, and when he meets Evan's eye, he goes back to looking at the different handle designs on the wands that are displayed.
Evan tries several wands, but none of them work all that well. It's the connection, Mr. Ollivander insists. You have to be willing to bond with another wand for it to work.
But Evan can't. That was his first wand, the one that he first felt, the first one he really knew. It had taken him eleven tries to find the perfect wand, and once he had held that one, he knew it was right before the sparks flew out of the tip. Evan looks at his broken wand and sighs. Mr. Ollivander hums in thought.
"Let me try one more," he says before leaving Evan to disappear somewhere in the back of his shop. Evan fiddles with the two pieces of his old wand. He knows the combination of it now: unicorn mane and the wood of a cherry blossom. It's also small; the shortest Ollivander makes them, 9 inches.
Your character has a little time to grow, he had said when Evan purchased his first wand. He was wrong. It's been years, and if anything, Evan feels like he's been getting smaller.
"How'd it break?"
Evan looks up. Connor is staring at him, expression strangely somber. Evan looks back down at his hands, fingers picking at his nails. "Some kid broke it. He snapped it over his knee because he thought it was a stick-"
"No, not your wand. Your arm." Connor nods at his cast and at Squid, who has decided her new resting place is Evan's hand. He strokes her fur absentmindedly.
"Oh, um, I fell off a tree."
Connor nods his head slowly. "That's... pathetic. That's the most pathetic thing I've ever heard."
Evan knows. Other people have told him enough times. Still, all he can do it stare at Connor in shock and silently thank whatever's out there when Mr. Ollivander sets down a box on the counter.
"How about this one, then?" He hands Evan the wand and immediately, Evan feels himself smile at the little tug of something he feels when he grasps the wand. It's the magic something, the feeling he gets whenever he pulls off a spell without stuttering or shaking, or kicks off on his broomstick, or feels a connection to any kind of magical thing.
It's that something that tells him that this wand will work, and it does.
One whispered Lumos and one illuminated wand-tip later and Evan is pulling out the Galleons in his pocket, putting six down on the counter and digging in for the seventh. Squid squeaks and Evan puts her on the counter in favor of reaching into his shirt pocket for the last Galleon, fingers brushing against nothing but lint and the cotton of his shirt. That's when he freezes, runs his finger along the bottom of his pocket and feels his breath catch in his throat because there is no other coin.
He thought he had seven, he swore that he counted seven. Mr. Ollivander clears his throat, and Evan forces himself to speak. He feels his words push past the wall of air stuck in his throat, squeezes his shaking hands into fists and looks down at the floor.
"Let me go to the bank, I'll- it'll just take a moment-"
Another Galleon is slapped down on the counter, the sharp sound of metal clipping wood enough to make Evan jump. He looks at the hand that put the coin down, gazes up the length of a covered arm until he's looking straight in their face. It's Connor, who looks at the pile of six coins and then slides his own over.
"You dropped this," he says. Evan hesitates and then manages to smile. He's a little surprised; he thought Connor would be the kind of person to pocket the coin rather than that the return it. Nonetheless, Evan tries to make his gratitude heard.
"Thank you," he offers, but he must be too quiet, or Connor must ignore him or not care at all because all he does is turn around and walk away.
Evan watches, stares at the back of Connor's head and at the short waves of his growing hair until he exits out the door, the bell above the door ringing. Evan doesn't even realize he's zoned out until Mr. Ollivander taps him on the shoulder and hands him the box with his wand in it. Evan takes it and opens his palm for Squid, letting her crawl up to his shoulder before he turns to leave, shouting a quick thank you over his shoulder.
And if when he leaves the shop and raises his head to see where Connor went, it's only because he wants to avoid running into him. Nothing else, nothing more, Evan thinks.
(But it is more. There is something more, something so wrongly right about what he's doing, and it scares him.)
*
Here's the thing: Evan's whole life at Hogwarts was a mistake.
He's a Muggle-born, a Mudblood, and some days that fact alone is enough to make him want to tear every strand of magic out of him. Some days it's just a little nagging feeling of not belonging amongst the other purebloods. On rare days, he feels a little proud of his uniqueness. Those days are usually when he's home from Hogwarts and talking about the castle to his mom, watching her tired eyes light up and seeing her smile and feeling her arms wrap around him as he spins lies about new friends he made and how well his magic has been doing.
Most nights, though, Evan lays awake at night staring at the ceiling of his room or his dorm and finds himself pleading to whatever's out there to just give it to someone else.
Because Evan has found that you can't have both. You can't have this wonderful gift only to have it ruined with the inability to speak right. You can't have all the magic in the world coexist with anxiety so great it chokes you just from being there.
There's just no point.
*
The train ride to Hogwarts is unbearable.
It's hard for him to even get to station 9 3/4. He's too worried about the normal people, the Muggles. He's afraid they'll see a kid running smack into a wall, and then what will he do? He pushes his small luggage cart behind the corner of station 9 and waits. He counts five other students who run into the wall with big smiles and excited yells and shouts before he himself prepares to go through. Squid is still perched on his arm, and she crawls so she's back to hiding half under his robe in the back of his neck. He reaches up to scratch her head and then takes a deep breath.
He runs. He doesn't scream, he doesn't smile, he just prays that he's running towards the right wall. Because even though he knows he is, even though he saw exactly three boys and two girls run through the same exact spot, something in him floods up to his neck and makes his palms sweat and his brain fuzz with the worries of what will happen if this isn't the right wall, what people would say if he slammed into hard brick and got knocked out, what would happen to Squid and all his textbooks and his new wand-
He breaks through the threshold and it feels like a deep gulp of air after an eternity of drowning.
It takes him less than a minute to compose himself enough to push his cart and start to load his luggage. It takes him until the train starts moving to find an empty cabin tucked in the back. It takes him half the ride to contemplate on whether or not the girl who passed by his cabin and looked in thought he was a loser for sitting alone, and it takes him about five seconds to finally realize that it shouldn't be a surprise to him if she did think that, because he's used to it.
The rest of the ride is spent with him staring out the window and fighting the urge to eat some of the snacks his mom helped him pack. He watches the scenery change while he runs his finger down Squid's back as she sleeps on his lap, her white coat only slightly dirty after he let her explore around the train for a little bit.
"You need a bath, Squid, like seriously," Evan mumbles. The door to his cabin slides open, and Evan jumps and looks up.
"Do not tell me I just walked in on you having a conversation with your rat," Jared says. Evan goes red and gulps.
"She's a mouse, not a rat. Rats are gross. Mice are small and cute. And smart," Evan adds.
Jared shivers. "Nothing that lives in the walls of houses and gets tricked and killed by stupid traps is smart. Nor is it cute." He sits across from Evan and hunches over, pressing his elbows on his knees. "Okay, let me see it."
"What?"
"Your arm! Let me see it, I'll fix it right up-" Jared holds his wand up and grabs Evan's arm and closes his eyes. "Brackium Emen-"
"No!" Evan yanks his arm away and pulls it close to his chest. "You are not using that stupid spell. What if you mess up?"
Jared rolls his eyes. "You're going to look like an idiot. What wizard would walk around with a broken arm when they can use magic to fix it?"
"I'll go to a Professor when we get there. One that won't mess it up," Evan says. "Plus, my mom said it was best to let it heal the natural way."
"Your mom isn't a wizard, Evan. She doesn't know what she's saying." Evan glares at him, and Jared frowns. "Not like she's dumb, but she doesn't understand that magic is natural."
Evan sighs. Jared is right, after all. Ravenclaws almost always are.
*
Jared walks him to the Gryffindor tower but doesn't step inside.
Evan doesn't mind. Well, he does a little, but he understands. The tension between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw is small and almost nothing compared to the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but it's still there. Evan is still surprised Jared even hangs out with him. And despite Jared's claim that it's all his parents doing, an act of pity after he couldn't even introduce himself to them after they congratulated him on a project they completed as partners in his first year, Evan lets himself believe that the smallest bit of Jared might actually think of Evan as a real friend.
But even so, that part of him must be very small- small enough to let Evan deal with the Common Room on his own.
He approaches the portrait and waits for someone else to come by and give him the password. His luggage has all been shrunk and put in his pocket, and he only holds his wand in his hand. Squid hangs out on his shoulder while he tries to think of the stupid password for the painting to reveal the door.
Eventually, the portrait swings open, and some students walk out, all of them probably unpacked and ready to go walk around the castle and meet up with old friends. They all gaze past Evan as if they're looking right through him, and Evan slips past them quickly before the portrait closes.
Once he's inside the Common Room, he gives himself a moment to take it all in. The beginning of the year is his favorite, he thinks. This is when everyone is too caught up in the joy of being back at school that they don't have time to give Evan any unwanted attention. He recognizes a few other kids in his own year, who look away right when they see him. It hurts, but it's better than being engaged in awkward conversation.
