I am the Diet Coke of Evil...
Aug. 2nd, 2003 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vivienAccording to this test: http://channels.netscape.com/ns/atplay/eviltest.jsp
And I have the next part of S&W vaguely ready. Anyone want to read through and point out serious gaffes?
Strange and Wondrous, 1955 Part Three
By Vivien
Disclaimers: I do not own these characters; J.K. Rowling does.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Focus. Control. Concentration. These were the required elements for an Animagus transformation. Minerva McGonagall was sitting on the bed at her room in the Laughing Dragon Inn, breathing deeply, trying to reach a still, quiet place within herself. She found herself anything but still and quiet. Her thoughts kept flickering to Tom's face, Tom's body, Tom's hands on her skin, his love for her. This time tomorrow they would be gone, together, fleeing lives that had become frustrating and stagnant. She smiled and breathed in. The thought of her new found love and happiness brought the calm she needed. With the light fading fast, dappling the room with shadows, Minerva changed into her cat form.
She loved the thrill of being an Animagus, loved her animal incarnation. When she was a cat, she was truly a feline, with the thoughts and urges of the animal. She was still herself, her conscious thoughts floating above the cat brain, mingling with the more primitive urges to scratch claws on tree trunks or attack the rustling whispers of creatures in the bushes. Through training as an Unspeakable agent, she'd been taught to control her higher thoughts, to rule the cat. Control had always been such a mainstay of Minerva's life. Control, rigidity, following the rules... She was happy to be done with all of that.
As Minerva settled into her second skin, she felt that something was not quite right within her. Something tangible, but not, she intuited, dangerous. Animagi were known for detecting minuscule bodily changes that indicated illness during transformations, since they were essentially rearranging themselves molecule by molecule. Minerva wasn't sure what the problem was, but she didn't feel it was anything to concern her at this moment. She'd puzzle it out when she changed back after this last mission as a miserable employee of the Ministry of Magic. Then she would be gone, gone with the man she'd loved for years without realizing.
Slipping out of the open window, Minerva crept through the shadows surrounding the Inn and made her way into the dark forest, ears alert for the sound of voices.
-------------------------------------------------------
There were preparations Tom needed to make before the sun went down, but he found that all he could do was grin like a madman and think of Minerva. He was readying for their departure at least, reducing his books into minuscule sizes, the better to be placed in a single trunk to levitate away. His snakes he would reduce last; he didn't want them to be distressed before it was necessary. He found himself humming as he did his tasks, stopping every few moments to remember Minerva's voice first whispering she loved him, or her body wrapped around his in the height of passion. Love, true tangible love, was such a foreign emotion for him; it was a bit unsettling the lengths to which he would now go to protect her, to cherish her forever. He was ready to take her away, to find a happily ever after he'd never known could exist.
'But it can't be this easy, can it? There's so much she doesn't know. I've waited for her so long, if I were to lose her now...' He pushed the troubling thoughts from his head. Everything would be fine, and by this time tomorrow, they would be in Alexandria or Algiers or somewhere else equally promising together.
The sun was setting, and he'd done nothing for the evening's ritual. He had to find blood to "prove" he'd killed Minerva as per Modrig's order's. He wished he could simply make a quick Apparation to a Muggle dockside to snuff out the life of a random thug. One who resembled his father, hopefully - he never got tired of reliving that kill. But he needed magical blood - Modrig would immediately know the difference. He also needed to undergo his own ritual to prepare and protect himself, to invite more of the Darkness inside himself to make the ritual that much more powerful for him. He placed the last of the palm sized books into the trunk in front of him. He needed to hurry.
He went to his altar and retrieved a glass urn from within a hidden drawer. Dark red liquid sloshed inside of it as he set it before him. This was the blood of a Tibetan wizard he had killed in a mostly fair duel some years ago. It was potent blood, for the wizard had been old and powerful. But not powerful enough, Tom mused with a smile. He had preserved the blood for his more arcane and demanding rituals, meting it out drop by drop. He would use all of it tonight to protect Minerva.
