Chapter 9
After what felt like hours of her just sitting in her room talking to Celia about the yule ball, Helene eventually had to make her way to McGonagalls’ office per her request.
Once arriving she gave the door a soft tapping with the back of her knuckles.
“Come in!” The deputy headmistress called from the other side. Helene was hit with a strange sense of deja vu.
“You wanted to see me, Professor?” The younger girl asked once she finally made her way in. She noticed the woman was standing over by her mountainous bookshelf and seemed to have been placing something back in its rightful place.
“Ah yes, Ms. Lestrange, I have a matter I would like to discuss with you. Please have a seat,” McGonagall said, using her hand to gesture to the vacant seat in front of her desk.
“Ms. Lestrange, is it safe to assume that you are aware that a Triwizard tournament is a traditional event that comes with the task of honoring the three schools with the yule ball?” McGonagall asked, skeptically.
“Yes, Professor I am aware,” She was confused about what this had to do with her.
“And seeing as you were raised in the Malfoy manor, I would expect nothing less of Mr. Malfoy to have made sure that you know how to properly dance as well?”
“Yes Professor,” Helene nodded. Of course, she was given private dance lessons since the age of ten, it was expected of her to know how to properly dance at big functions that the Malfoys and many other pure-bloods threw.
“Wonderful, and since your month of detention is soon coming to an end, I would like to discuss what I will be needing you to do for the remainder of your time,” McGonagall said with a stern face that usually meant that she would be taking no objections. “As shameful as it is for me to admit, my house is not as elegant as one would assume. I have taken the liberty to have classes to teach the students how to properly dance at the yule ball, as have the other heads of houses with their own, and seeing as your detentions are based on what I see fit, I have decided that the last few detentions you are to assist me in teaching the students of my house.”
“But Professor,” Helene quickly wanted to object. She wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of spending time with the Gryffindors while having to teach them how to dance. She almost rather go back to grading multiple years' essays than have to do this.
“No buts. I will simply be needing you as a demonstrator for the class and that will be all. I am sure you can manage for that little bit of time,”
“I-”
“The first class will be on Monday and I will expect your attendance, you are dismissed.” Helene who yet again had no room to argue, simply held in her groan until after she had exited the woman's office.
“Why me?” She said to herself, while walking down the hall, a frown etched on her lips. Her mind was lost in the fact that she would have to share a rather close space with a few Gryffindors as a demonstration and pray that they weren’t insufferable.
She had managed to get right to the beginnings of the dungeons when she was yanked to the side and into a dark and dank broom closet.
“What the hell?” She snapped, bringing up her wand and pointing it to her kidnapper.
“Now now, let's not get too rash,” The assailant spoke slowly, bringing their own hand up to clutch Helene’s wrist and bring it down so that it wasn’t pointed in their face.
“Fred?” She asked. She knew who it was the moment she heard his voice
.
“Hello darling,” The short girl cast a quick Lumos to see the culprit's face, and no shock to Helene, there he stood before her, with a wide grin on his ridiculously handsome face.
“What are you thinking, you twat?” Helene glared and shoved his shoulder with the hand not holding her arm.
“I wanted to see you. You’ve been bloody hard to catch today, and I wanted to see how you were after last night, you snuck off without telling anyone,”
“I was tired,” She shrugged.
“Yes, well-” He cut himself off and gave a pointed look to her wand. “Would you mind putting that out? You’re gonna get us caught.”
“Caught? It’s not like we are doing anything we shouldn’t be,” the dark-haired girl shrugged but put out the light anyway. The broom closet was quickly encased in darkness once again, and the visible face of the ginger boy disappeared.
“As I was saying, if you were tired, you should have let me know, I would have liked to have made sure you made it back alright,” Helene couldn't help but feel a little flattered.
“I wasn’t that affected by the drinks Weasley,” She stated blandly.
