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The following day, Evelyn slipped out of the tower alone. Her feet knew the path to the hospital wing from her many recent trips to visit Ron.


She arrived before she was ready, but she knew she didn't have much time. Ginny would be coming along after breakfast she was sure, and she didn't want to have another confrontation with her—it was easier to avoid her.


The wing was quiet, and she wished she had been more thoughtful as the door immediately announced her presence by slamming shut behind her. She blushed, but moved deeper into the room, noticing the figure that stirred behind the privacy screen as she moved towards it.


Rounding the corner, Harry and Ron came into view. The latter appeared to be sleeping still, soft snores drifting from his bed that seemed too real to be apart of his ruse. Harry, on the other hand, was sitting up in bed; his head still bandaged but not done up as significantly as it had been the previous afternoon. He was examining a potions book, which he quickly snapped shut when he saw her coming near. She smiled widely, relieved to see him grinning back at her.


"Hey there," she said softly, "You're looking well."


"If you call this mummified look well," he joked, his hand moving to his head self-consciously.


"After the hit you took, anything above dead is well in my book," she joked, and Harry laughed. "How're you feeling?"


"Good, actually. Though I think I'll be here another day still. Pomfrey doesn't want to let me go."


"I'm sure it's because you're such a pleasant patient to have." Evelyn smirked a bit, "And you probably keep Ron in good spirits. I'm sure he's been driving her crazy."


"I think you might be spot on."


He smiled at her again, and a huge wave of relief washed over Evelyn. She hadn't realized until that moment that she had been anxious over his state. Not being there when he woke up had left her questioning how his mental faculties would be, and whether or not he truly was going to be fine. Sitting there, joking with her, he was fine—more than fine—and her concerns started to ebb away.


She took a seat at the edge of his bed, and began to recount everything that had happened on the pitch the other day. He asked her questions, and she happily provided answers, surprised he hadn't gotten this information from Ginny already. She let slip that she had been worried and had come straight to the hospital wing as soon as she could escape the stands.


"You did?" Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hair.


"Of course," she replied. Her voice was steady, but she could feel her cheeks heat up. "I was worried." Harry still looked skeptical, so she added the phrase that killed her a bit, "A good friend always worries, right?"


Harry muttered his agreement, and she continued filling him in, ending abruptly with their departure. She was careful to leave out pieces that would cast a bad light on Ginny. She didn't want Harry to have any idea of her feelings towards Ginny. In her opinion, it didn't matter what she thought. As she had pointed out to Hermione, Harry had picked Ginny and that's what mattered.


“So, did McLaggen threaten you before the game or was this just an unhappy accident?” Evelyn asked. She was perched on the edge of his bed, as close to him as she’d let herself get.


“No—I almost wish he had. I could have hexed him and avoided all this.” Harry paused for a moment, something moving over his face. Then he added tentatively, “I did have a run-in with Malfoy before the game though. He was with your sister.”


“Oh?” Evelyn tilted her head to the side inquisitively.


“I think he’s up to something. He was going somewhere with her and Manos, while everyone else was down at the pitch. He’s planning something.”


Hermione had mentioned Harry’s suspicion of Draco Malfoy, which he’d maintained since Katie Bell’s cursing. Evelyn thought over her response carefully before saying, “If he was with Elizabeth, then I think you’re probably right. It's likely they're planning something together.”


“You agree with me?” Harry looked dumbstruck, as if this was the first time anyone had believed him. Thinking on everything she knew that had happened to him this year alone, she thought that might be true.


“Elizabeth’s dangerous, Harry. She doesn’t play around. If she was with him, then there was a reason.” Evelyn paused, then added more to herself than to Harry, “We just need to find out what they’re up to.”


Harry had a determined look on his face when she looked back to him, and his hand was kneading the side of his bandages. She immediately regretted her last comment had been aloud. She didn’t want to excite him, and she knew he needed rest.


Checking the clock on the wall, she smiled and cast a sad glance at Harry. "I've got to get going. It’s been an hour already. You should get some rest. Plus, I'm sure you'll have more visitors soon, and I don't want to be in the way."


"You're not in the way." He replied earnestly.


She chuckled, knowing that wasn't at all how Ginny felt. "Still, homework and all that—I've got to keep up with it. If nothing else so you have someone to copy when you're released.


