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Are we going to see anymore of this story?
I keep checking back everyday in anticipation.
I really looove your story.
Seriously.
heart heart heart heart heart heart heart

Kamille stared at the candy—some of which was moving—with mournful longing. Sweets were something very rare, even in the Muggle world…she wondered what wizard candy was like.

But then she remembered: candy required money. She had a little, but Dumbledore had said to keep it for Hogwarts. She was pretty sure that she was not there yet—how could school be held on a train? If they were, it would be very tricky.

“Nothing, thanks,” she murmured, dropping her eyes so her mouth wouldn’t water. Breakfast was small, and ages ago.

Evan looked up, glancing first at her before his eyes locked the woman into place. “Some Chocolate Frogs, a box of Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbees and a Licorice Wand, please,” he told her imperiously. A little annoyed by his arrogance, the woman dropped the candy boxes onto the seat he indicated with a raised eyebrow and was off as soon as she had taken the money. He seemed unconcerned, reaching out a luxuriously slow hand and chewing off the end of the Licorice Wand.

“Go on,” he said. “Have some.”

“Me?” Kamille said, confused.

“Nah, your owl. Yes, you. It’s the good stuff. Droobles is okay, I suppose, but I can’t stand chewing gum, even if it does make massive bubbles. Have all you want.”

“Oh, but—” She had no idea what to say. It struck her that she shouldn’t take it—something about candy from strangers—but she didn’t know how to object, and he was fixating her with that do-it-now-before-I-smite-you-scum kind of look, so without another word, feeling a bit guilty, she took a Chocolate Frog from its box and raised it to her mouth.

The candy frog slid out of her fingers, leaving a chocolaty smear, and leapt onto the wall.

“AUGH!”

Evan laughed somewhat mockingly. “It’s bewitched,” he told her with a slight smirk as the frog crawled up the wall. “It’s supposed to do that. Go on, catch it, the spell’ll wear off in a minute.”

Bemused, her heart still racing, she reached out her hands, and sure enough, as soon as she had, the frog seemed to faint and fell right into her outstretched hands.

“Um,” she said hesitantly.

“It won’t hurt you, just bite its head off and it won’t move again.”

“But that’s awful! I can’t eat a frog!”

“It isn’t a frog, stupid, it’s candy. Bite into it, you’ll see.”

“But it moved—”

“So’d your owl, it’s magic. Won’t hurt you, ‘less you’re a Muggle or a Sq—”

But then he cut off, making a face, and settled for chewing on his Licorice Wand again. Feeling even worse, she nibbled at the frog’s foot; it melted into her mouth, the sweetest chocolate she had ever tasted. Before she had even stopped to think, the Frog had disappeared into her mouth. It tasted wonderful.

“Why’s it look like a frog?” she asked Evan thickly, confused as to how that could possibly be appetizing the first time. But when she had swallowed, it seemed to make a little more sense. Was it magic that made the chocolate taste so good?

Evan shrugged, blowing the question off.

“What’re these?” she inquired, shaking the box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. He actually looked up at this one, a sort of spiteful amusement turning one corner of his mouth and lighting up his pale eyes.

“Try it,” he said.

The words “Every Flavor” had briefly caught her attention, but it was his expression, as if he knew she would explode on contact with the little colored things and was relishing the idea, that made her think that these were dangerous. Very slowly, wondering all the time why she did not throw the box down and run, she took out a golden-brown bean and chewed off the end.

“Mm,” she commented as she stuck the rest in as well. “I think it’s toffee.”

She turned the box over and looked at the back, but there were no flavors on it like Muggle beans had. Shrugging, she took another one out, a deep yellow—noticing as she did that Evan had not changed his expression, was still waiting on the edge of his seat for something to happen.

The bean seemed to attack the back of her tongue; she gagged and choked, but she had already swallowed it.

“Ew!” she cried, quickly snatching up a Chocolate Frog and swallowing it whole. “Ew, it’s awful!”

“What did it taste like?” Evan asked her, eyes gleaming.

“Like earwax or so—!”

But the rest of her exclamation was drowned out by loud, unrestrained, rather cruel laughter from him, and this, she supposed, was what he had been waiting for. He pressed his fist to his forehead, his eyes closed tight as he continued to laugh.

