"Are you sure you're alright, dearie?" Madame Pomfrey grunted as the 6th year Elizabeth Jones waved off her help, standing on unsteady legs with a determined gaze, "I'm fine, Madame Pomfrey. You should be worrying about Jean, not me. And I promised Professor Snape I'd assist him this afternoon—"
Pomfrey waved off her words "Don't mind Severus, you need your rest and shouldn't be out and about all willy nilly."
"I think Pomfrey is right, Liza, come back and rest your little noggin'." Jean waved over her friend with a soft but wary smile, "Snape can go one day without your help. Come keep your best friend company."
Eliza wouldn't say it out loud, but Jean had been awful weird since she'd woken up; the other girl smiling oddly bright and practically begging her to stay.
But Eliza wasn't giving up, "I promise I'll be back later. Rest up."
And then she was out of the Hospital Wing and back into the Hogwarts Corridors, a practical skip to her step as the dreary sunlight hit her bandaged wrist. The crack on the crown of her skull had been healed overnight, but the wrist would be a nuisance for the coming days.
The actual memory of the Quidditch game was foggy; nothing past chasing the Snitch really remained in her past sight, though Jean had made sure to bring her up to date on all she'd missed, which wasn't much. Dumbledore had banished Dementor's to the Forbidden Forest and Harry had woken up that morning and went about his day with his destroyed Nimbus 2000. When Eliza had asked if anyone had come across her broom, instead of admitting they hadn't looked, they just shrugged their shoulders.
The hallways held a few lingering students—most of them openly gawked at her with judgmental eyes—but she ignored them in favor of speeding to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, knocking once and catching her breath.
She was abruptly turned by one pale hand and stared up at the face of Professor Snape, watching him raise one eyebrow at her presence. It felt as though he was analyzing her current state—felt his beading eyes stare at her bandaged wrist.
"I'd assumed you'd be in the Hospital Wing under the supervision of Madame Pomfrey, but once again, you seem to defy even myself." His words were lacking their usual bite but still had her shuddering.
She stood straight and let her injured wrist fall behind her back, "Well, Professor, I couldn't leave you to teach alone, could I?"
Her attempt to turn and walk into the classroom is foiled by the hand still resting on her shoulder, his eyes watching her like a hawk. He eventually releases her and lightly pushed her into the classroom before stalking past with ease, wand out and shutting each blind with precision.
Eyes watched as Eliza seamlessly slid around the corner of the classroom, planting into an empty side seat that held a few roll books and assignments in need of grading. She refused to acknowledge any of the looks as she marked who was there and who was absent. The voice of Draco Malfoy stood out from the rest, and Harry Potter lingered in there too.
"Turn to page 394."
Snape's tone dripped with annoyance and he stalked back to the projector. Eliza gave a soft smile to the nervous Ronald Weasley, frowning at the empty seat next to him, noting Hermione Granger proved to not be present with her normal duo. It was an oddity, to see the young Granger missing, but she ticked her name off and moved on down the list, eventually sitting back and watching Snape.
"Werewolves?" Ron sounded befuddled, turning back to glance at a blank faced Snape.
"But, Sir," the airy childlike voice of Hermione Granger piped up, surprising not only a confused Ron Weasley but Eliza as well. "We were just learning about red caps and hinkypucks."
Eliza did a double take; looking back and forth between the black marks next to Hermione's name, absolutely, positively, sure that the 3rd year hadn't been there just the moment before. It was a head-scratching situation, but she had no choice but to correct the mark, watching Snape start his lecture.
"Now, can anyone tell me the difference between a werewolf and an Animagus?" Hermione's hand was the only one that shot up, but Snape snidely remarked "No one? How disappointing."
Eliza internally cringed as Hermione chirped out "Professor, please," wishing the younger girl knew that no matter what answer she gave, it would only result in a sneer and insult.
"An Animagus is a wizard who chooses to turn into an animal; a werewolf has no choice. A werewolf on the full moon would kill his best friend, they respond to the call of their own kind."
And as any student would expect, Snape tore into her with no mercy, his words scatching and crude, "Are you incapable of restraining yourself… or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"
A small shred of pity went out to the young 3rd year, and Eliza turned down to grade the stack of parchments she'd neglected since walking in, only in and out on the werewolf topic at hand, wondering why he'd chosen this of all topics.
The rest of the class went by fairly fast; Draco Malfoy wore a brace on his 'injured' arm and took great pride in pestering one Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley continued to be obtuse on the lesson. She was nearly through half the pile when Snape released the students with two rolls of parchment due a few days from then, stalking his way to glare down at Eliza.
His eyes scanned the graded parchment, "You seem to have exceeded my expectations once more, Miss Jones."
She stood with a stretch, "Always happy to help, Professor. Though… if I may ask?"
