Chapter Six: Too Many Surprises
The darkness of the room shifted menacingly, every syllable of the name hissing through her ears, punctuated by the violent crackle of fire.
Severus.
Snape.
The darkness erupted, wrenching and clawing, voices lifted so high and enraged they stamped out the shouts of the man now struggling under every blow.
She was only vaguely aware of her own voice joined with theirs, blazing with hate, as hot as the blood pounding in her ears.
Kill the traitor.
Death is too good.
Long live Lord Voldemort.
She detached herself from it just as she refused to acknowledge the hand now helping to tear back his hood.
She was two people. Tonight, the shadow took over.
Minutes passed. Her hands rent, tore; her eyes watched, blurred behind a mask--a bubbling wall of tears.
Long live Lord Voldemort.
He lay, the barest semblance of a man now, flopping and spluttering on the floor, trying not to escape but to die. He was missing three fingers on his left hand, his right broken and bent back on itself. His pale cheeks bloomed with bruises, and, as he coughed a plea for mercy, blood gurgled thick from his throat.
He looked up at her, one eye already wrenched from its socket, thin, red rivulets trickling down his cheeks.
She bit her tongue hard, the thick taste of copper exploding in her mouth.
No mercy for traitors.
She reached out and hit him, hand across the cheek.
Her voice again—vile, distant.
And her foot connected with his stomach.
At least, she saw that it was her foot. She felt nothing. Nothing.
He kept pushing up from the floor, his macabre, Cyclops gaze meeting hers desperately.
She reached out to strike him again, but this time he grabbed her hand in his. Long fingers wrapped around hers, and she remembered, distant, that same hand resting on her waist as they danced. Gripping a phial loosely. Cradling a ragged black quill.
"Lili." A raw, desperate whisper.
She jerked away in fear, hand slick with black blood.
"Lili."
His voice had become a woman's, his bloodied face now whole and soft-skinned.
"Lili?"
Olivia was leaning over her, looking scared. "Lili, are you okay?"
Her mind jerked up, spluttering, reeling almost as violently as her stomach.
Until she felt the sheets pulled taut over her tense, sweating legs.
A nightmare. Only a nightmare.
At least, for the time being.
"You were shouting," Olivia said, shifting and watching Lili warily. "Something about 'no mercy for traitors'…"
"Oh, I'm fine," she said, wincing. Her tongue buzzed with pain; apparently that coppery-blood had not been completely unreal. She swirled it in her mouth a moment before swallowing bitterly. "I guess I had too much champagne last night."
Olivia nodded, and Lili couldn't be sure whether she believed this or not. "Well, I thought you might want to wake up. It's six in the afternoon, afterall."
Lili gave some small sound of assent, willing her legs to swing out of the bed—willing them to bear her weight.
She had gone to Lang the night before, and he had kept her four hours in that underground tomb, seeming not to miss the sleep. They had, of course, argued, but Lili was resolute. She knew what had to be done.
Snape's face flashed through her mind, mangled as it had been in her dream.
It had to be done. Soon.
"I brought the mail in," Olivia said, turning to watch Lili stumble her way out of bed and into the hall. "There's a birthday card for you."
Lili took the mess of papers Olivia offered her with a shaking yawn. Looking at mail seemed almost too normal an activity—she barely knew how to handle it, her head spinning with thoughts so heavy and crucial…
The birthday card was from her old Headmaster, Professor Zhi.
She had hoped, briefly, to see her father's name scrawled across the inside; but that was foolish masochism. She hadn't spoken to or seen her father in almost three years.
"Six days now," Olivia said, shaking an envelope in her direction. "Someone's birthday is coming, and I haven't forgotten."
Lili's head throbbed. Had it been anyone but Olivia, they would have been rewarded with a snarl. The last thing she needed right now was to worry about what disaster Olivia might have planned for her birthday. She didn't say anything, merely flipping through the remainder of her mail absent-mindedly.
Gringotts Bank would like to inform you of a change in our vault accessing proc—
Looking for the perfect wizard to light up your nights—
Come have a drink at The Golden Goblet—
The Snake and Skull Cauldron Emporium—
She stopped.
