"Yes, I really think we do have things to discuss…" Grindelwald repeated his own words with a faint grin. His dark, reddish, thick hair reached his shoulders now- he almost looked royal.

Minerva, who was at total loss for words, pretended to be thinking for a moment, then slowly nodded. Her throat was unable to produce sound of any kind, and that was for heaven's sake no acting! It were his eyes, she decided. His eyes. Grindelwald's eyes, Minerva vaguely realized, Grindelwald's eyes were bewitching. Truly bewitching, though not entirely in a positive way. But those depths, those mirrors of dark, black-greyish abyss, exactly those, made Minerva, again, understand what it had been, that had driven all those people to sacrifice themselves for this man.

To dedicate themselves to this man, to this powerful, but dark wizard.

What scared her the most, though, was the fact that she almost felt like one of them. Almost.

Because, she believed, it were exactly the logical, sceptical Scottish spirits of the late parents she had seemingly betrayed, that kept her from losing her head. She had to stay calm, she had to stay cool, she had to keep on rationally thinking.

This man, this wizard had killed them, her parents. He was evil and thus had to be destroyed.

Yes. Yes. A logical deduction.

And, after all, Minerva McGonagall had always been good at logical deductions…

Suddenly feeling quite a bit more relieved, the girl slowly inhaled and exhaled again, then curled her lips into an almost true smile

"Yes, my Lord. I think we indeed may have."

At these words, the Dark Lord contentedly smiled and stroked her slender hand once more.

"The first thing," he then began, in that deep, but not entirely heartless voice of his.

"The first thing we have to decide is, of course, how your quick, witty little mind can be made useful for our purpose."

With this, he slightly paused and thoughtfully looked into her eyes, seeking for an answer to the question he had not yet put. She did not know exactly what he meant, yet stared back with what she hoped was a believably innocent gaze.

"You're a highly intelligent young woman, Minerva," Grindelwald then spoke.

"You must have understood by now what exactly our purpose is."

Minerva nodded in relief, even managed to faintly smile. This was something she very well knew. Who did not, after all?

"To rid the planet of all creatures unworthy of living." she promptly uttered, lowering her eyes in what she considered an appropriate fashion.

She couldn't fail to see his satisfied smile, though. He still held her hand and again squeezed in what felt to her like a quite unpleasant way. Or- was it unpleasant? She could hardly oppress the urge to shake her head. It was all so vague now…

"And what, pray tell me, Minerva, do you consider creatures unworthy of living?"

With a small, but hopefully unnoticed shiver, Minerva spoke the words she had to say- and disgusted herself by saying them.

"Werewolves, descendants of vampires, Veela's, giants or other non-human magical beings, muggles, and, of course, mudbloods."

The nonchalant "of course" was the hardest for her to speak out aloud. It was true- she herself maybe was pure-blooded, but many of her friends, among whom Rolanda Hooch, were not…

She looked up at Grindelwald, read the tensed expectation in his eyes, and quickly, softly added

"And all those who sympathize with them."

And this sentence cut straight through her heart. Because Albus, dear, darling Albus who she loved with all her heart and who she had hurt so much… Albus Dumbledore, she knew, was considered, especially by these people, the leader of this second group of "unworthy creatures".

"Good, Minerva!"

The soft pat of his hand on her shoulder sickened her. How could a person be so mad as to really believe in these so-called "ideals"?

"Now we only have to decide which task will be fulfilled by you. I must say- I already have something in mind, and…"

He ended his sentence here, and Minerva did, almost automatically now, what she obviously was supposed to do.

"Which one, my Lord?" she asked, a sincere hint of curiosity in her tone.

But Grindelwald just smiled and clapped his hands.

Immediately, somewhere, something began to stir and then, all of a sudden, a large drapery descended out of the sky against the wall opposite where Minerva and Grindelwald were sitting. Minerva's jaw dropped. What? How?

But before she could ask a thing, she was immediately silenced by the beauty of the tapestry. It indeed was nothing less than stunning, even Minerva had to admit that. Hundreds of different, radiant colours were woven through it, and the picture they formed was sheer artwork. As Minerva let her eyes wander over the different figures on it, only slowly the realization of what exactly it showed dawned.

