"Some day I'm going to murder the bugler

Some day they're going to find him dead;

I'll amputate his reveille and step upon it heavily,

And spend the rest of my life in bed."

Irving Berlin

Still Friday, 18 November 1977

"What the fuck was that?" Edmund spewed at the group sitting before him, looking at each and every one of their faces.

"Gamp's expelled, or d'you miss that?" Eoin responded, tossing a slice of steak into his mouth.

"And Kavanagh's a blood traitor, reckon—" But before Cedric could get so much as another word out his mouth, Edmund speared a butter knife into the tabletop. Yes, a butter knife.

"Did you see that?" He barked at all of them. "Did you see that!?" Edmund pointed towards the now empty entrance. "That's why you don't go doing whatever the fuck you want— that's why you bloody listen and do as you're told!"

"No one would have expected Kavanagh—"

"SHUT UP!" Edmund hurled at Evan Rosier. "You don't know anything— you think you do, but you don't! ESPECIALLY YOU, EVAN! The Irish will never take a side in a bloody British war, you fucking idiot! Gamp made herself look like a fool by involving Kavanagh! Kavanagh should've never been involved. Why was Kavanagh there!? She's not a part of this! And still, you band of idiots insist on these stupid little games. Why!?"

Severus bit back a smirk as he observed all of their starstruck expressions.

"Kavanagh—" Cedric attempted again.

"The Irish are to be left alone! ALONE! Do you fucking hear me!?" Edmund placed both hands on the table's edge to steady his breaths, closing his eyes.

But the words had been dealt. Evan heard them loud and clear: you fucking idiot.

His favorite trigger words— everything that had come after had fallen on deaf ears.

Eve was on the bathroom floor, staring down into the toilet water. She was mesmerized by it, analyzing every curve and bend. She had her legs folded out under and to the side, forcing her to lean against the cool porcelain. Her chest rose and fell steadily, and a finger rubbed along the length of the bottle in her hand.

She lifted the vial and let her hand rest along the edge of the toilet seat, staring at it. Against the white walls, she could see that it was still an eighth filled. Still, an eighth. The other one had yet to be opened. The poison held in her hand did not need much, a drop or two at most. Two was usually considered lethal. She wasn't even supposed to dose more than once every 24 hours, yet she had done it more than once.

Eve wrapped the vial into the clutch of her hand and pressed her forehead to the toilet's edge. She had been so sure— she had immediately grabbed the bottles as soon as she returned to the dungeons with Alex, and they had parted ways.

The vial in her hand was the reason she had almost lost everything. It was also the reason that she had been dragged into something horrendous. Hell. She had reached a point where she would do anything to escape reality— and it was no longer the banshee she ran from. It was everything. There had been no voices on Saturday, November 5th; she had just kept on going because no longer could she imagine living any other way. Why would she? It was so much better like this.

But no, it was overtaking her. It had overtaken her. Eve did not even remember who she was before the vial had come to her. All she thought about was it— she cared for little else anymore. It was obvious, wasn't it? She had witnessed someone almost die before her, and she had done nothing to stop it. Eve was not a martyr, but she was no murderer, either.

Eve lifted her head from the toilet edge to look at the miniature glass bottle. Her hands had gone clammy. Hot.

She had been so sure that this was it— this would be the end. She would take whatever was left and flush it down the toilet. Eve had settled with herself that she would rather drown time and time again before she ever took another drop of it. She would learn to live without it so that she was never put in a position where she could have lost all of it.

Just take a drop now, a voice told her.

She knew it would make her feel better— whatever sat heavy in her chest would disappear, and she would be floating again. The world and all its travails would be beneath her. The chase would cease.

What if I only took it when I heard it? Only then, no other time.

She could live with that— she could abide by it. Eve would stash the vials so that she had them just in case. It was a protective measure and nothing else. It could be controlled. Of course, it could. Sure, she had let it get out of hand— but she had learned her lesson. She would rein it back, and there would be rules and conditions. It would be different. Yes, Eve convinced herself, lifting off of the floor and taking both vials into her hand.

She spared a glance at herself in the mirror.

Her face dropped.

It seemed as if it had been so long since she last looked at herself that she had forgotten what she looked like. For whatever reason, when Eve thought of herself, it was always of her 14-year-old self. Except, the person looking back at her in the mirror was not 14 anymore. She had sunken cheeks, shapeless and thin locks of hair, and she could make out the red streaks darting from her pupil. It made her skin crawl, thinking about how easy it would be for her bones to break. She forced herself to smile, but it immediately withered away. It was not the same smile from when she had been 14— it did not reach her eyes.

She looked at the person in the mirror, and it didn't even look like her.

The fingers tightened around the bottles, and she closed her eyes.

Flush it now! A voice shouted at her. Do it now!

Just in case, another fought back.

Eve did not bother to look at herself again, instead walking out of the bathroom with the poison still in hand.

She had been so sure.

Saturday, 19 November 1977

"Finally," a voice drawled from her side as she walked out of the Slytherin common room. One quick glimpse over her shoulder and she had been halted in place. Her eyes narrowed on the body leaning against the wall, a foot propped up, an apple in his hand. He bit down on it, chomping and chewing at its juicy flesh without once relinquishing his stare from her. As her lips began to part, Eve paused, looking back down the empty hall. They were alone. "You know, I've been waiting a very long time."

"For?" Eve asked him, lifting her chin. She wrapped a hand over her stomach, moving slightly to angle herself towards him.

"For you," Evan responded, tilting his head. He dropped the hand that held the apple down to his side. "Been waiting quite a while, actually."

"I didn't know you were waiting for me," Eve returned in a still voice, glimpsing at the half-eaten apple he held. He twisted it around in his hand, its stickiness coating his flesh. She flinched when he abruptly let it go, plummeting to the ground. Her eyes were still on the abandoned fruit as he came forward, clamping the back of her neck into his grasp and pressing his fingers into her skin. That breath never made it to her lungs. It would be forever trapped in the back of her throat. Suffocation. A hand of hers reached to grab his forearm, but Evan continued to push her forward, his grip hardening with every move she made.

Eve knew how to play safely.

It was, once again, time to remain still.

She did not waver. She did not protest.

"Just follow me," Evan demanded once he noticed she had surrendered. He dropped his hand, and they walked side by side.

"Where are we going?"

"I said follow me."

"Evan—"

"Eve."

"I'm not— I don't want to." He spun back around, grabbing her by the same strands Melisende had just torn at the other day, and forcing her to follow him. Once more, Eve relented, following as fast as she could to keep up. Given their difference in length and will, it was a struggle. He rushed and scampered through the dungeon halls as if they had somewhere to be. As if she had missed an appointment.

"Here, we'll play here," he proclaimed. Eve closed her eyes, holding her breath as he opened the door and shoved her into one of the alchemy classrooms. It was the weekend, and no one would step anywhere near it until Monday morning. Evan carefully shut the door behind him, ensuring the sound did not startle or alert any lingering wanderers. Eve sighed as she looked down at his shoes, not a scuff to be found among them.

"Evan, I don't want to play."

"Why not?" Evan asked, turning to look at her.

"We're not children anymore."

"You've forgotten, have you?" He probed, coming closer. His hand clasped her jaw, a thumb rubbing over her cheek. Evan sucked his teeth, shaking his head like a dismayed father. "You've forgotten the rules already?"

"No," she replied under her breath. "I don't like this game."

"You used to like it."

Eve wanted to tell him that she was never actually sure whether she had or hadn't.

"Anyway," he began, letting his hand fall back to his side. "You did something rather terrible, Eve. It's made a lot of people upset. You know?"

"I did what I had to."

"Why? Why'd you do it?"

"They were going to send Aurors," she explained. Evan leaned his head to the side, observing every inch of her face. There was almost a careful, affectionate glimmer softening his features as he listened.

"You were scared?"

"I don't know what would've happened," Eve continued. "I did what I had to."

"You were scared?" Evan repeated.

"Yes."

A hand came down hard on her cheek, leaving the imprint burning her skin. Eve's mouth opened, but she closed it as the sharp pain subsided.

"You went to that bloodtraitor instead of us, of me," Evan started to spew at her. "You helped a mudblood; one of our own is now gone because of you." He bent down to look her in the eye, forcing her to look at him by placing a firm hand on her chin. "We could've helped. We're not nobodies, Eve!" She knew how this went, and it was best to just let him say his piece. Someone had upset him— she knew that. He wouldn't be there, orating a Shakespearean monologue, if someone hadn't. This was not just going to be a game. "You fucked up. Why'd you fuck up?" When she didn't respond, he dug his nails into her skin, breaking its barrier. "Answer me!"

