After a full day of classes, the common room was fairly empty. Only one other Slytherin sat at the table beneath the window while Theseus joined Freya and myself at the couches, the leather cushions soft enough for me to sink into them. A game of Gobstones was laid out in front of us, the occasional clink and slide against the wooden coffee table resonating through the room. In essence, each player competed by knocking the other's gobstones in and out of a circle drawn in chalk—Freya was playing against Theseus, and while there was some speculation of the others joining us, they were nowhere in sight. Lucretia and Oliver were god knows where, and Atrius—well, he was hovering around here, somewhere.
I threw my head back and laughed as one of Freya's losing gobstones spat a putrid liquid in her face. "Didn't you say you were good at this game?" I said. "Or was Scorpius just that good?"
"Nose down, Evie," Freya warned, though she was smirking.
"I'm so frightened."
Theseus chuckle on the other end of the couch. A teapot floated between us, pouring a bit of tea into my cup as well as his. "Honestly, the way you two talk to one another—I'd never guess you were friends."
Freya shrugged. "At least Evie bites back—everyone else is scared of me."
"And for good reason." At that, she stuck her tongue out at him. "What, d'you think I'm wrong?"
"Can't you are—prickly personalities run in our family." Freya's eyes jumped to the other side of the common room, eyes lighting wickedly at whoever was coming toward us. "You'd know all about that—wouldn't you, cousin?"
I didn't have to look back to know that Atrius she was talking to.
"What are you going on about?" he muttered as he came around the couch and—to my surprise—situated himself between myself and Theseus.
I was immediately uncomfortable, shifting closer to my end of the couch.
"Having a prickly personality," Freya said cheerfully. "Or—as Evie's called it, an 'unfortunate' one."
I'd been staring into the massive fireplace, distracting myself with the ornate design and vastness of the pit. At her remark, I felt their eyes on me immediately—save for Atrius's—and it was Freya I turned a glare on. Damn, but I could spring across the table to wipe that smirk off her face.
"Taunting me, now?" To the average ear, my tone might've sounded genuinely aggressive, but Freya knew better. Just as I did. "Are you trying to start a fight?"
"Trying to start something," the words escaped her as she sighed, leaning forward to grab her teacup off the table. What was that supposed to mean?
Atrius moved before I could respond, producing his wand from one of his pockets. I flinched a little at the sight of it. He must have seen it, too, as he waved it rather slowly toward the teacup sitting very specifically in front of me. The porcelain clinked as it lifted into the air and floated toward him, and I merely watched. His expression absolutely deadpan as he reached out with both hands to take it.
"That's my cup," I said as Theseus awkwardly played his next move.
Atrius made a show of smacking his lips, but didn't look at me. "Is it."
"Do you want to stop drinking from it, now?"
"Are you ill?" he muttered listlessly.
"What…?"
"Are you ill."
I furrowed a brow. "No?"
"Then I see no problem."
I exchanged a glance with Freya. Her eyes were narrowed just as mine, but there was more than confusion in hers. There was amusement, and—curiosity.
"You realize my mouth's been on that, do you?" I said again.
This time, he glanced down at the edge of the cup, brow slightly arched. Then took another sip.
Fine, then. I plastered my lips shut and pressed my back into the couch, digging the entire side of my body into the armrest. Atrius's weight beside me had the cushions sloping, but I grappled that armrest defiantly, swinging a leg over to cement my body where I sat. I focused on the basket of logs beside the fireplace, counting seven in total. The rustic candle stand upon the cupboard behind it had five candlesticks.
"Evie?" I'd been fuming, just barely starting to trail away when I heard my name. I turned toward Theseus, looking across Atrius to see him. It was hard pretending he wasn't there—despite his leanness, he was so damnably tall, there was barely room for him between the couch and the table.
"Sorry, what?" I said.
"Do you want to play?" he repeated—evidently—gesturing to the table.
"Oh, I'm fine. Thanks."
"I'll play, thanks for asking," Atrius said coolly, then looked at me. "Hard to believe you're not in the mood." His voice matched his deadpan expression—a little too unsettling for my liking, but I sensed the question in it. Was he suggesting we play one another?
I didn't need to glance back at the table to picture us sitting across from one another, facing off in in the game. Atrius held my stare, his silver eyes flickering gold in the light of the fire, creamy skin visible in the ambient lighting. He was suggesting that we play each other—I was all but certain. And while I may not have verbally responded, my body began reacting immediately to the notion—palms sweating, muscles tensing as flashbacks began of the last time he and I had stood in front of each other like that. Facing off. I could still picture the movement of his lips, the colorless spell that erupted from his wand and set shards to my body.
