Chapter III: Sweets Shopping Gone Sour

    What could be better than predicting a person's future based on the shape of their tea leaves? Violette Montague was a tasseomancy fanatic— she was bound to be, obviously, when her affinities for divination and tea were combined so beautifully. When she was a child, she would watch her mothers drink their cups of tea and coffee and rush towards them to tell them each their fortunes (though Violette's readings weren't nearly as accurate as they are now). Yeah, Violette Montague and tasseomancy went way back, they were good pals!

      Except for right this very second. Violette's brows were furrowed and she was squinting so hard that she was sure to get wrinkles within the hour. As she rotated the tiny teacup, she searched for an image, for a symbol; for anything at all really! She referred back to her book every couple of seconds, sighing as she flipped through its dusty and tattered pages.

      "Hey, Vi?"

      "Quiet!" Violette hissed, not looking up from her book. "I need complete silence to focus."

      "Sure, sure," said Freddy Osborne from the chair across from her, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I think I know what yours means though— I mean, it looks kinda like a blobfish—"

      "I've got it!" Violette interrupted cheerfully. The cup is now completely upside down and the leaves are arranged in a diamond shape. "A kite! So that's. . ." She referred back to her book once more for good measure, "'Your wishes will come true'!"

      "Groovy," he said hazily, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know what to wish for though."

      "New clothes?" Violette suggested. "That's what I usually go for. Though I could use a new Kiln House record. I haven't a clue where mine went, it's like it grew legs and ran away!"

       "Fleetwood Mac?" he asked, and she nodded. "Nice. My mom's so in love with Lindsey Buckingham, it's concerning."

      "She can do so much better," Violette snickered. "Y'know, as much as I adore talking about your mum's love life, I'd like to hear a bit about my own."

      "Oh, yeah," Freddy said, adjusting his posture and holding her cup in his hand. "So, blobfish isn't an option—"

       "Pity."

       "Okay, okay," Freddy said, "there's a square. . . and a triangle. . . it looks kinda like a house. . . oh, shit, it is a house!" He looked over at his book, "It says 'change and success'. Could also mean Ravenclaw winning their next quidditch game."

       Violette focused less on the latter and more on the former. Change and success. It sounded absolutely glorious— but she knew her tasseomancy well enough to look into deeper meanings. Maybe her home life was going to be affected in some way like her mums would finally agree to another cat! Or maybe they'd move out of the cottage (though that didn't seem very likely, considering the fact that they were infatuated  with it). Violette refused to think of any negative outcome because she'd simply rather rip all her hair out than revel in bad energy (and worried terribly about manifesting something bad).

      "Psst," whispered a voice from behind her. "Oi. Montague. Helloooo—"

      A groan escaped Violette's lips as she turned around, "Yes, Sirius?"

      "Just wanted you to know," he said, eyeing both her and Freddy, "that Ravenclaw is going to eat shit at the Saturday's match."

      (He was probably right— Elijah did say that this year's team was particularly awful. So embarrassing!)

      "You've got a lot of nerve saying that," Violette retorted. "Didn't you get rejected at auditions?"

     "It's quidditch, not a bloody musical— they're called tryouts."

     "Right— didn't you get rejected at tryouts?" Violette mocked.

      Across from Sirius was Remus Lupin, snickering. Sirius turned to look at his friend, and though Violette couldn't see his face, she assumed he was giving Remus that famous Black glare. The one where Sirius's perfectly groomed brows furrowed and loomed over his grey eyes like storm clouds.

      "Sorry, mate," Remus chortled. "Go on, defend your honour."

       Sirius turned back to face Violette, "Anyway. When we do beat you, be a dear and make an appearance at the afterparty, will you?"

       The first quidditch afterparty of the year was always a total riot and had oftentimes ended in multiple cases of alcohol poisoning, second-degree burns, drug busts, and everyone embarrassing themselves in some way. Violette was, thankfully, sane enough to avoid getting involved with those sorts of things. She couldn't be caught vomiting firewhisky into a potted plant— she had a reputation to uphold, after all!

      But, of course, she couldn't miss a good party either, so she beamed at Sirius, "Do you think you'll be in a party mood when we beat you, though? It'd be a shame if you cancelled everything after all that planning!"

