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a/n: so, this is my first story. on this site, at least. and if you could leave a review, telling me how i'm doing, that'd be mighty appriciated. and loved. and you will be worshiped. in a non-creepy way of course. ah, only a couple days until the midnight premier!

So, you know what’s really just an experience you don’t want to go through? Getting the bloody life snogged out of you, while the others around you are staring, and getting ditched immediately afterward, while the others are still staring. Even though some of the more creepy boys eye you up appreciatively afterwards, probably hoping to get some themselves, its really not as fun as it sounds, trust me.

I know your thinking to yourself, “Gee, that sounds delightful, I should try that out some time.” But really, don’t.

Deciding that I no longer wanted to stand there like the idiot I clearly looked like, I slid into the Prefect’s bathroom, figuring I might as well change while I was here. Getting dressed in the compartment while all the guys, not to mention Remus, were in there, didn’t sound too grand right now.

I locked the door behind me, instantly grateful that the bathroom was, for once, decently sized, when you compared them to the rest of the train’s loos {which were about the size of a phone booth}. I took my time slipping on the robes, glad that we didn’t have to start wearing our uniforms until tomorrow.

The awful things were unbearably hot, especially in the start of term. Summer had hardly just ended, and while our wool skirts did wonders keeping us warm in the winter, they weren’t exactly enjoyable while you sat in a stuffy classroom with McGonagall, who could go on and on for hours about how to turn a tortoise into a table lamp, or in the god-forsaken greenhouses, which Professor O’Callaghan insisted on keeping over 100 bloody-fucking degrees to protect his damn man-eating PMSing plants and those deadly-screaming-moldy-babies/plant thingies. {Herbology isn’t my best subject, okay?}

Of course, many girls took this as an advantage to roll their skirts as dangerously high as they could, much to the pleasure of the male population. I was usually above acting like such a slag, but it gets hot in that castle! Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me. Sometimes its nice to feel a little breeze on your tanned legs, even if they were battered and bruised from playing Quidditch all summer.


Once I had my robes on, I slipped my wand in my pocket and reluctantly started to walk back to the compartment. Some butterflies decided to have a little get together in my stomach, which was quite nice and all, except I was getting a little nauseous. Would Remus already be in there? Did the others already know? Was it just a sick joke Sirius had dared him to do?

I was annoyed with myself for even thinking that last one, knowing I wasn’t being fair. Sirius, however much of an insufferable arse he was, knew when not to cross the line. When it came to me, at least. Others, like Chelsea Abbott, for instance, were not so fortunate.

Speaking of which, there’s Little Miss Sunshine as we speak. I giggled into my hand as I walked past Chelsea giving Lily a heated interrogation, asking her to dissect and reason out every single thing Sirius had ever said about her, even if it was just in passing. Merlin, Abbott’s skills would make McGonagall proud. Chelsea could even make Lily Evans squirm. And if that wasn’t a miracle, I didn’t know what was.


Finally I reached our car, and just as I was about to slid open the door and slip inside, hopefully unnoticed, I felt that all-too familiar swirling in my head. Shit. I absolutely hated getting visions. They gave me a feeling Muggles generally associate with car sickness, and I always ended with headaches that ached on for hours and hours on end, especially when the visions were frequent like they had been earlier this morning. Ugh. I already had to sit through dinner with James babbling on and on in my ear about Quidditch  plays, strategies, and Lily. Wasn’t that bad enough already without adding the whole migraine factor?

Groaning, I slipped to the floor, tucking in my knees and trying not to throw up all over the train’s carpet. Thank Merlin the halls were mostly empty, everyone else back in their compartments making sure they were all paced up and ready to go when we reached Hogwarts. Lucky bastards. The buzzing in my head was now getting worse, and I felt the pins-and-needles sensation start to creep up my legs.

Come on, self, let’s just get this over with.

I thought I faintly heard someone call my name, but before I could even figure out who it was, if anyone at all, I slipped out of my own conciseness, entering instead into someone else’s future. With a silent thump, I landed on my bum {quite gracefully}, in what looked like the Great Hall. It seemed somewhat normal, you know, besides my panicked classmates screaming and running for their lives.

I had already Seen this last week, and, well, at least it’s not going to be as nearly as horrific my most recent vision.