His dorm room is just like he remembers it. It's small because he doesn't have a roommate. The last ones he was assigned to wrecked his room and trashed his things while he was away during Christmas break his second year, and ever since then, he has had his own room. Not like he cares. Having roommates was nice, at first, but it only took them a month to stop talking to him and ignore him altogether.
So he sleeps alone. He doesn't have to deal with anyone's snoring except his own, and Squid can leave her cage whenever she wants without worrying about scaring another boy who doesn't see her when he gets up to get a glass of water or go to the bathroom.
Evan removes the shrunk pieces of his luggage and lays them on the floor, pulling out his wand and placing Squid on his bed.
"Engorgio," he whispers, moving his wand in the direction of his first suitcase. It swells back to its original size, and he repeats it with his other luggage until everything is relatively back to normal. He must have accidentally charmed his luggage chest a bit too big because some of his clothes are just the slightest bit bigger on him, but he supposes he can spell them back later. For now, he's exhausted.
The bed creaks when he lays down on it, but the mattress is soft, just like he wants it to be, and he sinks into it, closing his eyes and falling asleep before he can even pull up the covers.
*
He wakes up to Alana spelling him off of his bed.
He hits the ground hard, wood floor bruising his tailbone and making him gasp out in pain. She stands above him and taps her foot, adjusting her blue tie.
“Jared told me to come and get you. He's such a baby, won't even step foot in the Gryffindor tower. Like, grow up, right?” She spells him up to his feet, and then motions for his arm. “I won't mess up. You know I won't mess up, so let me fix it.”
Evan holds his broken arm close to his chest. “No, um, I want to keep it.”
Alana crosses her arms and sighs, and when Evan looks at the ground and doesn't meet her eye, she puts her wand away.
“Fine, but… if you change your mind, I’ll fix it. Come on, your nap is going to make us late.” She walks swiftly to the door and pushes it wide open, only watching and Squid scampers out the door. She looks up at Evan and asks, “Isn't there a rule about pets at the table?”
Evan shrugs and pulls on his robe and says, “It’s alright. She’ll only eat the crumbs on the floor.”
The walk through the Gryffindor Common room; it's completely deserted, couches and chairs still sagging from the weight of students who have just left no more than five minutes ago. Evan has to take big steps to keep up with Alana’s short, curt ones, and he's almost out of breath by the time they reach the Dining Hall.
“How’d you get into the Common Room, anyway?” Evan asks Alana when they walk through the doors. Squid ran off, probably crawling through the tower walls, but Evan doesn't worry. She always comes back.
Alana shrugs. “I walked in while other people were walking out. No one said anything.” She turns and starts to walk to the Ravenclaw table, and Evan raises his hand in a silent wave, but she doesn't turn around to bid him goodbye.
If Evan were brave, he'd yell a thank you all the way across the Dining Hall, jump up and wave his arms to make sure she saw him. He wouldn't care about the other Gryffindor’s, who think he's weird for only having two Ravenclaw’s as friends. He wouldn't care about the way people would stare at him and maybe laugh at his broken arm. If Evan was anything like a Gryffindor at all, he wouldn't care if he was seen. He'd bask in the attention. He'd crave more.
But Evan isn't like a Gryffindor. He isn't like any of the houses. He is dysfunctional, and he lets his hand drop and walks quickly to find a seat, squeezing between two girls who are a few years below him and give him pitiful glances. They stare at his cast and say something to him, pointing out that there's a spell to fix broken bones. Evan just nods and shrugs, and tries to stop overthinking. He can't stop remembering the stupid wave at Alana, at how she just walked away. Did she not see him? Or did she ignore him on purpose?
He knows people saw him wave and saw her ignore him. Now they probably think he's some kind of creep, or that he’s weird and has no friends. It wouldn't be wrong, to think that. Everyone will talk about him and he’s going to be even more of an outcast than he already is-
“Can I sit here?”
Evan looks up, and suddenly, he can't breathe. Zoe Murphy looks down at him and gestures at the now empty seat to his left. The two girls had moved somewhere else without him noticing. Evan looks back up at her, stares at her mustard yellow striped tie and tries to smile. Then he stops because he knows his smile is lopsided and probably makes him look bad. Then he smiles again because he figures lopsided or not, she’d probably think he was being rude if he didn't look friendly. She's a Hufflepuff, and you can't just not be nice to a Hufflepuff; it's like asking the entire school to think you're a monster.
“Um, yeah, totally! No one is sitting here, and I can move over more of you need more room- not like you'd need more room, I mean, you're small- not like that's a bad thing!” Evan babbles. He shuts his lips and presses them together to stop embarrassing himself further. God, he's such an idiot. Zoe probably thinks he's stupid and will leave to go sit somewhere else.
She stares at him for a second, and once Evan is praying to whatever’s out there to strike him down and kill him, she laughs.
(She laughs, and Evan is pretty sure he ascends to a plane of existence far beyond where any magic could take him.)
“Thank you. The Hufflepuff table was getting a little too friendly.” She points to the Hufflepuff table and sure enough, Evan just sees a clump of students hugging, leaving no personal space. “I’m claustrophobic, so I had to leave. I don't think the professors would really care, anyways. They're too caught up with the sorting hat frenzy.”
She sits and they talk, missing almost the entire naming ceremony. Evan doesn't care anyways. It's just another class of kids that will look at him weirdly and whisper about him in the Common Room. It's just another wave of misery for him. Talking to Zoe helps, and Evan won't lie, he's always admired her from afar, especially since she's a wicked Quidditch player, and he did have a little (huge) crush on her up until his fourth year, but then he realized he had no chance when she admitted to him that she had a preference for girls.
That doesn't mean she still doesn’t intimidate Evan. Zoe is beautiful, like, possibly the prettiest girl in Hogwarts, and maybe Evan is a little biased, but the fact still stands strong. Zoe is everything Evan wishes he were: confident, strong, cool, loved by everyone. Maybe that's why Evan liked her in the first place; he thought that having her and loving her would make those qualities rub off on him.
By the end of the naming ceremony, Evan is relaxed. Well, as relaxed as he can get. He’s still very nervous and is pretty sure his hands are really sweaty, but he hasn't said anything really weird. All of the first year students have been placed, and they all sit at the far end of the table, buzzing with the excitement of being placed in their House. The feast is as grand as it always is, and Evan would be lying if he said there wasn't anything he missed at Hogwarts because the food is something he definitely looks forward to every year.
His night is going wonderfully until he feels something wet start to run down the back of his neck.
He gasps and jumps up, knocking over his glass of water and making it spill all over Zoe, who yelps and jumps to get out of the way. Evan turns around and sees two older Gryffindor kids laughing, both of them tall and holding an empty glass of what must be Butter Beer above their heads.
“What’s wrong, Mudblood? Can’t use your magic with a broken arm?”
Evan frowns and looks at his seat, which is now sticky and wet with the drink they spilled on him. Zoe is being rushed away by a few Gryffindor girls that she must be friends with, all of them using napkins to dab at the wet spot on her pants and sending dirty looks over her shoulder at Evan. Evan looks down at the floor and closes his eyes. He must be feeling brave, a little after effect from talking with Zoe because he actually speaks up.
“I can use my magic just fine,” he mumbles. The taller one bends down and scoffs.
“What’s that? I can’t hear you, Hansen. Are you a mute now?”
Evan wants to scream. He wants to reel his fist back and punch him in the face, wants to shove him over and spit in his eye and scream spells and curses at him until he can’t walk anymore. Evan wants to break out of the prison he made for himself and finally just let go.
But when he tightens his fist, he realizes his hands are shaking, and then he knows that it’s pointless. He’s always going to have this weight on him, always going to have this shadow looming over his shoulder and telling him that everything he does is wrong. He has to tread carefully; he can’t get expelled. He can’t go home to his mom and disappoint her. He can’t ruin the idea she has of him, can’t tell her that the school he goes to is horrible in every way.
He just can’t do it.
So he doesn’t say anything. He stands there, staring at the floor, closing his eyes when the tall one’s friend starts to pour his drink on top of Evan’s head, too, and when they walk away cackling, he remains standing still. Silent. Waiting. Wishing. He looks at the backs of the two boys and wishes he could somehow just be invisible-
In an instant, the taller one soares, an invisible force causing him to fly forward until he slams into the castle wall. Everyone turns and stares, and when the boy turns around, Evan cringes when he sees the blood smeared on his face, all of it gushing out of his nose and dropping down his chin. He looks like a monster, a murderous monster, and that's when Evan realizes he should be running.
Because he's walking right towards him, stalking over as everyone just watches, each footstep slow and calculated and furious. He slowly wipes his sleeve of his white shirt under his nose and only smears the blood, and Evan’s eyes go wide as he puts his hands up.
“I didn't do that, I swear I didn't do that,” he insists.
But he's not listening, and Evan is frozen, stuck in one place because no matter how much he knows he didn't do it, he can't help but worry about how much worse it would be if he ran away.
