00:00:00 for salazarfuckingslytherin
The classroom was busy, chattering among students as they waited for their professor. This was the quite possibly the one class Lily had been extremely excited for; it’s just like cooking, she assumed, which she loved to do. The bubbly Gryffindor had all her books out, quill on the ready, tapping her foot impatiently as she chatted Severus’ ear off, glancing at her watch every once in a while.
She didn’t even realize the counter was tick tick ticking its way down, growing closer to its finish with every second. She was eleven; What use did she have for soul mates, what use did she have to be constantly checking it every minute? Soul mates happened much later in life, when they were mature enough to happen.
“Silence,” a voice from the back of the class commanded, though really, the word was unnecessary, as the entire class fell silent, in perhaps awe. He walked up to the front, reading roll call, also unnecessary, but perhaps it was to torture them as all the first years sat antsy in their seats, trying not to talk. The red head studied the Professor, Slytherin, was his name, so incredibly old, so magnificent looking. She wondered in an awkward eleven year old way, if that was what angels looked like, because he seemed to be straight from one of her story books.
“Evans,” Lily jumped at her name, green eyes landing on his blue, gazes locking. Lily hissed slightly as a burning sensation shot up her arm and down her spine. Professor Slytherin cocked his eyebrow.
“Here,” she practically squeaked, earning a smirk, rubbing the points of pain on her wrist, blushing as he moved on to the next name. She glanced down, the once black timer now a glowing red, as if it had just been branded.
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