Brighten Up My Hell

Remus had never been an early riser. But on this morning in mid-September, with the full moon approaching, he was bursting with energy. He knew that James, his best friend, put in at least three early morning jogs a week. Running would help the young werewolf to release some of that excess energy. He still felt powerful in the face of the gibbous moon. His senses, already more developed than any human being, were now even sharper. His hearing and sense of smell were so sensitive that they disturbed him during those school days. And since he was in that adolescent phase, he was much more susceptible and... very easily aroused.

Every rustle, every scent, every heartbeat in the misty morning air tugged at his awareness. He was alive in a way that hurt. And he was in that stage when everything stirred too easily. Everything meant something. And lately, everything meant her.

He’d only met her twice. Once in Flourish and Blotts, before term had begun—an odd, magnetic girl who smelled like old parchment and almond bark. The second time, she’d been blowing perfect smoke rings from a cigarette while Narcissa Black leaned against the train window like an ornament. Selena Lestrange had looked up as he passed, her golden eyes locking on his for one unsettling, unbroken second.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

The park surrounding Hogwarts was wrapped in an enchanting, eerie mist, as if it were caught between the waking world and some other realm. Wisps of fog curled around the gnarled roots of the trees, and the scent of damp earth and moss filled the crisp morning air. The grass shimmered with dew, and the distant rustling of unseen creatures only added to the strange stillness.

Only the sound of their rhythmic footsteps and the steady pulse of their breathing broke the silence. It felt almost dreamlike, as if the world had slowed down just for them. But then, Remus caught it—an intoxicating scent, so rich and sweet it nearly made his knees buckle.

Suddenly, he altered his course. His body moved instinctively, his entire being drawn toward that irresistible aroma.

James, breathless, shot him a questioning look. “What’s going on, Moony?”

“Something… I need to find it.”

James smirked, barely dodging a tree root. “Are we hunting something? A rabbit?”

Remus barely heard him. The scent was everywhere now—sweet almonds, warm spice, and something unmistakably wild. It was the kind of scent that lingered on your tongue, the kind that made your pulse quicken. He had to know where it was coming from.

After several frustrating detours through the misty park, a fresh gust of wind carried the scent directly to him. He closed his eyes for a moment, almost lightheaded. Then, just ahead of them, the trees parted, revealing the source of his torment.

Selena Lestrange stood in the clearing, stretching after her run. Her long, toned legs were taut with exertion, her Muggle-style shorts hugging her thighs. Her short-sleeved top clung to her, the damp fabric emphasizing the curve of her waist and the swell of her chest. Beads of sweat glistened on her collarbone, trailing down toward the delicate dip between her breasts. Remus could only dream of being one of those drops.

Her hair was tied back, leaving her neck exposed, her cheeks flushed from the effort. When she turned her head slightly, catching sight of them, there was something in her gaze—an awareness, a quiet confidence that sent a thrill down his spine. She wasn’t prey. She was a predator, and she knew it.

James let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell.”

She didn’t acknowledge them further, merely smirked before resuming her run toward the castle. As she disappeared into the mist, Remus exhaled sharply.

She wasn’t just beautiful. She was dangerous. She was carved from starlight and secrets. And his body, his instincts, his entire being—wanted.

He’d thought he understood desire. He’d been wrong.

*

At breakfast, Selena stabbed her fork into her eggs, her mind wandering back to her morning run. She had never been one to shy away from attention, but the way James Potter and Remus Lupin had looked at her? That was something else. Like she was a puzzle they couldn’t quite figure out—or a particularly delicious dessert they weren’t sure they were allowed to have.

Pandora and Eleanor flanked her at the table, deep in conversation until the arrival of the morning post interrupted them. Selena immediately recognized the elegant, looping script on her letter before even opening it.

Her aunt, Bérénice.

My little Lena,

I trust that by now you have sufficiently shocked your professors, terrorized at least one boy, and broken no fewer than three hearts. If not, you are slacking, ma chérie.

Life here is tragically dull without you. Rosly is practically in mourning, though she pretends otherwise. Also, I regret to inform you that her cooking remains atrocious. (This, however, does wonders for my figure.)

