Chapter Seventeen: The New Witch
The clock chimed full hour. Severus Snape knew it was time to return to his chambers and change the regular black robes for more formal attire, but he was loath to leave his work half-finished, so he ignored the passing of time for another fifteen minutes until he put down the quill with a feeling resembling satisfaction even if there were loads of papers waiting for his attention on the next day. He could feel tension in his neck from bending over the table too much, and knew from years of experience that his temper would most likely be quite short. He almost regretted leaving the ill witch to her own devices when she had agreed to accompany him. She could very well sour his mood further and he really had no desire to start the hellish school year on the wrong foot – not that he could start it on the 'right' either.
The silence that greeted him as he stepped through the door made him wonder what was going on in her room, but he was not curious enough to enter her chamber. A quick wash and a change of clothes later, he knocked with determination, already eying the big clock proclaiming they would be late if they tarried. Hearing an invitation, he moved in with an equally determined step – only to freeze when he saw her back and then the reflection in the mirror.
The candles illuminating the room made the silk dress, adorned with glass beads and a bit of lace down the central line, the edges of the sleeves and the hem, look like a vision from an old Russian court. The big oval spanning across her chest and shoulders, fitting snugly around her neck, was decorated with the same materials as the dress, bringing something regal to her appearance. But it was the white silk scarf wrapped around her face, covering the bun at the back of her neck, and a small headpiece keeping it in place that really made him speechless. The paleness of her cheeks did not speak of illness and fatigue, but appeared to proclaim almost noble heritage.
At his clearing of the throat, she turned around, facing him, the same regal look on her face as in the reflection he saw. Her brown eyes pierced his and he could feel how the mark of the Temple tingled at the connection. Whatever she had done, some sort of magic was woven in the assemble she chose and Severus was determined to find out what until the end of the evening. He did not like secrets – even less if they were tied to the Temple.
"So, do I look presentable enough?" she asked, a teasing tone in her voice. Jasna knew she would be the centre of attention among the British wizards and witches. She could hardly wait to see their faces, to bask in the power of admiration. She needed that, she needed to feel strong again and if making witches jealous was the only way at the time to achieve it - she would do it. It was against Temple regulations to stimulate negative emotions, but she wanted to feel good and to make an impression – it would save her a lot of trouble later on, she believed.
Severus nodded tersely in an answer, but dared not open his mouth – he was not completely sure whether he would be able to keep inside the words that would surely get her good mood down a few pegs. Self-satisfied witches were one of his pet peeves and he definitely did not like the feeling he got when she was in a good mood. It did always bode something unpleasant in the past. Yet, he did not wish to start the long evening with an argument. Therefore he stiffly offered his arm to her, intent on getting to the hall as quickly as possible and the introductions over with.
It was almost in no time at all that they stood before the side entrance to the Great hall. The walk was silent since both of them had been preparing for the meeting, donning perfected masks to hide their true emotions. There was still silence reigning in the corridors as they halted their progress, but the first sounds of human voices were heard in the hall. Minerva's voice was heard over the murmur of other professors' voices, loudly proclaiming she would not greet the 'witch'.
Both knew who was meant and the proclamation made Severus' lips twitch a bit. The witch in question was not amused and thought such rash judgements to be faulty, but was slowly preparing herself to become accustomed to hostility. It seemed the wizard was right after all and she would have absolutely no friends here. That made her heart clench a bit, but she squared her shoulders (a painful twinge reminding her to take it easy) and nudged Severus to move forward. He just quirked an eyebrow at her eagerness to step into the lion's den and purposefully opened the door before him. The conversations ceased as if someone had turned the sound to mute.
Jasna saw a small group gathered around a stern-looking witch who turned her cold eyes upon her companion. It was clear her husband too had no allies here or someone would have greeted them by now. An almost silent sound of irritation escaped her throat, making her companion squeeze her hand harder in an unmistakable warning.
