A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own HP, or its characters. Evelyn is all mine, and I wont give her up!

Evie POV

By the end of October, I was sufficiently annoyed and frustrated - both sexually and academically. My classes were getting harder; I didn't realise how difficult the mechanics behind Transfiguration actually were. It was pretty easy turning a quill into a pot, but morphing the back half of a lizard into a pen, and changing the colour of the front part of it was by far the most difficult thing I had ever attempted all year.

My first attempt at this particularly thorny spell ended up with half of my table turning into molten silver, and the lizard itself shuffling away to hide for its life. I spent the rest of my lesson trying to find the little bastard, and by the time that I did, class was over and done with. Evidently it was going to take more than a one-hit wonder, like the vinegar-to-wine show that I did in Charms, and that fact was driving me crazy.

Now, the sexually bit came in because ever since Madam Pomfrey told Draco and Blaise that I was becoming more fertile, they refused to so much as sleep in the same bed as me, let alone actually touch me long enough to fuck me. And it was driving me nuts.

Honestly, I wasn't asking for much - I just wanted a kiss, once in a while, and the odd hand-hold. Nothing major. And yet, they wouldn't do anything to me, and I felt like maybe there was something wrong with me.

I couldn't help it.

Every morning I would open my eyes, in our big, empty bed, on my lonesome, and I would feel my eyes fill with tears that I couldn't let fall. I would wrap my arms around my body, with my bottom lip sucked between my teeth, and just.. Stew in my bad feelings, while they slept in the living room, as Vylet wouldn't let them into the spare room, as it was mine.

That didn't make me feel any better, to be truthful.

I didn't realise I was frowning so deeply until Pansy pressed her hand on the crook of my bare elbow, and asked, "Are you feeling okay, Evie?"

Blinking up at her, I replied, distractedly, "Yeah.. Just tired, I guess."

Blaise gave an incredulous stare from his seat on the Slytherin breakfast table, opposite both of us. He quirked his brow, minutely, but said nothing, and went back to reading his newspaper.

Draco wasn't present; he was sending his parents a letter in the owlry, and said he would join us later on in the morning. I was a little worried, but I couldn't encroach on his personal time with his parents, no matter how much I wanted to talk to them myself.

Gnawing on my lip, slightly, I said, detachedly, feeling a little hollow inside for some reason, "I'm going to go ahead. I'm a little," I waved my hands to indicate how messed up my head was, "I'll see you in class."

Pansy frowned, but didn't question me, and Blaise went to stand, but at my withering stare, he sat back down, hurt blooming in his gorgeous indigo orbs. I couldn't bear to look at him any longer, and I swept out of the Great Hall, and almost ran outside into the Quad, trying to catch my breath and calm myself down enough to just.. Think.

"Hey," a voice echoed through the arena, and I glanced up to see Harry's bright green eyes hidden behind his circular, spindly glasses, "Are you feeling alright, Evelyn?"

His British twang was ever-present, and I found myself smiling, faintly, at the familiarity of the sound. I replied, robotically, "I'm fine."

He grinned, but there was a hardness that I was all to familiar with, and stated, acerbically, "Yeah, I'm sure."

Sliding down the cement pillar, and sitting on the cool grass, I hit my head against the column, and sighed, my breath puffing out in front of me like wisps of grey air. He shuffled besides me, quietly, and thankfully, said nothing. Almost involuntarily, I relaxed my head on his soft shoulder, and found a warm familiarity about his soothing magic as it enveloped my entire being.

He'd been through some tough shit in his life, and he'd overcome it. Hell, he'd killed the wizarding world's most dangerous psychopath when he had only been seventeen. If anyone was a role model for me, it was him, although I don't believe he would like to hear that. He didn't strike me as the arrogantly proud type. That was more of Ronald's niche, I suppose.

He stated, casually, "You look really sad," and reached over my small frame, and placed his hand on my shoulder, pulling me close.

I asked, curiously, my nose blushing bright red at the change in temperature, "Why are you trusting me? Your friends don't."

He chuckled, bitterly, "I think I'm old enough to choose who I'm friends with, don't you?"

"I suppose."

He peered down at me, "Why are you here with me? Your friends would curse me into next year if they even thought you were near me alone."

I smirked, coolly, "They'd have to go through me first, buddy."

He stared at me, blankly, for a moment, before a friendly, calming gleam overtook his eyes, and he sighed, "Monday's are the worst, don't you think? I'm so bloody tired," he pulled off his glasses, and rubbed his emerald eyes, in a huff. I laughed, into my palm, and commented, "Late Sundays went out the window as soon as the school year started."

He gave me a subdued grin, and questioned, "You're really talented at Charms. Would you mind helping me out?"

Quirking my brow at him, I asked, "Don't you have the school bookworm in your arsenal?"

He laughed, loudly, and said, "'Mione? She's.. She's focused on other stuff right now?"

"You mean the taste of Weasley's tonsils?"

He blanched, but said nothing else, and I laughed, "Don't worry about it. She'll get over the Honeymoon phase."

He pursed his lips, fractionally, and said, almost as an afterthought, "I don't think I want them to. It'll make it awkward when I tell them I'm with Dean," then his entire body froze with the admission. I turned to look at him, and asked, "You didn't mean to tell me that, huh?"

He shook his head, his eyes filled with nothing but fear, and he pleaded, "Don't tell anyone, please. I'm begging you."

I frowned, a little, at the anxiety in his tone, and stated, honestly, "Why would I tell anyone? Who you're with isn't any of my business."

His brows furrowed, in confusion, and he asked, "You don't care?"

"Not really, Harry."

He grinned, then, and admitted, "I.. You're nothing like anyone else I've ever met."

Shrugging, exaggeratedly, I gave him a half-smile, and said, "I aim to please, Harry, my dear."

He laughed, and released my shoulder, before bumping the other with his own. He said, "Let's get to class. Flitwick isn't known for being nice."

"He likes me."

He mocked my words, before muttering, good-naturedly, "Kiss arse."

-0-

"So what are you wearing to the All Hallows' Eve Ball on Saturday night?"

That was the only question on everyone's lips all week leading up to that wretched dance. I didn't even want to go, and every time I said this, people thought I was attention seeking or lying to myself.

I didn't want to go.

I really fucking didn't.

Spending all night listening to music that I really didn't know, being judged by a countless number of eyes, and wearing a dress that was probably three sizes too small and uncomfortable to all Hell.

"Can we just stay.. Here?," I begged for the thirteenth time in the last hour, on that blessed Friday night, on the sofa, where my mates were sitting on the floor either side of me, as far as they possible could without seeming too rude, their homework parchments splayed out in front of them, creating a sea of endless numerical formulae and literature.

Like the good student I was, I had finished my homework during my lunch breaks that I spent in the library. Blaise sighed, heavily, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and said, "We have to go, Evelyn."

The use of my full name was almost like a lightning bolt through my spinal cord, and I promptly shut the fuck up. He wasn't necessarily angry. I didn't even think Blaise could be mad at anyone, let alone me, however I could tell from the stiffness in his shoulders that he just was stressed out about school. I asked, quietly, "I'll go upstairs.. Are you coming up tonight?"

I couldn't stop the hopefulness that weeded its way into my tone. Draco bit his lip, and looked over at Blaise, who shook his head, resolutely. The blonde said, sternly, "You know we cant, Evie. We cant.."

I interrupted, unable to hear his excuses, "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow," and quickly sped up the stairs, collapsing on my cool bed, after undressing, chaotically, and curled up in on myself, feeling like an accosted child.

00

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