This story was written years ago with my child brain and thanks to lockdown boredom I recently re-read it and now I've made the stupid decision to attempt a rewrite using my adult brain.

I've kept the old chapters up to remind me wtf I wrote and I don't have any copies of this nonsense lol

EDIT: I figured out how to download the story lol rip old chapters xox

June, 1975

Giselle Crouch stared at her watch and heaved the deepest sigh she could muster. She wished she could make the hands on the clock stop, she hoped that some divine intervention would freeze time because she had never wanted anything so badly before, but the tickling spindly second hand continued to shudder past the number twelve and her heart shrivelled up. The universe hated her, she thought, that must be the reason why this is happening. She felt personally victimised by whatever higher power existed above her, whoever it was watching over her wanted Giselle to suffer.

The distant clock tower of Hogwarts chimed out twelve times signalling the start of the final twenty-four hours of Giselle's fourth year, and the shrill echo made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She didn't want the new day to start, she couldn't face the fact that it was officially her last day ever as a student of Hogwarts, and a huge part of Giselle hoped that if she simply ignored the facts then everything would be ok. What if she turned up at King's Cross in September with all of her equipment and refused to leave the Hogwarts Express? What if she hid in the castle tomorrow when everyone was leaving so she could stay here all summer? What if she tricked someone into taking Polyjuice Potion and forced them to take her place? Her mind buzzed with extravagant plans, encouraging her to trust her gut, but she shook her head forcing the ideas away. None of her plans would work, her father would make sure of it - even if it meant calling the entire Aurors office to help him. Giselle physically deflated and slumped forward onto the table, defeated by her dark thoughts.

"Why me?!" she cried out loud, muffled by her wild dark hair.

None of the house-elves that were clambering around the kitchens of Hogwarts took any notice of the groaning, depressed fourth year in their midst, they never did. Giselle listened to the tittering whispers and clanging of pots against pans as she continued to bang her forehead against the wood, making the mug beside her wobble dangerously with each hit, but the sounds of the elves made her think of her own house elf, Winky. She was the only one Giselle was remotely interested in seeing tomorrow, and her groans got louder when Winky's sweet face shifted into the malicious, disproving visage of her father. She wasn't ready to deal with him yet.

Bartemius Crouch, the human equivalent of a stubbed toe, was determined to make Giselle's life a living nightmare. Her father was a significant man with a remarkably powerful job and he made sure that everyone around him remembered that - Giselle's transfer to Beauxbatons was his latest abuse of power. Giselle was certain that Bartemius hated her as much as she hated him since it was just her and not her younger brother who would be attending the French academy in the autumn; Junior wasn't the threat, she was. A small part of her was grateful for that decision, however, as the prospect of being stuck in a foreign country with Junior was too horrifying to even think about. They'd have killed each other by Christmas.

Dickhead, thought Giselle bitterly, banging her forehead against the table. If she had to choose who she hated more between her father and her younger brother she'd most likely die of old age first - they were just as bad as each other. Junior was a sneaky, devilish boy with a dangerously sharp mind and a tongue to match, he knew how to fool their parents and had them wrapped around his little finger but he never had a grip on his older sister. Giselle caught on quickly to her brother's acts, she could see him for what he truly was and she never believed his angelic act. He was the literal devil and she only had memories to prove it.

Her mother was utterly oblivious to it all. As much as Giselle loved her, Adelaide Crouch was the most stubborn and naive witch she had ever met. It was her maternal instinct, Giselle assumed, to disregard every terrible accusation concerning her darling baby boy, even if the accuser was her own daughter. It didn't take much for Giselle to give up on convincing Adelaide that her son was heading down the wrong path although she had more hope that her image-conscious father would listen to her - she was wrong. Bartemius thought she was the one who was susceptible to the dark arts and Adelaide never tried to defend Giselle, she simply did whatever her husband told her to do.

Honestly, that woman thinks the sun shines out of her husband and son's every orifice! Giselle despised her family, she hated all three of them. She thought back to her father and rolled her eyes, lifting her head from the table to rub the red mark on her forehead. The words he said to her on her first day of school four years ago were engraved on the back of her skull, she could never get rid of them.

"Listen to me, Giselle. Do not waste your time at Hogwarts, it is incredibly valuable. I don't want you distracting yourself with silly nonsense like Quidditch," Bartemius spat the word as though it gave him a bitter taste in his mouth, "and don't you even think about breaking the rules because if I receive an owl from your head of house, you will be in serious trouble young lady. I raised you to be right and proper, you are pureblooded young lady and you will surpass my expectations, yes? You are a Crouch, Giselle - do not embarrass me." Giselle remembered biting her tongue so hard that it bled for hours afterwards.