His blank expression was enough of a 'yes'. "Has something happened to Professor Lupin?"
She could see it was the wrong question to ask as his face grew hard, nose scrunching and lips flattening to a sneer. The utter revolt in his eyes had her wanting to fall back into a shell a walk away, but his stare held her frozen.
"No idea." He shrugged and stalked away, grabbing his textbook on his stride out of the door, shutting it with a slam, leaving Eliza by herself in an empty classroom.
She left the papers on the desk and silently left the classroom, frowning at the way Snape had answered her, just knowing there was something going on that she just hadn't figure out. Remus missing, Hermione Granger appearing out of thin air, and this odd change of lesson plan to werewolves; why did it feel like she was missing something?
One week following the disastrous day on the Quidditch Pitch, the Hogsmeade trip came for every desperate student.
Hogsmeade was bustling with activity; every store filled to the brim with hyperactive students that wanted more sweets than they could carry. The upper years were hiding out in The Three Broomsticks, drinking their fill in Butterbeer and the occasional shot of Firewhisky.
Eliza, Jean, Daisy and Desmond strolled out of Honeydukes; Desmond's pockets were brimming with sugary concoctions that would no doubt rot his pearly whites, and he was the one currently directing where'd they go next. Eliza held onto Jean's wrapped up arm, sighing to herself and watching her friends have more fun than herself.
It wasn't that she hadn't been looking forward to this trip for weeks, but the fact that she hadn't seen Remus in the entire time since she'd been released from the Hospital Wing. There was a hollow feeling on her chest—it was almost painful to really focus on this pressure in her chest—and she found herself craving the sight of his ginger hair, or a glimpse of the scars lining his cheeks.
Oh god, she even missed his smell; the earthy musk that seemed to permeate his being and enter into every pore on her body.
"What do you think?" Reality slammed back into Eliza, and the images of Remus faded into the snowy background, Desmond's waiting stare filling her vision. "Knock, Knock, Anyone home?"
Jean tugged on Eliza's thick jacket, "Something the matter?"
The guilt that followed not telling her friends about her odd and nearly inappropriate thoughts about Remus Lupin still lingered a bit, festering every time that anyone of them looked at her with a wondering gaze. She wanted to tell them, honest, but was so scared they just wouldn't understand. Possibiltes of judgement and disgust were too high.
Hell, she barely understood it herself. So, for now, she'd keep it to herself.
"I'm fine, just thinking about Buckbeak is all, but sorry, what were you saying?" Daisy didn't look convinced but Desmond didn't question Eliza's lame excuse, puckering his lips and recalled his previous question, "Did you want to head to the Three Broomsticks for a bit? Or did you have something you wanted to do?"
"Three Broomsticks is fine. I could go for a Butterbeer about now." The four friends trudged through the snow and calmly entered the pub, finding a table near the back. Desmond dug into his pocket for a moment, face filled with determination as he searched.
"Is that Slughorn? The hell do you think he's doing in here of all places?"
Eliza followed Jean's finger and well, there he was, waving to Madame Rosmerta and trailing up a secluded pathway of stairs. It was the reserved area for business meetings, and curiosity bloomed in Eliza.
"What'd you thinks going on up there?" Jean clenched her jaw and glared as Desmond produced a novelty ear with a grin, "I'll be back, get me a Butterbear, yeah?"
There was no time to stop him from running off, ear hidden in his clenched fist. "What do we do if he gets caught?"
Daisy shrugged, "Act like we don't know him?"
"But you're twins?" Jean made a point, but Daisy shrugged again, "Not then we're not."
The three girls chuckled before Eliza stood and offered, "I'll get us drinks, yeah?" She stood and slipped off her coat, making way to the bar to pay for the four Butterbeers—
"Sorry!" The apology flew as a body collided with her own, sending her off course and nearly knocking over another table. A few of the shrunken heads by the door started cackling as she righted herself, looking around to see who she'd run into.
Except… there was no one around to properly apologize to, and she looked to the ground, seeing icy footprints leading right to her own, coming from the door.
"Oi? You got a problem, girl?" A half drunkard garbled at her, eliciting half smile as she made way to get the 4 Butterbeers, barely being able to carry them with her wrapped wrist. They glasses sloshed over the edges as she collapsed back in her chair, smiling at the two other girls.
"What took you so long? I saw you standing there looking lost." Jean took a big glug as Eliza retold what'd happened. "Are you sure you it was another person? You might've just hit your hip on the table."
"No, it felt like a person, I know it did." They didn't really believe her so she let it go, drinking her sweet concoction, enjoying a bit of mindless chatter. It was nice to be in a setting outside of school and classroom, just enjoying a pint with her mates.
Jean took a sip and grinned, "Have you applied for being a prefect next year? I remember you mentioned it last year."
