how long can we just exist?
Evan
The past few days at Hogwarts had been a nightmare, Mattheo was as volatile as he’d ever been, viciously snapping at anyone who got too close. Salazar forbid anyone mention Hermione. His ire was like stray spellfire, ready to hit anyone in his proximity.
Typically Evan wouldn’t follow him back to Slytherin castle opting for privacy to sharing the same roof as their Lord, but he felt he needed to be there. He needed to see that Hermione was okay with his own eyes, despite having heard from Severus that she was recovering well. They’d been ordered not to divulge that she had woken up, and while he was sure they were to catch hell from Mattheo, it was for the best.
As they strode out of the floo at the castle a sense of rightness flowed through him, the anxiety that had buzzed under his skin dimmed to a low hum. He followed closely behind Mattheo as they made their way to the family wing, his brow furrowing as he noticed Dolohov and Rowle standing sentry at the doors. Before he could inquire their purpose Mattheo spoke, “What are you doing here Dolohov?” His name was a slur on Mattheo’s tongue.
Dolohov didnt bother addressing Mattheo, turning to lock eyes with Evan instead, “We were ordered to watch the door, no one but family allowed in.” His gaze hardened as he no doubt assumed Evan would try to follow Mattheo through the doors.
Mattheo’s wand tapped against his thigh as his shoulders tensed and relaxed repeatedly. No doubt trying to reign in his violent impulses. “You're lucky you're fit enough to stand anywhere after what you did to Mia, on orders or not. Evan is coming with me, resume your post.”
Evan was surprised Mattheo hadn’t cursed Dolohov, his own hand twitching as he palmed his wand, but he was probably eager to find Hermione.
Once they stood outside the door he grabbed Mattheo’s shoulder halting his movements. “I will stay outside, it's best you talk to her alone. Relax Mattheo you can't go in there angry she's already been through enough. Your anger and need for vengeance has more worthy targets than your sister.” He gave him a grim smile as the boy gave one firm nod before he squared his shoulders and rapped lightly on the door before entering.
He wanted to be in the room. Wanted to see her for himself but they needed time alone. Not only did Mattheo need to see that she was okay, that she was healed and whole once again, he finally had the chance to tell her the truth. Evan couldnt invade on that.
She had been through a terrible trauma, not only at the castle but by finding out she was not who she thought she was. That the people she had trusted all this time had betrayed her. It was a lot to come to terms with, all that disruption was bound to leave her reeling.
His fingers twitched anxiously as he sat on the floor back against the wall, he knew it was ill-advised but he took a fag from his trouser pocket and lit it with a wave of his hand. She was fine there was no reason for him to be anxious at her meeting with Mattheo, but being so close and unable to see her for himself had left him unsettled.
He would wait for them to talk, and then see her for himself later. Severus had handed him a wrapped package for her. He was unsure of what the contents were but the severity of Sev’s face told him it was important.
“It is vital that Hermione receive this Evan. It was among her belongings when we found her at the ministry. Discretion is paramount.” He’d given him a stern glance which had Evan’s hackles raising at Severus’ tone. He was a self-aware wizard, he knew he leaned towards mischievous most of the time but he’d been on his best behaviour since returning to Britain and resented Severus speaking to him like a firstie.
He’d wanted to lash out verbally but chose to clench his jaw letting his mask of cavalier indifference wash over him instead.
He'd give them time to talk and adjust and then he would give her the package. He'd leash his impulse to immerse himself in her life and he would leave.
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Mattheo
His heart beat furiously in his chest as he entered Mia’s room. It was odd, looking at a new face, but he found comfort in its similarity to his own. It was tangible undeniable proof of what they were to each other. What he was to her. Not Harry. Not Ron or any other member of the Order. He was her brother in blood and magic.
She was curled up on the bed, her face splotchy from tears. He wondered briefly if they’d fallen before or after she fell asleep. If something in the castle had disturbed her enough to make her cry he could take care of it for her. He would do anything for her. It wouldn't be so easy if it was dreams. He couldnt fight off his own nightmares without a bottle. Whether it be alcohol or a dreamless sleep potion. The nightmares came at random though he had less of them since meeting Mia. He hoped his proximity would push back the cloud of torment that rained inside her mind.
He hovered the green velvet chair from the corner, moving it until it was directly next to the bed. He wanted to comfort her. Wanted her to wake up so that he could talk to her. Make sure she was okay. That the visions in the flames hadn't come true. That she was here. But he was also angry. Feelings of betrayal warred with his need to care for her. Logically it wasn't fair for him to be so cross with her at her own injuries. It wouldn't do to blame her after the atrocity she’d just survived. But he was enraged. So full of it that he wasn't sure who he wasn't mad at. His father, Evan, Draco, Hermione, Harry, Dumbledore, he was mad at them all. If she had just listened to him. If his father had trusted him. If Evan had warned him sooner. If Harry wasn't such a gullible prick. If Draco hadn’t stopped him from leaving to get her. If Dumbledore wasn't such a manipulative asshole. All of this was avoidable.
