One wish alone have I

Chapter 5
Trapped

If Snape got all the bad luck he could get that night, I, on the contrary, was extremely lucky. Should have anybody else than Ivantie entered Oriana’s room, I would have known an even more terrible fate. Ivantie knew Andrei; he had accompanied me on a few meetings in the mountains, so he recognised him immediately.

It took all my last bits of self-control to get up and help Ivantie, but I successfully mended Andrei’s broken bones and brought him back to consciousness. Other than the fracture, the cuts on his lips and the usual scars left from the lycanthropy transformation, he was ok. Physically, at least. Poor Andrei was very shaken about his first voluntary attempt at resisting the lycanthropy attack, even more when he saw the remains of Snape’s ripped up sleeves next to him on the floor.

Unfortunately, we did not have time to explain what had happened during the few minutes when he had lost contact with me –and with his human persona. Others might have heard my screams and he would have been as good as dead if they had ever found him. Luckily, he was able to summon up enough magical resources to Disapparate back to Bistrita-Nasaud, with the promise that we would meet the following night in the Calimani Mountains for a more elaborate account of the events. I think that, in my wound-up state, I must have told him “It’s not your fault” at least a dozen times before he left. I guess I wanted to reassure myself, too…

Ivantie went to Snape immediately after Andrei’s departure. He examined his left arm carefully.

“It’s the Dark Mark, Ivan, I saw it very clearly, there’s no doubt about it,” I said, my voice creaking with disgust.

“I know, Antanasia,” he said, calmly. “You, of all cainites in this clan, are probably the only one who would recognise it even with your eyes closed. I am only checking for bite marks.”

“He did not have any. We both checked.”

“I know, but you two were in shock when you did. It’s better to make sure, in case we find ourselves with an additional problem in a couple of weeks, at full moon.”

“Splendid! That would really take the cake!” I retorted, ironically.

“Do you feel any pain in your arm?” he asked him, still staying very calm.

Snape shook his head, answering that he did not.

“Good. You do not have any bite marks. Andrei only scratched your sleeves. Do you feel pain anywhere else?”

That time, he did not answer. He simply turned his head and resolutely looked at the ceiling.

“Professor Snape, I doubt you made the switch from a standing position to lying on the floor on your own.”

“Ivan… I threw him across the room… I lost my self-control in anger…” I explained, quietly.

“That is quite a leap she made you do there, Snape. I bet the landing was far from being smooth. Are you sure you do not feel any pain?”

He kept looking at the ceiling. He did not even blink.

Ivantie sighed in disappointment and started to check Snape’s physical state. He first took care to undo the first buttons of his frock coat and shirt, in order to help him breathe more easily. His breathing still seemed a bit painful, but it was slowly getting back to normal. As Ivantie moved him on his side to palpate his limbs and back, looking for possible fractures, I slowly moved closer. I saw that my grip had been quite brutal. Several of my fingers had left a red mark on the skin of his throat; some of my nails had even scratched his neck as I had thrown him away. The scratches looked deep, he was still bleeding. I looked at my right hand and saw, to my discomfort, that a small amount of his blood had dried on the tips of my fingers and under my nails. I hurriedly scratched it off, feeling as much disgusted by his blood soiling my skin as I was disgusted by my blunt outburst of rage.

“He does not seem to have broken anything during his fall.” Ivantie said, once he was satisfied by his check-up. “You will get away with quite a few bruises, though,” he informed him.

Snape still looked at the ceiling, remaining perfectly quiet. Ivantie frowned worrisomely.

“I hope he is not concussed. He seems a little confused. I will remove the ropes from his mouth, at least.”

“Hey, wait a minute! He could call for his wand! Do we really have to untie his mouth, Ivan?”

“I want to make sure he does not have a concussion; I need to interrogate him, for that. You know that we will have to question him anyway, Antanasia,” he argued, firmly.

“Ok, but let me try to question him mentally first,” I suggested.

Ivantie grabbed Snape around his torso and dragged him against the wall, so he could sit more comfortably. He moved aside to let me come closer. Snape was sitting straight and focused all his attention on my legs, from the knee down.

“Snape, look up,” I said, sharply.

He kept looking straight in front of him.

“Snape! I told you to look up!” I repeated, in a more threatening tone.

His eyes did not move. On the other hand, one of his eyebrows rose up. I was about to repeat my question once again, on a more brutal tone, when Ivantie stopped me.

“Antanasia… look at your knees…” he said, with concern in his voice.

I looked down. Both of my knees had been deeply cut during my fall in the stairs and they were bleeding. When I saw this, a burning pain also hit me. I winced, but kept Ivantie away with a quick nod of my head.

“Now, for the last time, will you look up?” I hissed.

He simply huffed and, leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes. I understood that he would not let me in, eyes open or not. After all, I preferred not to go there. There was the risk of bumping against memories involving me and I wanted to forget these, at that moment. There was also the risk of him finding his way into my mind during my attempts an I did not want that either, especially given the memories that haunted it after I had seen the Dark Mark.

“Fine,” I said, picking up his wand on the floor. “I will untie him. But if I do not like what I hear, the ropes get back around his mouth, deal?”

“You’ve got a deal,” said Ivantie.

I waved my hand and the ropes around Snape’s mouth vanished.

“Can you tell me your name?” asked Ivantie, before I could say anything.

He looked up to him, with an expression of pure boredom and exhaustion on his face that deepened the two vertical lines falling on each side of his mouth.

“I am fine, I am not concussed. I can tell you my name, your name, her name and even her husband’s name, for that matter,” he answered, arrogantly.

I lost it once again. I think he knew that he had called for it even before my hand met his face, because he looked straight at me, with a defiant glimmer in his eyes. He was waiting for the hit and even had an evil fun while doing so. His lips had not even completed their sneer when I shot the ropes back around his mouth. I slowly brought my face to his, feeling the burst of anger lengthen my canines and colour my eyes.

“Should you make the enormous mistake to do the latter again, Snape, the consequences would be far, far worse than a mere slap. You can count on me for that one,” I said in a very low voice, articulating every single word very clearly.

He kept looking at me with the same defiant glare. I spat on his face in loathing and walked back, as slowly as I had approached. I looked at Ivantie, who seemed torn between sorrow and disappointment. In his eyes, I saw that he fully shared my pain. Nevertheless, I also saw determination: he would not let me hit Snape again. As I write this, I become even more aware of the extent of Ivantie’s love. You must understand that such type of violence was extremely rare, coming from me. To be honest, I am ashamed that I went to these lengths with the wizard immediately after I had unmasked him. But Ivantie... his eyes had watched me lose my temper disgracefully and yet showed the same warmth, the same care and the same forgiveness as ever. I do not know if the value of souls can be calculated, but at least when it comes to forgiveness, Ivantie is a better soul than I am.

I do not remember much about the minutes that followed. I must have only thanked Ivantie and left, leaving the wizard in his hands. I guess the mere presence of Snape drained my energies and emotions too much, so I wanted to be as far as I could from him. What I do remember is that I found myself lying wide-awake in my coffin, fully dressed. I was in a kind of second state, immersed in a totally blank daydream. I do not know how long it lasted. All I know is that it was not dawn yet when someone came knocking at my door. I did not seem to react quickly enough, because the knocks became louder and more insistent. I finally sat in my coffin and swung my legs out. I winced again and moaned in pain.

“Come in!” I said, moodily.

