THIRTYFIVE
Expulsion was surprisingly, and perhaps rather unwisely, absent from Eve's mind when she finally crawled out the tunnel of the Hufflepuff common room. The clocktower had just struck the 16th hour, but it had already been some time since Eve had heard the distant sound of the last rush of student murmur out of the castle walls. The game had started, and she seemed alone.
'Seemed' was the word that echoed through Eve's thoughts with the clamor of her boots against the stone of the corridor. To be alone, actually and undoubtedly alone at Hogwarts in a time like this was a rarity, if not entirely an impossibility.
Eve was sure Dolores Umbridge was out on those quidditch sidelines as she moved because it was her job to be there, as overthrown headmaster and Ministry spy alike. But that didn't mean the professor wouldn't leave something behind when she left. Magical booby traps, student gangs, Filch's spirited defense, these were all things she had to think about now as she endeavored for her most unreasonable act of troublemaking yet.
But where was George?
Eve realized now that they had never officiated a meeting spot the last time they had spoken of their plans together. There had actually been far less talking the last time they had spoken at all. Teenage hormones had taken reins on any type of blueprint making for what was to come of their wild plan of breaking into the pink palace of pain, in fact.
My plan, Eve corrected herself, although she knew her accomplice well enough to know he would be swift to fill in the empty pieces. She was dealing with a professional after all.
Eve climbed the passageway stairwell, making note of the low cry of unremarkable creaks and drafts in the air as if she could attempt to distinguish a warning amongst the loose and unsettled magic of the castle.
It was not a student crime for her to be walking amongst the castle corridors, but still, in the midst of her planned misbehavior, every footstep felt like a call from either a friend or foe.
And in this moment of her thoughts, a ring of footsteps grew in the distance, soft but soundly multiple clamors of feet walking from an opposite corner of the corridor and heading straight into Eve's direction.
Eve felt her feet halt from their pace, and as she realized her body had decided to brace for confrontation, she reached for her left hip, where her wand was hidden under her sweater.
As the noises grew closer, they began to form into the drone of soft voices, a buzz of conversation that showed no distinct indication of caution or vigilance. There was a short laugh, high and adolescent, just as the gang came into view.
Four students turned the corridor and into Eve's direct eye line, all with books in hand and undistinguished faces that indicated years far below her. They each gave Eve a raised glance as they passed, perhaps questioning her strange unmoved figure and alarmed features. Eve sighed and dropped her hand from her hip.
"Do you have some sort of fear of first years I don't know about?"
George stood at the very end of the corridor, casual in his stance but entirely unnoticed by Eve until that very moment.
This was something George Weasley was very good at. Exceptional even. To never be the first one seen. The boy was skilled at appearing out of nowhere when he wanted to, and in the most casual, unremarkable fashion, as if he had been at that exact place and moment the whole time. Eve still wasn't used to it, but she was surely unsurprised to see him. A soft grin formed on her expression as she finally moved towards him.
"You're nervous," George stated as he watched Eve draw closer, his tone coming out playful but still kind in his George way.
"I'm perfectly fine," Eve replied flatly, although she eagerly accepted George's now outreached arm, filling her place in his chest, and immediately feeling the tension of the prior moment drain from her recollection. His arm wrapped around her torso, stopping just as his fingers grazed the bone of her hip.
"Armed and ready, I see," George said with a light laugh, his hand tracing the outline of Eve's wand from over her sweater. Eve grinned and pulled gently from his grasp, their eyes meeting in playful comfort.
"Please tell me you've got a plan," Eve said, her grin faltering to a far wearier of an expression for George. The boy raised a brow, but his smile did not fall.
"Well, I supposed we'd just stroll in there and have a rummage through her drawers," George shrugged.
"Surely you can't be serious," Eve replied, her face falling completely now to gape at the boy and his choice of strategy.
"Surely you can trust me by now," George countered, his voice taking the same astonished tone as Eve's, causing the girl to close her mouth again and roll her eyes.
"I'd say it's debatable," Eve shrugged.
"Well, since we are on a bit of a time restraint, I'll accept 'debatable'," George grinned, tugging on Eve's arm and pulling her in once again.
But before his lips could connect with her face, Eve turned completely, his lips making contact with the side of her head, while her arms pulled her apart from his embrace.