“Still it was way after curfew and not to toot my own horn but George and I have had our fair share of getting past Filch after curfew,” He chucked.
“Well seeing as I managed without your experienced sneaking about expertise, I think I was okay,”
“So you’ve got your own little sneaking skills then?”
“Oh please, it isn’t that hard really, just takes a little bit of brain power,”
“Very funny,” Fred had stepped closer. Of course, this now meant that he was just barely pressed against Helene, his breath grazing against her temple. “Still I would have preferred to do the gentlemanly thing and walk you back,” His tone had lowered to a very quiet whisper.
“You? Gentlemanly?” She whispered, head slightly tilted back, her face pointed in the direction of his.
“Oh you’d be surprised, you’ll find I can be rather gentlemanly,” He said again, his own face tilting towards her. His breath went from her temple to just barely grazing the tip of her nose.
“And you call kidnapping me gentlemanly?” She teased, and he snorted.
“I didn’t kidnap you, although if it meant I could be this close to you more darling I will definitely have to consider it,” His face inched closer. Helene herself felt her neck strain, her hands suddenly having a mind of their own and resting gently on his chest, while his encased her waist.
“Oh really?” Her voice was almost inaudible but she swore the gulp she took seemed as though it was broadcasted for the world to hear.
“Hmm,” He simply hummed. The sound vibrated through his chest, and Helene clenched at his sweater. “Bloody hell,” He whispered, and almost as fast as she heard those words she felt his lips slam onto hers. His left hand quickly went to her hip to steady her while his other found its way around the side of her neck in a caress, very similar to the night before. Except the difference between then and now was that this kiss seemed to skip over the timid and shy emotions.
Instead, Helene found this kiss to be more rushed, but still earth-shatteringly enjoyable. His lips were pressed firmly to hers, it was as if Fred was thirsty for air and Helene was the only thing to quench that thirst. It was a desperate kiss fueled solely by their emotions. Helene unclenched her hands from his shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck, and Fred brought his right hand down to mirror the one that was placed on her hip. Fred swiped his tongue against her bottom lip and pressed her firmly against him. Helene was now on her tippy toes but her own arms holding him just as tight as she allowed her mouth to open just enough to bring her tongue to meet his, allowing them to entangle together.
“Merlin,” He groaned as they both pulled back to get a bit of air in their lungs before Fred dipped his head again, not letting the Slytherin girl rest too long, but she wasn’t complaining. Instead, she found herself running her fingers through the hair at the back of his head and gave it a little tug, and as a result, the Gryffindor let out a quick deep groan.
When suddenly they both heard what sounded like rushed footsteps slamming down hard enough on the stone floor and it caused them both to jerk back. Hearts were still racing, and their breathing was harsh.
“Bloody hell,” Fred gasped, running his hand through, what Helene could only assume to be, now tousled hair.
Everything suddenly hit her at once. “I’ve got to go,” There she was kissing, no not kissing, making out with Fred Weasley in a bloody broom closet, it was unbecoming of a Slytherin, dare she say the Gryffindors were rubbing off on her more than she would like to admit.
“Leaving so soon?” the ginger-headed boy quipped.
“Fred Weasley, as much as I am sure you are used to snogging in a small damped broom closest I am not rather fond of this or the risk of getting caught,” The girl shook his arm off knowing they both had to leave the closet quickly before they were actually caught.
“Are you accusing me of being some kind of professional broom closet snogger?” He chuckled dryly.
“I am not accusing you of anything,” She stated.
“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that as much as I did,” Fred bit out. Helene wanted to admit that she did in fact enjoy it, but she couldn’t bring herself to.
“I have no clue what you are talking about Weasley,” She teased with a smirk, as she brushed down her shirt and exited the broom closet.
~~~
On the way back to her dorm the girl could not wipe the smile from her face, all she could picture was a certain ginger boy and the smile on his
Making her way back to her dorm room Helene was in high spirits, and she only hoped that her little rondevu with the Weasley boy would certainly not be their last. She rather enjoyed his company, even when he had a way of annoying her in the most childish ways. She couldn’t help the grin that painted her face as she imagined the days that were ahead of the two.
