To have a sense of déjà vu was such a muggle sentiment. To find yourself feeling as though you've been here before, that this has already happened.
Elizabeth Jones had experienced enough déjà vu in the past few months to last her a lifetime, never wanting to see a Time Turner, or really any of those three mischievous and trouble seeking third years, ever again. There had been enough magic that even her witchy self was deflated, wishing that her life was back in London and not here, at Hogwarts.
But alas, if wishes were wolves, she'd have a pack.
"Are you going to see him off?" Jean stepped into the Dormitory, trying her hardest to not startle the other girl, "I heard around that he resigned. I've seen a few girls trying to sneak into his classrooms to wish him farewell."
"Good for them, I suppose." Eliza moved away from the window and searched through the bedside drawer, gently setting Leaf on the fluffy comforter, and chucking the cursed Potions Book at her friend. "I'll stop by the DADA classroom after I return that to Snape. I think it's better off in his hands."
"Is this where—" Eliza nodded, petting the little Bowtruckle and watching her friend flip open the marked book, "Wow, look at all this, does any of it work?"
Eliza grimly nodded, "All of it." Jean continued flipping pages, stopping finally, reading aloud, "Sectumsempra, to harm a foe…"
"See?" she shrugged, "Nothing in there about 'eviscerating' your enemy."
Jean shut the book and threw it back on the bed, nodding with a frown, "I can see that. But I'm still glad your returning it, you don't need it anyway and, who knows, maybe Snape didn't even mean to give it to you."
"That's the funny thing…" Eliza pointed out, "When I asked for a new book, he didn't get it from the other books; he got it from his desk."
The perfectly plucked brows on Jean's head rose, "Huh… maybe he meant to then." She continued, "Do you have any idea why he might want you to have that anyway?"
"No idea."
A giggling Daisy fluttered into the Dormitory, instantly spotting her two friends with a bright smile, "Gosh, it feels like I haven't seen you two in ages." She turned to Eliza with a faux grin, "Sorry about Lupin, I heard he got sacked."
"He didn't," Eliza snapped; regret overtaking her features. "I mean—I heard he resigned. Not that he was fired or anything."
"Alright then." Daisy nodded without a care, turning back to Jean, "Are you ready for your O.W.L's? I've been studying in the library non-stop, I feel like I haven't seen the light of days in years."
"Hey, I'm gonna… take care of a few things. See you two later, yeah?"
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with?" Jean kindly offered, "You know, for moral support."
"Moral support?" Daisy confusedly asked, "What're doing that you need moral support?"
There had been a pact made between Jean and Eliza last night; no one could know about Remus's lycanthropy, or really anything that had gone done. It hurt to keep such massive secrets from their friends, but it there was little doubt that Daisy could actually keep a secret, and Desmond had a mouth bigger than Scotland.
"Nothing," Eliza quickly supplied a reason that wouldn't raise any red flags, "Just wanted to see the Headmaster for something. You know, just Muggle worries and all that."
"Well, why don't we all go, then? I haven't been in Dumbledore's office since 3rd year." Daisy started for the door.
"Uhm—"
"Well—"
"It—it's private, Daisy." Eliza tried to not break into a sweat, while Jean chimed in, "Yeah, real private."
Daisy didn't look convinced, but backed off. "Oh—okay then, I guess, I'll just see you later…I guess."
"Yeah, later."
The awkward silence was crushing, and Eliza made quick work of patting Leaf on the head and directing him over to Jean, as well as grabbing to Potions book, fleeing the room with a cheery wave.
The Halls were filled with lingering students; most of them cramming for their upcoming O.W.L's—there were a few boys in the Courtyard staring into a crystal ball with unblinking gazes—and a few simply assuming they'll wing every exam on the spot.
The diverging path to the Dungeons always held lingering Slytherins, the likes of Draco Malfoy and Silas lounging against a particularly angry portrait of an old man. There was a horrendous red mark spotting the bridge of the young Malfoy's nose, and even a few other Slytherins's snickered on their way back and forth.
Eliza walked by them effortlessly—"My father will hear about his, and stop laughing you idiot."—strolling down into the depths of the Dungeons, ignoring the jeers from the green clothed students, knocking twice on the Potion Masters door.
He answered almost immediately, raising a brow at her blank face, "Come in."
She followed behind him and felt the door slam shut, the cold of the classroom chilling her bones. There was still a part of her that was infuriated that he'd used magic against her just last night, but wasn't in the mood for a fight.
"Here," she produced the Potions book and walked to his desk, dropping it just as he took his seat. "I don't need this anymore."
"Hm." He gingerly lifted the item at hand, opening it up to the first page before snapping it shut. "May I ask as to why you felt the need to return your book four days before your peers?"
She gulped, "Because there's something wrong with that one. I should've given it back the moment I opened it."
"And yet, you didn't." Snape rubbed his pale hand along the worn out spin, "Did it ever occur to you that perhaps, this book coming into your possession was… intentional? Hm?"
The color drained from her face, "You—You meant to give it to me… but why?" she snatched it back from his hands, flipping through the pages and showing him, "Someone's ruined it already, and I—I did something horrible—"
"Miss Jones." He cut her off, "It's funny that you would call this book ruined, when I would call it… fixed."
The cogs were turning as she left the book flip shut, shaking her head in confusion, "No, no, that doesn't make sense." She leaned forward in shock, "Professor Snape… is this your book?"
His silence was a resounding answer that nearly had her stumbling back in shock, clutching one of the desks with a tight grip. Snape held her gaze and stood, stealthily stalking around the rectangular desk and placing his death like form in her way.
