More than you Bargained For
The morning of September first arrived as it always did—far too slowly for some, far too quickly for others. Elizabeth lay cocooned in the warmth of her duvet, only half-aware of the timid knock at her door.
“Lizzie?” came a whisper, soft as the golden light now filtering through her window.
She squinted blearily at her brother, sleep clinging to her like cobwebs.
“Why,” she groaned, dragging herself upright, “must you wake me at such an ungodly hour?”
Henry stood in the doorway, watching her with the patient fondness of an older brother indulging his favorite sibling. She looked like some wayward fairy tangled in a sea of white bedding, her golden hair catching the early morning glow, making her seem almost weightless.
“It’s my last first day at Hogwarts with you,” he said simply. “I wanted to get a head start. Mum’s not feeling well.” He hesitated, glancing away.
Shocking, Elizabeth thought dryly. Their mother never felt well after a night at the pub—especially when she’d been out until three in the morning, forcing Henry to fetch her from the next town over. She’d tried to Apparate and, in her drunken haze, had landed at their old home by mistake.
“I figured it would be just us this morning,” Elizabeth said, studying the way Henry’s expression tightened. She hated that grimace—hated that it was so familiar. “But of course, I’d love some special time with my favorite big brother.” She pouted up at him in exaggerated affection.
“I’m your only big brother,” he reminded her.
“Touche.”
“Try to be ready in an hour. I want to take you to breakfast in Diagon Alley before we catch the train.” He crossed the room and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She exhaled through her nose, watching him go. The guilt had been gnawing at Henry all summer—guilt over leaving, over moving on. Not that she could blame him. Their home was a hellhole, and Hogwarts had always been their refuge. But Henry wasn’t coming back home after his seventh and final year . He’d landed an internship with a team of curse-breakers in Greece and would be traveling for the first few years of his career.
She didn’t begrudge him the escape—far from it. Greece was a long way from their dead father, a long way from the mother who might as well have been, too. By the time he left, she’d be sixteen. Old enough to take care of herself.
Still, the thought of spending another year waiting for the inevitable—that awful, gnawing fear that one day their mother would drink herself into oblivion—felt heavier than ever. Henry had carried that weight since their father died, shielding her for as long as he could. But innocence didn’t last forever.
Downstairs, she could hear him setting the kettle on, lighting the Floo. She slipped out of bed and shed her nightclothes, studying her reflection in the mirror. The baby fat she’d always resented had melted away over the summer. She’d taken up running and biking—anything to keep herself out of the house, out of her head. Her blue eyes, striking against her newly tanned skin, stared back at her, sharper somehow. Would anyone notice?
She had never been the kind of girl to attract attention. Shy, awkward, with wild hair and a childhood spent retreating into books—she had been, to put it kindly, invisible. But she had decided last year that she was done feeling powerless. Henry had spent the summer training her for the Seeker position, putting her through brutal conditioning drills to prepare her for the trials ahead. He was going to be captain this year, and she was determined to be good enough to make the team.
Pulling on a plaid skirt and a snug knit jumper, she ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing the wild waves with a practiced hand. At last, satisfied, she yanked her trunk from the closet and began packing her school things, careful not to make a sound. Their mother’s hangover was a beast best left undisturbed.
Henry was waiting at the bottom of the landing, his wand flicking lazily to levitate her trunk toward the fireplace.
“Here,” he said, handing her a cup of tea.
She took it, sipping in comfortable silence as birds began their dawn chorus outside.
For now, at least, there was peace.
Of course, it couldn’t last. A faint rustling came from behind their mother’s door, the sound of movement so slight it might have been imagined. Elizabeth hesitated, hand tightening around the strap of her satchel. She wasn’t heartless enough to leave without a word.
Lifting a hand, she rapped softly against the wood.
"Come in," came the voice—thin, fragile, like a whisper of someone who had once been much stronger.
Elizabeth and Henry stepped into the dimly lit room, instinctively keeping to the doorway. They let in only a sliver of morning light, as if afraid that too much of it might chase away the shadows their mother seemed to prefer.
