Chapter Twelve: Hate and Lie

Evelyn ...

   Walking at a fast pace, when I finally reached the oak front doors with my messenger bag dangling over my shoulder, Filch was checking the names of the last two students that were left. The others crowded up outside the gate, waiting. For the only two left students, it took him almost ten minutes long to check their names and scan them with the Secrecy Sensor. When my turn came as the last student, he looked at me with an unpleasant expression, narrowing his eyes. "Name?"

   "Evelyn Black." I knew he recognized me already, but I did not bother to argue.

   He wrote my name down on his list, eying me up and down, then he pointed the Secrecy Sensor at me.

   "Does sneaking Dark Arts out do any harm to the school?" I asked haughtily, frowning.

   He only threw an unpleasant, sharp glance at me.

   When Filch got satisfied after checking me for almost three times, he finally let me pass the gate.

   I stepped out of the entrance, just to see Mattheo standing right outside, near a corner, parted from the crowded students, with Theodore and Pansy next to him. Mattheo's arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes were darkened, looking at nowhere. With this expression, and his jaw clenched, he looked angrily murderous.

   Walking closer, I realized Theo looked quite the same as him, but with the difference that his hands were in his pockets.

   "What took you so long?" Pansy uttered when I walked over to them, her hands on her hips sternly.

   "You mean besides this Secrecy Sensor thing?" I replied. "Peeves stopped me," I told the lie I had already set up on my way. I was relieved that none of them asked any further.

   Pansy looked at me weirdly. The other two did not even bother to look my way.

   My gaze shifted between Theo and Mattheo, my eyes narrowed. And before I could be able to say anything, noticing the look on my face, Pansy spoke. "They almost beat Filch for this scanning thing. Even though they were right, they are always looking for trouble, aren't they?"

   "Pansy. Shut that little mouth of yours." Mattheo finally spoke, both his voice and expression dangerously cold.

   Theodore peeked up at him, looking alert. Pansy looked offended, and alert, too.

   "They are leaving. And so we are," I said, tilting my head towards the students that just started walking on. "Come on."

   The walking to Hogsmeade trip was cold like hell, but even though my face and hands were absolutely frozen and numb, and that I was clenching my leather jacket tight around myself, it did not very bother me; I always liked the cold more than I did the warmth. And looking over at Mattheo, in only a black, not-very-warming hoodie, I understood he did not mind the cold either.

   We arrived at Hogsmeade and went straight to the Three Broomsticks, the warm, cozy air washing over us as we entered the pub. Already over half of the students were in there, chit-chatting and warming themselves up, filling the bustling, disturbing atmosphere.

   "I'll go get butterbeer," Theodore said, walking away. "I'll come with you." Mattheo then followed behind him, leaving me and Pansy in the hell.

   "Let's go find a table," Pansy waved her hand in front of me, making my eyes come back into focus again. And then she made her way through the tables, pulling her cloak tightly around herself. I followed silently.

   "I still don't understand this thing between you and Mattheo," Pansy said when we sat at a cornered table.

   My eyes snapped towards her.

   "I do not know which part it is that you don't understand." I rubbed my freezing hands together.

   Pansy looked stern. "The part that you didn't like him at all!" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows.

   "Pansy," I said, attempting to be patient. "Just get over it."

   She did not get over it. She just rolled her eyes. "Do you like him?"

   At that, I went into silence. I did not know if I told her yes, I like him, would she believe it or not. Or, perhaps, I just did not want to bring that filthy lie to my mouth. Because, no. I did not like him. He annoyed me, his lips disgusted me, his egos made me angry; he made me always want to escape from him. I did not enjoy his presence. But all I am saying is that: hate is a great word. I did not hate him; I disliked him very much.

   "Yes," I lied. "I __"

   My words, luckily, got cut off when Mattheo and Theo approached the table, each with two cups of butterbeer in their hands.

   Mattheo placed a cup in front of me on the table, Theodore in front of Pansy, and then they sat opposite us. I pulled the butterbeer closer to me, wrapping my hands around the warm cup. "Where did this Malfoy go?" I spoke, trying to ease the tension coming from Theo and Mattheo.

   "Somewhere," Theo replied, leaning against his chair, his head turning to wonder around the place. He scuffed, then. "I don't know."

   He is in Hogsmeade, then.

   "Can you guys cheer up for a bit?! Are we here to have fun or stand your grumpy asses?" Pansy spoke up sternly.

   Theodore stared at her, sipping his butterbeer.

   I took a mouthful sip of my butterbeer, feeling the warmth going down my throat, patiently gaping between all three of them.

   "Our Quidditch captain sucks," Theodore said lazily __ just to say something.

   "He doesn't know how to play clean," Mattheo spoke. "He doesn't even know how to play."

   I looked at them lazily, continuing to swallow my butter beer.

   Pansy growled at the random topic.

   We were sitting there doing everything unworthy and boring, while Draco was somewhere trying to kill someone __ probably.