"I don't know." But moving her jaw only enforced the pain from his digging nails to drive deeper.

"You weren't supposed to do that, Eve!" His face was right up against hers. She could feel every breath, every motion. Fuck, she could probably hear his heartbeat, too, if her own wasn't drumming away in her ears. "You did the wrong thing, Eve! Why didn't you listen? Who told you that you could do that!?"

"Nobody!"

"That's right, correct answer," he grinned, the nails that dug into her face released so that it was just the pads of his fingers pressed into her jaw. "One point to Slytherin." Evan brushed his thumb over the cuts he had knifed into her pale cheeks. The act smudged the red carnage over her skin. "Are you going to do as you're told?" Eve nodded. "Good, now, let's play our game, please? Please, Eve?"

"Which one?"

"ATTENTION," he bellowed into her face. She did not move right away. Somehow, she had known it would be this one. It was the worst of them. The angriest. If she did not move soon, it would only ignite him rather than extinguish him. Evan could be extinguished one way and one way only. So, as if it had been ingrained into her, Eve stood straight, her hands folded behind her back. Evan's grin widened as he leaned back, watching. "Very good, Eve, you do remember! We haven't played this one in so long."

Eve did not move. She did not speak. It would happen as it was meant to. It was a game. This was how it was played.

"SALUTE," he commanded, pushing his shoulders back to increase his height. Eve lifted her right arm so that her forearm was placed at as close to a 90-degree angle as she could manage, pointed at her temple. Then, she lowered it.

"STAND FAST," Evan continued, his eyes sparking up as Eve remained still as a statue with a blank stare placed steadily on his neckline.

"ABOUT TURN." She rotated in a clockwise direction until she faced the back of the classroom, bending her left knee and straightening it twice before placing her left foot next to her right, knees locked.

"DRAW SABRE."

She knew this one was not for her, but it was also not in the rules.

They were not supposed to draw sabre if one of them had their back turned.

Before she could react, a force bludgeoned her on the right side of her head, sending her swaying in the same direction.

"I SAID STAND FAST, SOLDIER," Evan commanded, and Eve fell back into line. Her face scrunched up, and her body curled inwards as Evan's hand came back down— this time, his wrist managed to collide with her ear, hitting a nerve that numbed everything from her ear to her brain. Eve ground her teeth, but she only shivered, keeping herself in the same position as best as she could. She knew he was not using all his strength, or she would have been on the ground by now.

"ABOUT TURN," he said. Eve repeated the same motions as before. Once more, she faced Evan. "That was very good, soldier." Eve did not even nod. She had not been given the instruction to do so. Except, the hunger that could be fed with only power grew, intoxicating him with every command, every drill. And Evan was still irate, filled with poison. His teeth ached with the need to bite down on something or someone.

"STAND FAST!"

And, without warning, Evan slammed a whole hand into the right side of Eve's face, one of his rings cutting into her cheek. She was thrown by its force, reaching up to hold the bleeding wound. "No, wrong, soldier. I didn't tell you to stand at ease, did I? Why'd you do that? Not good. You didn't listen." He took her by her neck. The grin that he had before fell into a displeased scowl. Evan lifted her to the tops of her toes, causing her feet to scuttle against the ground. He dragged her to the wall, holding her head very close to the stone. Eve's brows furrowed, eyes rapidly blinking all over his face.

As sickening as his games had been, this was not a part of them.

"I did not make you like this," Evan whispered. "Bad soldier. You're not playing well." Eve looked up at him with wide, teary eyes, much of it an instinctive response to the slashes and bashes she had just received. He held his own breath, intaking all of it. She did not know why he had stopped. To Eve, it seemed as if he had woken up to the fact that he, himself, had stopped playing correctly. But when his eyes narrowed on her, a curl lifting his upper lip, Eve could understand precisely what Evan felt. Much like what she had felt for Melisende Gamp in their last moments together. Apathy. Embarrassment. Sacrilege. She would place a heavy bet that the words pathetic nipped his thoughts.

She closed her eyes as she swallowed down the truth.

"Evan, please."

"Captain," Evan amended. "Very bad, soldier."

He knocked and smashed her head against the wall. Eve began to see stars in her eyes as all the pain, the lack of oxygen, inability to breathe began to overcome her. She would definitely have fallen to the ground, but Evan's grip held her up. She opened her mouth, but he repeated the motion before she could try to reason with him.

"You didn't follow the rules, soldier."

He could not come to— there would be no reasoning done that day. Once more, driven by need, he threw her back against the wall. The ache ripped through her skull, and, at one point, the lights shut off for Eve.

This was a new edition of one of the many little games that Evan had invented.

It was called the Rouse.

A body leaned over her, but she could not make it out, for everything in her head screamed with a heavy, blinding ache. She could barely open her eyes without it searing through her brain. Eve's breath came on staggered, turning her face to the side but flinching as the pain shot up and registered throughout her. The body leaning over her pushed back, sitting on the floor a couple of feet away. Eve closed her eyes, reminding herself to breathe steadily. She knew exactly where she was. She knew exactly what had happened.

"Are you okay?" Severus Snape asked.

"What're you doing here?" Eve rasped, peering out to Severus through lidded eyes.

"I revise here, practice," he explained, sitting on his backside with his knees to his chest. He stared at her without reservation, gulping as he observed her blood-stained cheeks. Eve nodded slowly, turning her focus to the ceiling above. "Do you need to see Pomfrey?"

"No," she told him. "No."

"If you want— I could, I know how to heal that," he offered.

"No."

"Why not?" Severus inquired, bowing his head to look at the damage on her face. But the side of her face that held the most violation was hidden from his view. From where he sat, she seemed somewhat okay. Nothing like what he had just examined when trying to revive her. Eve placed a hand on her stomach, blinking, and then sighed.

"You revived me, didn't you?"

Severus Snape did not have many opinions on Eve Kavanagh. She was quiet but revered— like almost everyone else, he had difficulty understanding how or why. Apart from being a pureblood of the Ancient Five, she was useless. There was nothing remarkable or successful about her. She was an average student, so average he could never even imagine considering her competition. Overall, she did not affect or influence his life in any way, nor had she ever tried to. There was no reason to like or dislike her.

Severus paused, looking at his feet. He rubbed a hand over his knee.

"Yes," he eventually confessed in a low voice.

"Why?"

"I don't know," he lied. The answer, however, would be that Spinner's End was not a sunny place, even when the sun was out. And Eve Kavanagh had dark hair, pale skin, and thin bones. When he had found her in a lump, all he had seen was something too familiar. Too grim. He had been brought to his knees, hurriedly working magic to bring her back to life. It was only when she woke up did he realize that it had not been his mother— it had been Eve Kavanagh.

It would be damnation to ever admit as much.

Eve, though, would never ask twice.

"Well, thank you." Severus nodded. Eve began to shift, sitting up. The two of them sat across from one another. Long faces painted both their expressions. Now, faced with the light, Severus could make out the damage just fine. He grimaced, dropping his gaze back down. He could not bring himself to look at her. It made his stomach curl.

"I can heal the wounds," he offered again.

"No, but thank you."

"But why not?"

"I have to go," Eve told him, standing up. She was in pain, but she had several medallions under her belt. The tolerance was indeed there and sufficient enough to sustain her return to the confines of her dormitory. Relief was only a drop away. Eve walked over to the door, remaining in its frame for a second. The two of them looked at one another, and Eve managed a small smile.

"Thank you, Snape," Eve said again and then disappeared, closing the door behind her.

Severus Snape did not know about the Rouse. For the Rouse was her and Evan's game. It had always been theirs. People had looked at her skeptically before but never asked questions. All the same, Eve did not want to divulge to anyone else what it was that she and Evan got up to behind closed doors. It was a game. A game she knew they would never be able to understand. Yes, Evan had changed the game. It was unfair. Both players should know the rules, but she would continue to play— and, one day, she would beat Evan. And to beat Evan was not to get him expelled as she had done with Melisende Gamp. As noted, there was only one way to extinguish Evan. It was not to remind him of his place and rank, to punish him, or to embarrass him. People had tried to do just that, and Evan always found a way back. To beat Evan, Eve had to play his game and win.

Monday, 21 November 1977

Silence overcame that room like dominoes. It was not immediate. It started with one and made its way over from the back to the front. One set of eyes fell on her after another, after another, after another. People leaned forward to those seated behind and beside them, whispering, staring wide-eyed between them and her. Eve did not concern herself with any of it. She did not demand any force or attention on purpose. They were peering eyes and nothing else. She took her seat next to Alex without so much as a good morning.

