IT WAS ALMOST EMBARRASSING REALLY, HOW LONG IT HAD TAKEN HER TO REALISE IT, but now that the thought had crossed her mind it was smeared in bold and vibrant letters at every corner of her conscience: Evelyn was almost certainly falling in love with Fred Weasley.
At every corner was a reminder: from the recipe book he'd given her last Christmas to every flash of red hair she'd spotted walking down the corridors. She'd never known a feeling like this. It wasn't at all like the faint fluttering in her insides she used to feel when she first met Ethan. It was almost painful, a desperation trying to rip out of her chest to escape the confines of her cage of a heart. She had no clue how long the feeling had been brewing in the background, but as January drew on into February, and February merged into march it forced itself further into the spotlight until it was the only thing on her mind. The second task was completed and school life moved on, but Evelyn felt as though she was suspended like a Cornish pixie; caught in the empty air whilst everything moved at lightspeed around her.
For months Evelyn lived in her thoughts, attempting to keep herself upright when she passed him in the halls and sending Max or Margaux or Ashton before her into the kitchens just in case he happened to be there. She'd evolved in a moment; from confused by Fred's friendship to spending sleepless nights trying to work out if he felt the same way she did. There had to be a way to stop herself from exploding from the surging emotions every time she saw something that reminded her of him. There had to be a way to determine if Fred felt the same way. To find out if his dreams were so full of their electric kiss from the summer as hers were or if he was keeping his distance because of something stupid she'd done at the Yule ball - the events of which were still lost to the firewhisky. They hadn't spoken in weeks. Not properly. For Fred always seemed lost for words and Evelyn's ability to form sentences now seemed to deteriorate at the moment she saw him.
She realised that if she wanted to find out what was going on in Fred's head without asking him directly (she could never do such a thing - any sensible Ravenclaw knew not to put themselves out so vuneralbly like that), the only person other than Fred himself that might be able to help her would be his twin brother. Unfortunately this had posed the question of how to get George on his own for long enough to interrogate him effectively - for since even before she'd known them personally Evelyn had known that the boys were always joined at the hip. So for a few days Evelyn tried desperately to find a way to get George alone (she even debated asking Léonie to let her crash their next date but decided against it.) By the time that Friday rolled around she'd mostly given up on her "genius" idea.
Until she remembered that there was indeed one place she was sure to be able to talk to George without any possibility of Fred being there: transfiguration. It was the only N.E.W.T that George was taking separate from his brother, and Evelyn conveniently was in the same class. Evelyn simultaneously reprimanded herself for being so stupid as to not realise sooner and praised herself for being able to remember something at least. And so the plan was born: Evelyn would find a way swap seats with Lee for a single lesson only so that she could try to dig some answers out of Fred's closest confidant.
There were only two problems: first, how to get around professor McGonagall's watchful eye for long enough to have a proper conversation, and second, the fact that Evelyn wasn't exactly sure what she wanted to ask George Weasley, or in fact if he'd even be willing to give her the information.
She'd have to figure it out in the process though, because class was about to begin and if she didn't want to have to wait until the following Tuesday to get her answers, that Friday afternoon would be her only opportunity. It was now or never (or so it had seemed at the time.)
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Evelyn had hoped to arrive at the transfiguration classroom five minutes early (which would have been be quite an impressive feat considering she'd need to come from potions a good three floors below) however, due to a slight spillage of frogspawn on the dungeon floor, she got to professor McGonagall's class only seconds before it was time to start. She burst through the door holding her breath - her plan had been to sit in Lee's usual spot before either boy got there and then ask George to sit with her there at the back where their conversation would be less easily heard, but if George and Lee were already in their regular seats she doubted there'd be a way to separate them without causing disruption. If she was too late, she'd be forced to live in the agony of the unknown for four more days too long.
Her worries deflated though immediately as she entered the room: Max and Lee were sat together at the girls' usual desk in the middle of the room. Evelyn made eye contact with Max as she hurried past them to the back to take her temporary seat and smiled. Evelyn thanked Merlin that she'd told her best friend about her little plan. Better make it up to her with ice cream later, Evelyn noted, sensing the air of "you owe me" that was present in Max's own grin.
Evelyn dumped her bag on the floor and slid straight into her seat. When she turned, smiling, to face George she was met with a quirked eyebrow and an amused smirk that she now realised was rather different to Fred's. Whilst George's smile was even and cheeky, it did not have such a sunshine-like effect as his brothers did. That was how Fred's smile was to Evelyn; like sunshine. She blamed Muggle literature entirely for her metaphors as in the months since she'd realised her crush on the boy she'd gathered enough comparisons to write Fred as a poem: A sunshine smile and freckles like stars, that charming trickster with his milky-way eyes.
"Are you just going to sit there or do I get to know why Max nearly slapped me for asking why she wanted to sit with Lee?" George's question brought Evelyn's attention back to the real world with a start. She let out a breathy laugh and averted her gaze to her hands that lay in her lap.