Setting the blood to the side of the altar, he opened the Parselmouth Grimoire to a ritual he hadn't attempted before. It called the snake spirits above and below to stand between you and danger, in exchange for blood and devotion. Tom had both to spare, but even as he slashed his palm with a dagger to begin his offering, his thoughts were of Minerva.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Minerva slunk through the underbrush of the forest, carefully placing her paws in the quietest places. It was full dark, and she heard the unmistakable buzz of human voices in the distance. She headed for the spot, knowing in her Minerva mind that the location matched with the Ministry information she'd been given.
Soon she began to perceive a change in the light. A bright blue glow was emanating from a clearing a few yards away. She headed towards the light, listening to the voices as they came more into focus. Silently leaping into a tree standing before a circular clearing, Minerva settled down and watched and waited.
People were drifting into the clearing. People whose faces were obscured by low, black hoods. Minerva crouched down close to the bark of the tree, shielding her higher thoughts from any Legilimens who would be able to detect them. Sour smells reached her cat nose, smells of poisons and Dark power. She memorized the sights before her, of the robed figures forming a circle, of blue light eerily pouring into the darkness of the forest.
Finally one large shape entered the middle of the circle, cutting through swirling blue mist. "Bow down before your Lord Modrig," he said in deep, accented English. The figures standing in the circle knelt down. "You come to this place this glorious night to partake of my power, to complete the Dark Rites we have begun in our fellowship. Voldemort, the blood gift."
A tall figure stepped before Modrig, kneeled, and handed him a glass urn glowing red. "My master, the blood of the Ministry spy, as you commanded." The man bowed low before Modrig.
In the tree, Minerva froze, her four sets of claws digging into the rough bark of the tree. That was Tom's voice. 'But perhaps it wasn't,' she thought quickly. She prayed to any god that would listen that it wasn't.
Modrig took the urn and lifted the lid, inhaling the fragrance of the blood. "Ho, quite powerful. A fitting gift for our ritual. If only it was truly the witch's blood, you lying traitor." He smiled maliciously and took out his wand, setting the urn on a dais he conjured. The man before him remained kneeling, absolutely still. "Well, well, Voldemort, isn't this an interesting situation we find ourselves in. You have disobeyed a direct order. Not wise, boy, not wise."
"I don't know what you mean, my lord," said the man calmly.
Modrig savagely backhanded the man. He wavered under the force of the blow, but came back to his upright position.
"The witch was seen in her room at the Inn this afternoon, you idiot," Modrig snarled. "She sent an Owl, no doubt carrying damning evidence of your activities. You have betrayed your future for pleasure with the enemy. You will be severely punished, but not enough to kill you. Not yet. We'll capture your witch and stage a Dark Revel with her as our honored guest. You will watch every moment of her degradation and torture, and then you will watch her die. Then you will be our honored guest, and you will beg us for death. I have waited for this moment for years, Riddle. Crucio!"
Minerva's eyes were wide and her breath shallow. She felt as if she'd been sharply kicked in the ribs. It was Tom. Even if Modrig hadn't named him, she could see his face now where the hood had fallen away. He was a Dark wizard, and he'd been ordered to kill her. And yet, he hadn't. As she watched him writhe on the ground, suffering from the Cruciatus curse, she caught herself slipping back into human form just in time to focus back into animal shape again. She tried to breathe deeply, to center herself, but found that she could not.
-------------------------------------------------------
Tom knelt before Modrig, knowing that his plan had failed but not giving up just yet. His mind was racing with ideas, ways to escape, ways to save Minerva from a fate much worse than death. He could try cursing Modrig now while the bloated toad blathered on, but he'd be pitifully outnumbered by the rest of the assemblage. Cruciatus torture was bad, but he could bear it. He'd find a way to protect her. Tom saw Modrig's wand rise up, ready to cast. He took a deep breath and retreated within himself.
The blast hit him, strafing his nervous system with flares of fiery, spiking pain, but he'd already retreated within his memory, a form of magic and concentration he'd taught himself. The pain was there - there was no way to ever escape it - but he could hide part of himself, as it were, in a tiny corner of his consciousness to deflect the worst of it. It was here, huddled within himself, hearing his own screams while trying to focus on Minerva's face, the feel of her, the overpowering emotions he assigned to her and her alone, that a change began.