      "Very funny, Montague," Sirius snorted. "You should be a comedian, y'know."

     Violette would get up to curtsy, naturally, except Professor Trelawney started lecturing the students about what each part of a teacup signifies and how to adjust their interpretations accordingly. With her head perched atop her delicately folded hands, Violette thought back on her fortune. Change and success. But she saw her cup across from her and noticed that there were tea leaves splattered across the sides, symbolising that the 'change and success' in question was going to happen in the near future.

     But just how near? Tomorrow? The day after? A week from now? A month from now? She's itching to do a tarot reading right now; damn you Freddy Osborne and your vague prophecy!

       Once Professor Trelawney finished her speech— consisting of strange arm movements and random shouts— she dismissed the class and Violette was the first one out of her seat. She slung the strap of her bag over her chest, threw her hair over her shoulder, and waved goodbye to Freddy before strutting out the door.

     Tuesdays were notoriously slow. They, like Sundays, were made for lazing around and listening to the Beatles while it rained. And Violette always fit lazing around and Beatles-listening into her Tuesdays like a proper routine.

    She put on her Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band record (it's a first pressing too— cheers mums!) and sunk into her dark blue and bronze bedding. Before getting too comfortable, Violette pulled her sparkly pink quill and ink out of her bag, as well as a brand new pile of letters left at the entrance of Ravenclaw Tower.

      Violette immediately recognised the handwriting from the first letter. Flobberworm wrote back to her, telling her that she's made an appearance at this month's Lonely Hearts Club meeting but was too shy to speak to Violette. But Violette remembered poor Flobberworm sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her fingers and stuffing her mouth with angel cake. Flobberworm's eyes darted from person to person, watching them carefully as they talked freely, perhaps wishing she could do the same.

     On a brighter note, Flobberworm also wrote that she'd taken Violette's advice and. . . (drumroll please). . . it worked! Flobberworm's friend was now her girlfriend and the two of them couldn't be happier. Reading that made Violette swell with pride; she couldn't believe all the good she's been doing! First Flobberworm, then Poppy Lovett, then Jane? Merlin, she really was a saint!

      Violette jotted down a quick and sweet reply to Flobberworm, and opened the next letter. This person only wrote in capital letters, but not in a way that makes them seem like they're yelling, but instead exclaiming. And cheerfully, at that. They'd written two and a half rolls of parchment— longer than any letter Violette's ever received— and seem to have even more left to say afterwards. But what really stuck out to her is the ending:

     ANYWAY, THAT'S ALL THE BACKGROUND INFORMATION TO GET YOU CAUGHT UP AND THAT. I'M GETTING DESPERATE, IT'S BEEN YEARS AND NOTHING'S HAPPENING. LIKE, NOTHING'S NOT HAPPENING, BUT NOTHING BIG ENOUGH IS HAPPENING, Y'KNOW? I WANT TO SAY SOMETHING TO HIM BUT HE'S SO SHY I'M WORRIED HE'LL GET UNCOMFORTABLE OR SOMETHING. PLEASE TELL ME WHAT TO DO. AGAIN I'M GETTING DESPERATE AND I THINK EVERYONE ELSE CAN TELL. APPRECIATE IT.

CHEERS,
PRONGS X

     Violette tapped her quill against her cheek to the tune of Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds as she thought up a helpful enough response. She scribbled words onto a clean piece of parchment but scratched them out almost immediately after. This Prongs's situation is much different than Flobberworm's, although they were both hopelessly in love with their friends. Not to mention Prongs had mentioned how desperate he was about seven times throughout the letter, and if it was this obvious to Violette, she wondered how obvious it is to Prongs's crush!

      Finally, she got it, and started writing on a brand new piece of parchment. The words were flowing out of her like the longest, most wisest, most mature of rivers. She was used to helping out the younger students with their problems, but writing to another seventh year, who was(again) desperate for her help, made her feel so much better about herself and her advice-giving abilities!

     Violette carried on scribbling away, only ever stopping to tuck a stray curl behind her ear or put lipgloss on. And as she was admiring her finished work, sparkly pink ink and all, the stench of sweat and grass filled the air. Oh, any minute now and she might've fainted! She fanned herself as she ran to the window beside her bed, threw it open, then did the same to all the other windows in the dormitory.

