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“Excuse me,” he said, “I’m looking for a muggleborn in desperate need of wealth, preferably with some expertise in, what was that - ah, yes, manners? Do you know any?”

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Evan took the galleon. He smirked. “Thanks,” he said, putting it into his pocket. “I’ll be sure to do that. Are you glad you finally found the right one? I heard you’ve been harassing Slytherins minding their own businesses over their quills. That must be quite embarrassing. I don’t know why you need a quill at all, though. After all, you’re an expert at catching golden mosquitos, no? Who needs to study when you’re the best at the world’s most pointless sport position?” he said, and then paused, and looked at the quill. “Although, they do rather look like wings. I suppose it’s a reasonable mistake. Here,” he continued, handing her the quill. He grinned. “Or, perhaps - given everything, how certain are you in my ability to tell the truth? Is this really yours? Let’s find out, then?”

A scowl settled on her painted red lips when he moved his hand away and ultimately moving the quill out of her reach. If Lucinda tried hard enough she figured she could get it—she was a seeker on the Quidditch team and prided herself on her reflexes enough after all. However, she wasn’t going to. “No. Take this.” She reached into the pocket of her robes and held out a single galleon to Evan. “Find a muggleborn with a family in desperate need of some wealth and have them tell you. I’m sure they’ll manage if they get something out of it, you’d get a valuable lesson, and you’d be getting out of my sight. Everyone wins.”

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"I did acknowledge that," he said, and then wrinkled his nose in confusion. "If I'm what? I think you seem to be jumping to conclusions here," he continued, choosing, again, to ignore her latter statements. He produced something from his back pocket. In what seemed to be resealable Muggle plastic were tiny colorful squares of paper. "It's rather difficult to explain myself when I'm not sure what I should be explaining. But if you meant that kiss, it was to close this deal. If you meant that he was male, well - I'm rather not choosy about things like that, it's all the same to me. If he were a witch, it would have made no difference."

“While I appreciate the sentiment, Evan,” Marlene started, “I really won’t need you. I’m a big girl and can take care of myself. I can’t help but feel confused, though. I mean for Merlin’s sake, can you blame me? I know that the kiss didn’t mean anything to you. That’s fine, whatever. But what? Have you opened your own personal kissing booth now? What was the point of even kissing me if you’re, um, you know—” she wasn’t trying to be offensive anymore. Although Marlene wasn’t incredibly used to be rejected, she was strong and could take it for what it was. Plus, it seemed obvious that Evan cared for her, even if she couldn’t pinpoint the reason. She just wanted to know what made him make the decision in the first place. Was he hiding something? Was this all just some trick to make her feel stupid? Marlene bowed her head. “You know, you don’t need to answer any of my questions. It’s okay. We’re perfectly okay. I don’t particularly understand, but no hard feelings.”

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Evan raised an eyebrow. He stood up and jutted towards the direction they were heading. “All kinds. Like what?” he said, stubbornly.

“All kinds.” Fabian said, looking away, shyly. “Are we going to go, then?”

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Seriousness is the only refuge of the shallow.

Oscar Wilde

Irish dramatist, novelist, & poet (1854 - 1900)  - The Quotations Page

(via mudwerks)

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Evan sat beside Marlene, and listened to her as she talked. ��It’s okay,” he said, shrugging, and leaned in to hug her. “I really care about you, Marlene. I hope you know that. And I’m here, yeah? If you need me, or even if you don’t, I’ll always be here for you.”

“Okay,” Marlene whimpered after he said her name one last time. She grabbed Evan’s hand as he helped pull her off the ground. She walked slowly and sluggishly with him to a nearby bench and sat down. “I’m sorry about what I said. Sometimes I say things that I don’t mean when I feel hurt.” She crossed her legs and tried to avoid eye-contact, hoping for forgiveness but still carrying the weight of sadness and anxiety. For a second there, Marlene had actually thought he liked her. How stupid could she have been? They were polar opposites, differing in every way. Not to mention, Marlene was the queen of pushing people away. It seemed everyone left in the end and it was always her fault.

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“Drinking in the restricted section of the library... I’m not sure if this is ballsy or just plain stupid. Sounds exciting, let’s go.”

“Suppose you could, not much of a task at this hour though. The restricted section is typically quiet at this hour.”

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“I like how you justify yourself before you actually present anything requiring justification,” he said, smirking. “Yes, okay, so, what is it? What kind of poetry? Nature? Love? Philosophical?”

Fabian looked up, cheeks flustering when he realized who it was that had spoken to him. Evan. He was bad news and Fabian knew it. He was a Rosier, the furthest thing from the Prewetts, who were pureblood, but know blood traitors. When he spoke, Fabian’s mouth opened and closed, hesitating.Should he tell him the truth, it was too late, he’d probably seen the cover. It was a muggle book, worn and old from years of use. 

It was poetry. Fabian liked poetry. The way the verses fell from his lips when he recited it, it was almost as good as it had been to kiss Evan. Evan. The name, just thinking it, sent shivers down his spine.  It was wrong. He shouldn’t like another man. He could only imagine what might happen if anyone found out. He couldn’t help but want him though. In the most innocents ways, and the most dirty ones too. 

Fabian finally spoke, jarring him frown his own, wandering thoughts. He’d been asked a question, and embarrassing or not, it deserved a answer.”Poetry. It’s muggle, but they write so nicely, you know?” He said, sighing, before continuing, “I love the way they describe things, having never seen magic before, so they see magic in nature, and a smile, and it’s–it’s eye openning, you know?”

