4 - Keeper Of The Key
"Sebastian certainly did show me the sights of London the next day, his London. The poor but ultimately happy East End, the pubs and bars and the people that he knew. London was like nowhere I had ever been before, it was big, and its underbelly even bigger, and I did not at first understand all the layers of the ancient city. I probably still don't, but I think I am not arrogant in saying I understand the layers of life more completely than I did then, even if it was only two years ago. I know what it is like to love, to live, to fear, and to lose." She trailed off. Minerva was sitting once again in the squishy armchair by Dumbledore's fire; she seemed to have claimed it as her own. Tears stung behind her eyes again at her words and the thoughts they dredged up, but she fought them back. The blood had abated the previous night, and the pain was gone, but now she felt empty, in more than one sense. The flower she had been nurturing for the past four months had wilted, and the knowledge that she would never see it grow or blossom left her with a strong sense of grief at what she would never know.
Albus watched her, and she was sure in some way he could read her mind, because he did not need to ask what she was thinking. He simply nodded, the expression of deepest sympathy on his face.
She shifted in her seat. Somehow, she felt even more exposed now than she had the previous night, when she had been so absorbed in her grief and thoughts that she had not even really been aware of her surroundings. Now, even though she was wrapped in a luxurious fluffy red dressing gown and warm tartan pyjamas of her own creation, his penetrating eyes made her feel more naked than she had ever felt before. She sipped her pumpkin juice and nibbled at a piece of bacon before speaking again.
With one hand wrapped around hers, Sebastian lead Minerva through the open door of a dusty pub. That was the only way to describe it - dusty. A heavy layer of grey grit smeared everything in sight, but the bars inhabitants were smiling and laughing, huge mugs of larger clutched in plump hands. She looked around. Sebastian was waving at a group of rough looking individuals, mostly men but a few women slightly older than her that looked nothing like how she perceived herself.
"Minny, there are some people I want you to meet." He smiled at her, weaving through the crowd, fingers gripping hers as she trailed him between a fat man drinking and a hooker with breasts pushed up who was trying to deaden her senses with what looked like a very hearty helping of whisky.
"Hi." Sebastian was shaking hands and smiling, taking the offer of a cigarette and inclining his head to accept the light. Taking it from between his lips for a moment, he tugged Minerva's hand so she was brought up by his side.
"Everyone, this is Minny. Minerva." He corrected himself at a glance from her, Minny was his private name for her, nobody else called her that and she didn't really want them to start. He gestured around the table. "Minny - Matthew," a tall man with a button nose and small hazel eyes, mousy hair and a vacant expression; "Thom," a broad shouldered fellow with a black beard and a huge smile; "Vivica," a reedy blonde woman with fine hair and pointed features, "Orton," a very good looking man, tall, dark and handsome like Sebastian himself, dressed in leathers and with a cheeky smile; "Cynthia," a pale dark haired woman with hawklike features who surveyed Minerva with beady, judgmental eyes; "And Mike," a short timid sort of bloke who smiled sheepishly and buried his face in his mug of beer.
Minerva smiled in an unsure sort of way and said an awkward "Hi". She hated introductions. She felt as out of place as she would have if they had known she was a witch, standing there with them all eyeing her as one eyes a rather odd looking product in a supermarket - they, like she, had noticed that she was nothing like them. She was well dressed - elegant, even, in a casual sort of way. Her hair, even though she had only brushed it through once, sat in gorgeously dishevelled curls. She was effortlessly beautiful. She wore a modest but figure hugging black jumper and a long emerald green skirt that brought out the brilliant colour of her eyes.
Sebastian was speaking to her. "What would you like to drink?" he asked her as they all resumed their conversations.
"Gillywat." she trailed off at his vacant expression. "Sorry. I don't know, what do muggles drink?"
He eyed her with a small amount of frustration. "I would appreciate if you didn't call me that." To him it sounded insulting, but to her such a term was as normal as mentioning a persons nationality.
"I'm sorry," she apologised again, "Surprise me or something, I've never been to. they serve very different drinks in the pubs that I have ever been to."
