Live When There Is Time

Never in her life had Maia craved sleep so desperately. True, there had been few all-nighters before the OWL's but that was an entirely different matter. For one, she had not been in teeth-grinding, gut-wrenching agony. For two, she had not been in teeth-grinding, gut-wrenching agony. For three...

It had probably been sometime afternoon that Slytherin had left her to "contemplate her behaviour." Oh, and hadn't she contemplated.

The last beliefs she had vaguely held had crushed down with a cloud of suffocating dust; now she had no illusions about the supremacy of Slytherin and his House as compared to any other people. Slytherin was as detestable as any other person in his own way. She was determined to hate him - secretly. Never again would she entertain ridiculous thoughts of such humbug as dignity or pride.

She would grovel, beg and flatter if need be. Never again would she spend a night like this, feeling blood seep slowly out of wounds until the cover was first soaked through, then dried to a sticky coarseness. She had wet herself and now the insides of her thighs itched. And that was nothing compared to the sensations in her legs, one of which rested in nauseatingly odd angle, or arms, one of which was out of its socket and the other broken. The rest of her injuries she was unable to catalogue, but it hurt all the same.

In all her coherent moments she had racked her brain for something to say to Slytherin. Now a new day had dawned and she was no closer to a solution. Any knowledge of the future Slytherin could easily pry out of her with potions and curses, her co-operation was by no means necessary. She had no special skills with which to be of assistance. Slytherin probably was not in need of a historian or a translator of modern languages.

The idea made her mourn. During her time in the tenth century she had been too occupied with detesting every single moment of it, fearing Slytherin and generally being clueless. Homesickness had ailed her daily, but now she realised there was more to it. Not only had her efforts in studying languages been lost, also anyone who could speak her own Mother tongue was not to exist in a long time; her family, friends, even petty foes at other Houses, Professors, Filch, The Dark Lord. Every adult she had ever known would very much outlive her. What an insane thought, but she was not in the mood to see the humour in it. Everybody felt sorry for Harry bloody Potter for losing his parents. She had lost far more than that but no one would ever feel sorry for her. No one would see any point in that. Surely she was one of the most privileged persons, related to Slytherin at the top of the society.

One of the many things Maia did not want to think about was what her position implied on the long run. She knew fairly well the lot of gentlewomen throughout the ages. Slytherin had even mentioned it earlier. Gryffindor wanted her for his son, to ally himself to a genuinely old family.

This raised the question to whom would she eventually be married off. Being amidst Hogwarts, seeing Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and even Salazar Slytherin every day offered a weak comfort of familiarity. She knew of them, had studied them. If Slytherin married her off to some obscure vassal, she would disappear to some primitive medieval estate, to be a wife to a man who saw her as walking-talking piece of furniture. The thought was too awful to contemplate. Mercifully, sheer exhaustion dimmed Maia's mind considerably.

Later, the maliciously bright light pouring in from the windows slowly reached the bed, alighting Maia's face. Still she lay on the bed, eyes fixed to the blue canopy. This was how Slytherin found her, entering the room after a night of sound sleep. There was not a shred of pity or regret in his being, unsurprisingly.

It was also quite certain he knew had now weeded out last shreds of insubordination of his ward. However, he saw no harm in probing the girl's mind a bit. It was promising, a pleasant surprise really, that instead of seething with insolent and short-sighted indignation she was outwardly calm and collected. Slytherin felt he could soften the manner with which he treated her slightly; she had made an error, yes, but obviously was willing to make amends and face the consequences.

"Good Morrow, Lady. I trust you have had a constructive night."

With obvious discomfort, even though she attempted to conceal it, Maia turned her head slightly. "Good Morning, My Lord." She was not sure what Slytherin was after now, with this formal civility after the rage of the previous evening. She preferred it, though, and decided not to care. "Forgive me the impoliteness of not rising and paying my respects."

Maia's fear easily kept her voice void of sarcasm. If it took a dragon-attack to teach her the danger of playing with a medieval Lord, she would learn from it.

Slytherin seemed content with that. In truth he had wanted, when demanding Maia to come up with a reason to heal her, to make her completely see how dependent she was on him. He had observed how she had retracted to her own mind, closing up and thus making herself appear to the outer world simple, almost idiotic.

In rabid succession Slytherin began barking out healing spells. The girl had the sense to remain composed. Bones returned to their former shape with squelchy sounds, cuts, scrapes and other wounds sealed themselves, one of the arms popped back to its socket in the shoulder.

After an uncomfortable yet blissful twenty minutes Maia felt remarkably better. She forced herself to grind out a respectful thank you and gingerly tried to crawl out of the bed. Her soiled clothes felt utterly disgusting on her and every bit of her ached. She blushed at the thought that Slytherin saw her like that, filthy and stinking of her own urine. On the other hand, she hadn't been very presentable after the two weeks of potion-induced stupor, either.

"Could I please excuse myself and go clean myself and change clothes, my Lord."