“Antanasia, you should go to your lab at once. I was passing by when I... what the bloody hell happened to your knees? Did the scumbag beat you up?” said Marcela in one breath, walking with quick and steady steps towards me.

“No, I did that all by myself, like a big girl. I’m afraid that I just forgot to take care of it. I’m sure it looks worse than it is. I will find what I need in my lab. What scumbag are you talking about?” I asked, a bit confused.

“The Death Eater!” she said, emotionally. “Ivantie said you’re the one who captured him.”

“He did?” I asked, leaning on Marcela’s shoulder to get down my coffin.

I started to get really nervous. It just hit me that Ivantie and I had not agreed on a common version of the story about Snape’s capture. I chose to safely check first.

“How did he say I did it? Ivantie always exaggerates about everything...”

“He said that you and the wizard met accidentally on the third floor and that you had a vision of some kind. An accidental Legilimency link to his mind, I think that is what he said. Anyway, he said that you saw the Dark Mark in your mind and started to confront the wizard, that he denied everything and that your argument got rather aggressive until you managed to see for yourself and ripped his left sleeves.”

“And I guess he told you about the fight that followed.”

“Yes. He said you got pretty... emotional when you saw the Mark. Not that he blamed you, though. I can imagine how it must have felt. I would have drunk him dry if I had been at your place,” she ardently said.

“You know what, the thought did not even cross my mind. I was far too disgusted for that,” I added, thoughtfully.

“What about your knees?” she asked, still helping me as we walked to the door.

“Oh, I fell... after I tied the wizard up, I went to Oriana’s room for some time alone. I just did not want to see his face anymore. And I fell down on the pedestal’s granite stairs,” I explained, wishing hard that I would have the chance to talk to Ivantie before he accounted for my injuries with a different story.

“Will you be ok to walk to your lab?”

“Don’t worry. It’s on this floor; I will not have to take any stairs; that will make it easier. It’s coming back to normal as we speak, I just needed to move a little,” I said, in a reassuring tone. “What did you want to tell me about my lab anyway?”

“Yes! You’re lab! I passed by the door a few minutes ago and there was thick smoke escaping from under the door. I tried to go in, but the damn door just wouldn’t open. All the curses I tried only seemed to make it worse!”

I could not help but smile at Marcela’s frustration.

“This evening, I took special care to lock it with the best and oldest spells I knew. I was afraid that the wizard might have wanted to break in.”

“In any case, you’d better hurry! The whole room seems to be burning down!”

“It’s probably just a potion. And now that I think about it, I might just know which one,” I said, very annoyed.

“Need any help?” she asked.

Unable to decide if I wanted company or not, I accepted her offer. As we arrived to my lab door, there was indeed a thick yellowish smoke coming out from under the door. The smell was unmistakably that of the Counter-Photodermatitis potion. I had quite a hard time breaking the locking spells. The corridor was starting to be filled with smoke and I could barely see where to aim to, not to mention a difficulty to breathe and a very nasty cough. After a few minutes, however, we made our way in and we opened all the windows.

I vanished the revolving fire from under the cauldron. My nose had informed me right. The Counter-Photodermatitis potion had burned again, except this time, it was fifty percent ruined. As I spilled the potion up, I saw the same brownish, thick liquid. However, one thing had changed, in addition of the proportion that was ruined. The texture was thicker and amazingly homogenous. No matter how close I looked or how differently I spilled it, I could not find the smallest trace of a lump. I put the potion back in the cauldron and sniggered.

“What’s so funny?” Marcela asked, her voice still a bit raucous because of the smoke.

“Well, the wizard helped me make this potion. He gave me his… expert advice,” I explained, caricaturing his haughty tone. “Guess what the original problem was?”

“You tell me.”

“It kept burning down! This time, not only did it burn more, it burned three times faster! And you know what the best part is?” I added, with a strange mounting bitterness in my voice.

“Go ahead.”

“The old potion was too heterogeneous. He helped me fix that problem wonderfully. That version is so smooth that you could sip it all down with a straw!” I explained, each word flowing like acid out of my mouth.

“I see,” she commented, obviously not sharing my irritable amusement.

“Who the heck needs a sun-blocking smoothie, huh?” I continued. “You tell me! I thought we were making potions here, not Muggle cuisine!”

She did not say anything.

“So when you guys interrogate that hypocrite, why don’t you check if he’s not in fact Hogwart’s chef? For a Potions Master, he proved to be quite disappointing!” I sneered, tossing the cauldron angrily in its usual corner, on the counter.

“Consider it done,” she answered jokingly, with a touch of embarrassment in her voice.

I spent a few minutes cleaning the mess that had splashed the walls when the cauldron had landed roughly on the counter.

“I’ll be fine, now, Marcela,” I said, after a while, reassuringly, feeling that she seemed eager to leave. “I guess you have more important things to do than listen to an old Potions Mistress rambling on about her incompetence.”

She said nothing, but walked to me and pressed me into her arms. That gesture told me a lot about Marcela’s affection and it really touched me. But as I felt some tears starting to burn their way out of my eyes, I gently broke her embrace and told her, in a strangled voice:

“Really, I’ll be fine. Out you go! Thanks for your help.”

“I’ll see you later,” she replied, with her usual rough cheerfulness. “And I’ll keep Marilena away for the rest of the night, ok?”

I smiled. I could only imagine in what state Marilena was at that moment and I certainly did not want to be in the same room. I definitely needed some time alone, Marcela was right. With a last pressure of her hand against my back, she left.

I felt so tired! My past, recent and ancient, weighed so much upon my shoulders! I had the impression that, if I stayed where I stood, I would soon be crushed under the weight and disappear through the floor, falling in a never-ending abyss. With slow and heavy steps, limping slightly, I reached one of my cupboards and retrieved the potions I needed to take care of my knees. I sat on my favourite, old armchair and poured the appropriate liquids on my wounds. It fumed and bubbled, but that was only a good sign. It would prevent further infection. Once clean, the wounds looked a bit better, but still worse than I expected. I had scratched most of the skin on my knees, but not beyond. The rest of my skin, on the front of my legs, showed many bruises, in various shades of blue and yellow.

It was the least of my worries.

I leaned back in the chair and drifted away in daydream. Except that time, it was not as blank as it had been. I was angry, but that type of anger was new. It was not the blunt outburst of rage that had submerged every fibre of my being a few hours before. That time, I was able to keep a cool, very cool intellect. My first impression about the wizard had not betrayed me. He was a despicable individual. I had smelled danger, battle and blood as he approached from Zaharia and had it been the only sign, it should have sufficed to keep me in a distrustful state of mind.

But it had not. It had not, and I had even welcomed his presence in some of the most sacred places I cherished! I had even come to a point where I looked for it, wished for it! I had reassured my Lady, telling her that the wizard only needed some time! The first wave of anger was definitely directed towards me. But I was not the type of person who needlessly dwelled on such thoughts. Feeling guilty for past mistakes was not my cup of tea. Period.

I had been foolish. I would not be in the future. I first decided that I needed time on my own. No more insipid meals with the rest of the castle’s inhabitants. I would feed alone for a while. They would not miss my presence much anyway, especially if I still provided them with the usual blood potions.

“Speaking of which, no more useless trials at potions,” I thought.

Research could wait. It needed intellectual commitment and I could not give it at the time. I needed long conversations with the Great Dragon, I needed Transylvania’s rivers and mountains. In times like this, those three sources of wisdom were the only things left for me to believe in.

