Daedalus rode into Hogwarts in Richard's cloak pocket. ("I hate transfiguring in the winter," he told them. "I get so sluggish. Cold blood, you know.") They set him up in the Vase Room with some blankets and a picnic-style dinner that Mervin got from the house-elves.
The next day was Sunday; right after breakfast, Richard hunted down all of the members and dragged them all off to the Vase Room to meet the man who would help them get into their new headquarters.
The members who knew Dell were delighted to see him; the ones who didn't were quickly impressed with his Animagus ability, and spent several minutes coaxing him to change back and forth.
"The last time I saw you in that form, you were Petrified stiff!" Bruce said with a laugh, as Dell evolved into his human self for the sixth or seventh time.
Daedalus grinned ruefully and shook off the last trace of scales. "I wouldn't remember that," he said. "That whole time, it was just like ... like a really weird dream."
"It was like a nightmare," said Mervin fervently. He had been forced to play the part of Daedalus through Transfiguration, his worst (and Dell's best) subject.
Daedalus laughed. "Richard tells me you need a new headquarters," he said, sitting back down on the low divan that he and Vivian had always occupied.
Melissa nodded her head. "This one's not secure," she said, looking over her shoulder even as she spoke. "We've lost the Ledger and the cauldron that we make the rings out of."
Dell let out a low whistle. "You didn't say the Ledger was gone, Rich."
Richard blushed furiously. "I keep hoping I just dreamt it," he said tightly, head down.
"You'll get it back," Daedalus said, patting him bracingly on the shoulder. "But until then, I'd be happy to help. We'll have the Chamber of Secrets open and serviceable by Tuesday night."
The members exchanged delighted glances as they realized what he'd said.
Melissa wasn't so quick to jump on the bandwagon. "I thought Potter was saying it was all blocked up and things from last time," she said skeptically. "Rockslide or something."
Dell stretched his arms above his head. "It was for a bit. But when Rich and I went down at the end of the year, we cleared the way -- couple of Repelling charms and there was enough space to get through. You'll want to prop up some of the weaker bits, maybe fix it up so that there are stairs rather than that ruddy drainpipe ..."
"And we need to change the password," Richard interrupted. "That's why you're here, Dell. We can't get in without a Parselmouth, and right now the only two we have to choose from are you and Potter."
"What's wrong with just kidnapping Potter?" Daedalus grinned, running a hand through his hair.
Richard gave him a look. "As I keep telling Evan, I'd rather not rely on plots that could get us thrown into Azkaban." Evan smirked from the corner. "Anyway it'd be hard to do on a weekly basis."
"Well, like I said, I'm happy to help," said Daedalus. He stood up and stretched. "Ready?"
A ripple of excitement ran through the members.
"Dell, I've been ready my whole life," said Richard, clapping a hand onto Daedalus's shoulder, and the Society made its way into the halls towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
The lachrymose ghost was nowhere to be found: "Hiding," Melissa guessed, "or sitting about in a drain somewhere."
Daedalus was inspecting the sinks. "Here we are," he said satisfactorily. "I thought I remembered it was this one ..." There was a quick whooshing sound as Daedalus shrank into snake form. Richard picked him up and set him onto the sink, where he reared up and began hissing at a tiny engraved snake on the side of the metal spigot.
The wall began to move.
It was not the smooth grinding and shifting that Beth had seen two years before; this time, the brick moved jerkily, catching in places, to reveal a vast pipe littered with rubble. Potter's landslide, apparently, had taken its toll.
They crept down the pipe, carefully avoiding the piles of stone that had built up since the last time the Chamber was opened. The end of the pipe opened into a long stone passage; they walked for five minutes before coming across a massive pile of boulders reaching nearly to the ceiling.
"There's just enough space to get through," said Richard quietly. He had Daedalus, still in snake form, slung around his neck, and Beth thought fleetingly of Mervin's old pet Gina. "Come on."
He scrambled up the pile of boulders and stayed to help the students through the narrow opening. Finally he crawled through himself and climbed down the other side. They set off again.