It looked like an advert, but she knew better. Trying to keep her face nonchalant, she sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed several bottles, phials and a large, leafy plant, and marched back into her room.
She made sure to close and lock the door.
If she could only remember how this was supposed to work…
Three drops of frog's blood…no wait…two.
She dug beneath her bed, and, after pawing through several stacks of books, pulled out the one she needed: Complex Concoctions by David R. Fitzwellington. It had once been black and new, but, after such a long term under her bed, it had faded to a dusty gray.
She blew a sheath of dust from the pages and began scanning.
She kept a small cauldron at the end of her bed, just in case. She began filling it, losing herself in the process.
Three drops frog's blood in boiling water.
Stir clockwise five revolutions.
Moondust (one teaspoon) and an infusion of mugwort, added simultaneously.
Wait until silver.
Trace out the rune 'Eth' on the surface with phoenix feather.
When rune is complete, surface should turn gold. Add five leaves of kingsfoil, finely chopped.
The entire potion took almost an hour to finish, not helped by the fact that she was forced to start over again when she mixed up the rune 'Eth' with another less appropriate collection of strokes.
When it was finally done, she reached for the cauldron advert and, holding it tightly in her dragonhide gloves, dipped it in the bubbling liquid with patient expectation.
The liquid fizzled, sparked, and, for a moment, Lili was afraid she had done something wrong as the paper had now, she guessed, been reduced to ashes. But, to her amazement, when the sparks finally subsided, she pulled out the paper once more, wholly intact.
The advertisement's black ink was floating several inches above the page and now began to dance, small clumps whizzing around each other and rearranging themselves into black letters written in an elegant, long hand.
Just as she'd suspected; a letter from Snape.
She was lucky she'd remembered that damn potion. It was just like him, still testing her two years after graduation.
She sank onto the side of the bed and began reading, uncertain whether to feel excited or nervous to hear from him so soon.
Miss Lee,
She paused. Still Miss Lee. She wasn't sure why that bothered her, but it did.
Miss Lee,
I thought it best to contact you in regards to the situation I seem to have found myself in. I spoke with Dumbledore last night; he can offer me no other solutions than to run. As you might guess, I find myself as willing to take this path as I was so many years ago. In truth the final result of that course would be the same as simply waiting until Sunday to meet death…
She knew he would not run; partly for the reasons he had given her two years previous when she had considered running, and partly because he was simply too proud.
She couldn't blame him. Twenty years of pretending—it would be too hard to tuck tail and run.
Her eyes continued sliding down the page, weighed by the heavy black lines of his writing.
I also spoke briefly with Lang this morning through the fire. He seemed to think I needed to be made aware of some plans you had expressed to him. For once I am glad of his meddling.
Her heart sank. Damn Lang. Damn him and his constant arrogant intrusion…
Frankly, I'm appalled that you would have even considered such a course of action. I thought my instruction and two years of experience would have made you wiser than some fifth-year Gryffindor ready to go bumbling off, brave but stupid. Now of all times, we must be restrained, no matter what we might feel compelled to do…
Her grip on the letter tightened; he still scolded her as if she was one of his Hogwarts pupils. Her mind briefly dredged up memories of the vitriolic lectures following failed extra-hours potions.
She frowned.
Granted, her plan had not been the most desirable, but, under the circumstances she didn't see what chance he had if they weren't willing to take a risk—to play the same game of cat and mouse as the Dark Lord…
She would go to him—to Voldemort; the meeting could be easily arranged through Malfoy. She would there beg him for the traitor's name, demanding the chance to bring this rogue in for justice. The Dark Lord knew her—or thought he knew her—to be an overtly ambitious young witch; it was an image she had worked hard to concoct.
And if he gave her the name, they would know for sure. If he denied her, at best she'd lost nothing.
At worst—
Well, it was a risk. She admitted that. But she couldn't stomach just sitting, waiting, doing nothing.
She remembered the wet heat of Snape's nightmarish hand as it clasped hers desperately.