I resolutely got up and, with a large wave of my hand, all the fires under the cauldrons vanished at once. One by one, I took the cauldrons and emptied them in a large stone basin between two cupboards. A gargoyle, pouring icy cold water in the basin, washed the results of days, sometimes weeks of work. I did not care.

Soon, all that was left was the ruined Counter-Photodermatitis potion. I looked at it for long minutes, but finally decided to leave it there. I turned around and raised a hand:

“Scourgify!”

A white foam appeared in each cauldron and travelled everywhere inside them, cleaning the last remains of my efforts. I was storing them on the shelves under the table when Ivantie entered the room.

“Hi!” I said, in a strangely energetic voice, still resolutely storing the cauldrons where they belonged.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, in a very serious tone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning up, I think that’s very obvious!” I answered, still not looking at him.

“So I see, but why are you throwing everything away like that?”

“It was useless crap anyway. It was leading me nowhere, so I thought it best to get rid of it.”

“But I thought you felt close to find the right temperature for the anti-stunning formula? Didn’t it take five weeks of simmering to be ready?”

“Look! I know what I’m doing, ok? If you’re not happy with it, why don’t you remember taking care of your own business, Ivan?” I exploded, turning towards him.

Ivantie knew me too well to take my answer as an insult. Searching for a way to change the conversation, he looked down and whistled.

“You really did not miss yourself with those stairs.”

“Yep! I’m sure these legs would make me win the Miss Transylvania pageant with flying colours!” I joked, laughing with a high-pitched and creaky voice that was very unlike my own.

Ivantie did not laugh. He did not even move.

“Do you want to sit down, Antanasia?” he asked, in a concerned tone.

“Thanks, I’m fine! I have some cleaning to do,” I said, turning back to my cauldrons.

“I want to talk to you, Tasia. Can we sit down?” he insisted, with a much smoother voice.

I sighed in exasperation and, casting a last cleaning spell at the table, I quickly walked to my armchair and slouched in it. Ivantie calmly draw a chair close to me and sat, bending forward, leaning his forearms against his thighs. We remained silent for a few minutes. I appreciated his patience. In a long sigh, I held out my left arm and took his large, muscled hand in mine.

“I’m sorry,” I said, in a much calmer tone. “I should not have talked to you like I did. I don’t know which way to turn! I don’t know what reaction really fits with my feelings at the moment.”

“I understand, I feel the same, Antanasia,” he said, frowning in an empathic way.

“Then that is one more reason for you not to deserve such a reaction from me.”

“Don’t worry about that. Don’t you want to hear about what happened after you left?”

“Yes, of course I do. Go ahead.” I said, in a serious voice.

“I was about to go fetch Niculaie when I realised that he would ask questions if he saw that Snape had been captured in Oriana’s room. Nobody goes there anymore, except for the solstice celebrations. I also realised that, because Snape had seen Andrei, he might have denounced your activities. I figured that he did not know the gravity of the impact his words would have, if he spoke, as he was probably not familiar with that part of the clan’s rules.”

“That was very wise of you to think of these details. What did you do about it?”

“The only possible thing. I informed him. I told him that, should he speak to anybody else about Andrei, you would undoubtedly be sentenced to death and executed the following night.”

“What did he say about it?”

“Nothing. He looked at me, though; all the time I explained the situation. But he did not show any intention to denounce you… nor the contrary.”

“Charming.” I said, feeling a sudden wave of fear creep in my stomach as Ivantie’s last words resounded in my head.

“He would have no reason whatsoever to turn you in, Antanasia. It would bring him absolutely nothing. And in fact, so far, he did not say a word about it.”

“So far…” I repeated, unable to reassure myself. “The possibility is still there, Ivan. I bet you it would amuse him to turn me in even, especially, without a valuable reason.”

“We shall see to that later, Antanasia. He seems quite preoccupied with his own skin at the moment.”

“He has all reasons to be,” I said, ominously. “What happened next?”

“I dragged him outside the room and made him sit in the corridor. Nobody had heard the commotion; they were still mostly outside in the garden or busy with other activities in the eastern part of the castle. I mentally fetched Niculaie and he arrived at once, along with Valeriu and Marcela. I barely had time to make up a plausible story before they reached us.”

“Marcela told me about it. I think Marilena will buy it; I told her about the Legilimency oddities I have experienced with the wizard.”

“And I bet that from now on, everybody will watch for their sleeves whenever you’re around… just in case,” he taunted.

It was totally irrelevant to the conversation, but very much like Ivantie’s humour. I giggled. It was good to feel a genuine smile on my lips… and it was good for him to see it too.

“What did you do with him?” I asked, more seriously.

“Niculaie and Valeriu took him to the dungeon. Manu militari, must I say. They were not very happy about what I told them, understandably. He is still there; Valeriu is guarding him, I think.”

“Who alerted Marilena?”

“I did. Needless to say that she was beside herself with anger. And disappointment, if you ask me. She seemed to be quite… hungry towards the wizard this evening. She went straight to the dungeon and tried to question him. He did not say a single word. Not even when she tried her hypnotic skills on him. But she was far too distressed to reach the full extent of her powers and it failed.”

“It will fail for a while, in my opinion. The mind of that man has a very, very thick carapace. With time, she would probably be capable of humiliating him by forcing him into degrading tasks, but access his mind, I doubt it.”

“She has reached that kind of conclusion too, unfortunately,” Ivantie added, apologetically. “She asked me to inform you that you will be the one to interrogate him, if other… means fail to make him speak.”

I shuddered. The mere thought of the task felt as horrible as the fate the wizard would meet very soon.

“Let’s hope that he will break down faster than I expect,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “In any case, Marilena will allow the others some time to soften his resistance. She does not expect me to do it right now?”

“No. I convinced her that you needed a break after tonight’s events. I said that you really needed a clear and strong mind before you made an attempt, to protect yourself as much as Zaharia’s interests.”

“Thank you for that, Ivan.”

“She has sent owls to all the elders of the clan. We will meet first thing tomorrow evening to decide which course of actions will be the best.”

“That’s soon. Is the wizard such a threat?”

“Not the wizard, but Voldemort is. Marilena first thought to send an owl to Albus Dumbledore and inquire about the true allegiance of his messenger. But no matter if Dumbledore is aware of Snape’s link to Voldemort or not, his answer would be the same. He would deny having anything to do with a Death Eater spying on us for Voldemort, which is probably the truth. That would not help us much.”

“Right.”

“And you must realise that your discovery has really thrown us in hot water, not that anybody blames you. Quite the opposite. But as things are, we cannot send him back to Dumbledore. If he is in fact innocent, we would risk a political conflict with the Order of the Phoenix and Marilena really wants to avoid that. If he is really working for Voldemort, then who knows what information he would tell him, given our past secret alliance with the Order. That would mean risking an even worse conflict. Either way, we’re doomed! The wizard just cannot leave Zaharia.”

“Not until he informs us about the real and genuine reason for his presence here.”

“Exactly.”

“Then you’re right. We’re doomed,” I said, pessimistically. “Marilena cannot have him executed either. The risks would be the same. I have made a political hostage out of him.”

“In a way,” he agreed. “At least, nothing will happen until tomorrow evening. And after that, we’ll see.”

“What about his knowledge of Andrei?”

“I will manage to stay closely informed about what happens in the dungeon. If he says anything, I will probably be one of the firsts to know. That will give you time to escape if things get too dangerous for you.”

“I am getting a bit too experienced in those kinds of things…” I murmured darkly.