It was Harry's turn to chuckle then, and he added playfully, "Don't tease me, Evie."


"Wouldn't dream of it."    



Harry watched her go. He felt excited, invigorated. She believed him. She agreed with him. Hell, she’d come to see him. It felt like it had been ages since they'd had a proper conversation, and he realized then that he had missed those talks with her. They had talked quite frequently, coming to and from dueling practices together, at meals, and between classes. Things had been strange between them since she'd come back from her trip, and he hadn't quite fully understood what had changed between them. Sometimes, he had wondered if it had been his relationship with Ginny. It was, after all, a major variable that had changed. But since she didn't fancy him, he had ruled it out.


He had reasoned instead that she was overwhelmed with the coursework since coming back. It had definitely picked up with exams ahead, and he thought that maybe it was a big change from her American school or she was still catching up from everything that had happened in the fall. Or, his heart sunk at the thought, the other likely reason was that she had pulled away because things had started up with that American guy again. The way she'd fled the Room of Requirement during their last practice and the frequent trips to the Owlery felt like evidence of that. He twisted the bed sheet distractedly in his hands, trying to decide if it was worth the embarrassment to ask Hermione.


He knew she would answer, but then she would lecture him. She'd remind him of Ginny, his girlfriend.




Ginny was wonderful. She was interested in Quidditch, she was smart, and she always cut through the crap and went right to the point. He liked that she was brazen and brave, and she always seemed to know what she wanted. At times, she was a bit intimidating. Fiery, he thought, perhaps that was the right word.


He liked all these things about her, but there were things that rubbed at him. His lips turned down at the corners as he continued to think about Ginny. Obviously, she wasn't perfect. She was also possessive, stubborn, and—surprisingly—needy. Not in the stereotypical ways that he expected girls to be, but in a way that made it clear that she needed to have his full attention more often than not. She begged to be front of mind, in little ways like her affectionate touches and in big ways like her constant presence at his side.


Harry worried that she needed him too much and that she required too much from him. After all his conversations with Dumbledore, he feared that he wouldn't be able to do what he needed to do while he was with her.


His lips turned down further, as his brain continued on, forming a comparison. Ginny and Evelyn had a lot in common, especially on paper. Evelyn, too, was smart and brave. She seemed to know what she wanted, particularly after her memories returned. She was stubborn in her own right. However, Evelyn wasn't needy; she was incredibly self-sufficient. She had been forced to grow up after her parents were killed, and she admitted she was more serious and focused than she had been just a year ago. She was managing her memories, which seemed to require more strength and patience than Harry could fathom. She generally seemed more in control of her emotions and of herself than Ginny, who was quick tempered. Harry had a feeling that she would make an excellent Occlumens. Most important to him, she could duel better than some of the Order members, which made him feel as though he'd never need to worry about her. When the battle came, and he knew it would, she would handle herself. She wouldn’t need him.


He briefly wondered what it would be like to be with her, to really be with Evelyn. To know that she wanted him the way he had wanted her only a few months ago. He thought back to how he had wanted to escape from Grimmauld Place for a day over the holiday, with just her, and he immediately wondered if that desire put him in the same boat as Ginny: constricting, possessive, needy. He shuddered to think of it, but reassured himself quickly. Evelyn wouldn't allow him to be needy, let alone possessive. It wasn't in her nature to be possessed, he knew, and she wouldn't want to possess anyone. She would want a partner, an equal. Someone who would challenge her, and who would bear the weight of things alongside her—and who, simultaneously, could be lighthearted and loving.


Being with Evelyn, he realized, would be more akin to fulfilling a want than a need. There would be more active choice involved, and there was something empowering and desirous about that distinction. At times, he could feel his wants spilling out. He had been caught more than once staring at her, and had almost kissed her in the Room of Requirement last time they'd met. Even more, he said stupid things like "don't tease me" in regular conversations. He was daft to think she was interested in him. Even if she had been over the holiday and his assumptions had been spot on (which he felt was nearly impossible), he had picked Ginny.


Ginny—who had been there, who was eager, and interested, and beautiful—was his girlfriend now. They were good together, he reasoned, or at least not so horribly matched to warrant a break-up. She wanted to be with him, and her family loved him. He cast a brief glance at Ron, and wondered if a break-up with Ginny would mean losing his best friend and his surrogate family. How does someone even articulate a break-up, he wondered. He had never had to do it before.


