Disclaimer: I'm nobody!
Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Good, then neither of us is JKR so we understand that this isn't mine.
(BTW "I'm Nobody" is an Emily Dickinson poem you should read, if you haven't read it, what the heck are you doing reading ff? Go, right now! That's right, now!)
As if belatedly recognizing the tragedy that had taken place in the world, the sky decided to make up for its discordantly bright demeanor of the previous day with a vicious storm the following morning. The sun skulked up the heavens swathed in the russet colored cotton of the clouds. No birds sang, no sunbeams left the confines of the sun's mantle, and the students who had remained at Hogwarts for the holidays glumly attempted to pass the time. Only Fawkes, outside the window of the room Molly and Arthur Weasley slept in, crooned consolingly to the bereft sister.
Molly had improved with a good solid twelve hours of rest. She realized the virtue in continuing to live, something she was forced to do after her parents' deaths as well. The bitter sting of their absence left red streaks on her cheeks and twisted her breath in her chest unexpectedly. But sweeping up her tiny, aberrantly cheerful son, Molly Weasley promised herself that whatever happened, she would never let any of her children die such a terrible death. She and her husband would avoid such organizations as "the Order", it was the only way to live in peace. Waking up to the phoenix's lullaby, Molly congealed her resolve and pulled her baby boy closer to her. Whatever it takes, She vowed determinedly I will protect all of my children from a life of fear.
Arthur stirred from the other side of the bed and mumbled in his sleep. Glancing in his direction, Molly began to process the idea that she could have lost her husband too last night. If they had come a little while earlier, that death eater, that Anton Dolohov, would still have been there. He could have killed Arthur! He nearly did kill Minerva, Molly reminded herself. Her thoughts drifted sympathetically to Albus. The poor man had been at his wife's bedside all night. How terrible it must be to have to wait and wonder. Hoping, praying to the Higher Powers that your child would be spared. Poppy had told Molly about the child. But that had been last night, the doctor said it would be a few days before they knew anything for certain.
Bill squirmed between his parents. His thumb flew like a magnet to his mouth, and he began to lull himself back to sleep. How many more innocent people must die? Molly sighed. But Fawkes' magic was more powerful than the deepest depression. Eyes swooping closed, Molly curled into the security of her tiny family, knowing they were now all she had in this world.
The wind outside the window of St Mungo's seemed to be howling with the souls of the dead, scraping, clawing at the window of the ward, begging entrance to kidnap another innocent prey. Minerva was still sleeping. After a brief conversation with Albus following her return to consciousness, Minerva had tearfully reiterated the tragedy. It had taken all her strength, though, for she slept fitfully, as people often do when they are trying to out run death. Albus gathered the narrative carefully into his memory, and soothed his wife into slumber. He had drifted off a few times during the night, but now, the sound of the macabre, snow-leaden wind prevented any repose. He wanted to talk to the Minister, but was worried about leaving Minerva alone. What if the baby… well, what if something happened while he was gone? But, Healer Bancroft had said it would take a few days for any solid prognosis to surface. Slipping Minerva's hand back onto the sheet, (and how ghostly blue the hand was) Albus stood up and stretched out. His body was not use to such tension. He decided to pay the Minister a visit.
Millicent had been waiting. Waiting for the press to flood her, waiting for another, more terrible attack from Voldemort, waiting for the wizarding world to start demanding answers and action, but most of all, waiting for Albus Dumbledore to stop by to gloat. Granted, Albus Dumbledore was not the gloating type, but his presence proved an irritant whenever Millicent had refused to take his advice and it had cost her (which was the majority of the time she refused his advice (she was beginning to notice a pattern)). But such things were not to be thought of now. Ego and political agendas must be swept aside to provide a united, powerful wizarding community with a plan of defense. I should be writing this down for a press conference later, Millicent absently, and somewhat conceitedly, mused.
Dumbledore chose that particular moment to stride, completely unannounced, into the office. As he marched up to the front of her desk, Millicent felt slightly intimidated. Feeling a desperate need to compensate for this rare sense of fear, the Minister rose from her seat. In truth, this did very little to diminish her boiling apprehension, but at least it gave her a sense of authority. Swallowing the last vestiges of her cowed feelings, she decided to take the offensive (if only briefly) and questioned the advancing Professor.
"Dumbledore, what are you…" She began.
"Don't try to feign innocence," Dumbledore stated quietly, in a terribly foreboding, collect way. He knew his argument well enough that he did not have to be emotional or irate to prove himself. "Surely, you remember our bargain?"