Sebastian nodded. He didn't seem to realise how hard this was for her, how different it all was. Obviously, when she had told him she was a witch, and shown him what she could do, he had not really realised how much of a lifestyle it was, and how very different from his muggle existence. He had looked at her funnily that morning when she had asked him how to use a microwave, and, when she explained to him that they didn't have electricity in the wizarding world, he had looked at her as though she were backward. 'Magic interferes' she had explained, to which he had shaken his head as though to dislodge some unpleasant thoughts.
He pushed through the crowd again to the bar, and Minerva slid into the nearest vacant chair.
"So what do you do?" she was immediately accosted by Cynthia. It was just a question, but the way the woman looked at her, surveying her from underneath severely plucked eyebrows and smiling with a false, sugar sweet grimace made Minerva feel like she was being interrogated.
"Oh. well, nothing, really, I left school to come here with Seb." She looked Cynthia in the eye, watching for her reaction. She need not have looked so closely. Cynthia's mouth spread into a wide, condescending smile.
"You did, did you?"
Minerva nodded. Cynthia turned away for a moment to pluck at the sleeve of the other woman's top, and Vivica turned on her as well. She suddenly realised what a bug caught in a jar must feel like. A sudden urge to transform into a cat and flee grabbed her, but she fought against it and gripped the table instead.
"Going to be married, are you?" she asked sarcastically, and Vivica laughed.
"Well, that was the plan." Minerva felt wounded, but at the same time, slightly suspicious. How had she guessed that? Sebastian hadn't done this kind of thing before, had he? The two exchanged meaningful glances, but said nothing.
"So," Minerva asked, "How do you two know Seb?"
"Oh, here and there. We meet through friends, business, all kinds of things. I can't actually remember how I met him, but yeah. been in this circle for a while now." Minerva nodded. Silence descended upon them for a time, before Minerva was rescued by Sebastian, sweeping back to the table with a mug of beer and a tall, brightly coloured drink with a piece of pineapple on the side of the glass.
"There you go, my love." He said with a smile and a flourish of the hand, "Hope you like it." He winked at her, a private message between the two of them.
Minerva's eyes glittered as she took it from him, the stars of her love glistening in the green orbs. She smiled and her eyes followed him as he wove back through the crowd, watching him smile, chat, roar with laughter. She sipped her drink and found it pleasantly sweet with a rich, alcoholic undertone, and suddenly she decided that she care one whit for Cynthia and Vivica's condescending, meaningful looks, they simply didn't understand that she and Seb were the only ones for each other.
The evening passed in a haze of conversation, laughter and more of those pineapple things, and it wasn't until much later in the night that Minerva was dragged, unceremoniously and with a shudder, back into the world she had so easily left behind.
She pushed her way through the crowd toward the ladies room, brushing up against people as she went, when suddenly she felt a strong hand grab tight on her wrist. Gasping and jumping in fright, she looked down and made to tug her wrist away.
He was large, gnarled and mean looking, with mangy white hair and a hooked nose. His eyes were uncannily pale, irises a very pale blue almost as white as the rest. He smiled as she looked down, thin lips twisting into a grin that exposed very yellow teeth. "Hello, witch." He hissed, somehow loud enough for her to hear but not for anybody else. She looked down upon him in horror - how could he know?
"You stand out like a phoenix in a forest!" he cackled with laughter, a mean spirited, dry sound. "Don't think I don't know what you are!" She wrenched her hand from his grip and tried to push past him. This time he didn't reach out to touch her, but his words stopped her more effectively than anything else he could have done.
"You're the Keeper of the Key."
She turned her face to look at him, eyes wide with shock, backed away a step, hand inadvertently rising to her clutch at her throat.
"Yes," he nodded, "And don't you dare think that running away into the muggle world will mean people will want it any less."
Albus Dumbledore raised an eyebrow lazily, eyes surveying her with interest. "The Keeper of the Key?" he asked quietly.
"Yes." Minerva's voice shook, and as Albus watched she reached up to her throat and grabbed at something he could not see. She wrenched it from around her neck and he watched as a fine gold chain materialised in her hand, and she pulled it from beneath her robe and tossed it to the table. A golden locket the size of a matchbox fell open, and inside lay a small gold skeleton key, its end encrusted with a string of sapphires.
"Oh." Dumbledore's mouth made a small 'o' and his eyes lit with understanding. "Oh!" Surprise dawned on him, then even deeper understanding. "I appreciate everything now."