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Evan smirked, but stayed where he was. His mind was entirely on what he had to do, and paid no heed to Dorcas’s teasing.

“Whatever you say, sourpuss.” Doe called out, diving under the water.

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“Nope,” he said, moving his hand away when she tried to take the quill from his hand. “Manners? I have no idea what those are. Give me the thirty second version, maybe.”

“Basic manners, Rosier.” Lucinda stepped forward, plucking the quill from his hands. “Could your parents not even manage to get that right to show you how it’s done?”

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“I don’t know, a bench,” he said. “I’m pretty sure we’ll both tumble over if I try to hug you here, so. Come on.” He stood up, and offered her his hand again. “Marlene.”

“Like where, Evan?” She finally mustered after a long moment of silence. She twiddled with her thumbs and didn’t offer much more help, still not standing up from her spot on the ground.

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Evan looked to the sky again. The discord was stronger than it ever had been, between what he believed and what he saw. No matter how hard he tried, he could not find a way to piece them together, these two beliefs. “You’re right,” he said. “It is happening. I’ve watched it. I’d be lying, I think, if I say that I haven’t been part of it. If I say that I’m not part of it. You’re annoying, you know,” he said, with no malice, but a tired sort of resignation, “you make it harder to twist it into something that makes sense. I’m very good at lying to myself, but I don’t know if I can just go back to pretending like it never happened. Do me a favor, will you? Obliviate me. The past hour should do,” he said, handing her his wand. “Here, so no one can accuse you of anything. And then just... walk away. Pretend this conversation never happened. Mention this to no one and just... let me go on as I did.”

“I don’t think that of you,” she said quietly. “But when some of your friends seem to enjoy frightening me and hurting me and telling me they’re just waiting fo the day when they can torture me for hours and listen to me scream…” she shook her head. “What else am I supposed to think? I know you all want me dead. But it’s more than that. You want me frightened and in pain and…” she trailed off. “I know that’s not your fault,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But please don’t act as though you’re ignorant of the fact that it’s happening.”

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― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

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Evan grinned at her. It sounded perfect to him, and so he walked off with her to the direction that likely yielded the best results for them. Away from anyone, from prying high-pitched little first years to disapproving professors, where they could drink and talk as much shite about people as they wanted. A break from everything serious, hopefully, which was exactly what he needed at the moment. “So how has your week been, then?” he asked as they walked.

Narcissa hopped off the wall as soon as she saw him, bouncing over to Evan. “Oh I do so love presents!” she said with a wide grin, linking her arm through his. “Shall we head off, then? Find someplace quiet?” She was rather hoping that they wren’t disturbed by any interlopers. She didn’t really want to share her cousin right now, and besides, at Hogwarts, the interloper was likely to be some raucous Gryffindor, and she so wasn’t in the mood for that. 

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It was Saturday afternoon, and Evan was walking through the grounds to get to the gates, where he had previously agreed to meet with Fabian. He could see him from a distance, sat on a bench, poring over a book. 

He considered the Ravenclaw. The Prewetts were pureblood and respectable, but were not a family that tended to share the same ideology as his, and as a result, they had not been very close. He knew little of his reputation in school, as well. Given that, Evan could only judge him by what he saw. He was attractive, of course - he wouldn’t have asked him out if he hadn’t found his looks initially enticing. Evan’s gaze considered his silhouette, traced over the features of his face, glazed over its angles and curves, to his focused eyes and cheekbones and soft lips, which he had already had the pleasure of getting to know, albeit only briefly. He was thin, sort of gangly, he supposed. Evan imagined him to be the sort of person who got distracted when he ate, by his own thoughts or by a book or some other thing, constantly having to be reminded to eat. Of course, it could be far from the truth, but, he supposed, that was the point of this. He was intrigued and he wanted to know more about him.

Evan sat down beside Fabian. He didn’t even budge, still occupied with his book. For some reason, that was endearing. He leaned back, casually, one leg crossed over the other, and watched him for some moments, before deciding to break the silence. “What are you reading, then?”

Fabian was enjoying the day, sitting on a bench and reading. He didn’t even look up as someone sat beside him, continuing to tap his wand against his shoe as he read.

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Ineffective communication wasn’t exactly Evan’s fault, or anything that he had control over. He was tired, and annoyed, and confused, and it was a horrible mistake. “Hate for what? Do they think we hate for no reason? Or, fine, perhaps there is no reason. Perhaps we’re just evil for the sake of evil, and we enjoy terror and power. And murder, let’s not forget murder. Is that it, are we just innately terrible?”

“I…” she paused for a moment, trying to work through all of this in her head. “No,” she said slowly. “I suppose not. But you said yourself that you don’t think killing me would actually solve anything. It’s just sending a message. And clearly not one that’s translating well. They burned an entire village earlier, but most people still think that the only reason they’re doing this is hate. I had no idea there might be something more to it until you told me. So, as far as i can tell…” she looked over at him. “You’re killing people for no reason. It’s not effective. All it’s doing is making people hate each other.”

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“Of course it’s not acceptable.” Evan said, and then frowned. “I mean, of course, it’s acceptable, what am I saying--” He said, swallowing. “For the greater--something. I, are you--” he stopped himself, and took a quick breath. He shook his head, and looked at Mary. “Are you saying one life is worth more than all of the future of wizardry?”

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t want to be killed?” she said, looking over at him. “I don’t think it’s right to kill people just because of who their parents are. It’s not like it’s something that people can help, after all. But here you are saying that it would be acceptable to kill me just because it would make a statement….” she looked down at her hands. “I just… prefer to think my life is worth more than that. Maybe that’s selfish, I don’t know.”