No, she couldn't just sit and wait. She wouldn't let it happen.
I know there is enough Slytherin in you to understand the stakes I face. Though inaction is difficult, all I can ask is, if you have any respect for me, do nothing. I have a plan even now; I do not know if it will be successful, but there's a chance we may yet both escape without allowing Voldemort the satisfaction of my blood.
A flutter in her chest.
If you trust me, don't go to Voldemort. Don't go to Malfoy. In time you'll understand my reasoning.
He had a plan? What could it be? And, more importantly, why hadn't she thought of it first? Her eyes skipped on, desperate to find some clue of his plans.
One precaution I must insist upon is an immediate stop in our communication. Do not send me any letters—by Artibius or any other means—no matter how well disguised or how anonymous. I have no doubt that I am being carefully watched and cannot afford to be foolish, sending letters back and forth when there's no need.
Her mouth was dry, her still throbbing tongue swollen against the hard wall of her clenched teeth.
So she should do nothing. Sit. Wait. Speak to no one.
The letter shook in her hands.
But he had a plan. That was something. She simply had to trust his cunning and his word…
There were several scratched lines after the next paragraph, and Lili squinted, trying to make out the ink-blotted letters. She could make out only one: "grateful."
Apparently, he had decided against whatever thought he'd been attempting, and replaced it with a simple
Sincerely,
Professor Severus Snape
She read the letter one more time, her dry lips mouthing each of the words as if to help her make sense of it.
Do not go to Voldemort. Trust me. --Was that really all he had to say?
The paper slipped from her fingers to the floor.
A short letter and to the point.
She would wait.
As simple as that.
Six days. That was all.
She found herself laying in bed again, crumpled sheets in mountains around her feet.
Well perhaps it was good that he'd stopped her. Who knew what consequences her plan might have had? It had been a dangerous idea—a desperate one. And experience had taught her that desperate plans were for foolhardy Gryffindors. Time, shrewdness, and the ability to endure the pricks of waiting often yielded much richer rewards. Yes, Snape was right; if anyone could handle it, he could.
So why is your heart still trembling as if shaken by thunder?
She swallowed deeply.
Part of it was fear; that much she knew. Snape himself admitted that his plan might not work. And for six days she would have to sit, wondering, horrible dreams waiting just inside her eyelids.
And if it did go wrong…
She couldn't escape the gruesome images of the possible consequences.
But, in six days, those images might be more real than she wanted ever to imagine.
And what if she was forced to strike a blow? Could she raise her hand, strike him as she had in the dream? Or would she give herself away, resigned to the same horrible fate?
Her teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot on her swollen tongue, and she hissed woefully.
And that was the rest of her fluttering heart. Would she want to stay if he died? Could she handle this alone?
Of course you can. You've been handling it alone for two years. You knew this could happen. Hell, you knew it would probably happen. Why are you torturing yourself over it?
Her hand rose almost unconsciously to her cheek.
She knew, or at least, had some idea.
Blinking the frustrated tears from her eyes, she reached over to her night table, ripped open the drawer, and pulled out a vial filled with blue liquid.
Dreamless sleep.
It would make her groggy at work the next morning, but at least she could push it away for one night more.
As she drifted off to sleep, the letter fizzled on the floor, Snape's elegant hand melting away into the long, severe visage of a snake and skull.
********************************
Despite her fears to the contrary, the week managed to hobble by without an abnormal amount of anguish. Discovering the distracting potential of work, Lili made the Ministry Dungeons her temporary home, taking several hours of sleep a night on her lab table, and spending the remainder of her days scribbling out new formula ideas, trying them again and again. Early in the week, there had been a scandal at Hogwarts concerning two Slytherin students who had been caught trying to expel the Dark Mark over the school. DEMA had called them in and apparently discovered the same mark burned under their skin. Panicking, Lang and the Department of Mysteries then called her in, and she'd spent the better part of two days locked in the lowest levels of the Ministry talking to Lang and the DEMA board about these two boys and any connection they might have had to the Dark Lord. As it turned out, the boys had given themselves the Mark—a poor, malformed version of the real thing—as a dare. Embarrassed, the Ministry had turned them over to a correctional facility for counseling, and had sent Lili back to her work without a word. Though she was glad of the distraction, going before the DEMA committee would not have been her first choice of diversions. Of all the people at the Ministry, the DEMA board was the group most outspoken against double agents. She remembered sitting before the board two years earlier, hearing her charges, feeling utterly alone and helpless. This time, she had girded her heart with iron, strengthened by two years of scrutinizing, judging eyes. She had searched the nine members of the board for Olivia's new heart throb, hoping for some friendly—or at least familiar—face. But she didn't find one. Sam worked out in the field; at least that's what Lang said.