“Tasia, it would be different, this time,” he replied, taking my hand in his.

“Indeed. This time, nobody would be waiting for me at the end of the road.”

************

The elders met the following evening, in the ballroom. Being the one who had captured Snape and given the rather peculiar-though-short relationship I had shared with him, I was invited to join the group. Ivantie was there, of course, faithfully sitting next to me.

All the elders answered Marilena’s call and had managed to come to the castle despite such a short notice. You see, the clan of Zaharia has always maintained a good reputation. During Horatiu’s reign, this reputation has been rather one of intellectual endeavour, though his military skills were also outstanding. Marilena’s sovereignty more focused on the latter. However, her power did not rely as much as before on military conquests. With the natural evolution of our kind through the first centuries of her reign, she gained in maturity and was less prone to declare war. She slowly mastered the art of political negotiation and the wars became more seldom.

Her greatest victory was in 1941, when she successfully integrated the clan leaders in Moldova, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Poland and Hungary to Zaharia’s clan. They had been seduced by Marilena’s views on a united clan, which still gave them enough power and land to stop territorial wars between our countries. But Marilena was, and still is, a sly minx. One by one, she attracted them to her coffin. One by one, they complied with her seductive requests, thinking they were the only one to have the restricted access to the Lady’s intimacy. One by one, they took the blood oath, giving her a formidable influence that went far beyond the apparent control they had kept after the unification. I can still see Ivantie’s face as he told us about Marilena’s conquests at the time. Merlin! Did we laugh about the silliness of leaders’ pride! He even made a few special trips to Marseille to bring us fresh news when she really outdid herself.

There was one exception to the rule, as there always is. Countess Valerica, the eldest of the two leaders in Poland, undoubtedly gave in to Marilena’s charms, but she did not lose her mind to the point of taking the oath. Marilena did not appreciate her refusal, obviously. As a result, she always kept a particularly close watch on Valerica’s activities. But it did not go further than surveillance, because the Countess and Ivantie were still very fond of each other, which reassured Marilena about Valerica’s allegiance. I, like Ivantie, love the Countess very much and I always have a great pleasure to see her. We have a lot in common and she has brought me comfort and advice on countless occasions.

Valerica was sitting on Ivantie’s right during that meeting. From where I was, I could fully sense the sexual tension between them. There was this strange electricity in the air that could mean only one thing: Ivantie’s resting room door would be locked behind them as soon as the meeting would be over… and his natural liveliness would be at least doubled for the next few days. Ivantie got a glimpse of my smile and winked. My senses had informed me right once again.

After Marilena exposed the recent events to the assembly, most of them started to talk animatedly, sharing each other’s reactions and opinions. Kerecsen was one of them. He was Hungarian, about 350 years old. He was barely an elder when he found himself at the head of what was then his clan. Like most young and inexperienced leaders, he had soon felt overwhelmed by his task and had sought Marilena’s advice for years. He trusted her to the point that malicious gossips whispered that the Lady’s personal lands went beyond Transylvania and extended to its western neighbour…

Kerecsen is a name that means “eagle” and it fit him very well. He was, as always, splendid that night. He was very tall and sturdy, had long and straight black hair, a round, full face that gave his expressions the playfulness of a child, pale green eyes, thin lips, small pointy nose, but a voluntary chin. And he was a terrific lover. Marilena had not missed the chance to let me know that she agreed when, something like seventy years after our brief but incredibly intense love affair, she had shared his coffin and had learned about our past relationship. But I see that I dwell on old stories, my dear, so let me go back to more recent ones.

Kerecsen spoke first, in the animated and dramatic fashion that I had always seen him display. He suggested that we keep the wizard prisoner and interrogate him by any means necessary until we would be satisfied by his answers. Sandor, his counterpart in Moldova, fully shared his opinion. He even suggested that we go as far as performing the Embrace on the wizard and accept him as a new member in the clan, just to make sure that he would defend our best interests. Most of the assembly reacted pretty strongly to the idea. Some were totally in favor of a rebirth, finding it to be a quicker option, others found it completely irresponsible and, to a certain point, barbaric. Ivantie, Valerica and I were probably those who militated the most energetically against such a course of actions. We finally made our point, arguing that the Embrace had never been performed on an emissary for political gains and that its impact on the good relations we shared with England would surely put them at great risk.

I will not waste time describing the long and trying hours of sterile discussions that followed. Basically, the elders could not find any course of action that would not risk political tensions, other than the basic notion of managing to know the wizard’s allegiance and react accordingly. I was asked to prepare Veritaserum. I informed them that it would take a full moon cycle to be ready, which corresponded to a wait of seven weeks, as the next cycle would only begin three weeks later. Seven weeks then became the timeline during which all other attempts would be made to obtain the wizard’s collaboration. Despite Ivantie’s efforts, fully backed by Valerica and Eliska, from Bulgaria, he could not obtain better imprisonment conditions for Snape. To be frank, I did not argue for that one, still very much taken by my resentment towards him. Fortunately, that clause was left open at the end of the meeting, in case the wizard’s cooperation would change.

It did not change. For three whole weeks, he remained silent. And tied to his chair most of the time. And fed only once a day (or so), when Ivantie found the time to go, on his own initiative, in the mountains to hunt some rabbit or bird and pick some fruits for Snape to eat. After a week and a half of this routine, he convinced me to prepare a potion that would nourish him better, as he started to look dangerously deprived of his basic nutritional needs. I did make that potion… conveniently forgetting to cover its awful taste with some fruit puree or extract. Oops.

Each day, I received reports of the night’s events, either by Marcela, Ivantie or Cami. Marilena, still bitterly disappointed that her original seduction plans had been disrupted, had taken her revenge by sending Niculaie and Valeriu for the first interrogation sessions. I shuddered then and I shudder even more now at the things that happened in the dungeon while these two were in charge. They mistreated him so bad that it took over a week for his face to become less swollen and allow him to see, not to mention the broken jaw, ribs and nose. The nourishing potion was particularly appropriated, during that period, though I sincerely doubt that it brought him any comfort. That was not the point anyway.

When Marilena saw that two weeks of suffering, deprivation and verbal threats did not break the wizard’s silence, she tried the opposite. To Ivantie’s relief, Cami, as sweet and gentle as a kitten, was sent to the dungeon to take care of the wizard’s injuries and general hygiene, which had reached a pitiable state. I was asked to go there too, as Cami’s education in Beauxbatons before her rebirth could not possibly match that of a Mediwitch. But I categorically refused, preferring to prepare the appropriate potions and show her how to use them instead of seeing the wizard by my own eyes. When I think about it, I suspect that I chose not to see Snape in that beaten up state because I feared it might have softened my anger. And I desperately needed that resentment, at the time. It helped me keep my eyes away from deeper, completely different feelings.

Cami went there for a few days, entering in the dungeon like August entered by our windows, carrying the wonderfully rich scent of ripe wheat and blossoming gladiolus. She told me that the wizard totally refused her help at the beginning. He was so hostile despite his bonds that she was forced to stun him twice in the same night. It was better that way. Marilena forbid me to provide any anaesthetic for the procedures. Surprisingly, on the third day, he let her change his bandages and disinfect his wounds most obediently. She talked to him for a while, trying to convince him to cooperate, telling him that he did not need to suffer that much, especially if he was innocent. She put all her heart and goodness into it, but the situation did not change. Oh, only for one insignificant detail: at the end of the third night, she perceived a faint sparkle of gratefulness in his eyes each time they met hers. It proved to have most fascinating consequences, later on.

