tangled hearts

||15|| - Sneaking

||15|| - Sneaking

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When it reached 2 o'clock I sneakily moved away from the marauders and went to the transfiguration room. It wasn't too far from where I was. As I slipped into the dimly lit classroom, Evan was already there, leaning against one of the desks, his usual smirk replaced with a look of uncertainty. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence hung thick between us, filled with the unspoken tension from the last time we saw each other.

"You actually came," he said, sounding relieved but cautious.

"I need answers, Evan," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. "I need to know why you kept things from me."

He looked down, running a hand through his hair, then sighed. "I didn't know how to explain it, Claire. It's not like I'm proud of... everything. And I knew you wouldn't get it, not really. You're different."

"Different how?" I asked, crossing my arms, trying to protect myself from whatever hurtful answer might come.

"Different as in... not tied to things the way I am. I have family expectations, Claire. Friends who I can't just walk away from. And they're not the kind of people you just say 'no' to." His voice softened, and he looked down. "I didn't want to drag you into that."

I swallowed, trying to process what he was saying. "But you didn't even give me a chance. You could've told me, Evan. I thought... I thought you cared about me enough to be honest."

"I do care about you," he said, stepping forward. "That's why I kept it from you. I thought... maybe you'd hate me if you knew."

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard, and I felt my anger soften, just a little. "I don't hate you, Evan. I just wish you trusted me."

He let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Trusting people doesn't come easy, not when... not when you're in Slytherin. Everyone's got an angle, something they want. But you... you've always just been yourself."

I looked down, unsure what to say. Finally, I just shook my head. "Evan, I don't know what's going to happen. But if we're going to try and be anything... friends, or more... we can't keep secrets."

He looked at me, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "I can try, Claire. I promise."

"Alright," I said, giving him a small smile. "We'll start there."

He smiled back, and for the first time in days, I felt a weight lift off my chest. Maybe things would never be perfect between us, but for now, this was enough.

"Winter break is next week. You going home?" I said wondering how this would affect us.

"Yeah i am, you?"

"Mhm, all of us."

"I'll write you, Claire. Everyday." He said looking up at me with his stupid smirk plastered on his face.

His words lingered in the air, and I found myself smiling despite the lingering tension. "Every day, huh? You'd better mean that, Rosier," I teased, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

He grinned, his familiar smirk back. "Oh, I do. Expect long letters, too. I'll make sure to tell you every single, boring detail of life at home. That way, you'll actually miss me."

I rolled my eyes, but the idea of him writing every day made my heart feel a bit lighter. "Good. I'll hold you to that."

We stood there for a moment, neither of us quite ready to say goodbye yet, knowing that the break would mean weeks without stolen moments like these. There was a kind of electricity between us, something unsaid but deeply felt. He reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and I felt a warmth spread through me.