Between work and the examination, she seemed to find herself at the week's end without half the grief she'd expected. Knowing not to stop working, she stayed in her lab Friday night and most of Saturday, and only at six decided she could work no more.
Though she'd rather go on with the potions, she knew it was time to stop and face the fearsome chill of reality.
Tucking her gloves in a cabinet and twitching a locking spell at the door, the weight of everything she'd been pushing aside hit her heavily.
What had Snape been doing all this time? What was his plan and when would she find out about it? Surely he wouldn't make her wait until tomorrow—until the very night…
She swallowed, mounting the stairs that led up to the apparation point for the building. Just pause for a bit, Lili. Give yourself a break. You've been working hard. Go home, collapse on the bed, and wait for tomorrow. A thick pain was pulsing at the base of her skull; the beginnings of a dull, gnawing headache.
A few moments later she was at her apartment door, staring at the tall, white frame in silence. The night air was thick—almost wet—and insects seemed to be wailing rather than chirping. Somewhere in the distance the sun had begun to disappear, shadows crawling across the sky.
She was home. This was her door. Might as well go on in.
But she made no move. Somehow she knew that, once inside, she wouldn't be able to push it away. It would hit her full force and, exhausted, heart heavy and head aching, she simply couldn't support herself for long.
She tapped the knob lightly, and it creaked open, the high squeak cutting through her aching head, a dull and ragged dagger.
"SURPRISE!"
Her heavy heart lurched into overdrive, unable for a few seconds to comprehend the explosion of sound, light, and faces accosting her.
Oh right. My birthday. She realized suddenly what the gnawing ache in her brain had been. My goddamn birthday.
Olivia was standing in front of a crowd of around ten people; they were all beaming, but Olivia seemed close to bursting. They were wearing little party caps in the shape of pointed black witch hats, and several of them were tooting the sort of noisemakers that forced Lili to reach up and cradle her head.
True to her word, Olivia had not forgotten. The apartment was draped with banners, balloons, streamers, and any number of enchanted smoke and mirrors. The painting above the fireplace—one of Olivia's garish favorites—had burst into life, several tiny rustics jumping around in the frame wishing her a happy birthday.
It was just the sort of thing that made every muscle in her body involuntarily begin to turn back towards the door.
"Come in, Lili, come in!" Olivia exclaimed, predicting the turn and intercepting her before an exit was possible. She laced her arm in Lili's and led the weary witch further into the crux of the watching guests. Lili looked about at them flatly. It was just as she'd suspected--almost entirely Olivia's friends. Who else would have come?
"I was afraid you wouldn't come," she said, sitting Lili down on the couch and handing her a party hat marked '21.' "You haven't been home in so many days, I wondered if I'd see you again."
Lili looked up, ready to apologize, but she could tell Olivia was joking by the smile cracking the girl's face almost in two.
I envy her that smile. I want to smile.
She tried a grin, but only managed a less entrenched frown.
"Let me introduce you to everyone," Olivia said matter-of-factly, then walking her about the room, reeled off a few names and relations. Lili knew only one of the girls; an ex-Hufflepuff beater from Hogwarts named Rosaline Kardiff. The rest were friends of Olivia's from the Ministry or Muggles she knew from work.
All except for the last guest. When she stepped forward to be introduced, Lili managed wide though tired eyes.
"I tried to get Draco and Dia, but they were still on honeymoon in France. This was the next best thing," Olivia explained, gesturing with some exaggeration, nervous to see the neutral look of astonishment on Lili's face.