It was a tingle of current running up and down his spine at first, pushing against the pain slicing through his body. The tingling grew stronger, and from behind his closed eyelids, he saw red, snakelike forms moving against the black. He opened his eyes, and he still saw them. The red tendrils writhed through the air and around his body, and a rush of power swept into him. He stood, still under the effects of Cruciatus, but almost oblivious to the pain.
Modrig cast the Cruciatus again, his eyes wide. Tom laughed. He saw through a veil of red now, and power bubbled up inside of him, flooding his senses. He raised his wand to parry the curse, and with a flick of the wrist the Cruciatus rebound upon Modrig. Now the student loomed over the cringing form of the master.
The others within the circle were whispering amongst themselves, unsure as to what to do. They waited, transfixed by the palpable power throbbing throughout the clearing.
"Ah, Modrig, I have been waiting years for this," said Tom. "I could take my time with your death, but truly, I have wasted too much of my precious time in your wretched company already. Avada Kedavra!" With a flash of green light, Modrig collapsed lifeless to the ground.
Tom was giddy, drunk on the Dark power which shone red from his eyes. The red tendrils had mostly burrowed into his flesh by now. A few small wisps lingered about him, swirling around his body. He wasn't sure what had caused this transformation, but it was glorious. He triumphantly turned to face the group in the clearing.
"Bow down to your Lord Voldemort," he said.
Half the group went down to their knees immediately. The other half Disapparated. Only one person remained standing. "How dare you?" screeched Svetlana Karkaroff. "You killed the most powerful Dark wizard left in Europe, you arrogant bastard."
"No, I didn't, my dear Svetlana," said Tom. "The most powerful Dark wizard in Europe stands before you. If you know what's best for you, you'd bow down before me as well."
Svetlana spat on the ground. "I curse you, Tom Marvolo. I will take care of your Ministry whore myself." She Disapparated, and Tom thought how nice it would be to torture her before he killed her. Minerva would be safe enough at her meeting. Even if she were back now, the Minerva he remembered from Dueling Club would make short work of Svetlana. Svetlana fancied herself a menace, but in reality she was pathetic. He would deal with her later.
He looked upon the figures bowed before him. "I will continue the ritual," he said. "You will be my followers. I will mark you as my own, even though I might not see you again after this night for some time. Never doubt, though, that your loyalty belongs to Lord Voldemort"
"Yes, Lord Voldemort," spoke a dozen voices. Tom retrieved the book of ritual from Modrig's cloak pocket and began. The Dark ecstasy remained, meshing with the love for Minerva that had kept him walking on air with no magic at all. She would be his Dark queen, and together they would rule the world. He began the ritual, his face glowing with joy and Dark power. This last twenty-four hours had brought him everything he had ever desired.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Minerva couldn't move for quite some time. She huddled in the crook of the tree, watching what was unfolding below her, but not quite comprehending what she saw. As Tom began the ritual, she knew she couldn't stay and watch anymore. She'd completed her mission - she'd seen the new Dark power rise. How could he be the man she'd always wanted and be this as well? Why hadn't he told her? Had this all been an act to deceive her? At this thought, her stomach clenched as if she'd been punched.
She stumbled out of the tree, barely able to concentrate enough to retain cat form. She had to get out of the country before any of Modrig's followers found her. Before Tom found her. Her room at the Inn was warded, so she should be safe within it. She would Apparate straight to McGonagall Castle and hide there. Once she was far enough away from the clearing, she began running, mindless of the noise her four feet made.
Soon she was slipping back into her dark room at the Inn. . She took a deep breath and upon exhaling she stood up into her human form. She had vaguely remembered to concentrate on the niggling sense of something being awry within her. After a confused moment, her face went white.
"No, it can't be," she whispered to the darkness. "It can't be, it mustn't."
She sat down hard on the bed. Holding her wand with a shaking hand, she waved it over her lower abdomen and whispered. Then she pointed to an empty wall. "Revelare," she commanded.