So he waits for the punch or for the spell that will knock him backward or for any other amount of pain he can receive, but nothing happens. When he looks up, the boy is standing still, looking over Evan’s shoulder across the Dining Hall, and Evan follows his line of sight until he sees exactly what has shocked him into holding back.
Connor Murphy is sitting on the table, legs crossed and wand pointed with the tip almost glowing with stored power, and Evan knows that any Flipendo used with that much power behind it is gonna cause much more than just a broken nose. He stares at Evan and then looks over at the taller boy and smiles.
“You know, I rarely give compliments, but it think red is a really nice color on you,” He says. Evan knows Connor doesn't really have a crew or group of friends in Slytherin, or at least he doesn't think he does, but that gets a few cheers and laughs from his House, and he smiles even wider. “I mean, it really compliments your eyes.”
“Bastard. Why don't you walk over here and I'll break your nose, too?” The boy shouts. Evan can't remember his name. Johnson? Jackson? He doesn't suppose it matter, anyways.
“Nah, I'm good over here. I prefer to observe my fights. Plus, I don't think you can take me on.”
“You can't hurt me,” Johnson/Jackson snarls.
“Hmm,” Connor hums, tilting his head. “That's interesting because I thought I just did.”
Other Gryffindors start to protest and get up from their seats, pressing out wrinkles from their cloaks and pulling out their wands, and Evan knows this is his chance to leave. It was Connor who wanted a fight, and he's probably going to get one if one of the professors doesn't step in first. But that probably isn't going to happen, because, with all the excitement and noise from the lower years, it's hard to even see the small groups of houses that have started to stand up and talk across the room to each other, laughing insults that are more for teasing sake than actual malice.
But what Connor says cuts deep, and Evan can feel it, even though it's not directed at him. He curses and holds his wand steady, always looking past Evan, never paying him any mind, and Evan can't move until he feels something crawl across his foot. He looks down and sees Squid, sniffing at his pant leg and waiting to be picked up, so Evan bends down and grabs her, and that's enough to get his legs working.
He leaves the Dining Hall in the middle of the chaos. One of the Professors must have seen one of the kids standing up on the chairs and waving their wand around in empty threats because it's quieter when he reaches the door. He doesn't know where he's going, doesn't know how he'll make it through the night having to worry about the kids in his own House and how they can hurt him, because all he can focus on is the two boys and the stickiness on the back of his neck and in his hair.
In his head, there’s a constricting thought, a belief that suffocates him, and no matter how much he tries to deny it, no matter how much it hurts to even think about, he can't help but tell himself he doesn't belong here.
*
Evan walks to the edge of the castle grounds to the line of dark trees that condense into a forest.
He knows it's dangerous, but he also knows that as long as he stays on the very edge, the protective wards will prevent him from getting hurt. So he just stands on the edge and stares at the tall trees and watches various woodland creatures run around the forest floor.
He wishes he were home. He wishes he were normal.
He once told his mom that he'd rather be a Muggle than a wizard.
It was the summer of his Fourth year when he illegally practiced healing spells in the emptiness of his bedroom because he knew he'd need them. He had gotten three black eyes that year alone, and other bruising from kids shoving past him and even knocking him off of his broom. Granted, they were never completely on purpose. Evan has always been invisible, and most of the time, the people that hurt him were sorry. They’d heal his bruises and walk with him to the nurse and wait until the nurse treated him before they eventually left and forgot about him. Once, another Gryffindor girl started crying when she rammed into Evan on her broom and caused a giant bruise on his hip.
I didn’t see you, she had cried while trying to put a healing spell on him. She was too emotional, and they didn't hold. I swear, I didn’t even know you were there.
Hearing that made Evan’s heart hurt so much it felt like it wasn’t there at all.
When his mother asked why he would ever want that, he lied and said he just missed home. He couldn't tell her the truth after her smile fell after she dropped her fork on the floor and didn't bother to pick it up. So he lied and said that the homesickness was too much, and she smiled and promised that she’d take off work ahead of time to ensure she was home whenever he had a break.
The truth was that he didn't see the point. Evan still doesn't see the point, but at least he has a purpose to finishing school now. He’s gonna finish for his mom, so she can look at him and think she's doing something right by sending him to an amazing school that's part of a world so unique and great. So she can think that her son is special.
The first thing he did when he got back from Christmas break that year was walk to the forest and wonder how fast it would take him to die if he walked in.
Evan lied, and he's still here, still peering at the edge of the forest, but now he's fighting the bile that rises in the back of his throat and ignoring the burn of his broken arm, trying not to remember because now he knows that being closer to death doesn’t really solve anything. If anything, it just makes things worse.
*
The thing that really gets to him is the fact that even the hat didn't know where he belonged.
It's hard to believe because the Sorting Hat always knows. It knows because it sees into your heart and it can tell. It reads you as easy as an adult can read a children's book. And if that doesn't work, it takes into consideration what you believe, where you think you deserve to be.
Evan didn't know where he belonged. He looked at all the houses when he was eleven and felt a crushing feeling in his chest because he knew that no matter where he went, he would be shut out.
The Sorting Hat was placed on his head, and it was silent.
Six and a half minutes. That is how long it took. Even knows because he counted every second, cataloged every moment with shame, and through the entire length of time, the hat only asked this:
"Where do you think you belong?"
Nowhere, Evan had thought. I belong nowhere.
*
In the end, the Sorting Hat chose Gryffindor.
It told him he would grow into it. It said he just needed time to really prove he deserved those colors.
It's been six years, and Evan is still waiting for that change.
*
"Why’s your arm still broken?"
Evan turns. He's in Herbology, trying to memorize different plants and flowers and roots that he's supposed to remember from last year. Herbology is one of his favorite classes, that and Caring for Magical Creatures, a class he has been taking since it was required in his third year.
It's a peaceful room, with plants and different flowers and bushes hanging from the ceiling and sitting on the windowsill, and Evan is actually enjoying himself. It's been a week since he spent twenty minutes in the shower scrubbing the stickiness of the Butter Beer that was spilled on him out of his hair and off of his neck. One week since the realization hit him that it just keeps getting worse.
Granted, he's doing better than he was doing that night. Jared has been talking with him more, and even Alana drops by the Gryffindor Common Room sometimes, usually just to show off that she's smart enough to overhear or figure out the password when no one lets her in.
Yeah, Evan’s doing alright, but then someone asks him that question, the one that he's been asked by every student and professor he comes across, all of them wondering why he hasn't just had it spelled back together, and it's enough to make him clench his quill tightly and mess up his drawing of an interesting leaf that had fallen from one of the plants that hang from the ceiling
"Because I just want it to heal naturally," Evan mumbles.
"That's a painfully slow process," they say, and Evan finally opens his eyes and looks up, and then stops.
It's Connor, who looks down at him and taps his fingers against the table.
"I mean," Connor continues, "it looks sad, just having a plain cast like that." Evan doesn't know what to say, so he just nods, and finally, Connor takes in a deep breath and lets out what he has probably been holding in for the entire class. "I'm saying that you could have some people sign it. That's what Muggles do, right? I mean, maybe not anymore..."
Evan blinks. He hadn't even thought of that.
"No, we- I mean, they do. I don't think anyone would want to sign mine, though," he mumbles. That's the truth. No one in Gryffindor would because they see him as a let down to the name, someone they have to drag along. Dead weight. Jared wouldn't sign it because he'd just want to cast the stupid spell and then cut the plaster off, calling it a waste of time. Alana would do the same but in a nicer fashion, maybe with a few better excuses, too.
Connor must see Evan thinking, because he claps his hand against the table to grab his attention, and then takes a deep breath and says, "Well, I'll sign it."
Evan looks away. "It's okay, you don't have to-"
Connor grabs a quill out of the small jar of ink and pulls Evans broken arm towards him, freezing and being more gentle when Evan whimpers at the little pain that shoots up his arm from moving it too fast. He writes big, messy letters, careful to let the ink seep into the plaster until he spells “CONNOR” so big it takes up all the space across the entire side of Evans cast. When he’s done, Evan twists his arm to see it properly. He frowns.
"Oh… thanks,” Evan mumbles.
"Yeah." Connor puts the feather back in the ink. He doesn't smile when Evan tries to look friendly. "Well, now we can both pretend we have friends."
Evan opens his mouth to speak, but then their professor taps her wand against the desk and starts talking about the new plants they're going to learn about this year, and somewhere in the middle of her speech, Connor fades away before Evan can even say anything.
*
It's October when Jared is finally able to drag him out of his dorm to go see the Quidditch game. It's the first one of the season: Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw.
At the Quidditch Pitch, Evan gets more than a few weird looks. He tells himself it’s because of his cast and not the name written on it. It has faded a little bit, but Connor’s name is going to be on Evan’s arm until Christmas break when he can go to the doctor and get the cast taken off. Until then, he has to deal with the unwanted attention. Jared, unfortunately, does too.
“You’re making me feel like an idiot,” Jared says as they walk to the bleachers. They stop at the Gryffindor tower, and Evan looks up at the seemingly hundreds of people and starts to feel queasy. He hates crowds. And heights.
