@bartyisms
hogwarts school grounds; september 10th, 1976
The gentle breeze sent a light shiver down his spine. It was suprisingly cool for September and Evan foud himself thinking that maybe he should have brought a coat. But there had been no time. And truth be told, he hadn’t thought of it. Hadn’t thought of anything but this. Them. Alone.
There was something strange in his chest, an ache Evan couldn’t describe or even begin to understand. But it wasn’t necessarily bad, just... alien. They hadn’t had much opportunity to talk since the train, had bumped into one another in the hallways, of course, exchanged quick smiles in passing but nothing more.
And now Barty was right next to him, close enough to touch, close enough for Evan to hear him breathing. He wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling. Something in between absolute terror and staggering euphoria. Some of it might be the alcohol, too. He hadn’t had much, he never did, but the little he’d had was just enough to make everything feel a little hazy.
“A feather of a Hippogriff.” he repeated unnecessarily. It wasn’t too hard to remember. “That should be achievable, don’t you think? At least we don’t have to go for a midnight swim.” And while he had to admit that there was a certail allure to the idea (he did his best to banish the sudden image of Barty’s bare skin in the moonlight from his mind), this was hardly the time and the place. They had a mission to complete.
