Disclaimer: - Harry Potter and all related characters, items, and magical spells belong totally and fully to the fantastic JKRowling. This fic is purely made for my personal pleasure and is not meant to offend, ridicule or reduce the wonderful works of Ms Rowling whatsoever.

Ok with that out of the way enjoy!

In the shadows

Chapter 1: - Sleepless nights

Isabeau Navarre didn't consider herself to be a normal eighteen year old; she wasn't like the rest of her peers at Hogwarts. Unlike them Isabeau hated every day she spent at the school, Waking for Isabeau was torture, a torture that was only mildly eased by her many sleepless nights. Isabeau had came to Hogwarts over a year ago when her mother had died and she had been forced to move to England to be closer to her estranged grandparents, neither they nor Isabeau really wanted her to be with them as they had never taken much of an active role in Isabeau's life, but as her only known living relatives neither party had much choice in the matter.

And so it was that a little after her seventeenth birthday Isabeau had been removed from her old school of Beauxbatons and was placed at Hogwarts and into the house of Slytherin. Isabeau didn't like the school or the people in her house and she preferred to sit alone studying or just watching the common room fire, Isabeau's best subject by far at Hogwarts was potions. Knowing that she was good at something had initially helped to ease Isabeau's distress at such a major up evil in her life, but doing potions wasn't the only thing that Isabeau was good at.

Isabeau just lay there as her professor went through the same motions night after night, slowly kissing her neck, nipping and biting at her skin has he tightly held her head with one hand and the other, ice cold, begin to explore. Always the same places, her hair, then moving to her neck and breasts, slowly and forceful needing them in small circles as Isabeau grimaced through the pain and his hands continued their descent down her slim firm form towards her inner thigh.

She barely remembered their first time. It was so long ago now. They had been alone one evening in his cold dungeon classroom mixing up a much needed potion for madam Pomfrey the matron. Each breath they took could be seen in the freezing air and they both leaned close to the cauldrons simmering fire to stay warm, it was then that it had happened, The most innocent of touches, but it soon led to so much more. They started it there and then on the cold hard stone class room floor.

Back then they were both thirsty for each other. They tore and pulled at each other ripping and scratching as instincts took over, it didn't matter that they were teacher and pupil or that he was so much older then her, they both needed something that at that time they were both willing to surrender. But now?

Now it was more of a habit, a different type of instincts like a smoker who takes pleasure in a long awaited fag, or the coffee addict that savours their first cup of the day. But for Isabeau the smoke had soon turned rancid and the coffee grew cold but by now it had become a habit, a grooming that Isabeau was a willing participant in. Each night as he pushed inside of her and he slowly began to moan as he forced himself deeper as he rocked on top of her, Isabeau thought of her old friends at Beauxbatons that she would never see again, or of the happy memories of her mother long ago when she was still alive. It was the day her mother died, Isabeau thought that she too had died. The little bit of her soul that had once made her whole had been buried with her mother and her only real family, the only real person that had ever loved her.

"Stay?" he asked breathlessly as he finally collapsed on her, sweating, exhausted and breathing hard as he grabbed her wrist trying to prevent her from moving. She always left straight afterwards, she didn't love him and so saw no point in staying just to have him engulf her in his arms and hold her tightly whispering sweet nothings in her ears, as he pretended that she was somebody she wasn't, someone who had left him long ago.

"You made your choice sir," Isabeau said courteously as she pulled herself painfully free from him and sat on the edge of her professor's bed pulling her panties on and gathering up her robes before she moved to the door, "You chose your career over her and now we both have to suffer"

"The same time tomorrow?" He asked as she closed the door behind her, She always promised herself she wouldn't return, but every evening she did, she returned again and again simply because through this man she felt connected, connected to a past that her mother had never told her about, about her life at Hogwarts and an old lover.