Damn it all, deep down, I was still afraid of him.
I sat up straight, trying to conceal my reaction. What was the point of this? Atrius had to have known the stress that memory would cause. I'd just begun speaking to him again—not that I particularly wanted to—but we were in the same room together, sitting on the couch beside one another—was there something about this that displeased him? Was he trying to push me away?
"Leave me alone," the words came far more clipped than I intended, void of emotion. When I glanced back, an inexplicable emotion was scrawled tightly across Atrius's features—gone the second his eyes met mine.
I looked away. Off in the corner of the room, sitting around the table hard at work, was the group of Slytherins that'd been studying there before. Only one among them didn't turn away immediately—Serena Bagshot was her name, I think. A rather petit girl with delicate features. It rather stood out, the way she perused Atrius's face, dragging her light eyes back down to her book. Her black hair curtained her face on either sides, and…
She was very pretty.
"So, Evie, when will you be putting your name into the Goblet?" Freya chimed pointedly from across the table, waving her wand to send another gobstone flying at one of Theseus's. God, she thrived on drama.
I swallowed thickly, my words still a bit jumbled inside my head. "Tomorrow. After potions."
"What about you, Atrius?" Freya asked without looking in his direction. I could smack her. But I loved her too much.
Atrius's eyes fluttered toward his cousin, his expression conveying the same thing I was thinking—what was Freya's aim in these chaotic lines of conversation? There were times when I could really see the influence of her family shining through in her family. Not that I would pass judgement myself, but she's said so herself many times—there isn't a soul in the Wizarding World that doesn't know the Lestrange reputation of sharp tongues and fiery personalities. But this? A call for utter chaos. Perhaps that's simply who Freya is.
I loved her all the same, for all the good qualities she possessed. Even if a layer conflicting-loving dust did cover those qualities occasionally.
Instead of answering, Atrius rose from the couch and left the common room, his footsteps echoing as he ascended to the dormitories. At that, Serena Bagshot packed her things and left, as well.
Wonderful—I could finally breathe again.
"Thanks for that," I said, shooting Freya a seething look. "What're you playing at, anyway? Are you honestly trying to get your cousin to fight me?"
Freya straightened pointedly and arched a wicked brow. "I don't appreciate being accused of such things."
"Well, it's either that, or you're genuinely trying to sew some discord into my life—out of boredom, no less."
Theseus sucked in a breath, awkwardly swirling the tip of his wand through his hair. He really didn't seem like he wanted to be there, and I was starting to feel the same.
"It's not your life that concerns me," Freya said, acquiescing with a touch of bitterness. She shrugged. "If it bothers you that much, I'll stay out of it."
"Stay out of what?" I was genuinely confused.
"Nothing." She sighed, then from the couch. A wave of her wand, and all the gobstones scattered outside the circle. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. See you later."
Theseus and I watched confusedly as Freya made her way out of the common room, going up to the dormitories.
"I really don't understand her sometimes," I said. "That's a rare occasion, mind you—but what the hell was that all about, anyway?"
Theseus looked like he was restraining some remarks. "The cup was the first time you've spoken to Atrius in three years."
"So?"
A slow shrug. "So, we don't talk much about it—but if I had to guess, I'd say everyone's excited that the two of you are talking again. Oliver, Freya, and I, leastways."
"I'm not 'talking' to him," I said as I sat back. "You make it sound like we were friends before all this. I was defending my teacup from him, I don'teven know why he took it in the first place." I looked down at the cup, just in time for the teapot to return and fill it.
"There's a reason to everything Atrius does," Theseus said. "Not a single thing he does for no reason. He learned that from you, you know."
I blinked. "What are you talking about?" Theseus looked away, suddenly reluctant to clarify. "Come on, you brought it up. Tell me what you mean by that."
Theseus's mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally said, "The last time he made a decision without thinking… a hefty price was paid. And now, he neither says nor does anything without giving it triple the amount of thought any one of us might. Granted, that mind of his works fast, but it also works hard."
A pause of silence. "That might not have done him the justice you intended it to," I said. "After all, he still hasn't apologized for what he did. Is that purposeful, as well?"
"I wasn't trying to do him justice. If anything, you might take it as a…hint, of sorts."
"A hint for what?"
"That there are no accidents with Atrius. No coincidences. Not anymore."
"Why would I take that hint? How is that supposed to help me with anything?" I asked. "Are you saying there's extensive thought behind petty annoyances like drinking my tea and inviting me to play gobstones?"
"I'm not saying that. I'm trying to get you to understand—you don't have to be so afraid of him anymore."