A large, deep green, almost vivid-looking snake wound itself against the textile and right next to it, a just as brilliant, royal, cat-like animal opened its majestic muzzle and roared.

It was a lioness.

Beneath the animals was written in curling, golden letters

"Unitas Mirabile Vinculum"

and under those three words, smaller and yet somehow just as powerful

"per serpentem leamque vicimus"

"Shall I translate?" Grindelwald offered, yet Minerva did not hear him. Slowly, softly, fascinatedly and more to herself than to the Dark Lord, she muttered the translation. Yes, she did know Latin.

"Wonderful Bond of Unity... through snake and lion we'll conquer?"

It was in fact, more a question than a translation. Minerva did not understand the significance of this. Yes, it was a beautiful wall decoration, but surely this wasn't the time nor the place to show Grindelwald's interior designs to her, now was it?

But Grindelwald, obviously oblivious of her uncertainty, nodded, then smiled, took her hands once more and lead her forwards until her nose almost touched the soft texture.

"Lioness, Minerva. Lioness."

And suddenly, Minerva grasped what he was referring to. Her jaw dropped again, but slightly for other reasons than Grindelwald obviously thought it was dropping.

"Yes," he proudly stated, his eyes roaming over the large picture.

"Yes, Minerva. You are the power we need to win. You and only you. Your coming to this place was no coincidence. The Gods have brought you here to me. Together, Minerva, we will rule..."

His voice sounded proud. Proud and mad. He was mad, Minerva realized. He was a madman. He most surely was. But a madman with influence... and thus, a very dangerous madman indeed.

Grindelwald looked at her again, and this combined to the sudden almost... ethereal atmosphere in the room felt uncomfortable to Minerva, and, so as to get back to earth again, she dryly asked

"What are the conditions?"

Her voice echoed strangely through the large room, and for a moment, she thought she had gone too far, but then Grindelwald smiled, took her arm and lead her back to his "throne". After quickly conjuring a chair for her, he sat down again and folded his hands. Then, in a sudden way more earthy, and somehow more dangerous, voice, he said, shrugging his shoulders

"Marriage, if you insist. I suppose most women want a marriage- I don't see why, though. Because if you agree, and you will agree, we will be high above every law of men or nature."

The casually muttered "and you will agree" did not quite appeal to Minerva, yet she lightly bowed her head. Inwardly, she was screaming, though. Stay cool! Stay awake! Constant vigilance!

Suddenly, perhaps partly because of this quoting of her tutor and friend the Head Auror, she felt like crying and hitting herself hard on the head. Minerva had to be honest with herself- she was impressed by all this! She was flattered by his big words! She did feel special because of the large, colourful tapestry!

And it was all so ridiculous! So damn ridiculous! He could have spoken these very words to about hundred women before! And yet, a nasty little voice said in the back of her head... "he couldn't have made such a tapestry for a hundred women before, now could he?"

But Grindelwald interrupted her thoughts.

"Plus,"

He smiled what, she supposed, he considered a charming smile- but the darkness in his eeys told another story...

"Wifes cannot charge their husbands in our current legal system..."

Minerva did look up now, not even bothering to hide the anger in her dark green eyes. She did consider it quite appropriate, now.

"Now that is not much of a romantic proposal, is it, my Lord?"

"Ah," answered the Dark Lord, with a small, strange curtsy towards the young woman.

"But I figured you, my Lady, were not quite the person for romance, now are you? Besides..."

"I am not just marrying anyone."

Okay, perhaps it was stupid to say this. Okay, perhaps she had ruined all her chances. But really, Minerva felt sick and frightened and when the McGonagall temper flared...

Well, then it did flare! Minerva thought, as she boldly stared into the Dark Lord's eyes.

But she had to admit, the Dark Lord behaved quite like the gentleman. He only blinked a couple of times, then smiled.

"Of course not, my Lady, I had not expected it to be otherwise. But please accept...."