     "Alright, Lettie? You look like you're about to spew this morning's pumpkin juice," Elijah said. Violette nodded but refused to open her mouth lest his putrid stink burn off her tastebuds. As he shuffled towards the foot of her bed, Violette threw a random towel under him so the filth of his rancid Quidditch uniform wouldn't contaminate her poor stuffed mooncalf.

     "Have you never heard of a bath?" Violette exclaimed, barely able to contain her gags. "Really, Elijah, do you know how much perfume I'll have to spray to get rid of the smell? You owe me new  Yves Saint Laurent."

     "You're such a drama queen," Elijah snorts. "It's not that bad."

     "It's Aerosmith bad!"

     Elijah smells his armpits and his face scrunches up, "This is the smell of house pride."

     "I no longer believe in house pride. I'm going to have Dumbledore transfer me to Hufflepuff."

     "Hufflepuffs smell way worse!" Elijah exclaimed defensively.

     "I really doubt anything could be worse than this," Violette said, and leaned towards her bedside table to grab her perfume bottle. "Close your mouth, you don't want to inhale this, believe me."

        Elijah rolled his eyes but obeyed, and Violette sprayed his entire body with perfume. Actually, 'sprayed' was an understatement— she dowsed him in it, drowned him in it, attacked him with it, laid siege on him with nothing but the power of her trusty pink bottle! And after she was done, Elijah still smelled a bit like sweat, but in more of an, 'I've been out partying at a billionaire's house all night' sort of way.

     "Happy now?" he asked. Violette smiled, and the room seemed to light up. "The stars and planets have finally aligned! All's right in the world! It's a miracle for the ages!"

     "Hey, you have no right to be annoyed when you're the one that interrupted me!" Violette countered.

       "Whatever."

        "Why are you here anyway? I thought practice didn't end for another hour."

        "You're a wonderful hostess, d'you know that?" Elijah batted his lashes sarcastically. "I left early to deliver some delightful news!"

         "Go on. . ."

         "Well, according to Mary MacDonald," Elijah began, "who's heard from Marlene McKinnon, who's heard from, like, five other Gryffindors— we're getting two new students next week."

         "Oh?"

         "Two new seventh-year students," Elijah specified. It was unusual for someone to transfer to a new school in their final year, but it was rare to have two students do it. "And get this— they're from Beauxbatons."

        Violette's eyes widened and it was almost as if Elijah was reading her mind, because he was nodding vigorously. She raised a brow and he nodded even faster, so much so that his head might've fallen off his neck at any moment.

        "And you think that he. . ."

        "Definitely," Elijah said. "I mean, that's what I heard. I don't know for sure, but—"

        Violette drowned Elijah's voice out with a choir singing angelic music in her head. Actually, it was more like they were all singing every single Paul Anka song at once while red hearts fell from the sky as Violette frolicked around beneath them in a field of roses.  If what Elijah heard was correct, then that time next week, Violette Montague would be in the same vicinity as the Florian Lemieux!

          "I know that look, Lettie, don't you dare," Elijah warned.

          "What look?" Violette said innocently.

          "This look," Elijah said, fingers twirling strands of his dark hair as he stared up at the ceiling with a dreamy smile on his face.

          "I do not look like that."

          "Whatever. You'd better not bother the fit billionaire."

           Violette shrugged and smiled, "Who says it'll be a bother?"

   With the Quidditch match in just two days, the whole school was going absolutely mad. Like, completely bonkers! In fact, after Violette finished answering her letters and left Ravenclaw Tower, the corridors were absolutely flooded. The swarm of students were packed together like sardines, shouting cheers and jeering at one another from each and every direction.

       It was always like this. Athletes could be so intense sometimes, Violette was exhausted just watching them talk about how they're going to destroy each other. As if it wasn't not all some trivial game— they were just throwing balls at each other, for Merlin's sake! Of course, she'd never said any of this to Elijah's face. He would've had an aneurysm. And then maybe a heart attack. And a meltdown. All three would happen simultaneously until he combusted.

       Violette understood them though. She may not be too serious about Quidditch, but she was super serious about other things. Like Fleetwood Mac and flavoured lipgloss and, more recently, helping her new best friend find love!

