"I'M not sure what you're talking about."
"The day when you barged into my apartment. You were blabbering about a lot of things – "
"I don't blabber – "
" – you were blabbering about quite a few things when you barged into my apartment — "
"I didn't barge in. I walked inside without you realizing." She raised her hand to motion her sarcasm. "I walked in."
I looked at her as she stared right back at me. Her faint smile, the shape of her pretty upturned eyes. Her hair was pulled in a low ponytail and her facial expressions were filled with sarcasm.
Then there was me, watching her with curiosity. I sat on the chair chewing on small ice cubes wanting answers so desperately. I hated not having answers.
"Is there something I don't know about?" I asked as her eyes moved away. "I feel like there's something huge I'm missing and I can't help but think you might have the answer to — "
"Evelyn."
I was between my words, holding a cup of ice. My heartbeat had picked up its pace so quickly. I could feel my stomach hurt from the anxiety of the moment. I didn't want to turn around.
I knew that voice so well.
It can't be.
I liked surprises, they were my favorite thing. But at moments like these, I wish they didn't exist.
It's like the decency to pull words out of my mouth wasn't in me anymore as I just stared.
"She usually always has something to say," Parkinson filled in the silence. "If you'd been the one to quiet her up, I would've asked you to come sooner."
"Hello, Pansy," her soft voice chimed in as her eyes moved over to the tall dark-haired woman next to me.
"I'd love to stay for the theatrics," she responded, "but I'd love to sleep in because I know there will be more tomorrow. Have a night to the three of you."
As she walked away my mouth still stayed gaped open? I wouldn't say open, just surprised. I thought I liked surprises. I guess not.
"I wasn't expecting to see you," I said, "I mean not at all but at the moment." I held the cup tighter.
"She speaks," she responded. Holding a bunch of books in her hand, she placed them onto the table, still looking over at me.
She analyzed me with her eyes carefully. He stood there silently. He was like a plant, just there for acknowledgment. Unlikely of him. Not that it concerns me.
"What brought you here — I mean, how did you know I was here?" I asked as the corner of her lips slightly turned up.
He stepped away, walking over to the round glass table. Picking up a bourbon glass as he poured himself some alcohol. Taking in the taste of it as he licked his lips. Tracing the glass patterns all over it.
"I didn't and did. Some part of me felt like something was off the regular days I have. Until Malfoy thought he'd have someone that would be able to help me out." She slightly bit down on her lip.
"I don't know if — "
"Just like old times," she cut in. "Back in Hogwarts when we would stay up all night in the library to try and find answers to mysterious objects and new kinds of witches."
"If you're done standing there," I said as he looked over at me, I was looking away, "do you mind giving us a moment?" The least you can do.
He hesitated for a second. The sound of him taking a deep breath in as he nodded, walking away with a book in his hand.
It took a minute before we acknowledged each other again. I couldn't tell if it was awkward or I was the one making this awkward. Questioning.
"Hermione, I haven't been here in five years, almost six. I don't know what to say to you. I can't tell if there's a lot to say or nothing at all."
"I'm not asking you to say anything, I do have questions." Hermione Granger always has questions. "I'm not angry at you."
My brows furrowed. I was confused for a moment. Did I expect them to be angry at me for leaving without notice? Did I expect them to just forget and move on? Is there forgiveness involved in this?
"Okay," I said quietly. "I'm not going to apologize for what I did. I thought what I did was right for me at that moment. I just couldn't — "
"I'm not asking you to explain yourself, Evelyn." Her eyes felt cold, and comforting at the same time. "I just think some could've seen it selfishly for you to just pack your things up and leave with zero heads up, I thought we were friends?"
I felt offended in a way. I didn't think it was selfish of me to want to grieve in my way. I think everyone has their ways of acting out in certain situations. This was mine.
At one point I couldn't even tell what was upsetting me more, the fact — it's not worth thinking about.
"We are friends, but Hermione, this wasn't about you, or anyone else. I felt that at that moment I needed to leave so I did."
"You could've at least told me, I would've understood."
"You said you weren't asking me to explain myself yet here I am trying to defend myself. Yet, here I am trying to explain why this is my horrible method of trying to process."
She took a deep breath in. "You're right, I won't ask you to apologize."
"I wasn't going to apologize."
"Right, okay." She fumbled.