He deserved an award for not wreaking havoc when he’d been forced to return to Hogwarts, but he needed to be allowed to return next year. Mia would never abandon her schooling. Or that pest Harry Potter.
While she slept his anger and contentment spun in his mind, two sides of a coin. He’d just finished using the toilet in the attached bathroom when he heard her shuffling in the bed, rushing to wash and dry his hands, he scrambled to her. His anger clouded his mind once more.
It was like he had no control over himself or his words as his worry formed into weapons and aimed themselves at the person most precious to him.
“What were you thinking? You could've died! You almost died! I just got you back and you almost got yourself murdered!”
He wanted to say. How are you feeling? Do you need anything? I was so worried. I thought I lost you.
It was an out-of-body experience. As though he was watching a memory in a pensive as he witnessed himself interrogate her.
He’d started pacing in front of the huge four-poster bed once he started his tirade and only stopped to look to her for answers. Then he saw the look on her face, and he seemed to gain control of himself at the sight of his Mia so terrified of him. She should never be afraid, not of him. He put his hands up in surrender and placed his wand on the bed in front of her so it remained in view. He’d approached her slowly, like a rabbit you thought might bolt when you got too close.
“I’m sorry I didnt mean to yell at you. I get… lost sometimes. It takes a moment to find myself again.” He cleared his throat and moved to sit back in his chair at her side. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything? I wanted to be here when you woke up but I had to be back at the castle for exams.”
He’d lost eye contact with her while getting settled, but once he looked back up at her hazel orbs filled with unshed tears his heart clenched. She didnt want him here. Not with her. Probably blamed him. He needed to leave. Before either of them once again said things they couldn't take back.
“I’ll leave. I’m sorry, I was just so worried.” The words tasted like ash on his tongue. Unnatural and burned as his throat tightened.
Her voice was a quiet whisper, “Is it true? Am I…?”
She looked so lost, her hazel eyes glistening as they begged him to tell her lies. It was selfish he knew. He could've told her it didn't matter. They could talk about it another time. But pride and ego pushed the need to comfort her aside for a moment. He’d lived in this torment for months now. Knowing and unable to tell, unable to reach over the chasm that had separated them and bring her to safety. He had no such intention now. He’d tell her the truth and damn the consequences. They would overcome them together. As they were always meant to do.
He’d rip apart all that she was before. All that was left of that insecure girl he’d met on the Hogwarts Express and help her start anew. Help her fix the broken parts of herself so she can heal. So she could be who she was always meant to be.
“Yes. It’s true. You are.”
She burst into loud sobs and scrambled to grab his hand tugging him over the edge of her bed as she grasped onto him. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and he buried his head into her curls. She still smelled like home. He hadn't been hugged much as a child. Not that he’d felt unloved, Reg and Evan loved him regardless of how he’d come to be their charge. They just weren't overly affectionate. Especially once he began getting older. He received hugs but nothing like this. Nothing that filled him with so much belonging and sorrow at the same time. He let her cry until her sobs lessened to hiccups.
“Scoot over Mia, I’m getting in.”
He watched her struggle for a few moments before scooping her up in his arms and gently placing her in the middle of the bed while he took the spot she’d laid in a moment ago. He turned to look at her, reaching a hand up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear as tears still tracked down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Godric that doesn't even-” he tried to interrupt her, “Mia-”
“No, I need to get this out. I'm so sorry Matty,” hiccup “truly. I didn't know. I couldn't have known. And Merlin, I was so horrid to you.”
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Hermione
It was comforting yet odd to have him back again. She looked at him now and saw pieces of herself she’d seen in the mirror. She reached a hand out to cup his cheek while placing the other on her own as if she might map out the features they shared. Feel the peak of their cheekbones and trace the slope of their brows. She wondered briefly if it was as odd for him as it was for her. After all, she never had to look at herself, but he’d gotten to know the face of someone else. Of Hermione. Hermione was a fallacy. A mirage carefully built by Dumbledore. She was not the same girl. Their father had called her Khalida. A lost daughter, stolen at birth. A continuation of a mother that she would never know. A goddess given earthy form. The other half of Mattheo. To Mattheo she was Mia. The twin who’d scorned and pushed him away. Called another brother. But she didn't know who she was now. Two identities that completely warred with each other. Muggleborn best friend to Harry Potter. Daughter of Lord Voldemort.