Evan turns to Jared with a smile. “You know, I'm actually gonna go back to my room. I have homework and stuff-”
“No,” Jared groans. “No, no, no. I didn't drag you out here for you to pussy out. Just find a seat with someone and watch the game.”
“But-”
“No. You're going to watch, and you know why?” Jared leans in and smirks. “Because Zoe Murphy is the keeper for Hufflepuff this year.” Evan blinks. He didn't know that. “And even if you have literally no chance with her, your weird perverted crush apparently still exists, so you're welcome,” he continues. Evan flushes red and opens his mouth to object and correct Jared and say no, he doesn't have a crush on Zoe, not anymore, but by the time he looks up again, Jared is already pushing past people to get to where all the Ravenclaw's have gathered.
I can do this, he tells himself. He knows he can. Jared dragged him out here and Zoe is waiting to get on the field and he can do this.
He sits near the bottom of the tower so he's level with the game and right near the barrier. When the Ravenclaw team flies in, everyone cheers. Even Hufflepuffs cheer and clap. It's a shame because when the Hufflepuffs gather on the field, the Ravenclaws are silent. Evan makes sure to cheer extra loud, especially when Zoe flies into position.
Her broomstick is new, and when the balls are thrown into play and the players take off, she becomes a blur in the air. Evan tries to follow her with his eyes, but quickly loses sight of her.
He expects the Ravenclaw team to gain a lead, but almost instantly, a Hufflepuff Chaser hits the Quaffle into the goalpost on the far right. There’s booing from the Ravenclaw Towers, but the cheering basically drowns it out.
Evan catches Zoe in glimpses. There’s a close call, where the Ravenclaw Seeker yells in triumph and she stops, right in front of the tower Evan is in, but it's a false call as the Snitch turns sharply and whizzes by. The score is 210-160, with Ravenclaw leading.
It's two hours in and both the Keepers have been blocking goals for a while now, redirecting the Quaffle with a hit of their broomstick, and that's when Evan hears it. Through the anxious breathing of the crowd behind him and the yells of commands from both teams on the field, it's there, close. The Snitch whistles like a bee and stops, vibrating in midair, not only five feet away from him.
Evan gasps. He can't help it. The people next to him follow his gaze and scream, pointing to the air in front of them and trying to get the attention of whatever Seeker that's on the team they're rooting for.
Evan sees Zoe stop and zero in on where everyone is yelling. He also sees the Ravenclaw Seeker do the same thing. They both jolt forward, and the Snitch disappears, flying somewhere else. Kids next to him stand up, and Evan joins them, careful not to fall over as he watches both Seekers fight, bumping up next to each other. A Bludger knocks the Ravenclaw off his broom, and it's just Zoe, flying high into the air and then diving down and Evan thinks he sees her reaching out-
She stops, and everyone holds their breath.
In her hand, the Snitch shines, and the crowd goes wild.
*
After the game, Evan goes to the bottom of the pitch.
He doesn't know why. He wants to congratulate her, but he knows he wouldn't have the words to. Watching is enough.
When he sees Zoe, surrounded by friends and her younger teammates, his chest fills with want. The captain ruffles her hair and pulls her in for a hug, and Evan thinks she starts crying. Evan smiles and turns to leave, but then Zoe looks up and stares right at him.
His heart jumps into his throat.
Behind him, someone shuffles away, and Evan turns around and sees Connor Murphy disappearing around the corner. A weird feeling settles in his stomach, and when he turns back to Zoe, it only worsens. She watches Connor leave with a falling smile and then turns back to her teammates and laughs. She's still crying, but Evan doesn't think it has to do with winning anymore.
Evan’s running away before he knows it.
He's not that athletic, and Connor is taller than him with long strides that put more distance between them than he expected, but Evan still runs after him. He should be meeting Jared back at the Ravenclaw tower- that's what they agreed on- and he should be minding his own business and walking away and leaving whatever sibling drama between Zoe and Connor alone, but somehow, he can't. This feels worse.
It's no secret to anyone that Connor and Zoe don't get along. Most people don't even know they're siblings, and when the find out, they don't believe it easily. Evan sees why. Zoe is kind and sweet, nice to everyone but stands up for herself, too, while Connor is just… Connor.
(Although, deep down, Evan has been questioning exactly what that means. Connor has saved him twice, if you include the money incident back before school even started, which goes against anything anyone has ever said about who he is.)
By the time Evan runs up to Connor, he's out of breath. He grabs his cloak and pulls him back, and Connor jumps away and shoves Evan to the ground.
“Get off of me!” He yells.
Evan winces at the feeling of anxiety itching at his skin. It curls up inside of him and makes his breathing more labored than it was before. He thinks he might throw up, but he forces the words out of his mouth because Connor is still walking away and Zoe is crying and he can fix this. For once he can do something right and not be such a failure. So he opens his mouth, and he says the only thing he hopes will make Connor stop.
“Zoe asked me to get you!”
It's a lie. It's a big, fat lie and Evan regrets it the second it comes out of his mouth. He should have gone back to Jared and minded his own business and-
“She did?” Connor looks at Evan with eyes so wide and big they seem to take up half his face. He looks like he doesn't believe it. He looks hopeful, almost. Evan feels his heart squeeze, although he doesn't know why. He's still nervous and can't stop pulling up grass with his shaking hands, and he doesn't think he's breathing.
“Y-yeah, she did,” he answers, so soft it's like a whisper. “O-or next time, she wants to see you.”
Connor looks back at the pitch, at the towers that are farther away than Evan realized, and he shakes his head.
“No, she's gone by now, there's no point-”
“Maybe she isn't,” Evan interrupts. He clamps his mouth shut. He's never done that before.
Connor bits his lip and Evan watches with a weird fascination. It's weird, he realizes, recognizing his own nervous habits are the same as someone else's.
“Alright,” Connor finally says. “Let's go, then.”
Evan almost chokes. “W-what? No, I’ll leave you two alone-”
“No,” Connor says.
“But-”
“No. I'm not gonna look like a fucking moron walking back to the school by myself if she's gone.”
Evan thinks that, if anything, Connor will look lamer if he's seen walking back with Evan, but before he can tell him that, before he can warn Connor that being with Evan only brings more trouble, Connor steps forward and stops right in front of him, and somehow, he offers Evan his hand.
(Evan feels the tug of a memory, so faded from pushing it away it's like a dream, and his eyes burn pathetically. He smells the forest and feels a phantom burn in his arm and looks up and thinks, for half of an instant, he might be seeing an angel.)
“Well?” Connor wiggles his hand a little, and Evan reaches up and grabs it.
When they're halfway back to the pitch, Evan sees the Hufflepuff team rise up in their broomsticks and fly back to the castle. Connor stops and watches them, hand clenching to a fist by his side, and he turns around again.
“You lied,” he says.
Evan winces. “It's the only way I thought you would stop.”
“Yeah, well it just wasted my damn time.”
“You can always congratulate her next time!”
Connor glares at him in the corner of his eye. “The next Hufflepuff game is in February, and they're up against Slytherin. She’s not going to win.”
“Well, y-you don’t know that.”
Connor stops and Evan stops with him. He turns to Evan and looks at him like he’s just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “You really think Hufflepuff can beat Slytherin? Hufflepuff?”
Evan feels like he’s going to throw up. Connor stares him right in the eye and waits for him to respond, for him to pedal back and correct himself. Evan takes a deep breath and says, “Yes.” He doesn't know what he expects, maybe an eye roll or a crude remark, but what he gets is a smile.
“Alright,” Connor says. “Maybe they will.”
They walk in silence the rest of the way to the castle, but the entire time, Connor is still smiling.
*
Things get a little weird, after that cloudy afternoon walking back from the Quidditch Pitch.
Okay, maybe a ‘little’ weird is a bit of an understatement. Or an overstatement. Evan isn’t really too sure how to understand the situation at hand.
The thing is, he thinks Connor Murphy might be his friend.
It starts like this: he’s in the library with Alana and Jared, and they’re arguing over something stupid. Evan has corrected the both of them four times now, but they keep talking over him, and he can’t just raise his voice and say what he wants to. If he yells in the library, he’ll be kicked out, and then every time he goes back in the library the librarian will glare at him from under her tiny spectacles and Evan will have to live out the last two remaining years at Hogwarts feeling the heat of her scrutinizing gaze.
He just can’t live like that.
So he reads an old Greek mythology book while they argue in harsh whispers, only looking up when Alana stomps her foot in frustration and causes all the books floating down from their respective shelves to drop simultaneously. It is a very loud noise. People turn their heads and every stare paralyzes him, makes his head swim and pulse with an oncoming headache.
“Damn it! I forgot I need to talk to my Potions partner about our presentation today.” She bends down and picks up all the books, and Evan rushes to help her, stacking them all up on the table in a huge tower. Alana looks at the clock and then looks back at Evan. “Can you help me carry these to my room?”