As for your ‘sleep problems’—and really, darling, you must learn to be more subtle—I suggest you find someone you trust. This world is getting darker, and you do not have the luxury of reckless secrets.

I am sending you a box of pistachio magicaroons and your favorite tea to comfort you. Though, let’s be honest, what you need is a scandalous affair. Preferably with someone tall, mysterious, and inconvenient.

With all my love,

Bérénice

Selena snorted, earning a curious look from Pandora. “Your aunt?”

“Yes,” Selena murmured, unfolding the package. “And as usual, she thinks I should be seducing someone.”

Pandora smirked. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

Selena took a sip of her tea, thinking—not about romance, but about how much she missed Bérénice. About how, for all her teasing, her aunt had always been the one person in her family who truly understood her.

*

Professor Flitwick sighed, his small hands clutching the letter from her mother, his expression one of reluctant disappointment. “I’m sorry, Miss Lestrange, but I cannot allow you to use a classroom for dance practice.”

Selena pressed her lips together, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She had expected this answer, but hearing it aloud still stung. “Professor, I promise I wouldn’t be a disruption. I just need space—”

“I understand,” Flitwick interrupted gently, his keen eyes soft with sympathy. “Truly, I do. But the classrooms must remain available for academic purposes, and given the… nature of your practice, there are concerns about safety.”

Selena exhaled sharply through her nose. Safety. As if ballet was a hazardous activity. As if she hadn’t been practicing since she was old enough to walk, as if she weren’t more in control of her body than most dueling students were with a wand.

“And the Great Hall?” she tried. “After hours?”

Flitwick shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The enchantments in place make it difficult to repurpose without proper authorization.”

Selena clenched her jaw. She had known it was a long shot, but still, hope had lingered. Her muscles ached for movement, for the catharsis of repetition, the solace of losing herself in dance. The thought of going months without it made her stomach twist.

“I understand,” she said stiffly, though the words tasted bitter.

The tiny professor studied her for a moment, then offered a small smile. “Perhaps… Quidditch?”

Selena blinked. “Quidditch?”

Flitwick nodded. “It’s not the same, of course, but if you’re looking for a physical outlet, I imagine you’d do well.”

Quidditch. It wasn’t ballet, but it was movement. And movement was what she needed.

She inhaled deeply, rolling her shoulders back. "Thank you, Professor. I’ll think about it."

*

That morning, three young wizards from the House of Snakes had received a letter. A letter that would mark their lives forever. Demeter Mulciber, Rabastan Lestrange, and Regulus Black had been chosen. Next spring, they would bear the Dark Lord’s mark, pledging their loyalty in a ritual as ancient as it was binding.

For Regulus, it was the culmination of everything he had worked toward. He would be the youngest Death Eater in history—a prodigy of darkness. He had spent years honing his skills, mastering Occlumency, preparing himself for this moment. The weight of his family’s honor rested on his shoulders, and he would not falter. Unlike his weak father, he would bring pride back to the House of Black. As he walked with his companions, he caught the glances of Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr., their eyes gleaming with jealousy. It was a heady feeling.

Death Eater. Soon, no one would question him again. Not even his mother.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shift in the air. A presence—familiar, yet radiating a storm of energy so fierce it sent a shiver down his spine. Selena Lestrange.

She stormed past them, her long legs carrying her with purpose, her golden eyes blazing like fire. The usual air of detached amusement she carried was gone, replaced by something untamed, violent.

Rabastan frowned and called out, “Lena—”

“Not now, Rab. Not the time.”

The words were clipped, her tone sharp enough to cut. That only made him more determined. His little sister wasn’t easily shaken—whatever this was, it wasn’t trivial.

He quickened his pace, reaching her side. “What happened?”

She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Oh, you know. The usual. Our loving, considerate parents deciding every moment of my life for me.” She shot him a sidelong glance, her lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? Or have you not sent them your daily report yet?”

Rabastan stiffened. “You think I enjoy spying on you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Her voice was light, mocking, but there was something else beneath it—something brittle, like cracked glass.