Sometimes, the visions weren’t so bad, especially when I was young. Everyone had always been severely disappointed in me, especially my mother, simply because all I could See were happy things, like people getting married, friendships being forged, and wars being ended. Because I could only See positive things, I’d had a somewhat normal childhood, unlike other Seer children. Most of them had developed depression by the age of nine, and preferred to gaze at the stars and search for the Grim, instead of skipping rope and playing friendly matches of neighborhood football. While my mother resented me for having a normal life, my father had savored every second of my happiness. He was the best dad anyone could have ever asked for, and when he died when I was twelve… well, that’s when the visions started to get worse. It was a very dramatic increase at first, with my first horrific vision being the death of my aunt Millie {she was beaten to death with a pipe by Muggle ‘thugs’}. But steadily over time, they began to even themselves out. It went in a sort of pattern: a happy vision, a horrific one, then a funny one, and so forth.

This vision in particular happened to be hilarious, in a morbid sort of a way. While my classmates were incense with their fear of the unknown, I, on the other hand, already had the honor of knowing what was going on. It’d been Peeves’ idea of a back-to-school “prank”, but it had gone disastrously wrong. I was grateful as bloody hell that the Marauders {and therefore Sirius}, had for once, not been involved, meaning I had the pleasure of knowing to avoid the Great Hall this year, at least until after the first years had been sorted.

I laughed as Chelsea and Lily were plummeted in the face by some mashed potatoes, the culprits being the ever-gorgeous Eric Wood and Amos Diggory. While they squealed and tried {unsuccessfully} to retaliate, I kept walking, watching as McGonagall, startled by the ruckus, I suspect, transfigured herself into a cat, only to be scooped up, American football style, and tossed across the room, much to the delight of Professor Dumbledore.

Giggling as the boy who threw her, Fabian Prewett, realized what he had done and promptly ran for his life, I descended up the ancients steps towards the staff table, to get a better view of what was going on. I sat silently in Minnie’s vacant spot, laughter emitting silently from my mouth. I surveyed the Great Hall, food flying in every direction and more appearing on the plates with ever passing second {I, for one, was particularly excited when the kidney-steak pies popped up}, vaguely wondering when I was going to slip back into consciousness.

That was the trouble about visions. They could last seconds, minutes, hours, and, even once, a full day. Another one of my pet peeves was that I often couldn’t exit whatever room or enclosure I was in, leaving me utterly helpless if the vision was dull and boring. It’s not like I could converse with anyone.

Ah, the grievances of being a Seer.

I watched the food fight for a while, laughing appreciatively when someone got hit with a spectacular shot, or a certain teacher was doused with water {ahem, Slughorn}. Just as Arthur Weasley was about to pour a whole goblet of pumpkin juice on Malfoy’s head, Dumbledore stood, his elaborately carved chair scraping loudly against the marble floors, causing everyone in the Hall to freeze in place and turn towards the newly-positioned Headmaster.

“Children,” he said, and though his voice was void of any emotion, I would swear on my life that I saw a slight twinkle in old Dumbly’s eyes, “I see Peeves’ little, ah, surprise, has gotten the best of your childish whims and, ahem, rampant teenage hormones.” I saw some certain red faces emerge from under the tables, their hair messy and lips puffy. Gasping with a mixture of horror and amusement, I saw Lily and Eric were among the shameful.

Before I could witness any punishments, detentions, or verbal reprimands dolled out, though, the chair beneath me was no longer solid, the scene around me turning to mist and within a moment I was falling and spinning, utterly helpless as my Seer body fell through time and space, my human instincts bracing themselves for the inevitable impact…

Suddenly I jolted awake, my eyes fluttering open and apparently shocking whoever had been standing over me.

“Shit!” They swore, just as I heard a head whack against a piece of solid wood. Confused I sat up, instantly regretting it. The sudden movement sent my stomach and eyesight into a whirl, and I prayed to Merlin I wouldn’t throw up. I lowered my head into my lap, and after taking a few deep breaths, I raised my head and looked around.

It was dark, but as my vision adjusted I presumed I was in a dormitory. As the awful smell of the place engulfed me, I guess it belonged to some of the boys. I sat there for a moment, debating whether to panic or not. I mean, I was in a boy’s dorm, a place I’d never been {except for that one time, with Fabian and Molly’s brother Gid… but he graduated last year, so that doesn’t really count anymore, right?}, but, on the other hand, there were Gryffindor banners on the wall, and any good Gryffie boy knew that if he messed with me, he was also messing with four other Marauders, three of which who were very attractive, very brilliant {sorry, Pete}, and all of which who were slightly psycho and more than capable to dole out a good dose of arse beating.