Completely ignoring the stares of her fellow Slytherins as she walked into the common room, she simply made her way upstairs in a lovesick daze. She was rather happy to find that her dorm room had been vacant so that she might process the events that took place in the broom closet. However, her peaceful solitude did not last as long as she would have liked once she realized what was placed on her bed. Laying atop her pillow was an envelope, she was obviously unsure of how it came to be in her room, she was sure she had not received any post that morning, and she was also sure someone would have told her if she had received mail.
Scrunching her eyebrows, she took out her wand and cast a quick enchantment on the parchment to ensure that there were no curses or charms in place that could cause her any harm. Once she had scanned the object, and made sure everything was in the clear, she quickly scooped up the letter. Upon first glance at the front of the envelope, there was no signature, nor any sign of who the letter could have been from, it looked like any other letter she would possibly receive. Once she had given it a thorough inspection, and cast a few spells to see if she would be able to trace a magical signature, it was clear whoever had left the letter did not want to be tracked.
Still rather weary, she flipped over the parchment that she held in her hands. Finally taking a look at the wax seal that was stamped in place. The girl's eyes widened, it was the Malfoy insignia, and if the envelope had found its way into her dorm and not been sent to her through owl and delivered like all the other mail, then it was safe for the girl to assume that the letter was of the utmost importance.
Taking one final glance around to make sure the room was clear, the girl slid into her bed and drew the curtains, while casting a privacy spell, as well as a silencing spell and locking spell that kept the curtains from being opened by anyone but herself. Finally building up the courage, the girl slowly broke the wax seal and opened the envelope, her breath was held the whole time as her hands shook. One would have assumed that unfolding the letter shouldn’t have been such a nerve-wracking task, however, for the young heiress it felt like her whole body was quivering while the air from her lungs was snatched away. Finally, after some time and a mental pep talk, the girl opened the letter she noted that the whole letter was written in French, and began to read.
The first few words knocked whatever remaining breath she had in her lungs straight out. For at the top were the words ‘My Dearest Little Flower,’. Helene’s body was absolutely stone still as she read those words again, not bringing herself to move on quite yet.
‘My Dearest Little Flower,’ She thought in her brain, it was words that she hadn’t called in a very long time, words that meant the world to her. Words that she longed to actually hear spoken to her rather than read them off a page.
‘My Dearest Little Flower,’ She read again as she imagined the voice of an older man, worn with age, but held an air of superiority. The voice of a man who loved her more than life itself, as he used to claim so diligently when she was a child. Imagine the sound of the voice, the tone that was rather deep and base-like but a little scratchy. Closing her eyes, the girl felt tears weld up as she remembered the voice like it was yesterday, even though she hadn’t heard it since she was 3 years old but she remembered it so clearly.
Finally opening her eyes she read the words once more before she decided to finally begin to read the actual letter that she had clutched in her hands rather tightly. Her hands began to tremble and she tried her hardest to will them to stop. Unfortunately for her, it did not work, taking one final big breath in and exhaling she built the courage to keep reading despite the trembling of the paper.
‘My Dearest Little Flower,
As I sit in this cold, forsaken cell, my thoughts are constantly with you. The walls of Azkaban may be strong, but they cannot keep my hope of seeing you again imprisoned. I managed to get this letter to you through the aid of a friend, and I hope it reaches you safely, my child.
I owe you so many apologies, my precious girl. I am deeply sorry for the years we have been apart, for the father I could not be, and for the burdens my choices have placed upon your young shoulders. You deserved a father who could be there for you, guide you, and watch you grow. Instead, I chose a path that led me here, far from your side.