Marilena was becoming more and more impatient with each passing night. Seeing that Cami’s efforts did not pay off quickly enough, she decided to make other attempts by herself. She spent the rest of the week in the dungeon, restlessly hitting on Snape’s mental barriers, trying to make him unclench his thin, pale lips. As I had anticipated, it lamentably failed. Not by much, at times, though. Ivantie told me that she even went as far as knocking him off his chair and lying over him, one knee painfully pushed against his stomach so he could not even breathe properly. She put her hands on each side of his head and kept her face within centimetres from his. Looking straight into his eyes, she repeated the incantations louder and louder until the dungeon was filled with her powerful voice. The wizard resisted for hours, fighting with all the forces that were left in him. His hands, arms, legs, lips and even his eyelids shook with the effort, until he lost consciousness and slept for an eternity.

But Severus Snape is a man of outstanding intelligence and a resourceful wizard. He must have found a way to resist her powers, maybe a secret place in his mind for him to hide, because after a while, he did not seem to suffer from her attacks as much. On the fourth dawn, he even displayed an expression of pure boredom and conceit as she sweat and spat her incantations in front of him. As once more she knocked him down on the floor and swooped down over him, he let her waste her energy for several minutes until, with an arrogant smile, he gave a light kiss on the tip of her nose and drifted to sleep. Marilena’s reaction was immediate. She burst into my resting room, her eyes sparkling madly with furiousness.

“I’ve had it, this time! You go in! I want you in the dungeon tomorrow evening at the earliest, no excuses!”

I was ready for that moment. I had been preparing for it during weeks. Most of my time had been spent in the mountains, with or without Andrei and Ivantie. Speaking of which, Andrei had fully recovered from his first practical attempt and had soon asked to renew the experience. With Ivantie’s help, we had been able to elude the guards and make a few more sessions in Oriana’s room. Within two weeks, he was ready to face the full moon. He was not enthusiastic to the point of trying it with people around, but he was anticipating that night with a new self-confidence. I was very proud of him.

I also consulted the Great Dragon on several occasions. At first, it either kept showing the same vision involving a lycanthropic, a snake and a phoenix, which always ended before I could see the issue of the fight. Or it simply showed me a thick white fog, no matter how hard I concentrated. One night, however, the images radically changed and, instead of showing me the future, the visions showed me the past. Happy moments of my past, some made of so simple daily events that I had forgotten them.

I first thought that the Great Dragon had felt my distress and wanted to bring me some comfort. Night after night, I went back to these cherished visions that revived what had been the best part of my afterlife. I first felt surprise and joy, warmth and eagerness, then grew rather obsessive and dependant of these images and felt melancholic and sad. At this point, an idea twinkled in the depths of my mind, very faintly. Just like a firefly would sparkle in a foggy night. That idea was made of only one word: revenge. The Dragon wanted me to get my revenge, I thought.

Many silly ideas followed that first one. I thought of sneaking into the dungeon during the day, when Ivantie would be busy elsewhere, and finish what I had begun in Oriana’s room during my first reaction. I even thought of poisoning his nourishing potion to disguise my murder into a natural death that would appear related to the imprisonment or, simply, widen the list of possible suspects. Reason soon came back into my mind, fortunately for him.

It occurred to me that the Dragon would not have exclusively shown me happy memories if he had wanted me to get revenge. These images were not likely to drive me into violent actions towards the wizard. Only the Mark of Shame that soiled his skin and soul was able to do that. And the personal signification it had, for me. After a while, I finally understood the Dragon’s message. These images were taking so much place in my mind that it was everything he could display.

The Dragon was asking me to get closure about my past.

I spent the next few nights travelling the country. During the weeks before, I had taken care of the hippogriff with Ivantie and something like mutual respect had slowly blossomed, between us. Accordingly, he followed me willingly out of the stable when, at sunset, I came to him. I was as excited as a fledgling when I heaved myself up onto his back and pressed my legs against his sides. With a large grin on my face and what were certainly sparkles of pleasure in his eyes, we set off like a shot in the middle of the oak alley. Trees swished by us at increasing speed until we finally left the ground, raising in the air at a rather vertical angle, along the Great Fall.

My first destination had been Constanta. There was this splendid example of Muggle architecture that I often visited: the Cazinoul. Its superb white and gold walls were truly majestic and vied with the mysterious shine of the Black Sea in the moonlight. I sat on the gray roof and contemplated the sea for hours, looking at its peaceful waves, while the hippogriff was having fun chasing seagulls and pelicans on the shore. There was something in the moves of the sea, that night, which gave me courage. Its nobility, most probably. Nature, life… no matter how the course of time change the face of the world, the forces of nature and life always remain hidden somewhere, waiting to bloom. All it takes is a little help from fate and the right circumstances.

The two following nights were spent in Poland. Valerica’s last visit had been too short and we had not had much time to really speak together. My owl had returned with a most enthusiastic reply from the Countess, so it is with great anticipation that I landed with the hippogriff on her grounds. I remember that we casually curled up on soft cushions in a very cozy boudoir, all windows open, and chatted for hours. Valerica’s eyes truly reflected all the goodness and acceptance that were within her. They were of a soft, smooth green that gave them the humble and discreet shine of the purest jade pearls. I felt like I could tell her anything, because those precious eyes would never glimmer with judgment or haughtiness.

Indeed, I told her everything that had happened since the wizard’s arrival. Like me, she was surprised by his cavalier manners, but even more by the strange Legilimency link that seemed to exist between us. I rambled on and on about all his arrogant attempts to prove his superiority. She only smiled and suggested that they might also be seen as efforts to get closer from me. She concluded that the wizard probably knew more than we were aware of. According to her, his actions, especially before his capture, suggested that there might be an additional reason for his visit. Nevertheless, she told me to remain careful and always keep in mind that these other intentions might still be perfidious.

When I left, in the middle of the second night, she held me in her arms for long minutes. Before we parted, she affectionately took my face between her soft hands and said, smiling:

“My love, our kind would not have been granted with lives so long if we did not have, in the depths of our soul, the remarkable power to forgive the past and go on. Fate has been knocking at your door for a very long time. You perceived the tremor of change in the water, smelled it in the air, long before it reached you, but refused to listen and did not prepare. I, too, can feel all these things coming from you right now. Open the door, Antanasia, and see what is behind, good or bad. But as you go out and face the music, do not load down your gait with unnecessary regrets from the past. You can find other things there that are much lighter to carry. Maybe that time, it will not feel so difficult to step out and walk away.”

With one last kiss on my lips, she said goodbye. Her words resonated in my heart all the way home. She had said in words what the Great Dragon had said in images. And she was centuries older than he was. This time, the message was in my mind to stay.

That is how, as I was unpacking the light luggage I had brought with me to Valerica’s castle and Marilena had entered my room as short-tempered and humiliated as a cat coming out of a most unwanted bath, I answered:

“I will do as you command, my Lady.”

The following night, at sunset, I went to the dungeon. My steps were precise, quick and steady, as usual. When I entered, I did not need a lot of time to remember why I hated that place so much. In the summer, the room was tolerably fresh, but the humidity was appalling. Everything was made of stone, from floor to ceiling, which did not help to make the room more joyful… or dry. There were no windows anywhere; the dungeon was below ground level. The room was perfectly circular and had a very high ceiling, just like the hall. Except that the decoration was absent, obviously. The only apparent decoration was a two-way mirror that allowed us to observe prisoners without being seen. Niculaie had brought it to the castle after a visit in a Muggle police department.

