By Vivien
McGonagall Castle, September 1956
Minerva's bedroom had settled into a still quiet as the moon rose over the dark loch glistening under her window. She was exhausted, but the adrenaline from the birth of her daughter had not quite dissipated yet. A few hours before, she'd been in hard labor, attended by two skilled midwives, her mother, and her house elf Mimsy. Even with the use of powerful magic, the birth had not been easy and it had not been painless. But when she'd seen her child, heard her cry for the first time, all the fear and worry of the last nine months had drained from her for a moment. Now that she was alone, she felt the wisps of uncertainty spiral into her brain once more.
She wanted Tom by her side. The heart charm he'd given her hung around her neck on a golden chain. She'd worn it since she'd Apparated back to her family home the day after Christmas, but she'd never spoken the words that would call him to her. One hand even now absentmindedly stroked its smooth contours, wishing for impossible things. To be frank, even though she wanted him - needed him - she was afraid to call him. Afraid of what she would feel, afraid of what he might do, afraid that her tenacious grip on a new life might slip in the face of her desire.
Closing her eyes and snuggling her swaddled baby closer to her, Minerva reflected on the past months, months that had been dreamlike, surreal. Her resignation from the Department of Unspeakables had been grudgingly accepted, but her pregnancy had made the way easier for her. It was not safe to perform Animagus transformations when one was with child. The final briefing had gone easily. Her lies and vague truths had been accepted with no question. But even as she'd given that last report, she'd felt the tingle of the Dark charm burrowing inside her, reminding her every moment of what she'd done.
Fleeing London for the highlands of her family home, she'd sought refuge and isolation. She had made up a likely story of a brief affair with an Albanian wizard who'd tragically been killed shortly after she returned to England. It had made her sick to tell these lies, but she'd seen no other way. The charm barred her from even writing Tom's name in her diary. She took solace in the fact that her child would be welcomed with open arms by her family. Every Wizarding baby was a wanted baby, especially those from families as old as the McGonagall clan.
As the days of her pregnancy passed, Minerva found herself becoming more and more obsessed with the echoing hum of the Dark magic she'd chosen to accept within her. This obsession wasn't about possessing or using more Dark knowledge. Instead she was determined to find a way to rid Tom of the Darkness he'd ritually incorporated within himself. She'd exhausted her own family's ancient libraries, spending countless hours pouring over dusty books devoted to protection against the Dark Arts. When she'd finished there, she'd sought out the Hogwarts library.
Before she left for her first trip, she'd received an owl from Tom. It was brief, merely asking how she was, stating his longing for her. He hadn't signed it, but left the mark of a golden heart in place of his name. It broke her heart all over again, but she wasn't ready to maintain contact with him. Not yet. Not till she found out something, anything, to help them be together. She penned a terse reply, letting him know she was well, but not able to write him more at the moment.
Despite her search for something - anything - to help Tom, her efforts were fruitless. The only thing she discovered were ways to protect herself and her growing child. But she had in this time gained something she'd missed for years and years - a semblance of a normal life. She'd reconnected with friends and family, meeting for dinner parties, Quidditch matches, and dances once again. Her manner remained subdued and restrained, but she enjoyed herself more now than she'd had in so very long. It helped take her mind off the worries that consumed her in the dark, lonely nights she lay awake feeling her baby kick within her as the tears fell upon her pillow.
The owls from Tom continued. Some were brief and almost casual, but some nearly palpated with his loneliness and yearning for her. She continued answering them with brief statements of wellness. She honestly did not know what else to say.
Now in her arms she held their daughter, dark-haired and dark eyed and full of the promise of both her parents. Minerva finally knew what to say. Plumping up the pillows underneath the baby, she reached one hand from the bundle of blankets to the cool heart resting against her chest. She raised it to her lips, her hand slightly trembling. Checking her bedside table to make sure her wand was within easy reach, she whispered, "Come to me."