You must understand that my allegiance to the Dark Lord, though unwavering, has cost me dearly. I believed in his vision, in the purity and strength he promised. Yet, it also meant sacrificing my time with you, the most important person in my life. For this, I beg your forgiveness.
However, my sweet Helene, know that my loyalty remains steadfast. The Dark Lord’s cause is just, and our time of triumph will come. I hold onto the hope that when that day arrives, we will be reunited. I will see you very soon, my little flower. Plans are in motion that will bring me back to you, and I dream of the moment I can hold you in my arms once more.
Until that day, stay strong and keep faith. Know that your father loves you more than words can express. You are the light in my darkest days, the hope that keeps me enduring these bleak hours. I cherish every memory of you and hold them close to my heart.
Be proud, Helene. You are a Lestrange, and our bloodline is noble and powerful. Stand tall and remember that your father, despite all, loves you dearly and will never stop fighting to be with you again.
With all my love,
Father’
The girl heard the sound before she felt it. It was rather loud and filled the air around her rather quickly, once her brain dialed back in, she realized the sound she had heard was her. It was the sound of her rather loud sobs, as streams of tears encased her face. Of all the things she expected to read in this letter, the last the she expected as an actual letter written by her father. A man who had been locked away for her whole life, whom she had no communication with since he had been imprisoned for his crimes against another high-ranking wizarding family. Unfortunately for that family, their last interaction with the Lestanges had not been pleasant and had caused them to become clinically insane from what she heard. But as selfish as it sounded Helene did not care what her father did in the past. All she could think about was the letter that was still clutched rather tightly in her fists.
Her father had written her.
He had managed to get a letter through one of the most highly protected prisons in the wizarding world. A prison that was said to be impenetrable and inescapable, though she could assume that the horrid place didn’t live up to its name seeing as the infamous Sirius Black escaped the year prior, and how in her hands she held a letter written by her father.
Helene loved her father, he was the light of her life, and her father shared the same sentiment. After Helene’s mother died in childbirth, her father raised her himself, it was rather untraditional and looked down upon but she was told that Lord Lestrange had cast aside any house-elves and kept the child with him at all times. He was rather protective of the young child, and for the first few years of her life, she heard that the Lestrange man had forgone all assignments sent his way. However, that could only last so long before the dark lord himself demanded the man's attendance and made it very clear that he could no longer avoid his duty as a death eater. To which he resumed his duties for the cause, unfortunately for him, the first task that he started back with had landed him in a lifelong sentence to Azkaban, along with his brother and sister-in-law.
Let it be known Helene didn’t quite care what her father did, she knew it was wrong what he did, and of course, she had wished her father had gone a different route, but it was too late to change the past. It took everything in her to try and process the letter she had just read.
‘I will see you very soon, my little flower’ What could he have possibly meant? He would see her soon?, it made no sense, how did he plan on getting away from Azkaban?, surely the prison would have increased the protection of the prison tenfold after Sirius Black’s escape. But Helene knew that if the estranged Black son could escape then time could only tell who would be next. The girl knew it was wrong to hope that her father did manage to find a way out, she knew that if that were to happen, then something dark and evil was on the horizon and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face the beliefs her family has stood by for many generations.
Suddenly her mind was plagued with other thoughts, ones that centered around a certain ginger-headed boy. What was she to do if the inevitable actually happened? She would obviously be forced to choose sides, the two sides that she hated since she was a young child, and knew of each side's beliefs. What was she to do for the boy? Would she be able to protect him? Would she be forced to take the dark mark like her father and do the dark lord's bidding? How would Fred even look at her then, she knew where his family stood. His family has been fighting for the light for generations, would they have a fighting chance to see through the oncoming darkness that was sure to ruin everything in her path?
Over and over her mind filled with questions about herself, about the Weasley boy, about her future, and what was in store, and she couldn’t help but lay in her bed with her father's letter clutched to her chest as tears streamed down her face.
For she knew that very soon she would have to choose her fate, and it was not going to be a easy choice.