This side of the landslide was a real mess. Detached stalactites and stalagmites lay scattered on the ground like abandoned icicles. In the pale blue glow of wand light, Beth could tell that the walls looked fragmented, shaken. She thought of all the rock above her and shuddered.
"Here it is," Richard whispered.
The broad stone doors bore no handle; instead, the pitted surface was adorned with a carved pair of entwined snakes. Faint green light could be seen peeking around the cracks of the door; Beth thought it looked a bit lopsided, like it might have come partially unhinged. Daedalus hissed out an eerie command. The door creaked open.
One by one, the Society for Slytherin Advancement stepped into the chamber of their predecessor.
The Chamber of Secrets looked very different from the last time Beth had been inside. Most prominently, the main floor area was now taken up with the twenty-foot-long skeleton of a basilisk, lying twisted as if it had died in great pain.
"Ah, good," said Richard, rubbing his palms together. "I was hoping it had decomposed. It was pretty disgusting just after it died."
"It's still not exactly a work of art," said Beth, but Richard had already moved past to examine the rest of the room.
The Chamber was long and stone, with a greenish glow that Beth guessed was due to the enchanted sconces along the walls. Except for the enormous statue of Salazar Slytherin that loomed over the back wall, and the complete lack of furniture, it resembled the common room -- unsurprisingly, for Salazar had built them both.
"Coo," said Oren, and Beth grinned at his somber amazement. The younger students had never seen the Chamber before; even Evan Wilkes looked impressed at its grandeur.
Melissa tugged Beth's arm excitedly. "Look, over there's all Salazar's old Potions equipment! And there's Ulysses Donner --" She pointed to the corner, where a stone statue of a boy thrust out his arms in perpetual terror. In fact, it wasn't a statue at all, but a former S.S.A. member who had somehow found his way to the Chamber and been Petrified dead by the basilisk within.
"Nobody's probably been in here since you left," Bruce told Daedalus, looking around appreciatively.
"Good!" said Melissa cheerfully. "It's supposed to be a secret headquarters."
"After all that hoopla the other year, it's about as not secret as you can get," Mervin pointed out.
Melissa waved him away. "It doesn't matter as long as no one but us can get in. Right, Rich?"
"Right," he called back, from where he stood beneath the statue of Salazar. "Even Dumbledore couldn't get in here without a bit of help."
Melissa let out a gasp suddenly. "Dumbledore! Rich, he knows the password to the Vase Room too ..."
"If he visits and finds us gone, I'm sure he'll just track me down in the prefects' lounge," said Richard absently, now examining a huge stone cauldron that loomed among the potions equipment.
"No, that's not what I meant!" Melissa hurried over to him, and Beth, alarmed, followed. "Dumbledore could get into the Vase Room any time he wanted ... how do we know he didn't take the Ledger?"
Rich went pale. "He wouldn't," he said hastily, forcing a confident grin. "Not without asking." He fell silent and Beth wondered exactly how certain he was.
"Well," said Evan, looking around coolly, "if we're here to work, let's get on with it."
Richard shot him a look of evident distaste. "Yes, all right." He whistled and the Society gathered in a circle around the feet of Salazar Slytherin. He spread his arms.
"Here we are, chaps," he said, gesturing around at the vast stone chamber. "Our new home. Needless to say it could use a little fixing up. Scouring Spells over the whole place, fellows, I mean every inch. Oren, Audra, come over here and I'll give you a hand until you've got the hang of them. Everyone else -- let's get cleaning!"
They stayed in the Chamber of Secrets until it was quite late, taking breaks only for meals, and by the evening they had only just begun to make a dent in the centuries of accumulated dust and debris. It was Daedalus who finally shooed them all to bed, promising to open the chamber for them again after class the next day. At the door to the girls' lavatory he transformed again and went slithering off to the Vase Room.
After the long night of Scouring Charms, Beth had trouble making it to breakfast on time. She ate her bacon, eggs and kippers without paying attention, listening in a detached way to the conversations around her. Melissa was looking equally exhausted as she flipped expertly through her Ancient Runes textbook to fill out a neglected worksheet.