"Miss—Granger. I must say I'm surprised to see you here." She searched for something more sour but found herself too tired for such exertions.
The young witch was twisting at her hair—a habit which had always annoyed Lili—and it was several moments before she responded. "Yes, I'd imagine. I'm a little surprised to be here myself." A pause. "It's just, well, Olivia owled me and told me about your birthday. And we parted on such bad terms, I've just been wanting to, um, apologize, you know. I was very emotional when I left. I'm—sorry."
There was a distinct turning in her stomach, her face unsure how to respond. Part of her was sickened by the idea of the Gryffindor, so noble and moral, coming to her birthday to apologize and be friendly, flouting her righteousness for all to see and admire. But, beneath the Slytherin bristling, Lili simply couldn't believe the woman had actually come. After all that she'd said—two years of abuse and fighting—the woman had actually come. For whatever reason (Lili was not so sure she completely accepted Hermione's desire to make amends), it took some guts.
Lili nodded, remembering only briefly the harsh words at their last encounter. "Yes well, we were all under a lot of stress at the time." Perhaps it was too close to an admission of regret, but her tongue was heavy and not up to wrestling with subtlety. She looked about, making certain no one besides Olivia had heard the conversation.
Everyone was talking quietly amongst themselves, affording her only curious and quick glances. They all had glasses full of white champagne, sweeping the drinks expressively as they spoke, smiling and reclining on the couches and chairs around the room. She wondered what sort of people would come to a party for someone they didn't even know--and enjoy themselves so much.
Friends of Olivia's, that's who, she thought flatly, rubbing at her head once more.
"Well, Olivia, thank you so much for remembering my birthday, but I'm really not feeling well," Lili said, doing her best at an apologetic smile and making sure Olivia noticed her cradling her twinging skull. "I think I really just need to rest tonight."
Olivia glanced over at Hermione, as if in disbelief. "You can't rest now! You haven't even opened your presents yet!" Shaking her head, she took Lili by the arm and marched her back to the sofa, throwing her down and offering her the first gift, a large box wrapped in metallic green paper.
Lili stretched herself slightly to peak over the tall silver bow that blocked her eyes from Olivia's. "They brought presents?"
Everyone's attention was focused on her now, and she simply refused to believe that so many people who didn't even know her had brought presents.
"Of course!" Olivia said, hitting at the box as if demanding she stop goggling and open her gift. "That one's from me of course. Slytherin colors." Her eyebrow arched. "And you'd better appreciate that, coming from me. I tell you, resisting the red paper and gold bow was a true trial."
There were titters from some of the Hogwarts alumni.
She swallowed and promised herself to both hug and curse Olivia at the next possible opportunity.
She tried to get through the gifts quickly, offering a curt thanks to each individual whose name was scrawled on a tag. Olivia had gifted her with a potions textbook; thoughtful, though it was one Lili already had gathering dust under her bed. There was a good deal of cauldron cleaner, some books about love potions (which Lili supposed Olivia had urged the purchase of), and, from the Muggles, various forms of bath soaps. It took them a good three minutes to explain to Lili the use of bath beads, and, by the time they'd finished, she had more ideas about using them for potions than in her bath.
Hermione's had been the only reasonably enjoyable gift, though it chaffed Lili somewhat to admit her interest in it. It too was a textbook; Chemical Reactions and Compounds. Hermione said it was a text used in Muggle schools to teach the Muggle subject of chemistry. Lili nodded, vowing to look over it--if she could. She knew little of anything Muggle, but imagined Hermione had given this to her as it bore some relevance to potion-making.
"Thank you—Hermione," she said coolly, tucking the book under her arm as she rose from her seat and briefly met the other witch's eyes. The significance of the statement had not been lost on her, though she seemed faintly jarred to hear her first name from Lili's lips.
"And thanks, er, everyone," she attempted, not managing much sincerity over the insistent throbbing inside her skull. "But I'm really not feeling too well—"
"Is your stomach bothering you?" Olivia interrupted.