"Just go tidy up and then return here. I will summon a House-Elf to take you to your rooms and back. Do not waste time."

Slytherin watched with unreadable eyes as Maia slunk away with a House-Elf. It escorted her to her rooms, now surprisingly near, only a few corridors away.

The Elf took her clothes after she had undressed and dropped them to the floor out of habit to not give them to it. The bath that had been prepared was scalding hot and some parts of her skin were still raw from the recent healing. As always when bathing, she spent most of the time under the surface, marvelling the weightless feeling and complete solitude the water offered. As a child she had often dreamed of being a mermaid.

No matter how much she wanted to stay in the warmth and peace she had to eventually climb out. The Elf had a dress ready, green one again, with a grey cloak and the usual trinkets made of silver: clasps and chains to be attached at the oddest places. Soon the little creature had fixed up her intentionally slack form, unresisting but unreactive, too. Hair braided and head wimpled, dressed, shod and then away to see Slytherin again. Aching less after the bath Maia allowed herself to be hustled forward by the frantic Elf. What did anything matter anymore? All she was capable of feeling was fear and she was so tired of it, of anything.

Bang! The door slammed shut behind her as the Elf scuttled away as fast as possible. No muting charms, this time. Maia kept her head bowed and hands behind her back. Inside she felt the familiar fear rise as well as the traces of the helpless rage of last night. She suppressed the latter as well as she could. It would not help her in any way. Slytherin rose from behind a table and approached, stopping too near for comfort. Either an intimidation technique, or the cultural gab in the handling of personal space was older than she had thought.

Father's Roman friends had always stood too near him to his liking, and conversations had been a amusing dance of cat and mice as Father retraced as politely as possible and the Italian friend soon again stepped nearer. It had entertained Maia at the time, now it was merely a humourless, sad flash of times lost forever.

Instinctively, Maia backed a few steps.

Grapping her chin Slytherin raised her face to meet his and inspected it sharply, turning it at the sides to get a better view. "Good. You have no scars or other marks left after the healing. Of course it was performed by me so this was to be expected. Had I left you at Lady Ravenclaw's eager hands I do not know what would have come of it. Now, do sit down. Here."

He led Maia to a small table laden with a breakfast she was actually capable of eating: bread, cheese, very sweet wine and an apple. She waited his permission to eat and then tucked in, starved after her experiences. Not once did she glance at Slytherin if it could be avoided.

"Now that you have recovered sufficiently there is a matter concerning you." From the corner of her eye Maia saw Slytherin rise and retrieve something.

"You know I have not guarded you out of chivalry towards women. As a woman of extraordinary assets I have found a way for you to be useful. In a month's time I shall make you my wife. The time is rather short but you are old to be wed as it is."

Now Maia could see what Slytherin was holding in his hand. "Here is the traditional ring worn by generations of my ancestresses. Carry it proudly."

With only a few sentences he had shattered Maia's hard won indifference and outward composure. Could so incomprehensible news really be true when delivered with such coldness, inevitability? She feared she might begin to hyperventilate; all air seemed too thin to supply enough oxygen for her desperate lungs. Her mouth was so open it was possible a bit of drool had dropped on her lap as Slytherin, exasperated in her lack of response, took her left hand firmly in his grip and slid the ring in place. Then he retreated to pour a goblet of wine for himself and sip it delicately, all the while observing Maia.

Maia stared at the ring and for a fleeting instant felt an insane urge to laugh. It was a thick silver band formed by a snake biting its own tail, with green emerald eyes, no less. The serpent raised its head, gave a small hiss, spun around her finger once, and bit its tail a little further so adjusting itself around her finger to fit perfectly.

Maia tentatively gave the ring a pull, but it would not budge. She tried more forcefully, still in vain.

Now was not the time to let reality sink in. She would think of all this later. Now she just needed to have Slytherin answer a few questions. Such as...

"Why?" That would suffice for now.

"Why am I marrying you? Why do men take wives at all? My father had passed away and it is appropriate for me to marry. The Head of Slytherin needs a wife, it adds to his status. Of course there is also a matter of siring an heir."

Maia sternly blocked the last sentence and rallied forth before her vocal organs joined the anarchy reigning in her body at the moment. "Why, why me? Um... There must be ladies more on par with your status. You said once that you know everything about me. Then you know my mother's father was of impure blood. All I know of the way of the society is from books you have had me read. I'm not cultivated in the manner of this era; on the contrary I'm ignorant."

The speech was more than she had expected of herself. Feeling mentally exhausted she leaned back, still not daring to look at Slytherin, now apparently her husband to be.

Slytherin did not smirk in response. Instead his lips formed in a little contemplative smile. "You are a mere woman, a weak being. There is no reason why I should consider you worth disclosing my motives. On the other hands, there is no pressing reason as to why not."

He shifted a little, placing the now empty goblet aside.

"You are practically no one, and this short time you have spent here you have not learned enough to understand the most obvious aspects of the world.