       Unfortunately, that last one had been giving her a bit of trouble as of late.

        Jane Campbell was all sorts of things; lovely and sweet and thoughtful and incredibly smart, for starters. But she didn't know how to tell the difference between what was good for her, and what was very, very bad. Example one: she was a seventh year and taking a gigantic course load, most of which she didn't even need, but she claimed to love Alchemy too much to give it up! Example two: she was seriously considering Freddy Osborne as potential boyfriend material all because she'd found out they have the same taste in movies and comics? So what!

         The worst part was that Jane's crush was getting bigger and bigger by the minute. The first thing Jane did when she saw Violette was gush about how adorable Freddy was and how he was planning on teaching her how to skateboard, things like that. But Violette had  another idea— a better idea.

        There she was, walking beside Jane who was walking beside Elijah. Yes, that's right— Violette had so carefully and meticulously gotten Elijah and Jane to go on a date! Success! And while third-wheeling wasn't on Violette's list of her top ten favourite hobbies, double dating was.

        Except this wasn't really a double date. At least not one Violette liked being on. Sadly, none of her preferred date candidates were available on short notice, so she had to call in a favor from the irritatingly obnoxious but incredibly hilarious—

     "Oi, Montague! There you are!"

     The dulcet tones of Sirius Black's yell echoed throughout the alleys of Hogsmeade as he ran towards Violette and linked their arms together.

      "What's he doing here?" Elijah hissed.

       "He's—"

       "I'm her date, you pillock," Sirius bit back.

       "Wow, Lettie, your taste's gone down the shitter," Elijah scoffed.

       "Rude!" Violette gasped. "And Sirius isn't my date—"

       "I specifically remember hearing the word 'date'—"

       "Then you're delusional."

       "Aw, our first lover's quarrel!" Sirius exclaimed. "I hate fighting with you, darling. What do you say we kiss and make up?" He puckered his lips dramatically, and leaned in.

       "As if!" Violette screamed as she pushed his face away. "You two can carry on with your little testosterone fest, but Janey and I are going to Honeydukes."

       Violette unlatched her arm from Sirius's and grabbed Jane's hand as the two skipped towards the sweet shop. And when they entered, it was absolute heaven.

            The smell of sugar was everywhere, so sweet and so strong that it was bound to latch onto Violette's dress. She made her way towards the gleaming purple shelf piled with clear containers of various sizes and quantities of pink coconut ice, and grabbed the largest one. Three, in fact, because a girl could never have enough pink coconut ice!

        A new display had been added beside it. A floating, pastel yellow shelf lined with jars containing different herbs and flowers. On the top of each jar, there was a label stating which herbs they contained and what their uses were. Apparently, they were good for everything— tea, baths, and even rolling them up and smoking them! Violette gravitated towards the one with a purple label, marked in giant, pink letters: L-O-V-E! For all matters of the heart. A draught of this will bring love your way!

       Of course, that meant that Violette just had to try it. It wasn't like she needed something to help her find love, but maybe she could use it to help those less fortunate than herself! Besides, it contained all her favourite things: rose petals, chamomile, jasmine, pink salt, cinnamon, rosemary, and even little ground up pieces of rose quartz! It was practically calling her name, so she obliged it and took a jar off the shelf.

            Behind her, Jane had two shopping bags hung on each arm and she was stuffing them full of every sweet she could get her hands on. Her parents were extremely strict, she'd said, and they'd never let her have anything containing sugar or any sort of preservative. Violette felt for her, really, those sorts of muggles were always so strung up and uppity. She couldn't imagine that them finding out their daughter was a witch really helped their relationship.

             On the bright side, Jane's parents provided her with a generous monthly allowance to spend on school related things. And Jane, being the genius she is, reused old, mangled textbooks and wonky quills so she hds more to spend on things that really mattered, like cauldron cakes and fudge flies!

              It was lives like Jane's that made Violette extremely grateful for what she had. She couldn't imagine having an intense family that restricted everything she did. Jane's parents didn't even let her listen to David Bowie! Like, the food she could understand, but Bowie? How did they expect her to live? She had to smuggle her records into her room like some criminal, the poor thing!

