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( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊 ) — the calm before the storm
Evangeline awoke at half-past five the next morning as abruptly and completely as if someone had yelled in her ear. Judging by her ghastly experiences at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, she wouldn't put it past it having been Sirius' eerie doppelgänger awakening her.
For a few moments, she lay immobile under the heavy velveteen covers, before having enough of the deafening silence and leaping out of bed. She shivered in her silk negligee, wrapping the first comforting clothing she could find around her bare shoulders — a maroon cardigan.
The brunette gently padded down the stairs, bumping into Harry on the second landing, past the heads of Kreacher's ancestors, and into the god-forsaken kitchen.
She knew the only reason the Potter boy had been awake was due to the anxiety of his upcoming hearing, so imagine her surprise upon entering the room and coming face-to-face with Arthur, Molly, Sirius, Remus, and Dora. They were all fully dressed apart from the Weasley matriarch, who was wearing a quilted, purple dressing gown — her relaxed state made the brunette feel slightly better about herself.
''Nice cardigan,'' Dora snickered, exchanging a sly smirk with Sirius.
Evangeline glanced down at her figure, then back up at the faces before her. All four of them wore large smirks, as if they knew something nobody else did, save for Remus' whose cheeks were flushed a dark crimson.
''So that's where it went,'' he muttered under his breath, mustering up the most this-isn't-awkward-at-all smile he possibly could at dawn. ''Keep it, it looks better on you anyway.''
Thankfully, Harry stole the spotlight as he entered, nearly knocking his Charms professor flying.
''Careful there, Harry, you are almost as bad as Dora.''
''It was one time! I said I was sorry!''
Molly got to her feet at once, fussing over a pot of porridge. ''Breakfast!''
''Morning, Harry,'' the half-blood yawned; her hair was blonde and in tight curls today. ''Sleep all right?''
''Yeah.''
''I've been up all night,'' she shuddered, drawing out a chair for the Potter boy and knocking over the one beside it. ''Come and sit down . . . ''
''You and me both,'' the pure-blood sighed, wincing at the fresh injury tainting her delicate skin. It was a fairly deep gash, oozing a red anger. ''It will be a miracle if I leave this house in one piece.''
