2 - Minerva's Story
She re-lived it as she re-told it, and, even though Dumbledore had given her a spare warm cloak to wrap around her shoulders and she was now seated in one of his squishy soft chairs by the fire, it was still one of the most uncomfortable experiences of her life.
Nothing but the deepest love could have could have persuaded Minerva McGonagall, a passionate, fiery and individualistic but ultimately sensible girl to abandon everything she knew - hopes, dreams, family, school, in the pursuit of a fairytale that could never be.
"Funnily enough, the first major story of my life begins with running away, too." And as she spoke, she remembered.
With a shriek of laughter she fell from her bedroom window into the waiting arms of the most beautiful man she had ever known. Sebastian laughed at the expression of shock on her face; she had been attempting to scale the drainpipe, but had lost her balance halfway. He seemed to have known she would, her coordination when inside her human form had never been one overly wonderful. She didn't understand, having been at the other end, how anybodies could be - humans were big and gangly and unsuited to climbing.
Minerva gazed at him from her position clutched close to his chest, at the wispy black hair hanging about his face that had come loose from the long ponytail down his back, at the square shape of his jaw, quivering with laughter, at his dark eyes glittering as they caught shafts of moonlight.
"Kiss me." She murmured, spinning in her love for him, twirling in stars, the heady night seeming to vibrate around her, as if everything was somehow more alive when you were in love.
He pressed his lips to hers and she felt a wild, animal thrill, as much from the kiss as from the knowledge of the freedom that was on her horizon, and what it meant for her life with him.
"We were going to be married. I come from a very old, very respected, very pure blood family. Sebastian was a muggle. He knew what I was, in some sense, and he loved it. I didn't care that he had no magic, my family's issue of pure blood has never been and issue for me.
I went to MacNaughten's, you know, the Scottish Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But I had my OWL's, I was seventeen. An 'O' in transfiguration, 'E's in everything else. I would have done well in my NEWT's, but love blinded me to all that. All I knew was that I wanted to be with Sebastian forever, and if the only way to do that was to abandon everything I had ever known, I would.
I'm nineteen now. I never knew two years could change a person so much."
The wind whipped her hair against her face as they sped along the highway, Minerva's legs tightly locked around Sebastian's waist, arms around his middle, a huge, beast like motorbike carrying them away through the night.
Freedom elated Minerva, her heart and soul soared with happiness high above her body as they rode, and thoughts of her new life filled her with excitement. An amazing adventure. That was what it would be. She would live like a gypsy in the arms of her lover, moving from town to town whenever the wind took her.
They drove for hours that night, and eventually the excitement faded to exhaustion and Minerva's eyes drifted closed, head resting against Sebastian's back. She was, he thought, still rather like a child, the girlish laughter that bubbled from her being and the romantic ideas she had. He loved it about her, loved her for her innocence and naivety as much as for her fiery, individual spirit. He knew she was a witch. She had told him when the subject of running away had first come up, as if it were some test to see if he really cared. He didn't mind at all. Actually, he thought it was rather cool.
When Minerva woke, it was in Sebastian's arms once again. He had lifted her off the bike and was laying her down on a bed in what appeared to be a rather dingy little room.
She blinked repeatedly, trying to shake from the lethargy that gripped her. "Wha.? Where are we?" she mumbled, staring up at him from under her heavy eyelids.
"Shhh." He whispered, running his fingers through her long, mousey curls and pushing them off her brow. "We're in London."
She was suddenly awake. "London?!" she exclaimed.
Sebastian chuckled. "London." He repeated.
"From Glasgow to London in one night? Seb, you must be exhausted." She reached up to touch his cheek; he was lying on his side on the bed beside her.
"Oh, I am, Minny." For the first time she seemed to notice that his eyelids looked heavy as well, and there were the beginnings of dark circles forming beneath them. But despite this, he smiled, folding his arms around her. She burrowed into his warm chest and listened to the beating of his heart. "But it doesn't matter. We're free, and we're here, and we're together. Tomorrow, once I've had some sleep, I'll show you London."