"Eve?" Alex whispered, leaning forward as she settled into the seat. His eyes only grew larger as she remained quiet. A quick glance to his left confirmed they had company, but he did not have it in him to tell Edmund Nott and Rosalia Selwyn to bugger off. He and Rosalia shared a look, and the witch promptly turned back around in her seat. Alex was left speechless. He pressed his back to his seat, straightening himself forward. His eyes scanned the room. Everyone was pointed in their direction.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Edmund Nott popped the question, grimacing as he caught sight of the damage. Alex, too, turned his attention back to Eve.

"Why? What happened?"

"Eve, you've got a nasty gash on your forehead— and your eye looks like it's been poked with a bloody arrow. It's black and blue and red," Alex came right out with it all. The two of them looked at one another, and he felt his skin crawl as if the blows had been dealt to him personally.

"You look terrible," Edmund muttered.

"Nott," Alex said pointedly, glaring at him to shut up or look away. Edmund blinked over at him momentarily.

"Who did this to you?" Edmund inquired, pushing his seat back and lowering his voice.

"Did what?" Eve returned robotically, looking to the front of the classroom.

"Kavanagh," Edmund breathed, lifting his body and turning back to the crowd. Only two people did not seem perturbed at all by the witch's current state. He pressed his lips, knocking his knuckles against the table as he glowered at the back of Evan's head.

"What was it?" Alex whispered into her ear, still staring with concern dotting every corner of his face.

"A fight in the dormitory," Eve quickly made up. "Witches." Alex's shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his curls.

"What the fuck was that?" Remus muttered under his breath to James. They were six tables back and on the opposite side of the room, but Marlene had been quick to point out the ravaged ghoul that had been one of the last students to enter. Though it had been brief, the discolored palette gracing Eve's face did not go missed by any of them. Lily, too, had kept her vision on the witch the entire time she walked over to her seat. Now, she turned around to face Remus and James.

"Whatever it is, it's not good," Remus heard Sirius answer from behind.

"Well, at least we're even," James said, scoffing as he turned his attention to the front of the room. Lily's mouth fell open as her eyes met his.

"Potter," she shot at him.

"What?"

"Ugh," she sighed, tearing her gaze back around to where Remus was still eyeing. He raked a fingernail over the tabletop, blinking, watching Eve while Alex zipped his head around the room as if the answer to all their questions was hidden in its vicinity.

"Miss Kavanagh?" McGonagall asked, breaking the not-so-silent silence. Eve glanced up at her professor, who had made her way to her the moment she had looked up to locate what the fuss was all about. "Are you all right?"

"Why?" But it was not meant to be answered.

"Miss Kavanagh," she continued, staring her firmly in the eye. "Would you like to be excused? You have my permission to go see Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm fine," Eve assured her, pulling out a piece of parchment and her inkwell from her bag. She kept her eyes on her professor's desk. McGonagall straightened her neck, eyeing the door in the distance. She knew, though, that she could not beg Eve Kavanagh to be healed, no matter how ugly it was. She took a deep breath, waving her hand to close the door.

The class began hesitantly, awkwardly. Every so often, one of them would cautiously eye the bruised and battered Slytherin sitting towards the center. Waiting to see if she would say or do anything. But nothing happened, so they returned back to their professor. This would occur over and over again. Remus, though, could not look elsewhere. How could he? How could any of them? Why hadn't McGonagall made an uproar over it? Why had no one bothered to heal her? Would no one offer?

Remus put his head into his hands, pointing his vision down. He felt his gut twist. It didn't need a genius. It didn't need to be told or said what had happened. He knew the moment he saw her what had happened. The Slytherins were upset about what happened, and they had gone after her. Whatever relief they had all felt due to Melisende's absence had only been felt by them. It was not a matter of everything returning to normal; it had only been displacement. What had happened in the castle was now shoved under the carpet in the dungeons.

Remus's eyes peered up through his lashes, eyeing every single person there. It made no sense for Alexander Sykes, who was jittery with worry, or Edmund Nott, who had been one of the only to confront her, to be at fault. Severus Snape would never dare lift a finger to a pureblood, he had too much to lose. Cedric Avery and Eoin Mulciber weren't in that class, so his mind never made it that far. But he knew Eve, and he knew there was only one person in that room who would make any attempt to exert dominion and control over her life like that.

Could it have been Rosalia? Yeah, given that Remus still thought Rosalia had a part to play in Lily's attack, he didn't put it past her anymore. Except, Rosalia Selwyn was even shorter than Eve, and what Eve sported did not look magically induced at all. So, unless Rosalia had thrown her to the ground, there was no way she would have accomplished something like that on her own two feet.

Once again, he was left to question who the fuck was it this time? Hogwarts was not a serene place. There were a lot of people from different places, different backgrounds, and different perspectives, all told to live, eat, and mingle with one another. It was chock full of drama, theater, and every other kind of entertainment. But, recently, it had taken an extremely violent turn. He mindlessly frowned, leaning back into his seat as his eyes darted back to Eve.

Or, maybe, this was all just coming to light now.

She had only managed a list of short commands that Evan had spewed to her over meal times. There had been no indication of foul play, at least, the kind that left that sort of damage. He always wondered what lengths Evan would go to, but he had always thought Eve would have said something if it was really that dangerous. That made sense. It was one thing to bully someone because of an accent— as terrible as it was, it was another to beat them silly. She could not look the other way, shrug it off, or walk in the opposite direction. Right?

Besides, what reason did any of them, Evan, have to put his hands on Eve? She listened. She did as she was told as long as she could do it. And, as he had come to learn, when she couldn't do something, it was always with great reluctance that she would admit to being unable to do it. As if she had — he scratched his head — disappointed him? Most of the time, he had been left to wrench the admission out of her. There was no reason to yell at Eve Kavanagh, much less hit her. She was...

Remus froze— no, he had done it for entirely different reasons. He had done it for Lily.

...

"You do know you're not supposed to yell at someone to get them to do something, right?" Remus asked James. "You do know that, right? You had no business yelling at Lily like that. Cursing at her, insulting her— it was right ugly, mate."

"I know that," James told him, running a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you lot say something? Why am I hearing about this now?"

"Because…" Remus sighed, staring off into the distance. "I didn't think she would remember, to be honest."

"Still, someone could've told me," James muttered.

"We were afraid of how'd you react," Peter intervened.

"Why? Am I really that terrible?" Peter and Remus shared a look.

...

Yeah, his own words came to bite him in the arse.

Remus sat back in his seat, staring down at his own hands. It was remarkable how in hindsight, things always seemed much clearer. Obviously, Remus could've — should've — tried talking to her, first, human-to-human. He could've reached the same resolution without stooping down to Evan Rosier's level— fuck, was that who he was? Had he been the same way? Remus replayed their last conversation together.

He shouldn't have done that, for his own recollection was saturating the memory to an unhealthy hue. In the movie he played for himself, he was louder, crueler, and angrier than he had truly been. At the same time, Eve was smaller, mousier, and timider than she had actually been. What had once seemed like apathy now looked more like fright. He had thought it was a sort of pious complacency towards him and Lily, but now that it all came together in his own head, it hadn't been that at all. She had, at one point, even pleaded with him to listen to her, and he hadn't. He had just kept on lambasting her while she had been clearly panicking. He had rolled on because he thought she wasn't listening, except he had been the only one in that room on Friday not listening.

It didn't take much for Remus to jump to conclusions. He felt like a monster. He always did— that was the problem. It was why the movie reeling in his head was skewed and inflated. A couple days ago, he could have excused himself. Remus had thought it would be the last time he would ever cross paths with Eve. So, yes, he was a monster— but he was a good one. Or, at least, he was supposed to be. But, no, not anymore, he had lashed out at Eve, and he had done it for the same reasons that Evan Rosier did, too, he reckoned. Because he had been looking for a fight, and he knew he could take it out on her. Because Eve was not going to say anything at all, she never did.

Of course, this was his own panic now. Remus held himself to the morals of a priest. He was guilt-ridden when he fucked up; even fucking up an inch was an inch too far. He could not mess up. He could not let himself even squash an ant without, somehow, linking it back to how terrible of a person he must be.

Come two hours later, Remus had convinced himself that he had, undoubtedly, stooped down to the same level as Evan Rosier. He stood up at the end of the lecture and silently walked out of the classroom. He could not handle being there— he could not be in the same room as Evan or Eve. He did not want to be around his friends, either. He did not know how he would react if someone so much as turned to ask him what he thought happened. He had spent two fucking hours guessing what had happened, and of course, his own conclusion of the matter was that it was, in part, his fault. So, he knew if he didn't get out— he would end up throwing up or throwing a table— both were fair game. He heard his name being called in the background, but he could not focus. He could only hear his own heartbeat. He made a run for it the second he was around the bend— sprinting, weaving. He did not stop until he was in a bathroom, shutting the stall door behind him, a hand placed against the wall as he attempted to catch his breath.

