Blackbird Fly
Four
Severus was shocked, amazed, surprised and any synonym of the three. He'd never had people to stand up for him. The other Slytherins never stuck up for him, even though they claimed that he was "important to the cause." It was part of why he still hadn't given them an answer yet; he doubted he could remain undeclared for much longer.
The three sat together, Helene and Severus at the second to last table and Isolde sitting behind them. She approved of the romance that had obviously begun to blossom (at least on Severus's part) and planned to encourage and nourish his crush. Isolde was a watcher; her observational skills were sharp and she had watched him for years. She hadn't seen him take interest in a girl romantically since Evans. Her lip curled derisively. The poor boy had followed her like a lost puppy, and it still wasn't good enough for her, the blind fool.
She glowered through class, unable to pull herself out of the intense darkness within, as Helene and Severus shot sly glances at one another from the corners of their eyes. When the bell rang to end class, she swept out of the classroom without a word to anyone, brooding.
Severus and Helene didn't notice, too wrapped up in one another. There was only one boy who watched her with scrutinizing grey eyes and he followed her while Severus and Helene made their way to Arithmancy.
Helene was incredibly confused at this point. It wasn't that she disliked Severus or Isolde, but there were a few things that just didn't make sense with what she knew.
To begin with, she simply couldn't reconcile Severus with the Snape she knew. She saw kindness and softness in him, as well as a slight streak of optimism or perhaps idealism—two things that she had never associated with Severus Snape. This Snape was young and hearty, his skin like alabaster and his hair silken and inky. His eyes were the root of the biggest difference: the Snape she knew and (on occasion) reviled had defeated eyes while Severus had eyes like opals—there was a fire in them, like embers in the pitch of bleak winter. They meant light, a never-dying hope for the Wizarding World and the world as a whole. They were entrancing. Helene just wished that she hadn't made such a fool of herself.
Nor did she remember any mention of an Isolde being in the Order from anyone, really. She could recall asking Remus about the stranger in the photograph of the first Order of the Phoenix that they had been shown, but Sirius and Snape (as both men had been in the kitchen when they had really gotten a chance to look at it) had begun to argue, and the mysterious stranger had been forgotten in the excitement of the verbal duel.
Could that be her intense new friend, and if so, why was she taboo?
How did she know all of this, you ask?
Helene Fermier did not exist.
Helene is considered by those who study the etymology of names to be the uncorrupted form of Helen; in this case, Helen of Troy, the most beautiful woman in the world. She was married to Menelaus, who was famous for his red hair, but she fell in love with Paris, prince of Troy, who "kidnapped" and married her. Her daughter of legend was called Hermione.
Fermier means farmer in French, just as Granger means farmer in Old English.
Helene Fermier was Hermione Granger, who was now stuck in the past and had no idea how to get back to her time.
To make matters even worse, she was beginning to like Severus Snape in "that way." She had tried to like Ron, Merlin knows she tried to like Ron but it was just so fundamentally wrong, like having a crush on your brother or equally close family member. Now she liked Professor Snape, or rather, Severus Snape, who would one day become the Professor Snape the world knew and loathed. How was that right at all? It was times like this that she wished her life was more boring.
She could have stayed a Muggle, or been Sorted into Hufflepuff . . .
"Helene," Severus said, furrowing his brow. She snapped to attention, coming out of her trance.
"I'm sorry," she replied. "What were you saying?"
"I just wanted to know if you had gone to the Slytherin dungeons yet. I could show you, if you want."
She agreed, and he offered her his arm, ever a gentleman. When Hermione placed a delicate hand on his arm, she was amazed to find it warm and strong, muscular and lean.
Hermione looked up at him to catch him staring at her wistfully. "Severus," she said carefully, "are you okay?"
"What?" he asked dazedly. He looked at Helene again, berating himself for being so careless. "I'm perfectly alright," he said, sounding a little irritated. "Let me show you to our common room."
They made their way down to the labyrinth of dungeons, Hermione trying to work out her own feelings and Severus trying to keep his from being too obvious.
Isolde swept through Hogwarts, robes billowing artfully behind her. She wasn't jealous of the two, quite the opposite. She was just angry and frustrated and hurting and she needed to be alone. She headed toward the forest to be alone, mentally unable to care that she would be ditching Divination; of course, it wasn't really a hard subject to catch up in. She would go to Care of Magical Creatures though, as Professor Kettleburn said that they would be meeting one of the centaurs today.
The boy kept following her, his wand out, ready to protect her if he needed. He watched as she settled herself on a large, flat rock near a small pool, leaving her bag on a nearby stump. She sat on the edge of the rock, skipping a stone across the glossy surface of the water. He came just a little closer, panicking when he stepped on a twig, breaking it.
Isolde whipped around, her blue eyes panicked, but hard. She was wild and dangerous when cornered, feral in her fright. He did the first thing he could think of.
The bushes rustled and she tensed, waiting for it to come. After preparing herself for the worst, it was a pleasant surprise to see a large black dog saunter out of the bushes. It marched straight to her, butting its head into her shoulder. Isolde laughed and began scratching him behind the ears, cooing to him softly. She loved dogs, always had; her parents had made a running joke over her yearly request for a puppy for Christmas.
Isolde moved to pull something out of her bag—a shrunken music case. She restored it to its normal size and opened it to retrieve her beloved guitar. It was covered in band stickers and political slogans and such, all placed with tender care. She tuned it quickly with a deft ear; the dog curled up at her side. She gave him an aimless pat before beginning to play, her fingers dancing across the strings, reminiscent of a tango or some other intimate ballroom dance.
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night; take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise." Her voice was strong, but it still managed to sound fragile somehow. She paused and looked down when the dog rested his head in her lap. She gave him a quick scratch before continuing.
"Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly—into the light of the dark black night." Her voice wavered and shook as she choked back tears. Soldiering on, she sang the next verse, the fingers strumming the guitar turning cold and her face pale.
"Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise." She whispered the last line, emotion restraining her voice, which was normally full and strong; it was clear as fresh water and was chameleonic, able to change with the song she sang. The dog next to her howled mournfully when she finished; she couldn't tell if it was a compliment or an insult. Frankly, she couldn't have cared.
Isolde bowed her head, tears pricking her eyes; it was impossible to hold them back, and however proud it was, she hated to be seen crying. She controlled her emotions, not the other way around. The dog saw her distress and began nuzzling her and licking her face. She pushed him away, laughing through the tears and wrinkling her nose at the dog breath. Affronted, he sat next to her, regal and proud, but he folded when she pressed a kiss on his forehead; Isolde buried her face in his neck to let herself feel wanted and cared about, maybe even loved. It was the best way to make her feel better.
She sat up after a few minutes, composed but holding back, fully in control again. "Thank you, Puppy. I have to go back to class now. Good-bye!"
Sirius Black shifted back into his human form after she left, more confused than ever.