Arabella Hastings had once been beautiful. More than that—she had been warm. A wife who laughed, a mother who loved fiercely. But that woman was gone now, leaving behind only this fragile figure perched at the edge of the bed, her back hunched, her face turned away.
“We’re leaving… for school,” Henry murmured. His voice was gentle, careful, as if a single misstep might shatter something delicate.
A faint noise of recognition—a breath, a hum—escaped their mother’s lips. She did not turn. Her hair, once golden, now hung in thin, untended strands over the curve of her shoulder.
Elizabeth swallowed. “Goodbye, Mum.”
It was barely more than a whisper.
For the first time, their mother moved. Not much—just a tilt of the head, a nod.
“Goodbye, my loves.”
Then, as if the effort had been too much, she swayed slightly before sinking down onto the mattress. She did not bother to pull herself fully onto the bed, her feet still dangling over the edge.
Henry closed the door behind them with slow, deliberate care. Neither spoke. They ignored the tight knots in their stomachs, the unspoken truth between them.
It felt more like they were leaving her in a tomb.
With nothing else keeping them there, they stepped into the Floo, tumbling out into The Leaky Cauldron with a swirl of green flames. The morning air was crisp, and the streets were already bustling with students making last-minute purchases for the school year. Henry led the way to a small bakery tucked beside Flourish and Blotts, the scent of fresh bread and warm pastries wafting out as they entered.
They settled into a quiet corner with steaming cups of tea and flaky croissants, the warmth of the bakery a welcome contrast to the cool September morning.
“Excited for fifth year?” Henry asked, tearing a piece of his pastry.
Elizabeth shrugged, brushing crumbs from her jumper. “Yeah, I mean—not particularly excited to kill myself over O.W.L.s, but I’m hopeful. If I make the Quidditch team—” she eyed him warily “—I’ll really have something to look forward to.”
“And who knows!” Henry waggled his eyebrows at her. “Maybe this is the year you actually get a boyfriend.”
Elizabeth snorted, stuffing another bite of croissant into her mouth. “Fat chance.”
“Come on, Lizzie, you’re right fit after all that training this summer. Who knows? You might even catch a certain someone’s attention” he winked as he teased her “I don’t fancy seeing you become part of his ever-changing rotation of girlfriends though”
Sirius Black. Henry didn’t even need to say his name for her to know who he was talking about.
Sirius was one of those infuriatingly gorgeous people who could get away with nearly anything. With his effortless charm and reckless confidence, he had girls tripping over themselves to gain his attention. Henry got along well with him and James, and the two of them absolutely worshipped Henry.
But Henry also knew that Elizabeth had a soft spot for Sirius.
It was stupid, really. Nothing more than the silly, lingering admiration of a second-year girl who had once been saved from a particularly nasty hex.
She could still remember it vividly—the sting of impact as she hit the cold stone floor, the laughter of the Slytherins who had knocked her down. And then, Sirius Black had stepped in, wand drawn, his small 12-year-old voice sharp and unyielding.
“Just ignore them,” he’d said, helping her up. “They pick on anyone they think is weaker than them. But they don’t know there’s a lion inside of us.”
She had mumbled a quiet thank you, her face burning. He had given her a real smile then—not the insufferable smirk that made girls swoon, but something small, something genuine. And then he had winked and dashed off, no doubt off to cause more trouble.
But that had been years ago.
Since then, their interactions had been fleeting.
“Can I borrow a quill?”
“Are you going to eat that?”
“Excuse me, I need to get through.”
She was invisible to him. A quiet, reserved girl with big hair and no inclination for pranks or dramatics. Compared to the girls Sirius actually dated, she was practically a ghost.
Not that she minded.
At least, not much.
“Very cute, Henry,” Elizabeth scoffed, taking a sip of tea. “But I highly doubt Sirius Black would truly want anything to do with me.”
Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t see it yet, but you… you really bloomed this summer, Lizzie.” His voice softened slightly. “It’s a shame I’ve only got this year to set the tone with these stupid boys. Let them know you’re not to be toyed with—or they’ll have me to deal with.”
Elizabeth huffed a laugh, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. He squeezed back, his expression warm but shadowed by something else.
