A/N: Sorry for the really long delay in posting - my life has been a mess for two months strait. I do believe I've got it solved now (knocks three times on the desk). I hope I'll be updating every week from this day on, so that I'll keep my faithful readers happy and satisfied.

I'm really curious what you think of the new chapter even if it is not that long. :D

Chapter Sixteen: Before the Welcoming Feast

Severus Snape looked at the pale, but visibly satisfied witch. She was aggravatingly stubborn, so she went out of bed the next day and now sat in the great armchair, basking in the warm sunlight streaming through the window in the Headmaster's living room. She looked far better than the previous day, so he wondered if their bond was not speeding on the healing. But he was not curious enough to ask, so Jasna kept her secrets. For now.

He was leaning with crossed arms by the door and observing her. Her long hair was left free, looking better after a good wash and a bit of grooming, but it still lacked the lustre he knew women's hair usually held. She was far too pale too, but since he had seen colour on her cheeks only when her soul was smothering in rage, he dismissed any concern he could have felt at her pallor.

"Tonight, there is a welcoming feast for the students and teachers of Hogwarts," he informed her from his position. "As my new wife you are expected to be present, but we can postpone the inevitable meeting with my staff until a later date…"

"From your tone, I understand, you are not keen on the meeting," Jasna remarked. She found it funny how he could tell so much with no words at all – or that she was able to read him so well all of a sudden. She had seen him after the meeting with his staff and knew what consequences the talk had on his temper. She had a feeling she would have found it easy to go on splendidly with the staff, if the circumstances were not such to demand she keep her husband alive and in good humour. The thought made her sigh silently to herself. She had absolutely no friends here and would be unable to make new ones since there was that Voldemort problem hanging around her neck, slowly squeezing her throat.

Severus Snape frowned at her, but even if she did not see his face, she heard the censure in his words "I would say they won't accept you with open arms… and I don't need to doctor you longer than necessary as it is," he said with a nasty bite. He implied that he would let her fend for herself and not play the protective husband, which was fine to her. She did not need him – at least not yet.

Jasna shook her head and turned it to the left to look at him, "I'll stay out of your battles and you out of mine - just as promised."

"They won't stay out of your hair…no matter what I say or do," he remarked with cold eyes, but the remark told her she could find it harder to achieve her goals with a dozen of spies following her every step. She knew very well what they already thought of her simply because she was married to a Death Eater, but she could not tell them she was a prisoner – not if she wished to live. She cursed the necessary charade she had to play.

Jasna sighed softly and asked him with a voice tinged with weariness of her physical condition, "Are there any things I should be aware of? Rules, instructions, address, that are important?"

He nodded and explained some particularities of his staff, warning her about the Yaxleys, but she knew very well who would be a danger to her. If in doubt, she could always read him to get a feel of a situation. He was a closed man, but a few things betrayed him nonetheless. She was more apprehensive about the food and the atmosphere. How would children react to seeing a man who had murdered the previous Headmaster taking over the post? She did not have a good feeling about it and what that would mean for her. Fortunately, she had the castle and the runes on her side – she could deal with children easily enough – it was the staff which could turn out to be the problem.

Severus was concerned about the feast too. He knew what her views on dark magic and injustices were. What acting skills she had were not likely to fool anyone for long and sooner or later people would notice she was as white as it can get. And she knew of his betrayal – a danger on its own despite her good skills in warding her mind. She would be hauled before the Dark Lord soon enough again, he suspected.

Jasna's thoughts were following the same line and reasoning as his, but they were both blissfully unaware how alike they were in certain aspects. None of them trusted the other and both were determined to get what they desired; she a way back home and into the Temple, he atonement for past mistakes and peace. But their lives were now entwined with magical cords that were hard to be separated ever again – and magic itself had a will of its own. The wizard and witch who were now pawns in a game of power would have to learn to cooperate or face defeat. They both resented the idea and were determined to become masters of their own fate one way or the other – especially Severus Snape felt her presence to be a burden, while the priestess was far more pragmatic.

"As you have already mentioned the welcoming feast, I am in need of new robes," she informed him. She knew her usual garments would be inappropriate, but she was not prepared to be dressed up like an English witch when she was none. She had to make it clear she was different and therefore not to be tossed in the same Death Eater category. "I would like to have something to represent my home country," she told him, daring him with her eyes to disagree.

Severus quirked an eyebrow at her, "Let the house-elves supply you with appropriate attire," he said coldly and turned from the room. He really had no time to deal with robes – and the witch either.

Jasna just sighed and once again closed her eyes, letting the magic of the castle flow through her, basking in the comforting hold it had on her. She was feeling slightly angry at his dismissal, but put him out of her mind soon enough. She could already feel how change was coming to the school, how the energies were slowly moulding into something else with each mile the students came closer. New wards were erected, slumbering parts of the castle being awoken… and it was a fascinating thing to observe – so much that she could almost forget about her healing and the dire need of robes she was in.

"Better start now, than be late afterwards…" she muttered, knowing how much work had to be done, and summoned a house-elf that has been delegated to her. A trembling creature manifested beside her chair, greeting her in a high-pitched voice that fairly reeked with fear. Jasna once again had to wonder what those wizards were doing to the poor creatures to make them so afraid. She was fairly sure that the reputation of being a Death Eater's wife was already doing its damage, but she was loath to act the part to keep the cover. The elves won't talk – she was sure of it.

"Do you have dark blue silk or cotton in the castle? Enough for a dress?" she asked not unkindly, knowing she would achieve more when acting in control as the etiquette of the house-elves demanded. They did love to serve.

"Yes, mistress…" squeaked the house-elf, bowing many times so that its ears flapped against one side of its face then the other. "How may Tatty serve?"

"Bring me blue silk – enough for a witch's dress," she ordered. "I will also need some white ribbon and a small pot of glass beads, some white silk too… what lace you have, but none made by magic. Everything has to be hand-made – is that clear?"

"Yes, mistress… immediately, mistress," was the reply before the small creature disappeared for a few minutes, returning with more than enough to make three dresses. Jasna had to shake her head, but she thanked the elf for its prompt service, the being looking at her with wide eyes before it disappeared. When she unrolled the bundles, she found beautiful patterned cloth of good quality. No doubt, these were very expensive and she had to wonder why they even had it in the castle in the first place.

"Never mind that…" she muttered.

Even though she was not a priestess anymore, she was prepared to uphold the traditions and make her dress by herself. Some magic was allowed, but the stitches had to be made by hand. Since she knew how much she was capable of doing, she had decided upon a traditional Russian dress or something that would look like one – she did have only a few hours available. She will pull it over her everyday set of robes and still look presentable enough since the cloth was of good quality.

She smoothed her hand over it, getting the feel of the material before deciding which one to use. White ribbons, silver needles and silk threads were stored in a wooden box and she gladly took them out. It was just as she had it in mind – not too elaborate, but still formal enough for her taste. However, she had full intentions of donning her usual garbs as soon as possible. She would not hide her priestess status for long – just until she was healed again.

"Which just might not happen as soon as I would like…" she muttered, angry at the wizard she was bound to. He really did not understand how old magic worked at all. "I'll teach you eventually – you'll see…" she muttered then slowly moved into a comfortable position to start with her work.

After summoning a piece of parchment and a quill, she jotted down the numbers she remembered. Thinking about the design a bit and changing a few things, she was ready to start. Her room's door closed with a decisive click as soon as the scissors came to life and began to cut the cloth into appropriate shape.

Severus wouldn't know what hit him when he'll come to pick her up.