SEA, SWALLOW ME, remus lupin

dhà, the clock strikes twelve

CHAPTER TWO
the clock strikes twelve

                           𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

  IT'S WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES twelve that Cove knows something is wrong.

  Her curtains are drawn firmly shut, blocking out any reminder of the raging storm beyond her dusty window panes — the less she thinks about her family stranded in the murky waters, the better. Pink Floyd's 'The Dark Side Of The Moon' spins in entrancing circles on her record player, a Christmas present from her dad that she'd been wanting for years. A lukewarm cup of tea rests by her hand as she scribbles down her homework onto a bit of parchment, the final milky dregs swirling around at the bottom. Their old cottage creaks dangerously under the influence of the winds that have blown in from the sea, the foundations groaning as the howling tempest picks up with every passing hour.

  Cove's gaze snags on the clock above her doorframe. The hands flick up to twelve, one eclipsing the other. She blearily rubs the exhaustion her eyes, tightening her grip on her quill and scrawling down a few more lines for her Transfiguration essay. She had been hoping to have it done by midnight, but all of a sudden it's two past and she's only halfway finished.

  The caffeine in her tea is hardly enough to keep her going but she abhors the taste of coffee. Remus has been trying to convince her for weeks to no avail. It seems there's really no winning in her whole essay situation, seeing as she'll be knackered either way. At this rate, she might as well forget about the bliss of sleep and persevere until sunrise.

Cove buries her face in the crook of her elbow, groaning in indignation. What on earth would possess McGonagall to darken their holidays with an impossibly long essay? She really has to reevaluate what makes for a good, socially acceptable Christmas present.

It's then that a strange sound murmurs at the window. She practically jumps out of her skin, her heartbeat thundering in her chest with all the passion of a stampeding Hippogriff.

Cove tries to ignore it at first. The house tends to play tricks on her late at night when her imagination begins to invent things. Perhaps it's the sleep deprivation that's bothering her. But she finds it increasingly difficult when the noise persists, an insistent tapping that won't let up.

Goldie shifts anxiously on her perch nearby the windowsill, grunting in alarm as the clicking begins to grow frustrated. She swoops over to land on the corner of Cove's desk with warning signals blaring in her beady little eyes, nervously preening and prodding at her ebony feathers to preoccupy her mind with other thoughts.

Cove frowns, scratching beneath her beak comfortingly. "What is it, lovely?"

Goldie nips at her finger in agitation.

"Ow! Alright, alright," she mutters. A scowl overcomes her concern. "Suit yourself."

Her head snaps in the direction of the window when what sounds like a voice raises to battle the whistling of the wind, fighting to be heard through her windowpanes. She squeaks slightly in fear, getting out of her chair and backing up until her spine presses against her wardrobe.

Cove scans the room for something to defend herself against whatever it is lurking outside. Her eyes zero in on her wand on her beside table and she scrambles across the room to seize it, holding the cedar wood close to her chest like a lifeline. After being raised on stories of Each Uisges and Nuckelavees prowling along their coasts, Cove supposes that you can never be more safe than sorry. Even if it is something, or someone, less supernatural, she'd do better faced with legal consequences than a mild maiming or worst case scenario, death. It's considered self defence, anyways! Maybe the Ministry would just let her off with a slap on the wrist for a bit of excusable underaged magic.  

  Goldie huffs in indignation. She inclines her head toward the source of the strange noise, flapping her wings encouragingly. Cove sticks her tongue out at her.

She creeps up to the window, her heart pounding in her chest as though it were trying to break free from her ribcage. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her feet has her tremoring with anticipation, the hand holding her wand growing shakier by the second. Cove comes to a stop before the window, her breathing now erratic. She finally plucks up the courage to pull back her curtains, wand raised shakily before her.

Her eyes widen in shock at the sight before her, lips falling slightly agape.

"Regulus?"
 

author's note!

i wonder what he's doing here 🤔🤔

this chapter isn't the best and it's dead short but updates have been a bit slower with me back to school (unfortunately) i'm gonna try and get the next one out soon my lovelies 🩷

this hasn't really been proofread either bc i'm knackered so ignore any mistakes lol