𝐎𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲, 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 (𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬) 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞. He would make snide remarks, and try to prod and poke her conscience when he could, but there was something different about it. There was something off.
Not that she was keeping track of his whereabouts, but Amara had repeatedly seen his name on the Map, solitary in the Astronomy Tower. She remembered their conversation about him going up there to feel sorry for himself, and she had begun to wonder if this was a more common occurance than she had originally thought. With Onai's words fresh in her mind and Evan's interesting and note quite convincing replies to her probing questions in the Tower, she couldn't help but feel as though there were many lives to be saved here; overlooked, simply, by prejudice and pigheadedness and narrow-minded, head-in-the-sand, Gryffindor bigotry.
At first it had seemed too heroic, too righteous, for someone like her (someone who so famously hated Slytherins for simply being Slytherins) to hatch a plan of shepherding, as she liked to call it. Sirius and James she knew she couldn't mention it to, and her and Remus had kind of avoided discussing anything related to the war in order to stay on fantastic terms.
Over the past few weeks, she'd noticed a rather pallid hue to Evan's overall appearance; he would be sarcastic, and snarky, and get under her skin like he usually did, but it lacked its regular gusto. It was less of an enjoyment and more of a routine; and it wasn't that it worried her, but she noticed it all the same.
She slung her bag onto the ground next to her chair in the Potions classroom, plopping down with a sigh and zero acknowledgment to the dark-haired Slytherin across from her. He surveyed her, frowning, before looking back at his desk. No snide greetings today.
She did not greet him. It was too contradictory, too pathetically painful. Every time she looked at him, all that Amara could see was his pained, tortured, crying face as he betrayed his friend, begging her to leave him alone. All she could see was the relish in his face as he led the group against Lily, standing over her with a feral grin. His interesting expression on the Astronomy Tower when he told her she had nothing he wanted; an odd mix of pity and rage and understanding.
He didn't need to feel sorry for her. He didn't need to understand her.
But Evan Rosier was someone Amara should not save. Not only was he surely unlikely to be compliant, she didn't deserve to save him. Not after torturing and snooping through his life. She frowned and leaned down, grabbing her quill from her bag.
Fuck. She had forgotton her inkwell.
She looked up at Evan, who was watching her lazily. He raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Amara paused.
"Go on, then," he prompted, eyebrow somehow raising even higher. "Ask me."
Amara shook her head in disbelief. "This isn't sex, you tosspot," she snapped, making to stand. "You can't just keep making me beg for everything."
"You should never tell me what I can and can't do," he said quietly, eyes trained on her unblinkingly.
Amara paused, not missing the double meaning in his words. Surely they weren't talking about ink anymore. "If I asked for your ink, you wouldn't even let me use it," she muttered, brushing past him. "I'm not in the mood to let myself down."
YOU ARE READING
𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍; 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫.
Fanfiction𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥. - - 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟖+; 𝐬𝐞𝐱...