"Okay." Another moment of silence as she bit down on her lip. She still has questions. She was still curious. I understood her frustration as much as I hated it.
Then I remember everything from that night again. Death Eaters roamed Hogwarts, throwing spells left and right as they did not care for which way it went. They wanted to show cruelty and bring pain — and they succeeded well.
Amelia had something with Hermione. Whatever it was, it was something. They were too young, just beginning for what they had and it was taken away so soon it just makes me wanna wince.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled.
"For what?" She asked, the playful tone in her voice was gone. She had grown so beautifully it was quite sad. Someone I've known for so long.
"You lost her too, she was — " for a minute I had paused between my words just to reminisce about what word would fit best. "She was dear to you as well, you lost her too."
She was taken back for a second. Thinking about the word I said. I meant it. She had lost her too and her curiosity of where I could've been was valid. We were friends and I left. I chose to grieve alone.
"Did you forgive him?" I asked her. Her eyes slightly narrowed. Biting down her lip just a little. "Did the rest of them forgive them as well? Or do they stay in another safe house because they haven't?"
She looked down. "It's been five years."
"She loved you," I said. "She didn't deserve that."
"I know," she quietly whispered, taking a seat next to me. "It's been five years, Evelyn. There are things you don't know about and some things have changed. I wish you could've stayed here with us."
"Is that a yes?"
"There some things you don't know — "
"Please don't," I pleaded, "don't say that. If there's something I don't know, you tell me. Why can't I possibly know about her death? We all saw it happen and I can't imagine how you felt to hear about it."
"Bonnie showed me her memory."
The way she spoke her name brought an ache to my heart. I had missed her so much.
"Did you ever hear the words — "
A sudden thud came from the floor as our eyes turned to the person behind us. "Oh — oh shit. I didn't realize we, I mean you had guests over." He stood in his pajamas.
"Oh," Hermione mumbled, "Zeke — uh hello."
"You know him?" I asked. She opened her mouth to say something but shut it quickly before anything came out. Zeke stood there quiet, his eyes watching her for a minute as it turned over to me.
"No, Malfoy mentioned him. So I figured." She gestured. She faintly smiled as I looked at him.
"Uh hello," he awkwardly spoke. "I'm Zeke. I mean you already know that. I'm just here with," his eyes pointed at me, "with Evelyn."
"I know," she said, "I'm Granger, Hermione Granger."
For a minute I thought they had met each other before with the way they shared looks but it would've been impossible.
"If introductions are out of the way. May I ask what brought you here?" I questioned. She turned her face away from him as he walked towards the cabinet, pouring himself a glass of water.
"Malfoy has been helping us track down the remaining Horcruxes left. We've been trying to find them for the past five years but ever since that night in Hogwarts, the sword has been malfunctioning."
"How could the sword possibly malfunction?"
"Harry believes that the sword would help guide him towards these Horcruxes. Although from the last few years it hasn't. He can't seem to find their locations. The Dark Lord has been very secretive, Malfoy knows no information except for the fact that one of them might be moving soon."
"Why does Harry need a sword to guide him? Did he always take the sword with him? There must be something wrong."
"That's what Harry and all of us believe. Harry and Malfoy decided to interfere with the Dark Lord's plan of moving the Horcrux. He believes the Diadem is on the move, it's one of the last left."
"You want us to basically hitch a ride on the bandwagon of destroying one of the last Horcruxes?" I questioned as she nodded her head. Zeke stood there silently as if he understood anything. "When is this going to be exactly?"
"Soon," she replied quickly, "we aren't sure, we're waiting on Malfoy to let us in the details so we can come with a sufficient plan to hijack that bandwagon as you stayed." She licked her lips.
"It can be anytime," his voice chimed in as I looked up. "So you need to be prepared, when was the last time you used your magic?"
Malfoy's question had me questioning myself. "I don't know." I ran my hands through my thighs. "I haven't been in the best — "
"Then get on with it and start practicing."
"Don't tell me what to do," I snapped back, "we wouldn't have been in this mess if it weren't for you — just a reminder."
"Not having information on the diadem hasn't got nothing to do with my abilities to produce magic and track information precisely." He stood in a button-up white shirt, his hair styled as it had grown longer.
"How about the fact if you hadn't had murdered my best friend for — I don't know what reason — "
"Evelyn — " Hermione broke in.