“But Jared’s a Ravenclaw-”
“Come on, Evan! It’s not like you’re banned from the Ravenclaw room! It’ll only take five minutes, I swear,” she begs. Evan knows it will take longer than five minutes to just to get out of the library, but he says okay anyways and grabs half of the stack of books.
He knows something is weird when they turn in the wrong direction when heading to the Ravenclaw tower. Evan’s arms are aching. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t correct Alana, either, because maybe she’s going to show him a shortcut that he doesn’t know about, and if he brings up that they’re going the wrong way, she’ll just think he’s an idiot.
“We’re going to stop by my potions class, first,” Alana explains as if sensing Evan’s brain going into overdrive over having to decide whether to bring up the direction change or not. “I just need to talk to my partner for a minute.” Evan relaxes as much as he can with the heavy stack of books in his arms.
They’re in the classroom before Evan really realizes it. He sees the rough edges of the brick walls, the glare of the sun against glass beakers filled with bubbling potions. Two boys snicker as they mix something that puffs up a nasty smelling smoke. Amidst stacked textbooks and a rack of colorful concoctions sits Connor, alone at a desk meant for two, furiously scribbling in random answers on what Evan assumes was last night's homework. Alana sets her books down and gestures for Evan to do the same, and then leans over and taps her nails against the oak of the table, a click that echoes along the scratch of the quill against the paper. Connor doesn’t look up, and Evan steps closer to Alana’s side, like a small child peeking behind their mother’s legs.
“I thought we agreed to meet here during our study,” Connor snaps. He dips the quill in ink and continues writing. Evan sneaks a peek and frowns at the barely legible letters that crookedly run across his unlined notebook. He misspells a word and curses as he scratches it out and continues.
“I’m sorry, I was busy picking up the reference books that you returned a week too early,” Alana says.
Connor frowns. “That was an accident.”
“Accident or not, it cost us time. Did you bring the potion?” Connor holds up a pink glowing liquid in a small vial in response, and Alana plucks it from his hand and smiles. “Very nice work, Murphy.”
“Not as dumb as you thought, huh?” The look on Connor’s face is something close to a teasing grin, but not quite.
Alana laughs. “Definitely not.”
“I see you have a shadow,” Connor says. He looks at Evan, and Alana does too.
“This is Evan,” she says.
Connor stares at him. “I know.” Alana nudges Evan with her hip, and he steps out from where he was slightly behind her.
It's a mistake.
At that moment, the two snickering boys from earlier pour their two mixtures together. Evan is the only one who sees it, watches with wide eyes as a deep purple meets a sickening yellow that radiates an orange glow, forming a dark green that hardens, solidifies, and then melts all over again. He watches as one of the boys, short and chubby with blond hair that flops over his eyes, hurls it back and launches it into the air.
In that same time frame, that same second, Alana steps away, bending down to pick up a book to add some last minute notes for their presentation. She does not see the potion that is on its way to hurling itself in her direction. She does not notice how Evan locks himself in place out of fear and shock.
Connor gets up from his chair, wood scratching against wood, mumbling something about getting his notebook that’s back in his room and being back in a second. He turns his head and grabs his bag and almost misses the glass vial that flies past his shoulder, skimming past Alana.
It comes for Evan, and he closes his eyes and prays it won't burn his face off as he waits for the hit.
And waits.
And he feels nothing.
(Briefly, he wonders if whatever was in that vial killed him. He worries for the mess he made and hopes Alana isn't too scarred by his potentially very gory death.)
When he opens his eyes, the glass vial levitates in front of his nose. He breathes in a shaky breath and the glass brushes against his nose. Alana gasps and turns to look at the two boys who stare at them, amusement slipping into awe slipping into fear. There's the crash of a chair hitting the floor, and Evan watches them book it, pushing and shoving past each other to leave the room, their laughs echoing down the halls. Connor stands before him, wand out and extended, pointed at the vial. He takes a deep breath, and the glass slowly bobs up and down in the air with him. Connor turns back to look at Evan and orders him: “Step back, Hansen.”
Evan complies. Connor sighs and drops his wand, and the vial drops with it, the dark green substance landing as a solid on the ground and slowly melting into a liquid, seeping through the cracks of the wood floor until it's completely gone.
“That was,” Alana starts, but she doesn't finish her sentence. She stares at Connor and then looks at Evan, and then down at the floor at the broken vial. She steps back. “I'm going to find them and report them,” she decides. She turns to Evan and tells him, “Stay right here, okay?”
Evan doesn't have a chance to respond before Alana charms herself to be faster, and sprints out of the room in a blur.
“Keep holding your breath like that and you might just pass out,” Connor mumbles. Evan looks at him with wide eyes. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath. He takes a big gulp of air and tastes charcoal, probably the smell of the potion that was flung at him moments before, and slowly exhales. Every movement hurts, muscles still tense and in high alert. Every breath is supposed to calm him down, but it only makes him more worked up, the air feeling like razor blades scratching down his throat.
When he finally speaks, it's in words so soft he has to repeat himself three more times to be heard. “Thank you.”
Connor has gone back to writing whatever report he was working on previously. He looks up and dips his quill in ink again and says, “Whatever.”
Evan wants to show that he really is grateful, but any words he can think off get jumbled around in his head, and by the time he thinks his throat is clear enough to allow him to speak, it's too late. The moment is gone. If he were to say anything now, Connor would think he is weird for trying to start a conversation when it clearly died out. So Evan just bends down and picks up the broken shards of glass, holding them carefully in his cupped palm. When he stands up again, Connor is watching him. It makes his heart skyrocket, makes him have to remember the glass on his palm so he doesn't clench his fists and cut himself.
These are the times when Evan wishes more than anything for something more. He wants too much, too much to be healthy, too much to remain selfless and good. He wants therapy, and the kind of medication he sees on blogs on the Internet that teens like him have, the kinds that they say make them start to feel normal again. Not their normal, the right normal, the normal that allows you to speak in full, long sentences without gasping for air, the normal that would finally allow him to breathe without the crippling fear of being judged for even opening his mouth crumple him.
He doesn't have that. He doesn't have a therapist to dissect the root of his anxiety and he doesn't have medication that will help him move past it and he doesn't have the bravery to say something about it. What he has is something he'd give away in an instant; the wand, the magic, and the school full of students who push him aside like the nothing he is. All he has is himself, a mouse named Squid, and a bunch of useless magic.
“You’re in my Herbology class, right?”
“Oh! Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“Cool,” Connor says. “Really cool.”
Evan swallows and mumbles, “Yeah.” It’s quiet for a minute, and Evan kicks the tiny shards of glass with the toe of his sneaker when Connor clears his throat again.
“Hey, um, do you have your notes from class yesterday? I was sick so I missed the lesson,” he says.
“Yes! Yes, I have the notes. Did you throw up? A-Are you still sick?” Words fumble out of Evan’s mouth with no sign of stopping. This is weird. He shouldn’t be this nervous. Why is he this nervous?
“No, I’m fine,” Connor laughs. It’s one of those laughs that doesn’t sound like one, like a laugh in disguise. It’s a harsh breath with a hint of an awkward smile, and Evan watches it all happen in real time.
“Oh, good! That’s great because we’re actually doing this cool research project where you take the roots of-” he stops himself when he catches Connor staring at him with a shocked smile, and Evan realizes how stupid he must sound. That’s the only reason why Connor is smiling; to laugh at him. “Nevermind, it’s dumb. I can give you the notes tomorrow, or Thursday, or whenever you need.”
“Tomorrow,” Connor chooses. He picks at cuticles of his nails; peels back chipped nail polish that looks weeks old. “Before dinner, we can meet in the East Courtyard. You can give me the notes I missed, or I can copy them. Whatever you want."
“Oh, alright, yeah! Whatever works for you, just know I'm almost always free- not because I have nothing to do because I do homework and- um, stuff,” Evan babbles. He cringes, and he waits for Connor to do the same. All he does is stare at him dead in the eye.
“Be careful, though,” Connor warns. “Sometimes the rose bushes reach out and drag students in. It's a rather unpleasant sight, really, all the blood and everything.” He scrunches his nose, and Evan can't help but notice the little wrinkles that fold over his nose, skin scrunched up in disgust.
“Good to know…”
Connor doesn't say anything, and Evan stands there, waiting for a signal to leave or stay. He should wait for Alana, he promised he'd wait for Alana, but the room is too quiet and the atmosphere surrounding him is too tense, and Evan thinks he’s just going to skip Architectural Magic and hide out in his room. He can make up the work tomorrow.
Evan leaves a note apologizing for leaving and saying he brought the stack of books to his room and she can come and get them whenever she wants and he’ll carry them back for her, and then he picks up the books and turns to leave. He keeps his gaze on the floor and shuffles past the few students that walk into the classroom early. When he's at the door, Connor looks up and calls to him.
“Tomorrow,” he confirms. He's still hunched over and still staring Evan dead in the eye in a way that makes it seem like he doesn't really care, but then Evan sees his hand, the one holding the quill, lax grip now tightened, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. Evan briefly realizes that Connor might be nervous.
