Final book! Evie had been sent away to Beauxbatons Academy for young ladies. The strain on their relationship was too much for Remus Lupin while he was still teaching at Hogwarts and had decided this was best for both of them.
During her 4th year a...
Summer at the Burrow had flown by faster than I'd ever imagined. It felt like I had barely unpacked my trunk before I had to start filling it up again. I stared at it now, sitting half-open at the foot of my bed, mocking me with the inevitability of leaving. Leaving England, leaving this place I had come to think of as home, and most of all—leaving George.
A knot twisted in my stomach, the dread of saying goodbye building in waves that grew heavier with each passing minute. It didn't feel fair.
I sat on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest. Outside the window, I could hear the distant laughter of the Weasleys downstairs, the sounds of plates clattering as they cleaned up after dinner. I had snuck away early, unable to handle the thought of sitting through one more family meal, pretending I wasn't about to have my heart ripped out.
A soft knock on the door broke my thoughts. Before I could even answer, the door creaked open, and George stepped in, his familiar lopsided grin lighting up the room.
"I thought I'd find you up here," he said quietly, closing the door behind him. His voice was gentle, but there was something in his eyes—an understanding, a sadness that mirrored my own.
I forced a smile, though my throat felt tight. "Just avoiding the inevitable," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
George crossed the room and sat down beside me on the bed, close enough that our legs were almost touching. The warmth of his vanilla and fireworks scent grounded me, but it also made it harder. Harder to think about leaving. Harder to think about how much I cared for him.
"I wish you didn't have to go," he said softly, his eyes flickering to the half-packed trunk. "It's not going to be the same without you around, Evie." Taking a deep breath he continued, "Just when I got used to having you around again, you are leaving."
I felt the sting behind my eyes before the tears even came. I blinked furiously, trying to keep them at bay, but it was no use. They spilled over, silent and bitter, dripping onto my hands as I pulled my knees tighter to my chest.
"I don't want to go," I choked out, my voice cracking under the weight of all the things I couldn't say. That leaving him behind felt like leaving a part of myself behind.
George didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Instead, he reached out and gently wiped away my tears with his thumb, his touch so tender that it only made me cry harder.
"Hey, none of that now," he whispered, his voice soothing, though I could hear the tremor in it. "It's not goodbye forever, you know."
The truth was, it felt like goodbye. Every second that passed, every tear that fell, felt like time slipping away, like I was losing him before I even had a chance to hold on.
He leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around me, and I buried my face in his shoulder, letting the sobs that had been building all day finally break free. George held me tight, his hand running soothingly through my hair as if he could somehow erase the distance that was about to grow between us.
"I'll miss you," I whispered into the fabric of his shirt, my voice muffled.
"I'll miss you too," he replied, his breath warm against the top of my head. "But we'll continue to write, yeah? And Christmas isn't that far away."
I nodded against him, though the thought of letters and holidays felt hollow compared to the reality of being here, now, with him.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of whispered words and stolen moments, but all too soon, it was over. The morning came, and with it, the finality of my departure.
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The train ride back to Beauxbatons was long, cold, and unbearably lonely. Sirius had left the burrow a few weeks before I did, wanting me to have time for myself with the Weasley without feeling watched. I was grateful then, but I was regretting the emptiness now. I sat by the window, watching the countryside blur past, my fingers absently fiddling with the charm bracelet Fred and George had given me for my birthday a few weeks ago. The small silver charms dangled from the chain, the tiny broomstick, the little joke box , and a purple stone that had begun shifting colours with my mood, just like the Twins said it would.
Today, it was a deep shade of violet, reflecting the swirling mix of sadness and frustration that had settled over me. I kept twisting the bracelet around my wrist, as though the feel of it could somehow tether me to the warmth and laughter of the Burrow, to the memories I wasn't ready to let go of.
And yet, the further I travelled from England, the further away it all felt.
Uncle Remus hadn't shown up all summer. Not once. I had written to him, over and over again, hoping for a response that never came. Not even an owl to say he was busy. The absence of his letters had become a familiar ache, a disappointment that dug deeper with every passing week. I shouldn't have been surprised. I felt abandoned, again.
First by my parents, who were long gone. Then by Remus, who was supposed to be the one person I could count on. And now by fate, cruel enough to throw me into a family like the Weasleys, who made me feel so welcome and loved, only to rip me away again.
By the time I arrived at Beauxbatons, bitterness had settled into the pit of my stomach, heavy and unshakable. The grand, beautiful halls of the academy felt cold and distant. As I dragged my trunk up the winding staircase to my dormitory, I barely registered the elegant tapestries or the soft glow of the chandeliers. It all felt so far away, so clean cut and precise, wildly different from the world I had just left behind.
There was one small mercy this year, I had a room to myself. No more shared space, no more forced smiles with girls who didn't know me, didn't care about me or like me at all. At least here, in this tiny corner of the castle, I could be alone with my thoughts.
As I sat on my bed, staring out at the moonlit grounds, I fiddled with the charm bracelet again. The purple stone shimmered under the light, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the end. That maybe letters and holidays could be enough. But deep down, I knew it wouldn't be easy.
The summer is over. And with it, the small slice of life I used to have.
