828A/N: Hi guys! This story centres around a 7th year Ravenclaw student, Róisín Feral.
Snape is the same age as in the books, 35, (so keep in mind he is much younger than he appears in the films).
The story follows canon until Harry's fifth year (Sept 1995) which is when it starts. There are a few small changes, for example Lupin has returned to Hogwarts to teach Defence this year, but in general you can presume the events so far have been the same as the books.
It is rated Mature because there will be explicit scenes in later chapters.
Róisín pressed her thighs together and shuddered. Roman Jacquet's broad shoulders blocked her view of Professor McGonagall's wand movements at the top of the class. He shifted in his seat and Róisín watched his muscles tense and relax beneath his shirt. Exactly when had he become so muscular? She shook her head, scowling, and focused on McGonagall's transfiguration. The professor's incantations had moulded the apprehensive face of Martin Brown into the head of a hare. His long ears and whiskered cheeks twitched at the buzz of excitement from the class.
Róisín paired up with her best friend and attempted to transfigure her head into that of a foxes'. Her forehead creased as she tried to recall the incantation. She sighed.
"Anna, can you go first? I'm just not with it today."
Anna's shoulders slumped with relief as Róisín lowered the wand pointed at her face. Anna flicked her own and pronounced clearly,
"Convertere faciem lucustas"
Róisín felt her skin angle and harden and her vision blur, she was seeing double, and then triple, then thousands of Anna's bright blue eyes flickering playfully.
McGonagall's stern voice reached her as if through a tunnel,
"Miss Battworth, I highly doubt that Miss Feral had bewitched your ears off before I explicitly stated that mammalian heads were the desired outcome; this enchantment is ill-suited for invertebrates."
The spell started to wear off as the hundreds of stiff-backed professors morphed back into one.
"Pity it didn't last, green really is your colour," Anna teased.
As the two girls walked with the rest of the 7th year Ravenclaws to the Great Hall, Róisín whispered in her friend's ear,
"Is it just me, or has Jacquet filled out nicely this year?" Anna's eyes shot to heaven. "I know, I know, there's definitely something up with my hormones, but trust me, it's annoying me more than you."
The smell of shepherd's pie leaked from the Great Hall down the corridor. Róisín's stomach gurgled.
She spotted Ida at the Ravenclaw table, her ivory hair glinting in the daylight that poured from the bewitched ceiling. The 7th year students had private bedrooms and Ida had hers directly opposite Róisín's. Ida was reserved, sharp-witted and exceptionally good at potions. She'd only begun to warm to Róisín this year.
"After lunch Eóghan said he'd let me have a go on his Moontrimmer, do you guys wanna come?" Róisín asked Ida and Anna over the steaming dishes.
"Doesn't he have a Nimbus seventeen hundred?" Anna replied.
"Yeah he does, he bought the Moontrimmer at an auction. He says it's easy to control, so it should be good for me."
"I would like to but Ida and I have to write that herbology essay." Anna scowled and added, "The one on the importance of unicorn manure for the longevity of the giant white oak."
"Should have dropped herbology like me," Róisín said and winked.
"Oh shut up, at least we don't have to remember all of Jupiter's sixty-seven moons…"
Róisín stuck her tongue out at her friends.
Róisín met Eóghan on the way down from Ravenclaw tower. He was in a short-sleeved t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms with his Moontrimmer and Nimbus under his arm.
"Hey, how are you?"
"Awrite an ye?" Eóghan's Edinburgh brogue made Róisín smile; it made her less conscious of her own Dublin accent.
"Yeah, I'm grand. Thanks for flying with me again."
Róisín, having had a muggle childhood, had never gotten the hang of flying. Eóghan was muggle born too, but he, on the other hand, was captain of the house team. Róisín helped him with arithmancy in exchange for flying lessons.
"No problem, Ah think yer gettin' better." Eóghan's deep voice rolled over his "r", making Róisín's insides twitch a little. "Last time ye almost pulled off a Wronski Feint."
"Hey, stop slaggin' me, you know that was an accident," Róisín whined.
Eóghan's freckles scrunched up around his nose as he grinned at her.
The ground of the quidditch pitch was a patchwork quilt of autumn leaves and the hooped goal posts winked at them from the sky.