The silence did not last long.

A knock came on the bathroom stall door, but he closed his eyes.

On the other side, Sirius pursed his lips together and leaned his shoulder against the door, listening to Remus' heavy breaths.

"That bothered you, didn't it?" Sirius asked, the painting in front of him being the same as it had been for the last two hours. "You didn't like seeing her like that, did you?"

"Not now, Sirius."

"I'm not here to have a laugh, mate," Sirius told him. "I'm here to make sure you're okay. Half the blood drained from your face the moment you saw her. I thought you were going to faint again."

"What do you want?" Remus grumbled.

"To make sure you don't pass out."

All Sirius heard was Remus sliding to the floor. He knocked on the door again.

"Come on, just open the bloody door," Sirius said. "I don't need to ask. I could just use magic." The stall's lock un-clicked, and Sirius pushed open the door, his brows lifting as he looked down at Remus, who had his forehead pressed to the tops of his bent knees. Sirius sat on the floor across from him, his legs spread out in front and into the stall next door to create some semblance of space, despite being packed in like sardines.

A lachrymose Remus looked back at him, his bottom lip jutted out. He lifted his shoulders and palms in defeat just to drop them again.

"Mate, no one liked that," Sirius began. "But no one else is acting like this over it, either. What's wrong?"

Remus sighed, pulling his focus from Sirius to stare silently at the stall's porcelain wall. He ran a hand through his hair but left his fingers to clutch at the locks for a second too long.

"I yelled at her," Remus disclosed in a whisper. "That's how— that's why she turned on Gamp because I yelled at her."

"That's it?" Sirius asked, lifting a brow.

"That's it," Remus repeated, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. His face slagged against his knee. "It's not— it's not right. I shouldn't have."

"She put Evans—"

"She wasn't well," Remus inserted. "Lily said it, and Dumbledore all but confirmed it himself. I mean, Lily saw her, and James saw the detention slips this morning. Two detentions, that's it. Consumption of prohibited substances and being out past curfew! If that's not proof enough, then I don't know what is. She didn't do anything to Lily."

"Really?" Sirius asked. He had missed breakfast entirely, so this was news to him. "Prohibited substances?"

"Yeah."

Sirius' eyes narrowed for a second on Remus' face. Now, Sirius Black wasn't one to take much time to read the rules — that's what he had Remus for — but surely, liquor was not considered a prohibited substance at Hogwarts for anyone of age on a Saturday night, not in class. Slughorn had just a fine time doling out glasses of Goblin wine to his eligible students during dinners and parties. Since when was liquor a prohibited substance? But Sirius kept it to himself, assuming Dumbledore had wanted to punish Eve Kavanagh for something. The least he could do and the one thing he could blame her for.

"She did nothing to Lily, and I yelled at her. I had meant to tell her that I wasn't going to tutor her anymore, and then I just kept going and going and going," Remus' words quickened every time he repeated the word. "And she just listened. She didn't tell me to stop— not once. She just sat and took it. Well, no, she did try to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. I was just, I don't know, I was—"

"Angry," Sirius offered up.

"Not even," Remus admitted, his nose scrunching. "Desperate, more like."

"Desperate?"

"Yeah," he sighed, nodding. "I just wanted... I don't know." He closed his eyes, opening them again. "I wanted her to tell me the truth."

"Well, yeah," Sirius scoffed as if it was obvious, but it wasn't. Remus did not want Eve to tell him the truth so he could run back to Dumbledore and denounce her. He wanted Eve to tell him the truth because he wanted her to trust him. Remus had been ready to offer her the same that he had offered all his friends. The benefit of the doubt. That is why he had stayed and pressed the matter, he had never actually wanted to leave, and he most definitely did not want any of it to be true. All of this in hindsight that is.

"How does that have anything to do with what we just saw?" Sirius inquired. "Did you...?"

"No, I didn't hit her," Remus said quickly. "It's just, I don't know, why didn't I just talk to her? She deserves to— she deserved that. There was no reason to fucking yell at her. Bloody hell."

"You thought she set Evans on fire, mate," Sirius reminded him. "That's what you thought."

"But I knew she didn't do it," Remus mumbled, frowning as he realized how ridiculous it all really was in hindsight.

It was so obvious— of course, Melisende Gamp had recruited along the way, as Lily had suggested. Of course, Melisende Gamp had tricked Eve. Who even knew what kind of sick game Melisende Gamp was trying to play with Eve. Poor Eve had been drunk, so drunk that Lily said she had toppled to the ground. How the fuck did they — he — ever think something else? Eve had sat next to him, listened to him, and cared for him when no one else could because everyone else had been freaking out too much to pay any attention to him. And he thought that person was capable of doing that to Lily?

What the actual fuck had been wrong with him? How did he trick himself into thinking he had been tricked? What about her made him so suspicious of everything she did? Bloody hell, even when she was being nice to him— waving, smiling, chatting — he thought there was an ulterior motive. Why couldn't he accept that Eve Kavanagh was not out to get him or any of them?

"No, no, you didn't," Sirius countered. "You think you did now, but you didn't know that last Wednesday. You didn't— don't lie to yourself, mate. It's torture for no reason."

The two of them stared at one another. Remus still felt like a terrible person, but Sirius wasn't wrong, either. It was hindsight that was killing him. Knowing he could have been the bigger person, but he had chosen not to be. And, in the end, those choices — which he had made for the purest of reasons — would be the same ones to drag him down. He leaned his forehead against his knees.

"I still feel like a monster."

"Remus," Sirius said, leaning his head to the side. "You just yelled at the bird. You did what any normal person would've done in your position."

"I don't want to be that, though. I don't want to be like that."

"Okay, well, lessons learned, yeah?" Sirius shrugged, more to himself since Remus wasn't looking at him. "You know now for next time, whatever."

"Do I?" Remus ripped at him, lifting his eyes to Sirius. "You don't get it— I kept yelling at her because I could. She wasn't fighting me. She wasn't yelling back. She was trying to get me to listen, to make me listen to her." Remus threw his head back and banged it on purpose against the stall partition behind him. "And I reckon that's exactly why that bloody bastard goes after her, too. I'm no better than Evan Rosier!"

"How do you know it was Evan?" Sirius quizzed, brows knitted.

"Who the fuck else would it be?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Know about what?" Remus returned, looking him in the eye. "Evan Rosier?" Sirius nodded. "She told me a thing or two, briefly." His eyes narrowed on Sirius. "Why, what do you know?"

"Not much," Sirius admitted. He shrugged again, but this time Remus caught it. "Evan has always had an odd obsession with her. My— Regulus and I used to, we used… Regulus once caught him shoving her into a room or a closet. I don't know, but he… He came to me asking what that was all about. I didn't know how to tell him. That's all I know, really."

"Tell him?" Remus repeated, his fingers digging into his leg as Sirius told him something that he did not know. There was a lot of news circulating around Hogwarts that morning. "Tell him what? What did you tell him?"

"Mate, really? Imagine learning about that kind of shite from your 13-year-old brother?" Sirius grilled, shaking his head once. "I didn't know what to tell him. Not like anyone sat me down and told me properly. I just told him they were like mum and dad, to look the other way— it wasn't his business to pry."

"Were they?"

"I don't know what the fuck they were doing," Sirius told him. "I don't know what they are— I never understood it, either. I worried for her sometimes, I think, but when she didn't say anything, well, I just thought they were doing what, I don't know, kids do. But…"

"But?"

"But she was constantly leaving those rooms bruised, bloodied, or something. I don't know, maybe they're into— who am I to judge?"

"So, you do know," Remus said in a hushed tone.

"Barely."

"You saw someone walk out of a room bloodied and bruised— wait, how old was she when this happened?"

"The first time I noticed, it was before first year. We were eleven," Sirius answered. "But I didn't— it wasn't. It was once or twice at most." He knew damn well it had been more than that. Even if he hadn't seen Eve walk out of a room with Evan, he had caught the bruises and cuts multiple times every summer. It only took one guess to figure out who.

"You didn't say anything?"

"What was I supposed to say?"

"Tell her parents—"

"Her parents sent her as an envoy every summer because they couldn't be fucked," Sirius explained hastily. "If they actually gave a fuck about her— they wouldn't have sent her in the first place. Fuck, if they actually cared— she wouldn't be here, at Hogwarts, right now."

