I tried something a little new in this chapter, and I hope you all like it. Thanks for the continually kind reviews (I haven't gotten flamed yet *knock on wood*) and I hope that you keep on telling me how I'm doing. i have officially run out of pre-written stuff that I can use now, so expect an update a week or so, as I'm in school and I don't really have a whole lot of time to devote to this, but life should hopefully calm down soon and that'll mean more posts!
Blackbird Fly
Ten
When Severus and Hermione knocked on Isolde's door, one carrying a huge bowl of pasta and meatballs, the other carrying salad, biscuits and pumpkin juice, they didn't get an answer. Not that they weren't expecting that, they just didn't know what to expect from an angry Isolde Chase.
Severus knocked again, shifting the large bowl of pasta into one arm, balancing it on his shin. Isolde did open the door this time, wearing a pair of too-large men's boxers (red and blue with Spiderman all over them; "My Spidey Senses are tingling" was written across the back over Isolde's bum) and a tight black tank top. She crossed her arms and glowered at them, seeming to usher them in, but before Severus could take a step, she gave them a gleeful smile before slamming the door in his face, nearly tipping the hot pasta into his lap.
Just before the door had fully closed, he slammed himself into it, banging it open again. He crossed to the desk and thrust the bowl of pasta onto it. He then turned to Isolde and crushed her to him, her head buried in his chest, held there by a spidery hand. She struggled, and they heard a muffled, "What the hell are you doing?!" as Isolde tried to yell; his robes got in the way of her mouth. She spat them out as Severus let her go.
"Zelda, I'm so sorry; I just . . . I snapped, okay?"
"It still doesn't give you the right to shout at me for half an hour about who I can and cannot like! Besides, he's been a far better friend to me than either of you two this week!"
"I'm sorry, Isolde. We both are," Hermione said, coming forward and clasping Isolde's hand. "You can forgive us, can't you?"
Isolde gazed at their disconsolate faces and glanced at the meal they had brought.
"Well . . . do you have any garlic bread in there?"
Severus plunged a hand into the pockets of his robes, pulling out a tiny loaf of garlic bread, which he resized and handed to her. She ripped off a piece of it and popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as Severus and Hermione watched with baited breath.
After swallowing, Isolde looked at both of their forlorn faces and ripped three small pieces of parchment and transfigured them into plates. Hermione smiled, relieved, and pulled out serving utensils and silverware as Severus placed the food on the table. Isolde got her record player down and put on some music for the three to listen to as they ate together and talked together, none of them acknowledging the time as they dropped off to sleep, one by one.
Severus's eyes moved under his eyelids as he drifted into REM sleep, the colors swirling in his vision and creating distorted pictures . . .
He was walking, that much he knew. The dust swirled around his feet, dirtying the hemline of his robes as his robes fluttered and billowed
. . . as Hermione watched him walk gracefully down the corridor, hoping to surprise him as he patrolled the corridors; his skills in finding trouble-makers and snogging couples in the future seemed to stem from his days as a Slytherin prefect.
She clutched the robe tighter around herself, ensuring that the nude body underneath was covered before stepping out into the hallway and dropping the robe, feeling the smooth fabric slide down her legs, covering the floor
around his ankles, the heavy wool flying out around him as he strode. A voice called to him from across the grounds, and he saw a dazedly waving Isolde standing dreamily by the lake.
He tried to call her, finding that he had no voice, that he wasn't making any sounds at all. The only thing he could hear was the gentle lapping of water on the misty shores.
Severus reached Isolde and nudged her gently, but she just stood, deadened and dull-witted. Lazily, slowly, as though dragging it through water, she raised a slow arm and gestured to the glass-smooth surface of the water, red eyes gleaming in her pallid face.
He did as she bade him, kneeling in the moist earth, to peer into the water, gasping as he saw
. . . him turn to her, eyes bright in the wand light. She gasped, squirming a little under his scrutiny before he broke into a sudden run, flying at her from the other end of the hallway.
Hermione gasped as he disappeared in mid-step and she called his name, rewarded with the resounding silence in the hallway. An ominous breath landed in her neck, hot against the clammy skin.
Terrified, Hermione turned on her heel, nearly falling when she saw
the face gazing back at him.
His hair was lank and limp and the skin of his face had begun to sag, sallow and pale from all of his time in the dungeons. The hawkish, beaky nose stuck out from his face, a hideous protrusion and his teeth were rotted and yellowed. He watched the face as one would watch a car accident or a train wreck, entranced by the skeletal features and sunken eyes and cheeks.
He managed to tear himself away, choking out a garbled, guttural sound, but still no words. He clasped Isolde's hand, supplicating himself before her. Isolde merely glanced at his hand and his pitiful form kneeling in the mud before slowly retracting her arm and stepping away.
Severus's heart leapt as he saw
Professor Snape's hawkish visage appear in the moonlight streaking through the nearby window. Not her Severus, no; it was her professor, who had apparently been doing his patrols when he stumbled on the naked (for she was now, in both literal and figurative sense) Gryffindor.
She felt his arms snake their way around her waist and his pressed himself into her, his hands playing with the skin on her lower stomach and pelvis. She felt goose-pimples as his nose snuffled into her wild hair as his hands carefully slipped lower, bringing her bum in contact with his tented trousers.
