Wow. I can't really ignore the fact that it's been a month (!) since my last update of this story, but I have been dealing with ridonculous school stuff and massive computer headaches. My laptop, which has everything from this story and others stored on it, completely burnt out and is now in Louisville awaiting the parts it needs for repair and I probably won't see it again for at least another week (sob!). Either way, I may have lost everything I had stored on there, including all of the chapters that I had pre-written for later on in the story. My next update will probably come with the return of my laptop, as writing on the home computer sucks and is too public for my taste. I know where the story is going, not that the ending is anywhere in sight, but mark my words, this story will be completed.

There is also some smut in this chapter and it was my first time writing it, so be gentle, though reviews, as always, are appreciated.

Blackbird Fly

Fifteen

Sirius dragged Isolde into the second floor girls' bathroom three days later, the two of them having just escaped the most frightening Transfiguration class of their lives . . .

Professor McGonagall was nowhere to be seen. A pretty little tabby cat was sitting on her desk, still as a statue. Surprisingly enough, no one had made the connection until Helene gasped, "She's an Animagus!"

Sirius and Isolde had only just arrived at that point, rushing to their table as the bell rang, Isolde smoothing her hair. She smiled at Sirius as he took her hand under the desk before her eyes rested on the cat.

Yelping, she squeezed his hand tightly, panic in her eyes. Confused he looked around the room, closing his eyes and sighing when he saw Professor McGonagall's cat form.

"Sirius, something's happening. I can't control it," Isolde murmured rapidly, her eyes darting around the room.

Professor McGonagall leapt off the desk, transforming back into her usual self as she did so. She approached the table Sirius and Isolde shared, laying a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Miss Chase, is everything all right?"

Severus and Helene noticed the trouble, gathering around their friend, who was pale and seemed dizzy. "Zelda" Severus said tentatively, hugging her gently from her side, "what's wrong?"

"I just—I think I need some air!" She covered her mouth with both hands, running out of the room, Sirius hot on her heels.

The entire room went silent as Professor McGonagall went to her desk and picked up the outline so that she could begin teaching, but even she was startled to hear barking and howling coming from outside the door.

"It's perfectly normal—I should have told you before, though." Sirius ran a hand through his hair as Isolde shivered and sighed. "It takes time to master full control of your Animagus self. Those nicknames we have—Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs—they're not us, they're the Animagus form we have, or in Moony's case, the wolf. Come to think of it, we haven't named yours yet, and we should by tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Your first full moon's tonight, Philomel. We have Moony-sitting duty for the next few days."

Hermione and Severus left Transfiguration, both anxious to begin learning to become Animagi in some special lessons that had been arranged with Professor McGonagall. They were worried about Isolde, especially after her episode in Transfiguration. Knowing her as well as they did, they headed down to the Slytherin dormitories, stopping off for a quick snog every couple of floors, mostly when Filch was around searching for errant students who were out of class.

They made it with only one or two near-slips, using a trick Hermione had learned from her mother. Mrs. Granger had always believed that it didn't matter where you were and whether you were supposed to be there or not, as long as you looked busy and purposeful in whatever it was you were doing. Hermione had used it many a night when she wanted to get some real light reading done; she would hide a book in something that was so utterly dull that no one would question her about it, leaving her in peace.

Severus knocked on Isolde's door sharply, surprised when it was answered by a tousle-haired, yawning Sirius Black.

"'Lo," he mumbled. "Zelda's sleeping."

"Can we see her?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes wide and worried.

"She's tired," Sirius lied, "really, she's exhausted and she's got a long night ahead of her."

"So, we'll see her tomorrow, then?" Severus asked; he kept the suspicion in his mind out of his voice thanks to years of being in Slytherin House. Isolde's words from the night they had found Helene rang in his head: "There's always more than what you know."

\That was certainly true of Helene; he remembered her blatant lies and her half-truths that night of the Ball. Severus hadn't been able to confront her about them since then, but he remembered.

It was true of the Slytherins who called themselves "Death Eaters" and he had no way out of their corner, and no way to be sure that Helene would still love him if he was one of them. He was certain that the whole thing would be over soon, but certainly not to his benefit.