On the wall, glowing streaks of magic from her wand formed the word "yes". She stared at the yes until it faded slowly away. Then she cast the pregnancy revealing spell again. The same glowing yes appeared on the wall. Minerva McGonagall was with child. In the family way, and in complete and utter shock. She put her hands over her eyes and tried to cry, but she was in too much shock to do more than gasp for air. She was pregnant, she was going to have a baby - Tom's baby. A Dark wizard's child. What the hell was she going to do? It didn't matter that she'd resigned from the Ministry. Even if she ended the pregnancy, her superiors would know she'd consorted with the enemy. Her mind would be an open book, no matter how she tried to hide her thoughts. She moaned in despair and huddled on her side, curled up and rocking herself as she keened.
She dropped her hands from her face to clutch at the bedspread, and it was then she noticed a small, nondescript owl perched on the wardrobe. It wasn't a Ministry owl, of that she was certain. "Come," she said, her voice sounding foreign to her ears. The owl fluttered down to the bed and stuck out a leg. She took the roll of parchment, but the bird didn't fly off. It was waiting for a response. She read the letter.
Minerva, I miss you already, and you've not been gone more than a few hours. I will be waiting to hear from you the moment you return. Please send back the owl, my love, and tell me when to expect you. I am ready to begin my life anew with you by my side.
Yours forever,
Tom
He must have sent the letter right after she'd left the room earlier this wretched evening. She wanted to rip the letter into shreds. She wanted to hex Tom into oblivion. She wanted to fall into his arms and ask him, why, why, why, and be covered with his kisses till she didn't have to think anymore. Now the tears came. She kicked the mattress and pummeled the pillows for the unfairness of it all.
After several minutes of giving herself over to the rage and sorrow, Minerva slowly sat up. She could feel the rigid discipline that had maintained her throughout a career of spying settle back into place. Walking to the desk, she penned a quick response, tied it to the owl's leg, and sent it back to it's master. She reduced her trunk to pocket size. Slipping it into her cloak's pocket, she cast a Camouflage Charm on her robes. Her lips pursed together in thin line, she Apparated to the place she'd arranged to meet her lover and enemy.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I think this chapter will end up being a little longer, depending on how the next bits go. Must write before starting grad school, must write before starting grad school....
And I have the next part of S&W vaguely ready. Anyone want to read through and point out serious gaffes?
Strange and Wondrous, 1955 Part Three
By Vivien
Disclaimers: I do not own these characters; J.K. Rowling does.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Focus. Control. Concentration. These were the required elements for an Animagus transformation. Minerva McGonagall was sitting on the bed at her room in the Laughing Dragon Inn, breathing deeply, trying to reach a still, quiet place within herself. She found herself anything but still and quiet. Her thoughts kept flickering to Tom's face, Tom's body, Tom's hands on her skin, his love for her. This time tomorrow they would be gone, together, fleeing lives that had become frustrating and stagnant. She smiled and breathed in. The thought of her new found love and happiness brought the calm she needed. With the light fading fast, dappling the room with shadows, Minerva changed into her cat form.
She loved the thrill of being an Animagus, loved her animal incarnation. When she was a cat, she was truly a feline, with the thoughts and urges of the animal. She was still herself, her conscious thoughts floating above the cat brain, mingling with the more primitive urges to scratch claws on tree trunks or attack the rustling whispers of creatures in the bushes. Through training as an Unspeakable agent, she'd been taught to control her higher thoughts, to rule the cat. Control had always been such a mainstay of Minerva's life. Control, rigidity, following the rules... She was happy to be done with all of that.
As Minerva settled into her second skin, she felt that something was not quite right within her. Something tangible, but not, she intuited, dangerous. Animagi were known for detecting minuscule bodily changes that indicated illness during transformations, since they were essentially rearranging themselves molecule by molecule. Minerva wasn't sure what the problem was, but she didn't feel it was anything to concern her at this moment. She'd puzzle it out when she changed back after this last mission as a miserable employee of the Ministry of Magic. Then she would be gone, gone with the man she'd loved for years without realizing.
Slipping out of the open window, Minerva crept through the shadows surrounding the Inn and made her way into the dark forest, ears alert for the sound of voices.