He took a small, dark red box out of his pocket and took her hand.

"... this as a sincerely proof of my courtship."

A small, silver ring with a brilliant ruby on it now added a reddish glow to her left ring finger, and Minerva could hardly swallow. Yes, it was beautiful.

Yes, he was crazy beyond words.

Because, as he galantly extended his arm to help her stand up again, she realized he really did behave like a renaissance king- really like Henry the Eighth!- who was courting a young Lady-in-Waiting.

Anne Boleyn, Minerva once more realized, and again, the painful association made her lightly touch her still aching neck. Anne Boleyn, the young woman who had, years ago, captured the heart of a King- and lost it again. Minerva closed her eyes and tried not to remember that one, mere fact that she of all people knew so well, though not many others had ever thought about it.

The mere fact that Minerva McGonagall's mother had been a Boleyn.

But it was not that fact nor it's consequences that made the Dark Lord frown as "his Lady" touched her neck. It was the fact that that neck looked red, bruised and quite painful indeed.

He raised his hand to touch her, but as she whimpered he withdrew it. Minerva lowered her eyes.

"Who..." he muttered, his voice filled with wrath.

"Who has done this to you, Minerva?"

One word was enough to ruin a certain person's faith for at least a while.

"Riddle." Minerva muttered softly, knowing the truth needed to be told.

"It was Tom Riddle, Milord."

Grindelwald did not yell or ask things, he did not even examine her neck again. He just turned towards the large door and barked

"Riddle! Meia!"

The two people called for appeared almost immediately- Minerva even suspected them of eavesdropping, but from the nothing less than scared expression in Meia's soft, grey eyes, she realized that could not be true.

Her thoughts were roughly cut off, though, when Grindelwald only muttered one more word.

"Crucio."

Minerva froze. The curse was not pointed at her nor at Meia, but she felt her whole body stiffen as Tom Riddle's hit the floor, shaking and twitching in pain. This was her doing, she realized with a shock. This was her fault, and true, she did not like... scratch that, she hated Tom Riddle, but this... this casual use of an Unforgivable disgusted her nonetheless.

Meia did not move. She did not even blink, and Minerva again wondered in what kind of hell this child lived, when she did not even startle when someone was horribly tortured at her feet...

Minerva did startle, though, and as soon as she found her voice back, she turned towards Grindelwald and almost begged

"Make it stop!"

He did obey, to her great surprise, and Tom Riddle stopped twitching. He was still lying on the floor though.

"Stand up, Riddle."

In the Dark Lord's voice was a darkness, an evilness that was quite new to Minerva. He had been so sweet with her, and now... It showed her at least one thing, though. This man was not to be trusted...

"Meia, take Minerva with you and show her the castle. Minerva, I fear I and Tom must discuss some matters..."

This was all he said, and after been given a light kiss on the hand, Minerva and Meia left.

The first sentence Meia shared with Minerva, shocked her beyond words.

"You should not have stopped him."

"W- why not?"

Without even looking at the other woman, Meia explained, flatly, almost automatically.

"The Dark Lord only rightfully punishes."

This made Minerva's free and stubborn mind shiver and yell at the same time. How could this be? How could this, this blindness, this following-without-thinking, how could this ever have grown to possess such an utterly good, honest girl like Meia Abernethie had been?

The answer showed itself moments later, in the icy blue eyes of a man Minerva had met earlier- in Knockturn Alley, that was- and who suddenly blocked the passage of the two women.

"Good morning, Meia. Good morning, Miss Minerva McGonagall..."

Meia lowered her eyes, yet Minerva did not.

"Good morning, Anselmus Malfoy." she greeted boldly.

For a moment, she thought he'd tell her off for her clear, almost rude answer, but he did not. Instead, he grabbed his- wife's?- arm and pulled her aside.

"Go to your room and stay there."

"I have to guide..." was Meia's weak defense, but a hard tug of his hand made her shut up?

"I will guide this lovely young woman around his place."

And, the head bowed but oh-so-obvious tears in her eyes, Meia Malfoy-Abernethie obeyed.