if one of them is dead.

chapter four.

Lilith.

Other than the party, everything else is the same as it always is. In the summer when I wasn't able to hang out with my friends or with Mattheo, I was helping Dad move all his shit into the Defense room.

When I found one of those damn pink cat plates I threw it against the wall so hard that we couldn't find half the shards. But it was so fucking worth it.

So, Dad's the new defense teacher.

We have a new Potions teacher.

It's been a few weeks and Professor Slughorn has us seated for the moment while he tells us about how he taught half of our parents. How he taught my father and Parkinson's and Draco's and Blaise's and Crabbe's and Goyle's and everyone's.

Mattheo puts his hand on my thigh while Slughorn keeps talking about Draco's parents.

Then Slughorn turns to Mattheo and goes to say something about how he taught his father and pauses. I cover my mouth because I have to really try not to laugh when Mattheo half smiles at him. Slughorn looks very uncomfortable, and the fact that Mattheo's half smile is making him more uncomfortable is funnier.

"Well, uh, Mr. Riddle, your father was a very gifted student," Slughorn says. Mattheo nods, as if he's really interested. "He was very, very smart. He also- broadened his knowledge on his own."

After a moment of awkward silence, he clears his throat and turns back to the table with the different potions on it. "Okay then, everyone up, we need to start this lesson." We all stand up and stand in a half circle, facing him. "I've gone on talking long enough. The potion you are creating today is going to take a lot of time and effort, so—"

The door opens and Slughorn stops talking. Mattheo and I glance at each other as Potter and Weasley stumble in the room.

"Harry, my boy!" Slughorn exclaims.

I lean up to whisper in Mattheo's ear. "Favorites much?" I whisper and he snickers. Granger glares at me and I shrug as Potter and Weasley grab books and join the group.

Slughorn explains what the different potions on the table are. Lavender Brown stops him before he can continue on. "But, Professor Slughorn," she says, pointing to one of the cauldrons, "You haven't told us what is in that one."

"Ah," Slughorn says, turning to the potions. "This is Amortentia," he says. "Now, does anyone know what—"

He cuts himself off as Granger's hand shoots up in the air and I raise mine slightly.

He nods to me. "The most powerful love potion in the world. Though it is the most powerful, it doesn't create actual love. It is rumored to smell differently to each person according to what they love or are attracted to. It's can cause obsession, which is why is extremely dangerous."

"Correct, Ms. Snape," he says, smiling. "For those reasons, it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room. Would anyone like to smell it? Give a few examples here?"

He nods to Granger and she steps forward, taking a breath of the potion in. "I smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and— Spearmint toothpaste." Her eyes widen slightly and she takes a step back.

"Very good, very good. Ms. Snape, your turn."

I shake my head, but Mattheo pushes me slightly. I glare at him but step forward anyway. I take in a breath. "I smell— expensive cologne, cigarettes—" I shake my head slightly, "— And, uh, and blood." The Gryffindors look at me weirdly, and then a realize who exactly that smells like. I turn back around and glare at Mattheo when he smirks at me.

"Who else? One more person," Slughorn says, and I push Mattheo forward. He turns and glares at me as Slughorn says, "Mr. Riddle! Perfect!" He continues to glare at me as I wave and smirk at him.

He steps forward and takes in a breath. "I smell— perfume, cigarettes, and hair dye."

I start snickering quietly as he comes back over to me with his tongue pressed against the side of his mouth. He's been there one time this summer when I dyed my hair, the other times I was with the others.

Slughorn starts talking about liquid luck and I turn to Mattheo. "I didn't know you felt that way," I whisper sarcastically.

"You smelt me too, you have no room to talk," he whispers back. I hum quietly, earning another glare from Granger.

And then we're off to make Draught of Living Death.

Five minutes in, and Finnegan has already managed to blow it up in his face. Literally.

I hear Potter and Granger bickering, and I'm surprised she's not fighting with Weasley right now.

"How did you manage that?" Mattheo asks as I sprinkle an ingredient in the potion and it starts working better than everyone else's. My book is closed and in my bag. I've made this potion before in fourth year. It was hard as fuck, and Dad was like Gordon Ramsey, but I made it decent.

"Crush, don't cut," I say quietly, starting on the next part of the potion.

"But the instructions say—"

"Mattheo, my dear boyfriend that I care about dearly, my father is Snape. You wanna go there?"

He nods. "Yeah, okay, whatever."

Potter and I had to split the liquid luck.

☯︎︎

"Ms. Snape! Mr. Riddle!"

We're walking down the corridor together, debating about what muggle movie we 'watched' over the summer was. My last comeback was 'We didn't even watch them, you dumbass.'

We both look away from each other and look over at Professor Slughorn. We walk over to him and say our hellos.

He smiles at us, seemingly more warily at Mattheo. "You two are both amazing students, so I would like to invite the two of you to my Slug Club. We are having a small get together tomorrow night. It would be amazing if the two of you could attend."

I nod and say, "Of course we will, Professor. Thank you so much for the invite."

He waves us off and tells us to go to class, so we turn and start back to our next class.

"Of course we will, Professor," Mattheo mocks, shaking his head. "You become a completely different person around teachers."

I glare at him and shake my head, continuing to Defense.

In Defense, I get a wave of deja vu from third year when Dad was subbing in for Lupin. He strides in the room and flicks his wand, closing all the windows.

"Your curriculum last year was utterly terrifying," he says, turning to face us all at the front of the class. "You will forget everything if you have not already. Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four."

I have to smile to myself because I get another wave of deja vu as I pull out my book and start turning the pages.

I'm happy for Dad. He's been wanting this teaching position for years and years, and he finally got it.

And he's a lot happier with this.