Evan looks up and meets his eye. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Tomorrow.”
*
The rose bushes reach for him twice.
The first time, Evan feels thorns wrap around his ankle and almost drops the books in his hands when it tugs. He doesn't actually drop them, just fumbles a little, and for that he is grateful.
The second time the rose bush reaches for him, he already has his wand out and ready. He spells a small fire in the grass and watches as the vine of the bush retreats. Then, he steps further away again and sits down on the grass.
His ankle is bleeding a little bit, the thorns having punctured small cuts around his ankle in a circle. He pulls his pant leg up and grazes his wand against his skin with a mumble of Episkey. He watches his skin mend itself together again, new skin soft and pink and sensitive. When he looks up from his ankle, Connor is standing in front of him, looking, for once, a little interested.
“Do you always attract trouble? Or is that just a little quirk that happens near me?”
Evan laughs nervously, and Connor sits down across from him, pulling his messenger bag into his lap and taking out a notebook and fountain pen. Evan pulls out his own notebook and talks Connor through the notes. He stutters and sometimes has to pause to gather his thoughts, but Connor waits patiently and continues off from where they left off. It’s a good feeling when Connor doesn’t say anything about Evan’s nervous tics, doesn’t stare at how he scratches and pulls at the hem of his pants or doesn’t pay any mind to how Evan rips up grass until there’s a bald patch on the field. He just writes his notes, and that’s all.
When they’re done, there are five minutes left until dinner, and Evan’s stomach is growling. He didn’t eat anything all day because he didn’t think he could stomach it. He was too nervous of somehow messing this up.
“Thanks for the notes,” Connor says. He stands up and Evan does too, and they start walking back to the school. It’s like it was a few weeks ago at the Quidditch pitch, Evan rushing to keep up, his shorter steps fast in order to stay in time with Connor’s long strides.
“It’s no problem, really,” Evan says.
Connor stops. “No, really. I don’t think anyone else would offer me their notes. The rest of this school hates me.”
Evan hesitates. “No, I don’t think-”
“They do,” Connor deadpans. “I know they do.”
Evan doesn’t know what to say. Like, he really has nothing to say. He’s so used to words and sentences fighting their way out of his mouth but his entire brain is silent, dead, waiting. He opens his mouth, and no words come out. In the distance, Evan hears the loud series of sounds that only come from all the students heading to dinner. Connor looks at the castle and looks back at Evan and shakes his head.
“I-”
“Come to my room,” Evan blurts.
Connor frowns and steps back. “Um, what?”
Evan’s heart picks up speed rapidly. He hates being put on the spot, he hates talking, he hates how he freaks out. “I-I mean, the test. We have a test! Thursday, in Herbology, about the stuff I gave you notes on. We can skip dinner, and I have snacks in my room- they’re not allowed, but I do- and we can just study in there, if you want.” Connor still looks at him weirdly, so Evan backtracks and adds, “O-Or we can just stay out here! I don't mind, I just don't wanna leave you alone-”
“Hansen.”
“Unless you want to be alone! Which is perfectly cool! I don't even know why I asked, so you know what I'll just go-”
“Hansen”
“-we can totally forget this conversation ever happened, and I’ll see you in class tomorrow, so-”
“Evan.”
Evan stops, closes his eyes, and waits for the punch; he doesn't know why he expects the punch, but he does. Probably because if he were someone else, he would punch himself in the face for the amount of stupid word vomit that just left his mouth.
“Yes?” His voice comes out all squeaky and weak. It makes him wince.
“Just- take me to your room,” Connor says. Evan looks at him and waits for him to laugh, or show that he's joking. Nothing happens and Connor slaps his hand against his forehead. “Well? Did you forget the way to your fucking room? Are we gonna go or not? Hello!?”
“Yes! I mean, no, I didn't forget the way to my room. Yes, we are going to go there,” Evan says. He still hasn't moved.
“Okay, Evan, just take your fucking time.”
Evan jumps and starts walking, leading the way. Behind him, Connor chokes a little, and when Evan looks back, he sees how his lips are pressed together and his cheeks are flushed a little and when he raises his hand to wipe his nose and laughs a little into his hand.
Normally, Evan would feel his stomach plummet to his feet and cringe at the itch of bile creeping its way up his throat, but somehow, this does the opposite. It makes his chest feel a little lighter and it's a little harder to breathe. His vision goes a little blurry and he blinks a lot to clear it, and almost runs into the door because he's too busy watching Connor.
He snaps to attention when some kid that passes by calls him an airhead and only focuses on the path in front of him, not at the boy trailing behind him. Weirdly, Evan likes watching Connor smile. He's too used to seeing him glare and snarl at everything, and part of him wants to keep watching him, but then he figures that there's really no point; the image of Connor smiling is gonna be burned into his mind for a while.
*
Walking into the empty Gryffindor common room is a little odd.
Walking into the empty Gryffindor common room with a Slytherin is a little odder.
Connor doesn't really say anything about the room except that it's much warmer than the Slytherin’s. He lounges on a couch and freaks out a little when he sinks so far into the cushion he almost disappears.
“Everything Slytherin is hard and uncomfortable,” he explains when Evan can't hold back the laugh. “You Gryffindors are too… soft.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Evan snorts.
Connor thinks and then smiles a little. “Not always.”
(At that, Evan’s heart skyrockets and it feels like it's about to break his ribs and things feel a little lighter around him.)
When they do make it up to Evan’s room, it's about halfway through dinner. Evan wanted Connor out before it ended, just to save him from the stares of all the Gryffindors that laze around with full stomachs, but then Evan remembers that not everyone is like him. Connor doesn't seem like he would care. He’s too above it all.
“I live alone,” Evan explains as he opens the door. “My roommates- well, the headmaster thought it’d be best if I remained by myself, for the rest of my education.” His room is in the corner of the tower, up five flights of stairs and with a window that juts out and gives him a good view of the grounds. Now, when he peers through the foggy glass, he can see the illuminated windows of the dining hall. His mouth waters at the thought of food, and he turns around and pulls out an old trunk out from under his bed. “I have some snacks stored here- they’re mostly Muggle food, so sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” Connor watches from where he stands in the center of the room. He has taken off his cloak and stands in the middle of the room in dress pants and a wrinkled white collared shirt. Somehow, even with Hogwart’s rigorous dress code, he still looks disheveled and messy. Evan pulls out pretzels and potato chips and even a small jar full of chocolates and caramels and sets them all on the floor. On his dresser, Squid runs around frantically, and Evan looks up sheepishly.
“Do you mind if I take her out of her cage? She just wants to run around the room for a while,” he says.
Connor shrugs. “It’s your room. You do whatever you want.”
That doesn’t really help. Evan feels a spike of panic arise and he suppresses it with a smile and points to the ground across from him and tells Connor he can have whatever he wants. He lays his robe on the floor and quickly pulls a jumper on over his head because it’s a little cold in his room, with winter setting in and everything. He grabs the matches from his bottom dresser drawer and grabs a log for the fireplace, and lights a fire starter before tossing it in next to the log with a prayer that it catches and saves him the embarrassment of having to explain he’s rather terrible at starting fires. He gets up and walks over to Squid’s cage last. She scratches at the wire bars until she can crawl into his hand. Evan sits back down and sits her on his knee.
“This is Squid. She’s a mouse,” he says.
“You have a mouse that you named Squid?” Connor asks. Evan feels his face flush red with embarrassment, and he runs his finger along Squid’s back for some sense of comfort.
“Yeah, it’s a stupid story.”
Connor opens the bag of pretzels and picks one up, licking it before eating it. Evan realizes that this might be the first time Connor has ever even had Muggle food, and suddenly, he’s self-conscious of what he has. They aren’t exactly name-brand stuff that some Mudbloods bring to Hogwarts to sell to the purebloods, just store-brand copies that aren’t as good. Still, Connor seems to dig the pretzels. He doesn’t really touch anything else.
“We have time,” Connor says. “Tell me.”
Evan gulps. He opens a bag of potato chips and lets Squid nibble on one of them. He wasn’t lying when he said the story is stupid. It would be a waste of time to talk about, especially when they should be studying. But then Evan finds himself thinking of his story, piecing it together in his head and already planning out what he’s going to say, and his mind has already been made up.
Evan opens his mouth and he lets the words flow.
*
The story is not important. Evan realizes that halfway through it, when he has to stop because he’s trying not to laugh and Squid is going crazy, crawling over his legs and even up his arms to nibble at his cheek. Connor knowing about Evan’s mouse’s name is not the point.
The point is that when Evan speaks, something in his chest loosens. It’s subtle, like the click of a door unlocking in the middle of the night, but it’s there, and before Evan realizes it, he’s breathless and Connor is laughing, mouth full of half-eaten pretzels and it should be gross but it isn’t. It makes his head spin and makes Evan feel so giddy he’s lightheaded, and when he’s done talking, he’s out of breath. It isn’t because of his anxiety choking him. It isn’t because he’s so nervous he can’t catch his breath. It’s because his words have tired him out so much that he’s exhausted, and it’s in a good way.