Remus took it all in. Exactly how long was the list of people who had wronged Eve Kavanagh? How many names did it have to be until someone actually said or did something? Everyone else may have looked the other way, but Remus — now with the proper framework — could make sense of everything, and he could most definitely not turn the other cheek. Eve had been left to the trenches, and while no one thought it would surmount to anything, he could see her deteriorating. She was failing school, emotionally distant to the point where she had no friends, and was malnourished and starving.

At that reminder, Remus felt his stomach clench. He knew more, and he had seen more than anyone had— and he had joined the party all the same.

"Were you two friends?" Remus continued to inquire.

"No," Sirius responded. "No, we were never friends."

"But you don't hate her."

"I never said I did," Sirius pointed out. "I never liked her all that much, but I never hated the witch."

"Why didn't you like her?"

"Because she was weak… She is weak. She never stood up or spoke out. She just sat there and let people say nasty shite all the time. Bloodtraitor this, bloodtraitor that. I don't think she's a bad person, per se, but she's not great, either."

Remus did not know what to say to that— it wasn't as if he could disagree. Eve did not seem to be marching about, campaigning for human rights— like, at all. But he also couldn't ignore that Sirius' disdain may have stemmed from his own insecurities about what he could've — should've — been. Eve was obedient, and Sirius was not. For these reasons, Sirius also disliked his brother, wasn't it? It was beginning to make too much sense to Remus. Sure, Sirius hated half the Slytherins because they were bigoted idiots who would see the end of the world first before letting a muggleborn into that same world. Still, half of those people had been some of the first in Sirius' life— there was no way it stopped there.

Then and there, in the cramped bathroom stall, it dawned on Remus that Sirius didn't hate the Slytherins only because they were prejudiced but because they were not like him. And he didn't know which one outweighed the other. Sirius, without James, was also not stampeding around waving the muggle banners. He was more a rebel, a black sheep, than an activist or crusader. Much of what Sirius was, and how he identified, was not because he was like them — James, Remus, Lily, so to say — but because he was not like his family. Sirius wanted to be everything his family was not. In the end, it was for the better, but it did not come without its own set of consequences.

What kind of fucking sick joke was that?

But there was the question to his answer: why was he so suspicious of Eve Kavanagh? Well, a decent chunk was because Sirius had led him to believe she was a prejudiced bigot when, in reality, she was just not up to Sirius' standards. And Sirius had been his point of reference. He had always had the last word when concerning the Slytherins. No one thought to question it.

Not that he blamed Sirius. Hell, Sirius probably had never spent as much time reflecting on it as Remus had in that bathroom stall that Monday morning. Of course, Remus might have come to that conclusion earlier had Sirius actually talked about any of it— beyond insults, gibes, and snide remarks. Then, maybe, he would've been able to handle everything with a lot more care. But also, Remus spent half his waking day picking apart his thoughts when no one else seemed to be doing that.

"Right," Remus concluded, pulling a cigarette out of his breast pocket.

"Do you feel any better?"

"Do I feel better?" Remus snorted, shaking his head. "Are you mad? No, I feel even worse. Thanks for asking."

"Don't feel sorry for her," Sirius said.

"No?"

"No," he asserted. "No, she made her own choices."

"Did she?"

"Yeah, she did."

"You mean she wasn't sorted into Gryffindor and given a chance," Remus challenged, staring at him. "Like you."

"I chose Gryffindor," Sirius almost snarled at him. Remus took out his wand and lit his cigarette.

"You just said her parents sent her as an envoy, forcing her to hang out with your stock," Remus reminded him. "What choice?"

"My parents made me do the same," Sirius retaliated, pointing at himself. "And it wasn't just summer, it was every fucking day. I still made the right choice."

Remus inhaled his cigarette. In the end, he knew he could not compare Eve to Sirius. She had been right; they were entirely different people with different personalities. For whatever reason, Sirius had managed to escape the clutches of their world. Eve had been roped into it. So, what? To Remus, that did not make her weak. It just made her unlucky. It was just chance— it always had been. That minuscule detail, however, was too far for Sirius to grasp. Those like Sirius didn't understand luck.

"Listen, don't beat yourself up over it, okay? You're not Evan, and you never will be. You've got to believe that, at least."

"I don't know," Remus muttered.

"Why're you always so bent on making yourself feel like shite?" Sirius asked. "It's like you do it on bloody purpose. Bloody hell, you didn't do anything wrong. Stop trying to find something wrong. Not everything is your fault, mate."

"Why're you here again?"

"I haven't a clue. Sorry I bothered you," Sirius gave up with a huff. "Should've just left you to cry yourself sick in a bathroom stall, yeah? My bad, truly."

"You don't get it."

"No, you don't get it," he bit back. "You're not one of them— you don't get what it's like. You never had to live through it. What Evan does and what you did do not come close, but that is how it is for them. Eve Kavanagh knows that and has done nothing to change it."

"She hasn't even had a chance to," Remus spat at him. "No one's given her a bloody—"

"Why don't you just continue tutoring her?" Sirius suggested. "Fucking repent— fuck do I know."

"I doubt she'd want me so much as five inches near her."

"Yeah, right, mate— she won't put up a fight," Sirius told him. "You saw it for yourself— that's not what she does, who she is. If you told her you would be there tomorrow, she'll be there. The only thing that could stop her is Evan. I reckon he doesn't know, though, if he did—"

"That's why you bet she wouldn't come," Remus wondered out loud as he recalled the memory from weeks ago. "You didn't think— you knew she didn't think I was beneath her." Sirius leaned his head back against the bathroom wall. "You thought she would tell Evan."

"Yes and no," Sirius responded. "Kavanagh's never made obvious her beliefs, but I don't know if she's... She's not going to get herself into trouble, you know? Evan was as close to it as she ever got. It was always messy. I don't know how close they are. I thought they were together. But no, I did — do — think she thinks you are beneath her. She won't do or say anything about it, though."

Remus didn't know anymore who or what to believe.

Honestly, the last three weeks at Hogwarts had been three weeks too many.

"She's bloody terrified of Evan— they're not together."

"Well, good for her— I guess."

Whatever else he may have felt at that moment— one thing was more apparent than anything else. Whether it had been Sirius or a combination of other things, Remus concluded that he did not know Eve Kavanagh. He had to stop trying to figure her out and just learn to let it happen. It had been days and weeks of trying to resolve his doubts. Was Eve Kavanagh who she was because of Evan Rosier? Was she who she was because she was a Slytherin, a pureblood? Was she good or bad? Was she better or worse than them? All of these had been questions— questions he had thought he had answered— only to be proven wrong every single time. Even his own habit of coming up with some game was sickening now, in hindsight. Sure, there was power at play, but it was not fun to watch. Not anymore.

It ended there.

He took another drag of his cigarette.

It did not end entirely, though. He wanted to know who she was, really was. Without anything else causing bias. Eve as Eve Kavanagh and nothing else. He would start from scratch and work his way back up. And this time, hopefully, he would not be confused, tricked, or led astray. It would be just him and her and no one or anything else. Then, he may finally have his fucking answer and be able to make a decision of his own for once.

Tuesday, 22 November 1977

"Where are you going?" James asked as Remus lifted himself from his bed to put his shoes on.

"You know where I'm going," Remus responded, digging his finger into the back of the shoe to slip it on. "Where else would I be going?" It was as if the answer was dangling around in front of James' face— as if it was on the tip of his tongue. Except, it wasn't. It was just another bloody Tuesday.

"Uh, I don't know— the library?" James guessed.

"No, I'm going to go tutor Kavanagh," Remus said, hoisting himself up without so much as looking at the blank-stared bespectacled wizard who was watching his every move.

"What? I thought you ended that."

"Yeah, and now…" He didn't finish his sentence as he turned to face James before making his way out the door. "I'm going." Remus had spent the last part of his afternoon studying the map, looking for the witch. He hadn't expected to find her in the abandoned Transfiguration room they had made into their official meeting spot, but she was there. It wasn't even Friday, but she was there, and he had to go talk to her. There was zero doubt this time.

"But she," James began, nearly stammering. He sat up in his own bed, wide-eyed. "After what she did to Lily? What about that?"

"You saw what she was accused of. You got the detention note. You read it out loud— we all know. She—"

"She still put Lily in the Hospital Wing!"

"She was drunk and sick— you know that. She didn't know what was happening," Remus clarified, slightly leaning back as the two stared one another down.

"That doesn't make it any better," James almost shouted, his hand coming down onto the mattress. "Just because she got away with it doesn't mean— why the fuck would you help her with Transfiguration? With anything? Why should you help someone like that!?"