Hermione inhaled sharply as she felt IT, hard against her soft body. Her eyes slipped closed as she heard a breathy whisper in her ear.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Miss Granger. This is hardly behavior becoming of such an exemplary student." He caressed the words, melting them as they spoke, and Hermione felt unstable, as though her poor knees couldn't hold her.
She turned in his arms, pulling his head down to bring him closer to
her fall out of her trance, shaking her head and trembling. He picked himself up, going to her and squeezing her arms; he wanted to hold her, console her, but she wouldn't let him, stepping away again, still shaking her head and beginning to sob quietly, her hands covering her face and her shoulders shaking.
He gently took her hands away from her face, tilting her chin with a gentle finger to see her face. He stepped back voluntarily, taken aback.
Her eyes were shining brightly as bloody tears trailed down ashen cheeks. He felt himself mouth her name as she just stared back at him, the blood drying in red streaks. Isolde opened her mouth, keening a sharp note before coming close and frantically whispering,
"Maybe this is just my way of telling you who my favorite professor is, sir."
He began to ghost feathery kisses along her jaw line, his lips slowly trailing towards her mouth. Hermione claimed his lips, too impatient to wait for him, sighing into the kiss as they met. His fingers traced lazily down her spine, reaching her buttocks and squeezing lasciviously.
Hermione pulled away, a twinkle in her eye.
She opened her mouth, the soft lips parting sinfully, and it seemed to take Severus a moment to realize that she was saying,
"The Gardener's coming to collect."
Alarmed, Severus tried to pin her with a sharp gaze, hoping he could make her explain, but he was distracted by a vision of Helene walking out of the Forbidden Forest, her arms open to him. Relieved, he began to run to her, feeling the ground stretch as he got closer to her, pulling him away. As he got closer, he saw her spin, shrinking and turning rapidly. Severus felt an invisible barrier break as he reached her, grabbing hold of her.
"Helene," he whispered, turning her around.
His eyes bugged out as he realized that his arms were wrapped around a Gryffindor First-Year, who seemed to be terrified of him. It most certainly was Helene, but it certainly wasn't her.
"Professor," she said,
"what do you say to taking this to somewhere less exposed?" She could see him pondering the idea a moment, her mind travelling to delicious places: his quarters, her quarters, his office, his classroom . . .
It was strange, she thought, to have a sex dream about her once least-favorite professor.
She hadn't noticed his eager nod until she was scooped up in his arms, the wool of his robes warming her cold flesh. The rational Hermione was furious off course, but Hermione couldn't hear her, as
her voice sounding far away and blown around by the wind, "what are you doing?"
When he found he could not respond, she tore his arms away from her, bolting off into the distance before he felt the world dissolve away . . .
In another world, he woke up screaming and crying hoarsely.
In another world, she woke up, moaning and mewling softly.
Isolde was woken up by the two of them, wondering what the hell they were dreaming about, and (based on the sounds she was making) wondering if Hermione would spill the juicy details later. She couldn't remember what she dreamt, just remembering a red glow and the acute feeling on loneliness and abandonment.
Professor Dumbledore stood at the podium the next morning to make his usual morning announcements, adding a special note due to the festivities later that day.
"Classes will be cancelled this afternoon in order to give our students a chance to refresh themselves before the Ball tonight as well as to give our professors a chance to decorate the Hall. Dinner will be served buffet-style to each common room at five-thirty; light refreshments will be served at tonight's Masquerade. The Masquerade will begin at eight o'clock and the unveiling will be at midnight. Curfew is at one-thirty; any students caught in violation of this rule face a week of detentions with Mr. Filch. I expect," he said sternly, peering over his glasses at the students, "all students to behave in accordance with the upstanding reputation of his or her respective House and Hogwarts as a whole."
The Trio, as Hermione had taken to calling their little pseudo-clique, barely noted the announcement, as they were busy trying to perk themselves up for the few upcoming classes they had as well as for the festivities. Their bleary eyes would slump closed every so often before they would recover their senses and get a bit more food to keep them awake.
Hermione only had to go to two of her classes, Transfiguration and Arithmancy, as did Severus. Isolde had Transfiguration, Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Once classes were over, they would eat a quick lunch before the girls went off to pamper themselves before the Ball, Hermione having purchased some nice bath things during the Hogsmeade trip. Isolde had a manicure set lying around for them to use. Hermione was looking forward to the girl time; she had never gotten much of it, being that she was best friends with Harry and Ron.
Severus and Hermione looked at Isolde expectantly after the announcement, both eager to set off for Transfiguration; they happened to be firm believers in the idea that if one starts early, one finishes early. Isolde waved them off, watching fondly as Helene took Severus's arm. She finished her breakfast leisurely, savoring each crumb of the lemon poppy seed muffin she had taken from the pile of pastries.
It wasn't long before she felt eyes boring into her back. Turning around, she saw Sirius Black gazing at her, a sheepish smile on his face. Isolde gave him a tiny wave; he responded by blowing her a nearly imperceptible kiss across the Hall. She blushed fiercely as she drained her juice and grabbed her bag, setting off for Transfiguration.