"Sebastian certainly did show me the sights of London the next day, his London. The poor but ultimately happy East End, the pubs and bars and the people that he knew. London was like nowhere I had ever been before, it was big, and its underbelly even bigger, and I did not at first understand all the layers of the ancient city. I probably still don't, but I think I am not arrogant in saying I understand the layers of life more completely than I did then, even if it was only two years ago. I know what it is like to love, to live, to fear, and to lose." She trailed off. Minerva was sitting once again in the squishy armchair by Dumbledore's fire; she seemed to have claimed it as her own. Tears stung behind her eyes again at her words and the thoughts they dredged up, but she fought them back. The blood had abated the previous night, and the pain was gone, but now she felt empty, in more than one sense. The flower she had been nurturing for the past four months had wilted, and the knowledge that she would never see it grow or blossom left her with a strong sense of grief at what she would never know.
Albus watched her, and she was sure in some way he could read her mind, because he did not need to ask what she was thinking. He simply nodded, the expression of deepest sympathy on his face.
She shifted in her seat. Somehow, she felt even more exposed now than she had the previous night, when she had been so absorbed in her grief and thoughts that she had not even really been aware of her surroundings. Now, even though she was wrapped in a luxurious fluffy red dressing gown and warm tartan pyjamas of her own creation, his penetrating eyes made her feel more naked than she had ever felt before. She sipped her pumpkin juice and nibbled at a piece of bacon before speaking again.
With one hand wrapped around hers, Sebastian lead Minerva through the open door of a dusty pub. That was the only way to describe it - dusty. A heavy layer of grey grit smeared everything in sight, but the bars inhabitants were smiling and laughing, huge mugs of larger clutched in plump hands. She looked around. Sebastian was waving at a group of rough looking individuals, mostly men but a few women slightly older than her that looked nothing like how she perceived herself.
"Minny, there are some people I want you to meet." He smiled at her, weaving through the crowd, fingers gripping hers as she trailed him between a fat man drinking and a hooker with breasts pushed up who was trying to deaden her senses with what looked like a very hearty helping of whisky.
"Hi." Sebastian was shaking hands and smiling, taking the offer of a cigarette and inclining his head to accept the light. Taking it from between his lips for a moment, he tugged Minerva's hand so she was brought up by his side.
"Everyone, this is Minny. Minerva." He corrected himself at a glance from her, Minny was his private name for her, nobody else called her that and she didn't really want them to start. He gestured around the table. "Minny - Matthew," a tall man with a button nose and small hazel eyes, mousy hair and a vacant expression; "Thom," a broad shouldered fellow with a black beard and a huge smile; "Vivica," a reedy blonde woman with fine hair and pointed features, "Orton," a very good looking man, tall, dark and handsome like Sebastian himself, dressed in leathers and with a cheeky smile; "Cynthia," a pale dark haired woman with hawklike features who surveyed Minerva with beady, judgmental eyes; "And Mike," a short timid sort of bloke who smiled sheepishly and buried his face in his mug of beer.
Minerva smiled in an unsure sort of way and said an awkward "Hi". She hated introductions. She felt as out of place as she would have if they had known she was a witch, standing there with them all eyeing her as one eyes a rather odd looking product in a supermarket - they, like she, had noticed that she was nothing like them. She was well dressed - elegant, even, in a casual sort of way. Her hair, even though she had only brushed it through once, sat in gorgeously dishevelled curls. She was effortlessly beautiful. She wore a modest but figure hugging black jumper and a long emerald green skirt that brought out the brilliant colour of her eyes.
Sebastian was speaking to her. "What would you like to drink?" he asked her as they all resumed their conversations.
"Gillywat." she trailed off at his vacant expression. "Sorry. I don't know, what do muggles drink?"
He eyed her with a small amount of frustration. "I would appreciate if you didn't call me that." To him it sounded insulting, but to her such a term was as normal as mentioning a persons nationality.
"I'm sorry," she apologised again, "Surprise me or something, I've never been to. they serve very different drinks in the pubs that I have ever been to."
