Chapter 32 - Jay


Diana looked around her prison cell, searching for anything that might be a hidden listening device, a camera, anything that might inhibit her sense of privacy. She took in the pastel paint of the walls, the clean white trim of the ceiling and windows. The gauzy curtains blew softly in the breeze coming in, and her feet were warm on the carpeting where the sunlight streamed in. She stepped out of its light, her bare feet unable to find fault with the thick, plush pile beneath.

She glanced over at the bed, her eyes measuring the comfort she knew she'd find in the quilt and its crisp linens. The fluffy pillows invited her to lie down, and she noticed with disdain the books on the nearby shelf, clearly chosen by someone who knew her taste in literature.

All in all, not the typical prison.

But she would not be appeased. Whether her cell was of cold stone and darkness, or whether it was this luxurious dwelling, she was being held prisoner, and since she could not come and go as she pleased, her surroundings held no comfort.

She didn't know, nor would her captors tell her, where they'd taken Sparrow. Not that she really wanted to see him. But her situation was balanced upon what was known about her marital and maternity status.

The only information she was able to glean from those who brought her here was that she would be held here until after the birth of her baby. The creepy creatures who would be serving her meals were under orders to report any food not eaten, and were also instructed to cater to her odd whims, should any of them rear their ugly, craving heads.

In other words, she would be treated like royalty to insure the health of her unborn child. Once the baby was delivered, they probably wouldn't care if she starved or slept, as long as it didn't affect anyone but herself.

So, were they planning to take her baby away from her? Were they determined to keep her separated from her husband? Did they even know Sparrow was her husband? This wasn't a detail Diana felt particularly compelled to share with them. If she had her way, she wouldn't be married to him at all.

She wondered what punishment they would consider if she simply refused to eat? Stories of intravenous feedings fought to come forward in her mind, and knowing such things were possible, she decided to take advantage of the hospitality this 'prison' provided. She tossed herself down on the bed and picked up the strange-looking apparatus on the side table.

When the gnome, or elf, or goblin, or whatever these magical people called them, had shown her into the room, he'd explained the use of the distant-talker. She was to speak into it, and her own personal servant would hear her, no matter where in the house he was. Doing this now, she ordered a supper of chicken noodle soup, a roast beef entree, with grilled vegetables and a bit of Turkish Delight for dessert. Coffee, black, with a glass of brandy to finish it all off. Let's just see how far they go to pamper my baby.

Within seconds, her servant, Grummilly, as he'd introduced himself earlier, was coming through the supposedly locked door, a heavy-looking tray in his hands. He set it down on the table across the room, looking pointedly back at her. Obviously, being served in bed was not an option.

She was too hungry and curious to argue, so she walked over to the table. When she sat in the only chair, Grummilly lifted the lid off the tray, showing Diana the soup, the dinner plate, and, Diana noted with hostility, the large glass of milk.

"Are they afraid I'll get the baby drunk?" she asked, sniffing moodily. "And what harm could coffee do to it?"

"Grummilly knows about babies and what caffeine and spirits can do," it said kindly. "Miss Diana's baby will one day thank Miss Diana and Grummilly for the milk."

Speaking of which...

"Grummilly," she asked, dipping her spoon into the soup, "what plans are there for after my baby is born? Will we both be booted out to find our own way in the world you've all stolen me from? What good will it do to keep me in good health now, if I cannot provide for my baby later? I can't even nurse if I'm not eating properly."

"Grummilly knows not what is planned, Miss Diana. But Grummilly knows more clever souls than Grummilly is making these plans. Miss Professor McGonagall will be to seeing Miss Diana tomorrow, and will answer Miss Diana's questions."

"I might have known she had her hand in this," Diana grumbled. "And I suppose she's doing whatever Snape tells her to do."

"Grummilly knows not what causes Miss Professor McGonagall to think what Miss Professor McGonagall thinks. And Grummilly knows not what motivates Mister Snape. Is there anything else Grummilly can do for Miss Diana before Grummilly comes back to gather the dishes?"

"Apparently not," she answered, deadpan. "Unless you can tell me where they've taken Sparrow."

"Mister Sparrow has been taken to St. Mungo's, Miss Diana."

"What, pray tell, is St. Mungo's?"

"St. Mungo's is the wizarding hospital, Miss Diana. Mister Sparrow's health was in question, as Mister Sparrow had not regained consciousness after being Stunned. Miss Professor McGonagall is there now, and will answer your questions about Mister Sparrow tomorrow, if Miss Diana will ask the question."

