Chapter 10
mystery \Mys"ter*y\, n.; pl. Mysteries. [L. mysterium, Gr. fr. one initiated in mysteries; cf. to initiate into the mysteries, fr. to shut the eyes. Cf. Mute, a.] 1. A profound secret; something wholly unknown, or something kept cautiously concealed, and therefore exciting curiosity or wonder; something which has not been or can not be explained; hence, specifically, that which is beyond human comprehension.
We speak the wisdom of God in a mystery. --1 Cor. ii. 7.
If God should please to reveal unto us this great mystery of the Trinity, or some other mysteries in our holy religion, we should not be able to understand them, unless he would bestow on us some new faculties of the mind. --Swift.
2. A kind of secret religious celebration, to which none were admitted except those who had been initiated by certain preparatory ceremonies; -- usually plural; as, the Eleusinian mysteries.
3. pl. The consecrated elements in the Eucharist.
4. Anything artfully made difficult; an enigma.
The weather had been mild at her flat, but here the wind whipped around her, spraying a fine mist into her face, along with sharp strands of her hair. She spat them out and hurried through the gates. There was no time to stand and gaze with romantic longing at the silhouette of the castle against the tormented sky.
Inside the castle, Rebecca shook her head, flinging water droplets everywhere and causing the hood of her cloak to slip down. She quickly pulled it back up. It would have caused a bit of a panic if someone happened along and saw her head floating in the air. It would cause a double panic if it were someone who knew her from her student days; it had not been that long ago that she had graduated.
By the flickering torchlight, Rebecca made her way soundlessly down the corridor. It was a skill she had learned from Severus years ago.
"I can't believe Snape, that stupid-" here a string of harsh words were used to describe Severus, and two boys stepped into view. Rebecca held her breath and flattened herself against the wall.
The second boy grimaced, and added his own thoughts on their Potions Master, concluding with, "I swear, the stupid git had us make Putrid Potions today just so we'd have to clean them up in detention."
Invisible, Rebecca smiled. Severus was still in his classroom. She had been wondering how she would find his quarters, but she knew the way to the potions room well enough.
After the boys had passed her, she moved onward, to Professor Snape's room. Outside the door, she paused, listening. The scratch of a quill, the rustle of parchment, and occasional sigh. Apparently, his students were not doing so well.
She tapped softly and slid the door open, then leaned against the door to close it before unfastening her cloak and letting it slip to the floor. The look of shock on his face when he looked up and saw her standing there would have made supreme blackmail material.
Severus let out a strangled cry and jumped to his feet. "What are you doing here?" he whispered. "Do you want us both killed?"
She frowned. "No. Not both of us. Just you." He sank back into his chair mumbling something inaudible about women's twisted senses of humour.
"I need you to tell me about this ring." She stretched out her hand.
They both stared at it for a moment before he asked, "What about it?"
She moved closer, and leaned against the edge of his desk. "Well, for starters, where did it come from?"
To her surprise, he snickered. "I knew you'd ask me that someday. Have my chair." He gallantly stood and offered her his seat. She sank into it, biting back the remark about chivalry and chauvinism being so similar. "I got it in a muggle thrift store. I don't know why I was there. Something drew me. The ring, I suppose. That's what I've always thought. It's like it was meant for me. I couldn't have been more than six, though, so it may have been just chance."
Rebecca smiled. "So it's either incredibly powerful or absolutely worthless, save for the value we place on it."
"Just so. And since when are you wont to be so poetic? 'Save for the value we place on it'?" Rebecca threw the first thing that came into her hand - a stack of parchment - at his head. He ducked, laughing, and caught her wrists, pinioning her to the chair in which she sat. "You are planning on picking those up for me, aren't you?" he demanded. She replied by kicking him in the shin. Something akin to anger flashed in his eyes, and he pressed her hard against the chair with a kiss. After a moment of struggling to free her hands, she gave up and allowed him to dominate her for a moment.
When the kiss ended, they were both breathless. "Would you like some tea? I can add a few special ingredients." He smiled in a predatory way, and she immediately agreed, and watched as he glided around the room, gathering ingredients, heating a cauldron full of water with a wave of his wand. He looked tired. In her preoccupation with the ring, she had not looked at him closely, but she did now. His cheeks were paler than usual; there were dark circles under his eyes; his normally sleek hair was dishevelled, and his robes looked ruffled. Nevertheless, he moved with a strange grace about the room.
He's really at home here, she realized. Alone in the dungeons with his potions. This is what he lives for. As if he had read her mind, Severus spoke.
"As you can see, I'm well adjusted to my job. I only wish those pathetic excuses for wizards would learn to appreciate potions. The fools think that magic is only what you do with a wand."
"There are all kinds of magic," she agreed, reaching for the tea he offered her, curling her fingers around the warmth of the cup. "For instance, my ring." She explained how it had protected her from Voldemort's crucitus curse.
"I gave you that ring from my heart. It's not a piece of jewellery you wear, but my soul, carved out of silver on your finger. I told you I would protect you from anything and everything. With my life if necessary."
"Stop this morbid talk! We're going to make it through this together. . ." She trailed off, noticing that he was leaning tiredly against his desk. She had never known him to slouch. It seemed a point of personal pride for him always to remain upright, even if he was dying on his feet. "Are you all right?"
He waved his hand dismissively. It reminded her of Lucius, but with a wave, he seemed to dismiss her entirely, not just her words. Severus sighed then, and slid into the chair next to her. His eyes were focused on something beyond the far wall, and his whole body slumped in defeat against hers.
"What's bothering you? Normally I would let you tell me in your own time, but either or both of us might be dead by tomorrow. Tell me."
"That's just it. I joined the Death Eaters to avenge you, and I've ended up putting your life in danger. Then I turned traitor to the Dark Lord and you're in even more danger. It seems everything I do only makes the situation worse." He wrapped an arm around her waist and nuzzled against her hair. "I hate this feeling of helplessness. I hate it."
"You don't have to protect me, Severus. Or avenge me. That's all behind us."
The light in his eyes seemed to go out as he told her "No, it's not. It's only just begun."