Now he had this to worry about, and if his guess was right, Isolde was in great danger.

His plan hatched, he waited in the Entrance Hall until just before sundown, watching with wide eyes as the Marauders and Isolde snuck out of the castle, heading for the Shrieking Shack.

Severus made to follow them as he drew his cloak around himself, but he was stopped by a soft hand on his shoulder. He turned to snarl at whoever it was, but he was stopped short.

"Professor Dumbledore," he stammered quietly. "I was just—"

The old man smiled kindly. "I know. You have nothing to worry about. She will be safe. Go on into dinner. I believe," he twinkled, "Miss Fermier is waiting for you."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied, sweeping into the Great Hall for a quick dinner. He would find another way out of the castle if he needed to; he had to make sure she was safe.

Meanwhile, he sat across from Helene, filling his plate sulkily.

"What happened, Sev?" she asked quietly, keeping the humor from her voice as she did so. It was nearly impossible to reconcile him with her professor sometimes.

"Nothing," he said petulantly, scowling as he took a bite of potato.

"There's no point in wasting your glare on food that tastes good, Severus."

He looked up sharply. "Right." He blushed and hung his head.

"You need to relax," she decided, smiling. "I'll meet you in your room when you're done eating, and be quick." She leaned across the table to give him a soft kiss before she left abruptly, her hair flying out behind her as she walked briskly.

Hermione went straight for the kitchens, pondering over the miraculous way that food continued to bring them together. The house elves were only too happy to help her (as she knew they would be—she hadn't begun a chapter of SPEW in the past) with her surprise for her pouting boyfriend.

Once she had procured what she needed food-wise, Hermione hustled down to Severus's room, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the Black sisters. She rested the bundle of food on his bed once she got there, raising her wand and pulling her sleeves up to her elbows.

She had some "foolish wand-waving" to do.

Reluctantly, Severus made his way down to the dungeons, wishing he could find out what was going on tonight with Isolde and the Marauders. He knew that it had something to do with the werewolf; he would never understand Isolde's fondness for him.

He opened the door to his room once he got there, stunned at the sight that met his eyes.

Candles lined the room as a fireplace blazed on the wall facing his bed. The bed curtains were tied back, revealing fresh black bed linens sprinkled with red rose petals. A small table waited there too, laden with fresh fruit and what smelled like chocolate fondue. Choked, he looked around the room for Helene, smiling as he saw her leave his closet. She was wearing his bathrobe, clutching the soft, black cloth around her body as she came towards him.

"Happy?"

"Very much so," Severus replied, drawing her to him for a long kiss. It left them both breathless. Once the kiss was broken, Hermione slipped around to his back, unfastening his cloak and hanging it up in his closet. He made himself comfortable as she did so, slipping off his shoes and socks and un-tucking his shirt, reclining on the bed once he was done.

Severus dipped one of the berries into the chocolate once Helene reappeared. She took her place on the bed next to him, closing her eyes as he held the berry to her lips. Helene ate it before she opened her eyes and snuggled closer to him.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head softly.

Helene kissed the join of his shoulder and neck, her lips tracing up his neck and down his jaw. "I—love—you—too." Each word was punctuated with another kiss until she reached his lips.

Severus Banished the food wordlessly and wandlessly before they kissed again; he relished her soft sighs and whispered moans. Their lips meshed together and their tongues danced dangerously; Severus rolled carefully atop Helene, his hands cradling her face and his arousal pressed into hers. They both moaned when they felt that—the heat. Unable to control himself, he thrust into her, ignoring the cloth that covered them both.

Severus's hands ran down her body as hers began working at his shirt buttons.

"What are you wearing under there?" he whispered.

"Open it and find out," she murmured huskily, her voice mellow and dark.

He rose off of her, kneeling as she pulled herself up and rested against the headboard, smiling lazily. A flash of her creamy skin was visible here and there; she placed his hands over the knot of the robe's sash and met his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes running reverently over her body.