"No distractions until the task is complete," Eve said, her voice flat and her expression stern. George frowned but accepted their disconnected arms.
"And how else are we supposed to boost morale, then? This is a dangerous mission, you know," George asked.
Eve shrugged, before raising her right hand, exposing her palm to George's eye line.
"High five?" Eve offered with a shrug, but George did not move with her words, either in expression nor in gesture.
"What am I supposed to do with that?" George asked, sincere puzzlement on his face as he glanced between Eve's hand and her thoughtful expression.
"You slap my hand with yours. It's a muggle thing," Eve said.
George's eyes raised slightly, his mouth upturning to form the expression of a silent "Ohhhh" before he raised his hand too. With her instruction, he slapped his hand on hers, somewhat clumsily and off-centered, a worthy mistake for anyone who had just learned what a high five was at the age of seventeen.
"I'd much prefer snogging over that," George muttered, his eyes turning to the corridor behind them. He gestured towards the distance ahead, and Eve grinned.
"Let's go get my ring back," Eve said, pushing the two of them along with a tug at George's sweater.
"And hopefully my dignity after that high five," George replied.
"Well, that's up to that excellent plan of yours," Eve said, glancing at George and sending him a quick wink, the boy turning away with a slight smile.
The pair continued their journey to the third floor of the castle, where the DADA classroom awaited them, and more specifically, the dwellings of a certain Dolores Umbridge.
Besides the group of unsuspecting first years, Eve and George did not encounter anyone else as they passed from corridor to corridor. Eve tried to not think too much into this positivity, and certainly when she turned to study George, he hadn't thought about it at all. But there was still a nagging feeling of doubt in the clarity of their plans.
Was this really meant to be all this easy?
When the last staircase was ascended, and the view of the large oak doors of the classroom came into view, Eve decided to make one last attempt at transparency.
"You sure this is going to work out?" Eve asked, grabbing ahold of George's arm beside her and causing him to slow his pace alongside her. George turned to Eve, but there was no glimpse of a smile like there had been moments before.
"You know you don't have to do this, right?" George asked his voice low and his tone calm. He steadied his eyes on Eve's, and the girl could see his natural sincerity come through amidst the reckless.
"George, it was my plan."
"And I can take care of it," George said flatly, he turned and glanced at the door ahead for a second. Eve took a moment to do the same.
"I want to go."
George studied Eve's face after she said this, his eyes perhaps searching for the doubt Eve so desperately tried to hide now. He nodded after a moment and turned.
When George turned the knob of the classroom, Eve did not in the slightest expect for the door to open. But it did, easily and without resistance.
"Classroom doors are usually unlocked. Fred and I test them all the time."
George whispered this to Eve as the pair stepped inside the classroom. Eve nodded, but otherwise kept silent, sure at any moment, there would be cause for concern. She followed behind closely and took a glance around the empty classroom.
Row and row they passed of desks, all of which had become individual chairs and tables by this point in the school year. Umbridge couldn't supposedly trust the option of students sitting next to one another. It wasn't like they worked on anything together anyways.
To the left of the classroom was where they were headed, the staircase that would lead to the place of their mission, and Eve's current anxious misery. George started for it first, before stopping in his tracks. For a second, he just stood there, his back turned to Eve in a motionless halt, before he quickly turning back to her.
"You need to be a lookout for me," George whispered.
"What? You're going to go up there alone?" Eve whispered back, her voice far more alarmed and frenzied than his had been, but George made no remark on his expression of having noticed.
"Only one of us needs to go up there. I need you to stay down here and alert me if anyone comes outside the door," George said, his tone stern and unwavering like he had it planned all along.
But Eve knew George enough to know this wasn't true. He had thought of it on the spot, this plan to keep her from going inside Umbridge's office. He was trying to protect her, in his reckless quick-thinking way. As if her in the classroom wasn't enough for trouble to come, and possible expulsion to follow. But Eve also knew, she had no reputable rebuttal to give because it was she that was with the expert. And it was George that she trusted.
So, Eve nodded and watched George climb the stairs. And with the confident turn of the knob, just as he had done moments before, she watched him disappear behind the door. And just as simply, George was now in the office and Eve left at the bottom of the stairs.
Nothing could be heard in these first few minutes alone. Eve heard silence from the office above, which was both comforting and unnerving for her, as she turned her attention to the classroom in front of her.