Sebastian nodded. He didn't seem to realise how hard this was for her, how different it all was. Obviously, when she had told him she was a witch, and shown him what she could do, he had not really realised how much of a lifestyle it was, and how very different from his muggle existence. He had looked at her funnily that morning when she had asked him how to use a microwave, and, when she explained to him that they didn't have electricity in the wizarding world, he had looked at her as though she were backward. 'Magic interferes' she had explained, to which he had shaken his head as though to dislodge some unpleasant thoughts.
He pushed through the crowd again to the bar, and Minerva slid into the nearest vacant chair.
"So what do you do?" she was immediately accosted by Cynthia. It was just a question, but the way the woman looked at her, surveying her from underneath severely plucked eyebrows and smiling with a false, sugar sweet grimace made Minerva feel like she was being interrogated.
"Oh. well, nothing, really, I left school to come here with Seb." She looked Cynthia in the eye, watching for her reaction. She need not have looked so closely. Cynthia's mouth spread into a wide, condescending smile.
"You did, did you?"
Minerva nodded. Cynthia turned away for a moment to pluck at the sleeve of the other woman's top, and Vivica turned on her as well. She suddenly realised what a bug caught in a jar must feel like. A sudden urge to transform into a cat and flee grabbed her, but she fought against it and gripped the table instead.
"Going to be married, are you?" she asked sarcastically, and Vivica laughed.
"Well, that was the plan." Minerva felt wounded, but at the same time, slightly suspicious. How had she guessed that? Sebastian hadn't done this kind of thing before, had he? The two exchanged meaningful glances, but said nothing.
"So," Minerva asked, "How do you two know Seb?"
"Oh, here and there. We meet through friends, business, all kinds of things. I can't actually remember how I met him, but yeah. been in this circle for a while now." Minerva nodded. Silence descended upon them for a time, before Minerva was rescued by Sebastian, sweeping back to the table with a mug of beer and a tall, brightly coloured drink with a piece of pineapple on the side of the glass.
"There you go, my love." He said with a smile and a flourish of the hand, "Hope you like it." He winked at her, a private message between the two of them.
Minerva's eyes glittered as she took it from him, the stars of her love glistening in the green orbs. She smiled and her eyes followed him as he wove back through the crowd, watching him smile, chat, roar with laughter. She sipped her drink and found it pleasantly sweet with a rich, alcoholic undertone, and suddenly she decided that she care one whit for Cynthia and Vivica's condescending, meaningful looks, they simply didn't understand that she and Seb were the only ones for each other.
The evening passed in a haze of conversation, laughter and more of those pineapple things, and it wasn't until much later in the night that Minerva was dragged, unceremoniously and with a shudder, back into the world she had so easily left behind.
She pushed her way through the crowd toward the ladies room, brushing up against people as she went, when suddenly she felt a strong hand grab tight on her wrist. Gasping and jumping in fright, she looked down and made to tug her wrist away.
He was large, gnarled and mean looking, with mangy white hair and a hooked nose. His eyes were uncannily pale, irises a very pale blue almost as white as the rest. He smiled as she looked down, thin lips twisting into a grin that exposed very yellow teeth. "Hello, witch." He hissed, somehow loud enough for her to hear but not for anybody else. She looked down upon him in horror - how could he know?
"You stand out like a phoenix in a forest!" he cackled with laughter, a mean spirited, dry sound. "Don't think I don't know what you are!" She wrenched her hand from his grip and tried to push past him. This time he didn't reach out to touch her, but his words stopped her more effectively than anything else he could have done.
"You're the Keeper of the Key."
She turned her face to look at him, eyes wide with shock, backed away a step, hand inadvertently rising to her clutch at her throat.
"Yes," he nodded, "And don't you dare think that running away into the muggle world will mean people will want it any less."
Albus Dumbledore raised an eyebrow lazily, eyes surveying her with interest. "The Keeper of the Key?" he asked quietly.
"Yes." Minerva's voice shook, and as Albus watched she reached up to her throat and grabbed at something he could not see. She wrenched it from around her neck and he watched as a fine gold chain materialised in her hand, and she pulled it from beneath her robe and tossed it to the table. A golden locket the size of a matchbox fell open, and inside lay a small gold skeleton key, its end encrusted with a string of sapphires.
"Oh." Dumbledore's mouth made a small 'o' and his eyes lit with understanding. "Oh!" Surprise dawned on him, then even deeper understanding. "I appreciate everything now."