Regret.
“Trust me, Henry,” she said, smiling. “I’ll be fine without you. And if anyone comes after me, I’ll handle them myself. If they need extra encouragement, I’ll remind them that I’m perfectly capable of hexing them into next week.”
At that, Henry let out a bark of laughter. “That’s my girl.”
She grinned, and for a moment, the weight of his impending departure didn't seem so crushing.
Before long, they were weaving through the crowd at King’s Cross. The entrance to Platform 9¾ was just ahead, and Elizabeth could already spot a familiar flash of red hair through the throng of students.
“Oh! There’s Lils,” she said, waving wildly.
Lily Evans spotted her immediately, her green eyes lighting up. She practically sprinted through the crowd, flinging herself at Elizabeth with a squeal.
“Oh, my sweet Lizzie, I’m so glad to see you!” Lily gushed, squeezing her tightly. “I hated that we couldn’t meet up this summer, but thank Merlin for your letters!”
Elizabeth grimaced. She hadn’t left her little hamlet once all break. “Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve made it without your letters, Lils.”
Lily beamed.
“Lily, always a pleasure,” Henry’s deep voice cut through the crowd.
Lily stiffened. She turned to Henry, suddenly a bit flustered. “It’s good to see you too, Henry.”
Henry was tall and broad-shouldered, the result of years spent soaring through the air on a broomstick, dodging Bludgers and snatching the Quaffle with effortless grace. His sandy-blonde hair was almost identical to hers, though perpetually windswept as if he had just dismounted after a particularly grueling match. But it was his eyes—rich, warm brown, like polished amber—that truly set him apart. They gleamed with a mischievous spark, the kind that suggested he was always a step ahead of everyone else, and quite enjoying it. His sharp cheekbones and dazzling smile might have made him seem impossibly perfect, were it not for the slight crook in his nose—an imperfection that somehow made him all the more handsome. And he knew it, of course. Oh, he definitely knew it.
Elizabeth’s eyes flicked between them, her brows raising. Henry was definitely checking out her best friend. Lily was definitely blushing.
“Oi!” Elizabeth whined, pointing between them. “I can’t have my best friend and my brother flirting!”
Lily turned a shade of red that nearly matched her hair, and Henry smirked.
Before Elizabeth could press the matter, a loud voice called out over the station.
“Hastings! We need to talk Quidditch strategy—come sit in our compartment!” A familiar voice called out
Two boys appeared behind Henry, clapping him on the back. Elizabeth’s stomach dropped.
James Potter. Sirius Black.
She felt her face heat up as they overtook their small group.
“Evans! What a surprise!” James called, his face lighting up as he spotted Lily.
Elizabeth had to bite back a laugh. Lily was seething. James Potter was enemy number one in her book—not only because of the way he pined after her like a lovesick puppy, but because of the way he acted like he owed anything he set eyes on. Lizzie found James more charming than harmful, but she had more of a tolerance for it having grown up with Henry, who was cut from the same cloth as the two boys in front of them now.
“Potter, what perfect timing,” Lily snapped. “We were just leaving.”
She grabbed Elizabeth’s arm, ready to drag her away, but the crowd was too thick behind them.
That was when Elizabeth made the mistake of looking up. She instantly let her eyes dart away, but not before she saw Sirius Black’s grey eyes were locked onto hers, first with confusion, then recognition .
“Well, if it isn’t Hastings Junior!” he bellowed, grinning.
Elizabeth whipped her head around to meet his gaze, schooling her expression into something that she hoped didn’t look as nervous as she felt.
“Hello there, Black,” she said coolly.
“I barely recognized you!” James chimed in. “Thought Henry had a new girlfriend for a second. But then I realized—nope! Just Miss Hastings, sans baby fat and much more tan.”
Her stomach twisted slightly. She knew James didn’t mean any harm, but still. Henry popped James on the stomach lightly as to say Oi don’t talk about my baby sister like that!
“I’ve been training for Quidditch,” she said simply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She could still feel Sirius watching her.
“Didn’t know you played” he raised an eyebrow as he scanned her up and down. “You always seemed too good for the rest of us” he did not hide it as he continued to rake his eyes over her body. Lizzie looked anywhere but at him.
