It seemed like a matter of moments before Stan was shaking her awake. "Rise n' shine, sleeping beauty! An' if i' snot too much to say, you look fabulous with bed head." Eva sat up groggily. "Coffee?" asked Stan cheerily, holding up a steaming mug. "No thanks. Are we there already?" "Yeah, Hogsmeade. Hope you don' mind, but it's the start of term, so there'll be a bunch of mad students running around." "That's fine. You wouldn't happen to have a copy of The Daily Prophet with you, would you, Stan?" "S'matter of fact, I do," Stan replied, running up to the front of the bus, and returning a few moments later with a rumpled looking newspaper. "You can have it," he added, turning slightly red and inspecting his shoes. "I'll see you aroun', right? If you ever wan' to chat, or sumffing." Eva grabbed her suitcase and turned away from him, pretending that she was fixing the clasp so he would get discouraged and walk away. She knew he wouldn't, but it was still worth a shot. Sure enough, when she turned 'round, Stan was still standing there, a crestfallen expression on his face. "Don't look at me like that Stan," she snapped, shouldering past him. "I'm nearly eight years older than you."
Stan folded his arms crossly. "S'not that old. How come you never let me take you out fer a drink, eh?" Eva turned red, and paused, turning to glare at him. "Because…" she began, then cleared her throat and sighed in frustration. "Stan, this really isn't the time. You're a good kid, really, but I'm just not…I'm just not for you." Then she turned and, with a little wave to Ernie, sprinted toward The Three Broomsticks, her suitcase bumping against her thighs. Stan made a frustrated noise in his throat. Ernie shook his head and started up the engine again. "She's a flame, that one. She's been through a lot. Ain't no one ever gonna tie 'er down."
Eva trudged down the street, dragging her suitcase behind her and trying to quell the rage that was boiling inside her for no apparent reason. Unable to find words to describe her annoyance, she kicked a lamppost, which emitted a shrill squeak. She gave it several more kicks for good measure. "Are you alright?" a male voice inquired, and she felt someone tap her lightly on the shoulder. She flinched at the human contact, and slapped the hand away irritably. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Not that it's any of your business." The man raised an eyebrow over a pair of gray-blue eyes. His light brown hair was streaked with gray, although his face suggested that he wasn't as old as he looked. His clothes were rather worn and shabby looking. "Sorry I asked," he replied. "By the way," he added, "your suitcase is open." Eva stooped and began shoving her belongings back in, feeling considerably irritated. The man bent down to help her, handing her socks and shirts. He held up one of the black and white photos and watched the two adolescents dart in and out of the picture's border. "Is this you?" he asked, pointing to the girl in the photograph. "Yes," Eva replied shortly, holding out her hand to take the photo from him. He held it away from her, still inspecting it. "Is that…Liam? Liam Keating?" "Give me that!" Eva demanded hotly. "He was an excellent chaser. I watched him, a couple times, after I graduated. Do you know him?" Eva snatched the photo and shoved it inside her suitcase. "If I did, I wouldn't tell a stranger I just met on the street." She began heaving the suitcase down the street, her rage making thin cracks across the pavement wherever she stepped.
When she finally reached The Hog's Head she paid for a room, and ordered a glass of rum. Her rage cooled somewhat, she thought back on the conversation (if you could call it a conversation) that she had had with the wizard on the street. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn't place it, and in the end she simply gave up. How could he have known…?
She put her head in her hands. No, she wasn't going to go there. He's gone, he's never coming back. She let out a groan of frustration. "I hate it here," she mumbled into her palms. "'Scuse me, ma'am?" inquired a voice.
Eva raised her head. The bartender held out another glass of rum. Eva stared at him, puzzled. "I haven't paid for another one," she said, pushing the glass away. The bartender thrust it at her again. "No need to. That gentleman over there has just offered to pay." Eva frowned, and craned her neck to see who the bartender was pointing at. The brown-haired wizard she'd met on the street waved at her sheepishly. Eva opened her mouth to begin the usual tirade that followed being courted in any way, but the wizard strode over and put a finger across her lips, which (she hated to admit) didn't feel so bad. "Hear me out, alright? I just want to apologize for being so prying, and ask you a few questions." She took a step away from him and folded her arms. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in relationships." A blush spread across the wizard's pale cheeks. "No, I think you misunderstand me. Merely a courtesy I wished to extend, for…ah…" He looked so uncomfortable that she nodded curtly, and gestured for him to sit. "Remus Lupin," he said, extending a hand. "Evalyn Murdock," she replied, shaking it. "You went to Hogwarts?" she asked, taking a sip of her rum. He nodded. "Gryffindor. Graduated in '78. What about you?"