               All these things just made Violette feel more inclined to make sure Jane had the best year ever. And that started with Violette's favourite four letter word: love.

              Once she and Jane paid for their giant haul of treats, they found Elijah and Sirius outside, still going at it. They were totally going to destroy each other! They were going to kick each other's arse! Whoop-de-fucking-do! Violette heard it all too many times today and she was completely sick of it.

             And then a brilliant idea occurred to her.

             "Shall we stop at Dervish and Banges?" Violette asked them, and they went silent. They nodded and stomped ahead of her, clearly holding themselves back from throwing punches. Violette walked behind them, but Jane was even further behind her, struggling to hold both her bags as they were nearly overflowing. Violette ran to Elijah, tapping him on the shoulder, "Don't you think you should help Jane with her bags? You can't possibly expect her to carry all that in this weather!"

             Elijah said nothing but walked up to Jane. He picked up a couple boxes of chocolate frogs off the ground and held both her bags in hand. Jane gave Violette an ecstatic thumbs up, and Violette winked back. All according to plan.

              "Why didn't you tell me he was going to be here?" Sirius grumbled.

              "What's your problem with him anyway?" Violette asked. "Is quidditch really that serious? Because this whole house rivalry thing is getting super repetitive."

               "He was a dick to James," Sirius responded.

               Violette scoffed, "Like Potter didn't have it coming."

               "Lay off, will you?" Sirius said. "Just because you're up his arse doesn't mean everyone else has to be."

               "Whatever." Violette rolled her eyes. "Try to be civil though, will you? I promise I won't ever make you hang out with him ever again."

              Sirius sighed,  "You owe me, Montague. Big time."

              Violette grinned and kissed his cheek. They walked for another couple of minutes before reaching Dervish and Banges which, unlike Honeydukes, smelled of wood and sweat. It was surprisingly well lit for such a dingy store, and there was a giant, out of tune piano in the middle of the room, playing a piece Violette had never heard before.

              The two boys scurried off in different directions; Sirius towards the broomsticks and Elijah towards a tall shelf of plastic leg guards. Violette and Jane sat down on the piano bench, trying to pass the time. All Violette really wanted was to go to Honeydukes then Madam Puddifoot's, though Elijah has explicitly expressed numerous times that he wouldn't be caught dead there. If he'd tried Madam Puddifoot's lilac and basil tea, he'd be going back for more everyday! Maybe if he and Jane started dating, then he'd be more open to the idea. . . what a dream that would be!

            "How chivalrous is Elijah? Carrying your bags for you like that, he's such a gentleman!" Violette gushed.

           "He's really sweet," Jane agreed. "He said he liked my hair." Jane pointed at the bright yellow bow at the end of her plait with a smile.

           "Of course he does, I bet he's half in love with you already!"

           "Don't get my hopes up," Jane mumbled in embarrassment. "I made a total fool of myself back there, Violette. Do you think he noticed? God, I'm such a clodpate!"

          "Puh-lease," Violette scoffed, "if anything, Elijah's the clodpate! Trust me, there's not a thing in the world you could say that would make him think less of you. Elijah's as lovely as they come!"

         It seemed that Violette had a habit of speaking too soon. The words left her mouth and then a loud BANG! echoed out shortly after. Right in front of the broom care section, Elijah had the neck of Sirius's shirt balled up in his scratched-up fists. Brooms had been knocked off their shelves, jerseys were torn away from their hangers, and the two boys were shouting angry curses at each other as the poor old shop owner tried to make them leave.

         When Violette tried to stop them, Elijah was already on his way out and dragging Sirius with him. Outside, the two of them threw punches at each other, lunging like wolves. A small crowd began to form while Violette begged them to stop. What was she going to do, get in between them? Nobody else could be bothered to do anything beside cheer.

         Sirius's nose was bleeding profusely when he attacked Elijah, knocking him over and stomping on his stomach. The fight could've ended there, but Sirius straddled him and began punching to no end, until there was no difference between his blood and Elijah's.

        "Sirius, stop!" Violette screamed, horrified. He stopped. He leaned over and grabbed his wand, holding it up to Elijah's chin.

        "Do it, rich boy," Elijah spat, red bubbles spilling over his chin. "Do it. Make them proud."