I narrowed my eyes. "Did he ask you to convey that to me?"
"Atrius never asks anyone for anything—he takes care of everything himself," Theseus said. "And anyway, I wouldn't want to get in the middle of it. If there's anything I might rationalize to you about Freya's behavior, it's that she wants this crossfire between the two of you to end. We all do—but if Atrius has any intentions toward you, of any nature, you'll find out soon enough."
"Of 'any' nature? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." He shook his head. "I didn't mean anything by it. Just that if Atrius has something to say, you'll hear it soon enough."
I snorted in derision. "There's only one thing I'd want to hear from him, and he's several years late in delivering it. I doubt I'll ever hear it, at this rate."
Theseus was quiet for a moment. "I doubt that, too."
That wasn't the answer I was expected. "You do?" A nod. "Why?"
More silence. "I know what happened between the two of you was traumatizing," he said. "But Atrius was served a side of it you never got to see. I doubt he likes revisiting it much, particularly where crafting an apology is concerned."
"What do you mean?"
"The day it happened—Freya went with you to the hospital wing, so no one told you what become of Atrius." A dark look came over his features. "Oliver won't talk about it, even to this day. Lucretia is…another story. But we were all there."
I waited for him to continue, watching the growing distance in his eyes. Floating back to the memory. When he didn't go on, I asked, "What happened to him?"
Theseus looked at me. "Oliver and I followed him that day. At first, we thought he was wondering down the hallways in a daze, until he stumbled into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. God only knows what he thought to find in there—it was late at night, if you recall—and we were alone.
"But then he began pounding against Professor Hornette's door. Had the place in an uproar, screaming and cursing some inane nonsense about his wand. It was unlike anything I'd even seen from him—hadn't seen anything like it before, haven't seen anything like it since," he said. "Half of what he said made no sense, the rest sounded like the words were being shaken from his body. Even as he started hitting the door with both hands, the professor didn't answer right away. It was just enough time for us to pull him away and get him back into the hall. From there, he went straight to the lavatory on the sixth floor, and…."
I tilted my head to get a better look at his expression. It was darker than I'd ever seen it. "And what?"
"And it was the first time I'd ever seen him cry."
I felt frozen in place. "He was…crying?".
"Not the way you're thinking," Theseus explained, his expression filling with the memory. "There were no sobs coming out of him. Nothing but fury in his features—and yet, I still remember the way the tears streaked through the anger. He scrubbed his hands raw until they were bleeding, and even then, he kept saying that couldn't get the blood off of them. It took mine and Oliver's strength combined to pull him away from the sink. He fought us every second and then snapped his wand in half in a fit of rage. That was when Lu found us."
His voice fell to a murmur, "I've…never seen her like that, either. Despite our best efforts, neither Oliver nor I managed what she did—Lu had him against the pillars within seconds, a hand at his neck. Said his weakness was disgusting."
My heart twisted as I pictured it. I didn't know what to say.
Theseus went on, "After that, he was sent home for a week. When he came back, he was…different."
I considered that a moment. "What happened to him?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. He never told us, and he refuses to talk about it now." They probably didn't know what spell he used, then. "His parents had him home for a week, and he returned…calmer than when he left. After that, he still pretends that night never happened at all. I think some part of him calcified in those moments Lucretia had him—so much fury and pain, and then it was gone."
I had to wonder where that pain went. Where he'd managed put it all.
"I'm not sure what I expected to learn of this," I said. "But it wasn't all that…"
"You shouldn't tell anyone I told you this," Theseus said. "I don't think Atrius would've wanted me to tell you. I only did it now because… well, it's not exactly something anyone would want to waltz right up and talk to you about. You're talking to Atrius again, I think we've all taken that as some sort of sign."
"You shouldn't. It's not a sign of anything. There's nothing between Atrius and me to reconcile, there never was. We weren't even friends back then, it's what made it so easy to be afraid of him—I don't know that there won't always be a part of me that is," I said. "Thank you for telling me, though. I won't tell anyone we had this talk. I wouldn't want to know how Atrius would punish you anyway."
"Yeah, you never know," Theseus said. "You never know anything with Atrius Malfoy."
Picturing his breakdown as I wrote it, I felt so sorry for Atrius. Being the author, I know what happened when he went home (the conversation he had with his father about it)—I already know that Evie will be meeting Draco down the line, so I'm really excited to write that interaction. I'm more-or-less pantsing this as I go with some details filled in, and lately I've been thinking extra hard about how Draco would've felt when he heard what Atrius did. Or how Atrius now feels about Evie being so afraid of him.
But anyway—thank you to everybody that's been reading/following, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Even though it was a little bit sad.
