The next day, Minerva woke up with stained tears still on her face and a terribly aching neck, feeling absolutely dreadful. Yet, the small ray of sun, which reached her face through the only window of the room, helped her to pull herself together and get out of bed. She had to, after all, she sternly reminded herself. This was a mission. A professional arrangement, just a job.
Just a job she could lose her life with, though.
But she mustn't think of that. She really mustn't.
And she perhaps could have managed- if there hadn't been the sore feeling in her neck which formed an excellent reminder.
And so- as she dragged herself towards the bathroom and cast a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror- the unhealthy-looking redness of the usually so pale skin of her neck was the first thing she remarked. Minerva frowned as she tried to pull the collar of her robes a bit higher. She had to hide this- if she didn't, someone, perhaps Meia, would certainly notice it and then… Perhaps it wasn't the best thing to do to accuse Tom Riddle now.
With a sigh, Minerva changed her robes into the ones with the highest neckline she could find in the wardrobe. They still were rather low-cut, though. It was obviously the habit of the female guests of Grindelwald to stroll around half naked!
Minerva snorted. Well, that wasn't exactly *her* habit!
And yes, she knew that the only reason she had been hired for this job was that she, young and fairly pretty, had the so-called "ability" to get to know a little bit more than any male spy ever could. Minerva snorted again and shook her head. It was her mission- though Alastor had tried to somewhat veil the truth- to gain Grindelwald's confidence and if necessary seduce him into it. She was realistic enough to face that fact. Minerva didn't know whether she could ever muster the courage to really do so- because it in fact opposed all her ideals and standards- but on the other hand she knew it was necessary. She wasn't prepared for it, though. Not at all- not yet.
And her aching neck formed the ideal excuse to wear her own, comfortable, rather prim robes a day longer.
So she, slowly but not reluctantly, started to put on her robes- the robes she had slept in- again.
It was the only thing she could do, she mentally defended herself. Her stained tears she could and she would wash away, as well as the clotted blood on the back of her head- her face grimaced as she touched the wound- but she couldn't do anything to hide the redness of her skin.
She would wear her hair down- so as to at least conceal it a little- but she just had to hope the best of it.
And she really, really had to finally pull herself together. She was frightened, yes, and her fear for Grindelwald and especially Tom Riddle had never been heavier, but here she was and here she stayed. And she knew her only chance to survive was calmness.
She had to be composed, cool- arrogant even.
But Minerva immediately broke her silent promise as a soft knock on the door reached her ears. Though she somehow did know Tom Riddle would never take the risk twice- he knew she was prepared now- yet still she jumped up and felt her hands tremble. Because was she prepared after all? No, she wasn't!
"Who is there?"
Despite her fright, her voice was steady and she secretly was proud of it. But she was even more relieved than proud when the well-known soft voice answered.
"Meia. I bring your breakfast."
With a soft sigh, Minerva raised her wand and took the locking charms off the door.
"Come in."
The next moment, the door opened and Meia Malfoy put the plate down on the table, then looked strangely at Minerva.
"Why- did you have your door locked?"
"I-"
But Meia interrupted Minerva's weak answer by a soft cry and she covered her mouth with her hand, her grey eyes very big.
"What is wrong with your neck- it's… it's all red… and are that welts or… fingerprints?"
Minerva desperately shook her head and a slight feeling of pain shot through her body because of the sudden movement.
"It's- it's nothing, really."
Meia shook her head and then nodded, obviously very confused.
"My god- this girl lives in the center of all violence, and yet she's shocked by just a few marks on my neck!" Minerva thought quite sarcastically.
"It's not nothing, Minerva, it's… it's…"
"It's an allergy!" Minerva exclaimed suddenly, silently thanking God for the *genial* brain wave.
"Yes, it's an allergy, really! I am allergic for- for cheese. The omelet I ate last night must have contained some cheese!"
Meia didn't look very convinced, yet shrugged her shoulders and smiled faintly.
"Well, I guess you know best." she continued in her usual, frail tone.
"Now please eat your breakfast, because I have been ordered to bring you to the master. He has- he has some news for you, I believe…"
News? Already?
But as Minerva checked her small, pocket watch, she realized it was almost midday. She had slept longer than ever before- but perhaps that was forgivable under the present situation.
Suddenly, she was struck again with her nervousness of yesterday.
What would the news be?
Death or life?
Tom Riddle's victory… or the first, careful step towards her victory?
She had to admit- in the horse race between life and death, life's odds were 99 to 1.
Yet she had to hope.
Because if she didn't hope, then, and only then, hope would be lost.
And after all- Alastor had promised the gold to be there and Alastor wasn't the man to break his promises out of thoughtlessness. It had to be there. It just had to.
And if it wasn't, then she would die. Period.
For some reason, this thought was somewhat of a reassure to Minerva. It was strange, because she was frightened of death, but in a way, the definiteness, the peace of it was not all unappealing to her.
