Evelyn Riddle: The Forgotten Chronicles- Book 5

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Evelyn worked at the back bench of the empty classroom, eyes fixed on the cauldron as she tipped powdered dittany into the simmering brew. She counted the grains automatically, like it might keep her from feeling the ache pulsing beneath the bandage on her hand.

It didn't.

The pain spread in dull waves, distracting and stubborn. Her fingers tightened around the vial of lavender oil, just a little too hard and it slipped. Glass hit stone and shattered, the sound cracking through the room and purple shards skidded across the floor. She swore loudly, dropping her face into her hands. 

The quiet creak of the door startled her, snapping her head up. 

Draco stood in the doorway, half-lit by torchlight, his expression closed off in a way that made her chest tighten. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, posture stiff and careful. His eyes moved slowly from the broken glass, to the cauldron, to her.

Something tight twisted in her stomach. He hadn't looked at her properly in days.

"You shouldn't be down here," he said at last. He stepped inside and shut the door gently behind him. "You're not supposed to be."

Evelyn straightened at once, spine stiffening on instinct. "I'm not doing anything wrong," she said, keeping her voice steady. "It's just potions. Snape won't mind."

Draco lifted an eyebrow, but he didn't answer right away. He came closer instead, slow and measured, his gaze flicking to the cauldron and then—too quickly—to the bandaged hand she was holding tight against her side.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

There was something sharply accusatory under the words. It made her chest tighten.

"I'm making a salve," Evelyn replied, her voice quieter now. "For... for everyone. It'll help with their hands."

Draco nodded slowly, his expression unreadable as he went quiet again. Evelyn shifted uncomfortably, not quite sure what she was supposed to do here. She focused on the cauldron. That felt safest.

"You should have told me," he finally said, his voice low but tinged with frustration.

She flinched, just a little. "Told you what?" she asked, eyes still fixed on the potion.

She knew exactly what he meant. Playing dumb was a bad idea. His jaw tightened.

"About Potter's little club," he snapped. "About what you were doing."

Bitterness rose fast and familiar. She bit the inside of her cheek and turned on him. "I couldn't tell you. You were part of her stupid squad, Draco. If I'd said anything, you would've—"

"Stopped you?" he cut in, his voice jumping, sharp enough to crack the air between them. "Yes. Of course I would have. What you were doing was reckless. It was stupid."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Exactly. That's why I couldn't tell you. You wouldn't have understood."

Draco looked her over like he was deciding whether to argue or explode. She didn't look away.

"Wouldn't have understood?" he echoed. "Do you really think I don't know what it's like to want to do something?"

"Then why are you so angry?" she shot back.

"Because you didn't tell me!" Draco's voice echoed through the empty classroom. He took a step toward her, anger bleeding into something uglier. "You didn't trust me enough to let me in. And now look at you!" His gaze dropped to her hand. "Look what she did to you."