His heart was heavy with the thought of breaking-up with Ginny, until suddenly reality snapped into place. Evelyn wasn't interested, his brain was suddenly screaming at him. He huffed aloud, a downcast look washing over his face. And Ginny was great. He liked Ginny.


He sank into his pillow, feeling tired and disgruntled. That foolish feeling, same as from the holiday break, flared up in him, and he thought again of the photo Hermione had sent and of the way that American guy had looked at her. Will I ever get to look at her like that—and have her look back at me the way she looked at him?, he wondered, despite all the reasons not to.



Hermione left the dorm early Monday morning to meet Harry and Ron, hoping to escort them to breakfast. Their stay in the infirmary was complete, and both had been successfully patched up. Before she left, Evelyn had made Hermione promise that she wouldn't tell Harry about the confrontational interaction between Ginny and his friends, and Hermione had hesitantly agreed. Evelyn had yet to dig deeper into what had transpired and how Hermione had acted, and she continued to wonder what else Hermione thought about the relationship—and if she knew, like Serenity had known.


Hermione had been friends with Ginny, first by way of Ron and then in their own right, for six years. She had been the younger girl's confidant, and had even trained her (and alongside her) as a member of Dumbledore's Army. In Evelyn's opinion, Hermione and Ginny were practically sisters—but she knew better than anyone how relations between sisters could sour. She didn't want to be the reason Hermione pulled away from her friendship with Ginny, but she noticed distance growing between the two girls. The look that had passed over Hermione's face in the hospital wing had said as much.


Amidst her thoughts, Evelyn had arrived at the Great Hall and took the vacant spot next to Seamus at the Gryffindor table. Seamus had been increasingly friendly since the holiday and especially after the Quidditch match. They fell into amiable conversation, which Evelyn appreciated. She knew she was perceived as a bit of an oddity, even among her housemates, after her behavior in the fall, but she felt herself slowly chipping away at that perception. Every time she did something “normal,” like cheering on the house team, worrying over the health of the captain, or carrying on decent conversation, the Gryffindors seemed to accept her more. It was beginning to feel as if she had allies; not so much that they were all best friends, but that if a Slytherin attempted to hex her in the hall one of the Gryffindors might cast a shield spell at the very least. Her smile widened at the thought, as she continued to agree with Seamus that the Defense Against the Dark Arts essay had been particularly daunting.


Unfortunately, it wasn't long before a general hush fell over the table and all eyes moved towards the entryway. Harry had arrived along with Hermione. She couldn't help but let her eyes slide over his body as he made his way towards her. His vivid green eyes sparkled behind his glasses, his unkempt hair dusting the top of his frames, and his shoulders tense under the weight of his book bag. She could see the muscles in his arms defined against his uniform sweater. He looked good as new, and if she hadn't seen the injury itself she wouldn't have known anything had been amiss.


As he neared, his eyes caught hers and she could feel a heat creep across her cheeks. She hoped he hadn't realized she'd been checking him out—or, if he had, she hoped he was modest enough to assume she was assessing his health. They never reached one another, however, because as he approached, Ginny stood to greet him. She clung to him, looking relieved to have him back at her side, and she leaned upward to whisper a few words in his ear. He grinned, allowing her to lead him to the empty seat beside her. Hermione filled in across from him, too far down to talk to Evelyn.


Hermione leaned forward, purposefully catching Evelyn's eye. She looked bothered, and mouthed "sorry," but Evelyn just shrugged. It wasn't Hermione's fault, she knew, though the incident made her even more eager to continue their discussion of Ginny's behavior.


Evelyn turned her attention back to Seamus, and was able to end her breakfast as enjoyably as she began it. She left the hall alone, but was barely to her first lesson when Hermione, who must have left the table just after Evelyn walked by, joined her.


"You alright?" Hermione asked, looking at her critically as they made their way up the staircase. They paused at the landing to allow the next flight to move to the left, which offered the correct pathway to their class.


"Of course," Evelyn replied, trying to sound positive. "I had breakfast with Seamus this morning. We were talking about the Defense essay—and then he started telling me how the Gryffindor loss will affect the house standings and how the rest of the games will need to play out if we want to win. I couldn't make sense of his math, to be honest, but it seems like Gryffindor still has a chance if Hufflepuff loses its next match."