Snape was sitting on a wooden chair, hands and ankles tied together in front of him. His back was turned to me. I approached from him as silently as I could, enjoying the few extra seconds of peace I could get before I would have to face his sharp dark eyes again. His head was bent forward in what looked like a very uncomfortable sleeping position. As I reached his level, I saw that he was sleeping indeed. I had barely taken the time to ask myself if I should sit or stand when I heard his low voice, rising between the two curtains of thick black hair that hid his face.

“Antanasia! What a surprise! Has Marilena decided to execute me without a trial? I guess she did not like my kiss… what a shame!” he scoffed, his voice rendered a bit gruff after weeks of silence.

I snorted, but said nothing. The mere sound of his voice had given rise to a myriad of emotions, but anger was the smallest of them. Pity, as I feared, was probably at the top of the list.

Curious about my silence, Snape moved his head up. Every single feature on my face remained stubbornly still, but what I saw shocked me beyond words. Cami had apparently successfully mended his nose and jawbone; everything seemed in place without the trace of any suspect lump. But dark remains of his lack of sleep and the violence he had endured most disgracefully underlined his eyes, which were glittering with a mix of fatigue and inflexible determination. His lips were awfully dry, his hair, quite the contrary and they stuck on each side of his face. His complexion looked so unhealthy that it had turned greyish and his face, usually shaved with surgical precision, was ravaged by a black beard. Looking down to turn away from such a pitiable sight, I saw that one of his fingers was twisted out. He sneered again:

“Rumour has it that I was snoring too loud, last day.”

I looked at Valeriu, who was standing by the door, silently asking for an explanation. He merely shrugged his shoulders, snorted and walked out into the corridor.

I seized him by the wrists and delicately raised his hands closer to my eyes. I did my best to avoid looking at the Dark Mark and concentrated hard on his fingers. I had not brought any anaesthetic lotion with me, assuming that Cami had taken care of what would certainly be his last physical injuries. The only words that escaped from my lips before I uttered the incantation were:

“I’m sorry.”

I felt his muscles tense as, with a cracking sound, his bones fused together back in place, but he only said, in a very quiet voice:

“Thank you.”

I finally opted to sit down, having nothing better in mind to do. With a wave of my hand, a comfortable armchair appeared next to him. Holding my hand out, I invited him to sit in it, but he merely grunted, looking away from me:

“Spare me your pity, will you?”

As silently as ever, I sat down in the armchair and waited. His smell was totally repulsive, but by respect, I did not move back. I simply sat there, for hours in a row. At the beginning, I sensed that he and I were fighting each other, both mulishly testing each other’s capacity to endure the silent, yet so noisy, confrontation. Towards the end, I had the impression that the two of us desired to speak, but neither of us wanted to be the first to break the silence. Most of the time, he looked at me, either in the eyes or elsewhere on my face, as if he wanted to imprint each and every one of my features into his mind. Every now and then, his glance wandered away, to the ceiling, the walls. He never looked down.

A little before sunrise, I got to my feet, slowly glided around him and headed to the door, intently leaving the armchair behind me. As I reached the doorstep, he said:

“Does that mean I will have the pleasure to see you tomorrow?” he purred.

I walked out.

************

“What do you mean untie him? Should we provide fresh flowers every night, in addition?”

Apparently, Marilena did not appreciate my suggestion, after I reported the night’s events.

“My Lady, I am only suggesting it for medical reasons. It is not good for him to stay immobile for so long.”

“The guards force him to walk every now and then,” she argued moodily.

“That will never replace freedom of movement. I am worried about the risk of oedemas, both in his legs and arms. That could threaten his life, my Lady.”

“Damn, I can’t believe I will have to teach homodynamic basics to a cainite to illustrate my point!” I thought.

“I do not like that idea at all,” she groaned.

“He is guarded day and night. He has been there for weeks and is very feeble. His wand is locked in the castle’s vault. Really, what harm can he do?”

“He could still kiss you good day, it’s true!” said a mocking voice in my head.

“Ok, I’m ready to try it. But only when you are in the room with him. If he behaves, we will see,” she finally conceded.

“Thank you, my Lady.”

“If he does not behave, I will hold you personally responsible for it,” she added maliciously.

“I am ready to take the risk.”

“Good. What else?”

“My last point is more about my personal comfort. The man has not properly washed for weeks.”

“I know. Believe me, I had my share of that smell. That is even probably what prevented me from giving him a little kiss of my own, in return.”

“Well… if he has the right to be untied during my visits, maybe he could also be allowed to wash himself.”

“That would be no luxury, in his case. Though he deserves to marinate in his dirtiness after how he disrespected me.”

“Well… it would show him that we are ready to cooperate with him. That might make him more prone to speak.”

“It’s true. But let’s keep it looking like a favor and not like an abdication. I do not want him to think he won anything with his attitude. Cold water in a bucket and a piece of soap. Nothing more.”

“It will be done as you wish, my Lady.”

“Good. You may leave, now. Niculaie needs to report to me as well.”

I hid my smile under a respectful bow and left the room. I was welcomed in my apartments by Ivantie, who was eager to hear the latest news. He was delighted, of course, to hear about the improvements I had gained for the wizard. He had been arguing for the past weeks with Marilena to change his imprisonment conditions, but she did not want to listen, as it was the case most of the time. Marilena somewhat seemed to think that taking Ivantie’s advice meant humiliating herself.

Ivantie did not let me sleep until I accepted to accompany him to his apartments. Together, we chose clean clothes for Snape to wear, as his were rather ruined or too dirty to be worn. Ivantie gave me a fine silk dark green shirt with black trousers. We figured they were the things that would clash the least with his usual style.

The following evening, we walked together to the dungeon. Ivantie had accepted to accompany me after I realized, while filling the bucket with cold water, that the wizard would not be allowed any intimacy and would probably be uncomfortable to see me standing in front of him as he washed himself. This is why he entered first while I waited outside. Niculaie, who had taken the guard shift for the day and was waiting for Valeriu to take his place, informed me that the night had been uneventful. As Ivantie did not call for me after he came in, I figured that Snape had not suffered any new injury since my last visit.

After half an hour or so, Ivantie came out, carrying Snape’s old clothes. He stopped at my level and, looking at his load, raised his eyes to me interrogatively:

“Just burn that!” I said with repugnance. “He has still got his own cloak in his room, I figure.”

“See? That’s the type of laundry I just love to do!” he whispered jokingly.

“Has he said anything?”

“Not a word,” he retorted. “You seem to have his exclusivity!”

I grunted, but found nothing intelligent to reply.

“Go ahead. He’s all yours!”

Ivantie winked me goodbye and walked away. I sighed deeply and entered the dungeon. Snape was pacing the room with slow and steady steps, as precise as a metronome. The beat, echoing dully against the stonewalls, made a rather sombre sound. But it reassured me to see that he was walking normally. No limp or flinch suggested any injury or oedema in his legs. When he saw me, he stopped and held out his hand towards the armchair I had created the night before.

“Good evening, Antanasia. Please, don’t stay there; take a seat. You will forgive me if I stand, but the only exercise I got for the past few weeks, though quite cardiovascular, did not help my circulation much.”

“As you wish,” I replied, very quietly.