Without students, the classroom could have been passed for one of the abandoned classrooms that filled the corridors all throughout the castle. Umbridge had emptied anything that resembled magic or knowledge in the room. Every fossil and book put away. Anything worth the sanctity of the subject gone from view.
Maybe that was why Umbridge didn't lock the classroom, Eve thought, there was nothing left worthy of taking.
Umbridge had already taken it all.
Minutes passed like this, and still, the unwavering silence remained. Eve turned to glance at the door above her, where she imagined George now, scrambling through drawers under the gaze of two dozen imprisoned kittens. Had he gotten them to stop meowing? Or maybe he was too busy still looking. Had he even gotten close to finding it? Even with all the times she had visited the office, she couldn't remember now how many possible hiding places the woman had in there.
Eve turned away again from the stairwell, sure that her anxiety would not get the best of her. She was meant to be the lookout, no matter how useless the task may be. If George wanted her to stand there, in the company of the chalkboard and empty desks, she would do it. After all, the least she could do in getting the boy wrapped up in all this was to follow his directions. And so far, everything was going to plan.
And then, in that moment of calm clarity, the silence was quickly disrupted.
The echo of a deep boom sounded throughout the classroom, and Eve was sure, when she quickly whipped her body to turn, that the sound had come from the upstairs office, where George had been safe and sound only a second before. But in this quick reaction, Eve stubbled in her stance, and her back harshly bumped the chalkboard beside her.
And in another disastrous moment, the boom in the office was followed by the horrendous thud of the chalkboard wabbling coming down in a perfect faceplant on the stoned classroom floor. Eve watched this all with quiet shock, her mouth gaping as she listened to the echoes that followed the fall. How did this all just happen? Was this a sick dream?
But reality struck her just as quickly, and with one sweeping motion, Eve grabbed the chalkboard and set it back on its feet. And then she turned to face the first disaster, which still gave no sign of reason from behind the office door.
Eve was not sure at that moment that it was proper lookout protocol, but she scrambled up the stairs anyways, hastily turning the knob and throwing herself inside the office.
There, standing in the middle of the pink room, was George, his hands desperately trying to wipe a black substance that covered his face and chest. Eve quickly closed the door behind her, and the sound seemingly indicated to the temporarily blinded boy that he was not alone anymore.
"Out of all the things she magically boobytrapped, it was her fucking ink drawer."
If there was anything that can overcome anxiety, it was reckless adrenaline. Eve understood that much, in her time with George. Pulling the sleeves of her sweater, Eve rushed to George's side, taking his face in her hands.
"Don't open your eyes, George, please," Eve said, somehow finding some sort of steady calmness to counter the panic she knew George was uncovering. The boy obeyed quickly, settling his face, and allowing Eve to begin to wipe his eyes with her sleeves.
"I'm afraid to ask what happened out there," George muttered, as his face began to appear under the black sheen of ink. Eve sighed and gave a hastily shake of her head, although George couldn't see it.
"I got startled by your accident and created my own," Eve said.
Eve took her hands away from George's face for a moment, and the boy gently opened his eyes. He blinked a few times for his eyes, testing the haze, before landing on Eve.
"What a team we are," George said, and for a second, Eve could see a small grin begin to grow on his face. But with eyesight now, catastrophe mode struck the boy in an instant, and the professional troublemaker sprung into gear.
With the flick of his wand, the ink that had exploded around him instantly disappeared. A collective sigh of relief followed from the pair, thankful that Professor Umbridge would never allow permanent damage to arise in her precious pink abode.
"Forget the ring, we need to get out of here," Eve said, turning in the direction of the door in front of them, as George lingered in cleaning up his mess.
Amidst the scrabbling, Eve heard the distinctly loud creak of a door off in the distance. She quickly turned and hushed George, who nodded and closed the last rummaged drawer in front of him.
Eve crept to the door, George quickly following suit, the pair desperately clinging for the sounds that followed in the classroom below them.
They could hear footsteps, loud and unrestrained, and after another moment, voices could be made out.
"I'm sure it came from here!"
"I don't see anything."
"Well, keep looking around, idiot."
Eve turned to glance at George, who returned a look.
"Malfoy," He mouthed, before diverting his attention back to the door.
The silence of voices was followed by the loud scrambling of footsteps, as Eve assumed the classroom was searched by the Slytherin Inquisitor Squad. Eve felt a squeeze on her arm and she realized for a moment that George had put his arm around her.
