The fairytale with Tom- then already called Lord Voldemort- lasted exactly three months.
After those blissful, but dark three months, he crossed the most important, most forbidden border he could possibly have crossed.
He beat me.
At my mere, casual mentioning of Albus' name, I saw it happen. His eyes. Tom, my sweet, understanding Tom had deep, emerald eyes with an occasional spot of brown. Voldemort, the man who would ruin my life and those of so many others, had black eyes. The black of abyss- of utter, true darkness.
And he beat me.
I don't remember things very clearly anymore- I remember his eyes growing dark and then just the feeling of soft hands turning into steel fists on my skin. I have always been more powerful a witch than Tom Marvolo Riddle, but without wands, it was an uneven fight all the way. He was taller than me and of course physically stronger. His fists hit me harder than I had ever been hit, and though I raised my hands in order to protect myself, it did not help at all. His anger only grew and grew, and- what was even worse than the beating- he yelled at me. That I was a whore. That I was a slut. That he would give me what I deserved.
And I cried. And I begged.
Minerva Héloise McGonagall never begged.
And I gave up.
==========
When I regained consciousness, tears sprung in my already wet eyes and I wondered whether there was one bone in my body he had left unbroken. But somehow, I managed to get up and more on will-power than on physical strength, I ran away from the place Tom- no, Lord Voldemort- called his palace. I ran, and I ran- and I ran.
Every single movement cut straight through my body.
Every single memory cut straight through my heart.
And I don't know where to I ran, or for how long or how I managed to keep running. I just remember, at a certain moment, to be running through a street, past people, and I remember those people's gazes.
Then, I fell.
And I kept falling.
==========
As the deep, grey mist inside of my usually so clear mind started to fade, my own, soft moan filled my ears- and made me startle. My eyelids felt as if they were made of solid steel, but one thing was really strange. Despite a terrible headache, despite the scar my slightly shaking hand felt across my cheek, I did not feel any pain.
Someone must have- healed me, I realized and all of a sudden, my eyelids did flutter open as my hand powerlessly fell back on the soft, cotton sheets that covered my body.
The first thing- person- they noticed, was a sitting, sleeping figure, his mouth hidden beside an auburn-grey beard, but his eyes red, swollen and obviously stained with tears.
Oh, Albus…
"A-A…" I did not get any further than the first vowel of his name.
It was enough anyway.
"Minerva!"
The next thing I knew were his soft arms around me- and his and my tears mingling on our cheeks.
"Minerva, I thought I'd lose you… Minerva…" came out his soft, almost broken voice as his hand rested on my wet cheek. His own eyesight was blurred in tears as well, but there was no bitterness among the radiating blue.
Only love.
Albus was an angel.
Albus is an angel.
He held me tight, hugged me and kissed me at the same time, and I smiled against his lips as his hands carefully, as if I could break into pieces every single moment, cupped the back of my head.
"I love you, Minerva."
And for the first time, for the very, very first time, my blindness was taken away and I saw.
I saw my sentence.
I saw my doom.
I saw my faith.
And I knew I could honestly answer
"I love you too, Albus."
And I love Tom as well.
After those blissful, but dark three months, he crossed the most important, most forbidden border he could possibly have crossed.
He beat me.
At my mere, casual mentioning of Albus' name, I saw it happen. His eyes. Tom, my sweet, understanding Tom had deep, emerald eyes with an occasional spot of brown. Voldemort, the man who would ruin my life and those of so many others, had black eyes. The black of abyss- of utter, true darkness.
And he beat me.
I don't remember things very clearly anymore- I remember his eyes growing dark and then just the feeling of soft hands turning into steel fists on my skin. I have always been more powerful a witch than Tom Marvolo Riddle, but without wands, it was an uneven fight all the way. He was taller than me and of course physically stronger. His fists hit me harder than I had ever been hit, and though I raised my hands in order to protect myself, it did not help at all. His anger only grew and grew, and- what was even worse than the beating- he yelled at me. That I was a whore. That I was a slut. That he would give me what I deserved.
And I cried. And I begged.
Minerva Héloise McGonagall never begged.
And I gave up.
==========
When I regained consciousness, tears sprung in my already wet eyes and I wondered whether there was one bone in my body he had left unbroken. But somehow, I managed to get up and more on will-power than on physical strength, I ran away from the place Tom- no, Lord Voldemort- called his palace. I ran, and I ran- and I ran.
Every single movement cut straight through my body.
Every single memory cut straight through my heart.
And I don't know where to I ran, or for how long or how I managed to keep running. I just remember, at a certain moment, to be running through a street, past people, and I remember those people's gazes.
Then, I fell.
And I kept falling.
==========
As the deep, grey mist inside of my usually so clear mind started to fade, my own, soft moan filled my ears- and made me startle. My eyelids felt as if they were made of solid steel, but one thing was really strange. Despite a terrible headache, despite the scar my slightly shaking hand felt across my cheek, I did not feel any pain.
Someone must have- healed me, I realized and all of a sudden, my eyelids did flutter open as my hand powerlessly fell back on the soft, cotton sheets that covered my body.
The first thing- person- they noticed, was a sitting, sleeping figure, his mouth hidden beside an auburn-grey beard, but his eyes red, swollen and obviously stained with tears.
Oh, Albus…
"A-A…" I did not get any further than the first vowel of his name.
It was enough anyway.
"Minerva!"
The next thing I knew were his soft arms around me- and his and my tears mingling on our cheeks.
"Minerva, I thought I'd lose you… Minerva…" came out his soft, almost broken voice as his hand rested on my wet cheek. His own eyesight was blurred in tears as well, but there was no bitterness among the radiating blue.
Only love.
Albus was an angel.
Albus is an angel.
He held me tight, hugged me and kissed me at the same time, and I smiled against his lips as his hands carefully, as if I could break into pieces every single moment, cupped the back of my head.
"I love you, Minerva."
And for the first time, for the very, very first time, my blindness was taken away and I saw.
I saw my sentence.
I saw my doom.
I saw my faith.
And I knew I could honestly answer
"I love you too, Albus."
And I love Tom as well.