“Really Black?!” Lily snapped at Sirius . “You’re such a pig.” He wiggled his eye brows at Lily as she rolled her eyes.
Sirius smirked. “Excuse me, Evans, but I doubt Hastings spent all summer training if she didn’t want anyone to notice.”
He winked.
“We’re not all as arrogant as some, I don’t think about whether anyone notices me at all” Elizabeth felt her face burn, somehow keeping her eyes on him and her face flat. He can’t bother me. Or he can’t know he’s bothering me.
Sirius eyes flashed like she had often seen them do when the quidditch whistle was blown, a prank was afoot, or he was on the trail of a girl he fancied. He liked games, and she had just become one.
“That’s enough,” Henry cut in, voice firm. “That’s my little sister you’re talking about. Anyone who wants to mess with her won’t be making the team.”
James and Sirius exchanged a look before Sirius threw his hands up in mock surrender.
“Relax, Hastings, we’re just having a bit of fun,” he said, grinning. “We’ll stay far, far away from your baby sister.” He pinched Elizabeth’s cheek, and she swatted his hand away with a glare.
“Don’t worry, Henry,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I have absolutely no interest in any of these boys.” She emphasized.
She turned on her heel, tugging Lily with her toward the train, leaving Sirius and James behind in a fit of laughter. She felt a blush rising onto her cheeks as she heard Sirius’s husky barking laugh, trying not to imagine how big his smile spread. She tried to put him out of her mind.
Be realistic Lizzie, he likes girls for what they can do for him and you’re a damaged little girl with nothing to give. Don’t think about how it felt to have his gaze on you like you had wished it would be so many times.
As she climbed aboard, she exhaled deeply, believing what she told herself. She had rules about feelings, stuff them down where no one can find them. She forced herself to focus on the actual task at hand.
She was going back to Hogwarts.
Back to where she didn’t have to be the girl waiting for her mother to self-destruct. Back to where she could be the straight O student, maybe even seeker on the quidditch team. She could have freedom again.
Here, she could just be Elizabeth Hastings.For the moment, she felt this was enough.
Lily led Elizabeth down the train corridor, weaving past clusters of chattering students, until they reached a compartment toward the back.
Severus Snape was already seated, his posture rigid, dark eyes flicking up as they entered. Elizabeth forced her expression into something neutral.
“Severus,” she greeted lightly, keeping her tone even.
“Hastings,” he drawled, but his gaze barely lingered on her before shifting to Lily. She sat beside him easily, already launching into a conversation Elizabeth could tell was a continuation of something they’d discussed all summer.
And just like that, she was on the outside.
Jealousy curled inside her, sharp and sour. She hated herself for feeling it—Lily was her best friend, and Severus was just Severus—but the truth was, while she had spent her summer locked in the house, tending to a mother who barely remembered she existed, he had spent it with her. He had lived in a world Elizabeth could never quite reach.
Elizabeth sat stiffly, listening as they spoke in hushed tones, their conversation peppered with references to places she hadn’t been, things she hadn’t done.
“But if we adjust the potion just slightly, I know it will work better—” Severus was saying, eyes flickering with something that almost looked like excitement.
“Right, but if Slughorn catches wind of it, we’re done for. You know he’d love nothing more than to claim our discovery for himself,” Lily shot back, smirking slightly.
Elizabeth’s fingers clenched in her lap.
This wasn’t her conversation.
“I think I’m going to catch up with Henry,” she said casually, standing.
Lily turned to her, momentarily breaking from Severus’s orbit. “Yeah, of course, Lizzie! I’ve got a prefects’ meeting with Sev in a bit anyway—we’ll catch up after?”
Elizabeth nodded, forcing a smile as Lily squeezed her hand in parting. But the moment her fingers slipped away, Elizabeth felt something heavy settle in her chest.
She didn’t know if she was actually going to find Henry—she just knew she needed to get out of that compartment.
Because she hadn’t told Lily about what happened last year.
And, judging by Severus’s silence, he hadn’t either.
The memory hit her like a curse as she made her way down the corridor.
