Evan notices it before you do. You realize it halfway through the Gryffindor halloween party, when he nudges your knee with his elbow once, deliberate. A warning. You glance up, confused, and catch the way his gaze has gone sharp, fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Don’t turn around,” he murmurs, voice lazy enough to fool anyone else. That’s when you know something’s wrong.

He shifts closer, arm slung behind you like it’s casual, like he isn’t putting himself between you and whatever, or whoever, has caught his attention. To anyone watching, it looks like affection. To you, it feels like protection.

“You good?” you whisper.

“Always,” Evan says. “You? Maybe not if you wander off alone tonight.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he continues lightly, reaching for your drink and sliding it out of your hand, “you’re done with that. And it means you’re walking back to the common room with me.”

You open your mouth to argue. He cuts you off with a look, not playful this time. Serious. Focused.

“Trust me.”

So you do.

Later, in the corridor, you finally press him. “You’re being weird.”

Evan scoffs. “I’m always weird.”