I drifted in my thoughts when I sat down, still listening to his monotonous steps against the stone. I had a difficult time figuring if I preferred his silence or not. When he welcomed me or said goodbye, no matter how politely he did, I felt so uncomfortable that I became totally speechless. As I thought of the irony of the situation, given the fact that I had been sent there precisely because he was the one who did not speak, I snorted discreetly. His voice came right by my ear, making me startle:

“If you find something funny, please do not keep it to yourself! As incredible as it may sound, I am desperate for something to laugh about…” he softly said.

Resisting the urge to get up and walk away, I simply turned my head towards him. He was still strolling along the wall, on the opposite side of the room. All his attention was turned to the stones, as if he did not even feel my presence in the dungeon. That definitely opened my mouth for good.

“Snape! I am getting sick of these silly games of yours. You will be surprised, if I begin to play along, that I might prove to be far superior to you.”

He instantly stopped walking and looked at me. His voice croaked with mockery when he said:

“Really?”

He won again. The man really had the knack to make me lose my temper. That time, however, I understood it soon enough and adopted his tone.

“Really. But I doubt that a little game of hide and seek would be possible in here. Hiding places are quite inexistent,” I teased.

“True. That must not be the only game we could play, though…”

“Indeed! And you know what? I think we have been playing one already!” I said, faking my astonishment.

“Is that so?”

“Certainly! It’s called Let’s abuse other people’s trust. You started the game a few weeks ago, surely you must remember!”

“I am surprised that you, of all kindreds here, should accuse me of starting such a game,” he said, with a strange touch of coldness in his scornful tone.

“Please explain,” I replied, on my guard.

“Well, I think it is obvious!” he said, walking towards me. “You have proved to be quite an exceptionally skilled player yourself!” he murmured, with a reptilian smile that showed he was extremely satisfied with himself.

I kept walking closer to him, still in perfect control of myself. The first minutes of our conversation had served as a warning and I really made an effort to keep my composure, no matter what. Our noses were almost touching when I stopped. He did not walk back and stared at me, right in my eyes. My mental barriers were stronger than ever.

“I believe that Ivantie has told you about my secret activities. He did not lie. I offer a treatment and training to humans suffering from lycanthropy, against the rules of my clan and the direct orders of my Lady. Do I enjoy it? Immensely. Do I regret it? Absolutely not,” I whispered evenly.

“Ivantie also told me that, should anybody know about this, you would face death penalty. Fear must indubitably be among the things you feel about your… activities.”

He had fallen right into the trap. I did not miss that splendid occasion.

“I will not lie to you, Snape. Yes, I feel afraid, at times. That will not stop me from doing every single thing I can to fight that disease. That is one of the things that help me get up every evening. If I should die because I helped wonderful people outdoing themselves, become functional and have fulfilling lives, then I know I will die for a just cause. The thing is, Snape, I really doubt you could tell yourself the same thing, given the reason why some megalomaniac burned the very symbol of shame on your arm.”

I saw a flash of pure loathing flame in his eyes, but he said nothing. If I had not meant to humiliate him when I had entered the room, it had become my only goal once he had attacked me. I believe I succeeded, in that one occasion. At least, he seemed shaken enough to remain silent. It also might have been one of his strategies to obtain something from me, but I did nothing to grant him his wish. With a set face, I slowly walked back to my armchair and sat comfortably. I wanted to leave as far away as I could from that despicable man, but I was not quite finished with him.

Our silent duel resumed once more. I took that extra time to fully weight the impact of the harsh words I had just thrown to his face. It struck me how personal that hatred was. I admitted to myself that the thing that made me so angry was not the fact he had seemingly come here as a fake messenger from the Order of the Phoenix. His allegiance to the Dark Lord, in itself, was what had made me turn him in. I had not even thought about the clan’s best interests, when I had grabbed him by the throat and pushed him against the wall. I had thought about my own little self. My own old grudges.

I looked at him. He started walking again along the dungeon’s stonewalls. His appearance suddenly hit me. Despite his fatigue and the fury on his face, he looked young. I was so used to be surrounded by men looking his age but being centuries older that I had not fully grasped the difference of age between us. And what it meant.

“He was still emerging from adolescence when it happened,” I thought.

And I was making him pay. I was making him pay for what others, older and supposedly wiser than him, had done. I could not change his situation much. He had probably not been forced to join Voldemort, which in my mind said a lot about him. But he was imprisoned by my fault and he had the right to know why. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat.

“Snape,” I said, a bit too harshly. “Professor Snape. Please come here and sit down with me. There is something very important you should know about.” I continued, a bit more softly.

He stopped, but did not come towards me. I could see he hesitated. He seemed torn between the irresistible urge to keep hating me in his corner of the room and curiousness about what I had to say. The latter won the fight. He slowly came and sat on his uncomfortable wooden chair. Hatred made his presence vibrate even more intensely around me. I instantly felt intimidated; he did not seem so young to me anymore. But I kept looking at him and said, on the most composed tone I could find:

“I am the one who put you in such an painful situation. I perfectly understand that you particularly loathe me right now, and you have every reason to do so. But I’m afraid that you do not know the deeper reasons why such a little tattoo on your arm made me react that much.”

He raised an eyebrow doubtfully and looked down, but let me continue.

“After I finish what I have to say, I will let you decide if you want to do the same to me and alert Marilena about my secret activities. It would not bring you freedom, but it would bring you revenge. Maybe that would bring you some comfort or joy. You know, I thought seeing you imprisoned would bring me just that, but I have been greatly mistaken. It made me sad. Sad and resentful against the barbarism that our kind can show off. For that, I apologize.”

He raised his head, but did not look at me.

“Here is the little tale I wanted to tell you about. You mentioned my husband, the night you got caught. I can imagine how you heard about him, but I doubt you know our story very well. Arnaud was a French Muggle and we met in Marseille in 1936. We quickly fell in love… but I will spare you the romantic details. At first, he tried to keep me away, because of what was for him a very shameful detail of his personality. Every full moon, he had a lycanthropy attack. At the time, no treatment whatsoever existed, not even the Wolfsbane Potion, as you know. He knew I was a cainite, of course, and my kind’s well-known hatred for lycanthropics increased his apprehensions even more. I quickly dissipated his doubts, however, when he found me at his bedside after one of his transformations. Our happiness did not remain secret for long, unfortunately. When she learned about our relationship, Marilena obviously did everything she could to put an end to what was growing very serious. I was immediately called back to Zaharia, where I had to face all the elders of the clan. My behaviour was qualified as shameful to my clan and to my kind. Ivantie took my defence, of course, but he was the only one. He did not have enough power to make them keep me in the clan and I was forced to escape in disgrace. I flew right to Marseilles, where Arnaud and I got married with Muggle rites. The priest must have found it extremely strange to marry a man with a face covered in scars and a woman as pale as death, but frankly, I think he was too drunk to remember. I did not even bother to Obliviate him.”

I took a pause. Happy memories were flooding my mind, just like they had done in the Great Dragon’s orb. Our wedding, quick and secret in a seedy chapel, our wedding night… the wonderfully smooth touch of Arnaud’s lips against my skin… Snape shifted position on his chair, which abruptly brought me back to the dungeon.