"Ravenclaw; graduated '91." She bit her lip, frowning slightly. "What did you say your surname was?"
"Lupin."
"Ah, the lycanthrope. You taught at Hogwarts for a time, yes?"
"For a time, yes. I should have guessed that word would get around," he added wryly.
"Ah, well." Eva shrugged. "Your reputation precedes you."
"I suppose it does." He peered at her over a glass of brandy. "You look somewhat familiar. Do you work in the Ministry at all?" Eva swirled her rum around in her cup. "I did, for a little bit."
"What department?" prompted Lupin, when she didn't continue. "Magical Law Enforcement, Level Two" muttered Eva, glaring into her glass of rum. "An auror?" Lupin looked surprised. "I'm retired," Eva snapped. "Oh." Lupin looked as if he would have liked to say more, but he merely took another swig of brandy. Eva, anxious to break the awkward silence, started to say something, but was cut off.
"Professor Lupin!" a trio of voices chorused, and several students wearing Hogwarts robes came sprinting over to their table. Two were boys: a tall one with flaming red hair, and a short, skinny one with untidy black hair and glasses. There was a bushy-haired girl with them, clutching a bulging book bag. "What are you doing here?" she inquired, unslinging her bag and rubbing her shoulder. "Who's your friend?" added the red-haired boy, glancing from him to Eva with a bemused, slightly mischievous expression. "Nothing, Hermione. Just having a chat. And really, Ron, we've just met." The spectacled boy said nothing, but looked rather pleased to see Lupin. "Former students?" asked Eva. Lupin grinned. "Ah, yes, of course. This is Ron Weasley--" Lupin waved his hand at the tall redhead, who turned nearly as red as his hair and didn't meet Eva's eyes. "Hermione Granger--" The bushy-haired girl gave Eva a tentative smile. "--and Harry Potter," Lupin finished, putting a hand on the dark-haired boy's shoulder. Eva managed to keep her jaw from dropping, and her eyes flickered momentarily to the lighting shaped scar on Harry's forehead, only just visible behind his bangs. "Er…nice to meet you. Say hello to your father for me, Weasley. I used to know him, back when…" she trailed off and turned to Lupin. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to…I have things to do, and I'm sure you'd like to chat. Goodbye."
Eva slid out of her chair, and stumbled out of the bar. Lupin and the others stared after her. "Does she work with your dad, Ron?" asked Harry. Ron shook his head. "I don't think so." "She used to be an auror, from what I understand," Lupin said quietly, draining his glass. "An auror?" Hermione repeated. "But she looked so young!" "Tonks is an auror too, and she doesn't look much older," Harry argued.
Eva walked down the dingy corridor, wishing she hadn't left so abruptly. She slouched into her room and shut the door behind her, leaning against it heavily. Sitting down in a chair by the smoldering fire, she stared, unseeing, into the embers. Lupin had seemed very keen to talk to her, which was unusual, since all he done was piss her off by prying. "What does he think he's playing at?" she fumed, drumming her fingers on her knees. The fire let out a loud crack and burst into flames. "Damn it!" she spat, rubbing her singed ankles. "Eva, might I have a word?" asked a female voice. "Sure," said Eva wearily. Dr. Richardson's head suddenly appeared inside the fire. "How are you, dear? Doing alright?" Eva nodded glumly. "Good, good. Have you been taking your Cheering Charms, as I requested?" "Er…not exactly," Eva admitted. Dr. Richardson sighed with frustration, closing her eyes momentarily. "My dear girl, how many times do I have to tell you? You cannot possibly hope to come out of this negative mindset if you do not take steps!" Eva bristled slightly at being called "my dear girl".
"Doctor, I thought I mentioned my reluctance to engage in magical optimism. I would prefer to handle it on my own…" "But you aren't handling it! You need encouragement, Ms. Murdock. It is my job to help--" Eva's temper flared. "I don't need help! I refuse to take artificial happiness, however beneficial it may be!" Dr. Richardson seemed unperturbed, her face calm. "I realize that you are upset, Evalyn. Grief affects us all in different ways, and if you don't mind me saying so, it seems to make you very violent." Eva seized a particularly grotesque porcelain goblin from the nightstand and waved it threateningly. "I'll show you violent, you wretched woman!" Dr. Richardson hardly batted an eyelash. "I shall see you at your next appointment. In the meantime, kindly control your temper." That said, her head vanished from the fireplace, and the fire once again became a pile of glowing ashes. She set the ornamental goblin on the mantel, and then snatched her wand from the nightstand. "Levo Spiritus!" she shouted, and then squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself.
