LUNAR (A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction)

Twenty One. The Eve of Christmas Eve.

Over the next few days, Evelyn found that no matter what the four of them were doing, no matter where they were, she could not keep her eyes (or her mind) off how happy Caiti and Marlowe appeared. Marlowe was touching Caiti in some way at all times. He had an easy arm around her shoulders or a hand on her knee or they had their fingers laced together or she was curled up with her head on his shoulder or he was playing with the ends of her hair.

They smiled a lot. They laughed just as often.

Evelyn tried to participate in the conversations, tried to concentrate on the board games they pulled out sitting on the floor around the coffee table in the O'Connell's living room, but she felt so distant from it all.

The more she watched them, the more it didn't make sense.

When people graduated, when one half of a couple was left behind, they said lots of nice things about making it work, but things always fizzled out. That was how it was supposed to be. That was how it was in books and movies and with people she knew. That was how it was with other couples from Hogwarts she had known. But Caiti and Marlowe seemed closer than ever. They seemed to be on exactly the same page.

She and Sean were the ones that should have worked. It should have been so easy to keep their bond as strong as it always had been. They lived together. They saw each other every day, just as they always had. But the more time Evelyn spent with Sean, the more separate she felt from him.

She tried to sit close to Sean like she would have done so naturally just a year ago. She tried to look at him as often as Caiti looked at Marlowe. She tried to mirror the way Caiti and Marlowe behaved around each other so maybe she could cover up the fact that every interaction between her and Sean was stilted and awkward.

But Caiti and Marlowe weren't stupid. They caught on.

On the day before Christmas Eve, they had all been sitting in front of the fireplace on the glassed in porch, just talking and looking out at the snow falling gently in the wooded backyard of the house, but Caiti and Marlowe had gotten up a few minutes before on the pretense of picking out their third Christmas cookie of the day.

With the two of them out of the room, the awkwardness that had swallowed up every conversation she'd had with Sean in the last month stifled her. Evelyn waited as long as she could, but when they still weren't back, bringing with them the noise and smiles and ideas, she said, "I'm going to get a glass of water. Do you want anything?"

Sean shook his head. Evelyn pushed herself off the ground, went in through the sliding door and headed towards the kitchen. She could hear Caiti's voice as she approached, much more serious than anything she'd heard her say in the last three days combined.

"You've noticed it, too, right?" she was asking. "She just seems sad."

"Yeah," Marlowe agreed. "Yeah, I've been thinking that for a while. Something's not good there."

"I'm really worried about her."

Evelyn's eyes started to well up. She could no more walk into that kitchen than she could walk right back out to the porch with no water in her hand.

She took one step further, close enough to see into the kitchen, and saw Marlowe wrap Caiti into a tight hug. They rotated back and forth and he said, "I'm so glad we're okay even though we don't get to see each other much. I need you."

And at that, Evelyn had to get out of there. She backed up, through the living room, past the enormous Christmas tree, down the hall, past Sean's room — she couldn't bring herself to hide out in there again — and into Caiti's room because she didn't know where else to go. She sank down on the floor where she'd be hidden behind the bed if anyone looked in, tucked her knees up, and tried so, so hard not to cry because if she cried, it wouldn't matter how long she waited to go back out. They would all know. She would not be able to cover it up. If she started crying now, it would be a streaming, sniffling, ugly mess kind of crying that went on and on and on because she had been holding it in for so long.