        He was going to do something awful, everyone could tell. Some people closed their eyes, some left, and some cheered even louder. And then more people entered the circle and pulled Sirius away, panting and soaked in red.

        "Peter!" Violette exclaimed, hugging him. He was standing beside her while Remus and James pried Sirius away from watchful eyes.

        "Nothing to see here!" yelled James, shooing the bystanders away. "Go on, fuck off!"

         When the crowd dispersed, Violette ran up to Elijah and kneeled beside him. She tried helping him up but he was too weak to sit; she was surprised he was even conscious. There was so much blood. Everywhere. It made her queasy, but she knew she had to push through it— unlike Jane, who was spewing out fudge flies in the bushes behind them.

         James walked up to the two of them and it was the first time Violette had seen him without his signature smirk, "Sorry about him. Gets worked up sometimes."

         Violette nodded, but she wasn't pleased, "Do you mind taking Jane back to the castle with you? She's not going to be of much help right now."

         James looked at her and winced, but agreed. He walked up to the poor girl, patting her on the back before walking her and Sirius back to the castle. Peter ran behind them, carrying a comically large bottle of water and tissues.

         "Elijah, love, you've got to sit up," Violette said softly.

         "Give me a minute, will you?" he said breathlessly, clutching his ribs in pain.

         "Yeah, the man's just been fucked up, for Merlin's sake," Remus interrupted, standing over the both of them. Violette stood up and grabbed his wrist, dragging him away from Elijah. "You're not going to try anything are you, Montague? Because you should know that I've seen every single Bruce Lee film—"

         "Is this a joke to you?" Violette hissed. "My best friend could've died!"

          "He wouldn't have died," Remus said.

          "Do you see the state of him?" Violette nearly yelled. "He can't move, Remus! He can hardly breathe, and you don't even care!"

           "It's not like he was completely innocent," Remus snapped. "He provoked Sirius and you know it."

           "They've been arguing all bloody day and now it gets physical? Quidditch isn't that fucking monumental, y'know! It's not worth all this!"

           "It's not because of quidditch," Remus shook his head. "Sirius isn't that barbaric. And he's only ever this angry when someone—"

           "When someone what?"

           Remus shrugged, "Not my place to say. We'll just keep them away from each other, yeah?"

           "Fantastic! How'd you know I love to babysit?"

           "I just know you extremely well, Montague," Remus scoffed. He pointed at Elijah, who was still on the ground and groaning, "Did you need help lugging him back to school or what?"

           Before Violette could nod, Remus had already helped Elijah up, placing one of his arms over his shoulders. Remus didn't need Violette's help either, but she walked beside them, holding Elijah's hand as he limped. Every now and then he'd stop to sputter and cough up blood, then he'd wipe off his mouth and grin. The audacity of him to smile like that when he nearly scared Violette to death!

          When they reached the Hospital Wing, they were surprised to see that Sirius wasn't in any of the beds. In fact, it was completely empty. Remus set Elijah down on a clean bed, and rummaged through Madam Pomfrey's cupboards, pulling out a bottle shaped like the top half of a skeleton. He uncapped it and poured the liquid into a cup; it was yellow and smelled rotten, like, way worse than Elijah that morning!

          "What do you think you're doing?" Violette asked Remus as he tried to hand Elijah the cup, which was riddled with smoke, by the way.

          "Relax, it's only Skele-Gro," Remus said. "His ribs are obviously broken, and Poppy's gonna give it to him anyway."

          She nodded, and watched as Elijah downed the whole cup, only to gag intensely after. Remus patted him on the back, not noticing that Elijah was wincing. Once he'd put the Skeleton-Gro bottle back in the cabinet, he made his way towards the door. But Remus was stopped in his tracks once he heard shouting down the hall, and took a couple of steps backwards once the shouts drew nearer.

         "Mr. Lupin!" yelled Professor McGonagall angrily in her, usually soft, lilt, "What is the meaning of this?"

        Professor Flitwick was behind her, panting heavily as he'd tried to match her pace, "Miss. . . Montague. . . what are you. . ."

        "Have some water, Filius," McGonagall said to him, pointing at a pitcher beside an empty bed. She turned back to Remus and Violette with a frown.