“You did that on purpose!” she shouted at him, furious. “That’s horrible!”

It took him a long time to calm down enough to reply.

“EVERY FLAVOR Beans,” he choked, “they…there’s some that’re so weird…I knew you’d go round the twist the minute you….”

Laughter rendered him unable to speak for a minute more; she didn’t find it funny at all. “That’s an awful horribly mean thing to do, Evan Black! What’d I do to you, huh?”

“Mudblood,” was all he said, still smirking as he went back to his book and his now much-diminished Licorice Wand.

“I am not!”

“You act like one,” he noted.

“I do not, and that’s a terrible thing to call someone?”

“So?”

“Ooh…you….”

She refused to speak to him for at least fifteen minutes, during which she took the box of beans and carefully tried every one, finding odd flavors like grass and raw fish and ink and salt along with strawberry tart and currant and treacle and marmalade. Finally, the silence started getting to her; Pigeon had fallen asleep in the seat her feet were resting on long since.

“What’ve you got against them anyway?” she demanded. The silence seemed to startle him.

“Who?”

“Mudbloods or whatever.”

“Oh, them.” He added a slight sneer to the idea of them. “Wizards shouldn’t ever have been in hiding, it’s all the Muggles’ fault, why should any of them get magic? It’s WIZARDS that should be ruling THEM, not them becoming one of us. Stealing our magic,” he muttered, and was silent.

“Why’d we wanna rule them?”

“WE,” he snorted. “’Cause wizards are much more powerful, we shouldn’t have to hide what we can do.”

“Muggles don’t like magic?”

“Well, YOU lived with them, what do you think?”

She was about to object to this, wondering why he was so convinced that she was a Muggle-born, but then she remembered that she HAD lived with them. They had never liked her. Was it because of her magic? Had they known?

“I dunno,” she said broodingly. “They weren’t very nice at all, really. But I didn’t know wizards had to be in hiding! Whatever for?”

“Muggles hate magic. They tried to burn witches and wizards alive a few centuries ago, it’s all in A History of Magic, I think. We could win, but no one wants to fight. That’s okay, though,” he added cheerfully. “The Dark Lord will bring the wizards back out of hiding, won’t he? It’s how things’re supposed to be.”

“Hmm. Him again.” She did not like the sound of this person at all, even if he was dead or whatever. “I thought he died.”

“He’ll be back,” Evan said dismissively.

“He didn’t seem very nice.”

“Not to Muggles and Mudbloods, no. Anyone who follows him he’s good to. ‘S what Roloxia told me Aunt Bella said all the time.”

“Who?”

“Oh—my mum.” He made a disgusted sound at the term. She decided to change the subject.

“S-so…he’s gonna come back, and you’re gonna…?”

“Be a Death Eater. Yep.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Those who don’t follow him are against him, Corrin. Anyone who’s smart will join him when he rises again.”

It all sounded very impressive—and he’d used her newfound last name. It made her feel very small all of a sudden.

“And he had all sorts of other things on his side—magical creatures. Giants, goblins, centaurs and all.”

“WHAT?”

Evan explained what these were, and then went on to tell her how You-Know-Who had used them in his battle a decade ago; she didn’t like what he said at all, and wished he would stop. It was with gratitude that she looked up at a loud banging sound to see Draco and his two cronies crowd into the compartment.

“Potter’s on the train!” he exclaimed, shoving Evan’s feet aside to sit down—a mistake on his part, it seemed. “I saw him, I talked to him, Ev, he’s made friends with that new Weasley kid, and I remember seeing him in Diagon Alley too, wonder why he didn’t want to sit with us? Why’s someone like him hanging around with scum like th—don’t you point that thing at me, Evan!”

Kamille squeaked in fright as Evan pointed his wand between Draco’s eyes, his eyes cold, a sneer forming on his lips.

“How many times do I have to tell you, cousin?” he spat. “I don’t like you. I could care less about the Potter kid as well. Get out of here, and bring those two idiots with you.”

Crabbe and Goyle blinked, seeming to be unaware that they had just been insulted. Draco’s eyes were wide with fear, but he flushed an ugly purple color, trying and failing to imitate Evan’s sneer.