The gut-wrenching memory made bile rise in her throat. You are a pureblooded young lady and you will surpass my expectations. Yeah right! She'd rather eat a flobberworm. Giselle's pink lips twitched as she remembered the first howler she received from her father after Professor McGonagall sent a letter home concerning Giselle's new extra-curricular activity of causing mischief. If she listened carefully she could still hear Bartemius' roaring voice in the rafters of the Great Hall.

Giselle shuddered, deflating at the thought of the Great Hall. Tomorrow was the last time she would attend one of Hogwarts' glorious feasts where she could stuff her face without anyone scolding her for being messy but that one thought spiralled and she began to list everything she was going to miss. She wasn't a part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team anymore, her chaser position would be filled by another next year and she refused to imagine someone else taking her place in the celebration dance she had created with James Potter, her poor heart couldn't handle it. She heard a rumour that Beauxbatons didn't have a Quidditch team and the pain hit her all over again, it was like her father had specifically asked the French school to ban the sport just to spite her. The memory of James falling dramatically from his chair when she told him still made her smile, but only slightly. She was going to miss him a lot.

But the horribly familiar sensation of sickly dread flooded her body as though she had been bitten by a poisonous snake and Giselle's shoulders automatically slumped, relishing in the heavy sense of guilt that she couldn't shake every time she thought of him, of Sirius. His face popped up in front of Giselle's eyes and the urge to cry hit her square in the face, paralysing her momentarily. Her chest got tighter and she pressed her hands into her face, physically stopping the tears from falling but she could feel the moisture on her fingers. Tomorrow was the last time she would be with her favourite person in the world and it broke her heart. Sirius Black needed her to stay and she couldn't give him what he wanted no matter how badly she wanted to, they were being torn apart and there was nothing she could do about it. A violent shiver consumed Giselle as she reminisced about the night she told him she was transferring, anger still lingering deep in her soul, and the shrillness of Sirius' screams had haunted her since. They stayed up all night assuring each other that it wasn't the end of the world but neither of them believed it, it was an extremely sensitive topic.

Maybe we could run away…?

"MISS CROUCH?!"

Fighting a heart attack, Giselle flinched and splashed hot tea down her vest, the white fabric slowly turning a pale brown.

"Ah, fuck!" she gasped, tensing as her skin tightened and blistered. She frantically whipped her head around to see who had caught her out of bed but only the house elves of Hogwarts greeted her. They flitted about, completely unperturbed by the sudden shriek, and Giselle frowned, wrinkling her nose. Did she imagine that? With a shrug Giselle turned back to the puddle of tea on the table and began to mop it up with her baggy shirt sleeve.

"OI!"

Giselle was prepared this time and she ignored the scream this time, coming to the conclusion that the voice either belonged to Peeves the poltergeist who loved to scare students, or James who was hiding underneath his invisibility cloak. Her skin was beginning to sting, souring her mood further, so Giselle gritted her teeth and scowled at the empty room behind her. It had to be James, Peeves liked to cause havoc on the higher floors on the last day of school.

"I'm not in the mood, Potter," sighed Giselle, rubbing her heavy eyes. She glanced over towards the oil painting entrance and waited for him to appear but the longer he kept her waiting the more irritated she grew.

"Go away James, I'm serious-,"

"You called?!" the voice yelled into her ear.

Giselle jolted and swung at the air beside her. Her fist instantly collided with something solid and she retracted her fist, wincing from the punch and her new burns. The invisibility cloak slipped and Sirius Black appeared beside her with a groan, massaging his left eye vigorously. His black hair was ruffled by the cloak, a few flyaways sticking up at odd angles, but his dazzling grin lit up his whole face as his audience's reaction to his reveal pleased him greatly. Slipping onto the bench, Sirius waited for her to say something.

"Hilarious," drawled Giselle, narrowing her eyes as she theatrically tended to her poor fist.

"I thought so," he dismissed her sarcasm confidently, "you should have seen your face."

Giselle went to snap back but Sirius had taken his hand away from his throbbing eye socket, revealing a vivid red mark that circled his silver eye, and she immediately giggled, shuffling closer to inspect her handiwork. Her mood skyrocketed and the dread began to melt from her chest, she couldn't let her sadness ruin her last moments with her best friend.

"Ok, I agree that was funny - you should see your face!"

Sirius frowned and snatched an empty pot from a nearby elf in order to survey the damage, aghast. He prodded his slowly swelling eye and gasped dramatically, genuinely taken aback at the result. Giselle stifled her laughter and stroked her chin, admiring his face.

"You know, it kinda suits you-," she teased.

