Another huge big thank you to my beta, Aleta II Anon!
Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and BlueChapter 3
She walked quickly down the path that led beneath the canopy of leafless branches to the abandoned shack. Her green eyes darted left and right and her ears prickled at every sound. Underfoot the fallen leaves of oak and ash crunched making far too much noise for her liking. She felt she was announcing her presence to the world and it unsettled her. Now that she harboured a secret she suspected even the trees had eyes. As she strained her ears she could hear small rodents and other creatures scurrying in the shadows. Minerva drew her cloak closer about her shoulders, tucked her head down and made for her patient.
There was still no word on Grindelwald and Minerva thanked the great Goddess for every second granted away from him. So long as he was absent her wanderings went relatively unnoticed which in turn gave her patient a greater survival rate.
The wounded man, hidden away from prying eyes, was healing better than could be expected. It had been two days since she had rescued the stranger and already most of the minor wounds were but scabs that would eventually heal without a trace. The nasty gash across his torso was still cause for worry but she believed it was under control. She had stopped burning thyme after the first evening hoping he would gain consciousness. Indeed, last night he had blearily opened his eyes to reveal startling blue orbs but soon after had succumbed to the clutches of Hypnos.
Strange. Minerva mused. Hypnos, twin brother of Thanatos. Sleep so closely related to Death. Closely related…but that is all. Just look at yourself, Minerva McGonagall, daughter of Harold McGonagall. Closely related…that does not make you him. You are your mother's daughter…but with your father's temperament.
Her thoughts were frustrating.
The blue-eyed stranger will survive!
As Minerva reached the shabby shed she swiftly cast a furtive glance behind her back to check she had not been followed. When she deemed it safe she whispered "alohomora," opened the door and entered. Herbs wafted her senses, her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the fire and the few candles scattered around the small room then quickly fell on the empty bed. Before she had time to spin around a large, long fingered hand clasped her throat. Another hand snaked its way around her slim waist.
"Friend or foe?"
The voice was hoarse from lack of use. The body pressed against her back was warm, a stark contrast to the cold autumn air blowing in through the open door. Minerva quelled her first instinct of fear and willed her racing heart to slow down. Her wand felt heavy in her pocket. The more she thought about it the calmer she felt. This was, after all, her patient, the very same person she deemed a gentleman not two nights ago. The unspoken seconds trickled past until her assailant finally loosened his grasp. He turned her around, held her by her shoulders and looked deep into her emerald eyes; in turn she drowned in his sapphire. Mesmerised she spoke not a word; breathless all she could do was stare.
"Your eyes…" He croaked as his hands came up to cup her face. "You…your voice…" His tone held a hopeful note of disbelief.
The spell was broken. Minerva jerked her head away, promptly turned on her heel and busied herself with boiling water.
"I'm s-sorry, Miss." He stuttered, hands in the air as he cautiously made his way closer. "It was wrong of me a-and I offer my sincerest apologies."
Minerva reached for her bag and added chamomile to the tea she was mixing, all the while her back was to him and she showed no sign of hearing him.
He continued apologizing in German, French, Russian, Polish and even Nepalese. Minerva turned back around and offered him a steaming cup.
"You should be resting."
His eyebrows shot up in surprise but a ghost of a smile tugged his lips. Suddenly his legs shook with weariness and the efforts of the early morning caught up with him. He slowly sunk back onto the makeshift bed. He managed to place his teacup on the floor before succumbing to exhaustion and falling asleep.
Shortly after Braelyn came with food. Her lips were pursed but she said not a word. Their argument from the night before was fresh in both their minds. For two hours Braelyn had tried to persuade Minerva to leave the stranger be but Minerva was stubborn and in the end they had both gone to bed fuming. She stayed only to make sure Minerva ate every last breadcrumb then quickly made her excuses.
It was as Minerva tenderly sponged the man's forehead that he began to stir. She retrieved a three-legged stool and waited by his bedside as his eyes fluttered open. He blinked bleary-eyed until he adjusted to the faint lighting. He was not alarmed by her presence quite the contrary actually. His face broke into a sleepy smile as he carefully pulled himself up into a sitting position. The silence stretched between them as they both regarded each other. Minerva sat back straight; head held high and her left eyebrow arched in slight question. He sat slouched against two pillows; auburn hair and beard fluffy from sleep but his eyes were sparkling bright, with mirth or curiosity Minerva could not determine.
"To whom do I have to thank for such kindness?"
Minerva took a moment to answer. Braelyn's words echoed in her mind. She shoved them aside and answered. "My mother. Under my father's influence you would have been left to die."
But he was not easily dissuaded and surprised her with a direct approach. "What is your name?"
"My name?" Her voice was a tone higher.
His blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "I cannot possibly thank you properly if I do not know your name."
Minerva avoided eye contact and replied in a brisk tone. "Then don't."
"I'm sorry, I do not follow." His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Thank me," she waved her hand. "There is no need. Just make a full recovery."
They fell silent. He leant back and allowed her to change his bandages. She carefully reapplied the foul-smelling, green paste with gentle fingers but still felt him tense. He bit his tongue and swallowed his pain. When she was finished she poured him a glass of water and as he drank she felt his eyes upon her. She tucked a stray strand of jet-black hair behind her ear and chanced a glance in his direction. Their eyes locked and in his depths of blue she felt the whole world lay before her.
"You have a lovely voice." He said softly never once breaking eye contact. Her mouth twitched barely disguising a smile. He took her right hand in his long fingers and brought it to his lips. "Albus Dumbledore, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
She let her hand rest in his relishing in his warmth and took the time to notice his voice was not raspy having had a glass of water. It was a deep, rich tone that softly set her at ease. Too charming for his own good. She mused. "Athena McGinley." She used her mother's maiden name. As for Athena, she was the Roman goddess Minerva's, Greek counterpart. A small play on words but no harm would come of it. It was for her own benefit, in some small way she felt she was not lying to the appealing gentleman just taking liberties with the truth.
"Ah, a goddess healed me back to health; no one will ever believe me."
"Yes, much like the tales legends are made of." Minerva suppressed a chuckle and pulled her hand from his to gently push him back down on the bed. "Now if our hero is to fully recover he must obey orders." She cast a wandless heating charm upon his blanket and pulled it over his chest.
"In the tales the fair maiden sings him to sleep."
Legend has it the hero marries the fair maiden…