THIRTYNINE

Hour long detentions after class. Passed around sighs and grimaces. Fresh blood over newly sealed scars. That was what the weeks following the reveal of the DA were like.

Dumbledore had appeared from the shadows to take the fall for the group's formation, easily enough with his name certified in the title. But that didn't mean Umbridge didn't take the time to schedule her own punishment for the members involved in the army of schoolchildren.

By the second week, Eve believed perhaps expulsion would have been better than the mess that followed that evening of the Room of Requirement blowing into smithereens. She hated the way the badged gang of Slytherins found her every day to escort her to detention. Or the way Umbridge would grin every time she caught eyes with her between lines. When the cut hit deep enough to bleed, Eve was sure she could hear the murmur of Umbridge's giggle from the front of the classroom.

Hate.

That was the word Eve became well acquainted with this year. And in the past two weeks, Eve had grown to be best friends with it. Hate woke up with her every morning and followed her between classes and lunchtimes until the time would come when it would sit deep within her on those evenings in the DADA classroom. It was perhaps all she felt, all she could possibly fill her time and energy with. She had never felt something like it before. And perhaps, in a way, it scared her. But it was also, perhaps, the only thing stopping her from filling that very space with tears and anguish. If she wasn't meant to accept defeat, how else was she meant to fight back?

All she had left was the hate.

Eve knew there was a strange shift within her when she drifted into the library on a Friday afternoon. Only in the direst of circumstances did she find herself in the ancient bookish prison, and most of the time, it was only when the anxiety of exams reached the peak of their spiral. But Eve had no exams and no classes to attend for the next few weeks, and most of all, Umbridge had canceled her last detention on account of serious Ministry matters.

And yet, instead of celebrating the start of the Easter holidays, or at least enjoying the rest of the day in the spring afternoon sun, Eve found herself alone, in a place she had spent years only visiting in the most desperate of adolescent circumstances.

But maybe that was the point.

Maybe she was searching for something new, something yet not discovered in the corners of the castle she so historically left uncovered. But where actually would the answers to her problems be now? In the thousands of books that covered these ancient walls? She glanced at the spines as she passed shelf after shelf. They were old and torn and nothing of interest to her.

What did ancient wizards know of her troubles anyways?

Since when were teenage girls the object of study? Or the targets of war?

What book would lead her to understand why it was that people hated her? And that the adults who were meant to care for her now worked to hurt her? And where was she expected to read about how you were meant to tell a teenage boy that he was the only thing you cared about in the midst of this adult made disarray?

There was no spell that could help her resolve the troubles of the world. There was nothing that could steal the hate away from the people that terrorized her.

And there was certainly no potion that could force her to understand what it was that made George Weasley the sole of her wants amidst all this chaos.

Eve reached for the spine of a book in front of her, reading the cover and then turning it over aimlessly to leaf through the papers. The words could have been German to her; it sparked no interest in Eve at the moment, as it made no difference to her thoughts.

She really was a stranger to this part of the castle.

"Eve."

His voice was low and remarkably calm, as if, uncharacteristic to his nature, he had been mindful not to scare her.

Eve turned, finding George leaning beside the bookcase in front of her, his arms folded at his chest as he studied her with a curious eye.

"Hundreds of rooms in this castle, and you somehow find me in the library," Eve observed, making sure to exaggerate her raised suspicion, although she could feel a smile beg to creep in all the same. George made no note to hide his grin.

"I have my ways," he replied as casually as could be, his grin only widening as Eve began to make her way towards him.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that," Eve murmured, closing the space between them as her arms enveloped his shoulders.

George's hands found a place around Eve's waist with ease. Their lips were last to connect, gentle and slow in pace, the motions intertwined with light brushes of hands in hair and tugs at clothed waists.

Eve thought for a moment of their first kiss, alone and in the eerie shadows of the castle. How long ago that seemed, the nerves and the nuances feeling like past acquaintances now as Eve stood in comfortable ease in George's arms. Somehow in the time since, the kisses and the sighs had become second nature between them, and Eve couldn't figure out when that exactly began. Or how. Or what would become of it.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," George finally said, braking apart from Eve and trailing his hands from her waist and up her shoulders, following the length of her arms until his hands rested on her forearms, where he gave the bare skin a light squeeze.

"I saw you last night," Eve corrected, a grin settling on her despite the memory of last night's evening with Umbridge.

"I don't exactly regard detention as quality time with my girlfriend."

George's words graced his lips so casually and unassuming, but as he watched Eve's expression grow with alarm, a grin began to form on his face, alerting Eve that he knew exactly what he had done. Or said. Or done by having said.

"What? Have I got something on my face?" George asked, taking the time to reach for his face in theatric concern, but Eve swiped his hand away before he could start the performance.

"You haven't said that before," Eve noted plainly, her mouth still gaping as her expression showed no reaction to the word other than mild alarm.

"Yes, I was just waiting for the perfect moment to shock you into stunned disbelief. I haven't seen that face since I told you I hadn't heard of those Spiced Girls," George replied, his tone now becoming playful condescension as he began to downplay the unfolding situation.

