A/N: Here's the next chapter. It's getting interesting... ;)

Chapter Seven: I Give Her to You

Three days passed and Jasna's condition got better – at least that could be said about her body. The internal and superficial wounds mended but her mind and magic refused to cooperate and heal according to Snape's expectations and plans. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy took great care of the helpless priestess he had to admit, even though they knew little of healing and especially not enough about wounded magical cores and souls.

Snape was more than satisfied with other aspects of healing, but no change even after three days and various potions later began to worry even his confident mind. Yes, her healing was expected to be long and difficult, but not impossible. They had to keep her dosed with a wide range of potions since the pain of the broken bond did not lessen with time and he could not let her get lost inside her violent magic. In the few moments of lucidity, she prayed in an old form of some Slavic language used in medieval times, but Lucius suspected it was an even older dialect. It seemed to help her, but the pain won every time.

In the end, Severus Snape had to admit to the Dark Lord that he was at his wits' end. The conversation was dangerous and awkward, but he came out of the room with limbs intact despite his failure. At least he gave the Dark Lord a puzzle to solve and there were not many that would interest the darkest of wizards. Thus Severus Snape remained one of the highest ranking Death Eaters despite having no idea what to do with her.

"Do you think the Dark Lord will find a solution soon?" asked Malfoy as they lingered outside the guestroom after another hard session. The blonde looked done in and Severus too had to admit that the raw magic she wielded was not something he wished to fight on a daily basis. His frequent absences from Hogwarts were already noticed and the atmosphere among the staff turned rebellious, which was something he could not ignore or condone this close to the start of term. Children would arrive in just a few days and he had to have complete control over the school by that time. But he was left weary after fighting down Jasna's magic and in no condition to fight yet another battle once he returned back. But they could not keep her sedated much longer for the same number of hours – it could kill her.

"Yes, he wants the Temple," answered Snape, "and he went through the Ministry archive in the Department of Mysteries, if I can believe Bella."

Before Malfoy could invite him to continue their conversation in his study with a glass of fine brandy, they heard the sound of apparition in the entrance of Malfoy Manor. Only one person announced his presence in this unmistakable way – it was lord Voldemort.

The two weary wizards exchanged a look and turned towards the stairs immediately. As they descended, Narcissa could be heard greeting the guest. But Voldemort was apparently not in the mood for pleasantries for he cut her mid-sentence with a question, "Severus is still here, is he not?"

"Yes, my Lord. I have just stabilised her," answered Severus Snape as he stepped down from the last stair and bowed.

"Excellent!" said Voldemort and other occupants of the room could feel a shiver run down their spine. It was never good news when the Dark Lord was happy or satisfied – it usually meant something disturbing was about to happen. And these three had enough of disturbing things the last few days.

Voldemort turned towards the room where the ritual had been performed and Snape caught up with him in few long strides that made his robes billow. He could not decide what to think of the destination and settled upon keeping his face blank. However, he really did not desire to set foot in that cursed place again.

"I have found out something quite interesting," said Voldemort as he opened the door with a wand-less spell that made the doors thump loudly against the walls. Snape said nothing, wincing internally at the noise and the ominous feeling he got from the room. Few wizards knew the power they wielded had a mind of its own, but one look inside the room would be enough to convince even the greatest sceptics.

Voldemort stood outside a moment longer as if savouring the change that could be felt at the threshold. When he stepped inside the magic swirling almost invisibly above the black circle rushed to the door to sniff at the intruder like a hungry dog. A few moments later it seemed to recognize Voldemort as a fellow dark being and settled down again – at least partially. But the malevolent feeling coming from the cloud of freed magic was not a good omen for anyone stepping inside its domain.

Snape was weary of trusting it and following the Dark Lord, not knowing if the magic would feel the same about him. It was a difficult situation – he had to be recognized as evil yet at the same time needed proof that he was able to redeem his soul and make up for his past mistakes. How could a man who pretended to be evil, but was good deep down, ever pass this test? What would happen if the magic rejected him? It was a living entity now, freed from the bonds that had pushed it deep into the earth, and as such highly unpredictable.

Snape cursed internally, fortifying his occlumentic shields, then stepping in too, his nerves a wreck. It was too early for this…

The magic rushed at him, coiling at his legs, catching the fabric of his coat and licking at the skin of his face. It was the most unsettling feeling he had ever experienced; it was like someone prodded at his most personal corners of his mind and taking no care to be gentle. He could feel his Mark tingle at the touch, feel invisible strings and bonds being stretched… the strain of keeping himself and his magic together left his breathing strained and sweat gather at his brow.

Dark child… he heard whispered in a woman's voice that struck a chord inside his heart. He had heard that voice in his dreams lately…

Poison… said a man and Snape could feel the icy touch of a potion he once prepared for Lord Voldemort. Yes, he had brewed poisons many times before, he admitted. But not lately, his mind added unwittingly.

Without intent… whispered the female again and Snape felt something had changed in the way magic felt about him, like something clicked in place. How he knew that, he was not sure, but the feeling he got from the cloud of raw magic changed – just a minute shift, barely discernable.

It felt like forever before the magic left him and settled like a guardian above the ink and spilled blood. The crackling coming from it settled down. Snape opened his eyes to look at the satisfied face of his master who had watched carefully. He was still alive and well. Severus Snape quickly pushed any thoughts aside and concentrated on the present; he would have time enough to ponder about the surprising event later - probably with a full glass of something stronger than black tea.

"Come, my trustworthy servant," said Voldemort as the door closed behind them with a snap, leaving the Malfoys in the hall.

Snape did not know what had just happened, but apparently the magic had let him enter. It was not clear if he was considered more evil than good (for he knew he would never be considered a white wizard), but Voldemort was satisfied with his performance. And that was the important thing.

"What have you found, my Lord?" he asked as if dealing with wild magic was everyday occurrence.

Voldemort smiled, "It seems there are things we never knew about the way priestesses are sworn into service. The records on the temple of Brigid were most informative." He went to the pool of ink and the glowing drops of the potion spilled around it. The overturned cup of blood still lay where it had been placed on the ground and Voldemort stepped over it on his inspection of the ritualistic circle. "Did you know that they pledge their lives, their bodies to the Temple in a ceremony similar to old feudal oaths wizards gave to their lords?"

"I did not, my Lord," answered Snape truthfully. He knew of the power priestesses wielded and their role in the present, but nothing of their culture and rituals. Whatever he had learned of their history and the role they played in the formation of the magical communities had been enough to fill him with respect and awe. But this was interesting…

"I have found a way to heal her," said Voldemort. "But I will need someone I can trust – someone that will corrupt her through a bond he will forge with her. Do I have such a man among the Death Eaters?" he asked.

"You have, my Lord," answered Snape. She would be furious, but if forcing her to pledge her obedience to him would keep her away from the Death Eaters and Voldemort, so be it. The Temple would be safe and he could fulfil Dumbledore's plan with her tucked away at Hogwarts.