A/N: After much conversation with a good friend, the ideas for this sequel threatened to boil over in my tired, four-hours-of-sleep mind. So, mewmewvern, I dedicate this to you.
Getting into the Ministry was easy enough, and obtaining directions to the transfiguration research lab where Minerva worked was easier still. However, Voldemort realized, it might prove difficult to get into a private lab. A few harsh words and an Imperius curse later, though, he was in. Pathetically easy.
She was at the lab bench, running tests on the mice. Voldemort reached a hand out to her, to tap her shoulder and alert her to his presence, to turn her around to face him, anything, when she said, "Who let you in? This is a private research lab."
Voldemort felt a smile threaten to spread across his features at her tone, and forcing himself to keep a straight face, he took her hand, pulling her away from the lab bench. "We need to talk," he said, looking her in the eyes. He tried to look earnest. It was more difficult than he had expected.
"We're talking."
He arched a brow. "Indeed. Why did you leave the lights on when you left?"
Minerva smiled, shaking her head. "That's not what you wanted to ask me."
"How do you know? Maybe I was extremely surprised and hurt that you decided to vandalize my room."
"Vandalize?" she repeated, chuckling shortly. "I don't think leaving the lights on qualifies as vandalism."
"Minerva," Voldemort said, softening his voice, "why'd you just leave me like that? I don't merit a proper goodbye?"
"I gave you one," she said, unmoved. "I kissed you, and said 'bye, Tom.' Not good enough?"
"You haven't seen me in a week," he said. "You haven't replied to any of my letters, either.
"I'm busy."
"How long will you continue to be busy?" he persisted.
"Oh, I don't know. A year, maybe two... probably until you're too busy with your business to have time for me." She frowned at him over her glasses, one eyebrow raised. "Sound okay to you? Oh wait, I don't need your approval anymore."
"Minerva-"
"Now, I really need to get back to the mice-"
"Minerva, can I explain-"
She waved his words away, turning her back to him and walking to the lab bench again. "Perhaps another time... my Lord."
It sounded incredibly provocative the way she said it, he thought, though that was obviously not her intention. "Minerva, let me explain-"
"-hmmm, the tissue samples look great... I should probably take notes on this," she muttered maddeningly under her breath.
He felt his temper snap. "Enough," he snarled, seizing her violently by the shoulders, spinning her around and slamming her back against the edge of the counter. "Do not needlessly antagonize me." For the first time a glimmer of fear entered her eyes, and he noticed her hand inching to her pocket to draw her wand. "No," he said, voice falsely sweet, "no need for your wand, Minerva, I don't intend to harm you." He imprisoned her wrist, brushing her hand to his lips despite her resistance. "Now," he said, taking her wand and slipping it inside his jacket, "we're going to talk properly."
"Get the f*ck away me, Tom."
"I've tolerated your behavior this long, Minerva, and my patience is running thin. I'm being civil with you, so stop behaving like a little hellcat and let me explain." He noticed her part her lips slightly, and could guess the words forming on them- Very civil to slam a woman into a counter like that, isn't it? but she caught herself in time, to his pleasure, and closed her mouth. "Good," he said softly. "What all did you read?"
"More than enough," she said, tipping back her head, her sweet voice obviously forced.
"Be explicit."
"Enough to know that your long term goal is to be like Grindlewald, only with an even more ridiculous name."
"Really." He tipped his head down, narrowing the gap between them.
"Yes... and that you have an extensive pureblood campaign underway."
"Go on."
"You're connected to multiple old wizarding families who lend you their support, people who sympathize with your aims." She arched against him, her arms stretched on either side of her as her hands grasped the counter's edge.
"Names?"
"Oh, I don't remember them all, but Malfoy, Lestrange, Dolohov, Rosier, and Nott to name a few."
"And what made you leave?" he asked again, bringing his lips to her ear.
"The knowledge that my boyfriend is a depraved psychopath with fascist tendencies- ah!" she said, exclaiming suddenly when he nipped at her ear.
"What about his affection for you?" he murmured, cupping her face in one hand, bending over her a bit more.
"Psychopaths aren't capable of human emotions," she said faintly, her head tipped back fully as she arched her neck to its maximum, her hair brushing the counter and spilling over its edge.
"Ah, but you don't know that he's a psychopath," Voldemort chastised, amused when she hooked her arms around his shoulders for greater support when he caught her by the waist. "Did you have access to his medical history, too?"
"No," she began, eyes falling shut as he worked his way to her collarbone, "but he -oh, careful- fits the mental portrait of one to a tee- ah, watch it," she added in a gasp, and he felt the pressure from her fingers increase for a moment as she dug her nails in.
"What's wrong with what I'm doing?" he said. "You haven't said anything against it specifically, just insulted me multiple times."
Her odd combination of bliss and rebellion to his advances dissolved, leaving her livid. She straightened at once, a scowl on her lips. "Do you even need to ask? Sidelining an entire population just because they have some Muggle blood? Persecuting Muggles because they can't defend themselves? Killing muggleborns to purify the wizarding population? Using the dark arts to intensify your power, so no one can hope to stand against you? Need I remind you," she said, eyes blazing -she always looked the prettiest when they did, he thought appreciatively- "that I am a half-blood?"
"Minerva, as if I would let any harm come to you," he said, smiling and pushing a stray lock off her face.
"Shut up. You want another Wizarding war. You were in Muggle London during the second world war. That was bad enough, wasn't it? Aren't you scarred from that?" she demanded, and her hands illustrated where he was marked with tokens of unwelcome memories of explosions and shrapnel.
"Physically, I suppose," he said blandly, "but not mentally. And I'll do a much neater job of it than muggles. By the way," he added, a smirk in place, "you certainly are well acquainted with my-"
"Moving on," Minerva interrupted, a furious blush spreading across her cheeks, "I'm done. We're done. And nothing you do could-"
His lips were against hers before he had even realized it, and her strangled gasp when he bent her against the lab bench again didn't escape his notice. Her hands were at his face and neck, but she didn't push him away, something he took as an invitation to pull her body flush against his and continue until both were breathless. "Please," he said, with a gentleness he could not feel, "come back to me."
"I can't," she said softly, and he wondered if the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes had been there all along.
He nodded slowly, his hand moving to his cheek after she kissed him with a sweetness that made him wonder why he had never noticed it before. His hand remained there long after he left her lab.
o0o
Psychopath indeed, Lord Voldemort scoffed. If that were the case, he wouldn't regret what he'd lost. If that were the case, he wouldn't be having second thoughts, wondering if his plans were worth losing her.
"My Lord, the new recruits are ready to pledge their service to you."
Psychopath? No. Different priorities...? As he emblazoned his dark mark on the forearms of his newest followers, he knew it was the latter. He would get over her in time, and she him. Lord Voldemort entertained no second thoughts.
FINIS
A/N: That didn't end quite as I had planned but I am pleased with it anyway. Hope you enjoyed! REVIEW, my lovelies!