Suddenly Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting across the table with Blaise Zabini, let out a short laugh and grabbed at Blaise's sleeve. "Look!" she said excitedly. "It's too precious --"
Hermione Granger was hurrying away from the Gryffindor table, arms held out in front of her, a look of pain on her face. Each hand was easily as large as one of Hagrid's hands. Blaise and Pansy gaped at each other in silent glee; then the both of them broke into hysterical laughter.
"I never imagined --" gasped Pansy, tears streaming down her face.
"I can't believe it," choked Blaise. "This just gets better and better ..." She looked over at Beth. "That article ... those middle-aged witches must be really riled up ..."
Beth rolled her eyes. She knew she couldn't keep Rita Skeeter from printing stories, but she didn't intend to enjoy them either.
Pansy Parkinson let out a few last helpless giggles and dabbed at her eyes. Then she shrieked.
Beth looked around in alarm, but the source of the shriek was instantly obvious. A thick green snake, nearly three feet in length, had slithered onto the table and was now reared up beside Beth's plate, staring at her with its beady black eyes.
Beth started. Then she let out a shaky laugh. "Oh, him?" she said, awkwardly reaching out to pat the snake on the head. "He's my new pet. Um, I got him in Hogsmeade."
Pansy was giving her a look reserved for cockroaches and Gryffindors. Blaise, obviously recognizing Dell's snake form, opened her mouth to say something and closed it again.
The snake coiled around the breakfast plate a few times. Then he came over and nudged Beth's hand, hard. He gestured with his head toward the prefects' table, then nudged her again.
The students stared.
"I think I should show him to the prefect," said Beth abruptly, standing up. She grabbed Daedalus in both hands and made a speedy getaway.
Richard, who had spent so long chatting with the other prefects that he'd hardly started eating, was not thrilled at being dragged away from breakfast, but he followed Beth to a spare classroom. The moment that the door was shut behind them, Daedalus transfigured into a somewhat mussed and distracted-looking human being.
"I thought you were never going to come see me!" said Daedalus breathlessly.
"We were going to finish breakfast first," said Richard, somewhat irritably, but Daedalus broke in --
"I saw the thief!"
All the blood ran out of Richard's face. He lunged forward and caught the front of Daedalus's shirt in both fists. "Who was it? Did you catch her? Where is she now?"
"Jeez, Rich --" Daedalus pried Richard's fingers off of his collar. "I only saw him for a second --"
"You let her get away?"
"It was the middle of the night!" Daedalus took hold of Richard's shoulders and very firmly steered him across the room and shoved him into a chair. "Sit there and listen. This was late at night -- I mean around three in the morning, late -- and suddenly I was awake. I must've heard a sound or something ..."
"What did it sound like?" Richard asked eagerly, starting to rise out of his chair.
Daedalus shoved him down again. "I don't know, I was asleep! A squeak maybe ... a creak ... could've been the door, now that I think on it ... anyway point is I woke up, and I see someone standing across the room. Gave me a nasty shock, I can't tell you ..."
"Who was it?" Richard said. He sounded quite shrill.
"I couldn't see the face," said Daedalus, "it was pitch black, remember? I remember thinking that it was rather a short person. Not as short as Flitwick, say, but on the small side. They were wearing this enormous cloak, though, I couldn't tell if they were skinny or fat or what. They could've even been hunched over under there. I gave a little gasp or something, and they turned, spotted me, and vanished."
"Vanished?" roared Richard, standing up again. "You can't just vanish --"
"You can, and it did," Daedalus said stubbornly. "I lit my wand and looked around -- there was nothing. It must've Disapparated."
"I thought you couldn't Disapparate on the grounds," said Richard. He bit his lip and began to pace around the classroom.
"Actually," said Beth, "you can go between rooms. You just can't Apparate onto or out of the grounds, or into or out of the castle. Vivian told me once."
"Convenient for them," growled Richard, still pacing furiously. "You say you didn't find anything? Any trace of them? Not a -- a red hair, or anything?"