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Stars shone high above the minaret towers of Alexandria. Warm breezes scented with cumin and roasting meats wafted through an open window of a stately dwelling in the hidden heart of the city. Tom glanced up from the ancient text he had been deciphering. His eyes drifted from the words down through the dark streets of the old Wizarding Quarters, one of the cradles of ancient wisdom of the Wizarding world. His mind drifted into the ruts and furrows he tried to discipline himself from visiting. Minerva...
He slammed the book shut, freeing a cloud of dust. He stormed across the room, furious at once again allowing his mind to wander to thoughts of her. He hit the wall with his fist, reveling in the pain, which jerked his focus from the perilous realms of his own dangerous thoughts.
Once the throbbing in his hand subsided, he slowly walked to the window. He looked up into the sky, knowing that the glowing orb above him, the waxing moon, shone not only over him, but over her as well. He put his hurt hand to his eyes and succumbed to the thoughts and worries that had tormented him since she'd left him standing alone in the Albanian forest.
When she had disappeared that night, he had not been able to think for some moments. He finally began moving; his body felt like he was walking through quicksand. He'd managed to slip back into his turret rooms and back out again, bearing his possessions to Alexandria and a new, uncertain start. For once in his life, he was not sure what to do.
The days passed and she didn't call for him. He slowly began to sense anger and grief surging through up the numbness. Underlying everything was the raw power that bubbled and boiled through his bloodstream and nervous system. Remarkable things had happened to him, and he wore the power well. Slowly he began to venture out from his suite of rooms purchased with purloined Karkaroff gold.
A few days after his arrival he'd come across a group of wizards in a small cafe in one of the dingy corners of the Wizards Bazaar. They were swathed in black cotton robes and wore long, grizzled beards. Their cloudy eyes shone with the faintest glint of red as they sat in the shade, sipping their dark black coffees. Tom had approached them, the power in his veins calling out to theirs. The wizards had stopped suddenly, sensing him. Most of the faded away into the recesses of the cafe. But three stayed to meet him, to accept him into their Dark Brotherhood. He would no longer be an apprentice, but he knew he still had much to learn. The Caliphs of the Blood would guide him further in his quest for power and the Dark.
Tom threw himself into research and ancient rites. He studied and plotted and practiced every waking moment. When he could bear to read or write no longer, he would walk the streets of Alexandria, sometimes going far into the countryside. He did whatever he could to banish Minerva from his mind, but he soon realized how very weak he was. He sent her owls often, carefully worded should they be intercepted. He tried to be patient, but damn her - why didn't she call for him? She didn't even answer his letters sometimes, and for those she did, she graced him with only a terse sentence or two. Didn't she know how much he needed her? Didn't she know that worry for her and their child snaked its way into nearly every moment of the day, no matter how hard he tried to keep busy?
As the months went by, he tried to hate her, to burn her memory from him. He contacted the fools who pledged their fealty to him that night in Albania, reminding them that they are his. Embracing his lifelong dreams of destiny he plots and plans until his brain is overwhelmed with strategy. He curses Minerva McGonagall and all those as high minded and blind like her in the Wizarding world. But still, at night when all is quiet, he pens long and heartfelt letters to her, some sent to her by owl, some not. He dreams of her by his when he rises to dominate the magical world. When would she see that her place was with him? She would be his queen, given everything she could ever want, everything he had.
He remembered her words that night telling him how the Darkness he embraced would alter him as the years went by. Even now he scoffed at that idea. He was in control, not the magic. The arcane knowledge, the power that was part of him, the Dark secrets he was learning from the Brotherhood... it was all under his control. She would understand that one day. He wondered whether she would even tell him when their child was born. He wondered why he should even care anymore - these feelings he had for her were weaknesses that could be easily exploited by enemies. He should stop thinking or caring about her. Maybe a selective Obliviation would work...
It was then he heard her voice whisper in his ear. "Come to me." Tom froze, not sure if the voice was real or imagined. He stood staring for a moment at the spires of the old city's minarets. 'I shouldn't go,' he thought angrily 'That would show her.' Even as the words formed inside his head he was preparing to Disapparate. He had to go. For better or for worse their fates were intertwined. The love for her mingled with the anger in his heart as he went to her side.