"Because she made a mistake," Remus explained. "I'm not— We don't know what really happened, but if she was genuinely involved—"

"SHE WAS!"

"If she was really, truly involved, she would have been expelled just like Gamp."

"No, maybe she," James searched the room for the rest of it, but he couldn't find what he was looking for. "I don't know— maybe she somehow charmed her way through it and, I don't know, maybe Dumbledore said she was clean because she had been honest or some shit. I don't know."

"James," Remus pleaded with a single breath. "They expelled Gamp, and if Selwyn so much as steps near Lily again unsupervised, she's gone, too. If Kavanagh is at fault, why wouldn't they have done the same for her?"

"I don't know— why do you want to be near her after that, though? That's what I don't understand! How can you even look at her face, knowing she was there, without thinking about how Lily looked sitting in that hospital bed?"

"Because I feel like I'm punishing her," Remus admitted. "And I don't want to do that."

"Good, she should be fucking punished. She shouldn't even be here— she and Selwyn should have been booted, too!"

"No, but James," Remus sighed again, running a hand over his face. "James, she— she was punished enough."

"She got two detentions," he reminded Remus, his upper lip curling.

"She was dragged by her hair, thrown against the floor, and called a bloodtraitor in front of the entire school. She—"

"That's hardly the same thing," James interjected.

"I don't know if you saw what I saw," Remus began, leaning forward with a finger pointed into his chest. "But someone beat her bloody— and I have a good guess as to why, reckon you do, too."

"No—"

"No!?" Remus repeated before James could continue. "What do you want? What else could you possibly want from her? How is that not enough? What would you be okay with?" Remus straightened himself as James sat against his pillows, his gaze now cast to the tips of his toes. "You want her thrown in Azkaban!? Soul sucked by dementors? You want to have her fucking executed!? Would that be enough for you, then? Please, you have the floor." He gestured with his palm to the space between them.

"She should be expelled." Remus brought his two hands together as if in prayer and pressed them to his lips.

"I'm going," he declared without looking at James.

"Where are you going?" Sirius asked, announcing his presence with the wide swing and the subsequent closing shout of the door behind him. He stood, his once empty look growing concerned as his eyes darted between Remus and James, the latter red-faced and cross-armed. Remus felt his muscles stiffen, debating whether he should just make his exit or take another round from the wizard standing just mere feet from him. "What's going on?"

"He's tutoring Kavanagh again," James scowled, almost sounding as if a spit would follow in Remus' direction. Sirius' eyes narrowed on James, then moved to Remus before he shrugged and made his way to his bed.

"Good, he should."

"WHAT!?" James exclaimed, his mouth sitting open. "You're taking his side?" Sirius turned around after dropping his robes on his trunk, leaning his spine against the bedpost. He stared down at James. Remus' breath was slow but steady, slightly turned in Sirius' direction, trying to unwind his own miscalculations of his friend's response.

"It's not a side. It's the right thing to do," Sirius explained. "Besides, it was my idea. I told him to do it."

"Excuse me!?" James huffed. "And since when were you the patron of moral high ground?"

"So you agree," Remus butted in, looking back at James. "You agree, this is the right thing to do."

"What!? No, I just mean," but James stopped again as he caught his own breath. His shoulders sunk down as he stared between the two of them. "Neither one of you cares about Lily?"

"I care plenty for Lily," Remus answered quickly, his eyes widening at the accusation. "I was by her side— I did not leave her side. I was there every day. You know I was there— you know I fucking care and love Lily. Don't you dare put those words in my mouth." Sirius didn't bother to answer, simply staring at the two of them.

"Just go, Remus," Sirius told him, still leaning against the bedpost. James didn't look at Remus as Remus let go of a deep breath and left with one final look to Sirius. It was when the door shut behind him that James glowered up at the all too platonic-looking wizard standing diagonally from him.

"What the fuck, Padfoot?"

"What?"

"Why the fuck did you just take his side?" James interrogated.

"Because he said he would help her, he should," Sirius answered simply.

"You're— why are you, why are you…" But James only ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it as he looked down to the ground with a grimace. "Why the fuck are you helping her? Both of you, why are you supporting her?"

"I don't know," Sirius told him. "Maybe, if I gave enough of a shit, I would sit and think about it. But I've got better things to do than spend an entire afternoon on the likes of Kavanagh."

"But—"

"I'm not fucking talking about Kavanagh anymore. I'm not talking about any of it anymore. It's over, okay? Everything's going back to how it was," Sirius cut him off, turning around to begin ridding himself of his uniform. James sat back in silence, at one point pulling the curtain so that he was no longer looking at Sirius.

Sirius had lied. Sirius had sat and thought about it— he had done a lot of sitting and thinking about it. He had done so ever since he saw Eve Kavanagh being thrown around in front of an audience like a puppet. Since he saw the colored marks that had been left on her ivory face, since he saw her running to somewhere, anywhere, with the words blood traitor stained on her back. It was because he knew this was just the beginning of the end for Eve Kavanagh. And whether she had done it for the right or wrong reasons— that word, that one fucking word, was now plastered on her for the rest of her life. Whether or not she knew it, they were in the same boat.

Remus knocked lightly on the shut door. He didn't know whether he should go in or not— Eve was not supposed to be there on a Tuesday, but he had found her there all the same. Maybe, she was doing something else. Perhaps, he would be intruding. What was she doing there, exactly? Had she been coming here after classes every day? He pressed his forehead against the door, knocking again, albeit a bit firmer with his whole fist. When no response or sound came, he took a deep breath and wrapped his hand around the handle to open it. Eve turned in her seat, looking at him. Remus stood there, pursing his lips together, and then lifted his hand to wave at her.

"Afternoon," he greeted her. Remus remained there by the door, one hand still on the handle. The other one found its way into his pocket. He glanced around the room— nothing had changed. It was all still there. Of course, it was— it had only been a couple of days, but for some reason, it felt like a lifetime had passed since they had last been there. "I didn't think to find you here on a Tuesday."

"It's quiet," Eve explained, shrugging. "No one knows I'm here."

"Right." Remus nodded, his thumb fiddling against the metal anchor. "I've come to apologize."

"For what?" Eve asked.

Remus could not bring himself to look at her— he knew what he would find. He looked down the corridor, examining it, then walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He made his way over to Eve. It was a shuffle. Musical chairs. At first, he was going to follow his routine and take the seat next to her, but then he realized he had come to do something. He had come to apologize, and being unable to look the witch in the face because he felt as if he, too, had a hand to play in her destruction would be an injustice. So, he took the chair in front of her, sitting with his legs straddling the back of it. It forced him to look at her face up close, but he did not say anything. He did not flinch. Remus accepted it for what it was.

"I'm just going to come out and say it, okay?" Eve lifted her shoulders slightly, indicating for him to go on. "Okay, I had no right yelling at you the way I did," Remus began slowly, cautiously. Eve settled into the back of her chair, letting the words fall over her. Frankly, she did not know what she had expected when she first saw him. Really, if anything, an apology had been the last on her list. A thank you was more in order.

"You were upset," Eve reminded him.

"I still had no right to yell at you," Remus repeated.

"But your friend was hurt," Eve said, tilting her head. "You thought I hurt her."

"Yeah, but…" He faltered, trying to find his voice. "It wasn't my place. I was just upset— I was upset more because I thought that it was my fault. I felt like it was my fault." Remus paused, watching her watch him. She was listening. "Because, well, you see, Lily said... Lily thinks this happened because of the whole Halloween prank, and I… Yeah, I didn't feel great knowing that. I just needed some way to forgive myself for it, and I took it out on you, I think. I don't know. I'm not sure why I yelled. I just wanted to get to the bottom of it. There was no reason to shout when I could've just talked. I thought it was the right thing to do. It wasn't, though, and I hope you know that. I need you to know that."

"You also thought I hurt her," Eve reiterated, almost wanting to laugh. "It's not entirely your fault."

She won't put up a fight, mate. Why? Why wouldn't she? Why was she making it easy for him? Was Eve really going to just let him off like that? Remus wanted to shake her, tell her that what he had done had been fucked up, that it wasn't right, that she shouldn't just take it sitting down as she did and had— but she wasn't going to understand any of that. She had done it before with him— waving off the Halloween prank as if it had been nothing; she did it with Evan, too; she never indicated, not once, that she was angry, only scared. She wasn't even angry that she was scared— she just went along with it. Remus felt like a complete arse. Everything, everything she had done up until then pointed to one thing, and while Sirius found it weak, what Eve really was fucking forgiving. Too forgiving. Almost to a fault. She put up with so much rubbish and just didn't say anything. It was annoying.