"You don't think someone is up in the office, do you?"
There was a brief pause after the question, and Eve held her breath, waiting for the Slytherins to decide on her fate. She turned to George for a moment and raised her hand to his ink-stained face. The boy looked back at her, slightly confused by not exactly alarmed. Eve gently lowered his face to hers and kissed him, harshly and without time.
"For morale," Eve whispered.
George grinned and nodded, before turning back to the door.
"You seriously think a student could just easily get into Umbridge's office?"
Eve could tell the tone was Malfoy's and she knew the nastiness of the Slytherin enough to know the question was only cruelly rhetorical.
"Maybe we should check the fourth floor."
Words were exchanged after this comment, and after a minute or two, footsteps followed and then the slam of a door.
They were alone again.
A sigh emitted immediately from Eve's lips, and she ran an ink-stained hand through her hair. She heard George let out a short laugh from beside her, and she turned to meet his incredulous look.
"Told you it would work out," George breathed, although they both knew neither of them believed the sentiment before this moment. He glanced at the window, perhaps in some sort of casual attempt at cutting through the tension.
"I bet you Gryffindor is already ahead by now."
Eve rolled her eyes.
"With your defense, I highly doubt that," Eve replied. She motioned back to the door.
"Can we go now?"
George nodded and the pair slipped out the office, meeting no awaiting Slytherins at the bottom as they went. George headed for the classroom door first, giving the knob a gentle twist and peaking his head out at the corridor ahead. He nodded and opened the door to let the both of them through.
"George, your face," Eve muttered. It became hyper-aware to Eve now of the state of him.
Her black hands and sleeves she could cover, but George's face and chest were still stained with the black substance. He looked like an absolute train wreck, and if circumstances would have allowed it, Eve would have thought it was possibly the funniest thing she had ever seen.
Eve watched her words mull over George's brain for a moment, as the disaster planner formed yet another strategy in real-time. After a moment, he nodded and grabbed a hold of Eve's hand.
"Are you prepared to run?"
"Do I have a choice?"
He grinned at her reply because they both knew the answer to it.
And so, they ran. Through corridors and countless flights of stairs, ever so often passing unsuspecting students, who gave confused glances at the pair, but had little time to give another look as they flew by.
Soon, the staircases began to merge in Eve's memory, and as they reached the top of another, a particular portrait came into view. Eve knew where they were.
The woman in the frame glanced between George and Eve with alarmed curiosity and slight disgust.
"Dilligrout."
"Did you two wrestle with the giant squid?" The woman asked, ignoring the password, and giving another suspicious glance at the pair.
"Dilligrout."
Even upon repeating himself, the portrait lady did not immediately reply again. Her eyes lingered on Eve for a moment longer, as if trying to place the girl in her student memory, but after another second, the prying was given up and the portrait frame opened.
Eve followed George through a stone tunnel for a few seconds before the room opened into view with shades of crimson and gold. From a corner of the room, a fire burned, illuminating sofas and desk tables adorned with chess sets and abandoned textbooks.
Eve was in the Gryffindor common room.
"Surely it can't be that special."
Eve turned from her gaping to look at George, who had stopped to watch her with an amused expression.
Eve wished now she could tell him of her conversation with her friends from earlier but recognized it perhaps wasn't the time. George still had his painted black.
George motioned her to follow him, and they began to climb one of the sets of stairwells beside them. Eve was sure it would lead to the boy's quarters, but she made no attempt to ask. Technically, they were breaking the rules at that very moment, but Eve had dealt with far worse in that hour for her to care in the slightest of getting caught in a Gryffindor boy's dormitory.
After another set of stairs, George opened to door for Eve, leading her into a large bathroom. Urinals and shower stalls decorated the walls, while a large circular sink filled the middle of the room.
"Don't look so surprised," George laughed, turning again to watch the girl's expression, "You thought I'd take you straight to my bedroom?"
"I actually have no grasp on anything that has happened all in the last hour," Eve replied, and her sincerity caused another laugh to emit from him.
"You have ink on your lips," George said, turning on a sink faucet and letting the water begin to fill.
"Well, you have it everywhere else, so," Eve replied, holding a grin as she reached his side. She let the water run under her fingers, watching as the water turned into a dark gray murk. George left her side, returning only a beat later with a towel in hand.