"It may have something to do with my telling her that I wanted to sit next to you for a lesson." Evelyn said in an attempt to open the conversation she wanted to start. Hopefully George would get curious and ask her why on earth she'd wanted to sit with him without getting too suspicious. If George was to find out exactly why she had wanted to talk to him Evelyn thought she might melt into a pool of forgotten rasin ice cream. Or even worse, if George was to take her statement in a different way entirely Evelyn wasn't sure she'd be able to react - most people knew how awful she was at improvising, especially after that incident at the very beginning of their previous school year. Evelyn's mind began to flood with sudden regret at not coming up with a script for the conversation before hand - how on earth was she to naturally bring up Fred in a conversation or ask George if he knew anything about what had happened that night at the Yule ball. It would simply be awkward she was sure of it and then George would report to Fred and -
"So tell me, Evie," George's words were quieter this time as professor McGonagall had entered the classroom, but he still managed to snap Evelyn out of her mind again, "what do you want to know?" He asked nonchalantly as he uncapped his ink. Evelyn blinked.
"Come again?" She questioned with a furrowed brow. George chuckled and continued to get out his class materials as he replied to her.
"Well I assume you want to ask me something about Fred." Evelyn felt her cheeks flush and her insides flame as the name dripped from George's tongue.
"I- well- well yes but-" Evelyn stuttered, distracted by the rapidly increasing temperature of her face. Finally she managed to force out the question: "how?"
"You avoid us for ages and then the moment you finally decide to strike up a conversation is when there's no chance he's anywhere around. Doesn't take a genius to figure it, y'know." George explained. Then he waited, and Evelyn's mind spat out a question she wasn't sure she had even meant to be asking.
"Do you know what happened at the Yule Ball?"
George laughed quietly. "That depends," he said quietly, shuffling further along the bench as professor McGonagall began the lesson, "do you know what happened?"
Evelyn shook her head. It was answer enough, because she knew George was not asking her if she knew what had happened prior to the uncorking of the firewhisky. Her assumption was confirmed by the redhead's nod as he ducked down closer to her, still trying not to draw in the professor's attention. George looked back and forth from Evelyn to the front of the room. Evelyn sat in desperate anticipation as George seemed to be debating what to say next. Come on George, she thought, tell me something. Anything. I need this.
Finally, George opened his mouth to speak and Evelyn thought she might fall out of her seat from how close to its edge she was. excitement hit her like an incoming bludger at his next words.
"I know what happened. I think you already knew that," George confirmed, averting his gaze and speaking in a hushed tone. And then: "But I'm sorry, Evie. It's not my place to tell you."
And just like that George had sent that bludger of excitement soaring back to where it came from, and Evelyn felt the vibrance of the classroom dip. The swerve made sense - the boy was a first-class beater after all, but that didn't make Evelyn disappointed she hadn't felt the hit all the same.
"Not even a clue? Please?" Evelyn cringed at how meek and desperate her voice sounded as she begged him. The world had begun to turn in slow motion - every thought drawn out into booming slurs playing at double-volume through her mind. There had to be something he was willing to give her. In that moment she'd have taken anything - even if it was only to know if she'd made herself sick with the alcohol or not.
George shook his head and told her sorry again. Evelyn sighed and retracted into herself, turning slowly to finally read the notes on elemental transfiguration that professor McGonagall had put on the chalkboard, accepting that her mission had come to nothing. If George wouldn't tell her what she had been doing on Christmas, she knew there was no way he'd tell her anything about Fred...
"You know who would tell you though, right Evie? Fred." Evelyn's gaze snapped back to the Gryffindor beside her as he spoke that name again.
"I- I couldn't- he wouldn't-" Evelyn protested. Her heart seemed to thump rapidly suddenly. George smiled.
"I know what you really want to know, Evie." He said, making Evelyn's breath catch in her throat, "or at least I think I do. So here's my advice: talk to him. He's the only one who really has your answers, Evie. Ask him. And if I'm right about what you want to know, I don't think you'll be disappointed in his answers."
She knew he was right, of course. But that was a situation which she had hoped to avoid. Still, now it seemed that it was her only choice, though Evelyn had wanted to ask George what exactly it was he thought she was trying to find out, a different question fell from her lips, barely heard to the blood pumping through her own ears.
"How? When?" She spluttered. George's smile became a troublemaker's grin.
"We've organised a game for next week. You should talk to him then." George said. Evelyn opened her mouth to question him again when the cough of a throat being cleared sounded and a tall shadow fell over the desk.
"Miss Fortescue, Mr Weasley. I will not ask why you two have suddenly come to sit together however I do wonder what is so interesting about your conversation that you won't pay attention to my lesson." Professor McGonagall said as sternly as ever, "I'll thank the both of you not to say another word for the remainder of class." She instructed them.
With a final "yes professor", McGonagall left their desk and the room fell into silence. For the rest of the lesson Evelyn could barely concentrate - she was too busy trying to decipher George's riddle. And if I'm right about what you want to know, I don't think you'll be disappointed in his answers. It was far harder than any riddle she'd answered to enter the common room that was for sure. Not to worry though, she had plenty of time to figure it out before George's suggested opportunity to speak to Fred at the next game. That also left plenty of time to formulate her next plan.
Well, she hoped so anyway.