He grabbed her arm before she could walk away. Not hard, but firm enough to hold her still. “Selena, stop acting like a child.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

She went utterly still. Then, her hand snapped to her wand so fast Rabastan barely had time to register the movement. The tip pressed against his throat, her golden eyes gleaming with cold fury.

“Lâche-moi. Tout de suite.”

Rabastan hesitated. It was only a second—only the smallest flicker of stubbornness—but that second stretched between them, thick with tension.

Then she sneered, her grip on the wand tightening. “T’es vraiment le digne fils de ton père.”

His breath hitched.

Slowly, his fingers uncurled from her arm.

Selena stepped back, rolling her shoulder as if shaking off his touch. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Her chest was rising and falling quickly, her jaw tight. Then, just as quickly as the fury had come, she smirked. Not a real one—something sharp, aggressive.

“You should be proud, Rab,” she drawled. “You're turning into the perfect little heir. Maybe I should start calling you ‘Monsieur Lestrange’ and bowing every time you enter a room.”

“Selena—” His voice was quieter now, frustrated but laced with something softer.

She didn’t let him finish.

“I don’t need you checking up on me,” she said, flicking imaginary dust off her sleeve. “I don’t need another warden.” Then, with a grin full of teeth, she added, “But I appreciate the concern, big brother.”

Rabastan let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable.” She winked, stepping past him. “Try to have fun at my try-outs tonight. Or don’t. Either way, I’ll be magnificent.”

She strode off, her confidence seemingly intact, but Rabastan knew her too well.

Knew that beneath her bravado, beneath all the jokes and defiance, she was hurting.

And for the first time, he wondered if she would ever be free.

*

On the evening of the Ravenclaw team's try-outs, a large number of students came to fill the bleachers, having heard that the new pupil could take part. Among them were a number of Gryffindors, including Marlene and James, accompanied by Sirius. Peter had preferred to enjoy the tranquillity of an empty dormitory with his girlfriend Daisy. As for Remus and Lily, they simply weren't big fans of Quidditch and rather stayed to play chess in the common room.

As for the Slytherins present: Rabastan, Regulus, and Evan had made the trip, and a small group of first-years had also followed Bastien Rosier, who wanted to support his friend Selena.

James Potter had always loved Quidditch. It was his passion. He was never as delighted as when he was on a broom. Since this year, he had been very proud to take on the role of captain of the Gryffindor team. His team, which he intended to lead to victory for the fifth year running, included two of his best friends: his lifelong friend, the Marauder and seeker Sirius Black, and his best beater, Marlene McKinnon.

When he spotted Little Lestrange on the pitch, he watched her for a moment. She seemed really calm and composed. He had never considered a girl but Lily Evans since his first year, but when he studied the Ravenclaw girl's physique for a moment, he couldn't help admitting that she was really attractive.

The whistle blew, and Selena launched into the air. It was as if she had been born on a broomstick. She didn’t just fly—she commanded the sky, moving with an almost supernatural grace. She took hairpin turns at impossible angles, her body tilting effortlessly with each motion. The enchanted balls zigzagged unpredictably, but she was always a step ahead, her reflexes razor-sharp, her control absolute.

James leaned forward, eyes wide. "Bloody hell. She flies like—"

"Like she's got a death wish?" Sirius supplied, equally captivated.

Marlene let out a low whistle. "No. Like she's got nothing to lose."

Selena executed a breathtaking spiral dive, catching a ball mere inches from the ground before rocketing skyward again. The crowd gasped, then erupted into cheers.

As the final ball shot toward the stands at terrifying speed, James barely had time to flinch before a blur of motion intercepted it. The next thing he knew, Selena was hovering in front of him, her fingers wrapped around the ball—just inches from his face.

She smirked, golden eyes dancing with mischief. “Careful, Potter. I’d hate to ruin that pretty face.”

James exhaled sharply, his heart hammering. For the first time in his life, he was speechless.

Marlene chuckled. “Think she could be any hotter?”

James, still staring at Selena, could only manage a weak, “Merlin help us all.”

As she descended, she felt the rush of adrenaline in her veins. And for the first time in a long while, she felt like she had won something.