"We shouldn't have done that," Eve said after a moment. She didn't turn to face George when she said this, but she could feel his gaze over her as he ran water under his towel.
"Maybe we shouldn't have, maybe we should have. There's no point dwelling on it now," George said lowly, and Eve could tell by his tone that he was choosing to be serious now.
"We could have gotten in serious trouble, and it would have been all my fault."
George let out a deep sigh and lifted the towel in his hands.
"Look at me," He said, and Eve obeyed, turning to look up at him with weary eyes.
George raised the towel to Eve's face, gently rubbing where Eve assumed the remnants of their last kiss had been. For a minute or so, they stood in silence together.
"You wanted something back that was yours. There's no crime in that. Not when the system is already corrupt," George said finally, removing the towel from her lips and taking the time to study her face again.
"You know what I think?" George continued.
"What?" Eve asked.
"I think you've always been a rebel; you just had no way of showing it before."
Eve thought over his words carefully, watching the sincerity in his face grow and a smile accompanied along with it. She grinned and took the towel from his grasp.
"Maybe you're right," Eve said, reaching now to clean the ink off his face with gentle swipes.
"I'm hardly ever wrong, you know," George replied. Eve wiped one of his eyebrows and said nothing.
"My mum's going to kill me for this sweater," George said after a minute or two of silence, turning away from Eve for a second to glance at his stained self.
Eve sighed and glanced at the sleaves of her own sweater.
"I suppose they're ruined," Eve replied.
"And evidence," George finished.
At once Eve's eyes lit up and she let out a short shriek-like sound. She dropped the towel onto the floor and brought her hands to her waist, lifting her sweater over her head in one sweeping motion.
"Oi, it's not like Umbridge inspects the boy's bathrooms," George laughed.
"We should burn it," Eve said, "I know a spell."
George laughed again but seemed all too amused in the situation to fight it. In her same motions, George raised his sweater to his chest and peeled it off of him, throwing the stained wool at Eve in a playful toss. Eve caught it and held both remnants of their crime in her hands.
"Stand back," Eve said, and George nodded, creating a distance between them, in which Eve threw the sweaters in the middle.
"Incendio."
At once, flames emitted from the sweaters, fast and full. George watched, taking another final swipe of his face before throwing his towel in as well.
"Campfire. Very romantic," George remarked with a laugh, glancing between the fire and Eve. His eyes lingered on her exposed torso for a moment longer, before turning back to the flames. Somehow, it had just become starkly aware to Eve that they both were shirtless.
In another minute, the garments decayed into a pile of ash and Eve watched the spelled flames reduce out of existence.
"Well, that's taken care of," Eve sighed, waving her wand, and levitating the ash into a nearby toilet. With a flush and a great sigh of relief, she turned back to George.
"You know, I do happen to believe," George said, casually glancing at his naked wrist with a tone of professionalism, "That it might be time for distractions."
Eve grinned, slowly walking back to George's side, as if even more anticipation was needed for the moment. But she offered no rebuttal to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Their lips collided, slowly and tenderly, far from the sloppy desperation that was filled in the last kiss they shared together. George's hands wrapped around Eve's torso, taking liberty in the exposed skin, and causing goosebumps to erupt in the naked space.
As time passed, although for Eve it could have stopped completely, the kisses between them grew longer and deeper. It was passion and warmth, guided on comfort and relief of their time together saved for another day.
Eve felt George's hands graze her bum and in one quick motion, he lifted her onto the sink counter, her back pressing on the cold tile in shivering delight. Eve pulled away from George after a moment, and the boy was quick to reattach his lips to the space of her neck, leaving tender bites as he went.
"George," Eve breathed out, reaching a hand to cup his exposed cheek from her neck.
"Yeah?" He responded in a low breath, his lips still busy amongst his reply.
"Can I borrow a sweater?"
A light laugh tickled Eve's neck as she asked this, and she felt another few kisses placed where the warmth was left.
"Yeah, I have plenty in my bedroom."
Eve paused at his mindless reply, smiling as the kisses continued amidst the conversation. She turned her head ever so slightly to come close to his ear.
"Can you show me?"
At her words, his kisses stopped, but it was only so he could pull her off the sink.
Author's Note: 200 followers and over a 100,000 words! What the fuck! Thanks for reading!