It had been right before their fourth-year exams, late one evening when she was returning from the library. She’d heard footsteps behind her—hurried, purposeful.
“Hastings.”
She’d turned, gripping her books to her chest. Severus stood a few feet away, his face unusually pale, his expression almost… panicked.
“Severus…?” she hesitated. “What’s up?”
He hesitated, jaw tightening. Then, taking a sharp breath, he said, “I need to tell you something before the end of term.”
She arched a brow, waiting.
“But,” he continued, his voice lowering into its usual drawl, “I don’t want this taken the wrong way. Though I’m sure it will be.”
Her stomach twisted uncomfortably.
Severus Snape didn’t do nervous.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Don’t come around Lily’s this summer.”
Elizabeth blinked. “What?”
He exhaled sharply, pacing in a tight circle. “She would spare your feelings, but I won’t. Your presence wasn’t very welcome last year.”
Elizabeth let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, and I suppose Lily told you that?”
His nostrils flared. “She feels it, even if she won’t say it. She pities you, Hastings. She doesn’t know how to tell you that you don’t belong in her world.”
Elizabeth’s skin prickled. Lily would never say that.
Would she?
A sudden image flashed through her mind—Lily and Severus together, laughing, happy. And then Lily’s voice, quiet, uncertain. I just feel like she gets so sad and left out around us… why doesn’t she know it’s not her fault she isn’t a part of our world?
Her breath caught in her throat.
But—no. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t like Lily.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re in my head,” she realized, the words nearly a whisper.
Severus took a half-step back, but his dark eyes widened in surprise.
Elizabeth’s heart pounded. Legilimency.
His ability was raw but surprisingly trained.
She clenched her fists, sealing off her mind with every ounce of strength she had.
FINE, she spat back at him—not aloud, but in her head.
His eyes widened further.
She turned on her heel and ran.
A sharp lurch of the train jolted Elizabeth back to the present. She stumbled, crashing to the floor of the corridor. A pair of black boots stopped in front of her face.
“Need a hand?” Sirius reached down with a huge grin on his face.
She groaned. Of all the people to see her like this.
She reached up reluctantly, She felt his calloused fingers close around her forearm, rough against her skin—like the lingering sting of a well-placed hex, sharp yet strangely exhilarating. He pulled her up effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing at all, and suddenly, her face was mere inches from his chin. For a fleeting moment—just a heartbeat too long—she stared up at him, caught in the pull of something unspoken. He didn’t seem to mind.
Then, as if realizing himself, his grip loosened. His fingers drifted away, slow and deliberate, though his gaze never wavered. He was still watching her, reading her, waiting for her to give something away of what she might be thinking or feeling.
She turned away.
“Hope you’re more agile on a broom than you are on your feet,” he teased.
Her patience was already thin. “Trust me, I can handle myself on a broom.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I bet you know your way around a broom, Hastings. Merlin knows what you got up to this summer.”
She scoffed, not daring to meet his eyes. If she did, he might see the truth. That she hadn’t gotten up to anything—had never gotten up to anything in her life.
Before she could snap back, another voice cut in.
“Oi, Black.”
Henry.
He stepped out of the compartment Sirius had just exited, arms crossed a playful smirk across his features . “I wasn’t kidding about my sister. Lay off, or you’re not going to be my star Beater this year.”
Elizabeth nearly rolled her eyes.
Henry pointed at Sirius and, with what could only be described as famous last words, said, “She doesn’t want to date a prat like you, and she never will.”
Sirius barked out a laugh.
“Oh, we’ll see about that, mate.”
Elizabeth felt a sinking sense of doom settle in her stomach.
After her spectacularly embarrassing fall, Elizabeth retreated to the quiet of her compartment, Henry following close behind. Lily and Severus were still at their prefect meeting, leaving the space blessedly silent. The two siblings settled into an easy quiet, each lost in their own books, the rhythmic clatter of the train a steady backdrop.
Time slipped away until the sky outside darkened, signaling that it was nearly time to change into their Hogwarts robes.
Henry pulled on his Gryffindor robes for the last time on the train, adjusting the crest absentmindedly.