"No, my head."
"Good!" her roommate exclaimed again, grabbing Lili's arm and pulling her toward the kitchen. "Then you can have some cake first. Come on, help me cut it."
She started to object, but Olivia had already dragged her into the kitchen and was fishing out a large gold cake-cutter from their silverware drawer.
Lili sighed, rubbing her temples, letting her heavy eyes fall to the floor. Why did I ever tell her my birthday…
"And here it is…" Olivia said at length, pulling open one of the cupboards and revealing the cake-- a large white mass, gaudily decorated with pink frosting flowers.
"Olivia, I really don't think—"
"Oh, come on! You've been locked in that Ministry dungeon all week: you need to live a little—especially on your birthday!" Olivia slid the cutter through the fluff of cake and icing, eyeing Lili wickedly. "Besides, it's your favorite."
She pulled a piece out carefully, revealing a dark red center.
Lili expelled a quick syllable of pure astonishment. "Red velvet cake?" She hadn't seen a red velvet cake since her childhood and, suddenly, she felt hungrier than she'd thought possible just two seconds before. She ran her finger through the thick icing, watching it clot in delicious mounds. "How did you know…?"
Olivia's grin deepened, but she simply shrugged and said nothing.
She licked her finger and, though her head throbbed and her stomach roiled with fear and dread of things to come, she couldn't help smiling back. "Thanks."
Olivia only darted a bright eye at her, continuing to press the gold into the cake again and again.
She leaned back against a cabinet, watching Olivia's hands move deftly. For some reason, her eyes were burning, her throat squeezing in an attempt to hold back the sudden rush of emotion that shook her heart. The sensation was neither happy or sad—merely warm, swimming in her stomach, tingling in her veins.
Here I am, on the edge of what could be death and torture, and I'm about to lose it over some red velvet cake?
She swallowed deeply.
No. It's not the cake. It's not the cake, and you know it.
It was Olivia and her streamers and her rounding up of people who'd pretend to care (Lili had already wondered what Olivia had offered them in exchange). It was the fact that her hard-headed Gryffindor roommate had gone on with the party even though Lili had mocked and scorned and openly threatened her.
And, of course, she'd gone out of her way to find out Lili's favorite kind of cake. From Merlin knew where.
Only two people had ever treated her with such tender attention since she'd returned to England. One of them had drifted away and was now on his honeymoon in France. And the other…
There was a loud thud at the window, and both Lili and Olivia jumped, the latter sending a piece of cake splattering to the floor.
"Oh," Olivia growled, looking between the window and the icing smattered on the kitchen tile. "It's only an owl." She reached up and freed the latch allowing the small, spotted bird to enter.
The owl flew in and immediately made for the ruined cake.
"Well you might as well clean it up, you daft bird," Olivia sighed, bending down to remove the small package tied around the bird's taloned-feet.
Lili watched, amused, as the bird beaked a large piece of spongy cake, letting out a satisfied hoot.
Grumbling, Olivia turned the package over, squinting to read the small tag written in emerald green ink. Her face lit up as if the very meaning of life was scrawled on the box. "Ahh, it's for you," she said, handing it to Lili with obvious relish. "It's from Snape."
Feeling as if slammed flat by a speeding train, Lili grabbed the package, stomach sinking. She had been waiting for some word all week—some hint as to his plan and any role she might play in it. She peeled at the paper almost as intently as Olivia watched her.
Under the thin white paper was another layer of shimmering black paper, and atop the small box, another tag that merely proclaimed sternly, "Happy Birthday."
Olivia danced between her feet. "Oh, a birthday gift. It's awfully small. Hmmm…what could it be? A bracelet? Or perhaps some other small piece of jewelry, eh?" She stepped closer, peeking at the box with greater intensity as if trying to peer straight inside. "Well, let's have it then!"
Lili worked her fingers under the paper slowly, wondering about the contents herself. While she sincerely doubted it was anything along the lines Olivia was suggesting, she had no idea what it might be. The only gifts Snape had ever given her were books, and this was obviously small enough to rule that out. She also had to consider that it might not be a gift at all but something essential to the plan Snape had mentioned before. She wondered whether she shouldn't open it in her room, but suspected Olivia wouldn't stand for that.