Millicent made what she desperate hoped would form a disarming smile and attempted to slide past this comment, "Well, you see Dumbledore…"
"Let me remind you." Dumbledore again interrupted, only the thinnest film of annoyance flowing over the deceptively serene river of his words. "Shortly after your administration issued the Marriage Law, I dropped in to explain my view on the situation. I cited Voldemort's current power-craze as the reason witches and wizards were afraid of settling down. You scoffed at this, saying Voldemort was harmless, even beneficial, to the general wizarding community." The evenness of his timbre was like that of someone reading a recipe for chicken noodle soup. Millicent was very afraid. "However, you agreed that should Voldemort prove dangerous, you would concede my point and repeal the law."
Millicent nodded her head slowly, biting her lip. All her mental faculties were straining in concert to calculate a viable out to this situation.
"I come before you now," Now, Dumbledore's voice was solemn, even sad, "Laying evidence of Voldemort's malicious intent. His followers, after an attempt to sabotage Hogwarts grounds, ruthlessly killed two young aurors, as well as almost mortally wounding my Deputy Headmistress. I believe the circumstances are now sufficient to prove Voldemort's danger. I ask that you repeal the law, as your part of the bargain."
In that moment, Millicent knew what she had to do, and she wasn't going to like it, "Headmaster, I fully agree that it is high time I hold up my end of the bargain. Recent evidence has shown that the wizarding populace has responded very well to this new urge at patriotic relationships. The number of single wizards dropped significantly in the last two months. As a result, I have decided to repeal the law. After all, it would be foolish to think that everybody can find someone that's right for…"
"But you are not repealing the law because of the attack?" a dangerous cloud, carrying a blizzard (comparable to the one raging outside) of frustrated anger, had slid over Dumbledore's mien.
"I think that attack is too strong a word, Headmaster," Millicent felt like a coward. But she had no option. If she acknowledged Voldemort's power, then that would mean her administration had been incompetent in checking his rise. This would lead to tricky questions in the Ministry. She would also have to come up with a plan of attack, a way to counteract his terrible violence. This would mean loss of lives, something the current wizarding world could not afford at this time, "Really, we have little evidence of what actually occurred…"
"Please don't lie to me, Millicent, it's such a waste of time" And still Dumbledore's voice was infuriatingly even and reserved, "I know what you truly think. You are scared. So scared, in fact, that you believe your only option is to hide. I am sorry Millicent, I thought I knew you better than that." The disappointment that flooded on those terrifyingly placid words nearly tore the Minister's heart in two. Over the years, as they had faced Grindelwald and many other challenges, Millicent had developed a deep respect for Albus Dumbledore. She had always valued his opinion and had tried to maintain his approval at all times. Now it seemed they must part ways.
"Don't you go talking about high morals and truth and light and justice!" Millicent's resolve to remain cool toppled, "You sit peacefully secluded in your castle, protected by Merlin knows how many spells, wards and enchantments, and you think you have the right to point fingers at my morals. May I remind you that I have the entire wizarding population to think about. My standards of right and wrong are insignificant when placed against the greater good!! If I deny this, it is not for lack of courage, but for the people, Albus, for the bloody people. And I refuse to see another mass slaughter like Grendelwald's reign. I will protect the people from that pain as long as I can. You can say what you like about my morals, but don't you dare have the audacity to come in here telling me that "the people need this" or "the people need that" I am the voice of the people! I will protect and decide for them!!"
There was a pause, during which the exhausted Minister returned to her chair, and Dumbledore rose and turned to leave, "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Minister. I hope your new plan of defense works out well." And he was gone. Frustrated, Millicent slumped over her desk, wishing she could be anybody else in the world.
As soon as Albus returned to St Mungo's, he knew something was wrong, there were four healers circling Minerva's bed. All looked very somber, and were bending down to check on her. Albus rushed over. If something had happened while he was away, he would never forgive himself.
He quickly picked out Morton Bancroft from the group and approached him.
"Morton, what's going on?" Dumbledore slipped in between two of the other healers to view his wife.
"They've come to kill my child!!" Minerva screamed abruptly, as the wind cresendoed out side the glass. Her face was pricked with tiny speckles of sweat. Her skin was the color of ashes, except for her cheeks, which seemed aflame. Her eyes shot wildly around the room. Minerva flopped and arched helplessly on the bed, struggling with unknown terrors. Her cry had stolen Albus' breath. He stood aghast at the shade his wife had become. Minerva was cadaverous. Normally a serenely thin woman, the professor had crossed the border into unhealthily gaunt. Minerva's fever-wracked frame seemed so pathetic and sorrowful that Albus had to concentrate for a moment on controlling his tears. Tears were the last thing his wife needed. Bancroft stepped to the side and spoke in a terribly cold, even tone that bordered on macabre.