“You’re no older than me, Evan, don’t you dare insult them—”

“Get. Out.”

Crabbe stumbled back and pulled the compartment door open, and Goyle pushed past him to leave, both scared out of their lacking wits by the icy fire in Evan’s eyes and voice, but they hesitated in the corridor, realizing that Draco had been left behind. They watched him struggle for a moment, before bravely summoning a smirk and a dry, humorless laugh.

“What’re you gonna do about it, Squib?”

”REDUCTO!” Evan yelled, and with a shout Draco was blasted into the corridor, the compartment door slamming behind him with a spell that Kamille couldn’t hear in all the noise. Pigeon made a distressed cry, awake now, and flapped over to nestle against her breast.

A frosty silence coated the air between them. Another hour passed, during which Kamille played quietly with Pigeon, ate her way through every box of candy (the Chocolate Frogs had cards, but she left those in a neat little pile for Evan), and attempted to make conversation to ease the tension. Evan was not cooperative.

It started to grow darker outside the window, and Kamille wondered nervously if they were arriving soon. She didn’t want to think it to herself at all, but she was afraid of the idea of sleeping here—Evan seemed like he would be more than happy to kill her off in her sleep, just for fun.

He spoke when the first stars began to appear, making her jump.

“Better change,” he said quietly, pointing to his robes.

“O-oh,” she stammered in reply, looking down at her shabby Muggle clothes. “Okay. Um, will you…?”

“No.”

“Oh…okay….” She resigned herself to the fact that she would have to find a compartment full of girls to change in, so, taking Pidge and grabbing some robes from her trunk, she set out into the corridor, her anxiety increasing tenfold.

There was a compartment full of second years, it looked like, who were laughing and talking, and then one of them said audibly, “Mightn’t we start to change now? It’s getting dark,” and stood up to close the door. Kamille took a deep breath and ran up, knocking urgently on the glass.

“Hmm?” the girl said as the door slid open, confused.

“Um, h-hi,” Kamille said shakily. “C-can I….”

She drew the girl’s attention from the owl on her head—at the older girl’s eye level—by gesturing at the robes stuffed into her arms.

“Oh…sure!” the girl agreed cheerfully, and let her in before shutting the compartment door behind her. They resumed their conversation as they pulled on their robes, stopping as she struggled into hers to exclaim over the cuteness of her baby owl; she felt her face grow warm and changed as quickly as possible, thanking them before grabbing her clothes and owl and hurrying back to her own compartment.

Evan did not so much as look up when she seated herself yet again and began tidying up the empty candy boxes.


“Leave ‘em,” he told her. “Someone’ll pick them up.”

She drew back, offering him the Chocolate Frog cards. “Th-thank you,” she told him. “I saved you the cards….”

“Mm,” he said unconcernedly. “Got Merlin in there?”

“Oh…no.”

“Chuck ‘em, then, I don’t care. Or you can keep them.”

She had wanted to—the magpie in her wanted to keep these as a souvenir of some sort, proof that this actually existed, that they even had their own candy in the strange, mysterious world of wizards.

She placed the cards and all her things into her bag, clutching it nervously as she set Pigeon, in his cage, on her lap.

“I…I can’t lift my trunk—”

“’S fine, they bring it separately.”

Evan seemed unconcerned—or maybe this was how he dealt with stress: by not having any at all. She was shaking so badly that Pigeon hooted in complaint, seeming a little nervous himself. Evan checked his watch, which she noticed had twelve hands and little moving stars around the edge, and went back to reading. She kept her eyes fixed on the silver device around his wrist, unable to read it in the slightest—each minute passed like an hour. She wanted to disappear by magic, but she did not know how—she’d settle for grabbing a blanket and hiding under it until term ended.

Time dragged on but refused to stop, and, already feeling queasy, her stomach gave a huge, nervous lurch as the Hogwarts Express jerked to a halt.

Oh, okay. :3 Neat.

I hate Draco. In my mind he is a rather cute little kid, though. Still, aarrogant little berk.

But Evan's even more so. Huh.

Yes they will. It actually fits nicely in with the Harry Potter story, I'm rather proud of it...buuut, I won't finish it anyway. I lost inspiration.

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It's okay. Same characters with a different story in Ametris. Check it out. 3nodding

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