"I can't wait," she murmured, "I've never been to London before." She turned her head up to kiss him. "I love you, Seb."
"You too, Minny." His fingers traced her hairline, twisting one of her curls around his thumb, and silence descended upon them, broken only when, minutes later, Sebastian began to snore. Minerva snuggled even further against him and closed her eyes once again.
Tears glistened on Minerva's eyelashes, but they were quickly evaporated by the heat from the fire roaring in the hearth. Dumbledore had not interrupted her once, just sat there drinking in what she had said, and weighing her but not judging her with those amazing blue eyes.
"I received an owl from my parents the very next day, in reply to the message I had left them on my pillow. I was no longer their daughter, they said, and something about muggle scum. I didn't care. I was in love. If only things could have stayed the way they had begun that first night."
An audible intake of breath from Dumbledore signalled his first interruption in her speech. "But that, I think, is a story for tomorrow. You look quite exhausted. Perhaps I should run you a bath, you might like to. clean up." That was all he said, but she knew he must be thinking of the bloodstained nightgown and what must certainly be hidden beneath it, inhibiting her comfort. "That sound good?" he asked gently.
Minerva nodded.
"Well, I'll be back in a moment, then." He handed her his wand. "You might like to conjure yourself up some new robes. I could do it for you but I think you'd find my taste in clothes is quite appalling." A smile formed beneath his auburn beard, and he turned on his heal and disappeared up the hall behind him.
More tears stung behind Minerva's eyes as she watched his back. This time they were not tears of sadness, though, but disbelief. How could she have stumbled upon this man, and what made him so kind? Something about those twinkling blue eyes and soft voice inspired trust and loyalty, and something in his manner spoke of immense wisdom and knowledge. For the first time that night, Minerva McGonagall was touched by the magic that was Albus Dumbledore.
She re-lived it as she re-told it, and, even though Dumbledore had given her a spare warm cloak to wrap around her shoulders and she was now seated in one of his squishy soft chairs by the fire, it was still one of the most uncomfortable experiences of her life.
Nothing but the deepest love could have could have persuaded Minerva McGonagall, a passionate, fiery and individualistic but ultimately sensible girl to abandon everything she knew - hopes, dreams, family, school, in the pursuit of a fairytale that could never be.
"Funnily enough, the first major story of my life begins with running away, too." And as she spoke, she remembered.
With a shriek of laughter she fell from her bedroom window into the waiting arms of the most beautiful man she had ever known. Sebastian laughed at the expression of shock on her face; she had been attempting to scale the drainpipe, but had lost her balance halfway. He seemed to have known she would, her coordination when inside her human form had never been one overly wonderful. She didn't understand, having been at the other end, how anybodies could be - humans were big and gangly and unsuited to climbing.
Minerva gazed at him from her position clutched close to his chest, at the wispy black hair hanging about his face that had come loose from the long ponytail down his back, at the square shape of his jaw, quivering with laughter, at his dark eyes glittering as they caught shafts of moonlight.
"Kiss me." She murmured, spinning in her love for him, twirling in stars, the heady night seeming to vibrate around her, as if everything was somehow more alive when you were in love.
He pressed his lips to hers and she felt a wild, animal thrill, as much from the kiss as from the knowledge of the freedom that was on her horizon, and what it meant for her life with him.
"We were going to be married. I come from a very old, very respected, very pure blood family. Sebastian was a muggle. He knew what I was, in some sense, and he loved it. I didn't care that he had no magic, my family's issue of pure blood has never been and issue for me.
I went to MacNaughten's, you know, the Scottish Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But I had my OWL's, I was seventeen. An 'O' in transfiguration, 'E's in everything else. I would have done well in my NEWT's, but love blinded me to all that. All I knew was that I wanted to be with Sebastian forever, and if the only way to do that was to abandon everything I had ever known, I would.