So Minerva smiled, ate, and then followed Meia.
Again.
To Grindelwald.
Just a job she could lose her life with, though.
But she mustn't think of that. She really mustn't.
And she perhaps could have managed- if there hadn't been the sore feeling in her neck which formed an excellent reminder.
And so- as she dragged herself towards the bathroom and cast a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror- the unhealthy-looking redness of the usually so pale skin of her neck was the first thing she remarked. Minerva frowned as she tried to pull the collar of her robes a bit higher. She had to hide this- if she didn't, someone, perhaps Meia, would certainly notice it and then… Perhaps it wasn't the best thing to do to accuse Tom Riddle now.
With a sigh, Minerva changed her robes into the ones with the highest neckline she could find in the wardrobe. They still were rather low-cut, though. It was obviously the habit of the female guests of Grindelwald to stroll around half naked!
Minerva snorted. Well, that wasn't exactly *her* habit!
And yes, she knew that the only reason she had been hired for this job was that she, young and fairly pretty, had the so-called "ability" to get to know a little bit more than any male spy ever could. Minerva snorted again and shook her head. It was her mission- though Alastor had tried to somewhat veil the truth- to gain Grindelwald's confidence and if necessary seduce him into it. She was realistic enough to face that fact. Minerva didn't know whether she could ever muster the courage to really do so- because it in fact opposed all her ideals and standards- but on the other hand she knew it was necessary. She wasn't prepared for it, though. Not at all- not yet.
And her aching neck formed the ideal excuse to wear her own, comfortable, rather prim robes a day longer.
So she, slowly but not reluctantly, started to put on her robes- the robes she had slept in- again.
It was the only thing she could do, she mentally defended herself. Her stained tears she could and she would wash away, as well as the clotted blood on the back of her head- her face grimaced as she touched the wound- but she couldn't do anything to hide the redness of her skin.
She would wear her hair down- so as to at least conceal it a little- but she just had to hope the best of it.
And she really, really had to finally pull herself together. She was frightened, yes, and her fear for Grindelwald and especially Tom Riddle had never been heavier, but here she was and here she stayed. And she knew her only chance to survive was calmness.
She had to be composed, cool- arrogant even.
But Minerva immediately broke her silent promise as a soft knock on the door reached her ears. Though she somehow did know Tom Riddle would never take the risk twice- he knew she was prepared now- yet still she jumped up and felt her hands tremble. Because was she prepared after all? No, she wasn't!
"Who is there?"
Despite her fright, her voice was steady and she secretly was proud of it. But she was even more relieved than proud when the well-known soft voice answered.
"Meia. I bring your breakfast."
With a soft sigh, Minerva raised her wand and took the locking charms off the door.
"Come in."
The next moment, the door opened and Meia Malfoy put the plate down on the table, then looked strangely at Minerva.
"Why- did you have your door locked?"
"I-"
But Meia interrupted Minerva's weak answer by a soft cry and she covered her mouth with her hand, her grey eyes very big.
"What is wrong with your neck- it's… it's all red… and are that welts or… fingerprints?"
Minerva desperately shook her head and a slight feeling of pain shot through her body because of the sudden movement.
"It's- it's nothing, really."
Meia shook her head and then nodded, obviously very confused.
"My god- this girl lives in the center of all violence, and yet she's shocked by just a few marks on my neck!" Minerva thought quite sarcastically.
"It's not nothing, Minerva, it's… it's…"
"It's an allergy!" Minerva exclaimed suddenly, silently thanking God for the *genial* brain wave.
"Yes, it's an allergy, really! I am allergic for- for cheese. The omelet I ate last night must have contained some cheese!"
Meia didn't look very convinced, yet shrugged her shoulders and smiled faintly.
"Well, I guess you know best." she continued in her usual, frail tone.
"Now please eat your breakfast, because I have been ordered to bring you to the master. He has- he has some news for you, I believe…"
News? Already?
But as Minerva checked her small, pocket watch, she realized it was almost midday. She had slept longer than ever before- but perhaps that was forgivable under the present situation.
Suddenly, she was struck again with her nervousness of yesterday.
What would the news be?
Death or life?
Tom Riddle's victory… or the first, careful step towards her victory?
She had to admit- in the horse race between life and death, life's odds were 99 to 1.
Yet she had to hope.
Because if she didn't hope, then, and only then, hope would be lost.
And after all- Alastor had promised the gold to be there and Alastor wasn't the man to break his promises out of thoughtlessness. It had to be there. It just had to.
And if it wasn't, then she would die. Period.
For some reason, this thought was somewhat of a reassure to Minerva. It was strange, because she was frightened of death, but in a way, the definiteness, the peace of it was not all unappealing to her.
So Minerva smiled, ate, and then followed Meia.
Again.
To Grindelwald.