“Last first day,” Elizabeth murmured as she pulled her own over her head.
Henry smirked. “And the start of your best year yet.”
She rolled her eyes, but deep down, she wished she could believe it.
Once the prefects’ meeting was over, she and Lily met at the front of the train, following the flood of students toward the waiting carriages.
Elizabeth climbed in easily, but when she looked up at the empty space in front of them, her stomach clenched.
She could see Thestrals, like she had every year since their dad died
She knew Henry could too.
Without a word, he reached down and squeezed her hand lightly before helping her into the carriage, his usual easy smile hiding the shadow in his eyes. When he turned to help Lily, Elizabeth watched as her best friend blushed furiously, Henry’s fingers brushing over her hand once, twice—lingering just a fraction too long.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.
Of course her best friend and her brother would start fancying each other.
Not that she hated the idea, necessarily, but—Lily wasn’t the type to be a short term girlfriend, and Henry was about to spend years traveling back and forth to Greece for work. If Elizabeth knew anything about her brother, it’s that he wasn’t going to wait around for Lily to finish school. Their relationship would have an expiration date and she didn’t want that for Lily.
Elizabeth shook her head. You’re being cynical again.
That was why she kept everyone at arm’s length. What was the point of love if it was only going to end?
Henry, on the other hand, had always been the more hopeful one. Even when he had to carry their mother home drunk, whether she was sobbing or laughing hysterically or screaming nonsense into the night, he still managed to smile at Elizabeth when it was over.
She envied him for that.
The sound of running footsteps broke her thoughts.
“Oi! Hastingsingsings!”
Elizabeth barely had time to brace herself before Sirius Black gracefully jumped into the carriage like a dog hopping into truck. .
“What’s the plural of Hastings? Just Hastings?” he continued at breakneck speed, flopping onto the seat beside Henry.
James Potter followed closely behind.
“And Evans!” he announced dramatically, as though they hadn’t been on the same train for hours.
Elizabeth groaned internally as James wedged himself onto the other side of Henry, launching into an immediate discussion about Quidditch.
Remus Lupin entered next, nodding politely to the girls before sliding in next to Lily, who greeted him warmly. Peter Pettigrew was the last to scramble in, looking around nervously before settling beside Remus.
Elizabeth, wedged between Henry and Lily, tried her best to disappear. She’d perfected it over the years—becoming a part of the background, melting into her surroundings, unnoticed and unbothered—
“Elizabeth.”
Her stomach dropped.
She looked up. Sirius was watching her.
“Uh… yes?” she answered dumbly, caught completely off guard.
“We were asking what position you play.” James’s eyes gleamed with something dangerously close to genuine interest.
Elizabeth licked her lips. “Seeker, mainly. But I like playing Chaser, too.”
Sirius tilted his head, considering her. “You’ve got a Seeker’s build, all right.” His voice had shifted slightly, dipping into something almost… flirtatious.
Elizabeth felt her entire face go red.
She wanted to die.
Henry, the traitor, burst out laughing. “Go easy on her, mate! She’s never been noticed by boys before—she’s not used to it. You’re an expert-level flirt, Sirius. She’s not ready for all that.”
Elizabeth let out an undignified noise and smacked both hands over her face, sinking into Lily’s shoulder.
Peeking out between her fingers, she turned to Remus in desperation. “How do you stand living with them?”
He chuckled, hazel eyes glinting with amusement. “You learn to drown them out.”
“Luckily, I won’t have to learn how to,” she muttered.
Remus gave her a look.
“…What?” she asked suspiciously.
“Oh, nothing,” he said lightly. “Just—once these two latch onto someone, it’s hard for them to let go.”
Elizabeth followed his gaze to Sirius and James, who were exchanging brilliantly mischievous glances in her direction.
Her stomach twisted.
She loved and hated the attention.
“I just wanted a quiet year,” she groaned. “Study for my O.W.L.s. Maybe join the Quidditch team. That’s it.”
Lily, ever the realist, gave her a look of pure sympathy.
“You might have gotten more than you bargained for,” she said, and Elizabeth groaned, covering her face again.