“We lived happy years together, which do not need to be detailed now. However, we devoted a substantial part of these years to find a way to fight Arnaud’s symptoms, every full moon. He had no magical powers, which made the task even more difficult. But with perseverance, and many, many failures and disappointments, we finally found a way to keep his mind stable enough for him to contain his animal persona each month. At the time, however, the technique was not developed enough and Arnaud still needed my help, but we managed fine that way. Ivantie visited us as often as he could, otherwise, he owled us, so I could keep in touch with the clan’s news. That is how, during the mid-sixties, I heard for the first time about a dark wizard rising to power in England. Arnaud and I were concerned, but not to the point of volunteering. Not yet. Nevertheless, as you said, during the seventies, Tom Riddle officially became Voldemort and things got worse.”

I stopped talking. Was that really a startle that shook his shoulders, when I had pronounced the Dark Lord’s name? I seemed to have all his attention, and it encouraged me to start the most painful part of my story.

“Arnaud was a Muggle, as I told you. Nonetheless, he had asked thousands of questions about my life as a witch, at the beginning of our marriage. He had listened to me for hours and had developed a great respect and fascination for the magical world. He fully allowed me to use my powers in our home, whenever I desired. So when Minerva McGonagall came knocking at our door one night, in 1976, and asked for my personal help in the name of Dumbledore, Arnaud felt that the call was directed to him as well.”

“How come Minerva went to you in particular?”

“The Order had already requested Zaharia’s services, at that time. Ivantie, Niculaie and Marcela were among those who were sent in England to spy on Death Eaters’ activities. Minerva told me that Ivantie had praised my magical skills, principally my transfiguration and Legilimency skills. I guess Dumbledore had seen my potential for the Order. Ivantie, on the other hand, had my reputation in mind and probably wanted to put me higher in Marilena’s esteem.”

“I see,” he commented.

“Arnaud and I joined the Order that year. At first, we mostly operated in France, monitoring the Death Eaters’ attempts to recruit new members in the magical underground. Two years later, our efforts had proven to be quite helpful to the Order and we were asked to move permanently to England in order to be closer from the action. We did not need much convincing; Arnaud was very found of Ivantie, just like I was, so we jumped on the occasion and found ourselves a nice little cottage near London, in the same street where Ivantie, Marcela and Niculaie were living.”

I paused. I could feel a lump in my throat that began to really challenge the steadiness of my voice. Fortunately for me, Snape respected my silence.

“But as you can guess, things did not remain happy for long. Voldemort’s followers were growing in number and their actions became more violent. Panic had crept everywhere around, to the depths of every house, including ours. It entered our house one morning when Arnaud came back with a very nasty wound. He had gotten it during a confrontation with a particularly nasty witch. Lestrange, I think… Anyway. It made me realize that Arnaud, because of his lack of magical powers and his age (which had reached 70 years at the time), was quite vulnerable during magical combat. Merlin! I spent hours and hours, trying to convince him to let me perform the Embrace on him. It was something I had had in mind since years. I was terrified to see him get older, while I kept the very same appearance and health year after year! It’s such a terrible thing for a cainite to watch powerlessly a mortal loved one as he dies a little more each day!”

My voice broke down, but that time I did not pause. I needed to tell the rest. I owed it to Arnaud’s memory.

“He did not want to listen. He was very proud… and probably much braver than I was, because he categorically refused and chose to face death in whatever form it would present itself to him. He did not have to wait for long. A few months later, it was in November 1979, he left for what would be his last mission. He had been assigned to a night watch at some Death Eater’s Manor, in Wiltshire. We were a few days away from full moon and I remember I had argued with him to let me take his place. It was only supposed to be a two nights mission, so we finally agreed that he would go. But four nights later, he had not returned. Such delays were not rare, so I did not worry too much at first and blamed his absence on the full moon of the night before. The following evening, I was about to get out and go there to see if he was in trouble, but the door would not open. Something… something was blocking it from outside. I pushed harder and finally managed to open it enough for me to pass my head through the opening. I saw a large beige bag, with the Dark Mark traced on it. I do not know how I managed to get the bag inside, because what my mind had understood after seeing the Dark Mark, my heart refused to believe. What was inside the bag was even worse to see.”

A first tear rolled down my cheek, but I did not even feel it.

“Arnaud was there, lying dead in the bag. He had been delivered to our door like a common package! His face still showed the last remains of all the tortures he had endured. I put my hands on his face and saw his last moments. Their trace was still readable for a good Legilimens. I saw that evil face… blue eyes, long blond hair. He kept cursing him with his lips twisted in a pure expression of cruel pleasure, alternating his curses with powerful strikes of his snake-shaped cane. I also got a different glimpse of several people standing helpless in front of him. They looked terrified. I concluded that for some reason, the blond Death Eater had kept Arnaud prisoner during his transformation and had put him in a room with humans. He probably ended biting or killing them, and the mere thought of it just tore my heart into pieces. Arnaud had fought all his life against his lycanthropy and, up until his last days, he had been able to restrain himself from biting any human during his attacks. He was so proud of that! And at the last minute, years and years of efforts got ruined! It soon became obvious that his death had not been a quick one, from what I saw that was left in his mind and from the horrible wounds on his body. I cannot believe that it was his only reward! His only reward for giving years of services, and his life, to people who even thought his kind was inferior!”

“Everything all right, Antanasia?” said Niculaie, from the door.

“Yes, everything is just perfect! Go back outside, please, I am not quite finished!” I said, with a strangled voice.

Niculaie did not insist. I continued, on a lower tone that probably sounded even more painful:

“I let the first waves of distress, anger and sorrow submerge me, and then I summoned up all my courage and did the only logical thing. I carefully removed Arnaud’s body from his disgraceful bag and burned the latter. Then I picked a few white silk bed sheets and wrapped him in them the best I could. I stepped outside, with Arnaud’s body floating at my side and with a shovel in my hand. It was well passed midnight, so we did not meet anybody in the street. To be frank, I did not really care. I walked at his side down the road until we found ourselves in a peaceful pasture. Everything was still asleep, frozen, waiting for the imminent spring to wake up. I looked for a proper place and chose the base of a splendid apple tree. Arnaud always enjoyed looking at them in springtime, when they are charged with delicate white flowers. At the time, however, it looked rather lugubrious: all its leaves had fallen and it was standing alone on the top of a little hill. I started digging his tomb, which was a difficult task as the ground was rather hard with the cold weather. But I cannot say I minded. To me, it was a last occasion to show him all my love and respect. A last occasion to spend time with him, to take care of him.”

I felt much calmer, talking about that part of the events. To cainites, tombs are peaceful, comfortable places, so it does not have any lugubrious or morbid signification, for me.

“I did not say Muggle prayers after I buried him. I figured it would have been an insult to his kind and anyway, I did not know any of them by heart. I did bless his tomb, however, with the ancient rites of my family and a few drops of my blood. I was so concentrated in my task that I did not feel someone observing me. I have no idea what that man has seen or how long he had been standing there. He was all wrapped in a black cloak, which had made him blend naturally in the darkness of the night. I did not see his face as he kept the hood of his cloak on his head, but from the sound of his voice, I figured that he was quite young, at the time. He saw me dwell there as dawn was menacingly showing its first gleams on the horizon. He probably figured that I was a cainite and for some reason, wanted to protect me, because he said—”

“Believe me, woman. That one will heal too. For now, think of yourself and go back home,” said a baritone voice next to me, as it emerged from the past and joined the present.

************

AUTHOR’S NOTE
I hope you are enjoying the story so far! I would really appreciate some reviews. It does not take much of your time and it tells me if you like where the story is going or not! It’s in your best interest, in a way! Writing 25-30 pages every week represents a lot of work; your comments are a valuable reward! :o)