Hermione nodded, "I'm sure Seamus was right. He's pretty good with those calculations... Though he's rubbish at Quidditch itself."


"Maybe he'll make a good analyst. Couldn't you see him writing for Quidditch Weekly or something?"


They continued back and forth on the possible career paths Seamus might pursue after graduation until they arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. All the while, she knew Hermione hadn’t actually been interested in her conversation with Seamus. She knew, then, that Hermione knew what Serenity knew—and that she hadn’t concealed her feelings quite as well as she’d hoped. Embarrassment swept over her, crushing her, but she tried to push it aside as she took her usual seat next to Hermione in Professor Snape's classroom. They were some of the first students to arrive, and she busied herself by pulling out her essay and double-checking it for spelling errors.


She found herself distracted, her eye drawing to the door every time someone came through, and she realized she was waiting for Harry and Ron to arrive. Elizabeth arrived before him with Hera Manos and Rhett Addington flanking her. The trio looked smug, and Ellie was the smuggest.


Evelyn felt as if she hadn't seen her in such a long time or, perhaps more aptly, she hadn't really looked at her. Elizabeth's hair was longer than it had been in years, and it hung down her back. She hadn’t inherited the tighter curl that Evelyn and their mother had shared, but had a wave more similar to Demeter’s. Elizabeth’s brown eyes moved across the room critically. She looked well rested, manicured even. The look was wildly different than the one she had sported at the Academy, where she had taken on the role of outsider. Here, she had people—people who were like her, people that that could be just as vicious and horrible as she was.


Elizabeth briefly locked eyes with Evelyn, and she knew instantly that the sneer on her sister's face was a mirror of her own. They never got beyond the sneering, however, as Professor Snape began to instruct the class with his sharp, drawling voice. He summoned their homework, placing it on his desk for later review and admitting that he doubted their essays would be better than their last attempt.


He continued, "Last week, we reviewed the stunning and disarming spells that are most effective in dueling. We will practice those spells today in pairs, in the hopes that some of you may be able to scrape by with nonverbal castings."


A few groans were admitted, but Evelyn smiled. It was close enough to dueling to delight her. The desks were cleared away, and the students allowed to choose their own partners. She snagged Hermione, though she could tell from the look Harry was giving her that he had hoped to be considered. The two girls entered into informal stances, and immediately began to volley the various spells back and forth.


Hermione made an excellent partner, and after only a few minutes it was clear that both girls had the spells worked out verbally and nonverbally. As Professor Snape made his way towards them and observed their technique, he begrudgingly acknowledged that their forms were "proficient, particularly for this group," and gave them each five points. Evelyn considered this high praise. She smiled at him and said thank you before he grimaced and turned away, moving back towards Ron and Harry—who immediately lost them the points they’d earned by making snide comments when Snape critiqued them.


"Should we pick it up a bit? Hermione asked, pushing her sleeves up and smiling.


Evelyn agreed enthusiastically, and within moments their volley had picked up and they were truly dueling.    



"Good work in there," Harry said, arriving at Evelyn's side as the students thinned out, moving in opposite directions towards their various destinations. Most of the Gryffindors were headed back to the Great Hall, where they would relax and have lunch before Potions that afternoon.


"Thanks," Evelyn said brightly, pushing her hair behind her ear. She felt flushed and her heartbeat was still elevated from her duel with Hermione. They had enjoyed themselves, and Evelyn was quite happy for the exercise. "I wish we had the chance to duel in class more often."


She knew immediately this had been the wrong thing to say as Harry’s eyes brightened and he nudged her with his elbow, "Well, you know, I’d be happy to duel with you."


"I-I don't know, Harry. I'm not sure there’s anything else I can teach you—you looked great in there. Your nonverbals have really improved." Her smile flickered briefly as she hoped that this would be enough to deter him for now. She hated avoiding him like this, but she didn't have another option. If anything like last time happened again, she didn’t think she could stop herself from taking the chance and kissing him. She wished Hermione or Ron would interrupt them, but they walked slowly behind them bickering softly with one another.


"My nonverbals are alright, but they're not as tight as yours or Hermione's. If you saw me at all in there, I'm sure you noticed. It's like they're on a slight delay. I really need to practice, to get beyond that."


Something flashed in his eyes, and she wondered briefly if it was fear. She'd never seen fear on Harry before.