Suddenly, a blonde curly head popped up from the side of the bed, causing me to scream and jump so badly that I rolled off the other side. I’m quite graceful, I know. The curly blonde bloke laughed, and as his features were thrown into sharp relief by the wand I was currently brandishing, I realized it was only Remus.

“Hello, love,” he chuckled, rubbing his head and trying not to eye my wand too apprehensively.

Rolling my eyes I muttered, “Nox,” before tucking the wand back into my robes. Silently he extended a hand, which I reluctantly took. He helped me up in one pull, and I tried not to marvel at his strength too much. Even though I was pissed beyond all hell at him, I couldn’t deny Remus was very attractive, especially after our, little, uh, snog earlier.

So sue me that I think he lips rival those of an angel.

I quickly extracted my hand from his, folded my arms across my chest, and gave him the Look. He must’ve recognized it, because he immediately paled about two shades.

If you get the Look, you know you’re in deep shit.

Hastily he tried to retreat, backing away from me very carefully, as if I were a temperamental lion in the wilderness that he has just extremely ticked off. I raised an eye brow and swiftly beat him to the door, trying to ignore the close proximity of our body’s enough to speak clearly.

“Remus.” He stared back into my no doubt angry eyes, fluttering his eye lashes innocently.

“Yes, dear?” I glared at him, stomping my foot onto his. Hard. He swore and fell over, sprawling onto the floor. What a drama queen. As he howled in pain and rolled around like an injured prey, I stood over him, completely unapologetic.

When he realized his little act wasn’t going to work quite as well on me as it did on James, who had more of a conscience than I, he sat up, sitting Indian style and patting the ground directly in front of him. Reluctantly I sat down, knowing he’d never talk unless we were at the same level.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” I complained, fully aware I was whining like James does when I refuse to indulge any more information about Lily. But I didn’t really care. Remus flashed me a smile, shaking his head at my impatience.

“You had a vision,” he explained slowly, as if that might come as a bit of a shock, and I slapped him on the knee, unamused.

“I could’ve figured that out for myself, thanks Sherlock.” He stared at me in confusion, and I realized he didn’t know who or even what a Sherlock was. “Sorry,” I mumbled, “Muggle reference.” He nodded his head understandingly. We never talked about me being half Muggle. Not that I was ashamed, really, I wasn’t, but because it reminded me of my dad. And being reminded of my dad meant grief. And grief meant Seeing death and misfortune for the next week or so until I calmed down. Remus looked at me sympathetically, taking my hands in his. It felt so natural, almost like a reflex.

“You fainted,” he explained, and I tried in vain to pay attention to what he was saying instead of his fingers, which were currently mindlessly massaging my palms, “I found you, and tried to get through to you before you left,” so I had heard someone call my name, “but you were already gone. I didn’t know what to do so, I, uh,” he withdrew one of his hands to run it through his hair, but quickly, and to my embarrassing relief, returned it, “I picked you up and brought you to the compartment. The guys didn’t know what to do, so James suggested throwing the Cloak over you and taking you back up to the castle with us.” He eyes met mine, trying to determine whether or not to believe him. I did, but only because he was Remus.

“Oh,” I said shortly, glancing around the room, “Where are the others then?” I inquired, trying to avoid Remus’s probing gaze. It was making me slightly uncomfortable.

“They scrambled downstairs, heard there was a gigantic food fight.” I smiled at this, laughing at the memory. Remus noticed, a smile taking over his face, too.

“What so funny?” He teased, and I felt a rush of laughter rise to my lips.

“Come on,” I urged him, standing up quickly and taking his hand in mine, “If we hurry you can still witness McGonagall the cat being kicked around like a hackie sack.” Scrambling for the door, I hardly noticed we were still holding hands.

a/n: so? what cha think? review? i know that it's annoying that i keep asking, i get annoyed too, but i realize how helpful review are and how big of a motivation they can be, so if you can give me some advice or just leave a favorite quote or something it'd be mucho appriciatedo.

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