𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. ʀ. ʟᴜᴘɪɴ

five

Evangeline,

I was angry and disappointed when you decided to become an Auror. More so when you found Peter Pettigrew alive and well, freeing Sirius Black. You have turned your back on those who raised you and sheltered you. If your father was here to see how you have turned out, he too would be angry. I don't imagine you miss him.

I know that I did not give you much of a reaction when you informed me you took a job at Hogwarts. I cannot understand why you would do such a thing. You had to spend years of your life proving yourself as an Auror, only to throw it away to teach.

You have embarrassed the family name beyond repair for years. I only recently had to deal with Lucius Malfoy cursing my name when he heard you were teaching his son. I too would be angry. I am grateful you ran away when you did. But at the same time, I wish you stayed because maybe then you would have turned out better.

Please, do not write to me again about your new job. It's bad enough that you put your own people in Azkaban, it makes my skin crawl knowing you associate yourself with mudbloods and people like Albus Dumbledore. You should be ashamed.

Asteria

And that's how Evangeline found herself in her office late at night on October 1st nursing a firewhiskey. The entire room was dark other than the fireplace, which she sat by.

She knew better than to write to her mother, but part of her was still holding onto the idea that she would come around. That she would accept that her daughter didn't believe in what she did. That she wanted a different life.

She heard her office door creek open. She quickly stood up with her wand raised, ready to (possibly) hex the intruder.

To her surprise, Remus walked in with bars of chocolate in his hands. He stilled when he saw her, like a deer in headlights.

"E-Evangeline, I didn't expect you to still be awake..."

She lowered her wand and took her hair out of the clip it was held up in, letting it fall down her back. She sighed, "Was a bit restless. Might I ask why you're creeping into my office at such an hour?"

He held up the chocolate, "Thought I'd leave you some..."

"Bring it over here. Firewhiskey?"

"Oh, if it's not too much trouble." Remus said shyly, taking his seat in the same spot he did weeks prior.

She had her back turned to him as she got out another glass and poured firewhiskey into it. He watched her add more into her own glass. She then grabbed her burgundy knit jumper that was hanging over a chair by the fireplace and slipped it on before giving Remus his glass.

"I thought you didn't get cold?"

She didn't acknowledge his comment. She picked up a bar of chocolate and opened it up, "Dipping this in firewhiskey will change your life."

He watched her break off a piece and dip it into the drink before eating it. She then looked at him, and he got the hint that he wanted to do the same. He opened unwrapped another bar of chocolate and mirrored what she did.

His eyes widened as he relaxed into the chair, "Good Godric, that is delightful."

"Thank you for bringing me more chocolate."

"It's nothing." He said, looking down at the amber liquid, swirling it around in the glass.

She eyed him carefully, "I haven't seen you since I asked you to watch the full Moon on the Astronomy Tower. Have I scared you away?"

He took a sip of the firewhiskey, "No, I've just been busy. That's all."

Evangeline curled her feet up on the chair and she leant her elbow on the arm of the chair as she looked at the fire, lost in thought. Remus picked up on her demeanor rather quickly.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"In my past experience with people saying 'I'm fine,' it usually means quite the opposite."

She looked at him with a small smile, "You really see through people, don't you?"

"I know that look you have because I've seen it on someone else close to me. Is it personal troubles?"

She let out a breath of air, "I suppose so."

"You don't have to tell me, but I'll listen if you want."

Normally Evangeline knew better than to ever tell someone about her personal life. She didn't trust what they could do with such information. But something in his eyes told her that whatever she told him would stay between them. It scared her how easily she was able to let her guard down.

She stood up and walked to her desk, picking up the letter her mother wrote. She gave it to him, and he read it as she sat back down. She twirled the ring on her finger anxiously as she watched him read the letter.

"Asteria is your mother?"

"Unfortunately."

"What happened to your father?"

She spoke into her glass, "I'm going to need a few more glasses of firewhiskey in my system before I can have that conversation."

He faintly smiled, "I see."

"My parents were Death Eaters during the first war. I resent my mother a lot for what she did, but she's still my mother and she's the only family I've got left."

"Forgive me if I overstep asking but... was your mother abusive?"

"Emotionally, yes. She never laid a hand on me, but she didn't stop my father from doing so or his other friends."

"Did you ever agree with what your parents did?"

She downed the rest of her drink, sitting it on the coffee table in front of her. She sat back in her chair and took a bite of chocolate, "No, I never agreed with their beliefs. I ran away when I was 17 to get away from it all."

"Where'd you go?"

"The nightbus ended up picking me up. Dumbledore allowed me to spend the rest of my summer at Hogwarts before my seventh year began."

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

She shrugged, "It's over now. I've spent years trying to repair my relationship with my mother but she has never been all that interested in doing the same. At this point she just tolerates me. And before you say it, I know I should just leave for good."

"Frankly, I don't think it's my place to tell you what to do at all. But as I said, I like to think I'm a good listener."

She laid down in the chair, her knees bent over the arm of the chair and her neck resting up against the other. She placed her hands on her stomach as she looked over at him, "How did you get your scars? If you don't mind me asking."

He quickly shied away, making her frown. He kept his head down, "Oh, well–"

"You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable. I'm just curious."

He dared himself to glance up at her. He could faintly see the freckles littering her face, her brown eyes illuminated by the fire. She looked less tense than how she did when he first arrived in her office. He blamed it on the firewhiskey.

He wanted to tell her. It was on the tip of his tongue. He thought since she was so open with him, he should have nothing to fear. But when he looked at her, he cowered out. Fears of how she would react clouded his mind. He didn't want her to fear him.

"Just... uh, I don't really..."

He mentally punched himself. Could he not get a proper sentence out now?

"It's okay," she softly said, "I understand."

With that, she didn't press more on it. He sighed in relief. She gazed up at the ceiling as she ate the last bit of her chocolate.

"But if it's any consolation, those scars definitely add to your charm."