"Oh." She pulled the paper aside and held its contents flat in her palm.
Olivia lifted her eyes to Lili's before they sunk back to the small box lying across Lili's hand. "Oh. Bertie Bott's."
Lili swallowed. Bertie Bott's. A small package of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans.
Olivia attempted a slight smile before turning back to the cake with a sigh. "Well, it's the thought that counts, right?"
She rolled the box over several times, taking deep breaths and listening to the beans roll about solidly.
Well, Lili, what did you expect? Snape isn't exactly the sort to seek out lavish gifts. Nor were Bertie Bott's an unusual birthday present. Yes, perfectly acceptable. Except, of course, that she had never particularly liked the candies—a fact she'd mentioned to Snape on several occasions.
Her grip tightened, fingers poking open the box top with a loud tear.
It's an acceptable gift, Lili, she continued repeating to herself, trying to forget that the only time she resorted to giving Honeydukes candies was when she didn't particularly know nor care about the recipient.
But why should he care so much, really? Two years of nothing and only a few brief meetings was hardly enough…
But no.
Something in her refused to believe that she was merely deluding herself. They had connected at the Café, she was sure of it. They had spoken as friends, as—
She remembered—as if in a flash—his breath on her cheek.
She looked back down at the beans, shaking her head and berating herself for such foolish, inconsequential—
Olivia held out a plate of cake. "Here, have some. It'll make you feel better. It's got a frosting rose and ev—what?"
Lili's eyes were fixed intently on the open box.
"What? What's wrong?"
Lips parted, breath stopped in her throat, Lili pulled a small, silver ring out from between the beans and held it up, watching it as if, somehow, it would come alive.
Olivia let out such a loud squeal, the owl on the floor abandoned his splattered feast and zoomed out the window.
Digging in the box several more seconds, Lili discovered a letter folded and magically shrunk to miniscule size. She abandoned the beans and tapped the letter frantically with her wand, watching it expand, the tiny green dots becoming the familiar long strokes of Snape's hand.
Certain her roommate was merely watching keenly from across the kitchen, she began reading, trying to keep her mind steady.
Lili,
She paused, letting her eyes rest upon the word. Her heart skipped a beat before resuming its normal, sensible drumming.
I hope your birthday finds you well. I'm sure you're surprised to receive this from me as I had requested a complete cessation in our communications. However I assure you this owl was not watched; and likely it does not matter at this time. No doubt you're also perplexed by the ring, but I hope you will not misunderstand my intentions.
She pulled in a deep breath. Intentions? The very word made her palms sweat. When had Snape ever cared a knut about what she thought of his intentions? And indeed, did he honestly think that she would assume…
The ring itself was a gift to me from my grandmother Octavia Snape. You may recognize it as, till this day, I have kept it secured to my wand—
Yes, she realized looking at it more closely and remembering the first time she spied the ring, glimmering on his long thin wand during the dueling club. She hadn't even noticed the small writing carved on the backside of it until now. Squinting, she was just able to make out what it said.
"She dwelt among the untrodden ways"
The writing on it is from a poem my grandmother was rather fond of. I hope you will hold this ring for me, at least until all of what will happen has finally passed. Harm can come to my wand, but never to this ring. Surely I need not tell you to be careful with it. And don't lose it, for Merlin's sake. I know you with your piles of rubbish and papers…
She rolled her eyes, turning the silver ring over several times in her hand, watching light glimmer off the thin cut words as if the band was inlaid with diamonds.
I will recover the ring from you after tomorrow night. I appreciate your keeping this—and indeed, all the things you have done for me.
And once again, happy birthday.
Sincerely,
Professor Severus Snape
Lili folded the letter solemnly and returned to examining the ring, mind whirling.
So that, she supposed, was it.
"Well?!" Olivia exclaimed, wringing her hands and obviously fighting the urge to snatch the letter from Lili's grasp.