"I noticed," She admitted, "Frankly, you're probably thinking too hard. You just need to get in a different headspace."


She looked sidelong at him and knew what he was going to say before the words were out of his mouth. He didn't need a different headspace; he didn't want one. He wanted practice. He wanted preparation. For battle. She wondered, for the first time, if it was selfish to deny him—the battle was coming, and this was a concrete way she could contribute right now.


Maybe it's me that needs a different headspace, she thought, feeling a bit foolish for letting her feelings for Harry distract from the larger stakes. So, instead of giving him the runaround, she found herself asking, "When did you want to meet up?"    



"I'm surprised Hermione allowed you to make time for a bit of dueling, after she went after you about Slughorn." Evelyn said casually, shrugging her cloak off in the Room of Requirement. She turned her eyes toward Harry as she pulled her hair away from her face.


Harry grimaced in response. "I have a feeling if she hadn't had the Apparition lessons, she'd still be berating me."


"She means well." Evelyn said, smiling. She shook her arms out as she spoke, warming up her muscles for the exercise. Harry began to mirror her movements. Since Evelyn had agreed to another session, she'd spent a lot of time feeling guilty about how she’d neglected Harry’s training since break and embarrassed by her own selfishness. The feeling had weighed her down ever since she had realized the barrier between her and Harry had been erected by her, not out of respect for Ginny but in response to the sting of rejection she had felt. The realization had made her feel foolish, as if she hadn't been herself—and that made her feel angry.


Since she had begun to reconcile her memories after the amnesia charm was broken, she had committed to knowing herself and staying true to herself. She didn't want to waste any more time with cowardice. Looking back now, she realized pushing Harry away had just been another selfish act to allow herself the luxury of not dealing with her feelings. She hadn't learned her lesson.


Worse yet, she had told Professor Dumbledore that she wanted to fight. She wanted to help win the war, whatever that meant and however that involved the prophecy—and those feelings were true. Every time she looked at Elizabeth, she was reminded of that fact. But she hadn't been carrying her weight since her hopes had been dashed by Ginny. She felt childish for having allowed Harry's relationship with Ginny to impact her friendship with him and, on a more fundamental level, how she acted around him. She felt like she'd been behaving like a sore loser. Their preparation for the battle ahead was more important than her feelings. It was time to be bigger, to be herself. She needed to do more, not just for Harry, but also for the entire war effort. If she had interpreted the prophecy correctly, she was destined to be involved in the war. This could be how.


So, when Harry had said he could practice that morning after their friends departed for Hogsmeade, she agreed without hesitation, and, when they entered the room that afternoon, she felt more herself in Harry's presence than she had in weeks. The guilt and anger began to dissipate, replaced by focus and determination. She was ready to shift her perspective—to be more thoughtful, more purposeful, more involved. They could be friends and colleagues. They could battle alongside one another. As she finished warming up, she turned to look at Harry and smiled as she forced down the twinge in her stomach.


Friends, she thought, they were friends and nothing more. She would treat him just like she would Bobby or Devon. She would be herself, and she would let go of those other feelings. When they left this room, she would continue on just the same—and she would ignore Ginny, and focus on what she could offer Harry and the Order.


As she looked at him, Harry's glasses slid down his nose and he clumsily brushed them back up, looking up to meet her gaze with a sudden self-consciousness. She moved into leg stretches and he followed, his arms stretching downward and his muscles pulling against his shirtsleeves. He was cute. The twinge came back. She gulped awkwardly.


She was relatively sure she could do this.


"I know Hermione means well," Harry sighed as he straightened up and continued their conversation, "I'm just not having much luck."


"Luck? There's a thought," Evelyn said with a smile.


Harry looked at her curiously, but didn’t have a chance to reply as she had moved into position and raised her wand. Once his wand came into view, she fired a disarming spell. She couldn't help but grin when he deflected it nonverbally.


"Good!" She exclaimed, beginning to move more into the duel. She launched a transfiguration spell at him, but he cast another deflection spell, and hers hurtled towards the wall rather than hitting her target. She continued grinning, even as she had cause to throw herself to the floor to avoid Harry's next spell. Finding herself on the defensive, she rolled on to her stomach and brought her legs up under her, quickly popping up into a squat and deflecting Harry's next spell.