-------------------------------------------------------
There were preparations Tom needed to make before the sun went down, but he found that all he could do was grin like a madman and think of Minerva. He was readying for their departure at least, reducing his books into minuscule sizes, the better to be placed in a single trunk to levitate away. His snakes he would reduce last; he didn't want them to be distressed before it was necessary. He found himself humming as he did his tasks, stopping every few moments to remember Minerva's voice first whispering she loved him, or her body wrapped around his in the height of passion. Love, true tangible love, was such a foreign emotion for him; it was a bit unsettling the lengths to which he would now go to protect her, to cherish her forever. He was ready to take her away, to find a happily ever after he'd never known could exist.
'But it can't be this easy, can it? There's so much she doesn't know. I've waited for her so long, if I were to lose her now...' He pushed the troubling thoughts from his head. Everything would be fine, and by this time tomorrow, they would be in Alexandria or Algiers or somewhere else equally promising together.
The sun was setting, and he'd done nothing for the evening's ritual. He had to find blood to "prove" he'd killed Minerva as per Modrig's order's. He wished he could simply make a quick Apparation to a Muggle dockside to snuff out the life of a random thug. One who resembled his father, hopefully - he never got tired of reliving that kill. But he needed magical blood - Modrig would immediately know the difference. He also needed to undergo his own ritual to prepare and protect himself, to invite more of the Darkness inside himself to make the ritual that much more powerful for him. He placed the last of the palm sized books into the trunk in front of him. He needed to hurry.
He went to his altar and retrieved a glass urn from within a hidden drawer. Dark red liquid sloshed inside of it as he set it before him. This was the blood of a Tibetan wizard he had killed in a mostly fair duel some years ago. It was potent blood, for the wizard had been old and powerful. But not powerful enough, Tom mused with a smile. He had preserved the blood for his more arcane and demanding rituals, meting it out drop by drop. He would use all of it tonight to protect Minerva.
Setting the blood to the side of the altar, he opened the Parselmouth Grimoire to a ritual he hadn't attempted before. It called the snake spirits above and below to stand between you and danger, in exchange for blood and devotion. Tom had both to spare, but even as he slashed his palm with a dagger to begin his offering, his thoughts were of Minerva.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Minerva slunk through the underbrush of the forest, carefully placing her paws in the quietest places. It was full dark, and she heard the unmistakable buzz of human voices in the distance. She headed for the spot, knowing in her Minerva mind that the location matched with the Ministry information she'd been given.
Soon she began to perceive a change in the light. A bright blue glow was emanating from a clearing a few yards away. She headed towards the light, listening to the voices as they came more into focus. Silently leaping into a tree standing before a circular clearing, Minerva settled down and watched and waited.
People were drifting into the clearing. People whose faces were obscured by low, black hoods. Minerva crouched down close to the bark of the tree, shielding her higher thoughts from any Legilimens who would be able to detect them. Sour smells reached her cat nose, smells of poisons and Dark power. She memorized the sights before her, of the robed figures forming a circle, of blue light eerily pouring into the darkness of the forest.
Finally one large shape entered the middle of the circle, cutting through swirling blue mist. "Bow down before your Lord Modrig," he said in deep, accented English. The figures standing in the circle knelt down. "You come to this place this glorious night to partake of my power, to complete the Dark Rites we have begun in our fellowship. Voldemort, the blood gift."
A tall figure stepped before Modrig, kneeled, and handed him a glass urn glowing red. "My master, the blood of the Ministry spy, as you commanded." The man bowed low before Modrig.
In the tree, Minerva froze, her four sets of claws digging into the rough bark of the tree. That was Tom's voice. 'But perhaps it wasn't,' she thought quickly. She prayed to any god that would listen that it wasn't.
Modrig took the urn and lifted the lid, inhaling the fragrance of the blood. "Ho, quite powerful. A fitting gift for our ritual. If only it was truly the witch's blood, you lying traitor." He smiled maliciously and took out his wand, setting the urn on a dais he conjured. The man before him remained kneeling, absolutely still. "Well, well, Voldemort, isn't this an interesting situation we find ourselves in. You have disobeyed a direct order. Not wise, boy, not wise."