Daedalus raised his eyebrows. "A red one, specifically?"
"Well --" said Richard helplessly. "Anything?"
"I didn't exactly scour the place just yet," Daedalus said, sounding cross.
The chime for class sounded. Beth looked up anxiously. "Rich -- we have class --"
Richard mumbled something about also having a burglar.
"Okay, look, Rich," said Daedalus quickly. "I'm going to spend the day working on the Chamber. You guys go on to class and don't worry about it. You can check out the Vase Room whenever you have a chance. Nothing in there is going to disappear while you're gone."
"The Ledger did," said Richard coldly, and he stormed out to class.
Beth looked up at Daedalus, shrugged apologetically, and hurried off to Potions.
The class was still filling when Beth arrived, so she had time to ask Professor Snape to order her some horsehair for her Alchemy project before she slid into place beside Melissa.
"What did Dell want?" Melissa muttered.
"Tell you later," Beth murmured back.
Professor Snape swept soundlessly to the front of the classroom. "Time seems to be escaping us," he said. "It is now early March --" his tone turned dark "-- and I have yet to see a student correctly brew a simple Silencing potion."
Beth heaved a sigh. She'd been so close last time ... if only she hadn't let it boil quite so long.
"Be that as it may, you will be spending your class time in yet another attempt at getting it right. I trust that you have all brought along your recipes ... although by now, I would not doubt that you have them memorized. Begin."
Beth and Melissa worked efficiently; after so many failed attempts, they were very familiar with the test setup. In no time, their potion base was simmering and the ingredients were neatly shredded, diced and minced.
Melissa had a mercury thermometer stuck in the potion and was watching it with an eagle eye. "Eighty-five degrees," she reported.
"Turn down the fire -- we can't let it get above ninety," Beth instructed her. She reached for the beaker of hens' teeth. "Almost time ..." The potion faded to a rosy pink, then bubbles began to rise and it went as clear as water. Instantly, Beth tipped out the beaker of hens' teeth. They dissolved on impact.
Dissolved ...?
A thick milky-white color swept through the potion and Beth let out an involuntary wail. Hen's teeth didn't dissolve right away -- only fake ones did -- the kind you got at Zonko's joke shop. She hastily poured out another ounce of hen's teeth and dumped it into the potion, with Melissa stirring furiously.
It was too late. The potion was a thick milky pink and hardening by the second.
For a moment Beth just stared at the ruined potion. Then she whirled around to face the Weasley twins, who were ladling a perfectly-brewed Silencing potion into glass bottles and looking quite satisfied with themselves. She felt an angry blush rise in her cheeks.
"I don't believe you two!" she said, overcome with anger and disgust. "What is with you? You screw up my potions, you insult my classmates, you put poison ivy down my robes --"
The Weasley twins, who had been nodding smugly in tandem, stopped and exchanged a glance.
"You praise us too highly," said one extravagantly -- a cocky folk hero reacting to his own overblown legends.
"Good idea, though," the other one added.
"-- you do anything and everything you can to make life horrible for everybody!" Beth went on, afraid that if she let them interrupt she'd never finish speaking. "What could you possibly get out of it? Why on earth do you do it?"
They glanced at each other, and Beth wondered (not for the first time) if they shared some kind of weird twin-telepathy.
"It's fun," said one.
"It's funny," said the other.
The bell chimed to end class.
"I hate you both," Beth snarled, but if she had more to say, she was out of time. The Gryffindors and Slytherins packed up their supplies and parted ways.
It was only later in D.A.D.A. that Beth thought over what they'd said. It seemed to her that they were denying the poison ivy incident. That didn't seem like them ... the twins were proud of their vagrant status. If it wasn't the twins, she thought, then who? But then Professor Moody barked out an order, the whole class jumped, and the question fled from her mind.
Beth endured D.A.D.A. and Apparators' Ed before lunch. (She sat beside Cedric in the latter; he wouldn't even look at her.) As soon as the last bell rang, she scrambled to the Great Hall to see if there was any news from the Society. Richard wasn't there, and Dell didn't show up either, so she had to go back to afternoon classes no more enlightened than before.