"To be honest, I forgot completely," Eliza admitted, taking a sip of the surgery concoction, "I guess it's not to late to try. I'm guessing it would look great if I was a 7th year prefect when I apply for the Ministry at the end of next year."
Jean sputtered, "The Ministry? They're positively vile in their ways; my dad talks about the way the Ministry views Muggles and Muggleborns, calls them abominations. And I'm not trying to hurt your feelings or anything, but what makes you think they'd even take you? You know…" She made an obvious point to her forearm and Eliza went red with shame.
"I'd like to think that they'd view me as an individual and not an extension of my parents."
"I think we'd all like to think that, but that doesn't make it true." Jean clarified and reached forward, patting her friend's bare forearm.
Daisy saw the tension in Eliza's shoulders and tried to change the subject, "Some 4th year started asking McGonagall about Black sightings, like she'd actually tell him, and then she assigned this—Oh hey, you're back—oh, what?"
"We need to go. Now." Desmond was out of breath and had a look crossed between amazement and shock, which prompted the girls to shrug back on their jackets and flee the Three Broomsticks. A few suspicious eyes stared at their backs, but most returned back to their drinks.
The group of four walked away from the hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade, finding a stoop near the tall trees of the Forbidden Forest to rest and also Desmond to catch his breath. Jean crossed her arms as best she could, staring at the Hufflepuff boy with an expectant eye, "Well? What happened?"
"I stood on a stool near the back and put the ear to the ceiling to hear what Slughorn was talking about, and girls, you're not ready for this." Desmond grinned at the three girls eager but slightly annoyed faces.
"C'mon, then, tell us!"
Desmond gave a bright smile, "Sirius Black is Harry Potter's Godfather."
"Seriously?" Jean threw her hands in the air, "Why does everything happen to Harry Potter?"
"Wait, wait, do you know what this means?" Eliza let a ghastly look cross over her face, "He could be coming to kill Harry, that's why the was spotted in Hogsmeade a while back. Who knows how long they've know… who else was in there?"
"I think I heard McGonagall, didn't really recognize the rest of them," his brows furrowed, "Do you think Potter knows about Black?"
"I doubt it. There's no way they'd tell a third year a mass murderer is on his way to kill him while he sleeps." Daisy grumbled before kicking the snow by her feet, jumping as Jean let out a snarl that would rival a ferocious manticore.
"We're supposed to be having fun, and look at us—here talking about Harry Potter!" She rounded on Eliza, "He knocked you off your broom not a week ago—"
Desmond flinched when she rounded on him next, "And you won't even have a drink with us without eavesdropping on a goddamn private conversation between Professors that weren't meant for you bloomin' ears. What's wrong with the lot of you!" Her voice was a scream by the end of her rant, chest puffing in a wild tangent.
The three friends watched Jean storm back away, steam shooting from her ears. Eliza was tempted to go after her friend, but Daisy's hand on her arm stopped her, instead watching with a broken frown.
It happened on a day like any other, the news the Sirius Black had been spotted in the castle; even if Jean, Eliza and Daisy hadn't really been speaking since Hogsmeade, the news that the Gryffindor Fat Lady portrait had spotted him—well, she'd initially been missing from her painting on account of a few scratch marks—and she'd cried that Black had stood before her, eyes evil and full of rage.
Hogwarts had been in a panic since then; no students were allowed to sleep in their dormitories, and the process of having every student sleep in the Great Hall was quiet undesirable.
The 4 Hufflepuffs were all lined next to each other, and Eliza and Jean lied awake as the sky above them showed starts and misty clouds. Professors were instructed to be ready at the wands with watching the students and looking for one Sirius Black.
"Do you think he's really here?" Jean whispered to Eliza, eyes wide and lips pursed, "And you're lucky this happened or I'd still be mad."
"I don't know," she mumbled back, "I wonder if they'll close the school."
"Probably, they don't want a repeat of last year." Jean sighed, hugging the blanket close to her chest before muttering, "Can I tell you something? Something I promised I wouldn't tell?"
Eliza nodded and cuddled into her own covers, watching her friend with wide eyes and open ears, "That night, when you were at the Hospital Wing…" she continued, "Lupin was there, next to you, talking to you."
This was news to Elizabeth, and it caused warmth to spread in her chest. "What did he say?"
"Not a lot," Jean lied, changing the subject a bit, "Snape was there, too."
"Snape?" came out louder than she'd intended and Dumbledore turned on his heels, looking over the various sleeping students with a harsh eye, eventually returning back to watching one Harry Potter.
The two girls gave it a few moments before whispering once more, "What did Snape say?"
"He doesn't like Lupin, I don't think he trusts him…" she shrugged in the blanket, "It was strange, that's all."