        "We can explain," Violette said calmly. "It's total misunderstanding. It's actually quite funny, you see—"

        "You will forgive me, Miss Montague, if I have a difficult time believing that," McGonagall said. "Mr Oakwood look's like he'd had a row with the Whomping Willow!"

        "Would that be a more believable explanation, Professor?" asked Remus. Violette pinched the back of his arm and he jumped, "Ow. I'm just trying to help."

        "With all due respect, Professor," Violette intervened, "Remus and I were just bystanders. And since neither of us were directly involved in the fight, we did nothing wrong!"

         McGonagall sent her a disproving look, "Since neither of you are willing to tell us what happened, I'm afraid I will have to contact—"

        "No!" Remus and Violette said in unison, leaping forward like they'd just been shot with a jolt of electricity.

      "Professor, you can't tell Elijah's parents," Violette pleaded, then lowered her voice to a whisper, "They'll go ballistic!"

        Professor McGonagall may have been a little strict, but she wasn't cruel. If she had any compassion or humanity or kindness or anything like that in her heart, then she'd listen to Violette and hold off on contacting Elijah's parents. Like, ever.

       McGonagall paused for a moment, then turned to Professor Flitwick, who'd finally regulated his breathing, and said, "Find Madam Pomfrey, will you, Filius? I'm afraid Mr Oakwood needs immediate attention."

       "Is Sirius okay?" Violette asked. She wondered why Remus wasn't the first to ask about his friend.

      "Mr Black is. . . well, he's made a complete recovery," said McGonagall. Remus's hands were tucked behind his back as he whistled. "It looks like Mr Pettigrew's penchant for Herbology has proven itself incredibly valuable."

      She stared at the two of them and Violette's fingers toyed with her hair in nervousness. Remus looked completely fine— how was he alright with any of this? Violette was so sick of his smugness, she wanted to slap him right then and there.

      "I will not contact Mr Oakwood's parents," McGonagall said finally, "nor Mr Black's. But if I catch any of you in a situation like this again, the consequences will be severe. Do you understand?"

       They nodded. Violette felt herself holding her breath until McGonagall left the room— she exhaled heavily after that, and sat at the foot of Elijah's bed. Remus, still standing, stared at his feet awkwardly. The silence was deafening, forming a brick wall between them. Violette grabbed Elijah's hand tightly, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. Then, she heard gentle footsteps against the floor, growing more distant.

"Wait!" Violette called out, running after Remus. His hands were shoved into his trouser pockets as he walked, his back slightly hunched over. Merlin, he had the most awful posture she'd ever seen!

"Thanks for your help," she told him earnestly. "I wouldn't have been able to bring him back here myself."

"Good thing you didn't," Remus said. "He looks like he'd be easy to toss around, but he weighs as much as a tank."

"He can hear you, y'know!"

"Brilliant," Remus said, voice raised. "I almost threw my back out trying to drag him over here. Tell him he owes me chocolate cauldrons when he wakes up."

"How can you be so cavalier about all this?" Violette asked him. Her friends' display of violence shocked her— she'd seen fights before, usually started by Elijah, but none ending as badly as this had. All Remus could do was shrug his shoulders, like he was a broken toy.

"Shit happens," he said simply. "The sooner you accept the fact that you can't control everything, the easier your life becomes."

"Wow, Remus, that was so wise."

"Oh, fuck off."

"No, please, give me more advice, O Wise One!" she exclaimed, pretending to bow down to him. "Guide me, teach me, show me the light, Omniscient One!"

"Are you done?"

"Hark— he speaks!"

"Goodbye, Montague."

Violette feigned a bow once more, and as he walked away, she swore she could see him smile. She ought to tell him to do it more often— she'd never use the word "sweet" to describe Remus Lupin, but in that moment, it was the only word Violette could think of.

         Remus Lupin? Sweet? How odd indeed!

A/N:     i'm sooooo sorry for taking 7000 years to post this it's been in my drafts FOREVER i just forgot to write the ending but WE ARE BAAAAACK! hopefully i shall have more frequent updates bc as much as i love dark themes, it's fun to write silly little love stories <3    Anyway heads up there is a party in the next chapter and the scene i have planned w remus and violette makes me kick my feet and giggle ! ENJOY!