   I was supposed to find out, but I told myself that I had found out enough already. Had I not? Let Dumbledore and his puppets deal with the rest.

   But except for the part of me that was saying do not think about it, the other half was curiously looking around the pub, imagining scenarios happening by Draco. In one of them, for instance, a student fainted after drinking their butterbeer and sufferingly from poison.

   None of my imaginary scenarios happened, though. Except, when my eyes were wandering around the pub, three people I was and also was not expecting to see walked inside.

   Hermione's expression tensed when she saw me, Ron's face twisted oddly, and Harry looked away as though he never saw me.

   We stared at each other, before they rolled away and sat at a far table.

   I spun my cup on the table.

   "Anyone's gonna end this ridiculous silence?" Mattheo spoke.

   "That's exactly what I was trying to do!" Pansy cried.

   It was not successful, apparently. Mattheo stood up and emptied the last drips of his butterbeer, before putting it on the table. "I'mma go maybe get some air. And smoke. Coming?" he asked Theodore.

   "You're gonna freeze out there!" Pansy said, wrapping her own jacket tighter around herself. "I'm not going."

   "Yeah, dude. I'll stay with her." Theodore looked at Mattheo apologetically.

   Mattheo's expression tensed. "Come on, Eve."

   The nickname and he both started me. I stared dead at him, considering my deeds. Before emptying my bottle, putting it on the table, and standing up on my feet.

   "Good luck getting frozen," Pansy said sarcastically.

   Mattheo sped out of the pub, having me follow behind him.

   The cold air hit my face when I stepped out of the warm pub behind him; though, it was very pleasing. He did not even waste a second to pull a cigarette out of his pocket and light it on; his hand hovered around the cigarette to protect it from the wind, he took a heavy puff of it. But then, the cigarette's light went out, in the heavy wind and sleet.

   "Damn it," Mattheo grumbled, tossing the cigarette away.

   My eyes followed the cigarette through the snow, but before I could realize, the sharp wind had taken it away out of sight. Then I was forced to follow Mattheo as he kept striding up the road, his head turning back to check on me now and then.

   We reached the end of the road, which was supposedly the top of the hill. There were snow-covered fences over the edges of the road, a couple of trees around, and nothing more.

   I approached the fenced edge, looking down, nothing was visible except the expanse of snow-covered grounds, and a dark, old, isolated cottage that was the infamous Shrieking Shack.

   Mattheo pulled another cigarette out of his pocket, putting it between his lips, and this time more protectively shielding his hand around it, trying to light it on.

   "It's going to go off again," I said.

   "Then it better give me at least one puff before it goes off," he mumbled indistinctively, the cigarette hanging between his lips.

   He took a long puff of the barely lit cigarette, without removing his shield hand from protecting it from the wind. "Don't go off for fuck's sake, you piece of shit!"

   Realizing my face had tensed, I quickly recovered it.

   He managed to take another, and three long drags before the cigarette went out again. And then he tossed the cigarette off the hill, his jaw flexing. "They say it's haunted," he said, motioning towards the Shrieking Shack.

   "I do not think so," I said.

   "Why not?" He smirked.

   I ran my fingers over the frost-covered railing, my skin going numb against the coldness. "It just makes no sense."

   He turned around, so he was lounging against the railing, his hips resting against the frosted metal as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Nothing makes sense in here."

   It was true. Nothing made sense, when I was dating Mattheo Riddle, and, I was bound to do it.

   I hated that sometimes I could not disagree with him __ because he was right.

   In the silence, my mind went on the Malfoy thing again: this time I thought it could be me who he was trying to kill. "What is Malfoy actually up to?" I asked. I did not even try to sound curious, because I already was.

   "Insulting everyone he can reach to." He let out a sarcastic chuckle. "While I go around lying to everyone I can reach to."

   My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Lying to everyone? "What does that supposed to mean?"

   He smirked, giving me a deep glance. "You are not included. And that's why I'm gonna give you the answer," he went on. "My father is overworking him."

   My frown only deepened, but then I put my focus on listening rather than wondering.

   He continued, "Y'know, he's furious with the Malfoys. So he's using their son to do the hard work."

   My eyebrows increased. What was the hard work, and why was he furious with the Malfoys, I should've asked. But it would make it obvious, would it not?

   Then his warm hand touched my frozen knuckles, and I yanked my hand away. My alarming eyes stared at him, and I could tell that he was as surprised by my reflex as I was by his sudden touch.

   His jaw flexed as he looked away, and it was a relief he shoved his over-heated hands back into his hoodie's pockets, pretending nothing had happened. Because, technically, yanking away from your boyfriend should not be expected __ unless you are faking everything in the first place.

   "Shall we go back to the castle?" he cut off my thoughts.

   I did not say anything. Perhaps I wanted to stay to see if there was going to be any disturbance caused by Draco. But, on the other hand, I had already done my job. I let Dumbledore know, and I no longer do anything about it. My priority now was to stay at Mattheo's side __ for Merlin's sake.

   And then he muttered, "Let's go then."