A/N - I know I said this would be up sooner, but I was sick yesterday. So I have an excuse. Have a little understanding, K? Now, on with the story!
* * *
Minerva undressed in Albus' bathroom and pulled a nightdress over her head. She was brushing her hair when a knock came at the door, closely followed by Albus' voice.
"Minerva? May I enter?"
"Yes, come in Albus," she called. The door opened and she watched him approach in the mirror. He came up behind her and took the brush out of her hand, then continued her task of combing out the tangles in her hair. A few moments later her long, straight black hair hung in an untangled wave down to the middle of her back. Albus studied her from behind and also in the mirror in front of her. She had gained back most of the weight she had lost when she had been held by the Dark Lord, and her eyes, though still haunted, had lost some of the torture they had once held. Her skin looked healthy and her body was that of a woman in the prime of life. Albus reached around and gently brushed a lock of hair off her forehead then leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
"It's nearly midnight," he said, glancing at his watch.
"Mmm," said Minerva, but she stood up and followed him into the bedroom. She pulled back the blankets and climbed in. Albus put out the lights with a wave of his wand and joined her. She snuggled up against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, wrapping her in safe, warm love. She felt so secure in his arms, and to her vague surprise, she also felt sleep claiming her. The last thing she heard before falling asleep was Albus' contented sigh, and then there was nothing.
* * *
A shaft of silver moonlight slanted in through the window of a nursery in Godric's Hollow, falling on the baby boy lying asleep in his crib. His parents stood beside him watching him sleep.
"He's so precious," Lily whispered. She rested her head on James' shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.
"He is," he agreed. "Come, let us go downstairs."
* * *
The blissful nothing that filled Minerva's sleeping world soon became one of the all too familiar nightmares. She turned over in her sleep in a feeble attempt to get away from the image of Voldemort's Finland stronghold, but it stayed with her.
It was a room with stone walls, the same room Minerva had been imprisoned in before. She was chained to the wall again, and in front of her three Death Eaters surrounded Albus Dumbledore. His glasses, the familiar half-moon spectacles, were gone, and his light blue eyes no longer sparkled. His hands were tied behind his back, and blood from a head wound trickled down into his silver hair. The Death Eaters forced him to his knees, and he went, his long legs collapsing under him as he fell to the hard stone floor. He let out a quickly stifled cry, pain radiating upwards from where his knees had struck the floor.
"Be quiet, you old fool," one of the Death Eaters snapped. The man kicked Albus hard in the ribs, and he went sprawling face down on the cold floor. When the Death Eaters pulled him back up, the lower half of his face was covered in blood from a heavy nosebleed. Minerva struggled in her chains, but they did not give way, and she couldn't seem to use her voice properly. All she could get out were a few indistinct though furious noises.
"Now," said a blonde Death Eater who seemed to be the leader, "We have a deal to offer you, old man. If you tell us what you know, we will release her unharmed." He jerked his head towards Minerva, who seemed to have found her voice at last.
"No," she cried. The one word was all she could muster, but it was enough. Albus shook his head. There was an infinite sadness in his eyes. Two of the Death Eaters positioned themselves beside Minerva.
"Are you sure?" asked the leader.
Both Minerva and Albus nodded at the same time. The two Death Eaters looked to the leader.
"Shall we kill her?" they asked. The blonde wizard shook his head.
"No, I think not. We'll kill him first." The two Death Eaters left Minerva's side without question and went back to surrounding Albus.
"How shall we do it?" asked one of them with a toothy grin.
The leader paused to consider for a moment.
"We'll carve the Dark Mark into his forehead first," he said with a grin of his own. His two henchmen forced Albus to his feet and pinned him to the wall. They held him there as their leader approached with a knife. The one dim shaft of sunlight in the room glinted off the blade. Albus did not even struggle as the blonde wizard raised the knife and began to carve the image of the Dark Mark into his forehead. Blood ran down his face from where the knife met his skin and dripped onto the floor. There was so much blood . . . It ran into Albus' snow white beard, turning it a dull maroon, the colour of death . . . The smell of blood hung heavy in the air . . . The Death Eaters had bared her lover's chest and were now carving the Dark Mark there too . . . The sound of the knife cutting into flesh sounded strangely loud in the still room . . . and Minerva began to scream . . .
She woke abruptly, panting, and reached for Albus. That dream had been so vivid, so real . . . She tangled her hands in Albus' beard, pulling him close to her, and her lips found his unblemished forehead. She kissed him frantically, reaching under his nightshirt of run her hands up his chest, but they came away without any taint of blood, and Albus, awake now, had seized her wrists.
"Minerva," he demanded. "What is wrong?"