"Please, Severus. Just do it," she whispered, raising his hand to kiss it softly.

"Are you a—"

She interrupted him with a soft, "No. Does that bother you?"

"Not really. I am, though."

"Am I what you want, Severus?"

Instead of answering, or perhaps as an answer, he opened the knot of the robe, uncovering her soft body. Her body was shapely and soft, her skin creamy and beautiful. He ran tender hands over the gentle curve of her stomach and the swells of her breasts.

"Can I see you?" she asked softly, her breath hitching as his hand splayed across her stomach.

He nodded mutely, allowing her to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, watching her pause and trace her fingers over his chest, playing lightly with the sprinkle of black hair running from his belly button to the top of his pants. He sighed as her hands continued to explore, fumbling with his zipper and the button on his pants. Helene carefully brought his pants down, saving his tented boxers for last.

She cupped him gently as he wriggled out of his pants, his eyes fluttering closed. Satisfied, she ran her hands up and cloth-covered length to the waistband of his shorts, her fingers dipping beneath the elastic and into the wiry curls beneath. Just as carefully, just as tenderly, just as reverently as he had done with her robe, she tugged his shorts down and off, pausing when she was done to admire him.

"What is it?" he asked uneasily, thrown off by her careful scrutiny.

"Nothing," she sighed. "I love you, that's all."

"I'm glad." Severus scooped her up and placed her on his stomach, straddling him. Smiling lasciviously, he dipped two fingers into the curls between her legs. Helene shrieked as he found her clit, letting his finger run back and forth and around the slick nub. Her breasts bounced as she took her pleasure and he enjoyed watching the sight of her parted lips and dazed eyes. He raised himself up against the headboard, his mouth and other hand latching onto her breasts and driving her to madness.

Once Helene had regained her senses, she glared at him through narrow eyes as he took the fingers that had brought her to her peak to his lips, drawing them into his mouth slowly, savoring the musk and the taste. Hermione stopped glaring at that, her eyes widening instead. Playfully (though it was quite a shock to her to use the word in reference to him), he used her distraction to his advantage and flipped them over, pinning her to the bed and holding her arms over her head.

"What are you going to do, witch?"

Helene raised her hips against the aching and very neglected hardness, grinding into it until his grip loosened and his face contorted in pleasure; he wouldn't be able to take much more of this blessed torture. He thrust into her again, and she angled her hips, so that, with his next thrust, Severus slid into her. Hermione gasped at the feel of it—he was too big and, despite the loss of her virginity in desperate after-battle sex, she couldn't handle it.

"Stop, please. You're-you're too much. Give me a moment." She closed her eyes and rotated her hips, pulling him into her as he breathed deeply, burrowing his head in her neck. The silence was punctuated by heavy breathing until Hermione finally whispered, "Move, Severus. I can't take it anymore. I want you." She kissed his shoulder as he acquiesced, holding onto her body and kissing her face.

The symphony created by the slapping of skin and harsh breathing and soft groans and throaty moans was heaven to them; they had each other and that was what counted and it was enough. Severus's skin was so alive, so sensitive—he was sure he wouldn't last. He locked eyes with his Helene, searing into her body and soul, possessing her and crying out his dilemma to her in that one look until, just before he lost control, she brought one hand to the place they were joined until they reached the heights together, collapsing, sated and saturated with love, into soft slumber.

Rising the next morning was a surprising luxury. They had woken together before, but it had never been nude and they had never just let go and made love until they were dazed and awake.

Satisfied, Severus pressed a kiss to Helene's temple, whispering, "Hello. I love you." He marveled at how easy, how instinctive he seemed to become around her—like he just knew the right thing to say and do.

Hermione turned over, kissing him lightly and responding in kind, a soft smile on her face. She got up first, stretching as she did so, gloriously nude. He watched from the bed, his hands behind his head and a smirk on his face. Helene got into the clothes she had abandoned the day before in his closet as he watched before she left, blowing him a kiss and promising that she would meet him at breakfast.