"Ok, let's try the Woollongong Shimmy. It's great fir practicin' balance." Eóghan threw her the Moontrimmer and mounted his Nimbus. Róisín could see his strong forearms flex as he grabbed his broom. "Zig-zag up and down the pitch. It's important tae remember to keep yer turns tight and yer centre of gravity close tae the broom. Ok?"
After an hour of practicing double eight loops, Mongolian trick flips and Beiriger barrel rolls Róisín was dizzy and exhausted. The pair descended from the sky. Eóghan jumped off his broom with finesse. Róisín landed with two much speed, tripped and fell forward.
"Are you Ok?" Eóghan trotted over to her and helped her up.
"Yeah, just banged my arm." It twinged a little, but she was flushed mainly from embarrassment.
"Can I see?" Eóghan stepped towards Róisín as she held out her arm. She was close enough to catch his scent; A mix of synthetic freshness (after-shave and magical detergent probably) along with a delicious hint of male perspiration. She breathed in as Eóghan gently examined her hand. A thought struck her, Ogling your classmates is one thing, smelling them is another. Róisín stopped sniffing mid in-hale. "Did I hurt ye?" Eóghan asked.
"Oh, no, it's not painful, just a bruise." She could see his shoulder muscles from where the neck of his T-shirt dipped. They looked really good. He released her hand and grinned at her. The smile lines around his eyes are so sexy, Róisín thought. She shivered with the breeze.
"You're cold," Eóghan said softly. He rubbed his hands along the outsides of her arms and Róisín shifted her weight towards him. Then he leaned in and kissed her.
Her lips were cold against his, and she parted them slightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew him against her. His arms encircled her and pressed tightly against her lower back. She could feel the solid weight of his body all down hers. He kissed her bottom lip and then her top one. His breath, arms and chest were exquisitely warm.
She started to kiss him back when nausea hit her stomach like a punch in the gut. She turned her face away and suddenly felt disgustingly hot. She pushed against his chest and he released her instantly. She held her sides as she doubled over. Oh god, I'm going to vomit.
"What's wrong? Did I-"
"No! I just suddenly feel… unwell. I'll go to Madam Pomfrey." Eóghan stared at her as if she'd shape shifted into some bizarre creature. "Thanks again for the lesson," she sputtered before dashing towards the castle.
The air felt moist and heavy as she rushed through the castle to the first floor, the nausea washing over her like waves of rotten fish soup. Finally she reached the hospital wing.
"I don't feel well."
Madam Pomfrey looked up from her examination of a student who appeared to have been hit with a well-aimed "engorgio" to the nose. Róisín stood in front of her, dizzy and panting.
"Well I can see that." The matron looked Róisín up and down. "For goodness sake, lie down child before you faint."
Róisín climbed onto a spare cot and closed her eyes. The nausea had started to subside and her skin was no longer searing. What just happened? Did someone hex me from afar? What does Eóghan think?
Madam Pomfrey deflated the other student's nose and turned to Róisín.
"Pupils fully dilated…high fever…tremors…confusion," the matron muttered as she swished her wand in complicated patterns above Róisín.
"Miss Feral, you didn't get your hands on "Ethier's Excellent Exceeds-Expectations Elixir" did you?" The nurse's voice was stern. "I know it's stashed under the beds of the more recalcitrant members of Ravenclaw house. Even freshly brewed that potion overstimulates and overwhelms far more often than it leads to Outstandings."
"No Madam." Róisín shook her head vigorously. "I don't do drugs."
"Hmph" The matron did not seem fully convinced. "Well if that's the case, tell me what happened."
"Eóghan and I went out to practice our flying. When I landed I tripped and bruised my arm." Róisín indicated the yellow splotch growing on her arm. "A minute later I suddenly felt really, really sick, as if I were going to vomit, and I felt awfully hot as well." The matron's face tightened.
"Nothing else unusual happened? You didn't see anyone else, or perform any strange spells? You and Mister MacCormack didn't try out any balance enhancing charms, or resisting wind resistance incantations?"
"No, I don't remember doing anything unusual. Except… well, it happened while we were kissing."
"Kissing?"
Róisín felt as though she needed to add something.
"Yeah, just on the lips." Where else would she think you were kissing? She cringed.
The matron studied her carefully.
"And then you came here."
Róisín nodded.
"I'll bring you a vial of febribus regressus to cool you down. You may rest here for a couple of hours and resume your studies in the evening."