"Good evening," he greeted, leading her closer to the table. Her eyes were drawn to the enchanted ceiling of the hall, so she almost missed how the eyes of the professors filled with hatred, animosity or distrust as they gazed at the Headmaster, but she could not miss the moment they turned to her. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop a comment from escaping. She did not like their instant dislike – not at all! What in Perun's name is going on here?! What have I done to you?
Various greetings were returned, but it was clear nobody thought this evening would turn out to bring any good and she almost started to believe it herself. Then the first person stepped closer to her in order to exchange greetings as custom demanded – it was the small professor Flitwick.
"Dobry vechar (Good evening)," he greeted her in her mother tongue, bowing before her. She had to blink to hide the tears that had sprung to her eyes. It felt so good to hear her language again, even if it was spoken with a slight accent. It was weeks since she had someone to talk to in Russian.
"Dobry vechar to you too," she replied, bowing her head since Severus still held her hand in a grip. She liked the small professor – she could see he was wary of Severus, but he was not so quick to dismiss her as a lost cause too.
From then on followed the introductions, none of them as kind as the first one. Minerva McGonagall's was almost frosty, but it did not even compare to the greeting she got from the two Death Eaters on staff. She could feel her skin crawl even when Severus led her to her seat at his left side. They were disgusting people and their insinuations, hidden taunts and hopes of corruption made her sick to her stomach. And they chose the right moment too – Severus was not at her side then, but he materialised soon after she managed to escape their attention, pale and slightly shaking. She was more than grateful for the seat and a glass of wine.
At least with the Head of Ravenclaw there was a possibility of cooperation. He seemed to know more than he let on, if his quick look at her right hand was what she thought it was – a search for the seal of the temple she served at. It had flickered to life for but a second when she touched the surface of the old table which practically brimmed with runes. It seemed he had waited for the moment, but the confirmation he got only made his eyebrows furrow with more questions. She knew he would not ask anything as long as she was in Severus' presence, but he would watch her closely. A priestess in the hands of Death Eaters – it must have scared him, but he nonetheless began a tentative conversation with her that was mostly centred on the school and his profession.
Severus did not seem to mind Flitwick, but he made sure to keep her away from the Carrows in such a subtle manner she was sure nobody noticed. Yet, she reminded herself, but he won't be able to do so for long. She feared them at the moment when she was wholly dependant on Snape to protect her, but she imagined the tables would turn soon enough on them. How the founders of the magical school have managed to hide their enchantments so deftly she didn't know, but the table was a magnificent piece of magic that made the castle cooperate, or not, with you. She was guaranteed almost total compliance and that put her in a better mood soon enough.
"Where did you receive your education?" asked Prof. Sinistra who seemed to follow Flitwick's example when Minerva and three other teachers left to fetch the children.
"I was taught about magical flora and fauna by my mother, but was given to a temple for further schooling by the age of six," Jasna truthfully replied. Schooling at temples started at the age of ten and even then children lived at home, so gasps were heard from the people who knew what that meant for her – she had been abandoned, disinherited. Why? Even she could not tell.
"I'm very sorry to hear this," said Prof. Flitwick who seemed to put more pieces of the puzzle together.
"Don't be – I was very happy there," she replied and took a sip of wine again. "I can't imagine my life being any different – the temple became my family and I was glad to join their ranks once I was old enough. It seemed the right thing to do," she replied.
"But now you belong to us," butted in Alecto with a smirk playing on her lips. "Our own pet priestess…" she mocked, knowing that Jasna could do nothing against her. The priestess clenched the goblet with a pale-knuckled hand, anger and humiliation boiling in her. How she loathed being a captive of such a disgusting group.
"Enough!" cried Snape and the Death Eater shrank back. "You will not speak to my wife in that tone!" he declared, but was cut short as the great doors opened and the first students streamed in – in a smaller number than any year before. He gave the woman one last angry look then concentrated on the students. The professors followed his example, Flitwick storing the additional information for later perusal, but believing there was more at large than he thought.
Jasna just hoped the evening would go by quickly or she would be seriously tempted to do something foolish to get away.
A/N: Sorry for the delay - I had to translate a few things these days, so I haven't managed to post thins in a while... I feel quite guilty for it...