Eliza nodded and thought about what she'd just been told, wishing she could just confront the two Professors and ask what was going on. Almost every interaction with Snape had felt off, and learning that Remus had visited her unconscious beaten body, in the middle of the night, just didn't make sense.
This entire year was just full of absolute nonsense; here she was, craving her Professor and now Sirius Black was in the Castle. It was headache worthy, remembering the worries of classes and friendships—god, she'd barely been keeping the little Bowtruckle living in her dormitory company—and now this.
"Are you in love with Lupin?"
It was a forward and abrupt question that nearly had Eliza choking, confusion running through her mind. Every sensible part of her mind was screaming no, it wasn't true and it couldn't be, shouldn't be.
And yet—
The only answer that felt right was—
"Yes," Eliza murmured with a wobbling lip, "Is it wrong?"
Jean mused for a moment, seeing her oldest friends glassy eyes, "Does it feel wrong?"
"Quiet."
Snape's voice rang above their heads, the black clothed feet of the Potions Professor nearly touching their crowns. The looked up at him before turning so their backs were touching, waiting for him to walk away with meticulous steps that mimicked the rumble of the clouds above.
Both girls knew Eliza's answer, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Friday came all to soon, and Eliza stood outside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, fingering her coat and looking back and forth down the empty corridor. The levels of anxiety and paranoia had been raised up higher than ever before since Hogsmeade; a vow taken between the group to not reveal what they knew. Eavesdropping on Slughorn was grounds for expulsion—at least, according to Eliza it was—so as far as they were concerned, nothing had gone awry in The Three Broomsticks.
And now, here she stood, fist ready to knock on the door of the Professor she had missed dearly, much more than she should. The rapping of her knuckles echoed through the corridor, and the wait was near painful.
A few moments passed—these beats of silence saw her rocking on her feet and staring at the wood details on the door, almost reaching out to run the tips of her fingers along them—but the door swung open to show a smiling Remus, eyes bright and smile wide.
"I was just beginning to wonder when you'd come around. Please, come in. " The classroom looked much like it had when Snape had taught, the rows of desk much more dreary looking than the Boggart lesson she'd had the chance to come upon.
They trailed upstairs to his office and the door audibly locked, leaving the two of them alone.
The windows were wide open, giving the room a dark hue that chilled Eliza's bones—and her eyes zeroed in on the heavy case resting in the corner. The gold locks reflected her face from across the room, Remus watching her with a smile.
"Let's give it a try," He nodded at her worried brows, "Whenever you're ready."
Except—as her wand trembled in her hand—she wasn't ready. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
He nodded and was next to her in an instant, hands resting on her shoulders, "Remember what we said; your happiest memory is the source of its power."
It took a few moments for her to try and find a memory that brought her joy, and once she did, she held onto it tight and pressed it to the forefront of her mind; hearing her friends youthful laughter and childlike smiles. Focusing on a certain memory took strain and concentration, and she warily raised her wand.
"Expecto Patronum."
Remus watched as flutters of light sputtered pitifully at the edge of the student's wand, feeling her shoulders sag under his hands with utter defeat. Her wand fell back to her side and she turned with a frown.
"It didn't work." Her deflated tone had Remus glowered, strolling forward and rubbing the tips of his fingers over her covered shoulders, soon enveloping her in his side.
"No one ever gets it on their first time," he explained, "It took me years to master my own, but I never gave up trying, and neither will you. Not if I have any say in it." He patted her arm and nodded to her wand, "Try it again, and think harder this time. Really focus on that memory."
She grunted and raised the wand gripped between her trembling fingers, eyes shutting as the memories played behind her eyes like a film, the strongest one lingering longer than any other she knew.
"We love you, Elizabeth. You're the starlight in our eyes, and even when we are apart, we will never leave you."
"But what if I forget about you? How will I know you'll always be there?"
A manicured hand ran over her cheek, "The ones that love us, never truly leave us."
The spell fell from her lips like a gasp, her eyes still shut as that hand ran over her cheek one last time. Though her eyes were closed, she physically felt the magic of the Patronus flow through her veins, and Remus gleefully watched the blue shield flow from her wand, pressing her closer to his side as the shield died down.
Her eyes opened and she'd barely muttered, "Did it work?" as Remus enveloped her in a staggering hug, crushing her to his chest while praises went over her head. He held her there for a few minutes, letting the beating of his chest calm down to a more soft tempo.
She pulled back and looked up at him, smiling as he gushed, "Elizabeth, my darling, I'm so proud of you. Conjuring the shield is almost half the battle, and with practice, you'll be able to give your Patronus a definite shape."
A fond smile fell across her face at his words, and it must have been the overzealous delight at conjuring a Patronus, or perhaps just the thrill of receiving praise from Remus, but her balls of her feet lifted off the ground, and her lips slammed against his.