Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

Just Hands

TW: Allusions to earlier mention of childhood trauma in the form of childhood sexual abuse; memories of the sexual grooming of a minor.

The Carrow Family Estate.

Late August, 1972.

"... What are you doing out here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Crying. Hiding."

"Wrong and wrong."

"... Come on."

"No, you 'come on.' Don't be ridiculous."

Though his first instinct is to turn and leave her all alone there, he can't bring himself to do it. It feels wrong. Even for her ... even given what an absolute terror she can be.

It feels wrong to leave her alone like this.

And so, because he's a good person, Evan Rosier sighs and walks towards her, slipping down onto the bench beside her.

As for her ... she's just as miserable as she was before he appeared. After all, tonight's a party night.

And party nights mean ...

...

Never mind;

Forget it.

Yes, she's miserable. Miserable and scared. But somehow ... somehow it suddenly hurts less now that he's appeared.

Clearing his throat, Evan stares down at the ground before finally daring to murmur to her flatly, "What happened?"

His intuition, always a strong suit, is telling him something's off.

Even for her ...

Even given her general disposition

Something's ...

... Wrong.

Shifting beside him, she subconsciously tugs at the length of her dress, as though in doing so she could will it to be longer, "Nothing. Nothing happened."

"Then why -"

Simultaneously they turn to one face one another, their hands gripping the edge of the bench as her brown eyes meet his blue, "Just leave it, Evan. Please."

Please?

... From her?

"Alright. Suit yourself."

Silence now as they stare at one another. Finally, she sighs. Bringing one hand up she begins idly playing with one of her beautiful black curls. She doesn't even realise she's doing it, the preening. But she can't herself. She's always loved Evan, always adored Evan.

Of course, I treat him rotten.

But then again, I treat everyone rotten.

You don't get it;

... I can't help myself.

But I want to kill the monster that lives inside me - I really do. I do ...

Clearing her throat delicately, she crosses one leg over the other and forces an obviously fake smile, "How was your summer holiday, Evan?"

"Miserable as always. You?"

"The same, honestly."

It's the eyes ...

Her eyes just look so sad.

Once you push past the anger, there's sorrow.

Pain.

Blinking back at her, Evan interlaces his fingers over one knee as he pulls his leg up against the edge of the bench, "... Second year, though. Looking forward to that?"

For the briefest instant, she actually flashes him a real smile, "I am. Are you?"

"I suppose. Hogwarts seems somewhat better than home."

"Hogwarts is home, Evan."

Something she really means - something she really feels in her soul.

Hogwarts is home.

Hogwarts is safe.

She only says this because it's Evan. She'd rather die than admit something so truthful, so potentially vulnerable, to anyone else. She'd never allow anyone else to see her heart.

But Evan ...

Evan will always be different.

And why is that?

You simply don't understand ...

"We only just finished our first year, Alecto."

"And?"

Your point?

"You have to live somewhere for quite a long time, break it in, before you can call it a proper home."

She nearly snaps at him for this - it's only by biting her tongue at the last second that she stops herself. Yet she manages.

For Evan.

Suddenly, she smiles and leans towards him, "Evan?"

"Alecto."

"Our parents want us to date."

Don't remind me ...

"... And?"

"I told Emma we started dating, Evan."

"Why would you -"

"Please, Evan. Please be my boyfriend? If you do, I promise I'll never try to kiss you."

"You already did! Or have you forgotten?"

"Oh ..."

Eyes widening self-consciously, she considers the memory he's referring to, "... I actually had forgotten all about that. We were so little."

Well I certainly didn't forget.

Staring back at her now, Evan shakes his head, "Who wants a boyfriend they never kiss?"

"Me. In fact, I'll never want to do anything with you. Never, ever. I promise."

Blinking at one another, Evan actually debates this. You have to understand ... he doesn't have any feelings for her - never has, never will. But he does know they're expected ... and at this moment, he can't help but feel so bad for her.

She's just so bloody sad ...

"No kissing? No ... stuff?"

"No."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Just hands."

"Hands?"

"Hold my hand. Not often, just once in a while. When we're around our friends, between classes, things like that. That's it."

Leaning forward, he whispers to her, "Will it help you feel less sad? Less alone?"

I'm not sad -

I'm not!

I'm not -

"Yes."

"Alright then. Fine."