The ability to speak without feeling like someone is covering his mouth and forcing his words back down his throat is so new Evan can’t explain it. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s in his room, or maybe it’s because he has Squid in his hands and now she’s sleeping in his palm, but these moments are rare and far between, a random spark that lights itself and burns bright. Evan thinks Connor recognizes it or senses something different because he just listens. He goes from sitting rigidly to laying on Evan’s floor and popping pretzels into his mouth, and when the pretzel bag is empty, Evan drops a handful of chips into his palm.
Maybe he’s tired or maybe this is a dream, but Evan doesn’t think he’s been this comfortable with someone in a long time. His eyes are heavy and drooping and it’s really dark outside. When Evan lays down, he crumples the chip bag and doesn’t bother to roll over. He just stares out the window and swallows saliva to wet his dry throat.
“It’s really fucking dark out, isn’t it,” Connor observes.
“Yeah,” Evan replies. He’s so tired. It seems to take all his energy just to turn and look at Connor.
“I should be going,” Connor says, but he doesn’t make any movements to actually get up. Evan frowns and sits up.
“Are you alright?”
“What? Yeah.” Connor gets up and brushes crumbs off of his shirt and pants. Squid stirs and jumps to eat them, and Evan is too slow to stop her. Connor doesn’t look like he cares. “It’s late, and I overstayed my visit and I… ate all your damn food.”
“What? No, it’s okay, it’s fine.” Evan rushes to his feet after Connor stands up. “It’s okay, really.”
Connor doesn’t say anything, and Evan walks him to the door and waits for him to put on his cloak. It’s a little awkward, mostly because Connor isn’t really looking at Evan and it’s making him freak out a little, thoughts and replays of the night going through his mind. Did he do something wrong? Self-doubt creeps in like the cold and Evan is chilled down to the bone as he waits for something, anything.
Connor walks out the door and says nothing, and Evan goes rigid.
“Um, bye!” He waves out the doorway and slams the door shut. God, he fucked up so bad. Why else would Connor just leave like that?
Squid scampers across his foot, and Evan reaches down and scoops her up, He holds her against his cheek and closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then, he sets her down again.
“C’mon, girl, we gotta clean this up,” he says softly. He gathers up chip bags and pretzel bags and Squid eats the crumbs off the floor, and when all the bags are crinkling in his arms and he’s walking to the waste bin, someone knocks on the door.
It must be Alana. She still hasn’t come for the books.
When he opens the door, it’s Connor.
“Oh! I… thought you left,” Evan says.
“I did, yeah,” Connor says. “But now I’m back.”
“Oh.” Evan frowns. He’s confused. “Cool?” Connor nods and Evan opens the door a little wider. “Do you… do you wanna come in again?”
“No! No, I wanted to ask you something,” Connor blurts out. Evan nods and waits. “Well, we were gonna study, but we didn’t, so I was wondering if you actually wanna study sometime. Just studying, you know? I won’t distract you or anything like I did today.” Evan’s breath gets caught in his mouth, and he coughs a little to clear his throat. He smiles.
“Yeah! I mean, you didn’t distract me today, I swear, most of it was-.” He cuts himself off before he starts babbling again, and just smiles a little extra wide and hopes that’s enough. It is. Connor nods and looks back at the hallway that leads to the spiraling staircase and steps back.
“Alright! Cool. I’ll, um, I’ll see you in Herbology tomorrow.”
“And Care for Magical Creatures,” Evan adds.
“Yes, and that too,” Connor mumbles. “Alright, sorry for keeping you up late. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Evan laughs. He peeks out the door frame while Connor walks down the stairs and hops down the stairs, and sends a little prayer out that is there is anyone remaining in the common room that they don’t mess with Connor too much.
He finishes cleaning and puts on his pajamas, and if he sits on the window seat by the window and watches Connor walk across the field to the Slytherin tower, it’s only by coincidence, and nothing more.
*
A lot of things happen, after that night.
Some girl passes out in Potions after having to harvest the left kidney of a toad for a potion recipe, Evan has to cut his hair after getting gum stuck in it, and every Wednesday he meets Connor in the library to review the material they learned that week in Care for Magical Creatures and Herbology. He doesn’t mention the bad haircut, uneven on the left side and cut too close to his head, and that’s it. The rowdiness of other students makes sense, though. It’s nearing Christmas break, and the cold air is always filled with an excited buzz, every student ready to take off from school and head home. Evan isn't an exception.
Evan has borrowed Jared’s owl and has sent out three letters reminding his mother of the dates that he has off and a list of things he thinks might be fun to do. They don’t celebrate Christmas, but he’s happy to make a list of everything he wants to do with her anyway. On the top of that list is to finally get his cast removed. By the time he get’s back home, his bone will be completely healed. Of course, he wants to visit the forest reserve three towns over, too. He loves it there, and typically spends the entire day just hiking the different trails and trying to remember stupid survival tactics he picked up from his very few years being a cub-scout. He wants to rearrange his room, sleep in his bed, eat in his own kitchen at his small table with cruddy silverware that never seems to wash right. He wants the feeling of paper towels rather than silk napkins, the flick of a light switch that he rarely gets to feel in the castle.
He craves the simplicity of a normal life, has a hunger for it that he can’t begin to explain.
But there are good things that happen, too. They light up Evan’s week like the morning sun through his window, each ray making his heart blossom in his chest, and they hold him over until he knows he can go home. Jared’s parents buy him a book all about Muggle gardens that they picked up in an old vintage shop. Alana gets the best score on a test in one of her classes and bakes cookies for everyone in a fit of happiness that sticks around for a whole week and a half. Evan answers three questions in class without stuttering once. Each day brings a small joy and yes, maybe some of the joyous moments are really small and barely there, but they still happen, and it makes everything a little easier. Things are going to be great, and he knows it. The thought of break distracts him, infatuates his mind and makes it so he can barely focus on anything else. He doesn’t really focus that much during his study sessions with Connor, and he zones out during heated conversations with Alana and Jared. He doesn’t hear when Jared tells Evan that he’s invited to his family’s Christmas dinner.
“Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t wanna go, though. My mom’s casserole is shit, and not the good kind of shit. It’s literally garbage,” he says. He wrinkles his nose in disgust.
“I’m gonna be with my mom all of break,” Evan says with a smile.
“Your mom can come too, you know,” Jared adds. “She’d probably be better company.” Evan flushes from embarrassment and hikes his shoulders up to hide the way his ears go red. He smiles, though, and Jared bumps his shoulder into his own. Evan knows the next two weeks are going to go smoothly.
And then he gets the letter, four days before he is going to leave.
He wants to rip it. He almost does, he grips it with knuckles so white they blend into the snow that falls through the open gaps in the stone of the Owlery and thinks of tearing it and tossing it, but then he doesn’t. It sinks in, a heavy weight that he swallows all the way down to his stomach, and he realizes that there is nothing he can do. Evan can kick and scream all he wants but it won’t do anything. Nothing will ever fix it. He folds up the letter and stuffs it in his pocket and brushes his hands against Jared’s owl, frozen fingers getting pulled in by the owl’s heavy feather coat. She coos and cocks her head, gentle and soft, and Evan smiles. He feels a tear streak down his cheek.
Weird. He didn’t even realize he was crying.
*
In the end, it was Jared’s idea.
Evan can’t stay with Jared because he’s already hosting about ten other people that are all extended family- as explained in the letter he received two days after Evan asked- and Alana’s parents don’t really know Evan that well, so he didn’t even expect a yes. They sit in Evan’s room, wondering, thinking. It’s best when your two friends are Ravenclaws. They are quick to come up with solutions, and Evan expects his issue of having no one to stay with for one week of his Christmas break will be solved by the time the hour is done.
As they walk to dinner, they still haven’t figured it out.
“Your mom’s working, you said?”
“They’re transferring her to a hospital that’s three cities away for the holiday season. Apparently, they get a lot of emergency situations and they’re pulling people from everywhere to go assist to help with… hospital… stuff,” Evan mumbles.
“And you can’t just stay home alone?” Alana asks. Evan shakes his head no. He told them before, about how his mom really didn’t want him to be home alone. His summer therapist agreed, especially after what had happened. His friends, of course, did not know why. He preferred it that way.
“I say go home anyway and throw a party. Who cares who comes, you can spend the whole night hammered talking to yourself,” Jared says. Evan shudders. The idea of his house being full of strangers, all of them drunk, really made him uncomfortable.
“No,” Alana scolds. “Evan, there has to be someone, anyone who you can ask. Maybe your partner for that project in Care for Magical Creatures a few weeks ago. What was her name? Angelica? How about her?”
“She’s a girl, and her parents don't know me,” Evan says. “It’s the same situation with you, Alana. They aren’t going to invite a random boy into their home for five days.”