Leave it to George to wrap up a serious conversation into an unsuspecting word bomb. Eve managed to collect herself quickly after this thought.

"It's just Spice Girls. And "stunned disbelief"? Don't be dramatic," Eve said, rolling her eyes for theatrical effect as George let out a short snort.

Immediately, his eyes began to bulge, and his mouth flailed open to reveal, what Eve correctly assumed, what her face looked like only moments ago. She rolled her eyes again and released her arms from his shoulders to cross them at her chest.

"Can't you just be normal about anything?"

George huffed, his expression falling slightly; although Eve could see from his upturned mouth, he still found the conversation amusing enough.

"I was only trying to make you laugh. How was I supposed to know you'd have a heart attack?" George reasoned, reaching to give her shoulders a shake, although Eve stood her place.

"Mr. Weasley! Never has it been a pleasant sight or sound to find you in here!"

Eve noticed the tiny point of Madam Pince's hat before the actual face of the librarian came into view. And when the woman saw Eve poke her head from behind George's tall frame, she continued in her defaming.

"A thousand corners in this castle to flirt with these poor girls, and you pick bookshelves!"

George sighed and turned towards the woman, his expression flat and disinterested as if a yelling adult could only be of the most minor of inconveniences to him.

"We're not flirting; we're fighting."

Madam Pince's mouth hung loose on her countenance, the woman seemingly finding no competent response for such an incompetent reply. Eve took this as their cue to exit.

"Sorry, Madam Pince," Eve mumbled, her hand reaching for her mouth to cover the giggling steadily erupting from within her.

Eve made a quick beeline to the wooden doors, passing the endless rows of shelves and student tables as she went. The echo of George's steps was close behind.

"You've seriously just disregarded all levels of authority at this point, haven't you?" Eve asked, turning to George the moment the library doors shut behind them.

"Made you laugh, though, didn't I?" George grinned, reaching for the small of Eve's waist. This time, she didn't protest.

"Rumor has it," he continued, his face inching closer to Eve's and his voice drawing into a whisper, "Hogwarts is Umbridge free."

"Now these are the romantic musings I wanted to hear," Eve grinned, reaching to brush a strand of copper hair from George's face, only for it to fall back into place a second later.

"And here I was thinking that old pink bat was keeping us apart."

The pair shared a smile and then a kiss, eager and far more unrestrained than the one they had shared only moments ago. They broke for a second, and George took a strain of air while Eve reattached her lips to his jaw.

"Eve?"

George's words tickled the length of Eve's neck, but she only replied with a low hum.

"Why were you-"

"OI! Look who Georgie has finally found!"

Eve was beginning to think someone cursed her and George's relationship with never-ending disturbances. As if there was a spell cast on them that wouldn't allow them to be alone for longer than 10-minute intervals.

Or maybe it was just that their entire relationship was confined to a castle with a thousand other people and ghosts within it. And, of course, George's twin brother.

The couple turned their heads, their eyesight working in unison to make out the vision of Fred heading towards them. George let out a deep sigh and dropped his hands from Eve's waist, his arms falling to his sides and his hands slipping into his pockets in painful defeat.

"You had my brother in a right disarray, running around the castle looking for you. He even asked Harry for the map-"

"Freddie, I thought you and Lee were working back in the common room-"

"We were, but then our working led us to other ideas to tackle-"

"As in?"

"Toad truffles-"

"Toad truffles?"

"Yes, toad truffles."

"And where did you get toad truffles?"

"Lee's cousin, he brought them back from Christmas break."

"You two were meant to be working on, well, you know-"

"And you don't think I can't multitask? Almost eight years of work I've got on my repertoire."

"I thought we were taking a break from mischief-"

"Hi, hello. I'm still here," Eve chimed.

"Sorry," George sighed, tossing Eve a quick glance.

"And taking a break we are," Fred continued, his tone reassuring, although a grin began to grow on his face, and his eyes shot to Eve for a moment.

"What? No pranks?" Eve asked now, glancing between the boys with all genuine concern deserved towards such a proposition made from a Weasley. George shook his head.

"We decided to keep low during the Easter holiday," he explained.

"Yeah, allow the student body to soak up the merriment. Or, in Hermione's case, study," Fred continued.

Eve sent the twins a careful look.

"That's very… mature of you both."

"Well, it is our last year, after all. Always time to turn over a new leaf," Fred grinned. And with this glorious statement, he turned in his heels and started back towards the way he came.

Eve sent George a confused stare, but the boy only shrugged in return. They took Fred's lead and started after him.

"And what's this about toad truffles?" Eve asked, her question directed at neither boy in particular, but they both shared a unanimous laugh at her words.

She felt the warmth of George's hand slip into hers, and immediately, she began to be pulled in a direction out of her control.

"Oh, Eve. I don't know why you ever decided to hang out with us."

Author's Note: Where do I begin? Is anyone even reading this anymore? Sorry if I've lost you, adult life is never ending. Happy autumn, though 3