"But you didn't hurt her, did you?" Remus continued, pressing. He wanted her to break and snap at him— he really did. Eve shook her head once. "No, you didn't, you see? And I didn't listen to you. You told me, and I didn't listen to you. I'm sorry."

"You didn't know that, though," Eve told him. "You stood by your friend because that's what friends do."

But you're my friend, too, Remus thought to himself. And she was— or, at least, he wanted her to be. But he had gone and fucked it all up, too. How would she ever come close to considering him a friend when he had gone and burned down what little they had fostered in a blink of an eye? He had shouted at her over and over again that he thought her a liar, that he didn't believe her. Of course, Eve wasn't going to think they were friends.

"I should've listened to you, too," Remus said, his voice slightly breaking. "You deserved that, too."

"Why would you listen to me? I wasn't the one who was hurt."

The damnation of it all— because Eve was the one bruised and bloodied.

"I— if James had been the one to put her there, I would've listened to what he had to say."

Well, to be fair to Remus John Lupin, yes, was Eve's worst crime that she lacked boundaries when it came to partying? Indeed. Was she prone to blacking out, tipping over, and becoming absolutely useless? Yes, to that, too. Did he, at that moment that he had been lashing out at her, consider any of that? No. He had believed that Eve's actual crime was that she, herself, had set Lily on fire. If asked now, Remus would say that Eve was not so much as capable of lighting a plant on fire, much less a whole person. But, of course, hindsight was a bitch.

"Well, of course, you would," Eve said, shrugging lightly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not what Potter or Evans are. Those are your friends—"

"You're my friend, too," there, he finally said it. The look on Eve's face, though, all but confirmed what his worries had been— she didn't believe him, not for a second. He felt his stomach drop at the realization. "I know I messed up, I do, and I'm sorry. I was just hoping— I was hoping we could start over. I promise I won't… I won't be coming in with a dagger behind my back anymore. Okay?"

"What?" Eve asked, stifling a snort. What dagger? What the fuck was he talking about? "Remus, there's nothing to forgive. I'm not upset with you."

Remus wanted to throw the chair, not because he was angry— but because he couldn't believe that Eve was just going to write it off as if it had been nothing.

"You should be."

"Why?"

"Because I did— I fucked up, and I want you to be upset with me."

"What?" Eve asked, her brows slightly raised. "Why would you want that?"

"It's only fair."

"How would that be fair?" Eve quizzed. "Okay, your voice was a wee loud at times, but you weren't without reason. I don't think it was that bad, Remus."

Remus stifled an eye roll. But of course, Eve was going to forgive him, and not only that— Eve wasn't going to even blame him. To her, what he did was rational. In Eve's unsaturated mind, the movie was not that colorful. For Remus, who could not see it for what it was, her response made it worse. At least, if she reacted bitterly, he could somewhat reason his choice of weapon. Eve proving to him that all she had needed was a friendly chat with a word of sound advice only further highlighted how much of an idiot he had been last Friday.

"All right," Remus gave up, sighing. "Really? You're not going to fight me on this?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Maybe," he admitted— once it was out, he realized how stupid it sounded. "No, not really. I just wanted you to know that I feel bloody awful about yelling at you and would like to continue helping you with Transfiguration if you want." Eve smiled weakly at him, but her face flinched as it pulled at one of the bruises cusping her eye. Remus frowned, his dropped stomach twisting as his eyes fell on the greenish blue— maybe purple, mark. "Why didn't you heal them?"

"Heal what?" Remus met her gaze and then looked back to the bruise. Eve's fingers lifted to where his vision had gone.

"I forgot about them."

"And no one offered to heal them for you?" Remus asked. Eve shook her head, lying. "I can heal them if you want. I'm quite good at it, too. If you trust me."

"You don't have to."

"It doesn't hurt?"

"Sometimes," Eve replied. "It's been three days, so I've grown used to it."

Used to it? Remus repeated to himself. No one should get used to something like that.

"Let me just heal them, okay?" He wasn't sure if he was pushing the issue more for himself or for her, but it would be doing both of them a favor. So, he was going to keep pushing. Eve relented without any protest, nodding once. He took his wand out of his pocket and stood up from the chair to stand closer to her. Eve turned her head to the wounded side, permitting him full access to it. Remus' eyes outlined the circular wound on her temple, his entire body tensing up.

"What happened, Eve?" Remus asked, pressing his wand first to the gash, whispering the spell on his lips, and waiting for it to work through her skin. "Who did this?"

"Catfight," Eve lied easily. Remus did not believe her, not for a second.

"Just tell me."

"I told you."

He continued to whisper the spell on his lips.

"This is going to scar," Remus explained. "You need to see Pomfrey. If it's not magic, she'll be able to heal the scars, too."

"Okay," was all Eve said, sitting very still as she felt her skin pinching back into place.

Remus knew she was never going within a foot of the Hospital Wing.

"Eve, what happened that night?" While not an entirely new topic, it was another question lingering on his mind. Now, with his hand on her face, he could feel the muscles tighten under his grasp. "I'm not— Lily never thought you had anything to do with it, and I believe you, too, if you say you didn't. I promise I'm going to listen this time. I just want to know, please." Eve did not answer immediately, her eyes squinting as the skin on her temple continued to spear its way to a close. She dug her fingers into her palms. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

Remus knew it hurt.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he added.

"Alex and I'd been drinking since the morning," Eve finally said. "The Headmaster said I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"He said that?"

"Yeah."

"I see," Remus sighed. "Gamp's a bit of a wanker, yeah?" Eve laughed, and Remus lifted his wand quickly. She calmed just as fast, placing her jaw back into his hand. He returned to his work, this time with a slight smile on his lips. "So, you'd been drinking with Alex since the morning?" Remus eyed his work on the somewhat remedied gash. It was the best he would get without potions, and he began to work his way through the discoloration of the bruises. She tried to glance at him out of the corner of her eye, but all she could make out was the burgundy cable knit sweater he wore. "I won't tell anyone. Besides, I'm not judging you. Who am I to judge?" Unbeknownst to Eve, he was referring to his own predicament of not being entirely human. "Nobody's perfect, yeah?"

"After breakfast, yeah," Eve replied in a small voice.

"That," Remus had to stop the healing, breaking into a chuckle. Eve peered at him innocently, a slight heat creeping onto her cheeks. "That makes a lot of sense."

"Does it?" He nodded. "Why?"

"You two were so odd that morning."

"At the garden?"

"Yeah," Remus laughed.

"That was before we'd had breakfast," Eve recalled. "We weren't drunk."

"Well, during breakfast, yeah," Remus added. "Wait, what? No, you're having a laugh."

"No, we were both— we had just come from the dungeons. Alex had wanted to smoke before eating, to clean out the system—"

"Clean out the system?" Remus repeated, fully chuckling.

"Yeah, that was his explanation. I'm not sure what it means."

"That's okay," he reassured her. He knew perfectly well what Alex had been implying. "Wait, so, you two were like that and sober?"

"I reckon we were like that because we were sober," Eve answered.

"Eve, you were— you had taken a good portion of the morning to talk to me about ladybugs," Remus reminded her.

"I like ladybugs?" Eve offered as an answer. "Is that okay?" Remus paused, his laugh diminishing, but the grin still hanging true.

"Of course, it is. Yeah, if... I mean, if that's what you like." He returned to the bruises, considering her words. "Right, well, yeah— if you'd been drinking since, what? Nine, ten in the morning— 12 hours, and add some… That's a recipe for disaster, for sure," Remus summed up. Honestly, it almost impressed him that Alex and Eve had managed to hit 12, and possibly more, hours without tipping over. The fuck kind of tolerance was that? He stared down at the top of her head. Maybe, it wasn't, not if Eve had become putty by the end of it. "Do you drink a lot, Eve?"

"I don't think so," was as best as she could give him. She didn't really know what a lot meant. Everyone had their own definition of the matter, and she wasn't about to explain her drinking habits to anyone. To each their own, as it went.

"But Alex does," Remus tacked on, remembering all too well how Melisende Gamp had flung the words drunk across the room, and none of the Slytherins had so much as blinked. Not even Alex. As a matter of fact, Alex had agreed with her, happily proclaiming and calling himself a drunk.

Merlin, the Slytherins needed help. Not just Eve. All of them.

"What Alex does is his own business."

"Well, no, not if it ends up becoming your business," Remus paused, looking back at Eve. No way, no bloody way. His eyes narrowed on her own, and it hit him. Had Alex been priming Eve all day in order to satisfy the little fucking game he had come up with at the monthly prefect meeting?