"It was a nightmare," she panted. "The Death Eaters – they had you, and they were going to kill you – but first they carved the Dark Mark into your forehead – "
"Shhh," Albus soothed, not wanting to hear any more. He cradled Minerva's head in his hands and stroked her cheek with a gentle thumb. She calmed under his touch, and after a moment even had the presence of mind to apologise for being so excitable.
"It's just that I'm so exhausted, Albus. I – " He interrupted her with a soft kiss, and pulled the blankets back up over them. Minerva gave herself up to his embrace, and hoped for the gift of unblemished sleep to come to her.
* * *
In a boarded-up cottage several miles to the south, a werewolf threw itself at the door. It howled, the sound carrying across the still night and giving the nearby people nightmares. The werewolf could sense that something was wrong. Evil was abroad. He wanted to join it, to satisfy his bloodlust. His human self, battling for control inside of him, wanted to stop it. The werewolf wanted only to bite, to savage, to taste blood. The man wanted to protect.
Lupin twisted his head and bit himself, hard, on his left haunch. His muzzle came away covered in his own blood. Pain exploded through his body, mingling with the ecstasy of the taste of blood, and he gave himself to a howl that echoed around the countryside in the silver moonlight.
* * *
Sirius Black shivered as the werewolf's howl reached his ears. I'm sorry, Moony, he thought. Next month I'll transform with you. He pointed his flying motorbike down toward the small house where his friend Wormtail was in hiding, forcing his mind firmly on his mission once again. There were no lights on in the small two-story. Perhaps Wormtail was asleep. It was nearly midnight, after all. Sirius landed smoothly, and headed up the front walk.
The door was unlocked. Strange. Sirius let himself in and flicked on a light.
"Wormtail?" he called. "Peter? Wormtail old buddy, are you here?"
Silence. His heart beating faster, Sirius began to prowl the house, looking for his friend.
Wormtail was not there. There was no sign of a struggle, yet the Secret-Keeper was gone.
"Oh, damn," Sirius gasped. He knew what this had to mean. Lily and James – Harry –
"I'm coming Prongs," he shouted to the night, firing up the motorbike. But the tears that ran down his face as he flew were not entirely due to the cold wind rushing past his face.
* * *
A sudden wind had sprung up, rattling the foundations of the house in Godric's Hollow. The old Quidditch broom that had been leaning up against the wall fell with a loud crack. James and Lily Potter looked at each other.
"That's not a normal wind," James said softly. Lily's eyes had widened in fear.
"James, you don't think – " she began, but he placed a finger on her lips, silencing her.
"No, Peter wouldn't betray us," he said. "I'll go check and see what's going on."
He got up and left the room, leaving Lily sitting alone on the sofa. She could feel magic swirling around her in the wind that was battering the house. She had always been able to sense magic more strongly than anyone she had ever met, except perhaps Dumbledore. She could also quite accurately sense the intent of magic, and this was pure evil. She got up and followed James into the kitchen, but before she had crossed the threshold, a flash of blue light lit the air outside. James snatched up his wand from the kitchen table, and turned to her, panicking.
"Lily, take Harry and go!" he shouted. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"
Lily stumbled automatically from the room, hurrying for the stairs. Then, from behind her, she heard the door burst open – a cackle of high-pitched laughter – James' voice, and Voldemort's – she had reached the stairs – she was stumbling numbly upwards towards Harry –
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light lit the whole house. Lily tripped and went down on the stairs. Sobbing now, she clawed up the remaining steps on her hands and knees.
Voldemort found her in the nursery. She struggled to her feet in front of Harry's crib.
"Stand aside," Voldemort commanded, raising his wand.
"No!" Lily cried. "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside," Voldemort repeated. "Stand aside, girl!"
Tears rushed down Lily's face; she was screaming hysterically, knowing the end was near.
"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything – "
Voldemort laughed.
"Not Harry," Lily said again frantically, "Please, no, take me, kill me instead – "
The Dark Lord laughed again. "Get out of my way, you foolish girl, or I will kill you. Then I'll murder the brat."
"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy – have mercy!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Two words, and Lily Potter was dead. Now the path was clear to the boy the Dark Lord so wanted to kill.
"Goodbye, Harry Potter," he whispered, aiming his wand into the crib. The baby was crying – why wasn't his mother coming to comfort him? Who was this strange man? Voldemort laughed softly, and suddenly baby Harry stopped crying. He felt warm and safe again, as if he was wrapped in his mother's arms . . .
"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort whispered, his red eyes gleaming maniacally.
But the flash of green light, instead of killing Harry Potter, bounced back and consumed Voldemort, destroying the house in the process.
A high scream rent the air. The Dark Lord's body dissolved, leaving behind only a malevolent bit of energy dulling the clarity of the air where it hung. The strong wind that still blew carried it away, away to Albania . . .
And in Godric's Hollow, an infant wailed as flames licked the wreckage around him.