That evening, Róisín met Anna half way up the spiral staircase to Ravenclaw tower.
"Hey, how come you weren't in Charms earlier?" Anna asked.
"Ugh, wait till I tell you..."
"That's so weird," Anna concluded after Róisín had explained what had happened.
"And the strangest thing is that I felt as if it were the kiss that made me sick, as if it weren't just a coincidence," Róisín added.
The staircase ended at a walnut door carved with spirals which moved when you averted your eyes. In the middle of the door was a golden eagle knocker. It opened its beak and asked,
"What flies through the fun but drags through the dull?"
"Time," Anna answered.
The heavy door swung open and they stepped into the Ravenclaw common room. The airiness of the domed room always made an impression after climbing the hundreds of narrow steps to get to Hogwart's highest tower. Tall arched windows gave an almost three-sixty-degree view of the school grounds, and today the September sunshine shone through them making the white marble walls sparkle and the stars in the midnight blue carpet glisten underfoot. The permanent smell of books, ink and candles never failed to make Róisín feel at home.
"The riddles this week are easy, last week I was stuck for twenty minutes until Ida let me in. You know my long division was never really any good," Anna said as she lay beside Róisín on their favourite chaise longue in an alcove with a fireplace.
Eóghan came down the stairs from one of the side turrets jutting off from the main Ravenclaw tower. There were turrets for the boys' and girls' dormitories, and for several tiny libraries which held endless books. The libraries in the turrets had turrets of their own until Róisín was sure their centre of gravity was no longer over the base of the castle.
"Sorry about running off earlier Eóghan, I think I had some weird fever thing," Róisín explained.
"No problem, did Pomfrey sort you oot?"
"Yeah she gave me a potion."
Eóghan sat opposite the girls and gestured to a daily prophet lying on the coffee table between them.
"What do ye think of all this?"
The front cover had printed "Why does Dumbledore hunger for war?" in thick black font accompanied by a moving picture of their headmaster striding confidently through the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
"Well, my parents have always been staunch supporters of Dumbledore, but it's hard to believe that all of the wizarding media and the ministry are conspiring against him, just because Fudge is insecure," Anna said. She was pureblood and had grown up listening to the politics of the wizarding world.
"Never underestimate the lunacy of a powerful, insecure man," Róisín said.
"So, you think Fudge is lying and Dumbledore's not?" Eóghan asked, "that's not a popular opinion these days."
"Would he really pretend you-know-who were back just for a power grab? Surely that plan would break down as soon as people realised he wasn't actually back?" Róisín shrugged and continued sombrely, "I haven't read too much about the previous rise of You-Know-Who, but I get the impression that if he's back, we'll know soon enough."
"Although, all the stuff with Dumbledore and Potter is weird, right?" Anna cut in. "Remember when he was in first year, Potter saved the school from Quirrell, and then from the Basilisk? And last year he won the Triwizard Tournament and faced You-Know-Who again. I grew up believing Dumbledore was the most brilliant wizard in the world, yet we are always saved by the same preteen boy, with Dumbledore nowhere to be seen!"
That night Róisín twisted herself into a knot around her bedsheets as worries swarmed her head like ugly summer flies. She was stressed because she couldn't sleep, even though Eóghan, Anna and herself had stayed up late discussing the public feud between Dumbledore and Fudge. The magic she performed in class had become erratic, which was unsettling because she was usually a precise witch and excellent student. The other day Professor Flitwick had presented each of them with a life-sized statue and asked them to charm the statue to dance a basic Waltz. Róisín's statue, however, danced a kind of aggressive and erotic tango with her, even though she had used Flitwick's incantation exactly, or at least she thought she had, maybe she had been distracted. That was another problem; her mind kept wandering to mischievous sexy places at random times throughout the day, and even though she indulged herself in her fantasies before falling asleep most nights, always thinking how lucky the seventh years were to finally get their own bedrooms, she always seemed to wake up the next day just as shamefully lustful. She also had no idea what had happened today with Eóghan. And finally, she was more than a little concerned that the magical world she loved would be ripped apart by an evil mastermind.
A/N: Róisín is from Dublin, so sometimes she uses Irish expressions:
"I'm grand" - Irish people use "grand" for "I'm fine"
"Stop slaggin' me" – to "slag" someone is to make fun of/ tease them