She gulped, the confirmation spilling from her dry lips.
"You're the Half-Blood Prince."
To which he nodded, "Yes, I am."
"Professor Snape," she whispered between them, "Why did you give this to me. I know you did it on purpose and I deserve to know why."
He made no move to answer.
Tension raged between them, and she stood up straight, "It doesn't matter anyway. I still don't want it. I think it would be better in your hands, Sir."
A moment passed before he backed away, giving her a bit of breathing room and a moment to think, rubbing her sweaty palms on her blouse. There were no more words exchanged as she made her way to the door.
"I hope you are aware that this conversation must never leave this room, Miss Jones." He uttered into the air, not even flinching as she let the door slam shut.
Her footsteps were quiet as she rounded back out of the Dungeons, shrugging off an almost 'concerned' look from Silas, trying to make sense of the conversation she'd just had.
There were two things she was sure of; Snape had the capabilities of creating spells, but who could even guess when he'd made it, possibly during his schooling years at Hogwarts, and that he'd meant to give her that book—had meant for her too see his notes and his modifications—for a reason she couldn't quiet understand.
All of her interactions with Snape this year had been, to put it plainly, absolutely bonkers.
The hallway that led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was empty; no more lingering students and all of the Courtyards loungers had fled. The illusion of privacy gave her the strength to push open his door, not giving the courtesy of knocking. The room was empty, the chairs having been stacked away and the door to his office remained open, her legs striding across and up the classroom stairs, standing clear in the doorway.
She'd been expecting him to possibly look tired, but this was much worse; the hair that was normally styled back to keep from his eyes was flat and lifeless, the scars of his cheeks red and angry, dark bags resting under his eyes as shallow breaths echoed in his chest.
The dark green cape he'd worn the first day they'd met rested on his back, and her heart broke for him, not even taking a moment to think as she leapt onto him, clutching him close.
It took only a moment for his arms to slowly pull her closer, his nose resting on the crown of her head and inhaling deeply, wanting to memorize her scent. She allowed her ear to rest against his chest, listening to the calming heartbeat, wishing they could stay this way forever.
But alas—
Remus pulled back first, using his finger to lift her chin, somberly whispering, "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Remus," she lets her hand rest on his chest, "Nothing bad happened last night. No one was hurt, and Sirius is free." He tried to butt in but she cut him off, "No, don't even try and make you being a werewolf the problem here."
Remus chuckled, scars crinkling, "Only you would argue with a werewolf the night after the full moon." His hands skimmed a strand of her hair, twirling it around his finger, "How did I ever get so lucky?"
"I ask myself the same thing." The pair stared at one another, leaning in and allowing fireworks to explode behind their eyes, lips meeting in a perfect kiss. His hands gripped her close, nails digging into the cloth coating her lower back, covered breasts pressing harshly against his chest as a low growl rumbled in his throat.
It was a fight for dominance; his tongue wanting domain over every part of her. The taste of her was enough to have him desperate, knowing that there much more devious things he'd love to move onto. But instead his lips pulled away, a string of saliva connecting them.
"Is something wrong?" he shook his head, nosing at her cheek, "I'd rather not take you against this desk, as I can guarantee it would hurt your back."
A nearly unseen blush marred her skin, avoiding his lust filled eyes, "I can agree that my first time should be somewhere more romantic than an empty office."
The hands still on her back tightened even more, a wicked smirk blooming on his face. "I'll make sure of it."
She chuckled, pecking one of the scars on his cheek and returning her head to rest of his chest, loving the feel of being in his arms. They were silent for the moment, allowing the light to wash over their joined bodies. "Will you always be with me, Remus?"
For now, his nod was enough of an answer.
2 months later
London was gloomy today; the clouds hung in the sky as if they'd already requested and been accepted for a permanent residence, and the sun was powerless in handing over an eviction notice in their stay. Their presence brought a gloomy feel that made Eliza rest her cheek on her palm, elbow keeping her head at height with the window.
It was raining as well, gutters covered in loads of water and a harsh wind tearing through the streets that had people running for cover. Lone umbrellas stumbled down the sidewalk, having been caught in the breeze. Cars mostly stayed off the streets on days like this, so only the occasional bus ran by.
"Elizabeth? Darling?" Mara yelled up the stairs, "Do you want to come with me to the Market? We're low on everything." Eliza stuck her tongue out before yelling back, "Bring me back some cheese crisps, please!"
She was vaguely aware of Mara sputtering on about ungrateful teenagers and ungodly wind, but the slamming door meant she had left to venture out into the cold. Eliza's eyes drifted to the bookshelf; maybe a book would be a good way to occupy her time, or maybe Mara had some knitting downstairs that would be interesting—
A yelp left her lips and she fell from her chair, a force crashing against the window that startled her beyond belief. She was quick to sit up and sneakily peer outside, hoping no one had been throwing rocks at her window. But alas, a burly brown owl fluttered its wings with wet letter in its mouth.
It was a task trying to take her assumed letter— a nasty biter that one— but she got it eventually and shut the window once more.
It wasn't handwriting she knew, but the address was all too familiar. It was the Weasley Burrow, and there was a small sense if urgency as her hands tore open the letter, assuming it was Molly or Arthur asking her to visit.
Elizabeth,
It seems we have an extra ticket to the 422nd Quidditch World Cup…
End of Howl
Next
Moonrise
And that's it!
Next we move into the Goblet of Fire! I only have two pre-written chapters, that require moderate editing, so they should be up soon!