" — and the fact this could've been solved about five years ago if we all hadn't been separated. As well as the fact how it was your fault the Death Eaters broke into Hogwarts."
"How about you don't speak on things that you don't have complete information on. It's quite annoying watching you talk about things you don't understand."
"Merlin, if I hear the word 'understand' one more time in my lifetime I might go insane. I understand. I understand everything loud and clear. This could've all been prevented if it weren't for you."
"We don't need to make this into an argument," Hermione cut in.
He stood there quietly for one second, he stared at me with an agonizing fire in his eyes. I looked back at him just as fiercely, he betrayed us, I can't forgive him.
Stepping out of the frame as I went to go towards my room and he grabbed my arm. "Where are you going?"
"To my room." I attempted to twist my arm out of his hand. "Let go."
"Not until you revise your magic with Granger." He looked at me, his face was close, it was memorized in my head. "I can't wait on your pettiness to finish this."
"Can't wait because of my pettiness?" I laughed almost. "You're being completely absurd, I'm going upstairs, let go of my hand before you wish you did."
"No." He looked at me.
"Fine," I said. The whisper of a spell and just the perfect — perfect target right in front of me. I haven't practiced in a while, yes, but his face was motivating enough.
The rush of energy as the spell soared right at him. Blasting him towards the kitchen counter as he fell to the floor, groaning. I smiled, a little.
He grunted as he pulled himself from leaving back against the cabinet. Zeke had backed up as Hermione had pulled out her wand just in case.
"That would be the first step in revising your magic," he groaned as he stood up, "you're welcome by the way." He looked at me with a glint in his eyes as my smile wiped away.
"Were they like this back at your school?" Zeke asked Hermione as she let out a breath.
"Much worse but in another way," she quickly mumbled the last words, "not that I blame either of them."
"Oh." He took a deep breath.
It was in the middle of the night.
I couldn't sleep at all.
So I decided to go downstairs or outside for a walk, anything that would help. My head felt like it was going to burst in the next second.
Hermione had stayed a while, going over some information she had found about siphoners over the last five years. She had underlined and highlighted every piece of information as it was a project.
Zeke stood there silently but attentive. He watched everything with such significance. I would begin to explain some things to him but he looked like he already understood, so I just let him watch.
Nicely enough Malfoy allowed this safe house to be turned into Hogwarts for the day. As he watched vases being broken into small pieces, pillows turned into feathers — floating in the air.
Siphoners were beautiful in the way of creating their magic. They didn't require practice but precision to make perfect. Many — many of them were insanely skilled with opening portals, reading the future, and creating their own spells.
When Siphoners are at full strength, their eyes turn a different color as their body dances with magic. It was like art in a way. Only I was the painter.
I stood near the window. It felt too cold to step outside but my body felt so overheated from the number of things that had happened today. It felt like it was only going to get worse from here.
Twirling the glass of bourbon in my hand as I took a sip of it. It was obviously strong, the taste felt old — but in a good way. I enjoyed it. I smiled for a second. The realization of how life had completely changed in the last five years.
"I believe you have a habit of being awake at times I choose to drink." My head turned as I watched him pour himself some bourbon, his glass full as he brought it to his lips.
"Maybe you choose to drink at times when I'm awake, it's not always the other person's fault you know? Oh wait, you don't." I turned my head back around as I could've sworn I heard a chuckle. He laughs I see.
He quietly walks over with a drink in his hand. I watch him just as quietly. I didn't like how close he was coming by the second. So I moved away as he tipped closer. "Have a drink with me," he said as I rolled my eyes, "just one."
There was something the way his eyes would watch you. He was like a real-life siren, so beautifully manipulative. Like a sketch drawn.
"I'm only agreeing because I have a drink in my hand and I'd hate for it to go to waste." I feel the need to justify why I chose to stay here to have one drink. Nothing can possibly go wrong.
He clicked his drink against mine as he brought it to his lips. I watched him for a minute as I brought my drink to my lips.
For a minute I would've enjoyed the sight of him like this but whenever I look at him. I see Amelia. I see her smile and her laughter. I smell her baked goods and I remember how we would sit together and rave about the plots of the books together.
I look at him, and I see a murderer.
I wish my thoughts could just fucking leave me alone.
"You look like you're having the most horrible time in your life and it makes me feel like a bad entertainer — and I am a really good entertainer, witch."
"Why do you call me that? Witch?"