Hermione didn't know what all this change meant for her, still grappling with the memories that assaulted her when she least expected it. She couldn't just go back to Dumbledore and the Order. Not after what she’d been told.
There were no words to describe the rightness that bloomed within her having Mattheo nearby. They’d gone so long without speaking. She’d thrown her relationship to Harry in his face over and over again. Harry who left her behind. Mattheo who had warned her. He’d never expected anything from her but acceptance. Hermione knew that feeling all too well. She didnt need Harry or the others. He was there. He’d tried to protect her even though she’d tried to hide their friendship like a dirty secret.
She caught herself relieved that she’d been rescued from the Ministry. Not only would she have probably died if they hadn't taken her, but she couldn't imagine looking at him right now. She couldn't fathom trying to come to grips with her new reality while surrounded by the old one. Surrounded by people who had suspected and scorned her. But that left her with people who fighting for blood supremacy, the antithesis of all she stood for.
She knew she couldnt hide from reality, though she wanted to stay nestled into his side and hide from the world that now felt so new. So broken. She had so many questions for him.
They spoke for a while before a peaceful silence blanketed over them. Content for now to just bask in each other's presence when a soft knock interrupted them and an unknown voice filtered in from the hallway. “Mattheo it’s Evan. May I come in for a moment?”
She looked at Mattheo in panic, she didnt know this man. While she knew he would protect her if needed, the thought of being in such a confined space with an unknown wizard left her heartbeat racing and stomach queasy. Mattheo grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly as he leaned over to the side of the bed, picked up her wand and handed it to her. While reassured that she had a means to protect herself it was still odd to hold the snakewood wand now that she knew who it used to belong to. She steeled herself and looked to Mattheo and searched his eyes for any sign of worry or discomfort, having found none she nodded. It would be okay. Whatever it was they would handle it together.
Mattheo’s voice rang through the room as he responded, “Come on in Evan. I don't think you guys have been formally introduced, in this form at least.” A chuckle escaped him and Hermione turned to glance at him inquisitively.
Hermione’s heart skipped a beat while she took in his visage, so at odds with anyone she thought would be associated with Lord Voldemort. He was tall with broad shoulders his skin a tawny brown that seemed to have a bronze glow to it, full lips and a strong brow. She was surprised by his platinum hair shorn close to his head, and equally blonde stubble that framed his angled jaw and highlighted his cheekbones. Her eyes lingered for a while before she took in the rest of him, a leather jacket slung over one shoulder, his white dress shirt had a few buttons opened revealing the necklaces that hung around his neck and rested on his revealed chest, and sleeves rolled up, showcasing muscular forearms.
“Hermione, this is Evan. He helped raise me along with Regulus Black. You met him in his animagus form at Hogwarts-”
Mattheo’s voice became static, washed away and drowned out by the cacophony of thoughts that whirled in her mind.
His eyes. There was something so familiar about his eyes. Evan. Evan Rosier. While overcoming the shock that not only was Ron Weasley right about something, this unknown male was standing in her room. He’d been in her room before. Oh good Godric! Mattheo’s familiar that had shadowed her most of the year was an animagus. He’d been sent to watch her.
It was too much. They’d all deceived her. One after the other. Her eyes narrowed as her previous appreciation for Evan turned to suspicion and her relief at seeing Mattheo turned to distrust. Hermione pushed out from under Mattheo’s arm, the weight of it along her shoulder blades suddenly too much to bear.
Her breath quickened and her heart clenched at this newfound knowledge. She felt like a pawn who’d been meticulously manoeuvred. She’d been lured away from relative safety and drawn so far into enemy territory that there was no way out.
She got as far away from Mattheo as she could while staying on the bed, grasped the duvet and cocooned herself as if the feather and silk might protect her.
Mattheo reached out to her, andher body recoiled instinctively, leaning further away from him. She looked between the two males. She watched as their lips moved and could see Mattheo’s anger return as he threw his hands up and yelled at Evan, the vein on his peck pronounced and pulsating. She looked to Evan who reached a hand into his pocket. Her heart began to beat as he pulled a small wrapped package out.
Ba bumm. Ba bumm. Ba bumm.
Evan approached her unwrapping the package as the metres between them decreased.
Ba bumm. Ba bumm. Ba bumm.
She felt the ghost of fingers on her fist, lightly unclenching them from the duvet to place her snakewood wand back within her grasp. She gripped it tight. The skin on her knuckles prickled at the strain.
Ba bumm. Ba bumm. Ba bumm.
He was in front of the bed now. So close he could climb up if he so wished, but in his hand, laid in a beautiful silk-lined case, was the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries.
"I think this belongs to you."