It clicks for Jared the same time it clicks for Evan. They are about to split off to go to their respective tables with promises of meeting up after dinner to figure it out when there’s a tap on Evan’s shoulder. He turns around, and it’s Connor. His messenger bag is slung over his shoulder and he is panting.
“Oh no,” Evan says at the same time Connor asks, “Where were you?”
Jared looks between the two of them, and Evan can see the cogs turning in his head.
Connor is angry. His face is scrunched up, teeth bared like a wild animal, and when he opens his mouth, Evan wants to cower behind Alana. “I’ve been waiting in the library,” he hisses. No, not angry, it’s deeper than that. Paranoid. He looks at Evan like he doesn’t know who he is and Evan takes a step back.
“I’m so sorry. I forgot it was Wednesday” Evan promises. Connor looks at him for a minute and then turns to Jared and Alana. They stare back with wide eyes. Thinking. Contemplating. Out of the corner of his eye, Jared grins. “I’ve had a really bad day and- and I’ve been so busy trying to figure something out and it slipped my mind and I am so sorry-”
“It’s okay,” Connor says suddenly. He looks better, calmer. “I flipped out, my bad.”
“No, I’m sorry for forgetting, especially with that quiz tomorrow, I can’t believe I just forgot-”
“Evan,” Connor interrupts, “it’s fine, really.” He walks away quickly, and when Jared calls out for him to hold up, he flips him off over his shoulder. Evan winces.
“He’s just, um, angry? And cranky, like, a lot of the time? I’m sure he didn’t mean that,” he explains.
Jared rolls his eyes. “He sure seemed patient with you.”
“Probably because I’m helping him get his grades up,” Evan suggests. He doesn’t know if that’s true. When they study, Connor seems to catch up quick. The only thing that holds him back is his tendency to skip class altogether.
“Interesting,” Jared says. “Very interesting.” He looks at Alana, who watched him with a cautious eyes and crosses her arms. “What?”
“You're scheming,” Alana accuses. She narrows her eyes and jabs her finger into his arm. “Why are you scheming?”
“Hey! I'm not scheming!” Jared exclaims. “I'm just thinking that maybe-”
“Excuse me gentlemen and… lady, but it is time for you all to go to your respective tables.” There's a professor behind Evan, one he doesn't even bother to look at. He can tell by the tone of her voice, more mature and authoritative. He jumps a little and lets apologies spill from his mouth while he turns to leave. Jared calls over his shoulder and tells him to go to the library after, and Evan nods in acknowledgment and hopes Jared saw.
Throughout dinner, he’s jittery. He doesn't know why. He wants to blame the fact that he’s most likely going to have to stay at Hogwarts for winter break, but that isn't it. Thinking that makes him sad and terrible, not guilty and like he might throw up.
It occurs to him halfway through the meal that the cause of this horrible feeling is most likely Connor. Thinking Connor is mad at him makes Evan’s stomach lurch, and once he realizes it, he stops eating. He can't stomach anything anymore, no matter how much he really craves a brownie or cookie when he catches sight of them across the table. He looks at the Slytherin table, all the way across the room, and tries to find Connor.
It's difficult. Now that it's winter, most of the room is just a crowd of students in dark robes, some with their knitted caps still atop their heads. Connor wasn't wearing a beanie, though, so he scans the length of the Slytherin table in hopes of seeing his hair, or catch a glimpse of flipping some kid off. He stops after ten minutes of searching because his eyes start to hurt a little from the strain, and spends the rest of dinner looking down at his half full plate knowing that until this icky feeling goes away, he won't be able to even eat it.
*
“You should just ask him.”
“No. Absolutely not. I will never, never-”
“Evan!” Jared grabs him by the shoulder and forces him to look at him. “It’s just five nights! You know him, he seems to tolerate you, lord knows why. Plus, Connor’s rich and probably lives in one of those huge old manors. You probably won’t even see him half the time.”
“I don’t care!” Evan whines. “I’m not going to ask him and I’ve already told my mom I’m staying here for the first week, then coming to your house for dinner. Then, I’ll go home.”
“How are you going to leave the castle?” Alana asks.
“The Floo Network,” both Evan and Jared say at the same time.
“My mom asked the Ministry if her house can be connected a year back in case something happened while she was at work. She wanted it to be easy for me to get to Jared’s house,” Evan explains. “I’ll use Floo powder to get to Jared’s from the school, and from there I’ll go home. Jared will have to take Squid to his house, though. My fireplace is too small for me to fit her cage in with me.”
“He thought of it this morning,” Jared says. “I think it’s a pretty smart idea.” He wrinkles his nose. “Although I'm not keen on the idea of having to care for a rat.”
“It’s a smart plan,” Alana starts, “but are you sure you’re going to be alright alone for five days?”
“Most of the people who bother me are leaving,” Evan says. “I’ll be fine. I’ll catch up on some readings I have to do for class.”
That night, Evan takes out a bunch of library books and piles them on top of the end of his bed. Jared comes later to drop off a small pouch with Floo Powder and a note with his address written hastily on it. Evan reminds himself to rewrite it neater when Jared leaves.
He can’t lie and say he isn’t upset about having to stay at school for part of his Christmas break, but he isn’t completely destroyed over it. He’ll still get to see his mom and they’ll still do all of the things they planned, he just won’t have as much time with her as he wishes. But it’s okay because at least he’ll have good food here. That, at least, is some kind of comfort.
*
Evan wakes up early Saturday morning to see Jared and Alana off. They each hover a luggage piece over their heads, Jared’s significantly larger than Alana’s because after all these years, he still doesn’t do his laundry very well, spells or no spells. Evan walks them to the front gates and they each hug him goodbye before they leave for the station. Jared reluctantly takes Squid and her cage, promising to take good care of her until Evan can Floo back home with her. They’re rather early to the gates, still having a little under an hour before the train actually leaves, but they all know that in order to get a good cart, you have to arrive early. Still, Evan just feels worse when he watches a few kids hop on the train, so he turns back to walk back to the castle. Maybe he can read in the library for a few hours, and then take a nap after that. He’s halfway to the castle when he sees Connor. Or maybe Connor sees him. He isn’t sure.
“Forget something?” Connor asks.
“No, I’m not- um, I’m not going home right now,” Evan laughs. “Listen, I’m still really sorry about forgetting to study with you, so after break, if you wanna leave class early or something I’ll totally take notes for you-”
“Why not?” Connor asks.
“Why am I not going home? Oh, well, my mom works at a Muggle hospital in our town, and you know, in some cities the hospitals get more crowded than others, so they have to pull out workers and she was one of them. It’s just for five days, though, so I’ll be fine.” Evan rubs the back of his neck and sighs. Connor worries at his lip and doesn’t meet Evan’s eye, and Evan briefly worries if he said something wrong. He keeps talking as if that will make it better. “But anyway, about the studying thing. I’m really, really sorry and I don’t know how to make it up to you-”
“Come over,” Connor says suddenly.
“What?”
Connor looks surprised he even spoke, and he looks anywhere but Evan, eyes flitting over to gates of the school. “You can just stay at my place until you need to go. You won’t be alone. I mean, Zoe’s gonna be home, obviously, and she likes you well enough-”
“I-I’m sorry, what?”
“Although my parents are really fucking annoying, they try, I guess. If you would rather stay here, though, I understand. I kinda wouldn't mind staying here, but I have to go home.”
“Um- uh…” Evan keeps babbling. He can’t even form words. Zoe likes him. Zoe and Connor have talked about him. He knows he doesn't have a crush on her, but this is unrelated to any feelings at all. The feeling of being liked and wanted by someone so unfathomable it makes his heart speed up, and when Connor steps a little closer to get out of a crowd of students’ way, it beats even faster. His hands are sweaty and he keeps pulling at the loose strands at the end of his scarf.
“Well?” Connor asks.
“Yes,” Evan answers before he even thinks about it. “I mean, yeah, cool, totally rad… dude.”
Connor knits his eyebrows together and gives a little breath of laughter. “Okay… I’ll wait here for you to get your shit together. You have-” He glances at the watch he has on his wrist. “-About twenty minutes.”
Evan swallows any words that threaten to escape his mouth, He doesn’t have time to stammer and make a fool of himself. He just walks swiftly back to the Gryffindor tower, pushing past the kids who are leaving with heavy suitcases and pets on their shoulder or flying ahead of them.
He doesn't know what he’s doing. He doesn't know why he’s doing this.
He packs one suitcase. He throws clothes in, not really paying attention, and puts all his hygienics in a separate bag. He will only be there for five days, and he has a lot of clothes still at home, so he packs only what he deems is his nicest clothes. When he’s done, they leave.
“Are you sure your parents will be okay with this?” Evan asks before they walk out the front gates. He feels weird, but he isn’t quite sure why. His entire body is freaking out, but his brain is calm, steady. It’s an otherworldly feeling, and for some strange reason, he loves it.
“Yeah,” Connor says. “They’ve always wanted me to bring a friend home.”