| back to black | {g. weasley}

[ twenty-eight ]

"I remember the first time she wrote me a letter longer than 'we're fine, Evelyn is in this year and doing good in this class and has three friends now' was when you met the Weasleys," he pulls out a stout booklet with a thin cover and takes it back over to her. "You were about to turn 8... and she sent me the letter explaining the day you and her had spent with Molly and the kids," he passes her the book and pockets his hands when she takes it into her lap. "That and this picture," he nods as she opens up to the first page.

The live picture moves for only a moment; a dark haired girl in a pretty, sage-green sun dress races around in a grass clearing with a little girl holding her hand tightly, a stampede of red-haired boys at their heels.

She can practically hear their laughter, feel the sun on her skin and the wind thorough that thin cotton skirt that ripples around her legs.

She begins flipping through the pages, watching herself grow right in front of her own eyes, parts of it near the end of the line making her cringe.

"After that visit, your mother was much more inclusive with her letters," Lupin reveals. "I loved hearing about you, watching you grow to look more and more like your mother, but somehow still remind me even more so of your father..."

She pauses at a more recent picture. It was taken last summer at The Burrow, before the Weasley's left for Egypt, and it was of her and George.

George...

She was clinging to his back as he spun them around the center of the living room, Fred and Ginny and Ron counting loudly as Percy held out a green bandana in front of him (they were trying to see how straight she could walk after having been spun around so many times) for Evelyn to try and grab.

Looking at it gave her a joyous flutter.

It was pushed aside by that uncertain gnawing that's been stalking around inside her. It was the tense feeling from the other night's conversation that she couldn't shake... not that she had let it change anything; and, evidently, Fred hadn't spoken a word of it to George because he hasn't changed his behavior either.

Which was good, she decided. The last thing she needed was for her strongest bond to fray at the edges. She couldn't stand the thought of trying to tackle another set of intimate feelings... it scared her.

"I— I had no idea," Evelyn whispered.

"That was the plan," Remus says. "I keep a careful, quiet eye... teach you some magic, let you live your fifth year here in peace." He almost chuckles. "It got a little harder once you started visiting me," he admits, "and even more so once you started opening up about things— hell, it was hardest of all to keep from calling you 'Miss Black' when I started seeing how much you bloody act like that father of yours."

"Do I really?" She asks hopefully, almost shyly.

"So much," he tells her with a smile.

She laughs, closing the book and looking back up at him. "I'll miss having you around next year," she tells him. "It won't be the same."

"You can always write me," he says.

She slides off of the desk and looks up at him now. "Okay... but will I ever see you again? See him again?" She asks, feeling her eyes suddenly well.

She's endured so many different emotions in the past week alone that she doesn't even know how to control them anymore.

Remus tilts his head gently at the shake in her voice. He reaches a hand up and cups the side of her head. "Evelyn," he swallows, trying to minimize the poignant tone carrying his words. "I'm not sure..."