Vigor | h. granger

F I V E

The next two days of treatment left Evan feeling like he had been stabbed in the kidney, but he had full use of his right arm once more, as well as his entire mouth. Hermione had laughed so hard she had cried when he had showed him, when then, in turn, made Evan burst into soppy, fat tears as well.

However, as Evan slowly got better and better physically, his mind began to obsess over his revenge plan. The culprits had been found, but had gone unpunished, save for some hefty detentions. A foul demon had possessed Evan, and it was almost all he could think about. His dreams were haunted with images of Evan giving the Slytherins what they deserved. In one dream, he had left them paralyzed as he had been. In another, he had dangled them off of the astronomy tower until they had begged for help.

Every time that Evan had a thought, he felt guilty when he realized what his brain was formulating. What had been done to him was horrible, as were the people who had done it, but he desperately tried to convince himself that revenge wasn't the answer.

But he could push them into the black lake after putting the full body bind curse on them until they drowned.

Evan tried desperately to be a good person. In addition, he did not want to spend his final days in Azkaban.

But he could lure them into the Forbidden Forest until they came across a dangerous creature and Evan would make his daring escape, letting them be at the mercy of the beast.

Evan couldn't do that even if he wanted to; he couldn't apparate and it would be a right sight to see him riding a broom.

But Evan could string them up from the ceiling of the Great Hall, humiliate them endlessly, and wait until they beg him for forgiveness to refuse it and toss them aside.

That Saturday, as Hermione had been inviting him to come and sit with her at the Black Lake, Evan had confessed it to her.

"I think I'm a terrible person," Evan admitted in a silence as she pushed his wheelchair to the Black Lake.

"Why on Earth would you think that?" Hermione asked, reminding him of Professor McGonagall. "You're one of the loveliest people I know."

"I keep having dark thoughts," Evan said dismissively, trying to prove her wrong.

"Everyone has dark thoughts," Hermione replied stubbornly.

"I want revenge on the people who did this to me," Evan replied. "I've dreamed about it."

"Evan, that's perfectly natural. You certainly feel resentful towards them because they did this to you, but I'm sure you're angry that they didn't get punished as much as you think they should. That makes your morals crumble within the darkest parts of your mind. Don't feel ashamed," Hermione said. She smiled at him fondly, despite the fact that he didn't see it. There weren't very many people outside, as it was rather gloomy and cold, but Hermione had brought two jars of charmed fire with her to keep them warm.

"Yeah but..." Evan trailed off, not really sure why he was resisting the normalcy of his mind. Hermione stood next to him and he saw the smile on her face.

"You're ridiculous," Hermione said, running a hand through his hair.

"You're amazing," Evan replied, smiling back at her. There was a pause. Evan could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Hermione swallowed and took a seat on the cold grass next to him, leaning her head on his arm.

"I spoke to Madam Pomfrey the other day, after you were asleep," Hermione said, her demeanor dropping to mimic the gloomy sky.

"Yes?" Evan asked.

"You told me you were dying," Hermione said, her voice thick. "I asked her how long you had left." Evan smiled, his eyes sad as they looked into Hermione's.

"What did she say?" Evan asked, his hand finding Hermione's, especially happy to use his new motor skills to connect more with Hermione.

"Six weeks," Hermione replied, sighing. "And I didn't want you to, you know.... go before I told you that I like you, Evan. Like really, really, like. I like like you, Evan. And it's okay if you'd rather stay friends, but I didn't want to regret not telling you for the rest of my life and... oh Evan!"

Hermione had brought herself to Evan's height, no matter how awkward, and had wrapped him in as gentle of a hug as Hermione could give. Evan used his good arm to return the hug. He brought it up to her face as she pulled away.

"Hermione," he whispered. She could tell that he was trying not to cry by the glistening of his eyes. If it had been any windier than it was, his words might bave gotten swept away from him. "Kiss me."

Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips gently to his. If Evan hadn't been kissing Hermione Granger, he would have thought it was the end for him– it felt like his heart was exploding.

Hermione pulled away and smiled. "You're a good soul, Evan Velasco," she sighed, stroking his hair. "And I will enjoy every second of time that we have left."

"Thanks, Hermione," Evan mumbled. He smiled at her brightly. "I've been waiting to do that since second year."

Hermione giggled, which in turn made Evan laugh, as he would have never suspected a giggle to come out of Hermione's mouth.

"Can I kiss you again?" Hermione asked, almost shyly.

"I'm not complaining," Evan replied, smirking. Hermione grinned and kissed him once more, savoring every part of him, as if it would would be her last time, hoping that it wouldn't be.

// you tell me I look beautiful
with tears run down my face //