Severus got dressed too, though he wanted to make a quick errand that he had long dreamed of making many a lonely night in his single room as visions of busty women and lingerie (on them, of course) danced through his head.

He was going to go to Madame Pomfrey to get the Potion.

Wizarding contraceptives are handled in a rather different fashion than those of Muggles. They are no easier to get, but they are far more effective and have the added benefit of coming in potion or charm form. The trouble with this was that such things were withheld from most students until the seventh year, at which time parents could send a note or (in some cases) a Howler requesting that their son or daughter either have access to the potion on a biweekly basis or the charm, renewed daily.

As much as he loved Helene, Severus was not yet ready for the "joys of fatherhood." Therefore, he was required to take the note he had forged in the beginning of the year, as he refused on point of pride to ask either parent for such a note, to Madam Pomfrey in order to get the male form of the contraceptive potion, though he made a mental reminder to scour the Restricted Section for the formula, as it was not included in the standard potions texts.

A weary looking Madam Pomfrey opened the door, though she brightened a little when she saw Severus, the two of them having developed something of a friendship over the last seven years as a result of the Marauders' teasing and harassing. "Severus, dear," she said briskly, hustling him into the ward, "how have you been? I hardly get to see you. Take a seat on the closest open bed and I'll be with you in a moment."

He obeyed, watching as she scurried out of sight to tend to what sounded like a very much in-pain Lupin—there had been a full moon the night previous. Severus pulled the curtain back from between his bed and the one next to it, surprised by the sight of a huge, shaggy black dog curled around the body of what appeared to be a jackal. The dog had a bandage around its ear and a hind leg while the jackal had heavy gauze covering its torso; the white of the bandage was spotting red as blood blossomed on the thick cloth. His gasp had apparently woken it, as it raised its sandy-gold head, blinking sleepily and yawning, displaying its prominent canines.

He took a step back at the sight of them, which caught the jackal's attention. It smiled (or at least that was what it looked like) and bowed its head, as if asking him for a nice scratch behind the ears. Tentatively, he obliged, reaching out his hand, surprised when the jackal butted at it with its head, smoothing its ears back.

"Hello, there, boy," he whispered, stroking its ear gently. The jackal whined once he'd finished speaking. Severus furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what the jackal was trying to say until it looked at him impatiently.

"Hello, there, girl?" he guessed, laughing a little, albeit nervously, when the jackal nodded. It closed its eyes again, wincing a little when it yawned again. "Poor thing," he murmured, scratching under her chin.

The jackal pulled her head back and licked his hand before laying her head against the black dog and closing her eyes. They flew open again when he said, "That's your mate?"

Surprised, she nodded against the shaggy fur, nuzzling it a little.

"Make sure he takes care of you, 'kay?"

She seemed to chuckle this time, more blood spilling onto the bandage wrapped around her abdomen. He reached a finger toward it, but Madam Pomfrey came bustling back, drawing the curtains with her wand.

"Now, what was it you wanted to see me about, Severus?"

Red-faced, he shoved the note at her, hanging his head as she read it with a mixture of pride and bemusement. She hurried back into her office to retrieve a bottle from the cabinet, slipping a bit of parchment into his hand with it.

"Now, just for you, dear, I've also given you the formula along with the dosing instructions and all that. I figured you'd go off searching for it anyway and, well, you ought to have the good stuff if that's what you're up to." The matron winked at him and gave him a brief hug before she returned to tending to her other patients. It warmed her heart to feel him accepting it properly.

"Madam Pomfrey," he said as he was putting the bottle and the accompanying parchments in his bag, "why are the jackal and the dog here?"

"Erm," Madam Pomfrey replied, her smile fading a little by the sound of her voice, "they're just in need of my help. Don't worry about them; they'll be back on their feet by the end of the day."

He grew even more worried when Isolde wasn't at breakfast. Nor in classes, lunch, classes again, dinner and the Common Room.

For the next three days.

It made Hermione wonder if Isolde Chase was the reason why fate had seen fit to send her back. The thought of it made her nauseous, especially when she considered the fact that she would have to return to a very unpredictable future.

It was logic, pure and simple.