Instantly, a wave of elatedness filled her, swelling like an enormous balloon inside her. She began to giggle hysterically, and then laugh so hard that tears streamed down her face. There was nothing wrong now, nothing wrong at all. Somewhere in the farthest recesses of her mind, Eva knew she had overdone the Cheering Charm. She slid to the ground, cackling maniacally, gasping for breath, her head spinning.
"Liam, you are such a wanker!" shouted a sixteen-year-old Evalyn, dodging a snowball that still managed to clip her shoulder as it flew by. "Say that again!" challenged her friend, a lithe Gryffindor with a pair of hazel eyes and a mouth that was perpetually set at a mocking tilt. The two of them were in a snow covered courtyard, wearing thick woolen scarves and (in her case) a crocheted hat that fit snugly about her head. Her dark hair was sticking out from under it. Eva scrambled up onto a stone bench, threw back her head, and struck a dramatic pose. "Liam Keating is a wanker, and has dung for brains," she announced. He growled and lunged at her. She dodged, leapt off the bench and went tearing down the path, slipping and sliding on the slick stones, screaming in mock terror. Liam sprinted after her, caught her about the waist, and hoisted her over his shoulder as easily as if she were a doll.
Eva didn't bother struggling, she merely propped her head on her hand as if being handled like a sack of potatoes was a common occurrence. "D'you know how much trouble we'll be in if anyone knows we've skipped History of Magic?" Liam grinned and set her down on the bench, running a hand through his untidy chocolate-colored hair. He leaned against a statue of a mermaid blowing a conch, and broke off one of the icicles that were hanging from its elbow, turning it over idly in his hands. "Not much. Professor Binns is too busy droning about some dead warlock or other to notice if a couple of sixth years decide to do something with their afternoon."
Eva snickered and gave his tie a yank. "Oy!" he yelped, jerking away and making a face. "You're Head Girl. You're supposed to be setting a good example." Now it was Eva's turn to make a face. "I'm sick of being a good example. I didn't even want to be Head Girl, anyway!" She wouldn't have told Liam, but this was a subject Eva had been brooding over since their first day back. She began to pace back and forth, her voice rising. "I can't even measure up to my mum's standards. How am I going to measure up to Dumbledore's?" "Why should you care what your mum wants? It's not like she's ever done the same for you." Eva sat down heavily on the bench, and put her head in her hands. Liam sat down beside her, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Sorry, I didn't mean-" "No, you're right. Everyone thinks I'm some sort of joke, that I only got to be Head Girl because-" "Bollocks," snapped Liam. "You're Head Girl because you deserved it. You can think on your feet, and-" "Mr. Keating!" The two sixth years leapt to their feet.
Professor McGonagall was striding up the walk, the look on her face enough to make Liam wince. "What in heaven's name are you doing out here?" she asked, her eyes flashing with fury. Liam pressed himself backward against the mermaid statue. "Er…I was…um…sorry Professor," he mumbled, turning red. "That's not all you're going to be. Twelve points from Gryffindor." Professor McGonagall seemed to just catch sight of Eva, and her expression was both disappointed and angry. "Miss Murdock, I expected more of you. As Head Girl, you are a role model for your house! Fifteen points from Ravenclaw." Eva bowed her head, heat rising to her cheeks. "Both of you are to go straight to class, immediately. I will be sending owls to both your parents-" Liam glanced at Eva, whose face had gone slightly pale "-and you will both have detention." "Yes Professor," they said in unison, before dashing away. McGonagall stared after them and heaved a sigh, before turning herself into a tabby cat and slinking off.
Eva's head was pounding, and she was lying facedown on the floor of her room. She sat up, putting a hand to her throbbing head. The room tilted and spun sickeningly. "Ugh…oh, shit." She dropped to all fours and crawled over to the dresser, which she used to help herself stand up. Note to self: never listen to psychiatrists. Raucous laughter floated up to her from the bar below, and she listened to it wistfully. There was nothing she'd like better than to go numb her brain with alcohol, but something made her hang back. Instead, she began unpacking her suitcase, setting her odd assortment of objects on the dresser, and re-folding the clothes. When she had finished, she took the photo of the boy and girl out of the cedar box, and ran her fingertips lightly over it. Her eyes felt hot, and a sudden lump in her throat was making it hard to swallow. Her eyes remained dry, however, as she stared at the photograph. "I miss you, you know," she whispered to it. "God, I miss you so much." She set the photo down on the dresser again, and descended to the bottom floor, where it was noisy enough for her thoughts to be drowned out.