"C'mon! That is a lie! I'm gorgeous, you can't improve upon perfection," he scoffed, deadpanned. "Do you think it will scar?" She blinked her large eyes at him, admiring his bruising, handsome face. She couldn't deny it, even with a faint black eye he was still a treat to look at.

"Yep," Giselle nodded with a solemn sigh, "it's a known fact that black eyes and scars are practically the same thing, I hate to break it to you but you're scarred for life."

Sirius pouted thoughtfully, side-eyeing Giselle. "It better be cooler than Remus' scars, I don't want him to out-scar me."

"If you like, I could punch you in the other eye as well? That would definitely give you the upper hand," she suggested, flashing him a pretty smile to soften the blow. Sirius caught her smile and hesitated, his eyes glittering mischievously. She knew that look too well and instinctively smirked, waiting for his cheeky remark.

"I think you're just looking for an excuse to touch me again," gloated Sirius and he arched an eyebrow suggestively at her. Giselle couldn't help but rise to his bait, she loved to snap back.

"Oh please Black!" laughed Giselle, playfully shoving him away, "don't act so innocent, I know you're looking for an excuse as well. Why have you interrupted my silent tea-drinking session?"

"I've come to turn your tea party into-," Sirius shoved his hand under the table and pulled a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey seemingly from nowhere, "a real party!" He was ecstatic at his own idea, grinning ear to ear as he slammed the bottle onto the table and he puffed out his chest. "You are so welcome."

Giselle pouted, unable to stop herself from returning his beaming smile. She secretly hoped that Sirius would hunt her down tonight, she knew there were unresolved issues between them concerning her departure and the anxious butterflies in her stomach encouraged her to go along with his plans. The alcohol might make it easier… Giselle crossed her fingers in her lap.

"For this to qualify as a party we would need one more person," she said, plucking two goblets from a nearby tray and passing them to her drinking partner, "was no one else available?"

"No," admitted Sirius, pouring out two very generous measurements, "as you can imagine I was overwhelmed with people begging me to invite them to the most prestigious party of the century but…" he sighed, "I wanted it to be just us two."

Giselle's heart faltered, cringing at the possibility of completely breaking down in front of him. She held onto her smile and picked up her drink just to do something with her shaky hands. "I'm glad it's just us two."

"Besides, I don't think the others could handle a little firewhiskey," he joked, trying to ease the tension, "you, on the other hand, are a beast."

"Oi!" laughed Giselle, nudging him in the ribs. "No beast discrimination please! We are a humble race but I won't hesitate to beat your arse."

"Even after half a bottle of whiskey?" challenged Sirius, his eyes shining with glee.

"Especially after half a bottle of whiskey," purred Giselle and she knocked back the deep amber liquid as if it were a glass of water. The stinging in her throat seared but she swallowed the pain, pretending that the shot hadn't bothered her. Sirius was stunned, always delighted at her fieriness. He shrugged off his denim jacket and threw it onto the bench beside James' cloak, getting comfortable. He had swapped his school robes for an oversized navy sweater, fitted dark trousers and a pair of muddy black boots but the sweater came off swiftly and he rolled up his shirt sleeves after he downed his own shot. The mixture of the aromatic hair conditioner Sirius used and the homely musk of the Gryffindor common room rolled over Giselle and her stomach abruptly pined, crying out for him. The panic she felt earlier was back so she poured herself another drink, avoiding his face.

"Don't go, Giselle," whispered Sirius.

Fuck, thought Giselle, instinctively swallowing the firewhiskey to sooth her nerves.

"I'm not going anywhere, this is a party, right?" she joked, fervidly pushing the subject away from her leaving but her attempt was futile, she couldn't pretend she wasn't hurting when Sirius pinched her chin between his finger and thumb and forced her to meet his distraught gaze. All humour had disappeared from his boyish face, he couldn't take it any more.

"You know what I mean," he murmured, "don't leave me, us - Hogwarts. Leaving the castle now makes our fours seem like a waste of time, everything we've discovered together, all the memories we've made, it was all for nothing. I don't know what I'm going to do without you here and I don't want to find out." He searched her eyes for some sort of sign that his words were working but the sparkle in her ink blue eyes gently faded away.

"I don't want to go, you know I don't," whispered Giselle, her bottom lip wobbling, "I can't stand the idea of being thousands of miles away from you but I can't think of a way to get out of this, you know what my fathers like-,"

"But you've got to try, we have to try," urged Sirius, too upset to hide the crack in his voice, "Your father is an arsehole, you've never listened to him before so why are you listening to him now? You're better than this, I know how strong you are and you don't have to do this." Giselle squeezed her eyes shut, praying for the universe to listen to their cries for help. The heavy weight in her stomach got worse as she felt Sirius' other hand slip around her neck, the heat from his touch electrified her. Unexplored feelings towards her best friend were rising to the surface, she couldn't ignore them anymore and she cursed herself for acknowledging them hours before she left forever. She yearned for his affection, she needed it now more than ever.