"Miss Diana might and might not ask questions of Miss Professor McGonagall," she imitated cruelly. "Miss Diana might decide to spend the day in bed tomorrow. When Miss Professor McGonagall arrives in the morning, please ask her to make an appointment."

"Grummilly will ask Miss Professor McGonagall to make an appointment, Miss Diana, because Miss Diana orders Grummilly to do so. But Grummilly is telling Miss Diana that Miss Professor McGonagall will not wait for an appointment anyway. Grummilly will return in half a sandglass to collect the dishes."

Diana spooned her soup into her mouth absently, tasting nothing.

---

"Severus, a word, if you please?" Minerva nervously smoothed a stray lock of hair into place among the many pins on her scalp as she beckoned Snape away from the library. Jillian looked up briefly, nodded, then returned her gaze to the book before her. Snape followed Minerva out into the hallway. It was empty of students, but Minerva spoke quietly anyway.

"No response yet from Sparrow. The Healers say they don't understand why he's still out; it wasn't that strong a spell. They suggested he simply doesn't want to regain consciousness. Do you have any suggestions? He wasn't a weak man, after all..."

"No chance he's merely faking it?" he asked rhetorically. "I could go there shortly and try Legilimens, as long as I can capture his pupils. It isn't always possible with unconscious, or semi-conscious wizards."

"You can try it, but my point is, why wouldn't he want to come out of it? He must wonder why he'd been taken, and what happened to Diana. And does he know about the baby?"

"All questions I can search for," he assured her. "Jillian has prepared a letter for you to deliver to Diana tomorrow, if you wouldn't mind. She's not quite up to visiting just yet."

"Does she remember everything of what happened?"

"Yes, she seems to. She's still being protective of Diana, but she did promise to show me her letter before you go there. I have cautioned her about promising any help to her sister. She fails to see the inherent danger in it. She refuses to believe Diana wishes any ill will toward her."

"Strong family ties, and all that," Minerva said, nodding. "I think, under the circumstances, it would be better for Jillian if we don't let her know where we're keeping Diana."

"What will become of her, and the baby?"

"Well, that all depends on Diana, Severus. We will offer help should she decide to raise the baby, but if she's of a mind to give it up for adoption, we'd like her to agree to leave it to us. No telling where the woman would leave the child, if left to her own devices."

"That's something that should be asked soon," Severus said. "Before Jillian makes any noises about wanting to raise her niece or nephew. That's a sure way to keep Diana in our lives. I won't have it."

Minerva smirked, but was careful to hide it from Snape. "Well, the idea of raising another man's child isn't something I'd expect you to go along with, Severus." As she turned to leave, she threw a parting shot over her shoulder. "Not if you plan on having a few of your own, anyway..."

Severus narrowed his eyes and counted to ten before returning to the library. Keeping all expression from his face, he renewed the conversation he'd been having with Jillian before Minerva had interrupted them.

"As I was saying, we've delayed this long, what's a few more days?"

"Severus," Jillian said patiently, "by the time all this Diana business is cleared up, you will already have finished with the first application of the salve. What's the point in waiting? I think you're just using this as an excuse to keep from rejoining this world fully. I've seen you hiding from students and staff alike, and no one seems to mind your being back except you."

"Well, they keep assuming I've come back to teach," he argued. "I don't want others making decisions for me. I've had more than enough of that sort of life, thank you."

"Just go through the treatment. If you decide to say good-bye to Hogwarts after that, no one will hold it against you. But you said yourself, the scars close doors to you even before you can knock. What's the point in keeping them?"

Tired of the same old conversations about the same old issues, he sighed theatrically and gave in. "Very well. I will begin the first application in the morning. Satisfied?"

Jillian smiled as if knowing all along he'd give in. Severus began putting the books away, needing to keep in motion, or acknowledge the nervous, jittery feeling he got every time he thought about healing his neck.

What if it didn't work? What if this potion, the last resort after months and months of research, failed? How would he feel about that? And was he so vain that scar tissue would make him want to hide forever? What sort of life would that be for Jillian?

And curse Minerva and her remark about children. Would he want any of his future spawn to recoil in horror from touching him? From even looking at him?

He swallowed the lump in his throat as Jillian's tender hands smoothed over his shoulders. Glancing at her, he suspected she knew what he was thinking, and it both frightened and humbled him that she could know him so well.