Instead of going to dinner, she went straight to the Vase Room after class. Daedalus was there, halfway through a chicken-salad sandwich. Beth didn't even have time to ask how his search had gone before Richard burst in anxiously and asked the same thing.
It turned out that there were red hairs all over the Vase Room. There were lots of blonde, brown, and black hairs too.
"Don't you people ever dust?" Daedalus said, motioning to the pile of shed hair which he had gathered onto a piece of parchment on one of the low sofas.
Richard ignored him. "The Office of Magical Law Enforcement has a potion to analyze the source of hairs," he said, glancing at Beth. "We'll have to do them all."
Beth shook her head. "There are a hundred of them, Rich," she told him. "The potion takes weeks to brew, and it's tricky -- we couldn't get it the first time, with all of us working together. Then it takes a week after that to get results. We haven't got enough equipment to run them all at the same time, it would take several batches ..." She sighed. "The point is, by the time we finished, the school year would be over."
Daedalus put aside his sandwich and looked up at Richard. "Let it go, Rich," he said calmly. "There's nothing more you can do here. Let them have the Vase Room. You've got a better headquarters now, and they can't get into that one."
Richard looked around at the vases. He was silent for a long time. Then he said, "You're right. All we can do is get out." He took a deep breath. "You're right," he said again, shaking his head. "But I hate to leave it."
Daedalus stayed one more day, helping Oren work up a new locking system. When they were done, the jeweled eye of one of the engraved serpents was replaced with a round indentation that fit the rings perfectly. The crest of the Society would open the Chamber.
They moved all of the furniture from the Vase Room to the Chamber of Secrets over the next week or so, using the Shrinking Spells that they'd learned in Flitwick's class. (Except, of course, the vases. "It may not be a secret anymore," Richard shrugged, a little sadly, "but there's no reason to ruin a pretty room.") With the podium set up at Salazar's feet and the sofas and single armchair clustered around it, the dark stone chamber actually took on a comfortable look. Herne added sconces until the room lost its foreboding dimness; Blaise and Morag spent an afternoon Transfiguring an old copy of the Daily Prophet into a big shaggy rug that they threw in the middle of the floor. Oren tinkered with the new lock until the door glided open so smoothly that it would have looked more appropriate on a spaceship than in a Scottish castle.
They left the skeleton of the basilisk intact.
"I think it's cool," Bruce shrugged, as a handful of them went to breakfast after an early morning of cleaning the massive Chamber. "How many folks have those in their secret headquarters?"
"How many folks have secret headquarters at all?" Richard grinned. His mood had much improved. With its basilisk dead, the Chamber of Secrets had fallen back into the stuff of legends and lazy remembrances. They had left nothing in the Vase Room to indicate where they had gone; only the Society knew that the Chamber was serviceable, and only a Society ring would open the lock even if it was found.
"Only the clever ones," said Gypsy sweetly, coming up beside him and pecking him on the cheek.
Beth glanced away and ran a quick blush. When they reached the Great Hall, she peeled away from the group and took a seat at the other end of the table, near Warrington and Antigone but far enough that she could count on being alone.
"Goot morning, Beth!"
As usual, she was wrong.
Josef came up behind her, grinning. He caught a look at her face and tilted his head quizzically. "Vot is wrong?"
"My -- my burn hurts," she lied, and rubbed her arm to prove it.
Josef tutted sympathetically. "You know vhat vill make it feel better?" He climbed into the chair beside her. "Going vith me to the Yule Ball."
She gave him an exasperated look. "I already went with you to the Yule Ball."
"And it didn't hurt then, did it?" he said triumphantly.
Beth just looked at Josef, grinning as if he owned the world. No response seemed appropriate, so she said, "Good point," and went back to eating.
"Vell, vant to go vith me again?" Josef persisted.
"Josef," said Beth, very slowly and clearly, "they're probably not going to have another one until the next Tournament. Five years from now."
"Of course." Josef looked thoughtful. "Vell," he said again, "vant to go for a valk by t'e lake tonight?"