"I don't know what you mean, my lord," said the man calmly.
Modrig savagely backhanded the man. He wavered under the force of the blow, but came back to his upright position.
"The witch was seen in her room at the Inn this afternoon, you idiot," Modrig snarled. "She sent an Owl, no doubt carrying damning evidence of your activities. You have betrayed your future for pleasure with the enemy. You will be severely punished, but not enough to kill you. Not yet. We'll capture your witch and stage a Dark Revel with her as our honored guest. You will watch every moment of her degradation and torture, and then you will watch her die. Then you will be our honored guest, and you will beg us for death. I have waited for this moment for years, Riddle. Crucio!"
Minerva's eyes were wide and her breath shallow. She felt as if she'd been sharply kicked in the ribs. It was Tom. Even if Modrig hadn't named him, she could see his face now where the hood had fallen away. He was a Dark wizard, and he'd been ordered to kill her. And yet, he hadn't. As she watched him writhe on the ground, suffering from the Cruciatus curse, she caught herself slipping back into human form just in time to focus back into animal shape again. She tried to breathe deeply, to center herself, but found that she could not.
-------------------------------------------------------
Tom knelt before Modrig, knowing that his plan had failed but not giving up just yet. His mind was racing with ideas, ways to escape, ways to save Minerva from a fate much worse than death. He could try cursing Modrig now while the bloated toad blathered on, but he'd be pitifully outnumbered by the rest of the assemblage. Cruciatus torture was bad, but he could bear it. He'd find a way to protect her. Tom saw Modrig's wand rise up, ready to cast. He took a deep breath and retreated within himself.
The blast hit him, strafing his nervous system with flares of fiery, spiking pain, but he'd already retreated within his memory, a form of magic and concentration he'd taught himself. The pain was there - there was no way to ever escape it - but he could hide part of himself, as it were, in a tiny corner of his consciousness to deflect the worst of it. It was here, huddled within himself, hearing his own screams while trying to focus on Minerva's face, the feel of her, the overpowering emotions he assigned to her and her alone, that a change began.
It was a tingle of current running up and down his spine at first, pushing against the pain slicing through his body. The tingling grew stronger, and from behind his closed eyelids, he saw red, snakelike forms moving against the black. He opened his eyes, and he still saw them. The red tendrils writhed through the air and around his body, and a rush of power swept into him. He stood, still under the effects of Cruciatus, but almost oblivious to the pain.
Modrig cast the Cruciatus again, his eyes wide. Tom laughed. He saw through a veil of red now, and power bubbled up inside of him, flooding his senses. He raised his wand to parry the curse, and with a flick of the wrist the Cruciatus rebound upon Modrig. Now the student loomed over the cringing form of the master.
The others within the circle were whispering amongst themselves, unsure as to what to do. They waited, transfixed by the palpable power throbbing throughout the clearing.
"Ah, Modrig, I have been waiting years for this," said Tom. "I could take my time with your death, but truly, I have wasted too much of my precious time in your wretched company already. Avada Kedavra!" With a flash of green light, Modrig collapsed lifeless to the ground.
Tom was giddy, drunk on the Dark power which shone red from his eyes. The red tendrils had mostly burrowed into his flesh by now. A few small wisps lingered about him, swirling around his body. He wasn't sure what had caused this transformation, but it was glorious. He triumphantly turned to face the group in the clearing.
"Bow down to your Lord Voldemort," he said.
Half the group went down to their knees immediately. The other half Disapparated. Only one person remained standing. "How dare you?" screeched Svetlana Karkaroff. "You killed the most powerful Dark wizard left in Europe, you arrogant bastard."
"No, I didn't, my dear Svetlana," said Tom. "The most powerful Dark wizard in Europe stands before you. If you know what's best for you, you'd bow down before me as well."
Svetlana spat on the ground. "I curse you, Tom Marvolo. I will take care of your Ministry whore myself." She Disapparated, and Tom thought how nice it would be to torture her before he killed her. Minerva would be safe enough at her meeting. Even if she were back now, the Minerva he remembered from Dueling Club would make short work of Svetlana. Svetlana fancied herself a menace, but in reality she was pathetic. He would deal with her later.