This Halloween prank was going to be the death of him.

He put everything he had into healing the last of the damage on her face in an attempt to absolve himself of that stupid fucking prank.

No, it's different— no one got hurt. That's what his friends had kept telling him. Except, plenty of people were hurt. It had not just been Chris Li's face that got rocketed by a loaf of bread. The Halloween prank had become his demise. It was following them around, every bend, every corner— it all led back to the same place.

"There, all done," Remus announced, taking his hand off of her face to let her relax her neck. She leaned back in her chair, running a hand over her ruffled jumper.

One question— he had one question left that irked him. Remus did not want to ask her, but he had to. He looked back at her— Eve was as innocent as they came. She smiled at him lightly.

"Why did you say you knew she wouldn't die, Eve? How could you have known something like that?" Eve's face dropped, and Remus wasn't sure why. Dumbledore and Lily claiming that she was innocent was enough proof to showcase that she was. She, too, believed herself to be innocent. She did not seem guilt-ridden or regretful of anything that had happened. Why did her face drop, then?

"I suppose I just— I assumed," Eve stuttered, not meeting his stare. "I didn't know. I just hope that I won't let something like that happen even if I am that drunk."

It was a good enough answer, but it didn't quite satisfy his itch.

"Right, well," Remus tapped his finger against the table's edge but decided to drop that line of inquiry. Eve was innocent— and for all he knew, what she had just said was her truth. "That's it. That's all I wanted to know. I won't ask anything else, promise."

"Okay," Eve nodded. "You can if you want. I don't know much."

"Why's Selwyn getting a month of detention?" Remus blurted out immediately. He dropped his chin while a smirk lifted the corner of Eve's mouth.

"I didn't see the memory," Eve confessed. He frowned slightly. "But... I overheard her talking to Aphrodite about it. Melisende had promised that she could get back at Potter for what he did to her in September."

"What he did to her in September?" Remus asked, his face scrunching. "The pimple jinx?"

"Yeah," Eve confirmed. "She wanted to pimple jinx Lily."

"Why? Why not James?"

"Potter's a pureblood," she explained. "Rosalia would never."

"Why not me, then? Or Peter?" Eve looked into the distance, pressing her lips into a thin line. "We're closer to James than he is to Lily— if that's what she was aiming for."

"I don't know," Eve admitted, glancing back up at him. "It might be because she's muggleborn. Rosalia is inclined to—"

"Are you?" He almost wanted to hit himself, but the witch's face grew serious.

"I come from a very different place, Remus."

"What's that mean?" He paused, thinking over other times she had said something similar. It had been once. "There's no... What do you mean?"

"I'm not from here."

"No, you're not," he agreed. She tilted her head slightly to convey that he understood. Except, he didn't. "Wait...There's no blood politics in Ireland?"

"Of course, there is," Eve sighed. This was not a discussion she liked to entertain on this side of the sea. "But it's different."

"How so?" He lifted his palms up the moment her back straightened like a bone snapping into place. "I'm only curious."

"We don't talk about it," she explained. "Not here."

"Why not?"

"Because it's dangerous."

"Dangerous for who?" Remus asked.

"For all of us," Eve answered.

"Why?"

"Remus," she said sternly.

"Okay, okay," he ceded. "It's just the first I'm hearing about it."

"And there's a reason why."

It still didn't really answer his question as to where Eve stood in all this mess.

"Right," he began, placing his hands into his pockets. "What would you like to do?"

"I have the coursework for this week," she said, reaching into her bag.

"What?" Remus asked. He shook his head. "No, forget about that." When he caught sight of her confused face, he added, "for now. Just not today— I can take it, though, since it's due this week. Is it from Friday?" She nodded. "I'll look it over and give it back to you tomorrow with revisions, okay? It'll be ready for Thursday. And then on... When are you taking your Transfiguration practical?"

"Tomorrow, after classes."

"Me too, fuck," he cursed under his breath.

"Yes, L comes after K in the alphabet."

"Right, do you need— it's none of the material from last week. I'm sorry for bailing on you last week, but we've done it all already. It's the practical part of the theory you got an Exceeds Expectations on," he rushed.

"I know."

"Do you want to go over it quickly tomorrow during lunch?"

"No, it's okay," Eve assured with a smile. He stared at it. "Here's the coursework." She handed him the parchment she had taken out earlier. Remus took it, holding onto it awkwardly. She eyed it and then him. "If we're not— you didn't come to tutor me. Really?"

"No, I came to apologize," Remus reminded her.

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"Mm, okay."

"Besides, I didn't bring anything with me, if that wasn't obvious," Remus added. Eve did a once-over of the wizard before her. It was true. He had come with nothing that indicated scholar. He had even managed to discard his uniform. He had come with himself, a wand, and muggle clothes, and that was all— and some cigarettes, too, Eve assumed.

"You came all the way here to apologize?" Eve repeated. "Isn't that a wee out of way?"

"Well, no, it's the fifth floor, and I sort of, well, live on the fifth floor. It wasn't that out of my way," Remus told her. He also began to realize that it was Tuesday, and there was no reason for him to assume that Eve would have been in that classroom. She didn't seem to notice, or she just didn't ask. Maybe the rule of don't speak unless spoken to extended both ways— to him, as well. "But, yeah, I did. You deserved an apology, and I wanted to make things right."

"Hm, okay."

"Yeah, and I don't know, I mean, we could do something. We don't just have to sit here," Remus offered up quickly.

"Do something?"

"Yeah, that's not Transfiguration." Eve tilted her head to indicate she had no idea what he was on about. "I don't know, we could go for a walk or… I just thought we— well, I didn't expect." Remus sighed, curling his hand to the back of his neck as his eyes glanced about the room. And, for some reason, he was beginning to warm up, too. "I didn't think it would be this easy, so I had planned to be here for quite some time. But seeing as it didn't happen that way, I didn't— I don't just want to up and leave."

"You can, if you want, you don't have to stay here for two hours."

"No, I do, though," Remus assured her. "Maybe, well, maybe not here specifically. Somewhere with more, I don't know, somewhere different."

"Well, what're we going to do, then?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Anything."

"We could— do you want to have a tea, maybe?" Eve suggested.

"Sure, yeah, is that what you want?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"Right," Remus said, unsure whether she genuinely wanted to spend time with him or not. Actually, no, he would accept that she did. He would not second guess her. It had been her idea, too. If she didn't want him around, she would have shooed him away as she had Aphrodite Flint. She had no problem telling him to go— he knew that. Remus waited for Eve to collect her things, following him as he began to lead their way out of the room.

It would take Remus a good while to get used to the idea that Eve was totally and completely okay with him. He watched her every move, read into every one of her words— only to find that he was doing precisely what he had promised her he wouldn't, so he slowly learned to let go. To accept it at face value— Eve Kavanagh was not angry and would never be angry at him. She would forgive him. Entirely and completely.

On the other hand, Eve saw no reason to hold anything against Remus. Apart from the fact that, to her, he had good reason to react the way he had— it was because she was just happy that he had come back. In the end, that was enough for Eve, who had become reliant on his patience and aid that autumn to help her with even the most basic of tasks, like reading a paragraph. He could not help with everything— she still had problems, she still shook and shivered, and she was still scared of her own shadow, but Remus had given her some hope that it might be okay one day. The thought of having a tutor was humiliating, to be perfectly honest, but she had learned at least one lesson amidst the chaos of the last two weeks. She recognized that she had reached a point where she needed him and would not be trying to turn any tables anytime soon. She needed him not to pass a class but because the most normal she felt were the moments when they were together. He kept her sober by force, and she was grateful for that. She could not suffer another blow like the one she had just been through. And she was not ready to revert back to how things had been. She wanted to have at least one person with who she could talk about stuff like ladybugs in an accent and in a way that was uniquely and truly hers. Around him, she could begin to learn to be herself.

author's note *TW* abuse/mention of rape: Of course, what Evan does to Eve is not a game, it is abuse. Simply put. This is, however, a part of her story and arc. While Eve has grown up, Eve has also been conditioned for a very long time with no one to tell her what was going on was wrong. Though I do not want to spoil any part of the story, I will write here that there will be no sexual violence between the two of them (nor is there a history of).

If you stick with the story, you will come to find out the nature of Evan and Eve's relationship. It is much deeper and complex than just abuser-abused, despite what might be showcased in this chapter.

And, again, Happy Holidays to everyone. I wanted to leave you all on a happy note (even though most of this chapter is quite dark, lol). Again, these were Eve-centric, the next chapters will be a bit different.

Kisses and hugs, see you next chapter. Love, M.