"I have Alchemy homework," said Beth, who had really finished all but one problem the night before.
"Goot, I'll meet you after supper," he said cheerfully, and got up and left.
"But I said --" Beth called after him, but he was already gone.
The invitation caused Melissa unimaginable excitement.
"This one really is a date!" she squealed, bouncing up and down on her canopy bed. "Okay, now make sure you brush your teeth before you go. If you want to be alone you can use the broom shed, the Astronomy Tower or one of the empty classrooms -- and you'll want to remember to put a Silencing Charm on the door --"
Beth was not curious as to how Melissa knew all this. "It is not a date," she said, for perhaps the tenth time all year. "And besides, I didn't even agree to go along!"
"Honestly, Beth," said Melissa, with a melodramatic groan, "you're being pursued by this gorgeous foreign fellow. Please try to enjoy it!"
"He's not that gorgeous," Beth snapped back, her voice brittle, but Melissa's words gave her pause. A year ago she hadn't been pursued by anyone at all. So Josef wasn't her first choice ... did she have to rule him out entirely?
Melissa must have seen the thoughts run behind Beth's eyes. She nodded satisfactorily. "You're going to have a good time," she told Beth, as if it was in her power to assure it. "Just don't forget about the Astronomy Tower."
"We are not going to end up in the Astronomy Tower!" Beth howled.
"Tell me that when you get back," said Melissa stubbornly.
Josef was looking more exuberant than usual at dinner that night. Immediately after, he disappeared -- Beth thought she was off scot-free until he came back with one of the enormous shaggy Durmstrang cloaks in hand.
"Ready to go?" he said cheerily, holding out the cloak.
Beth cast a helpless glance at Melissa, who only smirked and settled back in her chair. "I --" She looked around and found no escape. "Oh, all right."
She followed him to the Entrance Hall.
"You know, you really didn't have to bring one of your school cloaks for me," said Beth, sliding on the thick-furred cape. "I've got my own."
"Of course," said Josef. "But yours makes you look like you're from Hogvarts."
"What's wrong with -- ooooh," she finished, catching on. A Durmstrang student was less likely to get in trouble for wandering the grounds at night; moreover, if Karkaroff noticed them, he would think they were two of his own. "Good thinking," she said, impressed.
Josef shrugged, looking bashful for the first time Beth could remember. He snapped out of it quickly. "Let's go before ve are stopped," he said, and the two of them went down the stone steps and into the chilly March night.
The moon was full and luminous against the winter sky and snowy grounds. Beth tilted her head to it and wondered briefly where Professor Lupin was at the moment -- running around in wolfskin somewhere, no doubt. Josef, too, gazed at the moon. "Krasivi," he said.
Beth glanced over at him with a wry grin. She remembered the phrase from the Yule Ball. "Starving, are you?"
Astonishingly, Josef flushed a brilliant red. "It means, 'beautiful'," he said awkwardly.
Beth's mouth dropped open. "Oh." She blushed as red as Josef and from then on didn't look over at him much.
The icy wind across the lake gave little indication that spring was just around the corner. Beth's breath came out as billowing white as the snow; the tip of Josef's nose grew red in the cold. The Durmstrang ship shimmered with glittering lights from the small porthole windows. They walked along the edge of the shore quietly. Josef was unnaturally silent. Beth was actually relieved when, after they had reached the lake and left the castle far behind, Josef said, "I haff a riddle for you."
She looked at him questioningly.
"T'ere is a strange script written on blue velvet parchment," said Josef, with a ghost of smile, "vhich no priest or prelate is learned enough to read."
It was like no riddle Beth had ever heard. "A strange script on blue velvet parchment," she repeated. Was she supposed to guess what the script was? -- it was more like a poem than a riddle. She tried to guess. "A blue velvet parchment could be ... the lake? Or ... a cloth ..." She remembered the riddle from the Sphinx, when the Society had ventured into the Forbidden Forest after a fruit that would cure Daedalus Dellinger from his Petrified state. Then there had been five of them to solve it. She wished they were here now.