Behind me is a long, proud line of ancestors: the finest of the finest, pure-blooded and bred with care. We are not sickly and weak because of short-sightedness, false pride. We have risen and risen and never fallen - cunning, ambitious and never afraid to wield power.

If you think about it, the only way your life can have any meaning is to let them who know better make use of you. That is the most you can ever be. You withdraw to yourself; try to deny everything that disturbs you. Do not think I have not noticed. It does not really matter to me, but I tend to make sure I know the people around me, even women. You were not made for this time, but a true Slytherin makes his own time. Of course, were you a true Slytherin, I would have destroyed you. A woman like the best students in my House would be an abomination."

Usually, in Maia and Slytherin's meetings, be they educational or disciplinary, not much passed between them verbally. Maia was always too wrapped up in the knowledge that their 'cultures', for want of a better word, were light-years away from each other. Even though both spoke Greek, they did not speak the same language. Slytherin, on the other hand, considered Maia quite insignificant, one of the many minuscule particles which formed the machine of his life. Maia was all too aware of that, while her own existence naturally revolved around Slytherin.

It was startling, how he now talked in a distinctly less distant way. And as he continued, it was also more explanatory, more focused on her than ever before. Maia did not know how to put it even to herself, the new edge to his words. It was like she only now got the confirmation that Slytherin was aware of her existence as a... a being and not a mindless Elf to which give orders. This frightened her as she had not thought of guarding her expressions particularly carefully, assuming that Slytherin did not care or notice what she thought.

She listened with such concentration she could hear blood rushing in her ears.

" Why do you keep on bothering yourself with those seventeen years you had? It is unreasonable to mourn for so long. You have not been forced to prostitution. You have jewels and a position, both I have given you. Do not abuse that generosity and your life will be easy; do me honour and you might find it even pleasant..

Wear the finest of the finest, bear the finest of the finest. Scorn those below, those who do not know your secret. Revel in the knowledge you are able to present me. Be proud of the assistance you are able to give the Slytherin line.

Weakly, you sobbed in potion-stupor of the tragedy of your life prior: ugly, of uninfluential line, powerless, a dreamer.

Grasp the opportunity you have now been given. Your time was a mad one. The male students you spoke of mainly nauseate me; only fools care about the looks of a wife. It doesn't matter whether she is hideous as a hippogriff's arse. A wise man looks at the hips. You have wide hips to give birth with. You will not die at the first child. It does not matter what the family history says, in woman you must see the individual. The groom's seed will take care of rest. Woman is the vessel to carry children, support and feed them, she only reflects, does not influence. It is as it should be. Women should never wield power."

Maia was very proud of herself for not wincing, not collapsing.

"You had worth in the future, though the idiots around you did not realize it. Now it has magnified, you are as good as a Seer. Better, even. You know the future, they only guess. You know spells and potions hitherto unknown to me. Realise this. Be thankful.

I have given you more than you could ever have dreamed of. Stop dwelling in the unattainable and realise your present. It will only hurt if you do not. You do not like being hurt, do you? Bow your head in front of me, have respect and reverence and obedience and I will protect you. You will be wed to the finest of the finest of the finest.

Realise what it means."

The moment was so overwhelming, and so concentrated was Maia that her heightened senses caused her to start, as she could suddenly feel magic radiating from the ring, wriggling itself to her being, veins and flesh, and binding her. It was almost as Slytherin's words... egged it on.

"You are mine to do whatever I please. I do not want a haughty noblewoman beside me, to have woman's whims and treachery. You are a possession, but I have prized you high. A woman on par with my status, as you put it, would have a powerful family behind her, to run back at, to scheme with. One's loyalty is always with one's line. Your line is mine only; pure, proper and completely mine.

So, bow your head and obey, Slytherin bride."

During his speaking only Slytherin's mouth had moved, he had been still as a statue, eyes boring on Maia, who had gone as still, trying to comprehend all of the fast flow of Greek. At the last sentence she realised it was more than a command - it was a question as well, in a manner of speaking. Slytherin wanted to know had she understood and would she succumb - behave and obey.

As fast as possible Maia forced her limbs to action, stood up and bowed her head. There would be time to think about the implications of Slytherin's words later, when alone. Now she more than anything needed to placate him, assure him of her obedience, to secure herself.

The words Slytherin had used had apparently been carefully considered, there was a hint of ritual in them and Maia could sense a whiff of magic at work as she bowed. She felt faint with the sleep-deprivation, concentration and only recent healing. She suspected Slytherin's Greek flood of words had been something more than just a acquiescence to her plead for an explanation. The Greek had valued eloquence highly, and it showed in their magic. Spells could be created in speeches, enchanting others not only verbally.

She accepted that quite calmly. It would have been foolish to except Slytherin to do something without a ulterior motive. She was not up to his mind games and would do well to try to not think of them.

All that mattered now was that she had to be a Slytherin - in control of herself. Her life very likely depended on it.