He looked upon the figures bowed before him. "I will continue the ritual," he said. "You will be my followers. I will mark you as my own, even though I might not see you again after this night for some time. Never doubt, though, that your loyalty belongs to Lord Voldemort"
"Yes, Lord Voldemort," spoke a dozen voices. Tom retrieved the book of ritual from Modrig's cloak pocket and began. The Dark ecstasy remained, meshing with the love for Minerva that had kept him walking on air with no magic at all. She would be his Dark queen, and together they would rule the world. He began the ritual, his face glowing with joy and Dark power. This last twenty-four hours had brought him everything he had ever desired.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Minerva couldn't move for quite some time. She huddled in the crook of the tree, watching what was unfolding below her, but not quite comprehending what she saw. As Tom began the ritual, she knew she couldn't stay and watch anymore. She'd completed her mission - she'd seen the new Dark power rise. How could he be the man she'd always wanted and be this as well? Why hadn't he told her? Had this all been an act to deceive her? At this thought, her stomach clenched as if she'd been punched.
She stumbled out of the tree, barely able to concentrate enough to retain cat form. She had to get out of the country before any of Modrig's followers found her. Before Tom found her. Her room at the Inn was warded, so she should be safe within it. She would Apparate straight to McGonagall Castle and hide there. Once she was far enough away from the clearing, she began running, mindless of the noise her four feet made.
Soon she was slipping back into her dark room at the Inn. . She took a deep breath and upon exhaling she stood up into her human form. She had vaguely remembered to concentrate on the niggling sense of something being awry within her. After a confused moment, her face went white.
"No, it can't be," she whispered to the darkness. "It can't be, it mustn't."
She sat down hard on the bed. Holding her wand with a shaking hand, she waved it over her lower abdomen and whispered. Then she pointed to an empty wall. "Revelare," she commanded.
On the wall, glowing streaks of magic from her wand formed the word "yes". She stared at the yes until it faded slowly away. Then she cast the pregnancy revealing spell again. The same glowing yes appeared on the wall. Minerva McGonagall was with child. In the family way, and in complete and utter shock. She put her hands over her eyes and tried to cry, but she was in too much shock to do more than gasp for air. She was pregnant, she was going to have a baby - Tom's baby. A Dark wizard's child. What the hell was she going to do? It didn't matter that she'd resigned from the Ministry. Even if she ended the pregnancy, her superiors would know she'd consorted with the enemy. Her mind would be an open book, no matter how she tried to hide her thoughts. She moaned in despair and huddled on her side, curled up and rocking herself as she keened.
She dropped her hands from her face to clutch at the bedspread, and it was then she noticed a small, nondescript owl perched on the wardrobe. It wasn't a Ministry owl, of that she was certain. "Come," she said, her voice sounding foreign to her ears. The owl fluttered down to the bed and stuck out a leg. She took the roll of parchment, but the bird didn't fly off. It was waiting for a response. She read the letter.
Minerva, I miss you already, and you've not been gone more than a few hours. I will be waiting to hear from you the moment you return. Please send back the owl, my love, and tell me when to expect you. I am ready to begin my life anew with you by my side.
Yours forever,
Tom
He must have sent the letter right after she'd left the room earlier this wretched evening. She wanted to rip the letter into shreds. She wanted to hex Tom into oblivion. She wanted to fall into his arms and ask him, why, why, why, and be covered with his kisses till she didn't have to think anymore. Now the tears came. She kicked the mattress and pummeled the pillows for the unfairness of it all.
After several minutes of giving herself over to the rage and sorrow, Minerva slowly sat up. She could feel the rigid discipline that had maintained her throughout a career of spying settle back into place. Walking to the desk, she penned a quick response, tied it to the owl's leg, and sent it back to it's master. She reduced her trunk to pocket size. Slipping it into her cloak's pocket, she cast a Camouflage Charm on her robes. Her lips pursed together in thin line, she Apparated to the place she'd arranged to meet her lover and enemy.
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I think this chapter will end up being a little longer, depending on how the next bits go. Must write before starting grad school, must write before starting grad school....