I'm nineteen now. I never knew two years could change a person so much."
The wind whipped her hair against her face as they sped along the highway, Minerva's legs tightly locked around Sebastian's waist, arms around his middle, a huge, beast like motorbike carrying them away through the night.
Freedom elated Minerva, her heart and soul soared with happiness high above her body as they rode, and thoughts of her new life filled her with excitement. An amazing adventure. That was what it would be. She would live like a gypsy in the arms of her lover, moving from town to town whenever the wind took her.
They drove for hours that night, and eventually the excitement faded to exhaustion and Minerva's eyes drifted closed, head resting against Sebastian's back. She was, he thought, still rather like a child, the girlish laughter that bubbled from her being and the romantic ideas she had. He loved it about her, loved her for her innocence and naivety as much as for her fiery, individual spirit. He knew she was a witch. She had told him when the subject of running away had first come up, as if it were some test to see if he really cared. He didn't mind at all. Actually, he thought it was rather cool.
When Minerva woke, it was in Sebastian's arms once again. He had lifted her off the bike and was laying her down on a bed in what appeared to be a rather dingy little room.
She blinked repeatedly, trying to shake from the lethargy that gripped her. "Wha.? Where are we?" she mumbled, staring up at him from under her heavy eyelids.
"Shhh." He whispered, running his fingers through her long, mousey curls and pushing them off her brow. "We're in London."
She was suddenly awake. "London?!" she exclaimed.
Sebastian chuckled. "London." He repeated.
"From Glasgow to London in one night? Seb, you must be exhausted." She reached up to touch his cheek; he was lying on his side on the bed beside her.
"Oh, I am, Minny." For the first time she seemed to notice that his eyelids looked heavy as well, and there were the beginnings of dark circles forming beneath them. But despite this, he smiled, folding his arms around her. She burrowed into his warm chest and listened to the beating of his heart. "But it doesn't matter. We're free, and we're here, and we're together. Tomorrow, once I've had some sleep, I'll show you London."
"I can't wait," she murmured, "I've never been to London before." She turned her head up to kiss him. "I love you, Seb."
"You too, Minny." His fingers traced her hairline, twisting one of her curls around his thumb, and silence descended upon them, broken only when, minutes later, Sebastian began to snore. Minerva snuggled even further against him and closed her eyes once again.
Tears glistened on Minerva's eyelashes, but they were quickly evaporated by the heat from the fire roaring in the hearth. Dumbledore had not interrupted her once, just sat there drinking in what she had said, and weighing her but not judging her with those amazing blue eyes.
"I received an owl from my parents the very next day, in reply to the message I had left them on my pillow. I was no longer their daughter, they said, and something about muggle scum. I didn't care. I was in love. If only things could have stayed the way they had begun that first night."
An audible intake of breath from Dumbledore signalled his first interruption in her speech. "But that, I think, is a story for tomorrow. You look quite exhausted. Perhaps I should run you a bath, you might like to. clean up." That was all he said, but she knew he must be thinking of the bloodstained nightgown and what must certainly be hidden beneath it, inhibiting her comfort. "That sound good?" he asked gently.
Minerva nodded.
"Well, I'll be back in a moment, then." He handed her his wand. "You might like to conjure yourself up some new robes. I could do it for you but I think you'd find my taste in clothes is quite appalling." A smile formed beneath his auburn beard, and he turned on his heal and disappeared up the hall behind him.
More tears stung behind Minerva's eyes as she watched his back. This time they were not tears of sadness, though, but disbelief. How could she have stumbled upon this man, and what made him so kind? Something about those twinkling blue eyes and soft voice inspired trust and loyalty, and something in his manner spoke of immense wisdom and knowledge. For the first time that night, Minerva McGonagall was touched by the magic that was Albus Dumbledore.