"Maybe…" Giselle eventually opened her eyes, "maybe tomorrow we could run away together? You can't go home either, it got worse last summer and I can't bear the thought of you being alone in that hellhole." She had never seen so much hope in his eyes before, she could feel his shock in his touch as goosebumps ravaged his body. He was right, she needed to try.

"I don't know where we would go, Father will do everything in his power to hunt me down," she continued, improvising a plan. She knew Sirius would go with her, they had spent almost four years fantasising about their eventual escape from their families and every fantasy included them being together, wherever that sanctuary may be.

"James always said there's room at his house, his parents wouldn't mind us moving in for the summer," he said excitedly, "I can't go back and neither can you, we could actually do this, Elle."

"I…" Giselle couldn't finish her thought, it was too painful. She wanted nothing more than to stay with Sirius for the entire summer but she knew it was a silly dream, she knew all of this planning was pointless and that her father would drag her kicking and screaming from the Potter residence. "I don't know, Sirius."

"Please, Giselle," he urged her, tightening his grip on her chin. She could feel his ragged breath on her face, encouraging the blush in her freckled cheeks, and her eyes flicked to his lips. They were right there, begging her to act on her desires. "I can't do this without you. We promised each other that we'd run away when things got bad again, you promised…"

"I'll try," she squeaked, blinking away the tears, "I'll do whatever it takes to get back to you. I won't let Father tear us apart, I'll be back here before you know it. I won't be at Beauxbatons long, just wait and see."

"But…" Sirius trailed off, his thumb caressing her delicate chin, "but…"

"I'm so sorry," whispered Giselle, refusing to break their intense eye contact.

The crackling stoves in the kitchen filled the silence between them, words had failed them and they didn't know where to go from here. The agonizing throbbing of her heart rattled Giselle's bones, her breathing started to get erratic and she knew Sirius could tell she was beginning to panic. Tears rolled down his cheeks but he couldn't wipe them away, he couldn't let go of Giselle. She saw his gaze land on her trembling bottom lip and she closed her eyes. This couldn't happen, not now.

Sirius heard that the best way to stop time was with a kiss but he wasn't prepared for the entire universe to stop in its tracks. When he kissed her, he felt like he could reverse time itself. He knotted his fingers in Giselle's hair and closed the gap between them, kissing her harder than he anticipated. She melted like putty in his hands and instinctively latched onto his face, she never knew how desperate she was for his touch until she felt his tongue against hers. They shuddered at each other's affection and ignored the moisture of their tears on their cheeks. Their kiss was hotter than they expected. Giselle could taste the alcohol on his lips, it sent fierce shots of electricity through her veins and encouraged her to make the situation worse, the clown inside of her wanted to play and she secretly thanked her friends for staying away from the kitchens tonight.

"You just had to wait until our last night to kiss me," said Giselle breathlessly, kneeling up on the bench in front of Sirius. She was shorter than him by a few inches but her new position allowed her to tower over him. She swatted his hands away from her face and wrapped her own arms around his neck, smothering him with another slow kiss to show him how badly she needed this.

"Don't," his voice was strained, he could only focus on her mouth, "just… don't." He knotted his hands around her waist, she couldn't move from his strong grip and she didn't want to, she felt so safe in his embrace.

When Giselle finally pulled away she opened her eyes to see him gazing mournfully at her and her heart burst out of her chest and flopped onto the floor, obliterated. She couldn't stand his sadness, she could physically feel his pain.

"I'll write to you every day," he breathed, barely audible over the kitchen's ambience and the thumping of her racing heartbeat, "I want to hear every detail of your days there, I want to know everything you get up to and we will come up with a plan to break you out of that stuffy european prison."

Giselle could only nod, each word was a dagger to her lungs. He was finally accepting her terrible fate.

"We will come up with a plan, I'm going to send you so many owls that you'll be sick of the sight of my handwriting," she whispered, her inky eyes brighter than ever.

"That's impossible," he grinned, "I could never get sick of you, I'm expecting thousands of letters." He tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and tried to memorise the pretty pattern of her freckles on her nose. "Promise me that you won't forget about me, Elle."

Giselle's lips parted in shock and she viciously shook her head.

"As long as you don't forget about me, I promise?" she told him in a thick voice.

"I could never forget you. I promise," he swore as he kissed her one last time.

Edited: 21-08-21