Isobel ━ SEVERUS SNAPE

2. Maladaptive tendencies

1994 February 12, Hogwarts
As the days passed, Isobel became more comfortable with her new position. She prepared the lessons carefully, eyed the students while teaching them the most precarious transfiguration spells and observed every doubtful momenta. The students appeared to accept the new professor with welcoming arms, as she held her chin high and shared her thoughts with an unmatched wit and sharpness. Her knowledge became valuable, one that was deeply appreciated by the crowd of teenagers across the castle, as she had already agreed to also assist Professor Lupin with some of his classes too. She welcomed the recognition, although, never once being different from it, keeping her eyes fiercely on her task.

As the moment unfurled, she soared above the courtyard, a free spirit taking flight amidst the wintry wonderland. With keen eyes, she watched as the students scurried about, eagerly venturing forth towards the quaint village of Hogsmeade. She heard the faint whispers of the snow as it crackled underfoot, and savoured the sensation of the crisp breeze gently stroking her feathers. Enchanted by the ethereal scene that lay before her, she beheld the gleaming castle, now transformed into a majestic canvas, cloaked in a glistening blanket of snow.

As she perched atop the wall, basking in the glory of the untamed wilderness and the whims of the weather, she patiently waited for the final stragglers to cross the bridge. The flurry of activity below her was a distant echo, as she lost herself in the serenity of the moment. The passing students caught sight of her and their eyes were drawn skyward, enchanted by the graceful creature that graced their path. Some recognized her and greeted her with a warm smile or a friendly wave, to which she responded with a bow of her head, her gentle acceptance a testament to her effortless elegance.

With a majestic flourish, she extended her wings, taking to the skies once more, soaring through the bridge with a regal grace. As she descended, she gradually shed her avian form, each feather unfurling and retreating, until she stood once more upon the earth, transformed back into her human guise.

She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, getting used to the change, relishing the peace.

"I see, once more, you are in my way, Professor," a frigid, velvety tone intoned from behind, causing Isobel to swivel her gaze towards the imposing figure and lock eyes with the man, unflinching in her resolve.

"I appear to make a habit out of it, Professor Snape," she tattled in response, striding to the side, so he could pass.

"I dare not indulge in such hope," he murmured mockingly under his breath, as he strode forward, bypassing the woman with a sense of urgency, reluctant to engage in any further discourse than what was required. A sidelong glance was all he offered her, brimming with inquisitiveness and wariness, as a torrent of thoughts consumed his mind.

˚·꒷༶✧❁✧༶꒷·˚

As they made their way, a delicate dance of distance played out between them. Snape strode ahead, his figure silhouetted against the winter sky, while Isobel lingered behind, not wanting to invade the sanctity of his personal sphere. The silence between them was a balm, a respite from the chatter and clamour of the world. Each lost in their own agenda, their own thoughts and visions, they moved forward, their steps echoing softly in the frosty air.

For Isobel, the quiet companionship was a welcome reprieve from the demands of social interaction. She savoured the stillness, the chance to be present in the moment without the need for idle conversation simply. The crunch of snow beneath her feet, the faint rustle of Snape's cloak, the distant call of a winter bird - all these things filled her senses, drawing her deeper into the beauty of the world around her.

Snape, for his part, was focused on the journey ahead. His onyx eyes gleamed in the pale light, scanning the path before him with a laser-like intensity. Every step was measured, every calculation precise, as he navigated the wintry landscape with ease. The chill in the air was invigorating, a welcome reminder that he was alive, that perhaps he still had a purpose in this world.