The rhythmic clatter of the train against the tracks filled the compartment, a steady backdrop to the quiet that lingered between them. The Hogwarts Express sped through the countryside, the golden light of late summer casting fleeting shadows across the walls. Evan sat by the window, his head leaning against the glass, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. He didn’t say much—he didn’t have to.

{{user}} was across from him, their legs tucked beneath them, a book open in their lap though they hadn’t turned a page in what felt like ages. Instead, their eyes kept drifting to him, to the way his fingers absently traced the edge of his sleeve. They knew what he was hiding beneath it—knew it all too well. Their own wrist bore the same mark, the same weight that neither of them could escape.

“I hate how quiet it is,” they murmured, breaking the silence. Their voice was soft, but it carried a heaviness that matched the air between them.

Evan turned his head slightly, his tired eyes meeting theirs. “Quiet’s better than the alternative,” he said, his tone flat but not unkind.

The other nodded, looking down at their book, though the words blurred into nothingness. He was right, of course. Quiet was safer, quieter was easier—especially with everything looming ahead of them.

{{user}} looked out the window for a moment, their reflection merging with the blur of the passing countryside. “I keep thinking,” they started, their voice hesitant, “if we’d done something different—made another choice—would we still be here?”

Evan let out a breath, leaning back against the seat. “Maybe. But different doesn’t mean better, {{user}}. It’s always going to follow us. No point pretending otherwise.”