He took a sip of his drink, swallowing it as my eyes went down his throat. Stop — no. Look. Up. "Because you hate it, and I like that you hate it."
"You do enjoy bringing misery upon others, don't you?" I questioned as he tilted his head slightly, taking a small step. "Do you feel guilty?"
"For what?" He asked. "For calling you a witch — "
"For killing her. Do you ever feel guilty?" He looked stunned for a minute as I asked him so straightforwardly.
"I'm not having this repetitive conversation with you."
"No, but I am." I took a step forward. "Do you feel guilty about it? Do you ever have repeating nightmares about casting that spell on her? Repeating in your head over — "
"Just stop fucking talking — "
" — and over again? Just like the nightmares you had in Hogwarts?"
He looked at me as he came toward me. Pushing me against a wall as a small gasp went through my lips. He stood so close to me. His hand was next to me as he cornered me.
He smelled of alcohol and cologne. The silver of his eyes felt like they sliced right through me. "Always so many questions."
His fingers caressed through my hair as my hand laid on his chest, pushing him back. Too close.
"Just answer the question," I pleaded.
"Why?" He asked. "Why do you need to have an answer to every single question? Some things just don't have an automated explanation."
I felt the force of tears behind my eyes. I needed to know. I've been suffering for five years, put me out of my misery, please. "I need to know if it was you."
There was doubt in my head. There was so much confusion about that night. So many questions not asked. So many empty blanks to be filled. It's like that night everything just kept falling and falling until it was buried so deep into the ground that the answers just scattered everywhere.
His hand caressed across my cheek — a feather-like touch and it exploded the energy inside of me. As the glass in my hand broke into pieces, I could feel it cut through my skin and blood dripped. Tell me why my heart burns?
"It was me," he whispered as a tear went down my cheek. There was some part of me that refused to accept it even after all these years but this was the truth. "Does that satisfy y— "
He was cut off from his word as I impaled him with the broken glass in my hand — right into him. Watching his eyes completely change emotions as I jabbed it further, everything in me felt numb.
His hand held onto my shoulder for support as blood transferred onto his white shirt, he looked down as I pulled out the broken glass. His hand was holding onto me as he gathered the strength to say something but struggled.
"That's for Amelia." I looked down at him as he looked up. Tears ran down his cheeks as he groaned in pain. Looking for his wand to help fix the cut as he tried to adjust himself. I didn't feel the need to help him. I just stared.
"There are — there are some things you don't — you don't know," he gasped as he looked at the ground, trying to breathe.
It hasn't occurred to be properly to what has happened. It's like a delay and I feel like a fucking rock as he talks. "There's one thing that I do know and it's the fact that you're the reason I've lost my best friend, you're the reason I had to move to New York to question every single thing in my life."
"You — you left — " he couldn't complete his sentence as his grip loosened against the wooden floor as it finally occurred to me that he was dying, slowly, and painfully because of me.
Just when I think this was going to be over, there was a huge gust of wind as the windows blew open. I would've thought it was the Death Eaters swarming his place and were alerted of what had happened.
On the floor, as glass shards were everywhere, my ears felt like they were ringing. This could be the tale they tell everywhere. Siphoners actually do exist and weren't completely wiped out. A Death Eater killed at the hands of a Siphoner — boom, then I die.
That would be one hell of a story.
But then again, that wasn't the case as I heard a voice.
"When you both wanted to kill each other, I didn't actually think one of you would actually try to kill each other," her voice was soft—snarky in a way.
My eyesight felt blurry from the spell that hit my head. For a minute I believed I was starting to see things, it felt like the brownies that Theo and Blaise would bring in Hogwarts.
"See this is why I have to watch over all of you — the next you know the entire house is being murdered and I'm the last one standing."
Who was murdering who? Me? Well.
Her hair was a shade of blonde as I watched her tower over me and cast a spell over him. Looking back and forth between us as she looked panicked. My head felt drowsy, I felt like I was going to be lightheaded.
"I was just practicing the new spells from the book — sorcerer level shit, it's complicated, okay? I'm pretty sure the raspberry cupcakes are burnt now."
Merlin's sake. Fuck. I fucking hate this shit.
Fuck this journal.
One minute I felt like I was going to completely lose myself as the lights opened so bright. The sun was shining and it was returning.
Like small — small pieces of a puzzle were finally completed and the heart was fluttering again.
Memories.
—