"Two hours ago, shortly after you left," Albus inwardly flogged himself for ever leaving her side, "Minerva woke up shivering and sweating. One of the healers-in-training saw her and went over to give her a blanket. As soon as Minerva saw the healer, she started ranting just like she is now. We think it's a side effect of Dolohov's curses. You see, none of his victims had ever lived this long, so we've never noted the side effects. Apparently, this is one of them. I don't need to tell you this is dangerous. If she doesn't pull out of it in a few hours, she'll loose all hope of keeping the child. Not only that, if she continues to rant like this all night, Minerva might not even make it. I know you two are CLOSE," Bancroft issued a soft cough, "Poppy had stopped by to see how she was doing, and when she heard what had happened… well, you see, during her ranting, Minerva has called your name quite frequently, and Poppy thought it best to explain to me why that was. I actually implied something slightly less…legitimate… might be going on, and she became rather defensive to be honest. But as it stands, Minerva needs you. Hopefully, you can calm her down. We've tried every spell available to us, and the fever has wriggled around them all. I'm afraid that, for the time being, you're our best hope, Dumbledore." Bancroft's eyes looked solemn and soft. Even as a Healer, he still had a deep respect for Minerva McGonagall. Truth be known, he had had a crush on her in their fifth year at Hogwarts. Seeing two noble people suffer like this was sad for any human being, healer or no.
Throughout this outpouring of information, Albus had merely nodded as he attempted to glean as much as he could. His Minerva was in trouble that was all his mind had to comprehend. He numbly approached the bed, which was still of jumble of sheets, sweat and Minerva's struggling body. Seeing his wife again, he could stand no more. Albus Dumbledore became the most powerful wizard of the age once again. He sat on the edge of Minerva's bed and caught up one of her flailing arms. Simultaneously, Minerva's gaze locked on his. There was a terribly blank moment when Minerva simply stared, unrecognizing, back. Then she started sobbing again, only now, she collapsed into her husband's arms and relinquished the fight against her invisible assailants. Albus would protect her.
Meanwhile, Bancroft had dismissed the other healers. He stood to the side, smiling inaudibly, despite the near-fatal nature of the situation. Watching this couple had warmed his heart with a deeper faith in true love. From a distance, he cast a spell to determine if Minerva's fever was receding. It was, though not a quickly as he would have liked. The healer had done all in his power, now he decided to leave the rest to love's power. Morton slipped out of the ward.
Albus discreetly summoned Fawkes as he held his sobbing wife. There was a slight chance his tears could help lower Minerva's fever and save their child.
Fawkes snapped onto the bedside table. As soon as his gentle eyes had swooped over the scene, he bawled gently, his head rubbing Albus' shoulder. From the moment he had met Minerva, Fawkes had gotten along very well with the Deputy Headmistress. He had even helped Albus fulfill his plan to propose to Minerva. Sometimes Albus suspected Fawkes loved Minerva more. Now, the bird crooned sorrowfully at the pitiful figure before him. Hearing the consoling note, Albus turned, and the look in his eye was all the instruction the phoenix needed. He hopped onto the bed and nudged Minerva's mouth with his beak. Minerva had given in to exhaustion and was traversing a fitful, feverish sleep. Propping open Minerva's mouth, Albus nodded to the phoenix. Fawkes cried and his tears seemed more genuine than any human's could ever be. Five tears fell into Minerva's mouth. After that, Fawkes fluted a lullaby to his faithful master and mistress, and then slipped off in flame.
Albus was asleep next to Minerva when Bancroft walked into the room twenty minutes later. He routinely checked Minerva's vitals. He was shocked to find no fever at all. In fact, it as impossible to tell that a fever had ravaged her body at all. Holding his breath, he checked the baby's condition. As if by a miracle, the baby was completely healthy, with a strong heartbeat. The fetus showed no stress whatsoever. Morton had never been a great believer in miracles, and rarely ever indulged in sentimentality, being a healer. But seeing the effect the strong love between these two wizards was beginning to soften his outlook.
As he turned to leave the couple in peace, Albus woke. Seeing the Healer's back, Albus whispered after Minerva's health.
"I don't know what you did, Dumbledore, but Minerva is fine now." A smile slid on his face as he watched relief fill the Headmaster's eyes, "And I have some even better news. The baby is miraculously healthy. It's truly miraculous." He repeated the word because it tasted awkward to his tongue. He hardly ever used it anymore. Bancroft was enveloped in an ecstatic, overly enthusiastic hug from the father to be.
A/N Well, only planning two more chapters. Please review. I love your feedback, criticism is appreciated, heck, even flames, I love hearing your opinions, and you have been so generous with them before! Thank you all!! So sorry about the consistently long period between updates, but if I could explain to you the nature of my life…