Josef was shaking his head and smiling. "T'e blue parchment," he coaxed, with a grand sweep of his hand, "is above us ..."
Beth looked up into the velvet sky. "And the script," she said softly, "is the stars ..."
"Vell done!" said Josef, though he had all but given her the answer. He began to sing in a low voice:
He sang without pretense and without showmanship. Beth had the idea he wasn't singing either to himself or to her ... the clear voice covered the night ... perhaps he was singing to the moon itself. The song ended as quietly as it had begun.
"Krasivi," Beth breathed.
Josef gave her a quick, half-embarrassed look. "Just a little song," he said. He looked up into the stars, almost for guidance. Then he hesitantly reached out and took her hand.
Her first reaction was to pull away, and, eyes startled wide, she began to -- but immediately she stopped herself. Josef's fingers were cool, and his face was subtly anxious. She forced herself to relax. A very normal thing to do, Parson, she told herself, heart beating fast, and there were Melissa's words again: "At least try to enjoy it!" All right, she thought firmly. I'll enjoy it.
She laced her fingers around Josef's and smiled up at him. He looked quite relieved.
Josef talked continuously for the next fifteen minutes. He told Beth about his classes at Durmstrang and some of his friends that hadn't come to compete; he told stories about the professors, monsters and spirits that made their home on the school grounds. He talked about his family: a mother in Poland, a father in Ukraine and a younger pair of twin sisters whom he obviously adored.
"Do they go to Durmstrang too?" Beth asked.
"They do not," Josef said. He changed topics and left Beth wondering.
Finally they reached the far side of the lake. At the edge of the forest, a long shelf of rock sprang up from the earth; Josef led her to it and lit a warm sky-blue fire on the ground while Beth perched on an outcropping.
They sat silently side by side, watching the stars. Beth let her head rest on Josef's shoulder. It was nice, she thought lazily, to be near a boy ... to watch the angles of his face change as he talked, to catch the musky masculine smell ... to sense his strength and surety ... it was nice to be looked at so tenderly ...
She was so at ease that she almost didn't notice when Josef leaned over and kissed her lips.
Beth let herself fall into the strange softness of the kiss. Her eyes closed, she took in the new taste and sweet pressure and frightening closeness with a kind of dreamy acceptance. Boys, she thought, were all right. They were rather stupid, and could be entirely frustrating, like Richard ...
Her eyes flew open.
Richard.
She jerked away from Josef and a crimson flush burst onto her cheeks. What was she doing? It was Richard she wanted to be sitting here with, Richard she wanted to be kissing, and it wasn't -- it wasn't fair to anybody, to be here with Josef now --
Josef stared at her, stunned.
"I -- I can't." The complete wrongness of the situation struck her all at once and she got up off the rock, flustered. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come."
For a moment Josef just watched her in frozen bewilderment. Then his lips thinned and a strange stiffness fell over his face -- no, his entire bearing. He stood up. "Perhaps you are right." Even his voice was newly curt. His shoulders were rigid, proud. "I vill valk you back to t'e castle."
Beth looked away. "You don't have to --"
"It is dark and it is dangerous," he said shortly. "Come."
Beth hurried to keep up with his long strides, looking up at him anxiously. All traces of humor had fled, leaving -- what? Not anger, distinctly, or even hurt ... perhaps a coldness, that rivaled even the chill of the air?
Neither of them spoke on the swift, impersonal walk back to the castle. At the foot of the great stone steps, Josef stopped and waited for Beth to enter. She couldn't let him go back to the ship without understanding. She had to try again.
"Josef, I'm -- I'm so sorry --"
"Do not trouble yourself," Josef broke in, this time allowing a bare hint of the sarcastic to creep into his tone. "After all, t'e szlama haff no hearts."
"The what?" Beth felt profoundly stupid and cruel.
"Good evening." Josef turned on his heel and strode across the grounds to the Durmstrang ship, bobbing merrily on the waves with its many portholes glimmering with light.
Beth watched him go with the heartsick feeling that something irreparable had been torn.