Pressing her lips together, Lili slipped the ring down on her ring finger, admiring the way it seemed to light up her hand. She turned the writing to the back, then held it out for Olivia to examine.
"Well, it's simple," her roommate said, dashing across the room and taking Lili's thin hands in hers. "But really elegant. And that's real silver—you can tell by the way it glows."
The two women stood admiring it for a moment in silence, before Olivia could stand it no longer.
"So, what does it mean?"
Lili looked at her only briefly before returning her eyes to the loaned ring.
Yes, what does it mean. Of course Snape said he needed her to hold onto it until after the meeting tomorrow night. Did that mean he was quite confident he'd survive? And yet, he was afraid that some harm might come to the ring if it stayed in his possession. What the hell was he planning? And why was it so absolutely essential that she of all people look after this thing?
She began to feel the pounding once more in the back of her skull. "She dwelt among the untrodden ways," she whispered to herself, deep in thought.
And why had he thanked her? "For all the things you've done for me" : what had she ever truly done? And even though she could think of several things, what on earth could have made him admit it? She didn't know whether to feel flattered or incredibly afraid…
"Well, what does it mean?" Olivia pressed, looking as if she might shake Lili to get an answer.
She rubbed only briefly at her temple, feeling far too weary to think about the ring or Snape or all that was in store for both of them come tomorrow. "It means, I think I'll have some of that cake now, if you're done tossing it on the floor."
Olivia moaned, turning away and slapping a piece of cake onto a plate defiantly. "Fine, don't tell me. Leave it up to my fevered imagination."
Lili couldn't help but grin and reached up, taking the cake, admiring the way the silver ring sparkled as she moved her hand.
And suddenly the sparkling became a searing, her arm tensing and buckling in agony, as if a fire had been sparked deep in her bones.
Her plate crashed to the floor in a horrible explosion of glass.
No, not now…it's too early…not until tomorrow…
She cradled her left arm, her heart shivering wildly against her stomach.
"Lili, are you okay?" Olivia was at her side, though, through the burning, Lili barely noticed.
"Y—yes. I'm fine." She swallowed, fingering the crook of her arm and trying to mask the abject fear racking her body. "It's--just my head. I think I'd really better lie down."
Olivia nodded. "Of course. Do you need anything?"
Yes. I need to disappear, to run away, to simply blink off the face of the earth for a bit. But I suppose you can't help me with that.
"No." Her voice was trembling, and suddenly she couldn't believe that just some minutes earlier she'd been smiling. "In fact, please just leave me to sleep for awhile."
She didn't wait for Olivia's reaction. She was stumbling blindly, arm still stiff from pain, blood so hot and loud in her ears that she could hear nothing but the fierce hammering of her heart.
This isn't right. Something is wrong. Horribly wrong.
She slammed the door to her room and immediately removed her mask and cloak from her locked wardrobe.
Closing it, she noticed the ring glittering on her finger. She couldn't wear it, but…somehow she couldn't cast it aside. She slid it in her robe pocket where it sat heavily next to the bezoar she kept for emergencies.
Tears burning in her eyes, muscles taut and aching with dread, she fitted the mask over her face, hiding it all behind a sheer, cold layer of black.
I wonder if I'll ever come back here, to this room. See Olivia again…
But the time for wondering was over. It was time to face the deepest fears in her heart…
She disappeared with a pop, and the room was still and silent.
*************************
A/N: Well, it's been awhile and for that I apologize. Once I got back to America, I seem to have gotten carried away with being in college once more. But, after three essay midterms, I found time to get some serious writing done. And it appears I'll have time to get the next chapter out soon enough, so as not to torture you guys here with a cliffhanger.
This chapter has yet to be really revised, so please excuse it if it seems abit rough, especially towards the end. I'll replace it with a more editted version soon (probably tomorrow), so if you want to wait, be my guest. I just felt I was holding out on yall too long...o:p>
Things are about to explode, folks. Stay tuned. Same bat time, same bat channel.
And thank you to Roz for really getting me in gear!
Tentative date for Chapter 7: Friday, October 18th. (perhaps earlier)