Without verbal cues, it was more difficult to determine which spell she should cast and whether she should move into a more offensive stance. She kept a critical eye on Harry's face. After a few rounds, she realized his expression was almost as telling as his verbal casting would have been. The poor guy didn't have a poker face to save his life. It wasn't long before she could tell the difference between the slight quirk in his eyebrow when he was casting Expelliarmus and the furrow of his brow when he was casting Protego. It was shortly after that realization that she caught his wand in the air, holding it high above her head and looking triumphantly at Harry.


Even from across the room she could see sweat on his brow. He looked frustrated, and she paused to conjure a set of drinking glasses and poured water into them from her wand. Harry accepted his begrudgingly, and took a seat on the floor to catch his breath.


"How come you always beat me?"


"I almost always beat you." She corrected cheekily, sitting down beside him. He cast a sour look in her direction, but she met it with a smile.


"Really, Evie. I'm trying to be serious."


He really was, and she sat up a bit straighter and leaned forward, towards him. "This time, it was someone close to you that gave you away. I had an unfair advantage"


"Someone close to me? How is that—"


"It was you, Harry. Your face. You gave away the game with that face." She chuckled a bit, sipping her water.


He blushed, a look of embarrassment rushing across his face. Then he smirked a bit, "Not the typical feedback on my face. Usually Ginny leads with sweet—treacherous is a new one."


"She says you have a sweet face?" Evelyn asked, her own face screwing up a bit in disgust. She had to consciously remind herself that this couldn't bother her. She just needed to keep being herself.


"She does," he said, finishing his water and vanishing the glass with his wand. He laughed when he saw the face she was making, "You disagree?"


Evelyn finished her own glass, and vanished it as well. Standing up, she moved to walk away from him. For a moment, she thought she'd keep her reply to herself, but she was trying to be more herself—so she added over her shoulder, just as she would have to Bobby or Devon or anyone else, "I would have gone with handsome. Rugged even."


She turned to face him, her wand drawn and ready to meet his stance. Harry, however, wasn't ready at all. Instead, he sat in the same spot looking a little flabbergasted. His neck was flushed, and his emerald eyes were stuck on her.


She smiled sweetly, feeling charged by his shock. "You'll have to keep that in check."


"What?" The word sputtered out of Harry's mouth, and he looked confused. The twinge was back in her stomach, but it was accompanied by a pleasing feeling. She had always been the kind of person to speak her mind, and getting back to that felt good.


"If you want to go another round, if you want to beat me. You'll have to keep that mug in check." She smiled coyly at him.


A look moved across Harry's face that was unfamiliar to her, but he stood and brought out his wand just the same. He came towards her, his eyes intent and a slight quirk to the corner of his lips. "Any tips?"


"On your face?" She laughed, lowering her wand and relaxing out of her stance. She moved closer to him in playful examination, taking his chin into her hand and turning it from side to side. Handsome was the right adjective, she thought.


As she dropped his chin, he looked at her. His brow was furrowed and his eyes alert. She reached past his glasses and rubbed his brow. "A lot of what I needed to know was right here. Your brow is very expressive, and unfortunately for you, you tend to make the same face when you cast a spell. So if you cast one spell two or three times and each time you wrinkle your brow, by the fourth time when your brow starts to wrinkle, I already know what to do. You've told me."


"I can't help it."


"You can, you will. It may just be that these little expressions will fade the more we practice and the more you get used to nonverbal casting. I can tell you're still thinking very deliberately. So, once it becomes more natural, it may be less of a problem. Plus, you might find that a lot of your opponents don't have the time or familiarity or even insight to notice that you're making the same face each time—it might just be me."


"It might just be you," he repeated, and she could see his body relax into reassurance. "You might just know me too well. That is actually reassuring."


She realized that her hand was still on his face, having moved to his cheek while she spoke and she was quick to remove it. "I wouldn't claim I know you too well. I just know your body."


When she heard the words come out of her mouth, she immediately wished she could take them back. She had perhaps been too much herself just then, as open with Harry as she would have been with Theo. She could feel a blush creeping across her chest and she was happy to still have her sweater on so that her embarrassment was less obvious.


Harry didn't acknowledge her comment, but that unfamiliar look was back on his face. Maybe it was just the product of her double entendres, of her easy sarcasm, her bold new frame of mind.


"Back to it?" Evelyn asked, and Harry managed a nod as they each moved away from one another to where there was more room to breath.

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